The Tyro Theatre Critic

The Opera 101

2012-12-20T02:20:00.002+00:00

Hello everyone!

Long time no see. I, to all intents and purposes, became a veritable web hermit after stopping this blog, taking a self-imposed exile from Twitter, Foursquare, Facebook and every other daftly named social media related web thingumajig, but I haven't given up on this internet thing yet! I and a friend have been working on a new web project we've dubbed The Opera 101.

As young operagoer's we weren't all that pleased with the opera resources found online so rather than just moan and grumble about it (as partial as I am to a bit of grumbling), we thought we'd have a crack at making one ourselves. It's at an early stage right now, there's the odd bug in there, I've no doubt a clutch of typos, and more significantly only covers Puccini and a trio of his operas. We've got plenty coming along in the pipeline however, not least a list of opera running times that I should have made for myself a long time ago (Why is it that I always assume La Boheme is short...).

Anywho, this post was basically a big shill for my new project and nothing related to my old theater critic witterings so apologies for that. I still might come back to this at some point (I've managed just over 100 shows since I stopped the blog so my passion for all things theatre continues unabated), but I've found it rather refreshing to bask in the subjective bliss of my unwritten opinions. Just to throw two cents in while I'm here, "Falling" at the Minetta Lane Theatre is one of the best things I've seen all year (and they are desperately undersold so buy, buy, buy!) whilst Harper Regan at the Atlantic was one of the worst (though Ben Brantley thought differently)...

Rob Walport (TTC)

That's all folks...

2012-07-04T02:53:00.001+01:00

The time has finally come for me to hang up my reviewing boots. It's been a blast but life moves on and with just over 750 reviews, and their accompanying shows behind me, I've decided to give it a break. The acute reason is my taking a summer job working in General Management at the wonderful Brooklyn Academy of Music, but I've been dragging my heels with reviews for too long and I think it's time to take a break regardless.

Over the last five years, I've been fortunate enough to see an incredible spectrum of shows that have all, in their own ways, made an impact. They haven't all been winners, far from it (!!!), but it has been a rare evening I've regretted going. I considered putting together another greatest hits (and misses) list, but won't. My previous efforts (see here and here), were challenging enough to select and the long list is now so long, I couldn't bring myself to create a selection that would fit in this blog.

I take my hat off to all the creative folks out there, whether I've liked their work or not. To everybody who gets up on stage and does whatever they do, in whatever fashion they care for, my life would be considerably the duller without you. Since my noble (read desperate) performance as "Neville" in "Neville's Island" aged 17, I've scarcely stepped on a stage barring the occasional, deeply painful, bit of audience interaction (which if I'm honest... I deep down loved). I couldn't do it, so bravo to all who can.

I will of course be leaving up the reviews and will probably put in place some sort of index page that makes it easier to access the old posts in a more agreeable fashion. In what form that takes I do not yet know and I've no idea when I'll get round to putting it together (so much to do, so little time). I'm not planning on reducing my theatregoing, though quite how long I'll be able to keep it up I don't know.

Anywho! I'm wittering... Y'all (see how American I'm getting, I'll be spelling it theater before too long...) haven't heard the last from me. Indeed if the mood takes me I might even start reviewing again after the summer. For now at least, it's time for a goodbye of sorts. It's been a pleasure.

Robert Walport (The Tyro, née Teenage, Theatre Critic)

La Cenerentola (Glyndebourne Opera)

2012-06-19T04:18:00.001+01:00

There's little love lost between Rossini's "La Cenerentola" and me. Undeniably packed with great tunes, the overture is a cracker, but it's a painfully mundane take on Cinderella, not exactly a laugh a minute and near devoid of magic. Peter Hall's Glyndebourne production from 2005 is solid enough though lacking sparkle, but it has acquired at this revival, a mezzo-soprano to rival the best in the world.

Elizabeth DeShong produces vocal beauty like few I've ever heard. Warm at the bottom, rosy in the middle and rising to a spectacularly full voiced upper register: her vocal chords can do it all. The coloratura was mind-bendingly impressive, spitting out the notes with clarity and gorgeous richness. DeShong isn't exactly a global star at the moment, though she had a small role at the Met last season, give her a few years and I've no doubt she will be.

What surrounded her was all very decent but there was nothing to match (what could?), bar maybe the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra under James Gaffigan who were up to their usual high standards. There was much to like however, about the "ugly" sisters, Elena Xanthoudakis and Victoria Yarovaya strong actors as well as singers, and Taylor Stayton's prince was winsomely sung with some rock solid Cs. Umberto Chiummo's Don Magnifico was less consistent though he sold the drunken comedy well and Shenyang did little better as a competent but lumpen Alidoro.

Hall mines both the humour and the darkness in his expensive looking but plain production and though there are few revelations, he navigates the languid pacing with aplomb. It was DeShong's night however from start to finish, a stellar performance that I scarcely expected but will remember for a long time.

(Review of Performance on Monday, May 28th, 2012 at Glyndebourne)

Cunning Little Vixen (Glyndebourne Opera)

2012-06-12T16:54:00.002+01:00

Melly Still was presumably hired to make-over Janacek's "The Cunning Little Vixen" after her gorgeous "Rusalka" of a couple of seasons ago. Alas, a similar approach has not reaped such rewards this time around. Not a bad production by any means, but Still's dance heavy, visually vibrant take loses the narrative thread at times and ends up looking more confused than pretty.

Tom Pye's set is markedly straightforward, a single twisting tree at the center with the grassy ground around it sloping up towards the back of the stage, a winding path seemingly drifting off into the distance. It's pretty, neat and evokes the changing seasons with aplomb. These clean visuals are not maintained by the performers however, who endlessly frolic about in hugely witty but rather distracting costumes. The frogs are an absolute treat, their hands becoming their eyes, but there's too little differentiation between the animals which became even more of an issue as Still starts to flood the stage with them. The choreography is thrillingly physical but there's too much of it, pulling focus from what really matters: the story. That story encompasses a great deal; life and death, the cycles of nature and to her credit Still captures the dark but colourful tone well. It's just a pity she couldn't prevent the excitement of it all overtaking the essential narrative. You can't make an audience think until they've worked out what's going on.

