Category: Opera

The cast of The Gondoliers

REVIEW: The Gondoliers

Published on by Natalie BorensteinLeave a comment

Rating: 4 out of 5.

A ritzy riot of an opera

The English Touring Opera’s production of The Gondoliers, staged at Hackney Empire on the 11th of April, was colourful, flamboyant and immensely entertaining. Composed by Gilbert and Sullivan in 1889, the Victorian-era comic opera oscillates between lively political satire and unbridled farce. For those unfamiliar with its topsy-turvy plot, the opera follows the journey of two ‘republican’ gondoliers who are suddenly informed by the Grand Inquisitor of Spain, Don Alhambra del Bolero, that one of them (but he does not yet know which) is the long-lost heir of Barataria; and not only is he the heir, but he was also secretly married, as an infant, to the Duke of Plaza Toro’s daughter, Casilda. Upon hearing the Grand Inquisitor’s surprising news, the gondolier brothers swiftly accept their royal status and travel to Barataria to rule the kingdom jointly until the true heir is revealed, leaving their new wives behind. However, since they are still ‘republicans’ at heart, they insist on ‘a monarchy tempered with Republican equality’, a system so impractical that it quickly exhausts both itself and its creators.

The Gondoliers is an opera with an unwieldy, somewhat ridiculous narrative, and the ETO did well to stage a production that was lucid as well as joyous. Every scene was distinctive and full of character, which helped to ground and energise the whole. In the opening chorus, the young maidens (Contadine) were fantastically saccharine while proclaiming their love for the handsome gondoliers, surrounded by a sea of artificial roses and picturesque bridges. Likewise, in the Cachucha, every performer threw themselves into an amazingly energetic dance routine, each singer as passionate and rhythmic with their ribbon-adorned tambourines as any seasoned Spanish dancer. Such moments, brimful of enthusiasm, are precisely what made this opera so lively and enjoyable to watch. They also compensated for some weaker patches in the production, where musical technique was less than perfect. For instance, in more challenging passages, singers occasionally fell out of time with the orchestra, and over the course of the evening it became apparent that one or two soloists were not as confident at projecting their voices in a big space. Thankfully, many of these minor defects were easily overlooked because of the production’s overall entertainment value.

There were also a number of incredibly talented performers in The Gondoliers. Especially captivating were: the Duke, the Duchess, Casilda and Don Alhambra del Bolero. Lauren Young’s brazen performance of ‘On the Day When I Was Wedded’ was greeted with loud, spontaneous applause – and for good reason. She is not only an excellent mezzo, but also a great comic actress. Any supercilious Duke would unquestionably be tamed by such a Duchess. Insignificant progenitors of England, beware! The same was also true of Kelli-Ann Masterson, the capable soprano who played Casilda (the Duke’s daughter). Her vocal tone and range were consistently impressive, and her knack for comedy no less so. In her duet with George Robarts (Luiz), Masterson leaned into the modern, raunchy humour that punctuated the ETO’s spring production. ‘Recollecting’ embraces assumed a whole new meaning! There was just enough innuendo for it to be funny, but not so much that it became vulgar and overdone: perfect for a British audience with a taste for the wittily, judiciously inappropriate. If they were still around today, Gilbert and Sullivan would have had a ball at Hackney Empire this weekend. Even if some improvements could still be made to further refine the production, The Gondoliers did exactly what you would expect of a comic opera: it showed the audience a good time.

This show runs at Hackney Empire until Y. Tickets here.

REVIEW: The Marriage of Figaro

Published on by Lucy C2 Comments

Rating: 4 out of 5.

an accessible and visually impressive production that brings Mozart’s classic opera to life

Opera North’s new production of The Marriage of Figaro brings Mozart’s well known opera into a setting that feels both familiar and refreshed. The original work was composed by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart with a libretto by Lorenzo Da Ponte and has remained popular for centuries thanks to its lively story and memorable score. This new staging keeps the heart of the opera intact while placing the action inside a modern country house. It feels like a thoughtful update that makes the piece approachable without losing what makes it such a classic.

