Don Quixote - Royal Opera House

Statue of Don Quixote

This was, surprisingly, my first time inside the hallowed walls of the Royal Opera House. I liked it, but not as much as the Coliseum.

Don Quixote the ballet is simple story-wise: the titular Don leaves home with the buffoonish Sancho Panza on a quest to do chivalrous deeds in the manner of medieval knights errant. Most of the ballet focuses on the love story between Kitri, the daughter of an innkeeper, and Basilio, an impecunious barber, residents of the village Don Quixote happens upon. Don Quixote eventually manages to get Kitri's disapproving father to bless their match, and happiness ensues.

Yasmine Naghdi and Marcelino Sambé were excellent as Kitri and Basilio - dancing aside (which I certainly can't fault), they had great chemistry and vibrant smiles, and I liked Kitri's poppy-esque costume. The role of Kitri involved more successive pirouettes(?) than I think I've ever seen performed before. Don Quixote (Gary Avis) was a sympathetic character - kind, well-intentioned, prone to delusions - his visions of Dulcinea (Gina Storm-Jensen), his imaginary Lady, were quite moving.

I enjoyed the variety of scenes and sets, including Don Quixote's bedroom and the sun-baked Spanish village where most of the action took place. My favourite bit was Act II, featuring gypsies, Don Quixote mistaking a windmill for a monster, and a dream interlude in a magic garden, presided over by the Queen of the Dryads (Claire Calvert). The gypsy scenes were atmospheric, especially with the flamenco moves around the fire, and the magic garden set was exquisite, with big flowers hanging over the stage and sparkly different coloured tutus worn by the dryads. My second favourite was the wedding scene, because I loved the dancing. In these ballet village scenes I enjoy observing the interactions of the 'village people' (not those village people) while they watch the dancing. There was a couple on a roof terrace overlooking the village square who added a certain je ne sais quois to the proceedings.

The 'villain' of the piece was a big box of tissues brought by the sickly couple next to me. It was positioned in such a way that a sizeable part of it jutted over the edge of the ledge immediately in front of us. We were seated at a right angle to the stage, and the jutting box obscured part of my view, which was already somewhat obscured. I would've said something at the first interval, but thankfully they re-positioned the box themselves. Oh, the trials of the Royal Opera House!

photo credit: Zygia El ingenioso hidalgo don Quixote de la Mancha via photopin (license)

Next: HMS Pinafore

Strike up the Band - Upstairs at the Gatehouse

Lovely CHEESE! 

This was a bizarre show. The premise was unusual, the plot ridiculous and the tone inconsistent. I enjoyed it very much, but can understand why it has been a 'lost' Gershwin musical until now. There were many bemused murmurings at the interval and the murmurers didn't return to see the second act.

Basic plot: Horace J. Fletcher, the owner of a successful cheese factory in America, declares war on Switzerland over a trivial trade issue. Subplot: two (kind of three) love stories. It's set in 1927. There were several references to Donald Trump, whom Fletcher (played by Richard Emerson) resembled uncannily in terms of outlook and attitude. Maybe the plot wasn't that far-fetched after all...😬

One of the reasons why I enjoyed this was because I liked the songs, and the singing was superlative. I could have listened to Charlotte Christensen (Anne Draper) all day long. Her delightfully 20s blue tunic was good too. I also enjoyed the tap dancing joyously executed by Sammy Graham.

The character/performance that 'made' the show was George Spelvin (David Francis), the spy (at least, I think that's what he turned out to be in the denouement). I'm not sure whether it was the script, Francis's characterisation, or both, but the humour he brought was a different kind of humour to the show's dominant punny/word-play humour. It was weirder and more surrealist, and I found it and him laugh out loud funny. His character pretended to be several different people and they were all hilarious.

