Jack McGee
Before I say anything about Sing me the Sweetest Songs, I have to get something out of the way. This show has the best programme (Samson Dell) of any show I’ve ever seen. I wholeheartedly believe it necessitates the creation of a Fringe Award for Best Programme.
Here’s a picture.
Not only is it elegant and beautifully designed, but it’s prayer-sheet-meets-wedding-invitation flavour make it a near essential part of the play. Wallflower Productions committed to printing enough programmes that they’d be one on every seat. Everyone in the audience has to engage with it, even if just to pick it up. We also have to choose whether we want to take part in communion. We’re offered crackers (there’s a joke in the play that they ran out of wafers) as we enter, and told we’ll know when to take them.
These two little acts, a programme and a rice cracker, take so much strain off of the play. It takes a huge part of the burden of world building off of the text. It’s a testament to how a cohesive design vision can capture our imaginations, helping fill in the gaps in Eastwood and Zalan Orban’s striking but minimalist sheet-based set. I’m stepping into the show's setting, a teenage-christian-camp, minutes before the lights go down.
This is reflective of what I love about Sing me the Sweetest Songs; there’s all these unexpected places where it’s more polished than you’d expect for a fringe show. It’s marketing is involving and beautifully photographed (Samson Dell), it’s choreography is punchy and dynamic (Mia Page), and the singing is filled with fantastic harmonies (Eastwood is credited as both director sound designer, unsure if they also served as musical director). This is the kind of show where you can feel the heart and passion of it’s team leaking out, just in the sheer dedication required to fill out all of these little corners. It’s a show I’m wholeheartedly rooting for, which makes the fact that it doesn’t fully work for me difficult.
Nuanced Conversation.
From my research, this is Eastwood’s second staged play with Wallflower Productions, which is a thrill to see as so few playwrights or companies make it to the sophomore effort. The first work, What are Sisters For? debuted in last year’s Fringe Festival, and together they form the beginnings of what I imagine will be a long body of work, from both Wallflower and Eastwood, of stories about “outsiders”, specifically young women, and queer people.
At it’s best, the dialogue of Sing me the Sweetest Songs is lyrical, poignant, and self-aware. There are occasional pockets of poetic monologue that allow the play’s characters to acknowledge the liminal place they’re in their lives. In a classic coming of age trope, everyone is aging out. This is the last church camp these teenagers will be going to. They’re all on the precipice of adulthood, and we’re spending time with them during the in between. There’s a scene near the end of the play which astounds me, in which our characters are all sitting around staring at clouds. One of the clouds is shaped like a lamb, and this is levied by the play as means to discuss the specific tensions of this liminal space in a Christian context. The value of purity and innocence imposed by the church makes the transition out of youth so much more complex. It’s a cocktail of freedom, guilt, and genuine concern over what your continued relationship with faith, or the lamb himself, may look like.
Unfortunately, most of the dialogue in the play is not operating on this level. Instead it is heavy on exposition. Characters regularly remind one another of information they already know, “You know, she is your best friend”, as a quick way to give the audience context. A lot of the context being clarified isn’t even necessary - we either know that information through context clues, or it’s not thematically or emotionally relevant.
Building on this, I am frustrated that the script often veers around complexity and nuance in favour of quick resolution. The intersection of Christian faith and queer identity is about as wriggly and layered as any subject can get. In my experience, every Christian person I know, both queer and otherwise, has a different and unique relationship with this. There’s a spectrum that ranges from deeply internalised guilt, to somewhat affable everything’s-a-sin-don’t-worry-about-it dismissal, to the choice to fully reject those sections of the bible and focus on the principles of Christ himself.
While the characters of Sing me the Sweetest Songs are spotted along this spectrum, the play tends to skim over the surface of this discussion. The closest we get to a meaningful exploration of it is at the end, when a character coming out as non-binary opens up about their fear of god. Discussion pivots to the famous verse from Leviticus - “You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; it is an abomination” and the fact that it’s been historically mistranslated, with understanding that the original intent was referring to men laying with boys, and therefore condemning paedophilia. It’s an interesting point, and one that would definitely come up at a bible camp. Frustratingly, this is where the discussion ends. I find this an incredibly surface level perspective on the subject. I understand that these characters are teenagers, but that’s not an excuse for the play to avoid actually confronting the subject. Teenagers are smart, and one of the beauties of art is that it can go deeper than we can in real life.
