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Sweetheart’s tunes sweetly crooned

Review Let Me Call You Sweetheart Where: Belfry Theatre When: To May 19 Rating: 3 stars (out of 5) - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Are there problems with senior citizens becoming romantically involved? Depends.
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Alec Willows, as Murray, and Nicola Lipman, as Nora, portray geriatric romance through song and silliness.

Review

Let Me Call You Sweetheart

Where: Belfry Theatre

When: To May 19

Rating: 3 stars (out of 5)

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Are there problems with senior citizens becoming romantically involved?

Depends.

In truth, adult-diaper humour surfaces only fleetingly in Let Me Call You Sweetheart, a brand-new musical that premièred in Victoria on Thursday night.

This gentle romp is a rather earnest look at geriatric romance. Some will be charmed by its homespun charm and good intentions, not to mention Bill Henderson’s convincing evocations of mid-century music. Others may yearn for sharper-edged wit and pizzazz.

The notion of amore amongst the geezer set may be burgeoning in popularity, what with the emergence of films like The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel and Quartet. Let Me Call You Sweetheart, with book and lyrics by Victoria’s Bruce Ruddell, is about a nice old woman, Nora, who’s fallen for a nice old man. (Well, truth be told, Murray — the more interesting and enigmatic of the pair — does have a mildly rascally side.)

Nora (Nicola Lipman), who’s in an old-age facility, is poised for a significant life change that’s upsetting her. Her home requires residents to have a certain level of mobility and mental acuity. Sadly, Nora is failing the grade — she now wakes up wondering what day it is and occasionally falls off the toilet.

“God I hate being old,” she announces after toppling from her throne.

“Have you hurt anything?” says her caretaker.

“My pride,” says Nora.

Happily, she has two things that make life worth living. There’s Murray (Alec Willows), her elderly beau, whose scruffy dapperness and talent for grainy-voiced singing and playing the uke suggests Tom Waits’ great-uncle. And there’s the fact Nora and Murray find great pleasure in vocalizing together — they even have a regular gig at a local eatery.

Actually, there are three things that make life bearable: the lovebirds also enjoy sipping sherry together from an enormous bottle that’s drained regularly.

Wine, love and song sounds like a pleasant enough way to spend one’s golden years. Yet aside from the dark cloud of Nora’s impending eviction, there’s her son Rupert (Vincent Gale). This kill-joy disapproves of Murray, his mom’s singing and that jumbo bottle of sherry. He’s a rather one-dimensional villain — no one really likes Rupert … not even his wife.

Let Me Call You Sweetheart, directed by Michael Shamata, is crafted as an intimate little musical. The 14 numbers are not belted out Broadway-style. Rather, they are sweetly crooned.

Two of the tunes are old chestnuts: Red Red Robin and Let Me Call You Sweetheart. The remainder are Ruddell and Henderson’s original re-creations of the music of the 1920s, ’30s and ’40s. The lyrics reflect on Nora and Murray’s situation, with titles such as Photographs, Swing With Me and Sun Sinkin’ Low.

Henderson’s tuneful melodies cleverly evoke the time. They’re intended to sound like classics from the Great American Songbook — and they certainly do. Willows plays the ukulele well and Karel Roessingh’s expert piano accompaniment cannot be faulted. That said, I wish some songs were arranged for a larger combo, perhaps with a percussion section. The most lively and convincing numbers — the New Orleans-style Good Times Are Overdue and Swing With Me — both benefited from Willows’ sharp rhythms, dispatched via brushes and a snare drum.

The songs are woven in — and performed — in a low-key, naturalistic manner. It’s obvious the creative team wants to avoid any disruption of the musical’s intimate tone. Yet I suspect performing the songs in a more heightened theatrical style — both in terms of visual presentation and delivery — would give Let Me Call You Sweetheart a vivacity that’s lacking. It would also provide a dynamic contrast with the mundanity of the rest-home setting and action (or lack thereof).

A less-successful element is a series of flashbacks to Nora’s childhood. She was reluctantly adopted by an uncle and aunt living in a desolate prairie locale. These sequences, delivered behind a screen, are unrelentingly grim and, what’s worse, seem stilted. Their redeeming feature is a pair of songs sweetly sung by Elizabeth Duncan, playing young Nora.

A revolving stage works OK. Susan Benson’s bare-bones set — with its darkly painted walls and three purple plants — is uninspired. Little is done with lighting.

Still, if the subject matter and storyline sound appealing, you may well find this a heartwarming and life-affirming evening.

achamberlain@timescolonist.com