There are lots of big name actors on Broadway but very few real stars. Hugh Jackman has the rare ability to not only draw in an audience but to hold us in the palm of his hand throughout the performance. It has been said that in The River,Jackman withholds his usual charm. This is entirely untrue. Without his natural charisma, this soufflé of banality, pseudo-mystery, and excess verbiage would fall in on itself within the first ten minutes.
Labeled as The Man, Jackman’s character is apparently appealing enough to attract both The Woman and The Other Woman (and possibly, countless more hapless females) to a rustic and remote cabin in the woods to go fishing for sea trout. There’s a lot of talk about fishing, probably more than most people would find interesting, but there is something enticing about watching Jackman prepare a freshly caught fish to be eaten.
I reject the notion that women are interchangeable, though not the concept that some men believe this to be true. Whether or not this idea is at the heart of The River is debatable, but it’s as good a theory as any. The stage is kept so dark, it’s often difficult to see clearly, but the performances are convincing even when the dialogue isn’t. Cush Jumbo is especially compelling as the woman who is both most exotic and most explicable. But there are so many unanswered questions about this play that it becomes distracting. Where is this taking place? Accents would suggest Australia, or possibly Ireland. Why isn’t the tease about the damaged picture ever explained? And at the heart of the matter, is any of this actually real? But never mind. The show will sell out -- with standing room available- because of the star power of Hugh Jackman. Even better, at the end of the performance, he auctions off his sodden shirt for charity, and the audience goes wild. If only The River were half as exciting.
