RING OF FIRE IS LONG ON JOHNNY’S MUSIC, SHORT ON DRAMA REVIEW
Cash fans will like show despite the lack of focus on the love story
Daryl Cloran’s summer experiment at the Citadel may prove an annual offering if crowds during a preview of Ring of Fire offer any predictive value.
A nearly sold-out congregation in the Maclab theatre hooted, clapped and jiggled its knees as the exuberant tribute to Johnny Cash rang out, featuring more than 30 songs recorded by Cash throughout his long and mighty career. (The man in black is one of the best-selling music artists ever, with 90 million record sales to his credit worldwide.)
Originally written by Richard Maltby Jr. and Bill Meade for a 2006 Broadway run, Ring of Fire closed early due to poor reviews and attendance. Though the Broadway show featured the music of Johnny Cash, he wasn’t a character in the production, seen as part of the problem with the show. Later, the jukebox musical was rewritten by Maltby and Jason Edwards to include more Cash cachet, and has gone on to be seen in a variety of settings, including Prince Edward Island’s Charlottetown Festival.
Though the legendary love story between Cash and his wife, June Carter Cash, roots the Maclab production, if you’re
hoping for an emotional connection reminiscent of the Academy award-winning Walk the Line (with Reese Witherspoon and Joaquin Phoenix playing the passionate pair), don’t worry about remembering your hanky. This version of Johnny’s life is light on love story. In fact, despite the inherently dramatic arc of Cash’s own life, there is not a notable narrative in Ring of Fire.
The show begins with a haunting line — “no matter where the train takes you, some day that journey will end.” Okay, it’s a bit of a downer, although no surprise, as Johnny Cash died in 2003 at the age of 71, just a few months after his beloved June. For me, that opener served as a reminder to live in the moment, and that’s my recommendation for patrons at Ring of Fire.
The show combines a talented ensemble of six with Cash hits for two hours of quality entertainment. That’s probably enough for Johnny’s fans, who peppered the seats with solid black outfits and cowboy boots. Ring of Fire delivers the tunes — a crossover combo of gospel, country and rock and roll — that made, and make, Johnny Cash every person’s performer. Jonas Shandel as Cash is the living guts of the show and produces a remarkable homage to the loose-limbed, slow-smilin’ performer. His guitar is slung across his back like it was born there; his arms move back and forth like the connecting rods of a steam locomotive. The train theme, pierced by a lonely whistle, chugs through Ring of Fire.
The first act opens with Country Boy, a reminder of Cash’s humble roots. Born in 1932, he was picking cotton on the family farm in Arkansas by the age of five. The family sang as they worked, contributing to Johnny’s precocious talent; he was writing and playing songs on his guitar by 12. Classics such as Five Feet High and Rising are linked to those early years, when a flood and the Great Depression deeply affected Cash, his family and neighbours.
Edmonton native Quinn Dooley (last seen at the Citadel in the acclaimed Evangeline) plays Cash’s mother and June. She’s lithe, graceful and a more-than-competent singer, capturing June’s renowned sense of humour, as well as her classy and restrained delivery. June might swing her petticoats or gently pat her own thigh as she sang, but she’s no Madonna. There is such peace in that.
It’s a treat to see Edmonton talent Julien Arnold in the ensemble, where he picks up a range of instruments, from the mandolin to the banjo, adding his warm vocal delivery to the mix. The carefully-crafted harmonies of the ensemble (including Matt Blackie, Lawrence Libor and Daniel Williston) in songs like Angel Band reflect the careful work of music director Steven Greenfield. The show’s brisk packing by director Tracey Flye easily holds the attention of the audience.
Lighting (by Jareth Li) and stage design (Cory Sincennes) are evocative, and the sound design by guitar enthusiast Bobby Smale feels warm and sincere.
The show is meant to act as more than a vehicle for Cash and Carter, highlighting, though subtly, the rich historical underpinnings of the American musical experience in the middle of the last century. There’s an amusing tribute to the Grand Ole Opry, and Cash’s collaboration with Carl Perkins, Daddy Sang Bass, hums with rural nostalgia. If I were producing Ring of Fire,
I’d probably drop Delia’s Gone, an oddly comic chronicling of domestic homicide. (But perhaps I lack a sense of humour.) The show is good fun, and a good way to bridge spring and fall at the Citadel.