Lovesong ****

Lovesong is the physical theatre company, Frantic Assembly’s latest venture in collaboration with writer Abi Morgan. Of course, an established playwright in her own right, but more notable for her work in film and tv, this has notably influenced the unique style of Lovesong.

Lovesong tells the story of one couple at the beginning and end of their lives together. This pure form is perhaps what makes it such a tearjerker, it takes just five minutes to fall in love with these lovers, which is important as you’ll be in tears within ten, floods by the end. The ushers even offer boxes of tissues after the show, due to popular demand, I was told. The formula is played with cleverly; the crossover between times is achieved seamlessly so that the characters seem like time travellers in this haunting exploration of memory. Of course, at the centre of this is Frantic Assembly’s gorgeous choreography. Everyday objects become triggers for this action; the actors emerge out of wardrobes or fridges sharing the same look of longing they hold for their lover with their younger counterpart.

The movement possess an entrancing fluidity. Refrains are used, the physical familiarity of lovers couldn’t be more apparent than in this choreography. I admit I shouldn’t have been surprised by the elder actors’ physical prowess, yet I feel they deserve an especial mention – perhaps they aren’t as sharp as the younger couple, but this ensemble wouldn’t leave the same impression without their rekindled energy working together with the younger couple’s. It lends a love which has grown old with the characters, a sense of eternal youth.

A production like this is dependent upon the marriage of movement and writing. But, Morgan achieves something altogether very different with silence. The silence is established from the beginning as being as vocal as any words which two people that know each other inside out could share. As a result, I feel the audience response is injected with something of them; we each hear something different in the silence.

It is an achievement to compel an audience to focus upon the little things like this, a quality I would relate more to film or television. Seemingly aware of this, the play opens with a projection of the title, almost like a title sequence. The play itself stands alone so well, I question the necessity of this device. The flight of the starling flock is a sweet metaphor, present throughout all the years they’ve lived there, and will remain after they’ve gone, almost like a child reminding us of their enduring sadness to have not had one. Yet I find it somewhat patronising that they feel the audience requires this visualisation aid, when we have sensibility enough to imagine the memories being recalled.

Otherwise, the production values work effortlessly with the play to create something which can only be described as beautiful. Their ‘lovesong’ is never heard in the absorbing soundtrack, remaining a private thing to them. Hensel’s design, a stage carpeted and coloured with leaves, could be used to greater effect, but focuses and binds their memories immortally to their garden. Graham and Hogget had a wonderfully lucid vision directing and choreographing this play which has been achieved with the craft of an artist, the brush strokes lingering in your mind’s eyes, long after you’ve dried your eyes.