Director Louisa Muller’s staging makes good use of the country house setting. The production moves at a steady pace and the staging allows the characters to move naturally through the space. The set design by Madeleine Boyd was particularly impressive. Each part of the house felt distinct and carefully considered. The boot room filled with coats and wellies immediately sets the tone, while later scenes reveal other areas of the house that feel just as detailed. The transitions between acts were smooth and the set never felt static. It gave the sense of a real household rather than just a theatrical backdrop.

One of the real stand out performances of the evening came from Hongni Wu as Cherubino. The character brings a burst of energy to the stage and Wu’s performance captures that restless personality perfectly. The role requires both strong vocal control and physical presence, and Wu delivers both. Cherubino’s appearances were some of the most engaging moments of the evening and the audience response reflected that.

The music is led by conductor Valentina Peleggi with the Orchestra of Opera North performing live. Even as someone new to opera it was easy to appreciate the richness of Mozart’s score. The orchestra carries the production forward and supports the singers without ever overpowering them. The balance between stage and orchestra felt carefully managed and allowed the music to remain the centre of the experience.

What stood out most was how welcoming the production felt for someone watching opera for the first time. The staging keeps things clear and the performances help guide the audience through the story. By the end it was easy to see why The Marriage of Figaro continues to be performed so widely. It is a lively production with strong performances and an impressive visual setting.

The Marriage of Figaro continues its Opera North tour following its performances at The Lowry, Salford Quays, with the run concluding at Hull New Theatre on 28 March.

Picture from Royal Academy of Music

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Agustín Pennino

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We sat down for an exclusive interview with countertenor Agustín Pennino, who is sharing the title role of Rinaldo with mezzo-soprano Ella Orehek-Coddington.

Amid a holy war, crusader Rinaldo must overcome sorcery, deception and his own inner struggle to save the woman he loves.

First performed in London in 1711, Rinaldo marked the beginning of Handel’s prolific career in England and features some of the composer’s most famous arias.

This show runs from 17-20th March 2026 at the Royal Academy of Music. It is currently sold out, but you can join the waitlist here.

Handel demands both athletic vocalism and emotional refinement. What
aspects of Rinaldo have challenged you most as a countertenor, and
where do you feel the role allows you the greatest expressive freedom?

For me, the greatest challenge lies in finding expression within the coloratura. The paradox of Handel is that the more notes there are, the more expressive responsibility you have. Coloratura in this repertoire is not decorative — it is a very precise, baroque way of expressing a determinate emotional state.

The real difficulty comes in the bravura arias: maintaining absolute technical clarity while staying emotionally connected. It’s easy to focus on the athletic side, but the true challenge is keeping the emotional intention alive inside that virtuosity. When it works, that’s also where the role gives the greatest freedom.

Rinaldo is a hero shaped as much by vulnerability as by bravery. How are you approaching the psychological arc of the character, particularly in moments like “Cara sposa,” where strength gives way to grief?

I always try to approach characters through modern, natural human reactions, because that’s how we truly connect with an audience today. What Rinaldo gives us is actually something very familiar.

At the beginning, Rinaldo believes he is winning the war. He presents himself as someone invincible — someone who will always fulfil his duty, no matter what. He is strong, decisive, and certain of himself. But the kidnapping of his beloved breaks that image completely.

In that moment, Rinaldo uncovers a hidden side: the sensitive one, the one that is still a child, the one that is not used to losing. That vulnerability is deeply human. Even today, we often carry on with our responsibilities no matter what, hiding our most fragile parts so as not to appear weak. “Cara sposa” is the moment where that mask falls away, and that is what makes it so powerful.

Having performed Orfeo and Oreste, how does Rinaldo compare as a Handelian hero in terms of emotional temperature, vocal architecture, and dramatic stakes?

One of the defining features of Baroque music is repetition — and variation within repetition. As one of my mentors, Joyce DiDonato, beautifully describes it, this is the musical equivalent of the brain circling around the same thought. And that’s something profoundly human — we obsess, we replay emotions, we get stuck.

