Fly More Than You Fall – Southwark Playhouse Elephant, London

Book and Lyrics: Eric Holmes

Music and Lyrics: Nat Zegree

Director: Christian Durham

15-year-old Malia is a sunny school kid with ambitions to be a writer. Her optimism is undaunted even when the other students at a writing summer camp lay into her story, a younger-skewing allegory about a bird who can’t fly. But when her mother is diagnosed with Stage IV cancer, Malia’s optimism is tested to the limit.

That is the theory behindFly More Than You Fall, a new musical by Eric Holmes and Nat Zegree. But while some of the elements within give insights about what it’s like to deal with the loss of a parent and mix humour with pockets of emotion, there is so much cruft that its message tends to get lost.

Stewart J Charlesworth’s set, dressed to resemble huge wings made out of crumpled sheets of pastel paper, lends a pre-school air to proceedings, not helped by the similarly coloured costumes of most of the other characters. This reinforces the impression that Robyn Rose-Li’s Malia is much younger than she actually is. Combined with the simplistic story she is writing – about Maddison Bullyment’s Willowand the bird’s quest to reach the top of a mountain – it infantilises the central character.

Granted, that does play into how Malia’s parents treat her. Keala Settle’s Jennifer, a loving but bossy English teacher, and Cavin Cornwall’s strait-laced, authoritarian Paul treat their daughter as an extension of their own life. Attempts for Malia to meet friends are thwarted when she is guilt-tripped into staying home to spend one more day watching old movie musicals with her dying mother, and then blame her when she expresses unhappiness at the situation.

Annoyingly for a musical featuring a woman with such vocal ability, Settle has rare opportunities to use the voice that came to global attention when she starred inThe Greatest Showman. She and Rose-Li share some songs that allow both to demonstrate their vocal powers. But in a musical centred on Jennifer’s health and the effect that (and her subsequent death) has on her daughter, one is left waiting for a solo that could express how the mother feels about leaving her family behind.

Indeed, the songs generally struggle to break through, especially in a simplistic first act that perpetually struggles to find the plot within. The story only kicks into a higher gear at the start of Act II at Jennifer’s funeral. The difference is so stark that one wishes that the story structure allowed the whole evening to concentrate on the aftermath of the family’s loss.

Instead, Malia’s loss of faith in her own writing, her flashes of anger toward her father, and all the things that could make for a good story feel rushed and ill-thought-through. The same goes for the re-enactments of Malia’s evolving story; without Jennifer’s pushing of her daughter, Willow’s tale becomes anodyne and less meaningful in the musical’s world. That it does so is less obvious to usbecause there is so little change to how it was already portrayed.

The introduction of interplay between Rose-Li’s Malia and Bullyment’s fictional Willow hints at what could have been achieved had that theatrical device been applied consistently. But it also highlights that Settle’s character, completely absent from Act II until the finale, could also be utilised better as an imaginary sounding board as Malia struggles with her grief.

There are bright spots. Rose-Li’s sunny disposition is beguilingly charming, and Max Gill makes good use of their underwritten role of Caleb, a friend from writing camp who also lost their mother. Rose-Li and Gill make the most of a plot contrivance that forces them to spend most of their interactions emulating chat messages; on the rare occasions Gill is able to physically interact with their costars, they bring with them an emotional heft that feels more genuine than the musical’s main through line.

And those text messages play into a fine strand of humour, with running jokes about autocorrect and adults’ inability to use emojis correctly that manage to amuse consistently throughout. They’re not the only parts of the book that hit on some humorous moments. But elsewhere, the story and its execution feel like they hit familiar beats without adding much fresh or original to say.

Before her mother falls sick, Malia’s optimistic outlook is such that she believes one should keep trying and trying – and in doing so, you will fly more than you fall. It is a shame that the musical to which that aphorism gives its name doesn’t soar as one might have hoped. It doesn’t crash and burn either, but the best that can be said is that one looks forward to the creatives involved trying again.

Continues until 23 November 2024