The perfect introduction to opera. If you want a feast for eyes, ears, and mind, make a trip to La Traviata a priority.
If this is a safe space, can I confess something?
This was my first opera – ever. Unless you count a one-act Hansel and Gretel production for kids my mum took me to when I was about 8, and which didn’t make much impression. Other than that, my knowledge of La Traviata was only through my deep and passionate love for Baz Luhrmann’s 2001 Moulin Rouge! which is based upon it.
However, upon gathering my courage and entering the intimidatingly grand Theatre Royal while this opera plays, you will be enthralled by the grandeur and sophistication of a beautiful and timeless love story.
La Traviata (The Fallen Woman) is Verdi’s 1853 opera about Violetta, a beautiful courtesan, and Alfredo, her devoted admirer, who despite falling madly in love are pulled apart by family, circumstance and general tragedy, reuniting finally as Violetta succumbs to the consumption which shortens her tumultuous life.
I promise you will not hear a more beautiful soprano this year than Hye-Youn Lee, an enthralling Violetta who manages to capture the transformation from a glamorous, cynical courtesan to besotted, desolate pauper. The production (originally by Sir David McVicar in 2008, revival directed by Leo Castaldi) doesn’t shy away from the horror of a death from disease, and Hye-Youn’s ability to sing those high notes while sprawled in pain on a bed truly blows my mind.
The other true star of the cast was Ji-Min Park, playing an adorable love-blind Alfredo. His voice holds enough power to match Hye-Youn Lee’s, and carries off the despairing rage-fueled ending of Act II with great grace. This is Ji-Min’s first performance with the Scottish Opera, and after seeing the humility and emotion in his face after the performance, I wish him many more.
The sets and costumes are lush and it’s a treat to see so many performers on stage in an age where many other branches of theatre cut performer numbers to a bare minimum. The power of their voices, particularly in the Act II finale, is absolutely glorious. The orchestra, led by Stuart Stratford, carries Verdi’s passionate music wonderfully.
The performance also features dancing choreographed by Andrew George. In Act I there is a slightly awkward solo moment that to me felt disjointed to the rest of the performance, and led me to doubt – but the Act II “Di Madride noi siame mattadori” it brought much needed flair and excitement to an otherwise very contained story – and even a cheeky little cross-dressing joke (because what is theatre without at least a little cross-dressing?).
The production is sparklingly polished and engaging, even to a complete opera novice such as myself. If you want a feast for eyes, ears, and mind, make a trip to La Traviata a priority.
Pegasus Opera Company masters two underrepresented modern operas which was a privilege to enjoy.
It is such a privilege to enjoy a double bill by Pegasus Opera Company with double surprises: two pieces of underrepresented operas by modern composers telling stories of normal people instead of kings, queens, and nobles, performed by musicians from underrepresented racial backgrounds.
Roman Fever is a short story by Pulitzer winner Edith Wharton delving into the friendship, jealousy and secrets between two American women, Alida and Grace, during their visit to Rome, and Philip Hagemann premiered its one-act operatic version in 1989. La Voix Humaine (The Human Voice) is a one-act opera written by Francis Poulenc, based on Jean Cocteau’s play that explores the psyche of a self-blaming, jilted lover talking to her ex over the phone confessing her continuing affection.
Both operas have profoundly examined the psyches and emotions of middle-upper class women in the 20th century, through their relationships with men as well as female “rivals”. These underlying tensions and emotions might be underwater in their familiar domestic settings, but could erupt into storms when they are abroad – Americans in Europe for Roman Fever, and French in America for The Human Voice.
In the 20th century, particularly before the 80s, Freud and psychoanalysis was a big thing, and all of a sudden everyone’s interested in women’s inner lives. This shift has not only affected literary writings, but also the way of writing classical music. Both operas are not as melodic as traditional operas, with no typical recitatives and arias; instead, they employ a dialogue-driven structure that requires more precise and accurate portrayals of the characters to reflect deeper psychological explorations.
