There is an old saying in folk music that a ballad is only as strong as the thread holding its story together, and in Finn Anderson and Tania Azevedo’s new musical Ballad Lines, that thread is unfortunately frayed. While the production features a cast with clear vocal ability, the narrative is often over-ambitious and emotionally distant. The story follows Sarah (Frances McNamee), a New Yorker who has distanced herself from her West Virginian roots, only to be pulled back by a box of cassette tapes inherited from her prickly Aunt Betty (Rebecca Trehearn). From here, the audience is transported across time to 17th-century Scotland to meet Cait (Kirsty Findlay) and 18th-century Ireland to follow Jean (Yna Tresvalles). While the central exploration of motherhood across centuries is a potent concept, the execution feels weighed down by its own earnestness, resulting in a production that struggles to find its momentum.
Director Tania Azevedo, who also co-wrote the book, clearly possesses an affection for the folk traditions that inspired the piece, yet the production suffers from a heavy pace that fails to find a consistent rhythm. Transitions between centuries are intended to feel fluid and ethereal, but they often come across as cluttered, leaving the audience to track the lineage rather than feel the emotional stakes. The biggest hurdle remains the script; the dialogue frequently lapses into clunky territory, with characters uttering platitudes about time and memory that feel more like poetic abstractions than authentic human connection. For a show that aims to tackle the raw edges of history and survival, the writing is surprisingly polished and unsubtle, particularly during a final act that delivers its message quite heavily.
It is a pity the storytelling falters, as the performances are solid across the board. Frances McNamee serves as a grounded anchor for the modern-day segments, though her character’s journey feels underdeveloped compared to the high-stakes survival of her ancestors. Kirsty Findlay brings a necessary steel to the role of Cait, while Rebecca Trehearn is reliable as ever, utilising her strong vocals to elevate a character that occasionally feels like a plot device. Ally Kennard also deserves credit for the task of multi-rolling various male figures, bringing a level of empathy to roles that are largely written as archetypes.
Ultimately, at two hours and twenty-five minutes, Ballad Lines feels like a long sit. The score by Finn Anderson is certainly melodic, blending traditional folk textures with contemporary musical theatre arrangements, but a series of pleasant songs does not necessarily constitute a cohesive musical. By trying to cover too much ground—ancestry, bodily autonomy, and the immigrant experience—the production fails to land a truly resonant punch for any single theme. It is a show with a sincere heart and a lovely sound, but it requires a sharper edit and a more focused narrative compass to truly connect with its audience.
It runs until 21 March.