The casting is more good than great, and unusually for Glyndebourne, the sound balance heavily favoured the orchestra. Vladimir Jurowski found majesty in the score, the woodwind remarkable, but wasn't sensitive enough in some passages for the singers to be heard, particularly the rather mixed bag of child voices. Lucy Crowe delivered sex appeal and vibrancy as the Vixen, a easy, light soprano. Emma Bell made for a superlative Fox, meshing wonderfully with Crowe. Sergei Leiferkus doesn't produce much by way of vocal beauty, but he's a hardened professional ideally suited to the waning Forester.

Almost every aspect of Still's production is a winner, the set gorgeous, the costumes enchanting, the choreography slick and yet bringing them altogether the end result is too unfocused to deliver Janacek's fast paced narrative coherently. Musical standards were strong, though below the enormously high Glyndebourne bar, Bell in particular, a class act. "The Cunning Little Vixen" is always a tricky one, Still's production just misses the mark.

(Review of Performance on Sunday, May 27th, 2012 at Glyndebourne)

Antigone

2012-06-08T23:40:00.002+01:00

Trying to make classical theatre relevant is both easy and very hard. Easy in that texts such as Sophocles's "Antigone" have a timeless quality that has sustained them for several thousand years. Hard in that the details don't always add up to modern minds, and trying to force them, as Polly Findley's does in her mostly intelligent new National Theatre production, can close more doors than it opens.

Opening with a recreation of the now famous image of Barack Obama, Hilary Clinton and others watching the death of Osama Bin Laden, Finlay makes it quite clear that the issues at stake are present and real today. It's a clear and concise message, and for the most part is hugely successful, but at times the contemporary outlook railroads Creon towards baddie status and Antigone towards goodie, the central debates towards black and white. The set design, by Soutra Gilmour, is less specific, three glass offices in a grubby underground bunker, and in some ways is the most successful aspect of the staging. It evokes the modern world and the fierce reality that it brings but is abstract enough to allow the audience to fill in the gaps that don't quite add up.

Christopher Ecclestone is compelling casting as Creon. He's a thrilling performer, off-beat enough to be fascinating without straying into caricature. He becomes the narcissistic centre of the show, but this tragedy has the edge taken of it by Findlay finding too little to admire in his narrow thinking (which though ultimately misguided isn't done out of genuine malice). Jodie Whittaker is no less capable in the role of Antigone though she didn't always handle the flat translation well. Of the rest it is Jamie Ballard's horrifically scarred Tiresias who leaves the biggest impression. Findlay reworks the chorus as an ever shifting group of government advisors, its slickly done and none of her cast let her down.

Though the Findlay's production could almost be accused of being as narrow minded as Creon, the complete impact of its unbroken running is surprisingly potent and effective. For all its flaws this "Antigone" is yet another National Theatre hit. Tickets are thin on the ground but as always the stirling twelve pound day seat policy means anyone can see this if they make the effort, and well worth the effort it is too.

(Review of Performance on Saturday, May 26th, 2012 at the National Theatre, Olivier)

The Sunshine Boys

2012-06-07T03:14:00.003+01:00

Danny DeVito isn't your typical piece of celebrity casting. In "The Sunshine Boys" he delivers a whirlwind of fiercely acted energy. A performance that ranks amongst the best in London, DeVito is simply magnificent despite the play itself leaving plenty to be desired.

Neil Simon's play follows a well past his prime Vaudeville actor, played by DeVito, who having believed himself to be effectively consigned to the scrapheap, becoming bitter and cantankerous as a result, is given one last chance to perform. The big problem is that this means reuniting with his old partner, played by a miscast Richard Griffiths, who he hasn't spoken with in more than a decade. It's an interesting set-up, though not very original, but Simon spends more time having the pair cracking witty, but bland jokes than exploring the issues. Depicting a working relationship like a bickering marriage makes sense but reveals little. Maudlin and predictable, if it weren't for DeVito I'd have struggled.

With him though, "The Sunshine Boys" becomes a thoroughly enjoyable romp. He delivers a bundle of energy but he does so with incredible focus. He has the audience rolling in the aisles one minute and hanging on his every word the next. Griffiths can't do much against this onslaught beyond looking meek and mild but despite being out of place, he fared decently enough (aside from the dodgy accent). Griffiths is ace casting in one respect however, the sheer size differential between the pair, DeVito short and squat, Griffiths tall and enormous, makes for a visual joke that doesn't get old.

Simon's "The Sunshine Boys" is impeccably written, but also mechanically and painfully sappily. It is however, a show worth seeing purely to catch a performer at the top of his game. DeVito offers a masterclass of acting, a performance I will remember long after I've forgotten the play.

(Review of Performance on Saturday, May 26th, 2012 at the Savoy Theatre)

Caligula (English National Opera)

2012-06-05T03:46:00.002+01:00

Based on the manner in which the English National Opera marketed "Caligula" (Exhibit A: the poster above) it will come as no surprise to anyone that it really is a grisly bit of theatre. Beginning and ending with a scream and containing plenty of silent ones in between, this is not an easy night out. It is a fascinating however.

Glanert's opera takes Camus' play, of the same title, as its starting point, an exploration of tyranny that's about more than just madness. Whatever the historic Caligula was like, Glanert's is meticulous, intelligent and ruthless. Everything he does, he does simply because he can: a relentless onslaught on all human values. The resulting two hours of music, beautiful, distinctly Berg-like music, and drama are not easily forgotten. All this said, it's an imperfect opera. The nastiness peaks too early which leaves the last Act feeling flat and unexciting. It's also all a bit wearing, there's not much action to speak of and though intellectually stimulating it's an opera short on variation.

Benedict Andrews presents the entire drama on a huge bank of stadium seating. Riffing on the various tyrants who have been drawn to stadia for control and dominance, it's a clever and witty conceit. Caligula manages to become both the only performer and the only spectator, lost and alone at the center of this vast arena. Andrews fills the stage with haunting images, Caligula's dead sister a continuous naked presence. Just occasionally Andrews could be accused of overdoing it, there are a lot of different elements coming together, but he ably focuses down onto Caligula when the moment requires it. Caligula exposed and completely isolated with a large round mirror becomes one of the finest visuals of the night.

