There can't be many, if any, other musicals that begin with the house lights up. But the fourth wall has already been broken tonight. A few lucky theatre-goers have enjoyed their pre-show drinks from the bar on stage while the whole cast of actor-musicians play their myriad instruments in the centre.
Once, the John Tiffany-directed stage production based on John Carney's Oscar-winning low-budget film, is a musical like no other. It looks different and it feels as such, softly reeling the audience into its Dubliner world: essentially a bar with mirrored back wall, which offers the audience a unique view.
There's nothing grand here. The colouring is brown. The vibe is 'brown'. The cast look ordinary. Its two principal characters don't even have names, known simply as Guy, a guitar-playing busker from Dublin, and Girl, a Czech pianist.
But that's the beauty. The story of Guy and Girl's random meeting, shared love of music and quest to make something of his songs unfolds over a short period with little high drama and subtle effect; all the time nurturing a chemistry between them – and the audience – that almost dare not speak its name.
Everything remains understated, even the particularly poignant moment when Girl admits her true feelings in Czech to a none-the-wiser Guy: cue a resounding sigh from the audience, who read the translation on a dot matrix display above the bar.
And there are just enough lighter moments. Girl's quirky optimism and Guy's dry humour complement each other perfectly while Girl's colourful family, an eccentric bank manager and a loveable rogue pepper the show with comedy.
Adding to the production's lack of vanity are the relatively unknown lead actors, both of whom are outstanding. Zrinka Cvitešiæ (Girl) is a name in her native Croatia, and won its version of Strictly Come Dancing; solo artist in his own right Declan Bennett (Guy) has been a star in the making since treading the boards in Boy George's musical Taboo before heading to Broadway for Rent and American Idiot.
The staging is also without fuss. Each scene segues into the next with quietly choreographed precision; the cast present throughout, sitting around the edges clutching instruments.
Once is wonderfully rustic, underscored by its honesty, striking a chord at every turn. And, unsurprisingly for a production that pivots around music, it's the achingly tender score that makes the biggest emotive impression. When the show culminates in a reprise of signature song Falling Slowly, it looks as though Cvitešiæ sheds real tears. It's doubtless she's the only one here genuinely moved.
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