The tone of this oeuvre was inconsistent. It was 80% comedy - and really, really ridiculous comedy - but some it was supposed to be taken seriously by the audience, namely the burgeoning romance between Joan Fletcher (Beth Burrows) and Jim Townsend (Paul Biggin), and Townsend's various acts of integrity and heroism. But in the context of a risible plot (featuring a spurious cheese-related war fought by employees of a cheese factory, soldiers enjoying said war, yodelling), you couldn't take anything seriously. I have no problem with a ridiculous plot (see: Comedy of Errors, The Mikado) but I do have a problem with jarring, implausible changes in tone.

The bit that came closest to genuine pathos was the scene on the boat returning from Switzerland, in which Fletcher and Mrs Draper (Pippa Winslow) shared mildly affectionate feelings for one another, while struggling with seasickness.

Next: Don Quixote

The Bacchae - Hampstead Parish Church

Ancient Greek sculptured scene apparently featuring Euripedes

It's taken me several weeks to get over this production, hence the delay in the review. This play was one sick puppy. I've managed to erase the content of most of the speeches in the second act from my memory, so I can't discuss them in detail. Just be sure that their subject matter was abhorrent, foul and deeply unpleasant.

A play hailing from ancient Greek times, The Bacchae is structured differently to your average modern play, with ridiculously long speeches and important events happening offstage and then described in said speeches rather than performed in front of the audience. Which was just as well for this disturbing oeuvre.

The Bacchae sees the women of Thebes eschewing their domestic duties and fleeing to the mountains to perform Bacchic rites, having been entranced by the god Dionysus (Matthew Williams). However, Dionysus, while initially coming across as fairly mellow albeit arrogant (especially in comparison to the uptight ruler of Thebes, Pentheus (Nicolas Holzapfel)), turns out to be a violent sociopath, wreaking horrific acts of vengeance on Pentheus and his family.

My highlights:

• The titular Bacchae. There were eight Bacchants who were on stage nearly all the time. The Bacchae were entrancing to watch - while they were a group, I liked the fact that they seemed to have distinctive personalities. For example, they reacted differently when the depths of Dionysus' depravity was revealed. Their interactions with each other - the hair stroking and loving looks and touching - made their ménage seem rather appealing. It was a shame they left Thebes to follow Dionysus rather than found a proto-feminist commune. The song one of them sang was really beautiful and I enjoyed the dancing too. Their movements were very fluid and well-choreographed.

• The barbs exchanged between Dionysus and Pentheus; the former provocatively laid-back and the latter displaying classic Type A personality traits. One felt more sympathetic towards Dionysus at this point but...this was to change.

• Pentheus disguised as a woman. Nuff said.

• The transition from amusement to horror. One minute we were all giggling at Pentheus and his female disguise, the next we were shocked and appalled. Since the horrific acts in question weren't depicted on stage, the person principally responsible for changing the play's and audience's mood was the Messenger (Catherine Martin), who recounted the sorry tale of Pentheus' fate. Her recounting of this story was moving and it completely changed one's feelings towards Pentheus and Dionysus.

• The tragic exchange between Agave, Pentheus' mother (Anna Rolfe), and her father, Cadmus (Simon Malpas). 

The Bacchae was well-paced, and even though I was aware beforehand that the speeches would be really long, they didn't feel long both because they were well-performed and because there were always interesting background happenings to watch, such as the antics of the Bacchae.

I give this production four papier-mâché heads and half a thyrsus out of five.

photo credit: Sebastià Giralt L'escena dóna una màscara a Eurípides davant Dionís, Museu Arqueològic d'Istambul via photopin (license)

Sleeping Beauty - London Coliseum

Alien Sleeping Beauty - nothing like the ballet

This was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. I had high expectations for it but didn't think it would come close to Matthew Bourne's version, which was not only magical and atmospheric but strong on the story-telling front. Bourne's protagonists had definite personalities and relatable, absorbing storylines. The traditional Sleeping Beauty is more a collection of showpiece dances, most of which do nothing to further the plot, and Aurora and the Prince couldn't exactly be mistaken for complex characters.