Although Baroque music may sound more structured than Gluck or Offenbach, it actually allows for a very internal and psychological journey. In Rinaldo, the dramatic stakes are extremely high, but they unfold inwardly. Every da capo is an opportunity to deepen the emotional temperature, not just repeat it. That makes the role both demanding and incredibly rich.

You trained across Uruguay, Italy, and now London. How have these
different operatic cultures shaped your interpretation of Baroque style
and ornamentation for Rinaldo?
Italy was similar in some ways: early music is more present than in Uruguay, but still not central. There, especially through competitions, I learned how to make ornamentation impressive and extravagant — the more daring, the better.

In Uruguay, early music is not widely performed, so at that stage I learned how to invent ornamentation from instinct. That creativity stayed with me — and even today, I still improvise some of my ornaments.

In the UK, however, I learned something crucial: how to simplify. How to connect ornamentation directly to emotional truth, rather than virtuosity for its own sake. Ornamentation here becomes psychological, not decorative — and that has deeply influenced how I approach Rinaldo.

As a member of the Royal Academy Opera 2025–27, how does
performing a title role at this stage of your career influence the way you
think about artistic risk, leadership on stage, and professional identity?

Being given a title role at this moment in my career forces me to trust myself more deeply. When you are still early in your professional path, there is often a tendency to want to “do things right” — to prove reliability, style, and discipline. A role like Rinaldo pushes you beyond that mindset. It demands personal choices, strong instincts, and the courage to stand behind them.

Artistic risk becomes less about doing something extreme, and more about committing fully— emotionally, vocally, and dramatically. You cannot hide in a title role. Every decision you make shapes the energy of the room, the pacing of the drama, and even how your colleagues feel supported on stage. That responsibility naturally creates leadership, even if you are not consciously trying to lead.

It has also made me think differently about professional identity. Rather than asking “What kind of singer am I supposed to be?”, this experience encourages me to ask “What kind of artist do I want to be?” — how I communicate, how I collaborate, and how honestly I allow myself to be seen. At this stage, performing a title role is not about arriving somewhere; it’s about defining the direction forward with greater confidence and self-awareness.

Rinaldo is often the audience’s gateway into Handel. What do you hope afirst-time listener will discover about the countertenor voice — andabout you as an artist — through this production?

I hope a first-time listener discovers that the countertenor voice is not just about sound or rarity, but about contrast. The contrast between virtuosity and vulnerability — where the fireworks are never there for their own sake, but always in service of feeling. I hope they hear how quickly the voice can move from something extremely intimate to something openly heroic, and how those shifts mirror the emotional world of the character.

I would also love for them to understand that ornamentation is not decoration. In this music, ornamentation is psychology. It reflects how a thought evolves, how an emotion insists, how the mind returns again and again to the same feeling. When it’s done truthfully, it brings us closer to the character, not further away.

On a personal level, I hope the audience senses my own connection to the role, rather than an attempt to present a “correct” or museum-like version of the style. I do study — and have studied — how this repertoire should be performed, but the composer is no longer here. At some point, the responsibility shifts to the performer (and of course, to the musical director) to make choices that feel honest and alive.

Through this production, I hope people hear something crafted to speak directly to modern audiences — something human, emotionally immediate, and present. If they leave feeling that this music belongs to them too, then I feel I’ve done my job.

REVIEW: Iolanthe

Published on by ayoungishperspective11 Comment

Rating: 3.5 out of 5.

A light-hearted production of a less frequently performed Gilbert and Sullivan

A Gilbert and Sullivan classic, Iolanthe was produced during the peak of the composers’ collaboration, opening on the same night in 1882 in both London and New York. This production joined the list of ‘Savoy Operas’, shows performed in the Savoy Theatre which was purposely built to showcase the work of the famed duo. 

