Emma John

Between Mona Mansour’s book and Corneau’s corny and repetitive lyrics (“Trust is a funny thing / You have it one day and then it’s gone”) we never get more than a superficial drawing of the central couple. There’s no sense here of why they were so dazzling, or darkly troubled. David Hunter works to bring out F Scott’s mix of arrogance and insecurity, Amy Parker – who stepped in for Corneau on opening night – belts out Zelda’s emotions as a wall of lights bursts suddenly behind her, and there’s some tender romance to their Alabama meeting in One Night in July.

Director Daniel Aukin’s production is as exacting and truthful as the script itself. Sounds and voices overlap as mic channels are opened and closed; silences are underscored with boredom and exhaustion. In between the kit-tinkering and longueurs are moments of creative transcendence, including a late-night epiphany so electrifying that the sound waves will excite your internal organs. The cast, playing their own instruments, convince as an ensemble of longstanding and Lucy Karczewski, as Diana, has a voice that captivates even when it is exposed and cracking in a tense overdubbing session.

The production’s full-bore approach to emotion is reminiscent of Come from Away; there are times when it substitutes pure sentiment for satisfying narrative structure, particularly in the second act as Button faces the unavoidably human experiences of loss and grief. Sometimes the fiddle tunes begin to blend into each other, too, although A Little Life may stick in your head like a mackerel in a net.

Sarah Beaton and Johanna Town’s screen and light projections offer an elegant complement to the spare staging but can’t quite break the arid, academic feel of the production. Sally’s journey is nicely marked – from eating ice cream sundaes when we first meet, to her final meeting with her boyfriend who notes her drinking “hard liquor”. But Cecilia’s story never quite takes to the skies. Nevertheless, she persisted.