In Roman Fever, Alison Buchanan successfully portrays a thoughtful Alida who seems constantly knitting. On the surface, she is despised by Bernadine Pritchett’s proud and haughty Grace who thinks she wins their rivalry – both loves the same man but it is Grace marries him eventually. The music captures nuance thoughts and emotions of the two women when the narrative unveils until a startling revelation: Alida had an affair with Grace’s husband 25 years ago and her daughter Barbara is the proof.
In The Human Voice, the melody takes an even more non-traditional approach. Nadine Benjamin masterfully conveys the complexities of the woman’s mental, presenting rich layers of regret, self-blame, love, longing and resentment. All three sopranos deliver superb performances, showcasing exceptional vocal skills. They adeptly express tender emotions by using head voice, while also demonstrate strong, well-controlled expressions in their high-pitch singings.
The set by Peiyao Wang is simple but effective: two white walls (one is a projection screen), a phone mounting on the wall, and a round moon hanging above. During the climatic scenes of each opera, the moon will turn its pure, luminous white to a deep, unsettling red that symbolises those women’s chaotic internality and inner frustration. The orchestra conducted by Rebecca Tong deserves high praise for its role in the night’s performance, brilliantly rendering the psychological depth of the music.
Plagued with technical issues, the performers held strong and made it enjoyable.
Stravinsky’s The Rake’s Progress is not the typical story of a Rake; the plot was unexpectedly about a man, originally with low funds, in love, who learnt more and more about love throughout the opera. Even with all the problems he faced, and the mental state he was in by, the end of the story, Tom Rakewell (the Rake) knew what love was, could recognise it, and could profess it to the woman he had loved throughout the opera. The performances of all the cast were touching, intense, and powerful.
That being said, the performance was filled with technical issues that made it challenging to enjoy in places. The lighting was inconsistent and problematic at times, there were several periods where lead cast members were performing in darkness because the spotlight was in the wrong place. Some of these moments could have been considered intentional, except that it happened so often, particularly prior to the interval, and others absolutely could not have been because the spotlight was partially on them. Another issue was the sound. While it is entirely understandable that the cast were not wearing microphones, operatic performances could make this difficult in practice, it was really difficult to hear them occasionally. The issue that conflated this was that the subtitles on the screens had their own problems. They were sometimes out of time, and while they occasionally followed both participants of a duet this was inconsistent, they also did not follow more than one person when it was three or more vocalists layered even if their parts had different lyrics.
The costume department and set design team deserve high praise. The staging was tilted, partially raised, and reflective. It was beautiful and provided atmospheric reflections during poignant moments. It was a clean and modern feel that fit well with the mixed 18th Century and modern feel that the costumes and props had. The costumes were wonderful, all the main cast had costumes that were excellently designed to provide symbolism for the audience. The crown that Frederick Jones’s Tom Rakewell wears at the beginning is seen in a few other scenes as well, and it is only its later uses that made its entirely out-of-place feel at the beginning make more sense. The ensemble had very intricate costumes, the masks were gorgeous. For one moment there was a murder of crows on stage, heavily suggesting to the audience that something terrible was going to happen. Other lighter moments included the use of a Greggs paper bag as a prop – a smattering of laughter was heard from the audience.
Jack Sheen, the conductor, was magnificent, as were all the musicians. One musician in particular stood out for the entirety of the opera. The pianist. The pianist spent the entire opera on stage, in full costume, with a straight face as though they were part of the scenery. Only turning the page of their sheet music occasionally and playing sometimes. They played brilliantly and added hugely to the moments they were required for. During the auction scene, the pianist had a SALE sign stuck to them. They were clearly committed to their role to be as unobtrusive as possible, and should be highly commended.
Truly there was no weak link in the performers, the musicians or the cast on stage. The vocals were astounding, with special mention to Nazan Fikret, who played Anne. It was unfortunate that there were so many technical issues on the night that took away from the otherwise enthralling performances of the gifted main cast, and talented ensemble.
A funky vision and a few fun twists on Puccini’s classic.
I think I can comfortably assume that the English Touring Opera’s production of Manson Lescaut at the Oxford Playhouse is vastly different from its first performances in Turin, 1893. Director and librettist Jude Christian’s fascinating biography of recent work had me on tenterhooks for the main event, and her revival of this Puccini classic did not fail to excite the senses and turn the classical world on its head.
