Theatre review: Come From Away is full of Newfoundlandish heart

Broadway Across Canada’s soulful touring production is inspired by real people’s experiences when planes were grounded in Gander on 9/11

The first North American tour company of Come From Away. Photo by Matthew Murphy

 
 
 

Broadway Across Canada presents Come From Away at Queen Elizabeth Theatre to August 28

 

THERE’S NOTHING NOT to like: with Newfie slang and folk music and a whole lot of heart, Come From Away tells a staggering true story with the kind of sincerity that Newfoundlanders became known for in the immediate aftermath of the horrific 9/11 terror attacks.

The setting is the tiny town of Gander, which suddenly accommodated nearly 7,000 people from 38 jets on international journeys that were diverted when U.S. air space shut down for the first time in history on September 11, 2001.

Twelve cast members each take on multiple roles throughout the fast-moving, intermissionless 100-minute show created by Irene Sankoff and David Hein. (The touring production is directed by Christopher Ashley.) The powerful ensemble jumpstarts things with the foot-stomping, high-energy “Welcome to the Rock”. The lyrics begin to paint a picture of the isolated place that the passengers found themselves in: “On the edge of the world/Where the river meets the sea/Here, at the edge of the Atlantic/On an island in between there and here.”

It may take viewers a while to grasp the characters’ Newfie accents: “tired” sounds like “toyered”; finally is more like “foy-nallly”. The show’s title refers to anyone who isn’t from Newfoundland; if you visit and a local asks you where you’re from, they’ll say you’ve come “from away”.

Toni-Leslie James’s costuming is suitably plain, most of the performers in everyday clothes like jeans and runners; there’s the odd baseball cap, and the elementary-school teacher dons cargo pants. The mayor, whose days typically start and end at Tim Horton’s, is the most dressed-up, with a plaid blazer and loafers. Beowulf Boritt’s set, flanked by trees, is similarly simple. The performers reconfigure mismatched wooden chairs that act as the cabin of a plane that passengers were stuck on for hours; the yellow bus that transported people to schools, Salvation Army shelters, community centres, and churches in Gander and nearby towns; and the legion where spent locals and visitors alike gathered one night to dance and drink Screech.

 

The first North American tour company of Come From Away. Photo by Matthew Murphy

 

A smash hit that has racked up multiple honours (including Tony, Olivier, Drama Desk, and Dora awards) and the first Broadway show to be streamed by Apple TV+, the production hones in on the experiences of people like pilot Beverley Bass, the first woman to serve as captain on an American Airlines commercial flight (capably portrayed with confidence and caring by Marika Aubrey); gay couple Kevin and Kevin (Jeremy Woodard and Nick Duckart); Diane and Nick, of Texas and London, England respectively, the couple that met in a shelter and later married (Christine Toy Johnson and Chamblee Ferguson); Hannah (Danielle K. Thomas), who waits by the phone, desperate to hear from her son, a Brooklyn firefighter; and Bonnie (Kristen Peace), who discovers and looks after all the animals in cargo holds, including bonobo monkeys. Kevin Carolin stands out for literally wearing different hats as the four towns’ mayors, distinguishing them further with his vocal range; James Earl Jones II lends tremendously compelling physicality to his diverse roles as a regular Joe named Bob and a suave pilot.

The script is loaded with humour (look out for the sexy, toilet-plunger-wielding cardiologists), yet it doesn’t shy away from touching on uncomfortable topics such as Islamophobia. Contrasting the awfulness of the events that led to this unfathomable gathering of people from different worlds (or, as the show puts it, this “messed-up costume party”) is the kindness that the cast so genuinely conveys. This is what makes Come From Away still resonate more than two decades after 9/11: in a world ever more divided and troubled, it’s a buoyant reminder of the goodness, compassion, and humility humans are capable of.

And there’s just so much joy. The crack seven-member band features fiddle, bodhran, accordion, electric and acoustic guitar and bass, mandolin, bouzouki, whistles, Irish flute, uilleann pipes, drums and percussion, and fiddle. Oh, and there’s the “ugly stick”, an instrument in Newfoundland folk music made out of household items such as a mop handle adorned with things like bells and bottle caps. For the most part, the musicians are barely visible at the sides of the stage, except for that bar scene, where they join the party, and it’s a hoot.

At the show’s close, after audiences on this night had already leapt to their feet for a standing O, the musicians share a moment of raucousness, leading some in the crowd to bounce up and down along with them. Particularly after the pandemic, people are as welcoming of the soul at the heart of this story as the Gander townsfolk proved to be to complete strangers during that terrible time. 

 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 

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