Antigone, National Theatre, NT, May 2012

The story behind this play is that before he died, Oedipus cursed his sons, and they ended up killing one another in a battle for Thebes. The city is now ruled by Creon, brother to Oedipus’s mother/wife Jocasta.

Antigone and Ismene, all images NT/ Johan Persson

Creon has commanded that one of the two dead brothers — he who ruled the city and exiled his brother — be honoured, while the other lies outside the city walls to be devoured by carrion. Their sisters, Antigone and Ismene appear at the start of Sophocles’ Antigone, outside the walls, with Antigone asking her sister’s support in giving her brother a burial. This yields a clash between familial obligations and the rule of the State, represented by Creon. The theme is timeless, and in Polly Findlay’s production it is staged in modern dress.

The set, with Creon’s office at its centre and various desks in a large common area to the front, can be rotated to show the outside of the city walls. Good designs by Soutra Gilmour, darkly lit by Mark Henderson and with occasional threatening musical crescendos by Dan Jones. But what of the acting?

Jodie Whittaker was a strongly sympathetic Antigone, and Luke Newberry as Creon’s son Haemon, was superb at respectfully, and then less respectfully, countering his father’s arguments. He loves Antigone, is betrothed to her, and the two of them were the heroes, defying the tyrant’s power, but I would have preferred a more nuanced treatment by the director. There are serious issues here about the right of the individual to challenge the power of the state, and Sophocles has given eloquent arguments to both sides.

Antigone bundled away

Christopher Eccleston played Creon as a harsh tyrant, looking like a cross between Vladimir Putin of Russia and Bashir Assad of Syria. Perhaps that was the intention, but his downfall lies not in his initial decision to deny burial to one brother but his stiff-necked refusal to ignore well-meaning advice. As it was he looked like a loser from the start, his eloquence turning to rants. When Jamie Ballard as the blind seer Teiresias enters, he too ends up ranting, which rather spoils the effect. Towards the end, Kobna Holdbrook-Smith held the stage brilliantly as the messenger, delivering news of Antigone’s death and Creon’s final clash with his son.

The mixture of accents, some of which sounded unnatural, did not help, but Antigone is always worth seeing, and I liked the sets, costumes, music and lighting.

Performances continue until July 21 — for details click here.

The Flying Dutchman, English National Opera, ENO, London Coliseum, April 2012

Sudden darkness in the auditorium … the orchestra struck up, and we were treated to great power and sensitivity from the baton of Edward Gardner. The silences were silent, the quiet passages quiet, and the loud passages with the chorus came over with huge force.

All images by Robert Workman

This new production by Jonathan Kent starts in the overture with a little girl being put to bed by her father Daland the sea captain. She dreams of the sea … the wild, windy sea, shown in video projections designed by Nina Dunn. Then as the opera gets underway we see huge designs by Paul Brown filling the stage from top to bottom, with lighting by Mark Henderson embracing the video effects and giving beautiful colour changes during Daland’s lyrical dialogue with his daughter, when salvation beckons.

Clive Bayley as Daland

In the end when the Dutchman chides his would-be saviour, Senta for her apparent unfaithfulness he silently vanishes from the party throng, she smashes a bottle . . . and it’s all over. She dies and he is redeemed.

Entrance of the Dutchman

James Creswell as the Dutchman exhibited superb restraint and nobility, both in voice and stage presence, and with Clive Bayley portraying Daland as an engagingly earnest father to Senta, this was a cast rich in wonderful bass tones. At the higher register, Stuart Skelton was a brilliant Erik, the young man in love with Senta. He is a star in the ENO firmament. As Senta herself, Orla Boylan gave a somewhat uneven vocal performance with some strong moments but a flaccid stage-presence.

Senta at the party

The Dutchman has been wandering the planet for countless years, and in Jonathan Kent’s production we see him dressed in a costume from two hundred years ago, contrasting with the girls working in a modern assembly shop where a costume party turns wild, threatening a gang rape of Senta . . . but suddenly the Dutchman’s ghostly crew sing powerfully from off-stage, scaring the living daylights out of the revellers. This is the same director who has produced Sweeney Todd now playing in the West End, so perhaps a bit of the Sweeney darkness has invaded Wagner, but that’s no bad thing, and the chorus carried it off superbly. They were wonderful.

The Flying Dutchman is the first of Wagner’s operas in the regular canon of ten, and this was the first time Edward Gardner has conducted any of them. I look forward to more!