The singing was excellent. Peter Coleman-Wright won't win any beauty points here but he punches out Caligula with increasing intensity and tremendous vigour. Yvonne Howard drew the short straw as his wife Caesonia, a difficult, repressed role that didn't easily project into the London Coliseum. Howard sang capably but her inner turmoil only sporadically cross the footlights. It's very much a company piece with delicious choruses that were impeccably delivered as well as a multitude of well sung supporting roles.

Glanert's Caligula is only a little short of being a masterpiece. The visceral impact is great and it's just a pity that the second half plods a touch as it moves to the inevitable conclusion. Huge praise to the ENO for putting this on, a brave, risky project that they have executed with pure class. I'd love to hear more from Glanert, on the basis of this, he's a very interesting, highly theatrical composer.

(Review of Performance on Friday, May 25th, 2012 at the London Coliseum)

Royal Ballet Double Bill (Ballo/La Sylphide)

2012-06-01T19:23:00.000+01:00

To find the Royal Ballet performing Balanchine during my couple of weeks in London didn't exactly fill me with joy (the NYCB producing close to wall to wall Balanchine). "La Sylphide" on the other hand I couldn't wait to see again, Johan Kobborg's staging a pitch perfect balance of dance, narrative and emotion.

To their credit, "Ballo Della Regina" was better danced than I expected. "Ballo" isn't a ballet of particular substance but it sustains fairly well across its twenty minutes, not least because of the delicious Verdi score (culled from Don Carlo). Though Marianela Nunez would look out of place in an NYCB line-up, her strong lines and vibrant dancing sent me out humming a happy tune. Nehemiah Kish partnered her with aplomb, a tall, masculine dancer with a terrific leap. The small supporting corps fared acceptably though only Yuhui Choe really shone.

"La Sylphide" is the oldest regularly performed ballet but in Kobborg's production it looks and feels brand new. The balance of mime with dance is well crafted, the narrative zipping along at a fair clip and the sets and lighting are simply gorgeous. This cast was led by Steven McRae and Roberta Marquez. McRae's James was an arrogant, lively figure which worked supremely well though didn't engender the part with much sympathy. Marquez is a lovely dancer but she lacked magic as the sylph, everything that made her a perfect Lise in "La Fille" last week counted against her here. Precise and pretty but rather earthy. As perfectly crafted as any story ballet, I could watch "La Sylphide" over and over again.

There was no obvious reason to pair "Ballo" with "La Sylphide" but both worked on their own terms. "La Sylphide" is a wonder of a ballet and the Royal Ballet are lucky to have such a strong production as Kobborg's (more from him please!). A strong, hugely enjoyable double bill.

(Review of Performance on Thursday, May 24th, 2012 at the Royal Opera House)

What The Butler Saw

2012-05-31T21:56:00.002+01:00

To describe the latest West End "What The Butler Saw" as disappointing is a bit unfair but that was certainly the feeling I had as I left the theatre. Joe Orton's spicey 60s farce has much to recommend it, but feels dated, the laughs just do not fly as they should.

Much like "Deathtrap" did for thrillers, "What The Butler Saw" is a both a witty farce and an extremely clever dissection of the genre. An increasingly convoluted plot involving considerable undressing and far too many doors, with just enough self-reference to be funny without seeming smug. It's an impressive achievement but the wordplay, whilst unfathomably intelligent, Orton did wordplay like few others, no longer draws the laughs it should. The subversive, dark tone occasionally hits a nerve, rape and incest both get major laughs, but compared with the comic tastes of the present the jokes almost feel tame.

Part of the problem lies in the hyperactive actors. Omid Djalili is a very funny man but we get more Djalili than Dr Rance here. His dynamism is a joy to watch but in the end it upset the balance of the show. Tim McInnerny pitches his psychiatrist better, nailing the pratfalls without losing that crucial semblance of dignity. Samantha Bond totters about on the edge of silliness but delivered her lines with a more considered gusto. There are well judged straighter performances from Georgina Moffett, Nick Hendrix and Jason Thorpe, Moffett in particular hilarious as the sexually naive secretary.

"What The Butler Saw" doesn't add up to the sum of its parts. Though riddled with great sight and verbal gags, building to an amazingly off-the-wall conclusion, the overall feeling is laboured. The cast attack everything with manic glee but the effect is more enervating than energising. Consistently amusing but not nearly as breathtakingly funny as it should be.

(Review of Performance on Thursday, May 24th, 2012 at the Vaudeville Theatre)

Falstaff (Royal Opera)

2012-05-30T22:26:00.001+01:00

Verdi's "Falstaff" is one of the funniest operas ever written and Michael Carsen has honed in on this very fact in his new production for the Royal Opera. It's hard to complain when you're having so much fun but in hammering home the comedy, Carsen doesn't leave much room for the darker ambiguity. A slightly bitter taste left in the mouth that the production does not fully explore.

Hacked together from multiple Shakespeare plays, "Falstaff" is a remarkable achievement. It was Verdi's last opera, and contains an incredible potpourri of styles that mesh quite beautifully. The kooky narrative shouldn't work but does, Act II perfectly plotted to build towards a farcical climax of some genius. Act III goes a bit pear shaped it must be said, as does the production in this case, but that's more a reflection of the perfection that came before, than the flaws of the conclusion.

Carsen relocates the work into the class divisions of the 1950s, an updating that works extremely well though it's scarcely the most original interpretation (Glyndebourne's recent production worked exactly the same vein). No matter, it's a fully consistent setting and one that allows Carsen to bring out the full ribaldry of the opera. The wood panelled sets are a treat, the physical comedy is superbly done and the horse a gimmicky but enchanting addition. The faux ethereal final Act gets short thrift, a well lit but still bizarre whir of tables. Though the staging goes out of its way to basically obliterate the unavoidable meanness of the libretto (unsuccessfully), Carsen gets far more right than wrong.

