Review — Der Rosenkavalier, Royal Opera, December 2009

Wonderful period sets and costumes for this 1984 production by John Schlesinger, revived by Andrew Sinclair, are the background for an enchanting evening. With Russian conductor Kirill Petrenko giving Strauss’s music more colour than I ever remember hearing, this was a musical feast. The star of the show for me was Lucy Crowe as Sophie, the girl whose wealthy father wants to marry her off to the nobility in the form of the boorish Baron Ochs. He was very well sung by Peter Rose, who gave him just the right nuances, without going over the top. As the knight who rescues Sophie from this appalling mismatch we had Sophie Koch as a strong-voiced Octavian, but I would have preferred more masculinity in her portrayal — she compared unfavourably in this respect to Daniela Sindram, whom I saw doing the same part in Berlin earlier this year. The presentation of the silver rose and the duet with Sophie in Act II was beautifully done. The Italian intriguers, Annina and Valzacchi, fed up with getting no payment from Ochs, turn to assist Octavian in taking him down a peg or two, and were very well played by Leah-Marian Jones and Graham Clark. In this production we see Octavian actually writing the letter to Ochs at the rear of the stage. This was all very well done, and I thought Act II came over brilliantly, helped of course by the simply wonderful set.

The audience seemed enthusiastic about Finnish soprano Soile Isokoski as the Marschallin, but the friends I know who liked her were seeing this opera for the first time. Having seen far better Marschallins, such as Anne Schwanewilms in Chicago in February 2006, I’m afraid I was underwhelmed. I found her voice too harsh in Act I and she lacked finesse and flirtatiousness with Octavian, though she certainly sang well in the trio at the end of Act III. Unfortunately, Lucy Crowe who had sung so well in the last two acts, seemed to tire right at the very end and lost her pitch, but this was the first night. The other disappointment was Thomas Allen as Faninal, Sophie’s wealthy father, who was surprisingly lacking in stage presence and vocal gravitas. But Wookyung Kim as the tenor in Act I  sang like a god.

Altogether this was a success, and it may be that some of the weaker points will be corrected in later performances. Watch this space two weeks hence.

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Novello Theatre, December 2009

This 1955 Tennessee Williams play deals with the emotional lies and silences within a Mississippi land-owning family. The action takes place on a single day — Big Daddy’s birthday — and we first meet Maggie, who has married into this well-to-do family, along with her husband Brick. She is the cat on a hot tin roof, desperate for some loving from her husband, an ex-football player, now a sports commentator hobbling around on a crutch after recently injuring his ankle. Maggie is almost the only person speaking in Act I, as Brick stays silent, occasionally lashing out with his crutch or falling over. The physical crutch is a recent temporary addition to his life, but alcohol is the real crutch that helps him face the day, and in the second act, Big Daddy enters and berates him for it, just as his wife did. But Brick still remains almost silent, until something snaps and he explains why he’s so angry, and angry in particular with his wife, who slept with his best friend Skipper. When Skipper died, Brick took to alcohol, and we finally understand why he drinks and avoids his wife, though we never really know how much sexual repression there was in the relationship with Skipper. The dialogue between Big Daddy and Brick is a high point of this drama, and it was brilliantly performed by James Earl Jones and Adrian Lester.

In the meantime there are other issues, such as Big Daddy’s impending death from cancer, which is being hidden from him, and the manoeuvring by Brick’s brother and the brother’s wife to take over the estate. After Big Mama rejects their legal documents, and Big Daddy finds out the truth, we seem to be left with a train-wreck. But this is where Maggie finally shows a stroke of genius, finding a way to delight Big Daddy, as well as getting off her hot tin roof and into her husband’s affections.