Performances continue until May 23 — for details click here.

Long Day’s Journey into Night, Apollo Theatre, London West End, April 2012

Had Eugene O’Neill’s written wishes been respected this autobiographical play would not be staged: “[It] is to be published twenty five years after my death — but never produced as a play”. As it was, unforeseen circumstances persuaded his widow to have the play published and performed, knowing the anguish he had gone through in writing it.

Suchet and Metcalf as father and mother, all images Johan Persson

The essentials involve a father, mother and two sons, the younger one appearing likely to die of tuberculosis. Yet despite this grim set-up, where the father and sons drink liberal amounts of whiskey, and the mother is a neurotic addicted to drugs, there is hope. And amidst the arguments, the shouting, the put-downs, and the face slapping there is truth. At the start of part two when evening has drawn in, David Suchet as the father James Tyrone, is alone in the sitting room. He is joined by his younger son Edmund, whose criticism of his miserliness gets the response, “You’re no great shakes as a son”. This is mild compared to some of the invective, but then there is the glorious moment when Edmund talks about his time at sea, being at one with the forces of nature, and Kyle Soller handles it beautifully. As his father tells him facts from long ago, there is something more than just anger and argument. There is sympathy, and understanding that our problems stem from the depths of experiences long past.

White, Suchet, Soller as father and sons

Eugene O’Neill’s own father, the model for James Tyrone, was a matinee idol, and though devoted to Shakespeare he became typecast in a stage version of The Count of Monte Cristo. Despite the financial success and security this brought him he had reason to feel dissatisfied with himself, yet seems to be surrounded by wastrel sons and a morphine addicted wife, who’s eventually away with the fairies. She was beautifully played by American actress Laurie Metcalf as a gentle, yet neurotic and self-pitying woman. It was a remarkable performance, and her eldest son James Jr was robustly portrayed by Trevor White, whose drunkenness in part two was pitch perfect. Very high quality acting from the whole cast, led by David Suchet’s sympathetic and convincing portrayal of the father, and with a lovely cameo by Rosie Sansom as the maid.

It may not be a comfortable evening in the theatre for those of us who have seen family problems at first hand, but I left with a sense of optimism knowing that Eugene O’Neill as the younger son survived the tuberculosis. He then went on to survive the other three who all died within three years of one another.  Direction by Anthony Page brought this disturbing drama to life, helped by the excellent designs and lighting of Lez Brotherston and Mark Henderson.

This is theatre at its best, and performances continue until August 18 — for details click here.

Sweeney Todd, Adelphi Theatre, London’s West End, March 2012

Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord, yet it’s a dictate usually unheeded, and like Verdi’s Rigoletto, Sweeney Todd’s actions lead to the death of the woman he holds most dear.

The last time I saw this musical drama by Stephen Sondheim was in Chicago with Bryn Terfel as the eponymous character. It was performed at the Lyric Opera House, a vast auditorium seating over three and a half thousand, and Terfel was brilliant of course, but the smaller space at the Adelphi suits this musical work very well, providing a more intense experience. The curved rear of the set made me feel part of the action in this dark staging that uses the full space and height available.

This fine production by Jonathan Kent, with designs by Anthony Ward, was seen at the Chichester Festival Theatre last summer, and transfers the action from the Victorian era to 1930s London. The darkly atmospheric lighting by Mark Henderson cleverly portrays Sweeney in a different glow from other characters, and provides an air of mystery to the ovens and meat processing area in the basement.

Imelda Staunton and Michael Ball, image Tristram Kenton

Before the prologue we see a darkish stage with cleaners wiping the floors, and clattering and banging going on, when suddenly … the ballad breaks forth. In the end we are back to the same scene, having witnessed an extraordinary story of vengeance, with Michael Ball as a grippingly effective Sweeney, and Imelda Staunton as a plain, homely, yet secretly spooky Mrs Lovett, her dream of a place by the sea beautifully sung.

The supporting roles were all well cast, with tenor Robert Burt as the Italian barber and Dr. Dulcamara-like character Pirelli, and John Bowe and Peter Polycarpou very fine in the villainous pairing of Judge Turpin and the Beadle. James McConville was a wonderfully scraggy yet forceful Tobias, and the other characters all looked and acted their parts as if born to the roles. My only complaint is a few times when the chorus sang together the sound could be deafening, but as a gripping tale, well told, this is hard to beat. The visual effects are excellent yet never get in the way of the story.