With a run cut short in March 2020, today Iolanthe is performed in Wilton’s Music Hall by the company of Charles Court Opera. The story follows a classic tale of mistaken identity, with an extra dash of magic. Fairies are forbidden to marry mortals but Iolanthe has gone ahead and done so anyway, producing a half-fairy half-mortal son while she’s at it. General chaos ensues, with the story set in central London’s House of Lords. 

The ensemble is vocally strong, producing some glorious harmonies and articulating the often fast-paced lyrics with skill. Unfortunately, there is some considerable background over-acting which often serves to upstage the soloist, a shame when the singing is the highlight. 

Matthew Kellett is a magnificent Lord Chancellor, delivering on both comic timing and vocal prowess. His performance of ‘the nightmare song’ is well-paced and hilarious, eliciting well-deserved whoops of appreciation from the audience. Meriel Cunningham is a dominant yet cheeky Fairy Queen, with a beautifully unique voice commanding cast and audience attention alike. 

Gender-swapping a lord character to Lady Mountararat (Catrine Kirkman), we are treated to a fabulous Theresa May impression and some lovely vocals. Strangely, although this casting choice results in a lesbian relationship, director John Savournin completely shies away from the reality of this. While the male Earl and his female partner sit on each other’s laps and hold hands, the all-female pair stand stiffly side by side. If a gender swap is introduced, this disappointing same-sex relationship prudishness rather defeats the purpose. 

A very enthusiastic Charles Court Opera Chamber Orchestra is conducted rather noisily by David Eaton, producing a beautiful score at a fiery pace, with performers struggling to keep up at times. 

Set design by Rachel Szmukler is flexible and realistic, while costumes and makeup leave much to be desired. Fairies are dressed in anything from boxing boots to Dr Martens, with unexplained, newspaper-inspired costumes. The female cast members are made-up very heavy-handedly using an intense, fiery palette potentially with stage lights in mind, but this is not required for such an intimate venue. 

A comic opera well-suited to the current political times, Charles Court Opera presents an admiral revival. Iolanthe plays at Wilton’s Music Hall until February 28, 2026. 

REVIEW: ENO’s Cosi fan tutte

Published on by sarasioufi1Leave a comment

Rating: 4 out of 5.

Mozart’s most glittering social experiment arrives at the London Coliseum 

ENO’s production of Mozart’s Così fan tutte returns to the London Coliseum. ENO (English National Opera ) performs all its operas in English so audiences can understand the drama directly without linguistic barriers. ENO has had more new productions of Così fan tutte than any other Mozart opera, with good reason. There is something faintly disreputable about Così fan tutte, and ENO has the good sense not to disinfect it. Mozart’s most glittering social experiment arrives at the London Coliseum dressed as a mid-century pleasure park, all Coney Island lights and whirring amusements, as though fidelity itself were a sideshow attraction that might be won with sufficient nerve.

Phelim McDermott’s production, first seen more than a decade ago, remains durable. The production starts strong with a comedic tone. The performers hold up cards to set up the audience’s expectations. Its fairground frame does not so much update the opera as expose it. Così is all about spectacle: men in disguise, women performing virtue, a philosopher pulling strings. By relocating the action to a world of rollercoasters and carnival barkers, McDermott literalises the emotional vertigo. Love becomes something ridden for thrills, tested for endurance, abandoned when the ticket runs out.

ENO’s insistence on performing in English clarifies the cruelty. Da Ponte’s libretto, when understood in real time, is less a romp than a controlled demolition of romantic certainty. The recitatives crackle with calculation; the ensembles bloom with doubt. What emerges is not a comedy of manners but a study in mutual surveillance. Everyone watches everyone else. The audience, implicated, watches too. The Irish soprano Ailish Tynan stole the show as the hilarious maid Despina. Despina is pragmatic and holds cynical views on men, advising the sisters that soldiers are fickle and that they should “enjoy life” and Tynan captured her perfectly. 

