Mothman: A Romance Musical was reviewed at Belly Button at Underbelly, Cowgate.
Star rating: five stars ★ ★ ★ ★ ★
Upstage, a large screen. A film. It’s the Second World War. America is developing a sort of man-machine to defeat the Nazis, but at a crucial moment of development, a moth gets into the works, the facility catches fire and the sole survivor turns into Mothman, who, according to legend, appears only when someone is about to die. Cinemascope music. Emblazoned on the screen ‘Mothman – A Romance Musical’.
Before a still of a dark forest, there enters Professor Dumbleshaft on the quest for Mothman. However, he’s quickly eaten by a bear – his bones flung cursorily on stage by an unidentified hand. The heroes appear on the quest for Dumbleshaft.
The incongruously named Anna 5678 (Alex Franklin) informs us in a curious accent that we are in Virginia (an appropriate location given what happens to her later). “Is that a real Virginia accent?” asks Natalie (Nikola McMurtrie). “Yes,” she replies. “What part of Virginia?” “Texas.”
From this point, the show tumbles from absurdity to absurdity, and it’s an absolute hoot.
Anna is the only constant in this wildly funny show. The rest of the cast (McMurtrie, Alex Prescott and Hudson Hughes) sprint from role to role with wild abandon in a madcap plot packed with contemporary references, including The Tree of Wisdom, whose nuggets of wisdom become increasingly Trump-like as it is hustled off.
There’s even an occasional break for adverts. In the quest for the Mothman, someone whispers: “I recognise that odour.” Immediately there’s a screened advert for deodorant.
There are so many little touches. A log seat slides on perfectly as Anna goes to sits down. Later, the Tree of Wisdom reveals that the log is its dead brother.
The cast, like children telling a story, are having a great time and so is the audience. There is hardly a moment without a laugh.
It almost feels like it’s made up on the spot, but underpinning it all is a rigorous discipline. There’s a marvellously choreographed dance break in a fight scene with two investigators, a community officer and his henchman Stabbo (a small polka dot clown with a suggestively long Pinocchio nose) with many a pow and wallop.
Much of the show is underscored by recorded pulsing music which switches to song backing at the flick of a switch. This involves magnificent technical and sound work from Sammy Dunse and Amber Ash – their cuing buttons must be numb by the end.
The songs are terrific and well sung, with some nice harmonies, but in the mayhem there’s no time to savour them.
The whole production is written by Franklin and McMurtrie, while the directing reins are held by Kathy Maniura and Michael Clarke.
Probably the funniest show I’ve seen for a long time.
James Bryce
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