A Man of No Importance

As theatrical premises go, there can be few as unappetising as this: Alfie, a middle-aged bus conductor, finally comes out, and still doesn't get any. But the appeal of this impossibly charming new musical, from the 1994 film with Albert Finney, is its ability to unearth drama in the dross of real life, tragedy in tiny chances left untaken, and vastly uplifting climaxes in the smallest, most qualified of victories. This elegant adaptation from Terrence McNally, Stephen Flaherty and lyricist Lynn Ahrens finds its dramatic edge in Alfie's undying love of Oscar Wilde. The plot turns around his attempt to stage the risqué 'Salome' with a troupe of dubiously talented, am-dram misfits in 1960s Dublin. Lining this struggle is another: what Alfie can barely say to his mirror, he would iterate to all the world: the love that dare not speak its name.

Ben De Wynter's wonderfully economic production pulls off a fine theatrical coup, in which the straightened circumstances of Alfie's band of dramatic brothers are reflected by his own. Paul Clarkson is a beautifully innocent, tempered Alfie, heading a stalwart comic cast of redoubtable Dubliners, with RóisÌn Sullivan in particular providing a fine portrait of lost youth, and Nicola Redman soaring to the vocal challenge of the liturgical score. There are a couple of uncomfortable performances, and the piece isn't perfectly convincing musically, though the Sondheim-inspired ensemble numbers and 'Books', a contrapuntal duologue between Alfie's sister and his nemesis, are flawless. But this is a fabulously heartwarming fringe outing of a tale of the late flowering of courage and the considerable consolations of the theatre.