Musically, the evening moves with a tensile brightness. The orchestra leans into Mozart’s mercurial shifts from silk to steel. Fiordiligi’s great aria does not simply scale its impossible intervals; it climbs them like a woman scaling the walls of her own conviction. Dorabella, warmer and quicker to yield, feels less frivolous than pragmatic. The men, so confident in their wager, shrink in proportion to their experiment. Don Alfonso, smiling, presides like a maître d’ of disillusion.

What lingers is not the carnival colour but the aftertaste. When the disguises fall away and the couples reassemble, the fairground lights glow with a slightly harsher wattage. One senses that nothing has been restored, only rearranged. The rollercoaster returns to its starting point, but the riders have learned the drop.

ENO’s Così does not argue that “all women are like that.” It suggests, more bleakly and more truthfully, that all of us are susceptible to performance when love becomes a test. In a house as large as the Coliseum, the opera’s final ensembles can feel almost symphonic. Here they feel intimate, as if the carnival has closed and the mirrors remain.

For dates and tickets, see here: Così fan tutte tickets and schedule at ENO’s official site (London Coliseum, 6–21 Feb 2026)

REVIEW: The Great Wave

Published on by Sam WLeave a comment

Rating: 3.5 out of 5.

The Great Wave rides the crest of technical achievement but fails to sustain the momentum and stick the landing

You have seen it before. Your friends and family have seen it. Everyone and their dogs have seen it. Whether in a museum, on someone’s tote bag, or on the walls of a sushi bar, The Great Wave off Kanagawa is instantly recognisable, an iconic work of art that is reproduced and plastered everywhere imaginable. And in 2026, everywhere imaginable includes on stage at a world premiere as the centrepiece of an ambitious, large-scale show.

Named after the artwork, The Great Wave is an opera about its creator, Katsushika Hokusai. A triumph of collaboration, it is composed and written by Dai Fujikura and Harry Ross respectively, and co-produced by Scottish Opera and KAJIMOTO. The Great Wave does not so much as follow his life as it gives us glimpses into it – and also to the beyond. Told in a nonlinear fashion, The Great Wave washes over you as an almost holistic experience, and it is with regret that you find yourself dry at the end of it.

With the heavyweights behind this production, it is almost guaranteed that you will be impressed by the technical expertise on display, and on display it is. Scenographer Junpei Kiz especially, tasked with reproducing Hokusai’s Wave, does a marvellous job. Faced with the double-edged sword of Wave being so etched into the audience’s mind, he nevertheless creates a masterful set-piece that both showcases the luscious Prussian blues and gives full force to the unstoppable waves, and also allows it to be easily adaptable, later doubling as a bamboo mat for one of Hokusai’s public art performances in a scene in Act II. Alongside this is the strong lighting design by Yuka Hisamatsu, with spotlights and shadows effectively deployed to create and manipulate distance, both physical and spiritual.

Hokusai in The Great Wave can sometimes appear to be detached from the happenings of his world as he lives in his art. This unfortunately translates to a disconnect with the audience too. You do not feel like you can truly understand the man as the character is less a man than an ideal, as if, in this retelling, his life has not just been mythologised but he has himself become part of the mythos – he is the Great Wave. While this is, in large parts, what is intended, it leaves you feeling a little cheated when you spend a significant portion of the running time with Hokusai and are not emotionally satisfied as a result.

Played by Daisuke Ohyama with great relish in his Scottish Opera debut, Hokusai stands for what he embraces around him, from nature to public adulation to constant change. Keeping him grounded throughout is his daughter, Ōi, sensitively played by Julieth Lozano Rolong,and it is this relationship that is the thread on which loosely connected, out-of-time scenes from Hokusai’s life is tethered to. Ōi is, in her own right, also an artist, and this is the bedrock of their relationship, as they exist in the same sphere of sensitivities. However, she is also more than just an artistic companion; she is his purpose and is, in a way, his – and The Great Wave’s – saving grace. Theirs is a tender relationship wherein they are artist and artist, father and daughter.

The Great Wave played at Theatre Royal, Glasgow on 12 February with a further performance scheduled for 14 February, and will also play at Festival Theatre, Edinburgh on 19 and 21 February.