Practically, the vision was completely clear and, at the opening, completely blue. Tiled walls like an empty swimming pool and an unusual display of water coolers outlined the stage as the monochromatic colours of the rainbow were introduced in the costumes of the ensemble. These charmingly contemporary costumes remained unchanged throughout, keeping the modern vibe in check and the audience visually alert. Symbolic set pieces were effective; I particularly enjoyed Geronte’s ’watchful eye’ in act II and the huge gold pug in act IV, once I’d worked out what it was. I felt the choices Christian had made to revamp the opera from a feminist perspective had power and energy, but lacked some execution. I was glad at the interval that I couldn’t yet ‘work it out’, but was somewhat disappointed in the final acts by dwindling clarity and drawn out goodbyes. That being said, the funky and ambitious direction made me, as an infrequent opera viewer, infinitely more likely to come back for more!
Conductor and music director Gerry Cornelius led the production with skill and assurance, and the orchestra was faultless. I felt this especially in the second half, where the music did the emotional ‘heavy lifting’ with verve and confidence. Voices were exceptional; I was particularly struck by soprano Jenny Stafford, who propelled the story with unwavering vocal energy and a convincing performance as Manon. I enjoyed Edward Hawkins’ Geronte, who commanded the stage fabulously in pink and summed up Christian’s ‘surreal nightmare’ take on the opera very well. The movement direction was imaginative, amusing and well executed by the ensemble when present. In duologues I found myself craving this energy, and felt that the central couple’s relationship at times relied on the lines sung and the music behind them.
All in all, a funny and surprising twist on a beautiful opera, filled with colour and open to interpretation. I was interested but not surprised to find I brought the average age of the audience down by a long way, and hope that this kind of active reimagination will encourage the younger generation to give opera a chance!
Disillusion and cynicism beautifully scored by Mozart
“Cosi Fan Tutte,” Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s opera, staged in a traditional setting for a contemporary audience, provokes thought on the nature of fidelity, gender stereotypes, and the complexities of human relationships. The production I witnessed offered a captivating exploration of these themes, leaving the audience pondering the intricacies of love, desire, and decision-making.
From the outset, the production questioned the faithfulness of individuals and the universality of female behavior. It adopted a slightly sexist lens, but one that scrutinized the behavior of women rather than man, suggesting that true fidelity may be more nuanced than traditional perceptions allow. This perspective challenged the audience to consider whether societal expectations unfairly burden one gender over another. How deep can you go in order to just test the other before emulating the actual behavior that you are trying to test?
The narrative deftly depicted how love and desire can cloud judgment without rendering individuals foolish. Rather, they are depicted as being deceived by their own emotions, a reflection of human vulnerability. My personal interpretation made me recognize similar patterns in contemporary relationships, highlighting the importance of recognizing “red flags” and double standards and navigating complex emotional landscapes.
Historically, the first casting chose married actors to portray Despina and Don Alfonso – that set the tone of the narrative and added an intriguing layer of authenticity to the future performances. The cynical nature of Don Alfonso went hand in hand with the disillusion from Despina, placed them as the only legit potential couple out of this “geometric” experiment.
Mozart’s sensuous musical score, with its repetitive motifs and geometric structure, enveloped the audience in a world of enchantment. Yet, beneath the surface, themes of disillusionment and cynicism lurked, mirroring the characters’ internal conflicts.
The stage, resembling a sandbox (a fitting visual for the “scientific laboratory” in which Don Alfonso positioned the lovers), invited scrutiny into the characters’ actions and motivations. Its deliberate lack of external forces raised questions about free will and agency, prompting viewers to consider whether humans are truly capable of making autonomous decisions. Intrestingly, the cubical space created by Hoheisel also has lenses, as we, the public, are invited to take a deeper look into the situation.
One of the opera’s most compelling aspects was its unique exploration of female sexuality. Female characters wrestled with their desires, navigating the tension between reason and emotion. The impeccable vocal performances and melodic motifs underscored this internal struggle, captivating the audience with each nuanced expression.
