A Mirrored Monet, the new musical at Charing Cross Theatre, arrives in London with a notable pedigree. An early version proved successful at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe in 2023, where the natural brevity of a shorter format suited its reflective premise. In expanding the piece for a full evening, however, the production loses much of the focus and urgency that made its initial concept appealing.
The story opens promisingly in 1916, with an ageing Claude Monet, played with quiet sincerity by Jeff Shankley, living with his daughter in law and wrestling with both his declining health and the enormous artistic pressure of completing The Water Lilies. His eyesight faltering and his motivation dwindling, Monet invites the audience into his hallucinations, asking us to become witnesses to his past and to hold up a mirror to his character. It is a poetic device that hints at a moving exploration of identity, legacy and the act of seeing.
Yet after this evocative beginning, the musical steps back from its own ambitions. Rather than following through on the idea of a man confronting his fractured sense of self, the production settles into a straightforward biography. As the older Monet watches scenes from his youth, the younger painter is brought vividly to life by Dean John Wilson, who delivers rich vocals and an energetic presence. We follow Monet as he studies in Paris with Manet, Renoir and Bazille, and as he falls in love with Camille Doncieux, played with bright charm by Brooke Bazarian. The hardships of early artistic life, including financial strain and personal tragedy, are engaging enough, but the narrative is stretched too thinly to build emotional weight.
The pacing is the musical’s most persistent challenge. Scenes that could land with real poignancy drift by, while subplots involving antagonists Marquis and Leroy never develop the tension needed to drive the story forward. Without conflict, the episodic structure begins to feel static.
Carmel Owen’s score is melodic in places, and the cast handle it with commitment, yet the musical style shifts frequently and not always purposefully. Ballads appear where a more dynamic number might have lifted the energy, and vice versa. Some lyrics attempt to plug narrative gaps or fall into awkward rhyme, occasionally undercutting the emotion of a moment. A late farewell sung with the line “my love I am running out of time, my love I would like a water and lime” lands with unintended humour.
The production’s design is its most consistently strong element. Libby Todd’s set of blank canvasses allows lighting and projections to paint the environments around Monet, creating transitions that are often genuinely beautiful.
There is a compelling musical hidden somewhere within A Mirrored Monet, but in its current expanded form it struggles to see itself clearly. A return to the concise structure of its Edinburgh origins might allow its artistic vision to come into focus.
Listings and ticket information can be found here