There are dozens, if not hundreds, of bible quotes, especially from Old Testament books like Leviticus, that are evidently not applicable to modern life. Let’s take Deuteronomy 22:21 for example, “then they shall bring out the damsel to the door of her father’s house, and the men of her city shall stone her with stones that she die…” “ ...to play the whore in her father’s house; so shalt thou put evil away from among you.” The idea that we can um-actually a single bible verse to prove a wider point about acceptance is pretty hollow when we view it with this in mind. This is why this is such an interesting subject, and why people have such wildly different ways of dealing with it. In the director’s note, Eastwood describes a desire to “create space to hold these nuanced conversations”, so evidently the show wants to go there. I really want it to, too. Let’s see the version of this show where characters interrogate and challenge one another. Where they pull this apart from all sides. There are contemporary and fascinating trans readings of the bible, which could be added to the mix, the sky is the limit!
This is all made worse by the fact that after the discussion on the Leviticus verse finishes, one of the characters immediately undercuts the whole conversation by stating that they aren’t fully convinced on God anyway. For drama to work, we need to feel that characters' opinions matter to them. If they don’t care, why should we? There is a character in the play, Mary (Ophelia Muller), who is ostensibly more devout than the others and is pursuing further theological training. She is an opportunity to find so much depth and diversity of opinion in this text, and instead ends up having remarkably similar perspectives to those around her.
My fear, is that there’s a belief that to go deeper, and have it’s characters be thornier, would make the coming-of-age sections of Sing me the Sweetest Songs less successful. I fully believe the opposite. The wholesome moments would feel much warmer, if they came in the face of genuine, complex, disagreement. If these conversations weren’t a thin coat being painted over a series of quickly resolved coming of age conflicts. All of these issues, from agony over leaving a relationship, to choosing not to follow your parent's wishes and leave the country, become more interesting when the complexities of faith are woven into their fabric.
These two little acts, a programme and a rice cracker, take so much strain off of the play. It takes a huge part of the burden of world building off of the text. It’s a testament to how a cohesive design vision can capture our imaginations, helping fill in the gaps in Eastwood and Zalan Orban’s striking but minimalist sheet-based set. I’m stepping into the show's setting, a teenage-christian-camp, minutes before the lights go down.
This is reflective of what I love about Sing me the Sweetest Songs; there’s all these unexpected places where it’s more polished than you’d expect for a fringe show. It’s marketing is involving and beautifully photographed (Samson Dell), it’s choreography is punchy and dynamic (Mia Page), and the singing is filled with fantastic harmonies (Eastwood is credited as both director sound designer, unsure if they also served as musical director). This is the kind of show where you can feel the heart and passion of it’s team leaking out, just in the sheer dedication required to fill out all of these little corners. It’s a show I’m wholeheartedly rooting for, which makes the fact that it doesn’t fully work for me difficult.
Nuanced Conversation.
From my research, this is Eastwood’s second staged play with Wallflower Productions, which is a thrill to see as so few playwrights or companies make it to the sophomore effort. The first work, What are Sisters For? debuted in last year’s Fringe Festival, and together they form the beginnings of what I imagine will be a long body of work, from both Wallflower and Eastwood, of stories about “outsiders”, specifically young women, and queer people.
At it’s best, the dialogue of Sing me the Sweetest Songs is lyrical, poignant, and self-aware. There are occasional pockets of poetic monologue that allow the play’s characters to acknowledge the liminal place they’re in their lives. In a classic coming of age trope, everyone is aging out. This is the last church camp these teenagers will be going to. They’re all on the precipice of adulthood, and we’re spending time with them during the in between. There’s a scene near the end of the play which astounds me, in which our characters are all sitting around staring at clouds. One of the clouds is shaped like a lamb, and this is levied by the play as means to discuss the specific tensions of this liminal space in a Christian context. The value of purity and innocence imposed by the church makes the transition out of youth so much more complex. It’s a cocktail of freedom, guilt, and genuine concern over what your continued relationship with faith, or the lamb himself, may look like.
Unfortunately, most of the dialogue in the play is not operating on this level. Instead it is heavy on exposition. Characters regularly remind one another of information they already know, “You know, she is your best friend”, as a quick way to give the audience context. A lot of the context being clarified isn’t even necessary - we either know that information through context clues, or it’s not thematically or emotionally relevant.
