@ Royal Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh, until Sat 9 Apr 2016
‘Thomas Aikenhead – who the fuck is he?’
It’s a line from one of the opening numbers of this quirky ensemble musical, but one which stays deliberately unanswered in concrete terms. The last man in Britain executed for blasphemy in 1697 is all we know, and all we need to know. Appearance, character, motivation are all up for grabs, and Told By An Idiot, the National Theatre of Scotland and the Lyceum make the most of it in this playful co-produced piece of theatre.
Over the course of two hours, each of the cast in turn *is* Thomas. He is a tall, black man; a wee, Scottish woman; a young protest singer; a middle-aged astronomer. As with I’m Not There, the strange Bob Dylan biopic where the singer is made “unknowable” by being played by a succession of actors, so Thomas becomes whatever we choose to make of him. There’s something of “I’m Spartacus” about the way the actors stake claims to be our blaspheming (anti-)hero or, as the final scene makes explicit, hints of a more recent phenomenon.
With facts thin on the ground, director Paul Hunter has played fast and loose with the story, and the costumes, and the set, and anything else which isn’t nailed down. There’s an incongruous 70s look to the costumes – Myra Mcfadyen is a Bay City Roller, Dominic Marsh a Bolan-esque dandy. Then it transpires, via a very funny recurring football commentary skit, that maybe there’s reason in it. Was iconoclastic Thomas a beacon in the dark ages of 17th century Scotland, in the same way that Archie Gemmill lit up dreary 70s Scotland with that goal?
The music is impeccable, truly beautiful, and would grace a straight musical. It’s equally impeccably performed. Mcfadyen has a real soulful folkiness to her, a (shhh… don’t tell Aikenhead) God-given voice. Likewise, John Pfumojena‘s plaintive falsetto comes from the heavens. Poet Simon Armitage‘s lyrics have his trademark earthy wit and Yorkshire bluntness (see the opening line above), although it’s possible to detect a self-certain New Athiest sneer in places. (Whether this detracts or enhances the piece depends on your personal sensitivities, of course.)
If only the abundance of ideas didn’t threaten to knock the show sideways. I Am Thomas is an overloaded charabanc headed off on its holidays – a big bundle of fun, but it wobbles as it gets going. It’s a third of the way through before a proper groove is established, and that comes at some expense…
The final number is a showstopper, no doubt, topped off by Pfumojena’s majestic falsetto. But by this point, a traditional musical would have manipulated our emotions to a matching climax. Tears might have been shed. With I Am Thomas, we’re still playing catch-up. Our emotional connection to this elusive chap is not as deep as the wonderful music deserves. Maybe that’s your fate for dissing The Almighty, Tommy boy – eternally damned to be a cold concept, rather than a human being!
His contemporaries killed him, Satan may well be toasting marshmallows on his soul, but here on 21st century earth, Told By An Idiot, NTS and the Lyceum have given this name from the history books a colourful, theatrical new life as a metaphor for enlightenment and rebellion. Thomas Aikenhead – whoever the fuck he is – would presumably be proud.