However, this production reminded me of the amazingness of traditional choreography, and I was blown away by the costumes, sets and atmosphere.

The 'Aurora' for best costume has to go to the Fairy of Benevolence, who wore a cornflower blue tutu with lots of sparkles and a headpiece to which it would be impossible for me to do justice. The only dud costume was that worn by one of the princes in the Rose Adagio, which made him resemble a cross between Oliver Cromwell and a hippy. I liked the fact that the courtiers'/townspeoples' costumes started off as late 17th century and 100 years later they were proper late 18th century Gainsborough-esque outfits. Because this was a fairytale I wasn't sure they would pay such attention to detail. But they did.

Highlights for me:

• The entrance of Carabosse (Fabian Reimair) in a sinister little carriage, accompanied by bald minions
• The Fairies pleading with Carabosse through highly elegant mimes and being rebuffed
• The Garland Waltz, danced by the townspeople
• The Rose Adagio - I'm sure the final part of the music was slower than usual, which made Aurora's (Erina Takahashi's) being on pointe for that length of time even more impressive
• Aurora's 'sleep throes' - so elegant and moving
• The Lilac Fairy (Shiori Kase) casting the spell over the palace that sends its inhabitants to sleep. It was a truly magical moment and the Lilac Fairy's mimes in that scene were exquisite. Exquisite
• The Lilac Fairy entering the forest on board a little SHIP and travelling through the forest on said ship to the accompaniment of smoke
• Basically every scene with the Lilac Fairy, who was my favourite character
• The wedding celebration dances of Aurora and the Prince (Aitor Arrieta) - both solos and pas de deux

It amused me that the Prince hardly had to put any effort into finding and rousing Aurora. Doesn't he at least have to hack away thick and stubborn foliage in the fairytale? In this, the Lilac Fairy does EVERYTHING: takes him through the forest, banishes Carabosse and her minions and even confirms, when the Prince expresses uncertainty, that he needs to kiss Aurora in order to wake her up.

I give this production 4.5 spindle pricks out of  5.

photo credit: the_alien_experience Sleeping Beauty - The Kiss of Life via photopin (license)

Next: The Bacchae

Coraline - Barbican Theatre

Button with needle and thread

Even though I knew this was a Royal Opera production, for some reason I wasn't expecting it to be a proper opera - I'd envisaged it more as a musical. Perhaps because it's a children's story? But it was a proper opera. And it was weird to hear very ordinary lines such as 'I'm bored' sung operatically.

Based on Neil Gaiman's book of the same name, Coraline is an original, fantastical story about a girl who moves house and soon discovers a passage that takes her to a mirror version of the house, inhabited by a set of identical parents (that is, identical to Coraline's real parents, not to each other) with buttons for eyes. It's a disturbing story and my eight-year-old self might have found the opera too scary. Especially the bit with the disembodied hand. The idea of having one's eyes replaced by buttons is also highly discomforting. For me, even just the idea of being alone in a big new house at night is quite scary.

Before the show started we were informed that Kitty Whately, who was playing Coraline's mother/Other Mother, was recovering from illness. I was nervous lest this would become apparent in her performance, but it didn't. She made a creepy, beguiling, terrifying Other Mother and was the most captivating character in the show. It took a while to get used to an adult (Mary Bevan) playing Coraline, but once you did she was relatable and enjoyable to watch.

Coraline was extremely engaging and I was on tenterhooks throughout, despite knowing what happens, having watched the film and listened to the audiobook. I wasn't that keen on the actual music, though - I doubt I'd enjoy listening to it outside the context of the opera - there was no strong melody that I was able to remember afterwards. I found the music didn't vary much from scene to scene, with the slight exception of the scenes with the eccentric neighbours.

One of my favourite scenes was that in which Coraline is kicked out of the house and meets the former child inhabitants of the house and victims of the Other Mother. It was simultaneously moving and funny. I liked that the former child inhabitants were from different eras - Georgian, Victorian and 1970s. The 1970s child's interpretation of the events leading to his entrapment was amusing.

