Alan Doyle, the iconic frontman of the Newfoundland folk band Great Big Sea, didn’t need to sing one line to make it clear that he’d be the most beloved part of Tell Tale Harbour at Mirvish’s Royal Alexandra Theatre. At the opening matinee, I squeezed through the entryway packed with merch, including Doyle’s books and hoodies emblazoned with his name, and when the stage lights began to rise on the happy-go-lucky performer centre-stage, the audience could barely contain their Canadian kindness. They were so eager to break into a clap-along that their gasps and cheers muffled the establishing lyrics.
As a well-known musician with a number of acting credits — and co-writer of Tell Tale Harbour’s script and tunes, which span poppy jigs, folksy legion anthems, and nods to power ballads — Doyle was a natural fit for the leading role. Sometimes I’m skeptical of shows with big marquee names. The hype can overshadow the merit of the production, and the audience’s awe at the star power can risk eclipsing the real craft of that actor’s performance and the other talent on stage. But Doyle maintained authentic joyfulness from that first moment to the last, with comedic timing that’s bright as his brassy voice, as well as the right degree of tenderness for heartfelt moments.
Adapted from the 2013 film The Grand Seduction, the musical is set in the small, fictional town of Tell Tale Harbour, Newfoundland, a struggling but proud fishing village. The curtains open on a bubbly ensemble number about the joys of payday performed in the town’s fish processing plant. Within minutes we discover that all the ebullient fun the employees’ cash affords — namely pints at the legion — could vanish, as only one plant of four in the area will survive. And it won’t be a fishing plant; it will be renovated into a frozen French fry factory. While it goes unexplained why it can’t continue operating as a fish plant, there’s a light insinuation that traditions are changing with commercialization. Cod, a longstanding lifeline for Atlantic Canada, is giving way to a fast food staple.
For the town’s plant to be chosen for repurposing, it must prove there’s a surrounding population of 3,000 people and a resident doctor to support them. Cue Frank (played by Doyle), a charming schemer and unofficial community leader. He hatches a plan for the town to convince a visiting British doctor that their harbour is a bastion of Britishness, a place where Dr. Chris (played by Kale Penny) could find familiar comfort in warm beers and cricket bats.
Perhaps the good doctor could even discover love in the smart and single Kathleen (played by Melissa MacKenzie), Frank’s niece who runs the catchall outpost. Everyone faithfully follows Frank’s frivolous plan without a lick of hesitation or worry about what their futures might hold.
From there on out, the pleasure of the show is less plot mechanics, more comedic antics. The townspeople trip over themselves trying to impress the doctor — save for Kathleen, who keeps her heart guarded. We eventually learn that she moved back to Newfoundland from Toronto to care for her dying mother and that her boyfriend didn’t follow, but aside from this reveal, the show doesn’t mine much psychological or emotional depth. Yet, what it lacks in dynamic, dramatic exploration it more than makes up for in a steady stream of relatable Canadian humour, peaking in a slapstick scene where Frank and the others plant a frozen fish for Dr. Chris to catch in the bay.
In their romantic scenes, Penny and MacKenzie share an easy chemistry, shown most in pretty, precisely harmonized duets sung under a velvety sky and a plump stage moon (set design by Michael Gianfrancesco). The rest of the ensemble keep the energy high, but most of their personalities remain unseen. That said, actors Susan Henley and Laurie Murdoch, playing couple Vera and Yvon, stood out for their sharp comedic timing and supplied some of the biggest laughs.
I’m far from the only reviewer to find it hard to watch Tell Tale Harbour without hearing the tide of another East Coast musical, Come From Away. The two shows share DNA. Bob Foster was the co-writer and music director for this production of Tell Tale Harbour, and the music director for the original Mirvish run of Come From Away. And there are other overlaps. Each show celebrates the quirky can-do attitudes of a Newfoundland community coming together to face a real-world problem. In Come From Away, that problem was the 7,000 passengers stranded in a small town shrouded in panic and uncertainty during 9/11, and in Tell Tale Harbour the problem is the potential economic downfall of a community with a side of poor access to modern medicine.
I loved Come From Away for how well it balanced bright humour with quick turns to confronting loss and uncertainty; the force of its ensemble cast; and its ability to transform the real town of Gander, Newfoundland into a lively character. Tell Tale Harbour is markedly different from its cousin. It similarly nails the East Coast Canadian humour, but it doesn’t fill the capacious shoes of its predecessor. First, its stakes are muted. They’re implied, but we don’t see exactly how the town might crumble without the plant, nor do we feel its characters fear the possibility. Second, its side characters are underdeveloped in service of the star-vehicle structure. Without information about the ensemble’s backstories, the fictitious town feels more like a small-town template than one with a clear identity made up of many idiosyncratic voices.
Still, the musical makes good on spinning a yarn as warm as a mug-up with music as catchy as a fiddle reel. The asides are wry, the slapstick is generous, and the hearts are big. In one of the first numbers, Frank sings, “There’s no foot in the grave that a shanty can’t save,” and by the finale, his prophecy comes to fruition. Without spoiling too much, audiences will leave with toothy grin, having been transported to a place where friendliness weaves miracles.
Tell Tale Harbour runs at the Royal Alexandra Theatre until November 2. More information is available here.
Intermission reviews are independent and unrelated to Intermission’s partnered content. Learn more about Intermission’s partnership model here.
WRITTEN BY
Lindsey King
Lindsey King is a Toronto-based freelance writer and editor with bylines in Toronto Life, Maclean’s, Canadian Business, Intermission, and The Creative Independent.
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