Theatre
Review
Review: The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry
Rachel Joyce’s book bursts onto the London stage with plenty to say about grief, age and the power of a good ramble
The collective warming of hearts going on at the Theatre Royal Haymarket will probably have saved the venue a significant amount on heating by the time The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry moves on. Rachel Joyce’s celebrated tale of resilience, self-discovery and connection has a new all-singing, all-dancing face, and it isn’t afraid to shine a light on life’s darkest corners – whilst reminding us that it’s never too late to learn something new about ourselves.
In Harold Fry, we have a hero both unlikely and wholly familiar. Mark Addy, impossible not to love as the titular character, is a stand-in for every individual who feels their life has run away from them, who doesn’t quite understand how the person in the mirror matches up with who they once were. His wife Maureen (the excellent Jenna Russell) is in a similar rut, blunted by grief and loneliness. Even before the reveal of a gutting loss in their past, we understand this couple – they are who we have all been or feared becoming, a domestic tragedy of the most ordinary proportions. When a letter arrives from an old friend, however, Harold is prompted out of his armchair and on his feet to walk to the post box – and then the next post box, and the next. Before he quite knows why he’s doing it, he’s on a journey from Devon to Berwick-upon-Tweed, traversing the great British countryside in a pair of boating shoes.
Samuel Wyer’s magical design brings the outdoors in, and under Katy Rudd’s imaginative direction the ensemble introduce Harold to sheep, horse riders, bonfires, cherry trees and plenty more pastoral enchantments. Behind it all swirls an ever-shifting oil painting (video design by Ash J Woodward), a whimsical window into Harold’s journey. Noah Mullins as the mysterious balladeer leads the cast through Passenger’s folk-inspired score, negotiating a total harmony between the show’s look and sound. More harps in West End musicals, please.
It’s not a subtle dance around grief and mortality, nor is it sharp or painful. What The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry wants to say more than anything is the path is always ready for rediscovery, if we’re willing to put one foot in front of the other until we reach our destination. Which is in this case, acceptance. And outer Scotland.