The production by Debbie Allen, with an elegant set by Ray Klausen, fine costumes by Jane Greenwood, and clear lighting by William Grant, works beautifully. But what really makes this a great performance are the actors. James Earl Jones and Phylicia Rashand as Big Daddy and Big Mama are superb. They both came with this production from Broadway, and both were born in the South, Mississippi in his case, where the action takes place, and Texas in hers. They were deeply believable, as if they had this drama in their bones. Jones’s deep bass voice was only one aspect of his wonderful performance — his stage presence was riveting, and he only needed to sit and move his head, for us to know exactly what was going on in his mind. Seneca Lathan as Maggie is another American cast member, and she was glorious, though one might prefer more smouldering and less electricity. Adrian Lester as Brick was very powerful in his anger and histrionics with the crutch, and he did extremely well with the Southern accent, particularly since he was performing next to actors from that region. The same could not be said of the man who gave a rather weak portrayal of his brother the lawyer, and sounded like an Englishman trying on a Southern drawl. But that quibble aside, the performance by this all black cast was terrific, and as an American friend of mine said, “This may be the best performance of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof you’ll ever see”.

Mother Courage, National Theatre, November 2009

This play by Bertolt Brecht — Mother Courage and her Children — was written very swiftly after the German invasion of Poland that year, but is set in the period of the thirty-year war from 1618 to 1648. It deals with a shrewd canteen woman who follows the troops across northern Germany, making a living from the business of war. At one point there is an ending of hostilities, which distresses her since she has just stocked up with provisions, whose value will rapidly fall. But in fact the war carries on, and the action is contained in twelve years during the middle of the war, represented in twelve scenes. An important technique used by Brecht is his Verfremdungseffect (alienation effect), which he says ”prevents the audience from losing itself passively and completely in the character created by the actor, and which consequently leads the audience to be a consciously critical observer”. This is achieved by the use of very simple props and scenery, often named by placards, and using the same actors in varied roles. It works in the sense that we are observers who remain unmoved by some of the terrible events that occur. Nor indeed do we feel any sympathy with Mother Courage herself, who was brilliantly played by Fiona Shaw. Her wily toughness comes over as part of her personality, rather than a survival mechanism, but who is to say? Her mute daughter Kattrin was well portrayed by Sophie Stone, and her younger son, the simple but honest Swiss Cheese was beautifully played by Harry Melling.

There is not a single character for whom one really feels much sympathy, and the dark side of war is ever-present. The play was well directed by Deborah Warner, with songs by Duke Special and ‘musicscape’ by Mel Mercier. The fine translation was by Tony Kushner, and the narrator’s voice was that of Gore Vidal, whose extremely bleak view of war, seeing it as a way of balancing the budget, was quoted in the programme. It was rather odd to have a variety of accents, American for Vidal, Irish for both Mother Courage and Stephen Kennedy as the chaplain, and English for most of the cast, but in some ways this conveyed a sense of internationalism to business carried on by other means, and aided the Verfremdungseffect desired by Brecht.

Salad Days, Riverside Studios, Hammersmith, London, November 2009

What fun this was! The old 1950s musical by Julian Slade and Dorothy Reynolds is a feast of joie de vivre and absurdity. And this Tête à Tête production worked like a charm, with the performers on a grassy lawn of astroturf, while some of the audience were at café tables, and others on a grassy bank. As winter approaches one can imagine that summers were always like this. A magical piano plays in the park, compelling even the policemen to dance, to say nothing of the lovers Jane and Timothy, well portrayed by Michelle Francis and Sam Harrison, with refined accents that never went over the top. They take care of the piano owned by a tramp and thaumaturge, who later turns out to be Timothy’s ‘black-sheep’ uncle. He was wonderfully well played by Matthew Hawksworth, who doubled up in other roles, such as the bishop, and danced gloriously in the choreography designed by Quinny Sacks. The dancing at one point even involved audience members, including yours truly who was gratified by congratulations from the director, Bill Bankes-Jones. His direction gave us a thoroughly enjoyable evening, and we left with spirits high despite the dismal weather outside.

