Bright Star, presented by Mirvish and Garner Theatre Productions, has that hokey, aw shucks lustre that should have me rolling my eyes. This earnest bluegrass musical wears more than its heart on its sleeve; the stirring big reveal of the story, for instance, telegraphs itself loudly from the opening scenes. If you understand at all how stories work, the set-up itself is a spoiler, but that didn’t diminish its emotional impact for me.
Written by Steve Martin and Edie Brickell, the songs are catchy and guileless. The lyrics, like the book scenes, contain little subtext—characters just flat out tell us what they believe and how they feel—yet that unguarded simplicity really charmed me. It’s not deep, but neither is it pretentious or cloying. I sense that Martin, Brickell and the cast of this Canadian premiere really mean it—and that counts for a lot.
Set in the rural American South, the story jumps back and forth between the 1920s and 1940s. Esteemed publisher and force to be reckoned with, Alice Murphy (Kaylee Harwood), takes a vested interest in young writer Billy Cane (Nick Dolan), to the astonishment of her quippy employees Daryl and Lucy (Jonathan Gysbers and Marie Mahabal Hauer). Declining an invite to join them in some afterwork drinking and dancing, she fondly recalls her outgoing youth, taking us back with her to a fledging, youthful romance between her and the Mayor’s son, Jimmy Ray Dobbs (George Krissa). In these early scenes, Krissa seems to be channelling some of Anatole’s bombastic charisma from Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 and is a good match for Harwood’s stirring vocal intensity and playful forthrightness.
They have a child together, but only they are happy about it. Both sets of parents, the Murphys (Donna Garner and Scott Carmichael) and Mayor Dobbs (Brendan Wall), conspire to quash this union to uphold religious and social propriety. The child is taken from them; the patriarchal establishment deciding for Alice what’s best for her—a story beat that feels like a throwback and also uncomfortably current. And though we clearly know who we are rooting for and who deserves our contempt, the finale offers a glimmer of redemptive reckoning.
Brandon Kleiman’s set is an expanse of clapboard. Protruding porch, door and windows give it a rustic domesticity, but it feels more like a backdrop than a lived-in environment. That distinctive artifice is in line with director Jacob Wolstencroft’s overall concept, a theatrical flatness that enhances the concert vibes, a sense of folks jamming’ together, spinning a yarn. The entire ensemble play a variety of instruments throughout, contributing to this deliberate affect.
It is both funny and sentimental, though it should perhaps be a little more clever considering Martin’s involvement. Even the barrage of literary nods to Southern writers feels more like name-dropping than meaningful homage. One particular narrative thread—a silly, puppy-dog crush that eager Max (Randy Lei Chang) has for local bookstore clerk Margo (Yunike Soedarmasto)—comes off as more of a bit than an integrated story element, despite the enthusiasm and warmth of both Chang and Soedarmasto. She really shines in her scenes with Dolan as Margo pines for Billy. Beau Dixon’s Daddy Cane is another highlight, brining an infectious affability and poignant gravitas.
Bright Star is schmaltzy and its characters don’t have much resounding depth, but it doesn’t pretend otherwise. It’s a warm and folksy bauble that never outlasts its welcome.



The employees of Alice Murphy, Daryl and Lucy are played by Jonathan Gysbers (not Andrew Legg) and Marie Mahabal Hauer
Oops! Thank you for pointing out the error. It has been corrected.