Seymour Performers Workshop is putting on Dogfight. Photo: Supplied
The Seymour Performers Workshop has again opened a show for what I am sure will be a memorable and successful season, showcasing the SPW troupe’s creativity and depth.
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Dogfight covers the subject matter of marines being sent by JFK to Vietnam in 1963 (before that conflict got all out of hand).
This premise, added to the uniqueness that it is based on a 1991 movie and then 2012 book, is at odds with itself at first, but the cast rally early to get the mood just right because clearly there won’t be razzle dazzle.
Laura Hogan gives a flawless performance as Rose Finney.
Charlie Mustoe and Laura Hogan are strong leads, particularly Hogan, who carried the role of Rose with flawless perfection. I can’t praise her enough; she should be in the West End – something I have never said of anyone. The show is worth seeing just for her performance – I might go back.
And that’s not to take anything from Mustoe, who is note perfect almost throughout, such that when the music challenges him in a final solo, he’s forgiven, possibly because of the emotion in the piece, which he carries with heart.
The ensemble had a few opening-night blips, but they were hardly noticed, and if any of the performers pushed a bit too hard, it simply added to the paradox of a musical being about a war that didn’t end well.
The plot is unique and could be hard to follow if you’re not listening; the script has a couple of clunks that would have ticked off Gielgud, but Kimberley Read’s choreography gives us a climax to remember.
Andrew Hogan’s mezzanine set works well, although it leaves Kevin Pinto hanging for a bit before he recovers in the role of lounge singer, and opening night lighting nerves had actors in the dark up there at a few key moments.
Similarly, peaked caps only work with footlights – the garrison caps at the start were just fine.
The set changes are slick except for one too early before the restaurant scene, interrupting a beautiful duet; but only because it was a beautiful duet.
Paul Lejins’s arrangement of the score is like a Tardis: pounding out a performance bigger than you’d think a sextet could, and directors Madeleine Lezon and Lucy Pennington have done well all round to get the cast ship-shape with such a challenging story.
I’d pick apart an early number where, oddly, the chorus virtually have their backs to the audience, and any of the actors’ single hand gestures were rarely upstage, suffocating characters slightly.
And, rather pettily, preferred pronouns for cast and crew in a program really grate – we are not corresponding with them, so we don’t need to know this enforced fad.
Peter Lejins (centre) leads an ensemble with perfect timing.
Lastly, look out for Peter Lejins, who I wish didn’t have so much on his plate – finishing a medical degree, no less – for he plays the larrikin Bernstein much in the style of Rick Gomez or James Madio.
He’s a comic relief needed for such a heavy plot. He did not skip a single beat, particularly his comic timing, which is scripted well amid such difficult subject matter.
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