The overemphatic melodrama of Your Lie in April fails to convince me of the marriage between managa and musical theatre at the Harold Pinter Theatre
“Who put you in charge here?”
Based on the manga of the same name by Naoshi Arakawa, Your Lie in April arrives at the Harold Pinter Theatre in a full production, after a semi-staged concert earlier in the year. For all that it feels like a brand new world being introduced to the West End – and this notable for being the first ever completely East and South East Asian cast in a musical here – the overriding sense is of unfulfilled potential, particularly in carrying the unique voice of the source material.
Inevitably, this is the English language premiere, Riko Sakaguchi’s original book inspiring Rinne B Groff’s English language book but as an act of storytelling, it feels much has been lost in translation or perhaps in the adaptation. Even with precious few key characters, there’s a real thinness to the plot and a real lack of vital exposition to help us understand the interrelationships between these teenagers and why they’re all so dramatic.
Melodrama is the name of the game – piano prodigy Kōsei (Zheng Xi Yong) has lost his musical mojo since the death of his harsh taskmaster of a mother and it is only the arrival of manic pixie violinist Kaori (Mia Kobayashi) that inspires him anew, let’s hope she makes it through the second act then…. With so many songs packed into the over-emphatic score though, there’s no room for any nuance or depth to grow even with the leads, never mind the poor supporting characters.
That score by Frank Wildhorn is quite something too. Evoking nothing so much as a set of Whitney b-sides from the 80s (and don’t get me wrong, I love me a Whitney b-side from the 80s), it is an unrelenting wash of generic power pop that feels painfully unspecific to the story here, Carly Robyn Green and Tracy Miller’s lyrics rarely aiming beyond cliché. Numbers like ‘Perfect’ and ‘One Hundred Thousand Million Stars’ prove radio-friendly rather than essential musical theatre moments.
Nick Winston’s production also raises questions in some of its decision making. Why is so much of Justin Williams’ set design static, leaving the stage feeling so cluttered? In a show about the power of music, how can you have so many people climbing on a piano?! Why have accomplished pianist Yong play Kōsei’s solos but have Kobayashi mime Kaori’s violin-playing (Akiko Ishikawa subs in onstage beautifully)? Not treating the roles the same is notable. And in a show that owes so much to manga, how can there be so little visual representation of that iconic visual style, particularly in Dan Light’s video?
Yong and Kobayashi battle valiantly to inject real emotion into all the melodrama but being directed to belt so much of their singing, little of their overwrought teenage angst comes over as anything genuinely moving. Dean John-Wilson and Rachel Clare Chan as their pals Ryota and Tsubaki manage more stage presence with their severely underwritten lead supporting parts and ironically, it is Ernest Stroud and Ericka Posadas who cut through most with their small but impactful interjections as Takeshi and Emi, amusing rivals to Kōsei.
There’s hints of potential for something magical here but on this evidence, I’m not sure Your Lie in April makes the case for the marriage of manga and musical theatre. I do write as a complete newbie to manga but I can only respond to what was in front of me, an aesthetic that felt, looked and sounded closer to US high school teen drama rather than the spirit of Japan that I was expecting.
