8 hours ago
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Aw, shucks. There’s plenty to love about this US import, a country musical with a zany corn obsession and a message about breaking down barriers that suits this open air theatre. But just how much corn-fed wordplay can you stomach? You’ll soon find out. There’s a maze of maize jokes, some kernels of truth amid the cornball sentiment, a husk of a plot about a corn doctor mistakenly assumed to treat ears not feet and a few painful gags about cornholes. The actors essentially double as standups, delivering one-liners that are often very funny and occasionally enhance character and story but are mostly fired at random as if punslinger Tim Vine had been cloned and let loose.
We’re in Cob County where Maizy (I’m afraid so) is about to wed Beau. When the small town’s valuable corn crop fails, she journeys to Tampa, Florida, for answers and meets conman Gordy who has two dubious claims – one on her heart and one that he can save the beleaguered town. A handsome design includes costumes by Tilly Grimes (dungarees, neckerchiefs, denim), golden lighting by Japhy Weideman and a stage bookended by cornfield thickets and circled by glowing purple rocks. Scott Pask’s set features a huge barn, its rafters broken and exposed to the elements, the whole building slanting as if about to be uprooted by The Wizard of Oz’s tornado.
But it’s Brandy Clark and Shane McAnally’s songs that often blow you away: hoedowns, lonesome ballads, stagecoach rhythms, loud and proud show tunes, with a five-piece band heavy on the guitars and giving a percussive boost to the humour. Sarah O’Gleby’s choreography slowly builds up steam, with performers eventually walking on whiskey barrels and mixing hand claps with foot slaps.
Georgina Onuorah thoroughly takes possession of Independently Owned, an anthem of self-determination – no mean feat as it is so closely linked with Alex Newell who won a Tony award in the same role as whiskey-making Lulu. When Ben Joyce (Beau) sings a solo called OK you half want him to do a full country set himself while Sophie McShera makes a yearning case for a world of windows not walls in Maizy’s solo. Matthew Seadon-Young has fun with a jazzy number about Gordy’s bid to be badder. Under Katy Richardson’s musical direction, many shades and themes of country music are present yet the lyrics sometimes lack the genre’s reputation for storytelling.
The show is moved along by two storytellers, a little like the Mean Girls musical, with Monique Ashe-Palmer and Steven Webb sharing a nice rapport. With a book by Robert Horn, it’s presented as a fable, not as you may first think about climate catastrophe but about loving neighbours and welcoming strangers, respecting home yet not being afraid to roam.
But when even the thinly drawn characters express alarm at the words they’re saying, it’s hard to invest in the relationships. Comedies tend to have one wise-cracking role like the goofy Peanut (Keith Ramsay), but here everyone shares the compulsion to deliver bon mots, lollipop stick jokes and small-town homespun humour. It’s ultimately exhausting and not only flattens character but reduces dialogue to the same pattern of setup, pause and punchline (many of which you see coming), slowing down Jack O’Brien’s rambling production.
Would it help if you were familiar with Hee Haw, the country music variety TV show to which it pays homage? Perhaps. But across town, Mischief Theatre are unleashing their own barrage of groansome gags in The Comedy About Spies, a dizzily ridiculous farce which ambushes audiences on many levels, including making you sympathetic towards the unlikeliest characters. Shucked really wants you to laugh and care but to do that would require separating the wheat from the chaff.
