The Last Ship
Reviewed by Deborah Klugman
Center Theatre Group
Through February 16
The Last Ship is a good match for anyone with powerful empathy for the working-class men and women whose livelihoods over the past 50 years have been devastated by ruthless corporatism. It’s probably an agreeable one for theatergoers who, in their restless rebellious youth, may have pulled up roots to venture out into the world, leaving friends and family behind. And the show is a fortuitous opportunity for fans of Sting, the internationally famous British musician who birthed the idea behind it, wrote the score and lyrics, and is featured among the ensemble.
Set in Wallsend, a town in northeast England, the story draws on aspects of Sting’s youth; Wallsend is where he grew up, within (by his own account) “spitting distance” of a shipyard, watching the shipbuilders come and go every day while trying to figure out how he might craft for himself another kind of life.
The time is 1986. Margaret Thatcher, Ronald Reagan’s British counterpart, is prime minister. A proponent of trickle-down economics, “Iron Lady” Thatcher took an axe to the welfare state, while promoting deregulation and the privatization of state-owned companies and gutting trade unions. In the story, a Thatcher proxy (Annie Grace) accompanies a shipyard owner (Sean Kearns) on the occasion of his announcement to the workers that the yard is ceasing operation, and they will have no choice but to accept lower wages as unskilled workers or be without jobs altogether. Sting plays Jackie, the shipyard foreman, who attempts to shepherd his bewildered angry colleagues through the pain and betrayal of this inevitable transition.
The trials and tribulations of the workers are juxtaposed with a love story between one of the town’s prodigal sons, Gideon (Oliver Savile as adult Gideon, Joseph Peacock in his adolescence), who took to the sea rather than become a shipyard worker like his father, and Meg, (Frances McNamee as adult Meg, Jade Sophia Vertannes in her adolescence), the pregnant sweetheart he left behind. After he left, Meg gave birth to a daughter, Ellen (Sophie Reid), then went on to become a local businesswoman, owner of a pub and several other enterprises. She is understandably furious at Gideon for abandoning her and then popping up 17 years later, wanting to pick up where they left off. Ellen, also ticked off at her dad, is preparing to leave home, guitar in hand and dreams of a life as a professional musician in mind.
Directed by Lorne Campbell (who also wrote the revised book; the original was penned by John Logan and Brian Yorkey), The Last Ship is a paean to a community and way of life that are no more. The shipyard workers from Sting’s childhood worked hard and drank hard and struggled financially but took great pride in their craft, passing that heritage onto their sons. The play pays equal tribute to their strong-spirited women, who take charge when the fortunes of their men run aground.
All this comes through in the songs — mellifluously rhymed, image-laden lyrics (though, given the accent, it helps to read them first), with an undertow of yearning, and melodies underlaid with folk and Scottish cadence. The harmonies are dense while the themes, strong and simple, are love, work and death.
A kindred power, however, is lacking in the book and the direction. With the actors, Campbell makes the most missteps, staging intimate scenes with the players positioned far apart. This is especially detrimental in exchanges between Gideon and Meg, and others between Gideon and Ellen, which are not terribly involving anyway, given Savile’s stock delivery and the zero-sum chemistry between him and McNamee. And the crisis in the lives of the workers might have been appreciated by us more keenly if these characters and their back stories had been more explicitly developed. We know where these people are coming from — we understand their fear and desperate bravado through the lyrics — but having it spotlighted with more depth outside the music would have invigorated the drama. The narrative also is awkward in critical places; it does not flow. Movement director Lucy Hinds’s choreography is unremarkable.
As to production values, there’s a somber imposing set (59 Productions) along with special effects that vividly intimate overcast skies and perilous storms. But tall dark constructs on either side of the stage, as well as steps front and center, serve no real function but do compress the playing area, a disadvantage with an 18-person ensemble, especially with choreographed musical numbers.
McNamee’s vocals in “It’s Not the Same Moon” and elsewhere are a highlight. Both she and Jackie Morrison as Peg White, Jackie’s wife, craft the most compelling portrayals.
In an interview (available on YouTube) Sting relayed what inspired The Last Ship — that, after a lifetime of fame and success he felt the need to return home, to pay a debt to this community where his roots lay. While this production is not everything it might be, the passion and heart that’s driven its creation is evident in the music, even as the story it spins is very much worth recalling.
The Ahmanson Theatre, 135 S. Grand Ave., Downtown L.A.; Tues.-Fri., 8 p.m.; Sat., 2 p.m.; Sun., 1 p.m. & 6:30 p.m.; through Feb. 16. (213) 972-4400 or www.centertheatregroup.org. Running time: two hours and 45 minutes with an intermission.
