In 2023 – amidst a cost of living crisis, where people are struggling to pay their bills, find meaningful work and are desperate for a glimpse of hope – spending an evening watching a musical about a bunch of hard-up, twentysomething Irish misfits attempting to realise their dream of forming a successful soul band, The Commitments, in the late 80s doesn’t seem so out of place.
Closely following the plot from the 1991 musical comedy-drama directed by Alan Parker, which in turn was based on the 1987 novel by Roddy Doyle, tonight the entire performance of The Commitments at Cardiff’s Wales Millennium Centre glides along as effortlessly as the soul-drenched notes from the trumpet of Stuart Reid, who plays Joey ‘The Lips’ Fagan. The music is heartfelt, slick and en pointe; the show’s set arrangements, with a turn of a hinge here and a pull-out prop there, effortlessly fall into place, setting each new scene as quickly as an excited child with a TV remote.
For those who remember the movie, the plot should be familiar – indeed, part of the appeal is listening for one-liners and significant events long since committed to memory (though with the dialogue moving at a pretty relentless pace, in thick Dublin brogues, it may not be so easy to spot the former). The scenes ought to largely accord with what you already know – even if band manager Jimmy Rabbitte (James Killeen) sat in the bath revelling in a fantasy dialogue with journalists about his band’s road to success is conspicuously missing. The ending, too, has been replaced with a far less poignant scene than the movie’s bittersweet one, perhaps due to theatrical limitations.
While the acting is great, particularly for this type of feel-good, easy-watching spectacle, the show hits you over the head with its funnybone once too often – notes of poignancy aren’t held for any meaningful length of time, pathos interrupted with another quip. Meanwhile, the part of Mickah (Ronnie Yorke) – the band’s inexperienced, devil-may-care bouncer who’s more than happy to put his thuggish behaviour to good use – is over-dramatised, his use of comedic violence like watching Bugs Bunny endlessly whack Elmer Fudd with a mallet.
These issues lay with the script and stage direction rather than the actors – so a few tweaks and a less-is-more approach wouldn’t go amiss. Not that The Commitments was ever intended to be Shakespeare with a backbeat, but given its subject matter of poverty, hopelessness, and the inevitable dream of escape finally circling the drain, the show has scope to handle these moments better.
The show’s finale sees Rabbitte break the fourth wall, introducing us to the band with an invitation to stand, dance and clap along. Classics like Mustang Sally, Mr Pitiful, In The Midnight Hour and Knock On Wood are wonderful to see and hear performed, as the fictional and real-world combine to turn this play into a gig. Arguably, it also makes up for a rather lacklustre ending to the story of The Commitments, whose dreams have come to nought, and yet is treated as a mild inconvenience, displaying neither convincing heartbreak nor any real hope for what may follow.
Seasoned musicians may take it for granted that bands break up, and new ones form – but other audience members might deserve more consideration for their emotional investment than what this lazy conclusion provides. Nostalgia and good music, however, attempt a rescue. And for some, it is enough.
The Commitments, Wales Millennium Centre, Cardiff Bay, Mon 22 May
On until Sat 27 May. Tickets: £19-£63. Info: here
words OLIVER R. MOORE-HOWELLS
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