While some musical pieces may have benefited from brevity, Mozart’s penchant for elaborate compositions ultimately added to the richness of the production. However, the opera’s moral message — that all women are inherently unfaithful and it is the duty of men to accept them — felt outdated and contradictory. After all, did not Ferrando and Guglielmo also engage in infidelity?
Nevertheless, the production skillfully highlighted the emotional turmoil experienced by the male characters, their betrayal palpable through the score’s undertones. The blend of comedy and tragedy left a lingering sense of unease, prompting reflection on the characters’ choices and societal expectations.
In conclusion, “Cosi Fan Tutte” offered a thought-provoking examination of love, fidelity, and gender dynamics, set against the backdrop of Mozart’s masterful composition. While its moral conclusions may be contentious, its exploration of human nature and relationships resonates deeply with contemporary audiences.
Pegasus Opera Company and Hagemann Rosenthal Associates are proud to present a double bill featuring the gripping female driven stories called Roman Fever by Philip HagemannandThe Human Voice (La Voix Humaine)by Francis Poulenc, play by Jean Cocteau at Susie Sainsbury Theatre, Royal Academy of Music, London, NW1 5HT on Friday 12 April at 7.30pm, Saturday 13 at 7.30pm and Sunday 14 at 2.30pm.
The double bill will be led by an all-female cast and creative team which reflects the powerful narrative of both operas. Roman Fever, originally a short story by the acclaimed American writerEdith Wharton, comes to life on the operatic stage for the first time in the UK at Susie Sainsbury. Philip Hagemann premiered the opera in 1989 in Santa Fe, New Mexico. The story revolves around Grace Ansley and Alida Slade, both widows from Manhattan, who take their daughters to Rome to share memories of their youth. However, whilst in Rome tensions rise as Alida’s jealousy towards Grace, who has always looked down on her, comes to the surface. The story takes twists and turns as it dissects the mysteries of relationships culminating in a shocking revelation. Hagemann’s music cradles the words, moods, and action in silken melodic strokes with touches of dissonances to highlight the feelings of the ladies toward each other. The Human Voice (La Voix Humaine) is a forty-minute, one-act opera for soprano and orchestra composed by Francis Poulenc in 1958. The opera focuses on a single character known as “she” who was abandoned by her lover who in now about to be married. The production highlights her last telephone conversation with him and probes the dynamics of relationships. Poulenc waited thirty years before composing this opera as he felt he needed to experience relationships himself before committing to the music. The result is a powerful fusion of words and music.
This double bill features libretto and music by Philip Hagemann, with direction by Josette Bushell-Mingo OBE andisconducted by Rebecca Tong.
Roman Fever and The Human Voice (La Voix Humaine) will be staged at Susie Sainsbury Theatre, Royal Academy of Music, Marylebone Road, London NW1 5HT on Friday 12 April, 7.30pm, Saturday 13 April 7.30pm and Sunday 14 April, 2.30pm 2024. Tickets are £15 conc, £25, £35.
This production transports a tale of love and deception from the cobbled streets of Seville to the dusty plains of the late 1800s American frontier
In an uproarious fusion of Rossini’s classic opera and Wild West antics, Charles Court Opera’s rendition of “The Barber of Seville” at Wilton’s Music Hall is a rollicking good time. Directed by the irrepressible John Savournin, this production transports the tale of love and deception from the cobbled streets of Seville to the dusty plains of the late 1800s American frontier, infusing it with a generous dose of English wit and charm.
Gone are the sombre tones of traditional opera; instead, audiences are treated to a riotous spectacle reminiscent of Monty Python meets a spaghetti western. David Eaton’s clever English translation of the libretto injects fresh energy into the narrative, with rhymes and quips that keep the laughter rolling. From Figaro’s entrepreneurial endeavours to Almaviva’s romantic gambits, every moment crackles with comedic fervour.
The intimate confines of Wilton’s Music Hall provide the perfect backdrop for this high-energy romp. The cast, led by the dynamic Joseph Doody and Samantha Price as the star-crossed lovers, deliver performances brimming with infectious enthusiasm. Meriel Cunningham shines as Rosina, infusing the role with a delightful blend of humour and heart.
