Review: Sunday in the Park with George – Bit by bit

A blend of painted and performed art, MUSE manages to rub its stomach and pat its head.

What happens when you combine painted and performed art? You’d imagine acrylic paints smeared across a scuffed theatre stage. However, MUSE’s production of Sunday in the Park with George managed to create a beautifully synthesised love letter to both. Directed by Hannah Burton, with musical direction and conducting by Daniel Baykitch, and vocal direction by Osibi Akerejola and India Wilson, it was just another example of MUSE punching way above its weight as a student performance society.

Nic Savage and Hannah Stewart, in their roles of George and Dot respectively, were the heart and soul of the production. Nic Savage presented George with an intensity and fervour that arrested the viewer — embodying the archetypical obsessive artiste. Hannah Stewart’s Dot matched Savage’s power and presence beat for beat — checking George’s self-destructive mania with pleading empathy and, eventually, some necessary self-preservation. Scenes and songs between these two electrified the stage and delighted the audience, with both Savage and Stewart doing justice to the lyrics and script in equal measures of vigour. 

George and Dot would be nothing without the park and its curious inhabitants. Luckily, the supporting cast did not fail to amaze. 

Kris Sergi’s Old Lady and Tali Greenfield’s Nurse were a classic comedy duo, one long complaining and the other long suffering. It’s a pairing as old as time and Sergi and Greenfield’s chemistry made it a joy to behold. 

Mining a similar humour, Jules and Yvonne, hysterically brought to life by Declan Dowling and Maddie Maronese, were the picture of snobbish old guard critique. Their jaunts across the stage were reminiscent of the chiding smears bandied about by Ebert and Siskel, Margaret and David, and Statler and Waldorf — so they’re in esteemed company. Particular mention must be made of Declan Dowling’s booming condescension, which carried a clarity and resonance that could almost cut — his presence on stage made my heart sing and his serenade made it soar. 

With more giggling and less guffawing, the Celestes, the Soldier, and his “friend” were another unit of amusing action. Like a double date gone wrong, Eleanor Fair, Isabella Habib, and Marc Aloi (as well as the helmet on the end of his gun that acted as the fourth and final member of this cozy quad-couple), weaved a youthful and unhinged diversion into all of their scenes. 

The remainder of the supporting cast were vital splashes on the canvas as well. Claire Trussel’s Louise was delightfully childish. Alex Paterson and Kate Ecob, as Franz and Freida, were a refreshing blast of faux German in a sea of neutral accents. Will Kilgour as reliable Louis was a suitable foil to George’s discordant antics, and Kilgour was nothing but smiles and charm. Simon Buchne’s Boatman was, at times, legitimately frightening. Finally, Dennis, played by Eddie Langford, was a joyous nerd and Langford imbued him with an earnest dweebishness. 

Then, Act II gave almost everyone a chance to shine again, with new characters and new dynamics testing the acting chops of the whole cast. They passed with flying colours!

While the individual performances were noteworthy, Sunday in the Park with George was at its best during those pivotal moments of ensemble indulgence. ‘Sunday’ and ‘Sunday (Reprise)’ were both highlights, showcasing George’s artistic process and his manipulation of the scene. It was a genuine pleasure to see George Seurat’s iconic ‘A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte’ come to life in real time. Nic Savage’s performance of perfectionism sold the minute adjustments and subtle subtractions. As the chorus rose and the scene progressed, the audience, myself included, were given the most compelling insight into the work and will of George. Not only did he create art, he lived it. 

Director Hannah Burton and Assistant Director Bradley Eldridgemust be applauded for extracting dazzling performances out of this talented cast. Not to be outdone, Vocal Directors Osibi Akerejola & India Wilson should be given heaping praise as well, for the outstanding vocal performances of the entire cast and great vocal blend.

Behind the stage, Music Director and Conductor Daniel Baykitch, with his excellent orchestra, brought the production to life with a drivingly eclectic score. At times, the score became part of George’s art as well. During George’s painting scenes, the music and pointillism painting were married, with every dot and poke having a resounding note of its own — accompanied by some abstract projection and lighting design, it made for a number of enjoyable sequences. Beyond the music itself, one of the simple pleasures of Sunday in the Park with George were the brief but recurring moments where orchestra and conductor were silhouetted for the audience’s appreciation. It was a punchy, yet subtle way of emphasising their immense musical contribution.

Apart from the positioning and screening of the orchestra, the staging was simple, yet compelling. The most memorable and frequent production element was that of the wooden canvas frame. Used to capture certain moments of ensemble, it was a good reminder of the painting that the musical takes inspiration and direction from: George Seurat’s iconic ‘A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte’. While at certain angles its framing was less than ideal, the principle and ethos of it remained a fascinating addition to the stage. 

With costuming operating as a sort of ersatz stage design, it’s a good thing that it was another masterful brushstroke on MUSE’s canvas. While period productions are always difficult to dress on a student society budget, most, if not all, of the outfits were authentic and fit for purpose.

The production effort of Co-Producers Jacob Lawler, Amelie Downie, and their team was the final varnish on what was an already superb musical.

It is often difficult not to glean meta meaning from a production about the artistic process. And so I won’t attempt to resist the temptation myself. Like ‘A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte’, this MUSE musical was made up of countless little dots. Score, orchestra, direction, performances, production design — even the delightful program: they all came together to create something magical. Remove one, and it all falls apart. Bit by bit, MUSE put it together, and boy did it show.