You’re watching a musical fantasy where two Second World War fighter pilots, Tommy Albright (Louis Gaunt) and Jeff Douglas (Cavan Clarke), crash into a Highland village that appears only once in a century. Directed and choreographed by Drew McOnie with a new adaptation by Rona Munro, this version sings Lerner and Loewe’s familiar songs – Almost Like Being in Love, Waitin’ for My Dearie, The Heather on the Hill – through a darker wartime lens.
The synopsis unfolds gradually. You catch the pilots’ crash and their discovery of Brigadoon, interwoven with Fiona MacLaren (Danielle Fiamanya, alternating with Georgina Onuorah) preparing for her sister’s wedding. Song mixes with ritual; pipers and dancers drift in from the audience’s rear, infusing folk energy at moments like an early Act I entrance. Heather appears and disappears under shifting lights, pressing mood onto spectacle. By the midpoint, the wedding, the pilots’ presence and their emotional collision come into focus.
Gaunt as Tommy opts for physical subtlety: slightly wounded posture during his first exchange with Fiona – and it stakes out his cautious tenderness. It softens the hero trope and gives the romance a fragile footing. Fiamanya’s Fiona mixes grounded stillness with longing in her eyes when she confronts her split-second choice; she makes you feel both anchored and adrift.
This revival tries to explore postwar trauma. It hints at deeper character scars, such as Tommy’s injury and Jeff’s mental strain, but they remain in passing, unexploited. The result is atmosphere without gravity. The dreamy choreography often drifts atop the narrative rather than carrying it; a mourning dance by Maggie (Chrissy Brooke) is beautiful but too abstract to carry heartbreak.
Staging choices deliver mood. Bińkowska’s tiered wooden set with diagonal lines recalls modernist architecture under shimmering heather, sharp but still organic. Lighting by Hung Han Yun enhances dusk-like glow. Costumes mix period and slight modern frays, traditional kilts paired with contemporary cuts. But where set and light add texture, costume feels cautious.
This revival seems more preoccupied with evoking Brigadoon than interrogating it. In a climate where escapism often turns dystopian, the idea of a place frozen in time feels timely, even if the production doesn’t probe why you’d want to stay. You sense yearning in Fiona’s “waitin’ for my dearie,” but you don’t quite feel why Brigadoon should hold you.
You would enjoy this if you value enchanting choreography, design that evokes rather than explains, and a light romantic haunt of song. You will feel shortchanged if you need emotional stakes or a sharp narrative arc.
