
"Oh, breaking up is so very hard to do" - lead Walker Scott emotes his lines like they're being dragged out of him by torture, making his "Don't try to spare my feelings, just tell me that we're through" entreat sound as genuine as a thirty pound note - this is not what he wants to hear at all. Though Scott's aiming for a clean break, there's little here that's going to lessen the guilt pill for his departing lover.... unless that's kind of the point; maybe this particular heartbreak is all one way traffic and the "So run to him, before you start crying too" is more indicative of wishful thinking than reciprocated feeling.
But however you read it, 'Make It Easy On Yourself' is a big bowl of hurting for at least one party and it pulls off a level of Shangri-Las at the opera angst that makes it buzz with the drama of theatre. And to that end, Scott cuts a lonely, impoverished Miss Haversham figure in splendid isolation with his cake of memories, wallowing in the "Oh, baby, it's so hard to do" reverse schadenfreude of knowing that making it easier for her makes it all the harder for him. 'Make It Easy On Yourself' plays like a Victorian mausoleum with angels and Greek pillars, a grand and overblown statement of quasi celebration of mourning for something where a simple, more dignified letting go might have been more fitting. But that's not what teen angst is all about, and in that 'Make It Easy On Yourself' knows its audience well and plays directly to that particular gallery quite magnificently.
No comments:
Post a Comment