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Joseph O’Curneen and David Ottone

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We sat down with Joseph O’Curneen and David Ottone to chat about their production The Opera Locos. The show is a vibrant comic opera which blending physical comedy, opera classics, and pop hits for an unmissable night where Verdi meets Celine Dion. The show offers a fun, accessible alternative to traditional opera, combining humour with the skill of trained singers perfect for families. Tickets here.

Joseph O’Curneen

The Opera Locos walks a fine line between loving opera and gently dismantling it. When you first co-created the show, how conscious were you of protecting opera’s dignity while gleefully poking fun at it?

Very much so. No intention whatsoever to dismantle or to dishonor the art form, far from it. Maybe, to some extent, question the rigidity of the tradition but never the music itself.

We love opera, and by combining it with our particular brand of physical theatre and humour we offer a new way of experiencing it, conscious of the need to maintain high standards of vocal technique and artistic integrity. We want both the seasoned opera-goer and the novice to leave with a renewed love for the art form.

Yllana’s work is famously physical and wordless in spirit. What does physical comedy allow you to express about opera that language or satire alone never could?

Opera Locos is in fact a demonstration of how both art forms can coexist, in unison. In essence it’s all about human expression. Characters expressing themselves using the entire spectrum of language and eloquence, from a moment of silence, to a subtle gesture, to hitting the finest operatic note. 

There is something endearing though about a character hitting the finest and most subtle note, and soon afterwards falling flat, so to speak. It’s the comic prespective. It’s a broad perspective. Do you love him for how beautifully he sings, or for his flaws? For both. Opera Locos is all about admiring two of the finest human achievements: prat falls and opera. And to love them both in kind.

After touring this show across 16 countries, what have international audiences taught you about how humour, music, and opera travel—or don’t—across cultures?

Audiences around the world connect easily with universal themes, such as músic, love, and human frailty. Flaws, defects, imperfections, are fine sources of comedy, and universal hallmarks of humanity. And our characters are like that, very human indeed. Everybody can connect to that. It’s a common denominator across all cultures, as too is the ability to admire beauty in music. 

David Ottone

The show blends Puccini and Verdi with Whitney Houston and U2 without irony. What’s your instinct when deciding which musical worlds can collide, and what makes a transition feel truthful rather than gimmicky?

Anything that helps to heighten a characters internal state, is good enough, as long as it’s aligned with the over all style, and artistic framework. If the character is believable and his desires ring true, then he could break into song regardless of how antagonistic the style may seem. Some songs just feel better, by there significance or by the impact they’ve had on popular culture. 

You’re directing performers who are both elite singers and fearless comedians. How do you create a rehearsal room where technical perfection and joyful chaos can coexist?

There is a time and place for everything. Joyful chaos should always precede perfection. Creativity is messy and should be so. You need to revel in chaos and madness at the outset, to help to loosen up the cast and to free their talent. This is especially true in comedy. Some of the best ideas come from improvisation and the free association of ideas. Afterwards you need to reign it all in, to give way to the gruelling process of perfection.

Returning to the Peacock Theatre after such a strong response last time, does revisiting a show like this feel like refinement, rediscovery, or letting it run wild all over again?

Letting it run wild all over again. I believe that is our assignment!

REVIEW: Anna Lapwood’s Christmas

Published on by fbalchinLeave a comment

Rating: 4 out of 5.

A festive dopamine hit to the eardrums, pulling out all the stops this Christmas

Anna Lapwood has such golden retriever energy. As popular in the social media arena as she is in real life, she returns to her home venue, the majestic Royal Albert Hall, for a Christmas extravaganza with all its festive trappings.

Accompanied by the Royal Philharmonic Concert Orchestra and conducted by Karen Ní Bhroin, proceedings were kicked off with a wonderful Christmas medley including Good King Wenceslas, Silent Night and Deck the Halls. The full house erupted into rapturous applause as Anna bounded out to her organ, fizzing with anticipation. It was clear nostalgia would feature heavily in the production, with the night dominated by film scores including Anna’s firm favourites from Interstellar, The Da Vinci Code and How to Train Your Dragon. Now and again, a tender piece would emerge, full of personality and novelty, including a sweet performance by solo violinist Esther Abrami performing We’re Walking In the Air from The Snowman and a piece titled Transmission in honour of her violinist grandmother.

