Of course it's Sondheim. It could only be Sondheim. With a deliciously subversive Book by John Weidman which features one of my favourite sequences in pretty much anything which I won't spoil here but is still as astonishing a piece of writing as the first time I saw it back in 2015.
The tone is darkly satirical and by dark I mean at the bottom of a mine shaft, complete absence of light, dark. Which some may find challenging or perhaps miss the point of, whereas I find utterly invigorating. This isn't a hum-hum-hummable musical with happy lyrics and a leggy chorus line - this is a savage commentary on the American dream, gun culture, and the lengths desperate people go to after being marginalised and cast aside. If you tell a whole nation they can be anything they want then create a system where that's abundantly untrue, well, sometimes a president or two might get shot.
I deliberately called them misbegotten fiends and it's true, there's a high level of dysfunction and self-delusion here. But the musical also scratches beneath the surface of these footnotes in history to try and explain their actions without exonerating them. Some names are eternal - John Wilkes Booth and Lee Harvey Oswald at the forefront; others are largely forgotten or oddities now. It's an eclectic mix across time, across rationales, across personality types and circumstances. It's also bleakly funny in ways that cut deep.
Director Christopher Alvaro has made several key decisions in this version. The first is to forgo the usual gaming arcade set; instead opting to depict the white frontal columns of the White House with the orchestra nestled behind them. Characters literally take aim at the workplace and residence of the president; several incarnations of whom wander by in the form of Peter 'Pear' Carr who also designed the set with Alvaro.
The second is to dial up the performances to 11. This is a full-throated assault as the cast magnify the grievances, real and imagined, of these figures, almost haranguing the audience in the process. It's bold and, when it works best, utterly electrifying. Apologies, Giuseppe Zangara (Marshall Brown).
The satirical tone is immediately established as The Proprietor (Carr again) entices our wannabe assassins to purchase a gun in the opening number Everybody's Got The Right and solve all their problems by shooting a president. The intensity that follows is led by the wonderfully earnest performance of Mark Thompson as the pioneer of all American presidential assassins, John Wilkes Booth. He commands the stage as he does the other assassins, imbuing Booth with commitment and passion. We have no doubt Booth believes in the (misguided) cause he spilled blood for in notorious fashion. The vainglorious actor who changed the course of history.
In contrast, the transparently vain Charles Guiteau (Rp van der Westhuizen) hawks his book, claims he is extraordinary, and demands to be Ambassador to France; the refusal to name him as such leading to President James Garfield's demise. The showstopper, The Ballad of Guiteau, becomes an increasingly fraught display that verges into true horror as Guiteau stares mortality in the eye as the gallows are assembled before him. The manufactured charm and confidence van der Westhuizen portrays the character with earlier evaporates into manic fear. Not for the fainthearted!
Ethan Battle doubles down on the earnestness as his Leon Czologosz features in several key moments - the harrowing story of how a bottle is made after John Hinckley (Lochlan Curtis) carelessly breaks one in a bar; the encounter with the anarchist Emma Goldman (Erin Craddock) who he has been following and declares his love for; leading off the aptly named The Gun Song; oh, and his assassination of William McKinley.
Paul Treasure, bedraggled and decked out in a Santa outfit befitting a child's worst nightmare, excels as Samuel Byck. Gifted with two brilliantly written monologues - one directed at Leonard Bernstein ("Lenny"); the other to Richard Nixon ("Dick") who Byck intends to kill by flying a 747 into the White House. Treasure expertly modulates his delivery from conversational to outright bile as he pours Byck's disenchantment and rage into a tape recorder while happily munching away on a sandwich or burger. It's exhilarating to watch.
Another standout is Sonja Reynolds as Sara Jane Moore, the absentminded, would be assassin of Gerald Ford who teams up with Charles Manson acolyte, Lynette "Squeaky" Fromme (Madeleine Shaw) in a compression of real events. Shaw brings the creepy, cult-like vibes while Reynolds imbues Moore with a ditzy air that adds genuine comic relief. You sense Ford was never in any real danger though fried chicken and pooches should be wary!
Marshall Brown adds to the intensity in stomach churning fashion playing the man who tried to assassinate FDR while Lochlan Curtis is quietly obsessed as Hinckley. The closest you get to a ballad in this musical is Curtis and Shaw singing of their love for, ahem, Jodie Foster and "Charlie" respectively. Yep, it's dark alright!
Erin Craddock is featured as Emma Goldman and leads the ensemble, most notably in the show closer Something Just Broke which follows the exceptional 15 or so minute sequence that is brilliant in its sheer audacity. And is where we talk about Matthew Walford's Balladeer, the clean cut presence who seemingly mocks this collection of misfits before... go see it, you'll be astounded. Walford adds a slice of genuine Yankee spirit that turns into bewilderment as events transform his character.
The score, as you would expect, is superb and well played by the orchestra under Krispin Maesalu. Lighting design by Alvaro is very stylistic with each assassin having their own colourful backdrop as Booth thrusts them literally into the spotlight. Like the musical styles Sondheim uses, the costumes also have to cover a range of time periods and fashions which Cherie Alvaro manages well; that grimy Santa suit and Booth's handsome attire to the fore. First time choreographer, Tatum Stafford, adds more movement than I expected with, again, a playfully satirical style at work.
My main issue, however, is that this IS Sondheim so the lyrics are incredibly important. With no pit and a sizeable orchestra directly behind the cast, it was a battle at times to clearly make out and savour those words. The volume on the mics was turned up high to compensate which often led to some distortion and, when there was shrieking to be done in non-musical moments, became somewhat painful.
However, I walked away impressed by a total cast commitment to going for broke with their characterisations and how relevant this musical is today, perhaps more so than its debut off-Broadway in 1990 and its 2004 Broadway revival given current events in America. An outstanding entry into the Sondheim canon which is tackled with real verve here.
Assassins is on at the Roleystone Theatre until 15 March.
