After their Bag of Bones delight, the Manchester Collective are unstoppable in their scope and creativity. In tours all around the UK, it would be a delightfully morbid night in Bristol at Strange Brew that they offered up another stellar concert.
As if were weren’t treated enough we had a warm up act that of Harrga. Dali se Saint Paul and Miguel Prado remain a fascinating duo. Sat in the front row, their sonic offering was not blazing loud, more a sort of political upset in sound, It worked well, Dali appearing more busy in their vocal work, though Miguel helped create the crumbling, formulated noise. Dali has a resounding voice, proven in little moments of opera and French, there is a pressure in the work as if we are hearing a manifesto or a protest of some kind. My plus one had seen them before and spoke well. They were a fine addition prior to the Collective’s feature event.
Starting off with Carrot Revolution by Gabriella Smith, the piece could only be described as The Straight Story on acid. It remained quite thrilling, it’s country vibe brought smiles and head bopping jerks. The String Quartet No. 2 from Edmund Finnis was next and had a soft, sensuality to it, the string quartet much more subdued in moments in the mostly enticing thing. Moor Mother’s DREAM CULTURE had a volcanic presence to it, a strange urban fiver permeated the work and proves the value of the composer in perhaps soundtrack form. It deserves more listening time (we got to digest it before an interval) and also the collaboration with Harrga proves elaborate more tingly music making.
Respite would heard the second movement of Schubert’s 14th String Quartet, better known as ‘Death and the Maiden’. It has to be said that this was performed exceptionally well. The kinetic energy between the four players. It was as if the work has never been done before, their emotive grip never wained the tenderness and passion abound forever. With no pause, they burst into the main event: George Crumb’s Black Angels. Here everything came into its own from the recently departed American composer in his best known piece. There is everything in this: shouting, glasses filled with water, German, thimbles, tam-tams and more delights. A fairly dense offering, the Collective made it all their own, the sheet music massively presented in front of them. Even the Schubert we just heard is quoted, touching moments unfurl with a mock viol-consort sees them play high on their instruments. I found the water glass moments incredibly moving.
I’m already thinking of their new event: Rosewood with guitarist Sean Shibe featuring John Cage, Julius Eastman and new work as well. I can’t believe my luck!
In December 1922, twenty-eight-year-old Edith Thompson was put on trial for inciting the murder of her husband, Percy Thompson. Just two months earlier, twenty-year-old Frederick Bywaters had stabbed Percy as he walked home. The prosecution claimed Edith told him to do it, using love letters sent to Frederick from Edith as evidence. Edith was found guilty, but this verdict inspired a petition signed by over a million people.
The bizarre ‘love-triangle’ between Edith, her husband and her lover, Freddy, is an intriguing tale and there is even a website ‘dedicated to the memory and innocence of Edith Jessie Thompson who died aged 29 at Holloway Prison on 9 January 1923’ filled with transcripts, press coverage, copies of the love letters and reams of photographs- one particularly odd addition, showing Edith between Freddy and her husband, Freddy’s head on her hip and Edith embracing it. It’s certainly worth a glimpse if you’d like to find out more- https://edithjessiethompson.co.uk/
One hundred years later, using the real court transcripts, Crowded Room re-examine the sensational case of one of the last women to be executed in this country. The judge opens the proceedings: “You should not forget that you are in a court of justice trying a vulgar and common crime. You are not listening to a play from the stalls of a theatre.” How very apt then, that we ARE in fact listening to a play from the stalls of the theatre and although we cannot turn back the clock and give Edith Thompson the treatment she may have deserved back in 1922, we CAN re-examine as onlookers and let it teach us a lesson- one of justice, hope and change.
Verbatim theatre is a form of documentary theatre, making use of real people’s words and testimonies. Actors performing this style often speak of a sense of responsibility and loyalty to the real people that they are playing, and the importance of delivering an authentic performance. This is certainly felt throughout this production and during the post-show discussion. It is clear from the outset that a huge amount of research has been done in order to represent this story and its characters, authentically. Although of course, we are talking about people living in the 1920s, so access to video footage, social media, television interviews etc. don’t exist, which must’ve made this all the more challenging for Crowded Room.