The evening is dominated by Ambrogio Maestri's Falstaff. Maestri doesn't just sing the part well, he more or less lives it. A complete charmer with resonant baritone to match, Maestri rules the stage. No one could quite match him but the large ensemble cast held plenty of bright spots. Ana Maria Martínez and Kai Rüütel elegantly slotted into the roles of Alice and Meg; Joel Prieto and Amanda Forsythe a sweet, if unremarkable, pair of young lovers. Marie-Nicole Lemieux tackled Mistress Quickly like a character out of a "Carry On..." film, her saucy prancing had the audience in stitches. Rather less strong was Dalibor Jenis's Fenton, weak of voice and in a production of excess, he still somehow managed to overact.

Though rather less adventurous than one might expect of Carsen, the Royal Opera have a "Falstaff" to be proud of. Maestri is simply majestic in the title role and nipped along by Danielle Gatti, the Orchestra of the Royal Opera House were in fine fettle. My last Royal Opera performance for a good while, I'll certainly miss the place!

(Review of Performance on Wednesday, May 23th, 2012 at the Royal Opera House)

Sweeney Todd

2012-05-27T23:24:00.002+01:00

Jonathan Kent's quite impeccable new production of Stephen Sondheim's "Sweeny Todd" seems to take its tone from Michael Ball's assumption of the title role: lean, muscular and efficient. Operatic excess is paired back and the result is grimly human and utterly compelling.

Indeed, with the exception of the blood jets which get progressively more epic as the body count increases, Kent's staging creates its terror not through overt horror but by carefully ratcheting up the tension with clockwork precision. The period has been updated to somewhere in the middle of the 20th Century with a very working class aesthetic, the characters are no longer Dickensian oddballs but rather more earthy figures. Kent surrounds the action with a milieu of suffering poor, a harsh reality that makes the nasty central narrative all the bleaker. The staging also scores particularly highly technically, gorgeous lighting effects and a sound design that ensures that the vast majority of the lyrics can actually be heard (a depressing rarity).

Ball and Imelda Staunton do not sing this as some have in the past. If you're hoping for Bryn Terfel-like heft you're going to be disappointed. However, Ball chooses to deliver much of Sweeney as something closer to recitative and my word it works wonderfully, less beautiful but dark and malevolent. It's a career defining performance, I'll never be able to picture Ball as the comically cuddly musical star again, he's just so devilishly good as Sweeney. Staunton is no stronger as a singer but she seizes the role of Lovett and produces a truly remarkable figure. Lovett is the comic counterbalance in some regards but her shrieks of greed haunt just as much as Sweeney's brutality. Though the musical centres heavily on these two, Sondheim provides plenty of great tunes for the supporting characters and each was taken with astonishing strength. Peter Polycarpou is luxury casting as Beadle and John Bowe's Judge was finely sung and acted with gut wrenching hypocrisy. Luke Brady's Anthony and Lucy May Barker's Johanna beacons of brightness amongst the darkness.

Sondheim's "Sweeney Todd" is to my mind one of the finest bits of musical theatre from the last fifty years and I cannot imagine a finer production than that given to it here. Whatever losses come from the slighter voices of Ball and Staunton are more than compensated for by their unsurpassable acting. Not for the faint of heart, but by the bloody conclusion you'll have laughed, cried and been thoroughly moved.

(Review of Performance on Wednesday, May 23rd, 2012 at the Adelphi Theatre)

Watch the Throne

2012-05-26T23:54:00.002+01:00

Jay-Z and Kanye West in concert together... the mere presence of two such superstars in combination more or less ensured that "Watch The Thone" was going to be disgustingly good fun. It was indeed, and they tossed in a brief appearance by Rihanna for good measure.

Production-wise the pair are clever enough to largely let their own megawatt star power speak for itself. There's plenty of fire and some nifty rising platforms at both ends of the arena but the majority of the show is done with little more than conventional lighting and some epic lasers. Both stars wear simple black outfits with a heady dose of bling and there's nothing approaching a costume change all evening. In an age of megabucks productions, "Watch the Throne" is refreshingly focused.

It's a complete hits parade as you would expect, both stars do a fair bit of material on their own coming together to work their way through the "Watch the Throne" album. Highlights are hard to pick though "Jesus Walks" was stratospherically impressive and, though brief, Rihanna's surprise appearance was certainly exciting for its unexpectedness. The night ended in such an audacious manner that you've just got to tip your hat to these guys: "Niggas in Paris" performed no fewer than six times in succession with the crowd whipped into an ever increasing fervour. If that sounds like a lot, they could have done another six encores and the crowd would have lapped it up.

The "Watch The Throne" tour succeeds on just about every level. Both stars are born performers, Jay-Z in particular, a rapper who commands the arena like it was his living room. A majestic evening of pounding beats and superb vocals. The pair continue touring Europe (including coming back to the UK) for the next few weeks, I can't imagine tickets are close to available but I'd recommend doing practically anything to get your mitts on them if you can.

(Review of Performance on Sunday, May 20th, 2012 at the O2 Arena)

Two Roses for Richard III

2012-05-25T02:10:00.001+01:00

I love culturally diverse takes on Shakespeare. Dutch Tragedies and Japanese Comedies have been some of the highlights of my theatregoing life. "Two Roses for Richard III" by Companhia Bufomecânica, a Brazilian company, has been badly missold by the Royal Shakespeare Company however. Purporting to be a visual, imaginative take on Richard III what it really is, is a badly acted, fairly traditional take (albeit including huge edits) with occasional flying and the odd silly mask.

When having multiple Richards is the height of the interpretation it was always going to be a long night (clocking in at just under three hours but feeling much, much longer). The evening fails because aside from the odd stimulating image, the basic Shakespeare (delivered in Portuguese) falls through the cracks. Scenes muddle endlessly on with far too much shouting and not nearly enough sense. Shifting the parts around means that almost all the acting smacked of caricature. Virtually the only moments that really work are when the actors step outside of the characters and banter between each other.

The circus bit and pieces are the strongest elements, creating quirky tableaux that evoke more than just wows. The wire work is a bit clunky however and much of the rest of the stagecraft is fairly amateurish. Projections and lighting aren't well integrated, actors either in darkness or frequently covered in projected plant imagery. The score is interesting, a bit generic perhaps, but though the musicians do fine work, handing drums to some of the cast proves a mistake...