Performances continue until September 22 — for details click here, and for cheap tickets here.

The Turn of the Screw, Glyndebourne, August 2011

The clarity of this production, and this performance, was exceptional. From the first words of the Prologue to the last words of the drama when the Governess asks the limp body of Miles, “What have we done between us?”, the whole story was laid bare.

Governess and children, all photos by Alastair Muir

The scene with the governess travelling by train to the big house where she will look after the two children was beautifully done, with projections of moving countryside through train windows. You feel for the governess, for her uncertainty, “If things go wrong, what shall I do? Who can I ask, with none of my own kind to talk to?”

Flora and Miss Jessel, Miles and Quint

The central feature of this Jonathan Kent production is a large frame of windows, including a French window, that can revolve, be lifted, and rotated out of their frame. The windows help separate the world of normality from otherworldly forces, and in the scene at the lake they lie horizontally over the body of Miss Jessel, as if she were under water before rising up to spook the governess. The previous death of Miss Jessel and Peter Quint is represented partly by branches of a dead tree where Quint sits when he urges Miles to steal the letter, and the many scenes in this opera are formed by bringing stage props together by rotating various annular regions of the stage, sometimes in opposite directions. These are clever designs by Paul Brown, helped by Mark Henderson’s lighting, and I particularly liked the final scene of Act I where Miles is in the bath and Flora is washing her hair. She puts her head in the basin and remains utterly still while Quint appears to Miles. It’s as if time stands still. It’s as if these ghostly appearances exist in a wrinkle of time, inaccessible to Mrs. Grose the housekeeper, but they are disturbances that reveal themselves to receptive minds.

Governess and Miles

This is a chamber opera, with thirteen instrumentalists from the London Philharmonic playing beautifully under the direction of young Czech conductor, Jakub Hruša, the music director of Glyndebourne on Tour. The cast worked together as a team, all with excellent diction, and it’s impossible to pick out single brilliant performances. Toby Spence gave great clarity to the prologue and was a charismatic Quint; and Giselle Allen was a creepy looking Miss Jessel, with her long, untidy, black hair, and spine-tingling voice. Miah Persson was a wonderful governess, pretty and sure of voice, albeit plagued by anxiety, and Susan Bickley was strong and equally sure as Mrs. Grose. This wonderful team of adults was complemented by Joanna Songi as Flora and Thomas Parfitt as Miles. As a woman in her very early twenties, Ms Songi came over very well as a ten year old girl, and Thomas Parfitt played a boy of his own age (12) with superb clarity and voice control. This was as close to perfect a performance of Britten’s opera as one is ever likely to get, and is not to be missed.

 Performances continue until August 28 — for details click here.

Tosca, with Gheorghiu, Kaufmann, and Terfel, Royal Opera, Covent Garden, July 2011

The orchestra, under brilliant direction by Antonio Pappano, started with a bang and the tension kept up throughout. Lukas Jakobski made a strong entrance as the escaped prisoner Angelotti, and as he left, Jeremy White came on as a humble Sacristan followed by a madding crowd of children. All very good theatre, before Cavaradossi enters, climbs to his platform, and takes up his paints. Then as I was beginning to daydream I was pulled up short by the voice of a god — Jonas Kaufmann launching into Recondita armonia. This was . . . . well, words fail me. The performance suddenly hit a higher level. Kaufmann was fabulous, well matched by Angela Gheorghiu as Tosca, showing superb quiet notes. This was a woman in love with Cavaradossi, rather than a prima donna, and she kept up the almost understated portrayal throughout. It was very effective.

The Sacristan and children

In this Jonathan Kent production, Act I takes place on two levels and towards the end of the act, as Scarpia is singing near the Attavanti chapel, a crowd of people enter at the upper level. The lighting design by Mark Henderson works particularly well here, and watching the congregation, I noticed the bishop cross himself in time to the music. It’s only a small detail, but getting the details right help a performance come to life — and this was a performance to treasure.

Kaufmann and Terfel

Bryn Terfel’s portrayal of Scarpia showed him to be a thoroughly nasty piece of work, and at the start of Act II we see a man determined to pursue his prey, even though he serves a regime that’s about to fall to Napoleon’s forces. His soliloquies were beautifully delivered, yet when Spoletta — strongly sung by Hubert Francis — enters, Scarpia’s aggressive nature reasserts itself as he knocks the fellow over. Act II swept forward, and the dragging off of Cavaradossi after his Vittoria! Vittoria! was a hugely powerful moment. There were also lovely moments of silence, which helped raise the tension, such as when Ms. Gheorghiu launched into Vissi d’arte. After her beautiful rendering of this aria, Scarpia gave her a slow handclap — a nice touch. Her killing of him, her movements and her placing of the candles, was perfect and I had to remind myself this is an opera and she’s actually gearing everything to musical cues. It all seemed so real I wanted to tell her to get a move on and get away.