Building on this, I am frustrated that the script often veers around complexity and nuance in favour of quick resolution. The intersection of Christian faith and queer identity is about as wriggly and layered as any subject can get. In my experience, every Christian person I know, both queer and otherwise, has a different and unique relationship with this. There’s a spectrum that ranges from deeply internalised guilt, to somewhat affable everything’s-a-sin-don’t-worry-about-it dismissal, to the choice to fully reject those sections of the bible and focus on the principles of Christ himself.
While the characters of Sing me the Sweetest Songs are spotted along this spectrum, the play tends to skim over the surface of this discussion. The closest we get to a meaningful exploration of it is at the end, when a character coming out as non-binary opens up about their fear of god. Discussion pivots to the famous verse from Leviticus - “You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; it is an abomination” and the fact that it’s been historically mistranslated, with understanding that the original intent was referring to men laying with boys, and therefore condemning paedophilia. It’s an interesting point, and one that would definitely come up at a bible camp. Frustratingly, this is where the discussion ends. I find this an incredibly surface level perspective on the subject. I understand that these characters are teenagers, but that’s not an excuse for the play to avoid actually confronting the subject. Teenagers are smart, and one of the beauties of art is that it can go deeper than we can in real life.
There are dozens, if not hundreds, of bible quotes, especially from Old Testament books like Leviticus, that are evidently not applicable to modern life. Let’s take Deuteronomy 22:21 for example, “then they shall bring out the damsel to the door of her father’s house, and the men of her city shall stone her with stones that she die…” “ ...to play the whore in her father’s house; so shalt thou put evil away from among you.” The idea that we can um-actually a single bible verse to prove a wider point about acceptance is pretty hollow when we view it with this in mind. This is why this is such an interesting subject, and why people have such wildly different ways of dealing with it. In the director’s note, Eastwood describes a desire to “create space to hold these nuanced conversations”, so evidently the show wants to go there. I really want it to, too. Let’s see the version of this show where characters interrogate and challenge one another. Where they pull this apart from all sides. There are contemporary and fascinating trans readings of the bible, which could be added to the mix, the sky is the limit!
This is all made worse by the fact that after the discussion on the Leviticus verse finishes, one of the characters immediately undercuts the whole conversation by stating that they aren’t fully convinced on God anyway. For drama to work, we need to feel that characters' opinions matter to them. If they don’t care, why should we? There is a character in the play, Mary (Ophelia Muller), who is ostensibly more devout than the others and is pursuing further theological training. She is an opportunity to find so much depth and diversity of opinion in this text, and instead ends up having remarkably similar perspectives to those around her.
My fear, is that there’s a belief that to go deeper, and have it’s characters be thornier, would make the coming-of-age sections of Sing me the Sweetest Songs less successful. I fully believe the opposite. The wholesome moments would feel much warmer, if they came in the face of genuine, complex, disagreement. If these conversations weren’t a thin coat being painted over a series of quickly resolved coming of age conflicts. All of these issues, from agony over leaving a relationship, to choosing not to follow your parent's wishes and leave the country, become more interesting when the complexities of faith are woven into their fabric.
Slow Dancers.
Here we have the show’s song list. Upon discovering this before the play starts, my expectations shoot through the roof. What a playlist! Credits to Wallflower, getting APRA clearance for this must have been a nightmare.
I’m really torn about how these songs are integrated into the work. On the positive side, they feel reflective of the music these characters would be listening to, and we communicate through sharing songs we like. I find myself imagining characters listening to these songs and singing them to themselves to process their emotions. On the negative side, it’s often jarring, and can feel a little like the team wanted an excuse to include a bunch of great songs in their show. This is understandable. I have spent my entire career trying to work Mitski into a play. Eastwood bet me to it.
Some of the numbers are lip-synced, and some are sung live. The lip-synced numbers are aping drag. The sheer energy the team bring to their movement is astounding. Whenever a song starts playing the song becomes electric and comes alive. They’re all great dancers, and these are the sections of the play that best capture the excitement and intensity of being a teenager. Sophie Helm is the standout here, their dance to Chappell Roan’s Good Luck, Babe! has them flinging themselves around the room with spectacular resolve.
As I’ve mentioned, the sung numbers are aided by incredible harmonies. The performance of Mitski’s Two Slow Dancers is stunning. This is probably a nitpick, but as someone who has obsessively poured over the lyrics to Two Slow Dancers I find the idea of a song about two lovers who’d “done it all a hundred times before” and to whom things would be a “hundred times easier if they were young again” being performed by eighteen-year-olds a little redundant. I get that one of the other verses slots in beautifully, but it’s an awkward fit otherwise.
