There’s a strange irony in a musical about Normie Rowe’s life being staged at Scotch College. Many of the show’s early scenes concern themselves with Rowe’s formative years in the working class suburb of Northcote – a far cry from the manicured lawns of the Hawthorn boys’ school.
This is just the first of many oddities in Normie The Musical, an original production being staged by non-professional theatre company, Old Scotch Music and Drama Club (OSMaD).
After the moderate successes of other Australian jukebox musicals like Shout: The Legend of the Wild One, and Dusty: The Original Pop Diva, one must wonder why the Normie Rowe story wasn’t able to score itself a bigger debut.
The answer soon becomes obvious: there doesn’t really seem to be a story worth telling here.
Writer Graeme Johnstone’s book follows two simultaneous storylines: Rowe’s rise from suburban banality to pop icon, and Sir Robert Menzies’ handover of the Prime Ministership to Harold Holt (strangely played by none other than the real-life Normie Rowe). The lives of these two men become interconnected when Rowe is drafted to Vietnam in 1967.
The most engaging plot developments (Rowe’s conscription into the army and his fans’ abandonment of him upon his return) are saved for far too late into the show. As a result, the entire first act is a schizophrenic experience, with the show unsure whether it wants to focus on Rowe’s increasing fame or the goings-on in Holt’s career and marriage. Ultimately, both these storylines are pursued with a distinct lack of purpose.
If there was a musical worth making out of this material, it’s mishandled by Johnstone’s ham-fisted book and some ill-conceived direction from Simon Eales.
A perplexing prologue set in a Russian vodka bar is a bizarre prelude to what follows.
Robert Menzies (played by David McLean), the longest serving Australian Prime Minister in history, is painted as a buffoon, at one point parading about Parliament House in nothing but his sock suspenders, red satin boxers and naval captain’s garb.
Normie The Musical
The inexplicable choice to have much of the Act 2 dialogue spoken in rhyming couplets was especially mindboggling. (At one point “Asian history” is pretty offensively described as a “conundrum wrapped in oriental mystery.”)
I was also left squirming at Eales’ depiction of the Vietnam War. As the bunch of young soldiers onstage guffawed around in near black out, giggling their way through a bloodbath where thousands of servicemen and civilians were killed, often in the most inhumane ways, I was a little ashamed on behalf of anyone connected to the conflict, Rowe included.
Undoubtedly the most off-colour moment of the show was Holt’s death scene. By the time the ill-fated PM disappears off the back of a rostrum amid hysteric squeals from his bevy of lady followers, this show is so far out to sea there’s no chance of resuscitation.
I’m still undecided about the development of the Ode of Remembrance (you know, the ANZAC Day “Lest We Forget” poem?) into an eleventh hour production number, though I’m sure many would have their qualms about its inclusion in this otherwise kitsch presentation.
The show is only redeemed by a wonderful vocal performance from Julian Campobasso who plays Normie for the majority of the show’s two and a quarter hour running time. Campobasso is a unique tenor, his rocky tone comfortably sliding into Rowe’s back catalogue. Highlights include ‘I (Who Have Nothing)’ and ‘Tell Him I’m Not Home’.
Rowe’s inclusion in the cast, while weird, gives the older audience members an opportunity to reconnect with one of their teen heartthrobs. As I looked down at the seats in front of me, there was more than the occasional blue-rinsed or brill-creamed scalp bopping away.
Sadly, the surrounding ensemble lacks finesse, particularly when it comes to Eale’s choreography. There’s very little unison on display here.
A high profile premiere production in a outside of the CBD was always going to be an experiment. Like all new shows, they undoubtedly need preening before their subsequent incarnation. If there’s a future for Normie beyond the current production, that preening needs to be dramatic. However, I fear that once the superfluous material has been cut away, there mightn’t be much of a story remaining.
