Swept Away -Book by John Logan; Music and Lyrics by The Avett Brothers; Directed by Jeremy Johnson; Music Direction by Paul S. Katz; Choreography by Ilyse Robbins;
Presented by SpeakEasy Stage Company, 527 Calderwood Pavilion for the Arts, Tremont St., through May 23.
By Shelley A. Sackett
By rights, SpeakEasy’s Swept Away should not be the crowd-pleaser it is. Its story is based on a true event that happened in 1884, when the British yacht Mignonette sank on its way to Australia, and only three of the four crew members were rescued. (That event inspired the Avett Brothers’ 2004 album, “Mignonette,” which inspired the musical). Swept Away substitutes the 1888 wreckage of a New Bedford whaling ship and the ensuing survival of its captain, two crewmen, and a cabin boy is hardly an uplifting (or novel) tale. Add in being lost at sea on a lifeboat for three weeks before hitting land and facing starvation, dehydration, and the temptation of cannibalism, and front-page news starts to feel less wretched.
Yet, this is no ordinary fish story gone awry.
Its New England premiere feels anything but tragic, owing to the spell spun by music (lyrics/music by the talented folk/rock Avett brothers), choreography (the unfailingly inspired Ilyse Robbins), stirring set and staging (Janie E. Howland) and powerful acting and singing by a terrific cast of four (Peter DiMaggio, Christopher Chew, Max Connor and Bishop Levesque). Add crisp, confident direction (Jeremy Johnson), pitch-perfect musical direction (Paul S. Katz), a script focused on its characters’ interiors (book by John Logan), haunting lighting (Karen Perlow), a melded ensemble, and even the entertaining distraction of an aerialist (Ezra Quinn), and rays of sun break through the play’s dark, heartbreaking curse.
The curtain rises in 1908 with the spectacular “Prelude,” which pulls out all the production stops. Transparent screens, an acrobat hanging from a sheet on the mast, moody lighting, strong harmonies and a tempered orchestra whose volume doesn’t compete with our ability to hear the lyrics literally set the stage for the next 90 minutes (no intermission). Robbins’ choreography has its own syncopation with hand-slapping and stomping, and acrobatic rolling and falling capture the energy of the tale about to unfold.
So does the refrain, “Tell the Truth. Fess up. Now or never. Tell the Truth.”
The rest of the plot happens in flashback to the 1888 last voyage of the doomed ship and its aftermath. It took these three survivors 20 years to garner the wherewithal to reveal what happened.
The Captain (Chew’s baritone is addictive) fills the role of narrator as he introduces the main characters and explains how “progress” (the use of kerosene and paraffin instead of blubber and whale oil) has made whaling obsolete. New Bedford’s residents are split between these coarse, seafaring footloose adventurers and the religious, earth-bound farmers. “Find the life that suits you,” Captain advises.
Mate (an absolutely pitch-perfect, multi-dimensional DiMaggio) and Captain have served together many times. Captain is at retirement age and, while lamenting the end of a lustrous career, has built a life on land with family who await him. Mate is scrappy, scruffy and itching for the thrills and lack of commitment that only a life at sea can scratch. Little Brother (Connor) knows nothing about seafaring except that it offers an escape from the shackles of his dull, religious family and their farming life. His Houdini attempt is partially obstructed by Big Brother (a steadfast evangelical yet compassionate and accessible Levesque), who stows away on the ship. He would rather leave the life he loves behind than abandon his little brother to the wily seduction of the likes of Mate.
Although the script lags in places (the plot is thin on action overall), there are dazzling moments, such as the stormy scene that sends our four survivors onto a lifeboat for six days. Lost at sea with no provisions or refuge from the scorching sun, their songs focus on hunger, hopelessness and horrible sins they would consider committing if it guaranteed they would stay alive. “Mama’s cooking something up, serving to us all; Satan’s ringing in now and I gotta take the call,” they sing in the catchy, “Satan Pulls the Strings.”
By the time of the show’s “great reveal,” we feel like we have really gotten to know and care for these four. We have been allowed entrance into what makes them tick and witnessed how they have (and not) changed as a result of their shared trauma and moral disgrace.
Yet, the questions they ask and lessons they’ve learned leave us on a surprisingly even keel. When they sing, “If you live the life you’re given, you won’t be scared to die,” we believe them.
Recommended.
For more information, visit https://speakeasystage.com/