Anna’s skills as a performer are only eclipsed by her passion for engaging the audience. She constantly interacts throughout, through personal anecdotes, praising clothing choices, dedicating songs to people, arranging for a former student to get up and conduct a few pieces of music, and having the conductor both figuratively and literally pass the (purple) conductor’s baton to her. It’s all very heartwarming, and you cannot fail to smile at the genuine connections Anna can make with thousands of strangers sat a million miles away from her organ seat. Speaking of millions, during The Greatest Showman’s A Million Dreams, Anna had even sneakily set it up for a German girl to propose to her boyfriend at a pivotal moment when all the audience were waving their phone torches for maximum visual effect- it was legitimately romantic.

However, herein lies my only complaint. I love film soundtracks as much as the next ner,d but I felt there were simply too many. There were too many similarly intense pieces, whose overpowering crescendos ironically seemed to be diluting the power of the instrument’s impact. Despite the lushness of the Royal Philharmonic filling the hall, the searing scores started to blend into one harmonious cacophony. It felt like a finale every five minutes and my brain started to switch off. The organ is, of course, always going to be grandiose and full of pomp, and Anna’s skills are second to none. Her ability to connect with her audiences of all ages, particularly young wome,n is refreshing and joyous to watch, but there just needed to be more festive pieces. I enjoyed John Williams’ E.T, Home Alone and of course the sensationally emotive Duel of the Fates from Star Wars. Anna is clearly trading on reminiscence and familiarity, but these are pieces that can be played any time of the year. They have such rousing climaxes it felt a missed opportunity to interweave more gentle pieces, making use of solo performers to truly accentuate Anna’s skills in the actual finale moment(s). I also thought it was a missed opportunity not to have the choir sing Carol of the Bells in its original Ukrainian (Shchedryk- meaning “Generous”).

Overall, it is, of course, a stirring, heartwarming nostalgia bonanza in which Anna’s infectious personality and technical skills mesh into a rollicking crowd pleaser of a show. She is endlessly on tour, always gaining popularity wherever she goes. If you want a pure dopamine hit to your eardrums, do not miss her.

REVIEW: Royal Academy of Music ‘s Carmen at Susie Sainsbury Theatre

Published on by Ke MengLeave a comment

Rating: 3.5 out of 5.

Christopher White nailed the night with an exquisite performance of the orchestra

It was a little unusual to watch Carmen at the Royal Academy of Music, where most of my operatic and musical experiences have tended toward the avant-garde, contemporary, or rarely performed repertoire. Carmen feels almost too “safe” as a box-office choice, instead of something bolder and more unconventional – just like the title character. However, that very unexpectedness is what drove me to witness this Royal Academy Opera production.

The cast showcased some of the most incredible students at the Academy. Charlotte Clapperton’s Carmen was in a way both conventional and unconventional. She’s the Carmen everyone expects to see: bold, self-possessed and with a faint vibe of gen Z feminism. The casting of Woogyeom Kim as an Asian Don José can be an apt choice as he dutifully reflected a “good boy” that inevitably turned into an intimidating man by the end. Astonishingly just in their first and second year, both showcased their vocal abilities as promising, while baritone Harrison Robb gave an uncompromising performance as Escamillo. His deep, soulful voice lingered on your mind even after the show.

 Production wise, director Harry Fehr gives the production a modern touch, but I felt uncertain about some of the creative choices. While Yannis Thavoris’s minimalist design tackled the practical needs of Carmen‘s scene changes, I was perplexed by the intention of Matt Powell’s projections. They seemed to indicate multiple “what-ifs”, but these what-ifs appeared as unclear. For some projection clips, they may lead the pair to an alternative happy ending instead of its current tragic end if the pair could have been more open and franker, but some others just indicated Carmen stabbing Don José rather than vise versa. The disco movement (Victoria Newlyn) didn’t fit the music of Lillas Pastia’s tavern, and I was also not convinced by the decision of turning the final corrida into a social-media inspired press night as overtly cheeky.