"Two Roses for Richard III" ultimately falls because it never gets to grips with its text. Whatever ambitions Bufomecânica have in the gimmicky circus direction are dashed because they struggle with the basic play. What's weirdest is the RSC have already done this better. Their groundbreaking History Cycle had just as much circus as "Two Roses", and unlike here, the text was delivered with world class brilliance.

(Review of Performance on Saturday, May 19th, 2012 at the Roundhouse Theatre)

The Table

2012-05-24T23:03:00.000+01:00

One table, one puppet, three puppeteers: pure magic. I didn't really have any expectations of "The Table" by Blind Summit Theatre, but even if I did, it would have blown them out of the water. A hugely funny hour of absolute bliss.

As the puppet himself admits within the course of the show, describing "The Table" is rather tricky. It's about one rather cantankerous puppet, on a table, preparing to deliver a poetry epic. He's a puppet with hilarious self-awareness, guiding the audience through what makes him "alive" or not and even exploring the various tricks he is capable of. Though as a show it never really goes anywhere, this is puppet of such epic charisma and vitality that the audience sat on the edges of their seats awaiting his every utterance.

If I sound strange describing this bunraku puppet as if he were real then that is purely as a result of the incredible skill that goes into his creation. Mark Down voices him as well as controlling his head and left arm, while two others, Nick Barnes and Sean Garratt, control other bits of him. They all become part of the puppet and yet retain their own identities (they wear black but are fully unmasked). At the performance I attended an accident involving the puppet's right hand led to some of the finest improv imaginable, a mind-bending bit of meta-theatre, turning a potential problem into the highlight of the evening.

As if the preceding hour weren't incredible enough, the team then returns for a short encore of "French Puppetry" (i.e. puppetry whilst holding cigarettes). This was a mesmerising story told entirely though the medium of simple drawings on paper. If this sounds strange then that's pretty accurate, this really shouldn't have worked, but it was actually one of the most enchanting ten minutes I have enjoyed all year.

You've probably already grasped that "The Table" is essentially pure awesomeness (a word one could define on this show). A simple set-up that takes puppetry to spectacular heights. Blind Summit have been doing the rounds with "The Table" for awhile so I'm not sure you'll get many more chances to see it. I couldn't recommend it more highly.

(Review of Performance on Saturday, May 19th, 2012 at the Soho Theatre)

La clemenza di Tito (Vienna State Opera)

2012-05-24T17:56:00.002+01:00

Oh dear. After last night's "Traviata" I lived in hope that Jurgen Flimm might find something fascinating in Mozart's "La clemenza di Tito". It was not to be, Flimm's production is a terrible example of a director gone wild, a staging ripped through with arbitrary imagery to the detriment of everything else. I'm all for new interpretations, but the connection between opera and stage here was obtuse at best.

Flimm and his set designer, George Tyspin, have apparently decided to set the piece in an abandoned factory once dedicated to the manufacturing of walls. The main set a bizarre production line of big, tatty walls, surrounded by a swishy bar plus token graffiti. The overall feel is not disimilar to some of the underground clubs that have been in vogue of late but the connection to the text and its themes isn't explored. If anything the odd connotations, and sheer volume of props, supernumeraries and half-hearted scenic changes, muddy the waters without providing anything approaching illumination. What works rather better is the individual characterisations which suggest Flimm spent more time with his singers than he did thinking about the overall production. Michael Schade's Tito is shot through with a cynicism that though counter-intuitive, makes coherent sense. Elina Garanca's Sesto aches with conflict and even Juliane Banse's Vitellia acquires a crippling self-doubt that makes her a deeply compelling character.

The musical standards should have been stratospheric but in the end they just verged on the great without ever quite achieving it. That is with the exception of Garanca's unfathomably impressive performance. She's a singer who blends a rich resonance with precise, agile coloratura that completely stuns. An endlessly malleable singer who somehow convinces as a man despite being distinctly girlish in looks. Schade on the other hand, is the night's biggest disappointment. He's got a beautiful voice when the music sits right for him (which was by no means all the time), but his peculiar dynamics, singing many phrases with inexplicable fortes and pianos, leant his sound a choppy quality. Banse had a few teething problems at the top but mostly impressed, Chen Reiss delivered Servilia with an appealing sultry quality and Serena Malfi, whilst never dominating the stage, was superb in an understated fashion. Adam Plachetka sang faultlessly but personality was thin on the ground.

The boos that greeted the production team's curtain call were all too predictable and frankly: deserved. A production of sheer obfuscation, as littered intellectually as it was visually. Musically plenty was good, Louis Langree keeping the tempos moving throughout, with only Schade below par. But all in all it ended up a flat, rather dispiriting evening.

(Review of Performance on Thursday, May 17th, 2012 at the Wiener Staatsoper)

La Traviata (Vienna State Opera)

2012-05-23T23:25:00.000+01:00

After two nights of aging productions, next up was "La Traviata" in a new production by Jean-Francois Sivadier from earlier this season. As massively different from those traditional stagings as it's possible to imagine, though in terms of directorial ideas this "Traviata" proves just as empty. Thankfully the singing and playing was a class above, Ermonela Jaho for the first time fully unleashing as Violetta.

To all intents and purposes this is a black box production with added clouds. Though riddled with directorial tics there's no substantial overall concept (or at least not a comprehensible one). Bits and pieces work, Violetta's coveting of her single dress and the final painful fall of glitter are nice touches, but the net effect is negligible. Sivadier just doesn't stick to his thesis strongly enough; meta-theatrical elements are toyed with, a silent stage manager figure and Annina acting as guides to Violetta, but their presence is too fragmentary and never achieves coherency. Seldom distracting but basically underwhelming.

Musically it was a fine night. Bertrand de Billy's hand was firmly on the tiller, leading a lean, mean rendition of the score. Jaho was on extremely fine form, spinning beautiful long lines in a manner I didn't think she was capable. She's that rare soprano: one who could actually pass for a consumptive, and sang her varied music with faultless sincerity. Zeljko Lucic couldn't be accused of subtlety but his huge baritone has a genuine Verdian ring. Not quite on the same level was Francesco Demuro's Alfredo. Demuro does a good impression of an Italian tenor but it all felt like hard work. Enormous breaths and short phrases, it wasn't his night.

