MOBY: A Whale of a Tale: "a ship that is lined with whale teeth will never sink." Nor will a musical with heart

22- Sep 2021 - photo credit : Raiza Dela Pena

While searching for the sitcom in which an attempted Broadway version Moby Dick is a running gag, I discovered that there have actually been at least three theatrical musicals, of varying degrees of critical and commercial success, based on Herman Melville's novel. Now there are four. 

Pirate Life Theatre uses a functioning pirate ship as a stage and their bread and butter is children's shows and birthday parties (of all ages) on the high seas of Lake Ontario. As their crew consists of theatre artists, they branch out to create ambitious productions like Pippi: The Strongest Girl in the World and Flooded. With the pandemic not yet squashed, MOBY: A Whale of a Tale has seating on the quay while the ship becomes a literal proscenium with a sail doubling as a rising curtain. But the effect of being at sea frequently, vividly, suffuses the setting. When the breeze rises off the water and the sound of the waves blends with the catchy tunes, MOBY: A Whale of a Tale is transporting. 

Moby Dick, the novel, is a massive tome dating from 1851. In 2021 views on whaling have changed and this adaptation struggles to match the content to the prevailing tide. Creators Annie Tuma (Molly Bloom, Turtleneck, Pippi) and Lena Maripuu (Molly Bloom, Peter Pan, Pippi) rely heavily on fourth wall breaking narration and song to push the narrative, and themes, forward. There is still a disconnect: for every driving number extolling the orgasmic joy to be found in slaughtering a whale, there is a song by Kaitlin Milroy (one half of the house band Moonfruits) as the white whale who only wants to birth her calf in peace. She sings "I'm not evil, I'm not cruel. I'm a mammal just like you," which while didactic, is unsettling enough that one youngster left in tears. Such is the power of musicals.

The songs by Moonfruits, Milroy and Alex Millaire, are mainly folk-based but reach their height when they take on a Broadway-esque lilt. A drinking song is great audience participation fun, as is the whale hunting shanty until we realize what we are singing along to and it sticks in our throats. Amaka Umeh (Towards Youth, The Wolves, A Midsummer Night's Dream, Romeo and Juliet, James and the Giant Peach, This is for You, Anna, Sister Act, Jesus Christ Superstar) is a fearsome Captain Ahab who, in the 11 o'clock number, has their heart melted by a letter from a crew member's child. Fortunately that lasts only until Moby is sighted and Ahab heaves a harpoon that seals his doom. Having two villains who are not really villains, just misunderstood and victimized, makes for slightly bipolar dramatic tension but somehow in Moby, it works. As in a great horror film, monsters are sympathetic. And when it doesn't, there is another song or dramatic event to keep things moving along.

Director Alexandra Montagnese has the difficult chore of creating shifts in time and space without the help of concealing, or enhancing, lighting. Stage manager and costume designer Gabriel Vaillant pitches in by piloting a dinghy that creates another stage on the high seas. No-one is credited with sound design but, considering the wind and the unfortunate traffic noises, keeping the voices audible, let alone balanced, had to be a herculean task. The cast is totally capable of being the majority of the special effects and their belief in what they are seeing and experiencing crosses over the waves to make the audience believe. Umeh has a blast playing Ahab's insane bloodlust, and Tuma handles reams of exposition like a true pro. Tuma utters the immortal line "Call me Ishmael" and is our entrance, our guide, all innocence and wonder, to the rough and tumble world of the whalers. She is saddled with a character who mainly reacts until gifted with the climactic number, which she sells admirably over the gulls and a passing fire truck with blazing sirens.

Of course a musical needs a romance, beyond the dysfunctional one between a deranged captain and a whale, and Ishmael meets her Queequeg in Jamar Adams-Thompson. He is all sinew and smiles as he shows her the ropes, flirts, and, it is discreetly implied, demonstrates the allure of a sailor out of uniform. Who could resist? But on a basic level, MOBY is a children's show recommended for ages 5 and up. A sing-a-long about blubber is an ohrwurm, but there are enough one-liners and winking asides about harpoons to keep the adults amused as well. And yes, the great white whale does make a brief appearance, though it was far more terrifying when we simply believed that it was lurking right under the Pequod. And us. For several magical moments, our solid landlubber seating seemed suddenly, delightfully, precarious.