Love Bomb gets stuck in its convention

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      Book and lyrics by Meghan Gardiner. Music and additional lyrics by Steve Charles. Directed by Reneé Iaci. A Shameless Hussy production, presented by the Firehall Arts Centre. At the Firehall Arts Centre on Wednesday, September 30. Continues until October 10

      Love Bomb gets so stuck in its convention that it forgets to tell a compelling story.

      In Meghan Gardiner’s book for this musical, a young rocker named Justine is setting up for a bar gig when Lillian, a middle-aged woman, talks her way into the space. Lillian presents herself as a fan and Justine agrees to sing two songs for her. It’s a slow start: no dramatic tension, just a couple of unanchored tunes.

      Eventually, we find out that Lillian is searching for Nicola, her young-adult daughter, who disappeared seven months earlier. Lillian has tracked Justine down because she recognizes references to Nicola’s hometown of Fort St. John in the rocker’s lyrics. Although Justine finally confesses to using Nicola’s poetry, she refuses to tell Lillian anything else. Justine has built nine songs on Nicola’s words, however, so, desperate for more information about her child, Lillian threatens to expose Justine’s plagiarism unless Justine sings all nine of them for her.

      What follows has to be one of the most indirect and artificial exchanges ever imagined. Justine sings a song, then she debates its meaning with Lillian. Lillian tries to make a point—like “My daughter loves me,” for instance—and, in rebuttal, Justine picks up her guitar and launches into another number. Why is song analysis preferable to having a straightforward conversation? And why is the reluctant Justine engaging in any of this? Lillian threatens to tell the police about Justine’s supposed theft if she doesn’t comply, but what the hell are the police going to do about it?

      The drama continues to flatline partly because it takes forever for Justine’s investment in Nicola’s narrative to come to light. Let’s just say that Love Bomb is about a pimp’s emotional manipulation. To the bitter end, though, Love Bomb keeps the lived experience of prostitution at such a distance that the script never rings true: the play’s resolution serves an abstract dramatic function, but doesn’t carry the weight of emotional reality.

      Absolutely none of this is the fault of Sara Vickruck, who is charismatic as Justine. She plays her guitars with skill and sings with abandon, she brings a sly sense of humour, and, impressively, her cheeks flush with shame. Deb Pickman does her best with the underwritten role of Lillian, a stereotypically feisty mom.

      Steve Charles composed the music and shares the lyric-writing credit with Gardiner. Lots of the songs are good. With its spare, meditative arrangement, “Shoebox”, which is about alienation, is haunting and “Mothership Down” is a touchingly angry rock anthem.

      You need more than songs for a musical, though. You need a decent book to place them in, and Love Bomb doesn’t have one.

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