Though the production is a damp squib the aural experience was quite lovely. Jaho is becoming a truly wonderful soprano, I look forward to hearing much more from her in the future, and under de Billy there was much good music making all round. Adventurous productions are always high risk but Sivadier's staging really fails because beneath all the chair throwing, there isn't really anything there.

(Review of Performance on Wednesday, May 16th, 2012 at the Wiener Staatsoper)

Il barbiere di Sivilia (Vienna State Opera)

2012-05-23T23:19:00.001+01:00

Fresh from the moth balls of the previous evening's "Salome", night two of my brief Vienna trip was "Il Barbiere di Sivilia" in a production that is, if you can believe it, even older. Some substantial tinkering has clearly taken place however, this staging based on the original production rather than following it to the letter, and though a touch dated there was much to enjoy both musically and visually.

The set is the only element that really shows its age. A three story doll's house that places the action firmly in period. The overall look is entirely pretty, pale yellow walls and creeping vines evoking sunny Seville, but the props look a little worn and the simple lighting doesn't have the depth of more contemporary work. In all other regards the staging hums with life, lots of physical comedy and snappy character interactions. Limited rehearsals meant the chemistry between the players wasn't great, but there was more than enough wit to get us from start to finish with consistent laughs.

A standard repertory night for Vienna and musical standards were as a result a bit uneven. Singers spent alarming amounts of time staring straight at Michael Guttler, the conductor, and stage and pit still failed to consistently cohere. Best of the bunch was Adrian Erod's sparky Figaro. He was easily the most comfortable of the performers, producing an easygoing, genuinely funny Barber, and had excellent diction and an unusually bright tone. The rest were solid but uninspiring. Alfred Sramek and Janusz Monarcha were a sturdy pair as Dr Bartolo and Don Basilio while Benjamin Bruns and Laura Polverelli just about charmed as the young lovers (though Bruns didn't really get going till after the interval).

A very pleasant evening. Though it didn't quite achieve either the comic or emotional heights "Barbiere" is capable of, the show hummed along with sufficient warmth to send the audience out humming a happy tune. Erod remains one of Vienna's best kept secrets and though the cast around him weren't at quite the same level, no one let the side down. Charming.

(Review of Performance on Tuesday, May 15th, 2012 at the Wiener Staatsoper)

Salome (Vienna State Opera)

2012-05-18T19:14:00.000+01:00

The Vienna State Opera could easily claim to have the most diverse line-up of productions in its repertory anywhere in the world. You can be watching regietheatre at its most extreme one night and a production so musty you virtually spot the moths the next. I'm expecting a bit of both over the next few nights but their Boleslaw Barlog production of "Salome" sits very much in the latter camp, being a good 40 years old and looking it.

The single, solid but drab looking, set has hints of Klimt-like symbolism, but everything else on stage oozes old school opera. The "naturalistic" costumes look like they've been stolen from Monty Python's "Life of Brian" and the blocking reeks of arms akimbo, park and bark silliness. The dance of the seven veils, a real nadir in Lise Linstrom's otherwise sterling performance, is rendered in this production as a meander of the seven table cloths; A sexless affair involving ugly sheets being removed from Salome's body whilst she trundled the stage, the event culminating in a body sock that provoked more giggles than shocks.

Musically the pit brought the evening's greatest strength and also its greatest (musical) weakness. Ulf Schirmer led a blistering assault on Strauss's score, reveling in the nastiness but also finding gorgeous beauty, particularly in the divine Vienna Opera Orchestra string section. The problem unfortunately was that the sheer wealth of sound made it effectively impossible for some of the singers to be heard.

In the case of Thomas Moser's Herod this was a real pity as what made it to my ears was thoughtfully and dramatically sung. In the case of Dame Gwyneth Jones, who is now in her mid 70s, it was a great blessing as the orchestra mostly covered the fact that she has virtually no voice left (why on earth she thought of tackling Herodias at this point in her life I have no idea). Markus Marquardt fared well as Jochanaan, though on some level that was simply because he could be heard and didn't have to strain too hard. Marian Talaba's Narraboth got it easy with the relatively light music of the early portion of the evening, but he produced a elegant, round sound that enchanted until he slit his throat to giggles all round. Lindstrom mixed power with accuracy to deliver a winning Salome. She couldn't avoid occasionally being washed out by the orchestra but by and large she marshaled her resources well, having no stamina issues at all. The dance was hopeless but she can't really be blamed for that.

There are plenty of aging traditional productions that still work but I can't imagine this "Salome" worked all that well when it was new. A cod-naturalistic rendering of the work resulting in more guffaws than gulps. It would be impossible to imagine a more overwhelming account of the score however and with the exception of Jones the singing was largely impressive. I'm here for four nights and if "Salome" didn't exactly kick my trip off with a bang, it wasn't a whimper either.

(Review of Performance on Monday, May 14th, 2012 at the Wiener Staatsoper)

Babel

2012-05-18T15:40:00.001+01:00

Hmmmm. I'd like to say "Babel" is great, a big community project with its heart in the right place, but I'm afraid it isn't. In fact it isn't even good, "Babel" is absolutely terrible. Site-specific theatre of the very worst kind.

Arriving at Caledonian Park in Islington the omens looked good. Relative to the previous few days the weather wasn't bad (though why they aren't putting this on in June/July I'll never know) and the eerie music evoked a jot of atmosphere as the audience queued to get in. The evening then begins with a sufficiently quirky meander around the park, the amateur cast scattered about performing domestic tasks such as ironing up a tree, that my interest was at least peaked.

However once the audience arrives at the main site, which looks like a cross between Occupy Wall Street and Tatooine, the evening collapses in a heap. For the first forty minutes or so the audience is free to check out the area, play at arts and crafts (knitting anyone?) or attempt to enjoy one of the performance stages. It briefly takes on the dimensions of a basic music festival, though the musical standards were not high excepting a decent beatboxing group.