Under Eaton’s skilful piano accompaniment, Rossini’s timeless melodies soar, capturing the essence of the original score while embracing the stripped-back charm of the venue. Each aria and ensemble number is a showcase of vocal prowess and comedic timing, ensuring that laughter mingles seamlessly with the music.
Savournin’s direction strikes a perfect balance between slapstick antics and heartfelt emotion, ensuring that the opera’s underlying themes of love and redemption remain at the forefront.
The brilliance of this production lies not only in its inventive setting but also in the stellar performances of its cast. Joseph Doody and Samantha Price bring charisma and charm to their roles as the lovestruck Almaviva and Rosina, navigating the twists and turns of their romance with aplomb. Their chemistry is palpable, infusing each scene with a sense of joy and longing.
Jonathan Eyers commands the stage as the resourceful Figaro, his baritone voice resonating with authority and mischief. Whether he’s concocting elaborate schemes or charming his way out of trouble, Eyers’ portrayal is both captivating and endearing.
Hugo Herman-Wilson delivers a memorable performance as the villainous Basilio, his booming bass-baritone voice instilling fear and laughter in equal measure. His portrayal of the scheming bartender adds depth and complexity to the production, elevating it beyond mere farce.
But perhaps the true star of the show is David Eaton’s ingenious English translation of the libretto. Witty and irreverent, his lyrics breathe new life into Rossini’s masterpiece, transforming it into a rollicking comedy for the ages. From pun-filled duets to tongue-twisting trios, Eaton’s wordplay delights and surprises at every turn, earning thunderous applause from the audience.
With its unforgettable performances, inventive staging, and infectious energy, this production is sure to leave a lasting impression on audiences of all ages. So, grab your Stetson and saddle up for a wild ride through the Wild West – you won’t want to miss it!
Simon McBurney’s The Magic Flute coming back to ENO still promises a night full of magic
Every time I watch a production where Complicité are involved, I feel the joy akin to playing open-world video games: infinities of exploration. This production of The Magic Flute, collaborated with ENO, Dutch National Opera, and Festival d’Aix-en-Provence, is of no exception. The medley of everything – Mozart’s music, the ENO orchestra, the cast and ensemble, as well as the video and foley artists – creates a unique and irreplaceable chemistry.
A hallmark of Complicité is their adept use of real-time cameras, a feature prevalent across their productions. Despite some (inside the academia) deeming this technique as somewhat outdated, this ten-year production of The Magic Flute with two revivals challenges such notions. It showcases that the essence of theatre techniques lies not in trends but in how and why the practitioners may use it, what fresh sensations and perspectives it can offer, and what sorts of connotations they endeavour to convey. The video artist Ben Thompson, settled at the wing of stage right, employs this technique masterfully by using a chalkboard to draw doodles and lines that elaborate character backgrounds and the storyline, which are projected live onto the grand scrim. At first, you may think it merely a pre-recorded projection, but the live nature of this performance is soon revealed.
Another signature of Complicité: everything goes live, the cast, the sound, and the video camera. Even in traditional productions, Papageno (David Stout) engages the audience the most, while live camera significantly enhances such engagement. When Papageno sighs, overwhelmed by his longing for finding the love of his life, the camera whimsically scanning the faces of ladies in the auditorium. It halts on a young lady and Papageno rushes to her navigating the sea of seats. He then dashes back to Thompson’s little video booth, writing down his phone number on the chalkboard, which is again, broadcasted live on the scrim. This scene ignites laughter and brims with humour, while it also deepens our bonds with Papageno. Like most people, he may lack talent for being enlightened, but he is an earnest and kind friend who will also not be corrupted. He will not align with the queen of the night, but will always be at your side. Much like the paper-bird ensemble he is associated with, especially the one that has been stepped on, leaving it weary and tattered, this tired and wounded man still struggles to strive. In contrast to Julie Taymor’s colourful rendition of The Magic Flute, this production embraces a much darker, more subdued palette, resembling the depressing historical period before enlightenment, while Papageno (and later, Papagena) serves as the sole bursts of colour. With his earthly desires and simple joys, Papageno is more reminiscent to us amidst the grand theme of enlightenment that pervades the opera.