Review — The Tsarina’s Slippers, Royal Opera, November 2009

This little-known Tchaikovsky opera is based on a tale by Gogol called Christmas Eve, a time of the year when witches were abroad, and demonic forces had to be tamed. In this story it’s achieved through youthful energy and a sense of fun, as Vakula the smith cunningly uses and circumvents these dangerous magical forces. They enable him to acquire the Tsarina’s slippers, a heroic task that his beloved Oxana challenges him to achieve if he wants to marry her. The basic story — boy gets girl — appears here in a phantasmagorical setting where the young man’s mother is a witch whose admirers include the schoolmaster, the mayor, and the devil himself.

This sparkling production by Francesca Zambello has lovely set designs by Mikhail Mokrov, and very colourful costumes by Tatiana Noginova, with lighting design by Rick Fisher. It includes serious ballet work, some electrifying Cossack dances and acrobatics, plus court dances for the opera chorus, all choreographed by Alastair Marriott. The second half, comprising Acts III and IV, is wonderful fun; the Cossack dancers were absolutely terrific, and Gary Avis and Mara Galeazzi of the Royal Ballet did some lovely pas-de-deux work.

Musically it all worked very well under the baton of Alexander Polianichko, who drew strong contributions from the wind section, and a very Russian sound from the orchestra. As to the singers, Larissa Diadkova was predictably excellent as Solokha the witch, with Maxim Mikhailov vocally and physically lively as the devil. The bass role for the elderly Cossack, Chub was wonderfully sung and acted by Vladimir Matorin, and Vakula was very strongly performed by Vsevolod Grivnov, making a superb debut at Covent Garden. Chub’s daughter Oxana was sung by Olga Guryakova, also making her debut at Covent Garden, but her powerful voice was regrettably screechy at times. This was altogether a fine cast, and Sergei Leiferkus sang glowingly in the relatively small role of ‘his highness’, who provides Vakula with the Tsarina’s slippers.

It’s a new production that should appeal to anyone with an appreciation for Tchaikovsky, Russian opera, or indeed magical realism in the great Slavic tradition. The only problem is that it was sold out before the first night!

Our Man in Havana, Richmond Theatre, November 2009

This novel by Graham Greene, adapted for the stage by Clive Francis and directed by Richard Baron, is about a British secret agent in pre-Castro Cuba, whose reports and informers are all inventions. As a vacuum cleaner salesman in need of money, he allows himself to be recruited by the secret services, and feeds them ingenious plots and conspiracies, which he tries to back up with real events, leading to near-disaster. Putting this on stage is not easy, but Clive Francis has the experience of playing in Travels with my Aunt, another Graham Greene adaptation, and like that play this uses only four actors, playing multiple parts. The main character, Wormold (our man in Havana) was very well performed by Simon Shepherd, while Philip Franks, Norman Pace and Beth Cordingly played the other roles. They did brilliantly well, and how they managed the multiple costume changes, lord alone knows. It was like a conjuring trick, and the audience loved it. This play is a comedy, and a reminder of how gross incompetence can be rewarded by Whitehall when it suits them to avoid admitting errors and rank stupidity.

Review — Royal Ballet Triple Bill: Agon, Sphinx, and Limen, 13th November 2009

This was a second visit, my first being on opening night. The dancers were the same, partly because of injury, although Sphinx should have had an entirely new cast. But this time I was close to the stage in the Stalls Circle, so things looked different. I’ll say nothing further about Agon, but make a few more notes about Sphinx and Limen.

In Egypt sphinxes represented power and vigilance, guarding temples. In Greece however there was but one mythological sphinx, represented with a female head and breasts, lion’s body, eagle’s wings and serpent-headed tail. In short a monster that was said to guard the city of Thebes, killing any traveller who could not solve the riddle it asked. In Cocteau’s 1934 play La machine infernale the Sphinx challenges her own destiny. Weary of immortality she desires love and freedom, and takes the guise of a young woman. She falls in love with Oedipus and tells him the answer to the riddle, enabling him to continue to Thebes and follow his destiny. In the ballet, Anubis is the guardian of the Sphinx, warning her against falling for Oedipus, and the choreography by Glen Tetley is for these three. He saw Cocteau’s play in New York in 1950, and that is what inspired him to create this ballet. Once again Edward Watson was immensely powerful as Anubis, and Marianela Nuñez was a superb Sphinx, but from close up Rupert Pennefather was disappointing. He seemed to be going through the correct motions, but the dance didn’t come from within. In a part like this he needs a greater identification with the character, so he can own the role.