If this is mildly enjoyable (very mildly), once the actual "play" kicks off all hope of pleasure is lost. The text, such as it is, hits every painfully "relevant" cultural note you could ask for, oppressive police, oppressed masses etc. with a bit of mythological schtick tossed in for good measure. There's lots of shouting, a hopeless villain and some projections. The audience are pushed around a little but basically it's a miserable script attempting to hide just how bad its dialogue is by packaging it in a site-specific format.

Dismal really, and at 25 pounds a pop I left feeling I'd both wasted my time and been swindled. So much potential and money squandered on a script that should have been binned long before it made it to performance. Risky theatre will inevitably turn up failures, the trouble with "Babel" is: it doesn't even feel risky.

(Review of Performance on Sunday, May 13th, 2012 at Caledonian Park)

Collaborators

2012-05-18T00:03:00.003+01:00

When John Hodge's "Collaborators" walked away with Best Play at the Oliviers it immediately sprung onto my list of must sees. Bizarrely almost everyone I had spoken to viewed it as a good not great bit of drama but there must have been something worthwhile in the mix for it to triumph over everything else. Since I wasn't in London when it played in the Cottesloe I had to make do with the revamped Olivier production. Frankly, everyone I spoke to was right, it's a good not great play.

I should start by saying its very obvious that the production was originally intended for a smaller space. Though Bob Crowley has imagined a quite spectacular vortex of a set, I did a double take when I entered the theatre so impressive is the design, both the play and the staging are not ideal for the Olivier's scale. The larger space exposes Nick Hytner's direction as intended for a smaller venue. No amount of walking around in loops and oddly shaped boxes of light can disguise the fact that the bulk of the play takes place around a single, small table.

"Collaborators" boils down to a two-hander between an unhinged Stalin and a timid Bulgakov. Riffing on historical truth, Hodges creates a series of fanciful meetings between the two during which issues of art, politics and truth get tossed about to mixed effect. The ground covered isn't exactly revelatory but its spun in a zany enough way to remain interesting. The tight focus on the lead pair works heavily in favour of Simon Russell Beale's brilliant, larger than life Stalin. Alex Jennings's much straighter, more nuanced Bulgakov gets lost by comparison. The rest of the cast bring their parts to life though the sheer number of extraneous characters gets a bit tiresome, especially because each acts as something of a device to get across the various social strata of Soviet society.

A fun couple of hours with just enough laughter and intelligence to sustain. That this won best play says little for the quality of new plays in the West End this year, but in a smaller space I suspect it worked better than it now does in the Olivier. Mind you, just gazing at Crowley's mind bending set is almost worth the price of entry alone.

(Review of Performance on Sunday, May 13th, 2012 at the National Theatre, Olivier)

The Flying Dutchman (English National Opera)

2012-05-17T00:28:00.003+01:00

I've missed the English National Opera. For all their ups and downs they produce the sort of opera that virtually isn't seen in New York. Opera as living breathing theatre, not some sacred cow to be worshipped. Their new "Flying Dutchman" staging undeniably has its flaws, though the good far outweighed the bad, and thanks to musical standards that put some of the Metropolitan Opera's recent efforts to shame, the overall impact is magnificent.

Jonathan Kent's staging won't take home garlands for originality combining two of the commonest opera director tropes: "it's all a dream" and projected waves. It is however carefully constructed, the internal logic of the staging effective from first to last. The narrative clicks, indeed, once the child and bed disappear with the arrival of adult Senta, it's all fairly straightforward. A single sturdy set adapts as both ship and factory, a better factory than boat it must be said. Kent gets a bit heavy handed at times, the looming Dutchman's ship arrives clunkily and the crazed party of the sailors is overdone with inflatables and parrot costumes, but overall the staging scores highly.

Musically, I could hardly believe just how good this sounded. Edward Gardner is never one for timid readings but the full bore rendition, the overture a rollercoaster ride from start to finish, was marvellous. I've never heard the ENO orchestra play better. The singers if not quite on a par with the orchestra were an impressive bunch. James Creswell is neither the most imposing nor most moving Dutchman you'll find but he sang with great dignity and power. There's a slight rough edge to his voice that while not beautiful suited the role brilliantly. Conversely Stuart Skelton, recently Siegmunding in NYC, produced an Eric of peerless vocal beauty. A performance so perfectly pitched I could almost feel myself rooting for him. Clive Bayley acted an intelligently repressed Daland and though he doesn't strike me as a natural Wagnerian, worked his bass effectively. Robert Murray rounded out the men with a bell like Steersman. Orla Boylan began her Senta with some unusually sensitive and attractive singing. It wasn't all quite so strong however, her latter stages dominated by strident top notes.

A very fine performance, driven by a quite superb account of Wagner's score from Gardner in the pit. Kent's production has its ups and downs but succeeds because no matter what weird and wonderful additions Kent makes, he tells the story with clarity. Tickets are plentiful for the last couple of performances and anyone with even a hint of interest in good theatre should head on down to the ENO.

(Review of Performance on Saturday, May 12th, 2012 at the London Coliseum)

La fille mal gardée (Royal Ballet)

2012-05-16T21:41:00.001+01:00

"La fille mal gardée" is a ballet that manages to surprise me every time I see it. I wear enormous rose tinted goggles regarding my trips to it as a child and yet it still reliably bowls me over today. The most enchanting, heart warming story ballet in existence.

To describe "Fille" would give the impression that it's a lightweight confectionary of limited scope. Narratively that's true, it's an archetypal tale with virtually no deviation from the norm and yet in Ashton's choreography it becomes so much more. Each character sings with life, even the chickens feel like 3D creations. The production is getting on a bit but there's a lot of life in the bucolic sets, and despite how dated the effects have become, the conclusion of Act I is still a visual treat.

The dancing at this performance was truly excellent. Roberta Marquez has never been the flashiest of dancers but her unaffected style worked wonderfully for Lise. Gorgeously poised with all the delicate footwork the part requires perfectly in place. Steven McRae on the other hand delivers flash in spades, he has an almost improbable ability to always squeeze in an extra turn and does so as if it were the easiest thing in the world. As a partnership they soared, the one-handed lifts in particular delivered apparently effortlessly. The entire company were superb, the character roles played with delightful hamminess.

