BWW Reviews: Kneehigh's TRISTAN AND YSEULT Amuses at South Coast Rep

The second you take your seat to experience Kneehigh's dazzlingly unorthodox adaptation of the classic doomed romance TRISTAN AND YSEULT at South Coast Repertory, you know for sure you're in for---well, as the folks in Monty Python would say---something completely different.

And it truly is. From the get-go, there's an enticing fascination that swirls wildly around this quirky, expressively theatrical Brit import, which is the latest U.S.-touring production from Kneehigh, the much-lauded Cornwall, England-based stage troupe. Their play continues through February 22 at the Tony Award-winning Costa Mesa theater.

As soon as you enter the theater space, you'll notice several ensemble players---dressed uniformly like nerdy hipster birdwatchers armed with binoculars and notepads---scattered about displaying different degrees of inquisitiveness. A less timid few are even mingling down into the audience who are, naturally, met with theatergoers' excitable delight (or, perhaps, terror if you're not a fan of audience participation).

Meanwhile perched up on a higher-tiered platform on one side of the stage, a hipster band hovers above like Greek muses, performing lounge-cool covers of familiar love tunes ("Only The Lonely," among others) just as patrons file in to take their seats before the official start of the show. Behind them shines a large neon sign that reads "The Club of the Unloved." Awww.

At first, the whole party-like spectacle carries an overwhelming air of strangeness that feels both exciting and in its purest sense---what the heck is happening here? How will all of this tomfoolery be integrated into the classic play? Though, really, nothing here is necessarily new or unheard of in the context of a theater piece, the mere presence of such free-formed yet undoubtedly organized chaos automatically ups the cool quotient of the play. Plus, the band and its participating nerds down below are already pretty endearing.

These bespectacled adorkable nerds, we soon learn, call themselves the "Lovespotters" and are headed up by their de-facto leader and spokesperson Whitehands (Kirsty Woodward). Firm and highly intellectual, her bright, kitschy-vintage frocks and dark sunglasses are an amusing stark contrast to her hard-working (and hard-partying) minions' dark windbreakers and knit caps.

They have gathered together---much like scientific explorers in the wild collecting data and samples---to observe, discover, and wax philosophic on the concept of love. They're quite invested in the subject, you see, because for them, love is, sadly, often "at arm's length."

Their collective theory is, basically, that we all start as members of this "unloved" fraternity, until, that is, we are lucky enough to be shot in the heart by cupid's arrow. The trick is, of course, to discover ways to keep and sustain that love. Right here and now, more than anything, these love anthropologists would like to dispense some of their acquired knowledge by relaying one story in particular: a lively, though ultimately grim example of the high costs of love.

That story, of course, is the tragic, oft-told 12th century tale of Tristan and Yseult, whose passionate but adulterous love affair meets a calamitous end---inspiring countless poems, paintings, novels, plays, movies, and even the celebrated opera from Wagner thereafter. It takes a while for the Kneehigh players to finally launch into the story, but when they do, the narrative drives along the familiar track.

The Cornish King, Mark (Mike Shepherd) assigns his trustworthy (ha!) noble knight Tristan (the dashing Dominic Marsh) the task of setting sail across the sea to retrieve the King's promised bride-to-be Yseult (the glowing Hannah Vassallo) from Ireland. With the help of a "love" potion and the machinations of the frikkin' universe, Tristan and Yseult, naturally, fall madly in love with each other en route back to the King. Uh Oh.

Though Yseult, um, eventually develops some feelings for the King as well, she and Tristan decide to carry on with their affair in secret, all the while fearful of the potentially dire consequences. But the two are so darn in love, their passions actually make them feel as if they're floating in the air (well, metaphorically and, yes, physically thanks to some nifty high-wire choreography).

Of course, like the old adage says... it's all fun and games until someone gets hurt. As euphoric love may be, it also comes with another pesky constant: pain and heartbreak---a fact all too familiar, it seems, to the Lovespotters.

A secret like theirs can't stay hidden for long, even with Yseult's lady's maid Brangian (comical and heartbreaking Niall Ashdown, a scene-stealer while in vaudeville-lite drag) going so far as to pretend to be Yseult herself in the King's wedding bed so the monarch could bed a virgin as promised (yeesh). Another potential spoil sport: the King's loyal lackey Frocin (the manic Damon Daunno) who's chomping at the bit to be the King's favorite right-hand-dude once again (a spot he lost to that darn Francais-speaking Tristan).

On paper, all this---including the story's inescapable tragic ending---sounds super-serious. So how does a show soften the blow, so to speak, on such a morose narrative? For the playful folks at Kneehigh, it's by injecting cheeky humor and bold, creative theatrics into the mix, adding an extra-heightened sense of bliss to the discovery and attainment of love.

What's cool though is that by doing so, Kneehigh's added layers of joy and unconventional storytelling reveal a surprising poignancy and unexpected depth to an otherwise familiar classical trope.

Though, sure, on the onset, the mechanisms in TRISTAN AND YSEULT (the audience sing/clap-alongs, the balloon sequence, the pop music, the fourth wall-breaking cast) feel a bit forced and has the potential to overstay its welcome. But, gladly, Kneehigh's lively production doesn't present its eccentricity for eccentricity's sake. Rather, it all ultimately feels like a warm blanket embracing you with a protective, comforting hug that preps you for the harsher things to come.

Adapted and directed by Emma Rice from a script written by Carl Grose and Anna Maria Murphy, this oddball, ecstatic TRISTAN AND YSEULT is keenly meta-aware and cognizant of its own devices, which is perhaps why the whole charming enterprise makes for a spirited theatrical experience. What truly elevates this outside-the-box production---aside from its incredibly talented cast of actors, dancers, comics, and musicians---is its effective way of lulling you into all this fun and frivolity only to surprise you with a wallop of intense emotions you almost don't see coming. Almost.

The tragic events that eventually befall our doomed characters aren't played for mere laughs (though it wouldn't necessarily be wrong if they do); they actually tend to feel more heartbreaking when juxtaposed against all the humor these exceptional artists have so brilliantly distracted us all with in the first half.

No surprise, the second half gets a bit darker as the stakes continually increase. Even the surprise breakout into the peppy Pharrell Williams/Daft Punk ditty "Get Lucky" (preceded by the Police and Bob Marley) can only provide a temporary respite. Well, at least it made for a lively enough moment to perk up the usual sleepy matinee crowd.

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