Review: THE UNLIKELY PILGRIMAGE OF HAROLD FRY, Chichester Festival Theatre

Harold Fry’s life is going nowhere, so he decides to get up and go somewhere. That somewhere is Berwick-upon-Tweed, an unlikely destination since: (a) he’s on foot, without even a water bottle for hydration, never mind his mobile; (b) he's retired and drives everywhere; and (c) he lives in South Devon, at a distance that might give The Proclaimers pause. It’s not his only destination though - he’s revisiting his troubled past and, dare I say it, en route to finding his very soul.

Harold is enjoys, or rather, endures an uncommunicative relationship with his wife Maureen - there’s so much to keep unsaid that nothing is actually said. On his way to post a letter to a woman who is dying, who is not an ex-lover, but who is clearly a cause for regret, a blue-haired girl in a garage introduces him to the concept of YOLO. So he keeps on walking, convincing himself that the same force of will that drives him forward will transfer to Queenie, the mystery woman, lying alone, stricken by cancer, in a hospice.    

Like Forrest Gump, he picks up followers on the road and, like Tommy, he becomes something of a cult leader, a little reluctantly, but his saviour complex is deep-seated and continually fuelled by two king-sized portions of unabsolved guilt. Nevertheless, he stays as ordinary as his name, decent and polite, an everyman whose judging is reserved for his own sins of omission and no-one else.

Mark Addy catches Harold beautifully in his first musical, The veteran actor doesn’t sing - well, not much - but he is the emotional heart of the show (and this is a show of emotions in both senses of that phrase), his best work done in slump-shouldered fatigue or in the painful summoning of energy when the needle is pointing to empty.

The rest of the (largely) multi-roling cast play off him. Jenna Russell’s Maureen brings out the heartache of the closed-off wife, sharp-tongued and wilfully distant from Harold, but lacerating herself just as much. Once he walks out, she realises that she has lost something (and, therefore, actually did have something to lose). She gets the best song of a strong and varied score by Passenger (Mike Rosenberg), “Such A Simple Thing”, but the best performance is delivered by the underused Sharon Rose’s call to action with the Garage Girl’s “Walk Upon The Water”.

Jack Wolfe, one of the most gifted young musical theatre stars around just now, plays as The Balladeer with a look that might have been painted by Caravaggio and a second identity that only becomes clear in the denouement. There’s room for a wonderfully conjured dog too, Timo Tatzber enchanting us with superbly expressive puppetry. 

With all that going for it and the solid foundation of book writer, Rachel Joyce’s, radio play that became a novel that became a film that becomes a musical, this crowdpleasing production is predestined to be a hit. And it almost certainly will be, especially as directed by Katy Rudd in the intimate Minerva Theatre in which we are compelled to feel the hurts. That said, the layering on and layering on of sentimentality, the ruthless manipulation of the audience’s responses and the relentless parade of heartwarming encounters will be a little too much for some. The saccharine is barely contained in a second act that piles in exposition, as the tears start to flow in the stalls. 

I didn’t feel the need to up sticks and walk back to London to escape the buffeting of the heartstrings, but the bracing night air came as a welcome relief. Mind you, I thought the same thing about Blood Brothers when I saw that in Liverpool 42 years ago - and how did that show do?      

The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry at Chichester Festival Theatre until 14 June

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