When I first heard that Trinity Musical Theatre (TMT) had chosen Spring Awakening as this year’s production, I knew nothing of the show. When considering whether or not I wanted to audition, I lazily flicked through the soundtrack, skimmed a synopsis, and decided it wasn’t for me. There are very few instances that come to my mind where I have been more wrong.
That night in the O’Reilly theatre I was more captivated by the talent of my peers than ever before, and I began to understand what I had missed. Director Juliet Hill’s vision and its execution by every member of the cast and crew awakened something at the heart of its material, the context in which they staged it, and in their audience.
For those unfamiliar, Spring Awakening is a 2006 musical by Steven Sater and Duncan Sheik based on an 1890s German Play by Frank Wedekind. It tells the story of teens at their coming of age in a society whose repression jeopardises them as they try to come to terms with their sexual awakening that adult authority would much rather sweep under the rug. Spring Awakening is a show that swings between joy and grief, laughter and tears, and everything experienced in between in the whirlwind that is adolescence. For TMT’s production, 1890s Germany was replaced with 1930s Ireland, one of those rare creative choices so effective it seems obvious in hindsight.
To list every moment where I realised the talent on display on this stage would fill the entire broadsheet; this cast shines on stage to the point that I heard other audience members picking out ensemble members they felt stole moments in the show.
The show is superbly led by Séan Hughes and Molly Terrins in their respective roles of Melchior, the self-styled intellectual rebel, and Wendla, the curious teenage girl who laments the ignorance of the world her upbringing traps her in. Hughes makes a sharp TMT debut, embodying the frustration not only of his character but that which many of us and those before have felt against the systems that keep us down from “All that’s known”, to the end of the show. Meanwhile, Terrins had the audience in the palm of her hand from the moment the curtain was drawn, opening the show with her rendition of “Mama Who Bore Me”, which undoubtedly left many women in the audience reminded of themselves at the life stage she portrayed.
The supporting cast are stars in their own right as well, with many a capable lead enriching the performances on stage. As the tertiary protagonist Moritz, Isaac Casey expertly walked the fine line between comic relief and the tortured emotional heart of the stage, with his rendition of “Bitch of Living” being a highlight of the show. If you are ever anything less than blown away watching Aoife McCormack and Emma-Jane Nanetti perform I frankly do not care to know you; they form a supporting cast that can stand alongside the lead roles. In a show filled with tragedy, Anthony Daly and Phillip Walshe’s Hancschen and Ernst provide a much needed breather as they write their own story with laughs, heart, and hope for a happy ending for some. Eoin Daly and Sarah Webb jump seemingly effortlessly between all the adult roles in the show; and if I ever heard such a technically proficient and resonant voice like Daly’s anywhere other than a theatre I would think its owner missed their calling.
The talent harnessed on stage cannot be acknowledged without due credit to the production team. Hayden Kline’s vocal direction and Grace Skowronski’s choreography shone throughout the evening, all underpinned by the band led by Musical Director Sarah Doherty, not to mention the staging, set, and costumes (credit to Isabella Jippov, Em Kelleher, and Shona McFadyen respectively, and everyone else on the crew).
Every one of these elements allow the show to succeed. If you only look above the surface, Spring Awakening may seem like just a messy mashup of sexually charged humour and shocking tragedy, but this production succeeds masterfully in pulling you in to look deeper than only the shock value of the show, to understand that while it is very explicit theatre, it serves a purpose. I’m certainly no stranger to tears in theatre but I found myself experiencing more emotion in the O’Reilly theatre that night than any other I have been in.
When I was thinking to myself after the show and for this review, I wondered if I might be giving it too much credit for the depth of emotions I felt. Were the tears purely for the show and the performances, or were they from seeing my friends and people walk past every day in college go through the painful experiences of the characters? But then I realised that this is exactly the point, and the power of a student production in particular.
It lends to the power of the show and the meaning in the Director’s choice to move the setting to Ireland in the 1930s. While the show is certainly dramatic, its tragedy is all too familiar. The anguish, confusion, ill-informed mistakes, the overbearing oppressive control, the complicit silence, the abuse, all of it happened here, across the country, to far too many people, and sadly still does to many around the world.
Due to what could seem like a simple choice of setting, I watched people I knew talk like anyone I could know, and I saw not only their pain but the pain of many more. I couldn’t help but think of my father who attended a Christian Brothers school in Limerick City, who remembers the day corporal punishment was outlawed in Irish schools; of the friends that became outcasts from their families for their sexuality; of the dozens of stories of abuse and assault my peers have entrusted with me with — and the hundreds that they have not. We have come so far, but we still have a long way to go.
While the protagonists of Spring Awakening aren’t without their flaws, the ultimate blame lays with their parents and the oppressive society that, as the show tells you in the opening lines “gave [them] no way to handle things”. Spring Awakening is a call to action, the original play’s publishing at the turn of the 20th century was an act of rebellion, and the play was often censored. As we still fight for improved sex education and accommodation of adolescent identity, the show’s motif that “all shall know” still represents the north star by which the youth may be freed from repression, culminating in the closing number “The Song of Purple Summer” where the cast stands together in defiance of the system that facilitated their tragedy, and tears dogmatic pages in half.
Ultimately, it is a show we can all see ourselves in as we seek to understand our ever more confusing lives. In his last happy moments before tragedy intervenes in his fate, Moritz declares that “truly heaven must feel like this”. I don’t know what heaven feels like, and indeed the show reminds us to be cautious of authorities that claim to have such knowledge; but as I walked back home, processing the cocktail of smiles, laughter, tears, anger, confusion, and resolve, I did know one thing — truly, life must feel like this. TMT, thank you so much.