With E lucevan le stelle in Act III, Kaufmann started calmly, but by the time he hit the last line E non ho amato mai tanto la vita! (And never have I loved life so much!) his emotion flew from the stage to embrace the audience. The shots from the firing squad sounded like hell, and after Tosca jumped to her death, Spoletta calmly walked forward as the curtain comes down. The menace is still there, and one urgently waits for Napoleon’s forces to arrive.

Pappano’s conducting was nothing short of superb, and a more emotional evening one could not wish for. But one small thing occurred to me during Act I, a mere quibble with the libretto, and I only mention it for Tosca buffs. When Tosca and Cavaradossi agree to meet later she sings E luna piena (the moon is full), but Sardou sets his play specifically on 17 June 1800 when Napoleon’s forces have just won the battle of Marengo. Full moon was on 7 June that year, so the moon would be in the last quarter and have risen only an hour or two before dawn. Yes, I know . . . it’s artistic license, but I’ve never seen this mentioned before, so I thought it worth a comment.

There are only two performances with this cast, so beg, borrow or steal to get a ticket for the final performance on June 17 when the present run of Tosca will close — for more details click here.

Tosca, Royal Opera, Covent Garden, June 2011

Sex, politics and religion — heady stuff when Sarah Bernhardt played the title character in Sardou’s 1887 play La Tosca, and Puccini saw her do it. He immediately wanted to turn the play into an opera, but there were problems with the rights, and he was soon busy with Manon Lescaut and then La Bohème. Eventually he managed to return to Sardou’s play and in January 1900 produced one of the greatest operas ever.

As Floria Tosca in this performance, Martina Serafin sang and acted beautifully, and Marcello Giordani was a superb Cavaradossi. Unfortunately in the dress rehearsal I attended, Juha Uusitalo was disappointing as Scarpia. I admired him immensely in October 2008 as Jokanaan in the Met’s Salome, but here he was strangely lacking in stage presence, and failed to exhibit the menace that this forceful and much feared police chief should have. After all this is based on real events, and Sardou specifically set the action during a period of less than 24 hours, from 17 June 1800 to dawn on June 18, when Napoleon was about to liberate Rome from the rule of Naples.

The two levels in Act I with Scarpia in the foreground.

This political and personal drama is well served by Jonathan Kent’s production with its designs by Paul Brown, and well aided by Mark Henderson’s lighting, which starts very darkly in all three acts before gradually brightening, suiting the theatrical development in each case. The production has one or two unusual aspects: Act I is set on two levels, allowing Scarpia to sing on his own near the Attavanti chapel, while the choir and congregation are on the upper (ground) level; and in Act II after Tosca has killed Scarpia she finds the letter of safe-conduct not in his hand, but in the breast pocket of his jacket, stained with blood.

Martina Serafin as Tosca at the end of Act II

Scarpia’s henchman, Spoletta was brilliantly sung by Hubert Francis, whose acting and presence were stronger than that of his master, and the Sacristan in Act I was superbly portrayed by Jeremy White. These excellent performances of minor characters bring huge authenticity to the drama, but the main plaudits go of course to Serafin and Giordani, along with Antonio Pappano in the orchestra pit. Act III starts beautifully quietly — this is wonderful music, and Pappano directed it with immense sensitivity — but the repeated coughs in the audience were distracting. The Royal Opera House needs to think how they might alleviate this irritating problem — how would they manage it if this were a live cinema relay?

Performances of Tosca with the current cast continue until June 30, followed by two further performances on July 14 and 17 with Angela Gheorghiu as Tosca, Jonas Kaufman as Cavaradossi and Bryn Terfel as Scarpia — for details click here.

I shall report on the Gheorghiu/ Kaufman/ Terfel cast after the July 14 performance.

A Month in the Country, Chichester Festival Theatre, October 2010

At the end of this Turgenev play most people depart, leaving Natalya alone in her boredom and unhappy marriage.