I love this ballet to bits: the choreography, sets, costumes and even the patchwork score always send me out of the theatre with the happiest of hearts. A ballet that should be required viewing for all of humanity. Beautifully danced and acted by this tremendous cast, a five star night out if ever there was one.

(Review of Performance on Friday, May 11th, 2012 at the Royal Opera House)

Misterman

2012-05-15T22:49:00.002+01:00

Back in the UK and straight back to the National Theatre. "Misterman", a one-man show written and directed by Enda Walsh and starring Cillian Murphy, was actually briefly seen in New York last Christmas, but I happened to be in the UK at the time! To stage a one-man show in the Lyttelton smacks of insanity, but all praise, they've pulled it off.

There's more than a touch of the Beckettian in Walsh's messiah complex driven Thomas Magill. We find him confined in a huge factory space, a spectacular bit of stage design by Jamie Vartan, dashing about like a deranged animal. Over the course of the play, running as a nippy 90 minutes, no interval, Thomas relives a day of his life through a series of audio recordings (think Krapp's Last Tape) that litter the stage. It's all very Irish, very bleak and eventually very nasty.

The huge open space is quite brilliantly designed with gorgeous lighting and slick sound design, but there's no getting away from the fact that Murphy is on his lonesome and hugely exposed. Thankfully, Murphy delivers a masterclass in stage dominance. Hurtling about breathlessly for the duration whilst still finding an emotional stillness that completely stuns. By the gripping finish he's dripping with sweat and the audience was glued to their seats.

"Misterman" shouldn't work but it really does. A heart in the mouth experience that is completely exhausting but entirely worthwhile. I'm not sure I know what Walsh was really aiming for, the meanings could be many or few, but in the end it doesn't really matter. Making you think whilst making you care, "Misterman" is great theatre.

(Review of Performance on Thursday, May 10th, 2012 at the National Theatre, Lyttelton)

New York City Ballet Quad Bill (Night/Cage/Andantino/InG)

2012-05-14T00:14:00.001+01:00

I'm going to be away for almost the entirety of the New York City Ballet's (NYCB) summer season this year but I thought I'd catch a single bill before I went. An all-Robbins bill with a couple of great works, an enjoyable one and a short work that lost me completely.

Opening the show, "In The Night" has that indefinable emotive quality that, at his best, Robbins does better than almost anyone else. A series of duets each of which somehow capture a mini dance drama using only the simplest of movements. Each glance tells a whole narrative and as these couples come together and move apart the sparks fly. Supremely well danced by all involved, it was a ravishing start to the evening.

The second work "The Cage" is a fascinating, somewhat terrifying, work that misses its central conceit and still manages to soar. Extremely distinctive visually, Robbins creates a creepy world of insects through sharp, angular movement. Though the theme of women devouring men, a theme he lifts from the animal world, don't ever fully emerge the overall force of the work means this doesn't really matter. The surging female corps appear and disappear to startling effect, while Wendy Whelan and Rebecca Krohn control, manipulate and entice the two doomed men with ease.

"Andantino" on the other hand, is eight minutes of dance I could happily have done without. A light, polite duet that though prettily danced by Tiler Peck and Gonzalo Garcia amounted to very little and sat very uneasily next to the drama of the previous two ballets. Harmless stuff, but the evening would have been better if they'd skipped this ballet altogether.

Rounding out the bill, "In G Major" strikes a similar frothy note to "Andantino" but has a bit more life in it, in no small part thanks to Ravel's enchanting score. The lightweight tone is matched by the playful costumes and simple backcloth, a summery beach setting that charms. The central duet never quite reaches the brilliance of "In the Night" but as danced by Sterling Hyltin and Adrian Danchig-Waring it still gave the ballet a warm core.

A solid if imperfect bill. Though it had a very short running time (none of the works went much over 20 minutes) it still felt over-padded thanks to the unnecessary "Andantino". The dancing was strong, Wendy Whelan in particular, proving herself as ever quite the trooper: subbing into the first ballet and still stunning in the second. This'll pretty much be it for my NYCB season this summer, but I look forward to their return later on this year.

(Review of Performance on Tuesday, May 8th, 2012 at the David H. Koch Theater)

The Best Man

2012-05-12T22:51:00.001+01:00

The cast of "The Best Man" by Gore Vidal is an ideas driven piece with characters artfully constructed to score philosophical points. Though the odd moment transcends the device ridden structure, it's a limitation that even this most glittering of casts could not fully overcome. The evening never quite coalesces into something truly potent, but it's still consistently witty and mostly thought provoking.

"The Best Man" is also very much of its time, set during a Philadelphia Presidential Convention in 1960, and what was contemporary in 1960 naturally feels a bit dated in 2012. Some elements benefit from the distance, ethics don't date and the fact that many of the arguments remain relevant today hits home with some force. Other elements suffer badly, particularly the endless period references that today are firmly in the history books.

Vidal presents his arguments through a straightforward face off between a liberal, intellectual candidate William Russell, played by the excellent John Larroquette, and a devious viper of a candidate Joseph Cantwell, played with winning venom by Eric McCormack. The debate rages impressively, and leads to some quite brilliant zinging one liners but despite the extremely fine acting neither figure even really emerges as a fully human figure. More effective are the people who surround them, their wives and varied influencers. Russell's wife, a brilliant Candice Bergman, emerges as the emotional heart of the show, sacrificing herself at the alter of politics.

Much press has naturally been devoted to the presence of Angela Lansbury and James Earl Jones and neither disappoints. Lansbury's stage time is fairly brief but her moments as the party dinosaur Mrs. Gamadge are quite hysterical. I can honestly say I never thought I'd hear Lansbury wittering away about birth control. Earl Jones gets rather stage time and produces a performance of near perfection as a former president. Superbly funny but pitched perfectly such that he never quite becomes a caricature, he steals the show out from under everyone else.

"The Best Man" is an interesting, funny play but it has lost something over the last fifty years. The production presents the drama entirely straightforwardly and though the performances are fantastic across the board the text has problems that can't be fully overcome. Well worth a look but more for curiosity value than real impact.

(Review of Performance on Sunday, May 6th, 2012 at the Gerald Schoenfeld Theatre)