The best way to think of the eagerly awaited world premiere of Local Hero, adapted for the stage by David Greig and Bill Forsyth in a co-production between the Lyceum and the Old Vic, is to liken it to a campfire: from a slow beginning, it sparks into life, glows from the heart, dances in the dark and sings. Warming all who shelter from the storm.

The film passed me by, much like the offstage motorbike which in a running gag zips back and forth like a fly fisherman’s cast. But the play hit home. And home – laying down roots; building a community; searching for and establishing a connection in the here and now – lies at the heart of this hugely enjoyable production directed with subtlety and wit by John Crowley (Brooklyn).

The challenge of staging what old-timer Ben (Julian Forsyth) calls “paradise” – where the beauty of the aurora borealis meets the unfathomable depths of the sea – is ably accomplished by the three-time Tony Award-winning designer Scott Pask through bold yet simple means.

Above, a moon-shaped projection screen which gradually lowers and tilts to fill the sky with a star-studded panorama of hopes and dreams, aches and yearnings; to the left, a model village aglow with contentment; to the right, the iconic red telephone box which enigmatically rings; beyond all of which stands an industrial silo which opens its smoky Stars In Your Eyes doors to reveal (Tonight, Matthew I’m going to be…) “God”.

The score, too, is deceptively simple, with music and lyrics by Mark Knopfler under the direction of Phil Bateman. In place of showstoppers, razzmatazz and schmaltz are a series of character-driven songs in various styles (from John McLarnon’s cool-as-a-cat crooning to the Company’s hungover blues) which propel the plot, move and amuse.

With Katrina Bryan in soulful voice as the restless Stella, Damian Humbley impressive as the lonely oil executive Mac for whom “home is a place away from home” and Matthew Pidgeon endearingly clownish as the jack-of-all-trades Gordon.

But, the beating heart of the play is old-timer Ben, played with great wisdom and gravitas by Forsyth, who stands alone in refusing to sell his share of the land from the dunes to the tide. “You can’t put a price on paradise,” he says. To which the “hired gun” Mac asks, “How can you bargain with a man who wants nothing?”

Greig and Forsyth obviously side with Ben, but the flip side of the coin is voiced through the concerns of villagers (“You can’t eat scenery!”) who trade one-liners faster than spivs sell shares. “Just a white wine, Gordon. I’m off the booze.” Not to be outdone by: “What’s for breakfast?” “Paracetamol.” Though perhaps the biggest laugh of the night comes from Wendy Somerville’s tight-lipped Mistress Fraser who when asked whose baby she is caring for – shrugs.

Reminding us that we’re all Jock Tamson’s bairns!

Peter Callaghan
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