[2012026] The Lonely Man [FringeTIX]
Jamie Jewell @ La Bohème
6:00pm, Wed 22 Feb 2012
As we do the ticketing dance upon entry to La Bohème, we’re asked to pick a shape – triangle or square – and drop it into a collection box. I went with triangle – it looked like a sad face, and I was feeling a bit down. I asked for the meaning of the selection; “it affects the outcome of the show,” I was told.
I take a seat at a cocktail seat at the back of the room and have a nice little chat with Anne whilst eying the elaborate set: there’s shelves aplenty, all adorned with trinkets and boxes and decorations that evoke a sense of quiet sadness, of melancholy. I spot two boxes sporting the triangle and square that we’d been offered earlier; that’s the climax of the show, I thought, hidden in that box.
With the front door closed, Carol Young (from Music to Watch Boys By) trots out and sits at the piano. She starts playing, and then Jamie Jewell is stumbling in from outside, and while his opening number of The Show Must Go On is solid, it’s most definitely affected by his movement through the crowd – it’s not the cleanest rendition I’ve ever heard. He’s straight into the second song – another cabaret familiar – and I’m starting to think “great – a bunch of classics, dressed up with a complex set.”
But then Jewell hits his stride with Over the Rainbow – it’s fabulous, and so is the remainder of his songs. But it’s the theatrical component of the show that generates a real sense of melancholy; early on, he wanders through the crowd plucking bulldog clips from under tables, using them as cufflinks. He rearranges boxes in their shelves, finds parts of his teddy bear; he reassembles the bear with the help of a bit of spittle and dances lovingly with it – it feels like he’s lamenting the loss of love.
Suddenly, there’s a knock at La Bohème’s front door: “Who is it?” he calls, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “Opportunity,” comes the answer. He opens the door a crack, and a hand pokes through with one of the triangles; he returns to the set, takes the triangle box off the shelf, and opens it… it contains a frowning wooden mask. Slowly he undresses; when he drops his trousers to reveal his naked arse, a women on the table next to me shrieks in disbelief… then, as Jewell symbolises his suicide to end the show, the same woman whistles way too loud for the tiny venue.
The Lonely Man is most definitely not a feel-good show, but it is a quality piece of cabaret – albeit drenched in melancholy. After a shaky start, Jewell puts in a great performance, and Carol Young’s piano is more than capable accompaniment. And I must admit to being curious with regards to the “square” ending…