The live video creation reaches its zenith during the breathtaking trial scenes of fire and water, rendering them with serene beauty. In collaboration with the foley artist, the team crafts a cataclysmic fire and a massive downpour of water, illustrating both a sense of sublimity and tranquillity. In the final scene, the video camera, positioned high in the fly loft, captures Tamino and Pamina (Sarah Tynan) encircled by the ensemble. The projection witnesses the ensemble’s hands outstretching towards the centre, forming a radiant, sun-like pattern with the loving duo at its heart. With the chalkboard writing wisdom and love, this scene per se has actually become such an embodiment. It suggests that trials, in any form, are essential to achieve humanity.
The main stage features a vast, multi-use board suspended by wires at its four corners. This board seems like a huge, conceptualised hell trapdoor, a device dated back to Elizabethan theatres, coming into realisation. While it undeniably symbolises the gates of hell, in this production, it transforms the stage into a liminal space bridging the dark, medieval regime of the night queen (Rainelle Krause), and the enlightened realm ushered in by Sarastro (John Relyea), the Prospero-like patron guiding Tamino (Norman Reinhardt) through his journey and guarding the brave new world. Through the design by Michael Levine, Sarastro’s temple is reimagined as a colossal library, where the three doors of wisdom, truth and reason become leather-bound books. Compared to hell trapdoors in more conventional proscenium arches, this suspended main stage renders instability and liminality, which are, to some extent, at the core of this production. For most Complicité’s works, it is often the case that no fixated meanings nor absolute binaries can be found. While Mozart might want to suggest a clear dichotomy, such clarity of distinction has been greatly dissolved in this production.
However, this production does present a fascinating contrast between the vast, transitional space of the liminal “hell” and the singular “flute” — the very instrument played by the flautist in the orchestra, which Tamino acquires in Act II and returns just before the couple’s trial. For Mozart, wind instruments, particularly the flute and clarinet, are synonymous with revelation. They embody not just the ethereal elegance that seems to waft from distant horizons but also serve as torches of enlightenment amidst darkness and chaos.
“Perhaps music itself can have an effect, a civilising effect on human beings” (Simon McBurney, “Making of Die Zauberflöte”), says McBurney, who indeed has Mozart in his bones, while the ENO orchestra conducted by Erina Yashima, forms the lifeblood of this production, and of course, the entire opera cast, including the three attendances of the night queen and Sarastro’s priests and slaves, serves as the spirit.
Another magic wand of Complicité is live soundscape-making, a skill later much matured in their world-shaking The Encounter. The foley artist Ruth Sullivan at the stage left wing owns her tiny booth of “cocktail bar” where she uses to create a variety of ingenious sounds. This practice is quintessentially inherent in Complicité by challenging us to recognise what we hear. It may seem to be genuine, but actually is artificial. Pre-recorded hi-fidelity or live-making soundscapes, which is the answer? While McBurney explores much deeper in The Encounter, for The Magic Flute, the answer is definitely the latter.
An action-packed and unconventional day in the life of Karl Marx and his family proves to be a feast for the eyes and ears
Marx in London! is set on one day in 1871 – the 14th August. We’re informed of this at regular intervals by the Spy (Jamie MacDougall), a character who opens his first official update by declaring there was nothing remarkable about Karl Marx’s current behaviour. How things were to change!
The opening act of Jonathan Dove’s production has us swept into a family setting – Karl Marx (Roland Wood), playing a rather suggestive game of chess with Helene (Lucy Schaufer), his housekeeper, when not being disrupted from his ‘work’ by his daughter Tussi, played by Rebecca Bottone. Soon, the troubles of Marx become apparent – the bailiffs arrive, and Tussi is distracted by a young man outside (Freddy – played by William Morgan), who she perceives to be a spy. Chaos ensues, and further exacerbated by the arrival of Jenny Marx (Orla Boylan), resplendent in an impressively expansive purple gown, and friend Friedrich Engels (Alasdair Elliot). We’re whisked through a pawnbroker, a reading room, a speaking contest in a pub, through the London streets on a moving (and occasionally, flying) furniture cart, an angelic penny farthing, and back home, as the story unravels its various threads, complete with fourth-wall-breaking plot twist.
