The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry in the West End – review
- Christopher Harding
- 30 minutes ago
- 4 min read
Rachel Joyce and Passenger’s new musical, directed by Katy Rudd, has arrived at Theatre Royal Haymarket
A question has bugged me since the reviews for the Hamnet film were published last year: what does it mean for a piece of art to be emotionally “manipulative”? It’s often bunged out as a pejorative, a way to shield ourselves from the indignity of being moved by a script. You’d almost think it a mechanical process: pull this lever for a sob, push that button for a lump in the throat.
Yet, this musical version of The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry, adapted by Rachel Joyce from her own celebrated novel about a man who spontaneously decides to walk the length of the country in order to right a series of wrongs, manages to bring on the tears without ever truly feeling like manipulation. It is a show bubbling with grief, hope, love, and music. Joyce’s writing has always possessed a particular groundedness; even at its most moving, it never feels overly saccharine.
Part of the reason it works so well is the man at the heart of it all is Mark Addy. While many will be familiar with Jim Broadbent’s turn in the film iteration, Addy brings a different, perhaps more rough-and-ready, texture to the role. He rarely leaves the stage, an exhausting feat that mirrors Harold’s own 600-mile trek from Kingsbridge to Berwick-upon-Tweed. Addy captures all of Harold’s journeys – physical, geographical, emotional, psychological, and philosophical – with an immense sense of skill and tempered restraint.
He is a man of few words for much of the play, but it is in the cheery silence that Addy does his best work. It is only at the very finish, eyes tired yet choked full of sadness, that you truly see the toll. It isn’t just the blisters or the dehydration; it’s the cumulative weight of 20 years of anguish-strewn life finally catching up to him. It is a performance of quiet devastation.
The production is bolstered by what can only be described as a series of secret weapons. The first is the utterly sublime Jenna Russell as Maureen Fry. While Harold walks, Maureen waits – yet her journey is no less arduous. She is on a pilgrimage of her own, contending with a house that is too empty and a past that feels too present.
The spectral presence of Noah Mullins‘ Balladeer provides the lyrical backbone to proceedings, while designer Samuel Wyer kits out the ensemble like shepherds from some rustic As You Like It production.
Then there is scene-stealer Peter Polycarpou as the neighbour Rex: known to many for his musical theatre pedigree, he is cast here in a non-musical role, which makes his contribution all the more startling (I’ve never seen a man hang up a phone call with such comedic verve). Not all about the gags, he also delivers one of the most powerful monologues in the entire show, a moment of raw, stripped-back humanity as he grapples with his own understanding of loss.
The production of The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry features a rich array of tunes supplied by Passenger (of “Let Her Go” fame). They are easy on the ear – catchy and buoyant. As Harold moves through the landscape, the quirky coterie of characters he encounters (each with their own number) brings to life a Britain that is full of joy, fear, defiance, and misunderstanding.
The inclusion of eccentric, modern jokes – such as the appearance of a Pizza Pilgrims delivery driver supporting the actual pilgrim – prevents the show from descending into a dirge. You also can’t really go wrong with a dog on stage, but puppeteer Timo Tatzber ably bolsters the cuteness factor.
In lesser hands, the material would have felt repetitive or cyclical, but director Katy Rudd is once again on magnificent form. Established as one of the best ensemble directors in the business with the five-star Ballet Shoes or Ocean at the End of the Lane, Rudd uses sparse sets and the physical language of the ensemble to create a threadbare tapestry of Harold’s distorted vision of the world.
Rudd’s direction leans into the whimsy of the road while never shying away from the fear that haunts Harold’s footsteps. The way the ensemble shifts from being the wind in the trees to the judgmental men in a café is perfect. There’s also comedy there too – a number involving dancing car wash is excellent, while there’s some perfectly pitched contributions from lighting designer Paule Constable and video designer Ash J Woodward.
The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry is a rare beast: a musical that asks you to feel deeply without ever making you feel foolish for doing so. It has lost none of its power from its initial spell within the more intimate confines of the Minerva Theatre. By the time the final number starts, you aren’t just crying because the show told you to; you’re crying because you’ve seen so many facets of a couple, burdened by decades of mourning, finally able to let it go..
