Theatre

Amelie: The Musical

King’s Theatre, Edinburgh

Four stars

At King’s Theatre, Glasgow,

August 19-24

Curious Shoes

Byre Theatre, St Andrews

Five stars

Touring until July 6

Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s delightful 2001 film Amelie is, paradoxically, both an obvious and an unlikely choice for adaptation as a stage musical. It is obvious because its eponymous central character (played in the movie by the wonderful Audrey Tautou) is so endearing and iconic, its narrative so boldly engaging, that it lends itself readily to the colourful ultra-naturalism of musical theatre.

However, it is also unlikely. Both Jeunet’s gloriously fantastical cinematic method (he is also the director behind the superb 1991 film Delicatessen) and composer Yann Tiersen’s beautiful musical score are very hard acts to follow.

In truth, director Michael Fentiman’s touring production (book by Craig Lucas, music by Daniel Messe, lyrics by Nathan Tysen and Messe) cannot quite match the pleasures of the film, either visually or musically, but it has a lot of fun trying. If it succeeds as a theatre work (and it does succeed), this is down, in very large measure, to its capturing the quintessential, beguiling quirkiness of its protagonist, Amelie Poulain.

The character (a childlike, unusually empathetic, gloriously imaginative, young, Parisian woman) requires an actor of very particular sensibilities. If Jeunet was blessed to have Tautou, Fentiman is fortunate, indeed, to have Quebecoise actor Audrey Brisson.

Raised in Montreal by parents who were members of the famous new circus company Cirque de Soleil, Brisson has both the charm and the physical skill to embody this most idiosyncratic of characters. From her matter-of-fact narrating of the tale of the death of her unloving and didactic mother (killed beneath Notre-Dame Cathedral by the falling body of a suicide from Quebec) to her instantaneous falling in love with the eccentric Nino Quincampoix (Danny Mac on seductively innocent form), the actor has the irresistible measure of her role.

Brisson is joined by a multi-talented cast of actor-musician-singers who swirl around her on designer Madeleine Girling’s lovely, quintessentially Parisian, art deco set (which, somehow, manages to encompass a Metro station, the cafe where Amelie works and our heroine’s apartment, among other places). Messe’s music doesn’t make the mistake of trying parody Tiersen’s gorgeous film score, and succeeds in being enjoyable, whilst rarely being memorable (or, save for the occasional appearance of an accordion, particularly French).

There is charm, and music, aplenty in Curious Shoes, an enchanting and highly accomplished piece for people living with dementia (that is to say, those who have the condition and their loved ones and carers). Created by Magdalena Schamberger, an Edinburgh-based theatre practitioner and teacher who specialises in making work for this particular audience, it is a deceptively simple, extremely clever and very touching piece of live drama.

Through her 18 years of dedicated work in this field, Schamberger discovered that people in the advanced stages of dementia often sit curled up and looking at the floor. Consequently, they tend to encounter people for the first time through their shoes.

She discovered that when people were wearing particularly colourful or unusual shoes, the person with dementia would suddenly become more interested. Hence, Curious Shoes, a delightful piece in which a quartet of charmingly, and nostalgically, costumed characters (played by fine actor-musicians, and creative collaborators on the show, Tim Licata, Christina Liddell, Nicolette Macleod and Colin Moncrieff) are attempting to go on holiday.

As they do so, they mix gently with their audience (who sit at cabaret-style tables, and each of whom has been provided with a name badge), sharing objects of personal significance from boxes that emerge from the present and the past. These props are (like the characters’ shoes, of course) splendidly interesting.

The performances and the simple-yet-captivating narrative owe discernible debts to the works of Charlie Chaplin and Samuel Beckett. The gratifyingly timeless, live music and song combine with gentle slapstick, while one character (Charlie, played winningly by Licata) repeatedly announces (like one of Beckett’s tramps in Waiting for Godot) “let’s go!” (yet they stay).

Unlike the down-at-heel philosophers of Beckett’s opus, our four friends do, finally, set off, but not before they have invited us on-stage for one last dance.

For tour dates for Curious Shoes, visit: magdalenaschamberger.com