Janie Dee and Michael Feast as Natalya and Rakitin

In the meantime it always looks as if things might work out more happily, particularly if Natalya’s relationship with Rakitin — who adores her and lives in the household — can stabilise itself. Rakitin is the character closest to Turgenev himself, who enjoyed a forty-year relationship with the celebrated singer Pauline Viardot, even living in her household, and Michael Feast played the part superbly. Utterly convincing, he elicited my sympathies, as did Phoebe Fox as Natalya’s foster-daughter. She gave a beautiful portrayal of intelligence and sincerity in the face of Janie Dee’s mercurial and histrionic Natalya, showing a woman scarcely under control as she battles with her repressed desire for the young tutor who has been with the family for less than a month.

Jonathan Coy gave a fine portrayal of Natalya’s husband Arkady, who simply doesn’t grasp what’s going on, and Joanna McCallum was excellent as his widowed mother, delivering her final speech with superb gravitas and sensitivity. Kenneth Cranham was wittily absurd as the local doctor, speaking with evident conviction when he describes himself as a “bitter, cunning, angry peasant”. This doctor is happy to avail himself of the opportunity to dine in the pleasant surroundings of the estate, well represented in Paul Brown’s designs with excellent lighting by Mark Henderson. The slightly worn appearance of the house helped give a sense of impending doom, and as Donald Rayfield writes in the programme, “after . . . watching A Month in the Country you realise quite how painful is the catastrophe that has struck the characters”.

Will the new tutor enliven everyone’s life, or cause everything to crash to the ground?

Of course the catalyst for this catastrophe is the young tutor, supposedly a lively and attractive young man, but played here by James McArdle as an unattractive Scottish oik. Was that the director’s intention, or simply the actor’s natural inclination? In any case it seemed odd that either Natalya or Vera could fall for this fellow — but with that one reservation aside this Jonathan Kent production gave a convincing sense of the underlying emotions fuelling the slow-motion train wreck into which some of these characters are propelling the others.

Performances of this Brian Friel adaptation of Turgenev’s play continue until October 16.

Don Giovanni, Glyndebourne, July 2010

This production starts with a bang. The audience, seated in a lighted auditorium, is suddenly plunged into blackness as the first chord comes thundering from the orchestra. Then as the stage gradually lights up during the overture we see a cubical building of stone slowly rotating, showing different facets, and I thought of Dr. Who’s tardis. This turned out to be right on the mark, as the building later opens out to reveal various sets, the last of which shows a long table adorned for dining in a raked and dissolute room. The Commendatore appears from beneath, and drags the Don to hell at the front of the stage. This Jonathan Kent production is cleverly lit by Mark Henderson, and the designs by Paul Brown suggest a spooked version of La Dolce Vita in late 1950s Italy.

The End of the Party in Act I, Glyndebourne photo by Bill Cooper

Within this context, Gerald Finley is the perfect Don, suave and brutal. His killing of the Commendatore is done by dragging him to ground and clobbering him with a brick. After that, both he and Luca Pisaroni as Leporello performed with an insouciance that gave the impression either one would happily shop the other if push came to shove. Their singing had a clarity and attack that made them seem a nasty pair of scoundrels, and with such performances the rest of the cast could be almost passengers, yet there was some excellent support.

The Don with Zerlina, photo by Bill Cooper

Guido Loconsolo performed well as an unusually assertive Masetto, with his two-tone shoes and youthful physicality, and Anna Virovlansky as Zerlina was prettily seductive and absolutely infuriating in her flippant responses to him. Kate Royal sang well as a mousey Donna Elvira, still in love with the Don but clearly incapable of attracting his attentions, apart from her angry assertions of his callous inconstancy, and William Burden was a very fine Don Ottavio, restrained yet powerful. Brindley Sherratt sang well as the Commendatore, and Anna Samuil did her own thing as Donna Anna, singing out strongly for her fans in the audience, yet never quite integrating with the rest of the cast.

The Commendatore crushes the Don, photo by Bill Cooper

This was, at least for me, a super production, and the first orchestral bang at the start was followed by another when the wedding party suddenly poured forth from the cubical structure, and a third at the start of Act II. My only complaint was that the Act II fight where the Don beats up Masetto was poorly done — the blow knocking Masetto to the ground was very wide of the mark — but this is something that should be rehearsed by fight director Alison de Burgh before every performance. However, Vladimir Jurowski did a superb job with the orchestra, which played with immense feeling for the light and shade of Mozart’s score.

Performances continue until 27th August.