Wayne McGregor’s new ballet Limen is in two parts, and I liked the first half with the bright costume tops. These disappear in the second half where the lighting is low and the on-again off-again blue lights distract from the action. In the dim light some of the dancers are stationary with their backs to the audience, while one or two dance around them. Apart from the fact that the screen came to the front with its lights mostly on, there was no resolution, but I would have preferred one, particularly since this was the last work of the evening.

Review — Cyrano, Birmingham Royal Ballet, at Sadler’s Wells, November 2009.

 

 

This is the second of two ballet programmes by the BRB at Sadler’s Wells, the other one being a triple bill called Quantum Leaps.

Cyrano was originally created by David Bintley for the Royal Ballet in 1991, but this new version for the Birmingham Royal Ballet has a completely new score by Carl Davis. The music is atmospheric, well suiting Bintley’s ballet, which is based on the 1897 play Cyrano de Bergerac by Edmond Rostand. It’s about a noble seventeenth century fellow named Cyrano with a horribly long nose, who is in love with his cousin Roxane. She in turn is interested in the callow young cadet Christian, and the plot is complicated by the fact that her guardian, the Comte de Guiche intends to marry her himself. Roxane asks Cyrano to deliver a love letter to Christian, and since the young fellow can’t read or write he asks Cyrano to write to Roxane on his behalf. The scene is then set for Roxane to fall helplessly in love with the letter writer whom she believes to be Christian. De Guiche manipulates events so that Christian is killed in battle, and Roxane then enters a convent in despair. She sees her cousin, Cyrano regularly, not knowing he is seriously wounded, nor that he loves her and has written all those beautiful letters. When she finds out, it’s too late and he dies in her arms.

Robert Parker was superb as Cyrano, with strong stage presence, precision in dancing, ability to express emotions, and playing well with the humorous parts. Elisha Willis was an utterly charming Roxane and her pas-de-deux with Cyrano in Act I was beautifully performed. This is a lovely piece of choreography, where she teasingly holds on to the letter she’s written. The supporting dancers all did well, with Iain Mackay as Christian, Chi Cao as Cyrano’s aide Le Bret, Christopher Larsen as Ragueneau the baker, Dominic Antonucci as the horrid De Guiche, and Marion Tait as the Duenna, who looks after Roxane. It’s always a pleasure to see her on stage, with her fine musicality. This is a ballet with plenty of ensemble dance for the men, and they performed it extremely well.

The designs by Hayden Griffin are wonderful, and I loved Roxane’s costumes. The fights, directed by Malcolm Ranson, were entertaining, but suffered from the usual weakness of people dropping dead without any apparent blow being struck. It was all very effectively lit by Mark Jonathan, and very well conducted by Wolfgang Heinz. Altogether this is a ballet to appeal to those who like a good story, and after a slow beginning it picked up later and the use of mime was very cleverly done. In fact it’s rather remarkable to turn into dance a story about a man who is good with words, but I think Bintley has succeeded.

Quantum Leaps, Birmingham Royal Ballet, BRB at Sadler’s Wells, November 2009 — Powder, E=mc2, and The Centre and its Opposite

In this triple bill each work was a team effort, and the dancers performed superbly. The sequence of ballets was well-judged and made a great evening of dance.

