Barnum tells the story of P.T. Barnum, the legendary showman who builds his career by turning his talent for “humbug” into a successful entertainment empire. From his museum and travelling circus to his promotion of so-called “oddities” and his partnership with Swedish singer Jenny Lind, Barnum is determined to give audiences something they’ve never seen before. Along the way, his relentless ambition puts increasing strain on his marriage to his more grounded wife, Charity.
The production makes an immediate visual impression. The stage is cleverly transformed into a cross-section of a circus tent, with theatre balcony seating incorporated into the set, creating an appropriately theatrical world for Barnum’s travelling show. There are some hugely talented musicians and performers on stage. Jenny Lind’s introduction is particularly beautiful, with her gorgeous vocals complemented by aerial acrobats suspended above her.
But for all the show’s visual flair, the story falls flat.
The musical clearly wants us to see Barnum as an ambitious visionary, encouraging those around him to dream bigger. His relationship with his wife, Charity, seems intended to provide balance: she keeps him grounded while he encourages her to embrace a more adventurous life.
Instead, they feel like two strangers orbiting each other, occasionally colliding when the plot requires it. Charity openly disapproves of his “humbug”, but there isn’t enough depth to their relationship to make their conflicts particularly consequential. With little sense of genuine jeopardy or consequence, the musical never quite manages to make us care about whether he succeeds. Barnum’s museum burns down? He simply moves on to the next scheme. He cheats on his wife? Somehow that gets resolved through a promise to dabble in politics. And that makes Barnum himself a difficult character to root for.
The opening number bluntly establishes Barnum’s philosophy: his success depends on there being plenty of people willing to believe his humbug. It’s difficult to reconcile the show’s celebration of Barnum with the fact that his success comes from exploiting people for entertainment. An old woman being falsely advertised as the oldest person in the world isn’t particularly remarkable to a modern audience, especially when we’re explicitly told that the claim is a lie. Even Barnum doesn’t seem particularly convinced that the people he exhibits possess anything genuinely extraordinary. There are so many genuinely talented and extraordinary people on stage, it’s hard not to wonder why we’re being asked to celebrate a man whose talent largely lies in exploiting them.
There are some strange choices elsewhere too. Barnum’s relationship with the audience is particularly muddled. He appears to be looking back and telling us the story of his life, but then occasionally asks questions as though the decisions are still to be made. Add in an omniscient narrator who periodically announces events like a circus ringleader, and the storytelling becomes an odd mixture of memoir, narration and events unfolding in real time.
The show is not without its charms. The musicians are hugely talented, the performers throw themselves wholeheartedly into the circus material, and there are some lovely musical moments too – although I remain unconvinced that kazoos have ever improved a musical.
But at its core is Barnum and his belief in the spectacular. Unfortunately, I never quite became convinced that there was anything worth believing in.
★★★
Katie Reviews 