Next: I don't know. Globe?

Satyagraha - London Coliseum

Gandhi-ish figure

There are three elements one can reliably expect from a Philip Glass opera:

1. Repetition

2. Extreme slowness of movement

3. Unpredictability (in areas other than 1. and 2.)

Satyagraha did not disappoint in any of the above, although I admit to feeling a little restless during the last 15 minutes of the 3.5 hour performance when the main motif of the final song was entering its fiftieth repetition. 

Philip Glass operas lull me into a deep meditative, mesmeric state, such that it doesn't hugely matter how much I understand of what's going on. Which was just as well with this one, given that my Sanskrit comprehension is non-existent and we didn't have a programme (they were sold out).

When I say they lull me into a meditative state, I don't mean that my mind is blank, unaffected by the story and music. I found Satyagraha very moving and beautiful, as I did Akhnaten. You can understand the emotions conveyed by the actors and songs even if you can't understand the words.

Satyagraha portrayed Gandhi’s early years in South Africa, tracing the progress of his concept of non-violent protest as a positive force for change. There were a few other visionary characters depicted, including the back of Martin Luther King, who, using very slow, repetitive movements, acted out speaking to an imaginary crowd for about half an hour at the end while Gandhi sang.

One of the visual motifs used throughout was newspapers...words and pictures beamed onto held up newspapers, people reading newspapers, people throwing newspapers, people writhing among newspapers. My favourite scene featured a line of stereotypically Celtic-looking men with fake beards reading newspapers before proceeding to scrunch them up and pelt Gandhi with them, leading to a European woman coming to his defence. And there were amazing papier-mâché giants of different shapes and sizes that came stalking out at one point. Wonderful!

The person who impressed me most was Karen Kamensek, the conductor. The fact that it's humanly possible to successfully conduct a Philip Glass opera - retaining concentration for that length of time, on music with that level of repetitiveness - blows my mind.

Next: Surprise!

Austentatious - Piccadilly Theatre

Pride and Prejudice painted on some form of block

I was expecting to really enjoy this. I mean,

1) I love Jane Austen and am familiar with her works. 

2) I love the concept of a comedic, full-length improvised play in the style of Austen based on a humorous, bastardised Austen book title suggested by an audience member.

3) I have a sense of humour.

So...why didn't I like it?

First, I'll pay tribute to the set and costumes, which were excellent. The set started off as a wooden crate, which fell open when the title for the play had been decided upon, to reveal an impressive Regency drawing room interior. The costumes were all that one could wish for in a Regency-era play. The music, played by two musicians (violin and piano?) was also fitting and added to the humour.

The chosen title for the play was 'Seasoning and Seasonality', and began with one of the gentlemen adding seasoning to a meal. The improvisation was very clever - the cast's ability to craft a multi-layered storyline while constantly coming up with witticisms was impressive.

However, I didn't like it because I'd been expecting it to be set completely in the Regency era, and draw more from Austen novels trope-wise. I'd thought that was the point of it: to perform a comedic, parodic, ridiculous Austen-esque story - set at the time at which Austen's books are set. I'd imagined that was part of the challenge, and would be one of the main sources of humour.

Instead, they did an improvisation in Regency garb, loosely set during the Regency period, with a ton of modern references. Several of the scenes took place in a Lidl supermarket. One of the characters played a cashier. Aldi was also mentioned. There were parts that I found genuinely funny, like the  confusion over the boundaries of the indoor fire, the 'spectacular', and the flashback (all of which would've worked in a more authentically Austen-esque improvisation), but overall, the constant modern references rendered it less creative and clever to me than if they'd stuck to what I'd imagined was the brief. And less funny. But most of the audience seemed to find it hilarious, so I accept I'm an outlier.

Next: Satyagraha

photo credit: steeljam bb Pride and Prejudice Bloomsbury 9497 Back via photopin (license)