What really awed me the night, far beyond my expectation, was the performance of the Royal Academy Sinfonia. Unified, precise and delicate, conductor Christopher White lavished on Bizet’s romantic antiquity with some brightness and lightness of chamber music. This worked especially well with Madeleine Perring’s Micaëla when she was singing her famous aria in the latest Act. To my surprise, she nearly stole the entire show, not as the innocent “foil” set contrast to Carmen, but as the girl with determination and resilience.  Perring’s voice was mellow, gentle but firm – her voice watered your eyes with genuine emotion.

REVIEW: Opera North: La Bohème

Published on by ljgortzak1 Comment

Rating: 5 out of 5.

A universally resonant revival of a timeless classic

Puccini’s ‘La Bohème’ – one of the most well-known and frequently performed works in the entire operatic repertoire – is the latest production by Opera North to grace the Lowry, returning after the popularity of previous runs. Presented as a series of vignettes centred on a group of young, struggling Bohemians in Paris, this 4-act opera is an emotional rollercoaster from the first to the last.

Phyllida Lloyd’s acclaimed take on La Bohème breathes an invigorating life into a story originally set in the 1830s, a time that anyone attending an opera today will have little to no context for. Accordingly, Lloyd updates the setting to something more in line with what a modern audience might typically associate with the word “Bohemian” – the 1960s.

Motorcycles, leather jackets, fingerless glove, Parisian cafes, pop art adorning the walls of paint-splattered art-studios – in terms of the costuming and set-design, it’s all there. From the opening curtain of the first act, the audience already has a strong sense of the types of characters and scenes that will tug on their heartstrings for the next 2 hours.  Updating the setting in this way is a crucial step in helping the audience to connect with the characters, which is top priority for an opera with the intense emotional drive of La Bohème.

The first act sets up the lives of struggling poet Rodolfo, and his artist friends as they try to make rent and keep warm in the cold Parisian winter. The performances were immediately inviting and packed with humour, every subtle action and exchanged look acting as a window into the nature of the relationships between this long-time group of friends.

 After his friends leave, Rodolfo unexpectedly encounters the female lead Mimi, leading into the famous aria ‘Che gelida manina’ (Your tiny hand is frozen) – in which he introduces himself – followed by Mimì’s ‘Mi chiamano Mimì’ (They call me Mimì).

The vocal performances for these arias were sublime – Anthony Ciaramitaro delivered a robust tenor as Rodolfo, captivating the audience with his stage presence. The subsequent breathtaking performance by Olivia Boen as Mimì was one of the high points of the show for me. Hearing the stirring delivery of emotional swells (“But when springtime comes… the first rays of sunshine are mine”) carried by the torrential force of the incredible orchestra, I caught myself realising (being new to opera) – “Oh… so this is why people love it.”

The second act – set in a lively cafe in a town square – I particularly noted for the energy present on stage at all times. Large crowds of shoppers, children, diners and our main characters flow through and around each other seamlessly, with hundreds of small interactions happening in the background simultaneously to the main performances, giving the whole scene an authenticity and liveliness that’s easy to get absorbed into.

Here we were also introduced to Musetta, a strong, independent leopard-print-coat-wearing diva, whose performance by Elin Pritchard brings an extra comically flamboyant punch to the production.

In this way, the first two acts play much like a rom-com, which makes the tragedy of the final two all the more devastating. The individual performances of the talented cast all come together to deliver a heart-wrenching finale, which is bound to give even the most stoic audience member a lump in their throat.

La Boheme isoften recommended to newcomers to opera for the accessibility and universality of its libretto and music and, frankly, I couldn’t think of a better way to dip your toes into this incredible art form than Opera North’s unforgettable production of this classic.