The show struggles to end, perhaps out of desire to squeeze a (impeccable) performance of Stella Donnelly’s Beware of the Dogs into the resolution. This leaves me wondering if there’s room for the show to go further in the jukebox musical direction? Otherwise, Wallflower could pull back and find other ways in the text to illuminate the feelings of these sections. Currently it feels stuck somewhere in between two versions of itself.
Leaving Camp.
As a coming of age story about a group of friends, Sing me the Sweetest Songs needs more. It needs specificity in character and performance, in opinion and in vocabulary. It needs surprises, to trust us more as an audience and let moments happen without them being excessively telegraphed. What it doesn’t need any more of, is heart.
The kindness this play has for its characters is reassuring. I feel confident in suggesting that it sharpen it’s edges because I can’t imagine it doing so at the expense of its characters. Knowing so many queer people in my life who have been caught between the religious world and the secular one, it’s reassuring to see a show that is determined to hold a mirror up to them. The play deals with trans identity in a heartfelt and compassionate way, and has some intimate and profound descriptions given by its characters of their journeys with gender. I really want more from this play, and I hope I get to see it further realised. For the time being, it exists as a work of immense promise, a testament to how passion can translate onto the stage, and the first in the running for the inaugural Best Programme Award.
Sing me the Sweetest Songs is still on at BATS. You can get tickets here.
Here we have the show’s song list. Upon discovering this before the play starts, my expectations shoot through the roof. What a playlist! Credits to Wallflower, getting APRA clearance for this must have been a nightmare.
I’m really torn about how these songs are integrated into the work. On the positive side, they feel reflective of the music these characters would be listening to, and we communicate through sharing songs we like. I find myself imagining characters listening to these songs and singing them to themselves to process their emotions. On the negative side, it’s often jarring, and can feel a little like the team wanted an excuse to include a bunch of great songs in their show. This is understandable. I have spent my entire career trying to work Mitski into a play. Eastwood bet me to it.
Some of the numbers are lip-synced, and some are sung live. The lip-synced numbers are aping drag. The sheer energy the team bring to their movement is astounding. Whenever a song starts playing the song becomes electric and comes alive. They’re all great dancers, and these are the sections of the play that best capture the excitement and intensity of being a teenager. Sophie Helm is the standout here, their dance to Chappell Roan’s Good Luck, Babe! has them flinging themselves around the room with spectacular resolve.
As I’ve mentioned, the sung numbers are aided by incredible harmonies. The performance of Mitski’s Two Slow Dancers is stunning. This is probably a nitpick, but as someone who has obsessively poured over the lyrics to Two Slow Dancers I find the idea of a song about two lovers who’d “done it all a hundred times before” and to whom things would be a “hundred times easier if they were young again” being performed by eighteen-year-olds a little redundant. I get that one of the other verses slots in beautifully, but it’s an awkward fit otherwise.
The show struggles to end, perhaps out of desire to squeeze a (impeccable) performance of Stella Donnelly’s Beware of the Dogs into the resolution. This leaves me wondering if there’s room for the show to go further in the jukebox musical direction? Otherwise, Wallflower could pull back and find other ways in the text to illuminate the feelings of these sections. Currently it feels stuck somewhere in between two versions of itself.
Leaving Camp.
As a coming of age story about a group of friends, Sing me the Sweetest Songs needs more. It needs specificity in character and performance, in opinion and in vocabulary. It needs surprises, to trust us more as an audience and let moments happen without them being excessively telegraphed. What it doesn’t need any more of, is heart.
The kindness this play has for its characters is reassuring. I feel confident in suggesting that it sharpen it’s edges because I can’t imagine it doing so at the expense of its characters. Knowing so many queer people in my life who have been caught between the religious world and the secular one, it’s reassuring to see a show that is determined to hold a mirror up to them. The play deals with trans identity in a heartfelt and compassionate way, and has some intimate and profound descriptions given by its characters of their journeys with gender. I really want more from this play, and I hope I get to see it further realised. For the time being, it exists as a work of immense promise, a testament to how passion can translate onto the stage, and the first in the running for the inaugural Best Programme Award.
Sing me the Sweetest Songs is still on at BATS. You can get tickets here.