Mermaid, Traverse

Lonely teenager Blue, rejected by her wealthier schoolfriends because her father's unemployment means she's wearing the 'wrong' trainers, looks to her own imagination for comfort and writes her own retelling of the classic Hans Christian Andersen tale, taking the darkness of the original and focussing it on the modern world.  The little mermaid seeks to become human and earn the love of her Prince, but the price she pays is the loss of her beautiful voice, and with it her own sense of identity.  She can only recover that voice when she has the courage to be herself again.

And if that all sounds a bit too heavy handed then, sadly, that's too often how the script comes across.  It takes aim at a number of worthy targets.  There's our media obsession with women's physical appearance, and the manner in which the image of celebrity is manufactured.  The meaninglessness, human destruction and toxic legacy of war and the consequent flight of refugees across the water.  Teenage bullying and even bulimia.  And, clunkiest of all, the Prince's reflections on the futility of human existence.  It's all a bit too scattergun and ends up saying little through trying to say too much.

There's not a lot of levity to be had either, although a Macbethified coven of sea witches give over some laughs, plus the only genuine moment of horror in the performance.  And the silent pantomime of the beauticians transforming the now human mermaid into a stereotypical princess is the funniest scene of the play.

Despite these difficulties there are some excellent performances from the cast, with all but Blue and the mermaid taking on multiple roles.  Finn Hanlon makes the best of what he's been given as the Prince, but it's Polly Frame as the Queen, Blue's mother and the mermaid's grandmer who does most to ground the production.

If much of this sounds negative there's still much to enjoy.  The staging is imaginative, with the mermaid and her sisters emerging from under the stage, which is raised up like a seaside pier.  Storms and war and media scrums are all well realised, properly dramatic.  There is impressive ensemble physicality in conveying these scenes, with some intricate choreography and haunting singing, whilst the movements of the mermaids across the set are balletic in their beauty.  Add in a chorus of local girls swaying on either side of the stage and you have some memorable visual and sonic tableaux.

But that beauty never quite makes up for the over stretched script, which begs for a greater sense of focus.  Mind you there was one of ultra-contemporary relevance, whether intentional or not.  The Prince, faced with taking on responsibilities he has no desire for, says that a life of great privilege leaves him unprepared to know anything of any use or value.  Now isn't that something to ponder before we place an X on the ballot paper tomorrow?