Review: DARK OF THE MOON, Charing Cross Theatre
This new supernatural musical is an adaptation of a 1939 play
The history of musical theatre was almost very different. In 1943, a ‘play with music’ called Dark of the Moon narrowly missed out on being selected for out-of-town tryouts in Connecticut, in favour of the genre-defining classic Oklahoma!. Now, after being reworked into a musical that premiered in California in 2023, Dark of the Moon arrives in London for the first time.
Like Oklahoma!, Dark of the Moon bubbles with toxic, competitive masculinity amid the dirty underbelly of a small American town (except in the Appalachians this time), and eventually escalates to gunfire. Unlike Oklahoma!, though, this small town has more than a hint of the supernatural.
Loosely based on a Scottish folk ballad, the musical tells the doomed love story of local misfit Barbara Allen (Lauren Jones) and the enigmatic John (Glenn Adamson), who’s never felt quite at home among the coven of witches (of all genders) into which he was born, but faces violent ostracism from Barbara’s God-fearing small town. Jonathan Prince’s book hints at something of a meditation on mortality – John signs a Faustian bargain with the coven, wherein he is granted the chance to live as a human, on condition that should he return to life as an immortal witch, Barbara will die.
Barbara’s characterisation, meanwhile, does not quite move beyond that of a girl vaguely misunderstood by her community, with undefined dreams of something bigger (the opening number feels effectively lifted from Beauty and the Beast). Hints of her past promiscuity, which might have added depth and history to her characterisation, remain frustratingly fleeting. Still, Adamson and Jones carry John and Barbara’s high-stakes forbidden romance with rich vocal harmonies and an intoxicating chemistry sure to appeal to romantasy fans.
Given the story’s origins in the Celtic folk tradition, it’s a shame that the score (by Lindy Robbins, Dave Bassett and Steve Robson) does not tap into these traditions more, except for a haunting set of mandolin interludes performed by ensemble member Kiah Lindsay. Some of the songs later in the show, especially the understated romantic duets between John and Barbara, could benefit from a sparser orchestration based less heavily on strings.
Far more successful, though, are the glam rock-influenced numbers given to the chorus of three androgynous, sexually overt witches (Al Knott, Appolilly Szwarc and Jordan Broatch). The trio call John back home with promises of threesomes and hedonism, and lithe, animalistic choreography, anchored by an authoritative vocal performance by Josie Benson as the coven’s sinister leader.
The witches are just one element of the rich visual world of this production, directed by Georgie Rankcom. Clad in nude bodysuits and tattered mesh skirts, and lurking in the rafters of Libby Todd’s set, they embody the sense of another world on the edge of Barbara’s town (even if the script does not lend much depth to that world beyond insatiable horniness). Lighting designer Jonathan Chan is also adept at hinting at the supernatural, bathing Adamson and his fellow witches in an uncanny blue glow.
As John and Barbara’s love story veers towards its tragic climax, Prince’s book lags, and lands on a fairly bland message condemning the town’s smallmindedness. This is at its heart an uncomplicated moral fable, unlikely to have had the impact that Oklahoma! did in 1943, but an intriguing newly discovered gem nonetheless.
Dark of the Moon plays at Charing Cross Theatre until 8 August
Photo credits: Tom Bowles
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