Jekyll & Hyde

Grand Canal Theatre, Dublin

There is a terrifying duality at the heart of man, a struggle between conscience and more base urges that is encapsulated in the horrifying and strangely thrilling transformation of great literature into a hokey musical.

Take Robert Louis-Stevenson's The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, a novella more adapted than read, whose title characters have been extracted from their allegory and been made into stock figures of camp horror.

Then add songs.

It is turn-of-the-century London, all foggy and sepulchral, where chorus lines of Peers, prostitutes and chimney sweeps sing, “It’s all a facade!” This is a neat thematic overture about the hypocrisy of Victorian society, but it also touchingly invokes Mark Bailey’s scenery, with its great generic detail and pleasing lack of substance. The same goes for the 1997 musical written by Leslie Bricusse and scored by Frank Wildhorn, here directed by Martin Connor. Pleased with its interpretation of the story as a tangle between good and evil, the show threads the idea into every scene and song.

It is not enough, for instance, for Marti Pellow’s obsessed Dr Jekyll to have just a divided self. Here, he has two love interests: his virtuous fiancee Emma, so pure of heart and voice in Sarah Earnshaw’s performance that a flute follows her wherever she goes; and Lucy, an unhappy prostitute who belts out her problems in an enjoyably brassy performance from Sabrina Carter.

Pellow admirably leaves his pop star vocalisations at the door, but the slight vibrato in his baritone lends his characters a certain tremble. As the obsessed Jekyll, he reaches for every passing item of furniture, like a man feeling his way through the dark, finding more fun in Hyde, (left) whose transformation is signalled by a funky fur-collared cape, a hunch and near complete indecipherability.

Pellow is heading for a novel showdown – a duet with himself – facilitated with body doubles, trick mirrors and, least satisfyingly, a video projection. It tames the turmoil, but the musical will only indulge so much darkness.

It isn't co-incidental that of few memorable songs, This Is The Momenthas become synonymous with triumphant Olympic medal ceremonies, not a man about to unleash his twisted id. When Hyde takes over, his murderous rampage becomes a campy whodunnit ("Don't look at me!" Hyde pops up), and though it's a lark, it aches for the grim comedy of Sweeney Todd, as though the show can't reconcile its subject with its tone, succumbing to its own split personality disorder.

– Runs until March 12