I Found My Horn

ADC Theatre, 18th-21st May, 11pm, £4-6

Directed by Jack Furness

[rating:3/5]

Being in the audience of a one-man show is, crudely, akin to being served a dish composed of a single ingredient.

Some one-man (or indeed one-woman) shows are caviar or Camembert: subtle, rich, easy to savour over the course of an hour. Oskar McCarthy’s act, however, is more like a chicken fry-up; tasty, but not really gourmet.

The script is altogether disappointing. I Found My Horn recounts Jasper Rees’ attempt to face down a mid-life crisis by challenging himself to pick up the instrument he abandoned in childhood. He directs himself at the aim of playing a solo at the Annual Festival of the British Horn Society.

A good portion of the piece’s resonance rides on us being able to share in Jasper’s joy in the beauty of classical music. But this bland, watery script failed to enthrall me. The speeches of a handful of academics and students were more successful in last week’s Union debate on classical music.

Photographs provided by the production

McCarthy doesn’t help matters by spending uncomfortable stretches swooning around the stage with his eyes closed like a badly-acted Juliet, while horn music blares from the speakers, reminding us that there are few things worse than ecstasy conveyed mediocrely.

Frustrating, as I had a genuine musician in front of me, who no doubt had much passion for his craft but failed to really let us in. The set prominently featured images and ‘inspirational’ horn-related quotes projected onto the back of the screen. This was unnecessary and distracted attention from the actor, who ought to carry the show on his own.

The piece requires McCarthy to be seven or eight different characters – as an actor, he finds both his strongest and weakest moments here. He switches between them with light-footed aplomb and comedy, and this energy finds its best output in conveying the Nazi horn instructor or the grating American. However, it’s disheartening to find McCarthy far more comfortable in stereotypes and shallow laughs than in conveying the genuine despair and delight in his protagonist’s arc.

But then I found myself, slowly but almost certainly, beginning to care about Jasper and his horn.  McCarthy’s act seemed to sweeten as his character’s horn-playing skills did.

In a nifty metaphysical hat-trick, the character’s can-do attitude and simple desire to just put on a show, dammit, no matter what anyone thinks cast a halo over the actor’s performance. This icy reviewer was pleasantly surprised to be reminded of that element of sheer optimism so often lost in the narcissistic bogs of Cambridge theatre.

And it has to be said – whatever my qualms with McCarthy’s acting, his final horn piece does make the evening worthwhile, and none of us in the auditorium could deny how much we wanted Jasper to shine. His passion does finally burst through, even if not through stagecraft.

So no caviar, no Camembert for me – but not every night can be gourmet night, and a greasy little treat might be the thing for you.