Ingenious use of set design and decoration is prevalent throughout – with frequent usage of split level stages and manoeuvrability of every element of set furniture. In the first instance, Karl Marx is shown in his writing room, separated from the uproar, whilst the bailiffs attach various furniture items to ropes in the living room, from which the items are suspended in mid air. This device is used to great effect throughout the performance, and the use of multiple eye levels and increasingly frantic movement on stage mimics the inner turmoil shown by the characters. The use of a video backdrop worked perfectly, and appeared deceptively effortless, and the supertitles above the stage were much appreciated too.
The orchestra were impeccable, lead by David Parry, and the performers were wholly in sync with the music throughout, and vice versa – this is clearly a well honed relationship.
Singing was pitch-perfect throughout the main cast and ensemble, hitting every note with ease. However, there was a little loss of clarity at some parts, particularly when the male characters were singing from the back of the stage, but this more reflective of the theatre space than the performers themselves. Flirty little lyrics were peppered throughout, clearly appreciated by the audience, and probably the first time the description of a carbuncle has been sung in an opera. “Another little drink” sung as duet between Jenny and Helene, was a personal highlight, with excellent drunk acting from the pair, and even more impressive was Orla Boylan being able to sing whilst prostrate, in a corset, and that magnificent gown. Costuming in general was also ideally suited to the characters, with many cycling through multiple outfits – a total of seven for our enigmatic Spy.
Taken as a whole over the two acts, there were occasions where the pacing felt a little uneven, and some scenes would have benefited from more judicious editing. Even so, the performance itself did not feel overly long, and would be a very accessible and highly recommended introduction to the opera for a newcomer.
A needed decampment from tradition, this collaborative performance is ambitiously new
The evening begun with Andrea Balency-Béarn’s Appels, a great piece to get everyone in the mood for the upcoming Stravinsky, as written in response to Les Noces, Appels utilises four pianos, creating a beautifully discordant yet focused sound which rung out around the huge open metal-filled space of Woolwich Works. Moving smoothly onto Cage Letters by Yshani Perinpanayagam, the love letters of John Cage to Merce Cunningham are set to frantic piano, during which the dancers of New Movement Collective find their way onto the stage, ready for the main event, Les Noces.
Les Noces, or The Wedding (music by Stravinsky, choreography from Bronislava Nijinska) was first performed in 1923, a story of a Russian peasant wedding. The New Movement Collective transform the original ballet into something specifically for today, centred on community and interpersonal bonds. The dancers oscillate across the long narrow stage, never loosing sight of each other. It felt like what temporarily become lost was always found again; there were no loose ends. The dance then centred itself on the the communal recusing of isolated or estranged individuals. Visually, wedding elements were woven through the New Movement Collective’s rendition, with the dancers wearing beige and whiteish coloured modern suit trousers and cropped jackets which are eventually tied together to form a long, trailing veil.
Stravinsky’s score for four pianos was impressively performed, along with the percussion and timpani. At points, it felt like you were listening to a whole symphonic orchestra as the sound was so powerful, matched with the singing from the Opera Holland Park Chorus. Soloist performances from the soprano April Koyejo Audiger and the baritone Ross Rambogin really took you back with their vocal strength.
Stravinsky’s Les Noces is such a historical and traditional work, subject to repeated reinterpretation. However the New Movement Collective, rather then attempting to offer up their own re-do of Les Noces, it felt more like a response to that cultural moment, an echo from the future. I think there was something quite dystopic about Les Noces – The Departure, some vision of the future in which we might only have each other. The somewhat sentimentality I felt after was brightened however by the closing piece from Company Chameleon Youth and ENBYouthCo, as young performers collaborated with the impressive beatboxer MC Zani, and created a spirited and more animalistic response to Les Noces.
This whole project, a mass collaboration between so many groups and individuals, was a perfect piece to perform at Woolwich Works. Being a fairly new arts venue, I hope Les Noces – The Departure, will put it on more audience’s radars. It is an incredible venue, being in what was the Royal Arsenal. Its long history has been maintained and the huge renovated industrial spaces ares classy and versatile. I recommend keeping an eye on their upcoming events.