The first item, Powder was a revival of a 1998 ballet by Stanton Welch, an Australian-born choreographer who is now artistic director of Houston Ballet. It’s a sensuous use of dance to accompany Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto in A major, completed shortly before his death. The seven couples were led by Natasha Oughtred and Robert Parker. She was beautifully musical, vulnerable and sexy, well supported by her partner, and by Victoria Marr and Ambra Vallo as the other principal girls. The costumes by Kandis Cook — tight shorts for the men, and long chiffon skirts with various satin bodices for the women — were admirably sensual, and the subtle lighting by Mark Jonathan was very effective. The long sweeping motions in the choreography made this work the gentlest of the three and the right one to start with.

The second ballet, named after Einstein’s equation E = mc², was the main focus of the evening for me. It’s a new work by artistic director David Bintley, in four movements each with strongly rhythmic music specially commissioned from Australian composer Matthew Hindson. The first movement represents energy — the E in the equation — and was vibrantly physical. The energy represented here is the chaotic energy of the Big Bang, and I particularly liked the sextet of men, which showed immense power amid the rhythmic chaos. The second movement represents mass — the m in the equation — and is a complete contrast to the energy movement, reflecting the fact that we perceive mass and energy to be quite different, despite Einstein’s equation showing they are manifestations of the same thing. The sudden transformation of mass to energy informed the third movement, representing the dropping of two atomic bombs in World War II. This was demonstrated by powerful sound effects and a single white-faced dancer, Samara Downs in a kimono and with a large fan. Then came the fourth movement with a square array of lights on a screen at the back of the stage gradually becoming visible. This was the c² of the equation — c being the speed of light. The choreography here was particularly inventive, extremely well performed, and fascinating to watch. There was no physical set, and changes of mood were signified by Peter Mumford’s clever lighting, with sudden shafts of light streaking across stage. Costumes by Kate Ford were different for each part, and I particularly liked those for the second movement with their sombre colours and black shorts for the men. Altogether this four-part ballet was a feast of ideas, and I look forward to seeing it again.

The final item on the programme — The Centre and its Opposite — was a new work by Garry Stewart, artistic director of Australian Dance Theatre. It was extremely physical with unusual movements not normally seen from a ballet company, and was performed to electronic music by another Australian, Huey Benjamin. There were unusual rhythmic elements in the music, as befits a composer who has performed widely as a drummer. The set comprised vertical light strips round the edges and horizontal ones above, designed by Michael Mannion, and the tight grey costumes with black hgihlights were cleverly designed by Georg Meyer-Wiel. The audience reaction to this last item of the evening was strongly positive, though I found the new ballet by David Bintley to be the most interesting item in the programme.

Turandot, Metropolitan Opera live relay, November 2009

This Franco Zeffirelli production is wonderful. The sets by Zeffirelli himself, along with costume designs by Anna Anni and Dada Saligeri, give a sense of power and magnificence, while the predominantly dark lighting by Gil Wechsler gives a sense of menace. All one then needs is a good conductor and fine singers, and here we were excellently served by Andris Nelsons in the orchestra pit, and Maria Guleghina and Marcello Giordani in the main parts of Turandot and Calaf. With her great stage presence and powerful voice, Ms. Guleghina portrayed Turandot to perfection, and interacted superbly with Giordani. His evident determination to crack the riddles, showing uncertainty before working out the answers, was admirably done, and despite a brief loss of pitch in Act II he sang heroically, rendering Nessun dorma with perfect timing and build-up.

The supporting role of Calaf’s father Timur was sensitively portrayed by Samuel Ramey, and the bravely faithful Liu was beautifully sung and acted by Marina Poplavskaya. I particularly liked the way Charles Anthony portrayed the emperor, singing with wonderful Chinese intonation, and one of the intermission features by Patricia Racette was an interview with Anthony, who told us he first sang at the Met in 1954, and that his real family name was Caruso. What a superbly appropriate fact, since the opera is concerned with finding out the prince’s real name. But that was just icing on the cake, because this opera was brilliantly performed. And it shows the Met to be setting a template for opera performance that puts into a shadow some of the more confusing and hyper-intellectual nonsense that one occasionally meets. Thank you Metropolitan Opera!