May 11, 2011
Jack London’s Call Of The Wild was ground breaking, an acclaimed novel about the primitive nature of existence as seen through the eyes of a half Saint Bernard, half Scottish shepherd, named Buck. Having read and enjoyed the book as a teenager, I was fairly excited to see how co-directors Cassie Barraclough and Joe Murphy would bring this to the stage.
And there’s the rub: though London’s novel relies heavily on our empathy for Buck and his canine companions, the human characters in his novel are at least strong enough to anchor the story, allowing us to occasionally cling to more recognisable narratives before being swept along once more by Buck’s exploits.
In Barney Norris’s adaptation we’re offered three such narratives, but rather than strengthening Buck’s story they often threaten to de-rail it. This is only partially due to the dialogue, which at its weakest points sounded like every sentence ended with an exclamation mark, and at its strongest points like extracts from a Hollywood epic.
A small amount of blame must to go to the cast for some woeful human accents, one of which sounded as if it had been conceived somewhere between Mexico and Dublin, and yet equal praise must be heaped upon the entire cast for their excellent canine portrayals in the play’s mid-section -- easily the production's most compelling segment.
As always, there were a few standout performances such as Ness Goulding’s brief yet brilliantly animalistic portrayal of ill-fated dog Curly, or John-Mark Philo’s feral depiction of pack leader, Spitz, coming across as an effeminate version of Trainspotting’s Francis Begbie. Most convincing, though, in both Human and Dog form, was Ruby Thomas who demonstrated a wide range of unexpectedly complex emotions in her four small yet fully-sculpted roles.
The aspects of this production without fault were the lighting, set and sound which, together, successfully conveyed the correct mood of the story while demonstrating stylistic flourishes that would be more at home on London’s West End.
Ultimately, I found this production as intriguing as I found it infuriating, if only because of its potential for greatness. Though they should be praised for all of the positives I’ve mentioned so far, the directors must also take responsibility for the play’s uneven tone which, had they employed a lighter handed approach on the comedy, could have been crafted into something far more affecting and provocative.
And there’s the rub: though London’s novel relies heavily on our empathy for Buck and his canine companions, the human characters in his novel are at least strong enough to anchor the story, allowing us to occasionally cling to more recognisable narratives before being swept along once more by Buck’s exploits.
In Barney Norris’s adaptation we’re offered three such narratives, but rather than strengthening Buck’s story they often threaten to de-rail it. This is only partially due to the dialogue, which at its weakest points sounded like every sentence ended with an exclamation mark, and at its strongest points like extracts from a Hollywood epic.
A small amount of blame must to go to the cast for some woeful human accents, one of which sounded as if it had been conceived somewhere between Mexico and Dublin, and yet equal praise must be heaped upon the entire cast for their excellent canine portrayals in the play’s mid-section -- easily the production's most compelling segment.
As always, there were a few standout performances such as Ness Goulding’s brief yet brilliantly animalistic portrayal of ill-fated dog Curly, or John-Mark Philo’s feral depiction of pack leader, Spitz, coming across as an effeminate version of Trainspotting’s Francis Begbie. Most convincing, though, in both Human and Dog form, was Ruby Thomas who demonstrated a wide range of unexpectedly complex emotions in her four small yet fully-sculpted roles.
The aspects of this production without fault were the lighting, set and sound which, together, successfully conveyed the correct mood of the story while demonstrating stylistic flourishes that would be more at home on London’s West End.
Ultimately, I found this production as intriguing as I found it infuriating, if only because of its potential for greatness. Though they should be praised for all of the positives I’ve mentioned so far, the directors must also take responsibility for the play’s uneven tone which, had they employed a lighter handed approach on the comedy, could have been crafted into something far more affecting and provocative.