Crowded Room are an award-winning theatre company specialising in true stories and they do this exquisitely. Working with women from HMP Styal, they have created a fantastic piece of theatre which emerges the audience in this trial and transports us back to a time when only one woman sat on the jury, when there was no such thing as DNA testing and when the only way of keeping up with the news was in a newspaper or on the wireless.
From the moment the play begins, we are invited to become the jury, to make judgements and decide for ourselves whether we would have sent Edith Thompson to the gallows. When the cast say ‘all rise’, they mean it! Would the verdict be different a hundred years later? The set is simple but effective- a chair for each actor and screens to display character names, locations, days, interviews and Edith reading some of her love letters aloud- a nod to the contemporary in order to provide clarity for the audience. Although the cast seem to be bringing the story into the modern day with the use of technology to drive the action, some modern music choices and up to date fashion, the language of the piece takes us right back to the 1920s, due to the majority of the script being taken directly from transcripts of the time. There feels no need to bring this piece into the modern day as many of its themes and topics are still relevant today.
The piece is structured as the trial would have been and even includes ‘recess’, rather than an interval, during which the house lights are brought up and the actors seemingly come out of character to take a drink or look at their mobile phone. This was a time to reflect as an audience. However, these were also moments to ‘keep-watch’ as the cast still had ‘something to say’ throughout these instances of pause. Ear defenders are donned, possibly signalling the need for calm within the courtroom or to block out the opinions of us, the jury. Or to symbolise the lack of real listening or communication throughout the real trial? During one recess, the actor playing Freddy sits casually and uses their mobile phone- as a twenty year old man would today. What would Freddy’s WhatsApp messages read if he had been able to send them a hundred years ago? All of these little details get the cogs whirring!
With only five in the cast, each has more than one role to play, and all do it wonderfully- though not with costume changes or entrances and exits, but by cleverly adapting their body language, tone of voice and/or accent. This is so brilliantly done that there isn’t room for doubt- we know who’s who throughout. This is also done with a touch of comedy, an important addition to this otherwise serious plot.
It is an interesting time for this tale to be re-told because, believe it or not, it was announced at the beginning of this year that Edith Thompson’s case is to be reviewed as a potential miscarriage of justice. It has been referred to the Criminal Cases Review Commission and a government spokesperson has said it would provide closure to Edith’s family.
No need to stress if you didn’t watch the TV series. Ballet Rambert’s Peaky Blinders is in a class of its own, unique both as a production and as a dance form. Although danced in the main in contemporary dance style with more than a touch of street dancing – razors, knives etc – choreographer and director Benoit Swan Pouffer uses classical dance moves too. Not only uses them but dares to improvise, building on to the traditional with innovative use of classical ballet moves – with a dancer even performing a plié in mid-air.
Beginning with a brilliantly depicted scene from the battlefields of World I, the ballet moves through the life of one Tommy Shelby down the years, showing through him the ways in which those who fought in this horrendous war were affected throughout their lives even in they survived – a living death, as it were. As it moves on through the post-war years, Tommy’s life segues into a violent world full of murders and gang warfare, with knives and razors flashed – the latter hidden in and the raisond’ètre for – the peaked caps that gave the gang its name. This historically accurate production is not for the faint-hearted, but is well worth taking a deep breath and immersing oneself in what it portrays through dance form.
Creator Steven Knight, who wrote the original script for TV and together with Pouffer, adapted it into dance form, uses a live band on stage throughout for gunfire, air raid sirens and a plethora of music and sounds which works well in tandem with ever-changing themes composed and orchestrated by Roman GianArthur. Natasha Chivers’ lighting aids and abets, of particular note being the scene with searchlight beams and in the second half where an opium-fuelled Tommy descends into a living hell. Benjamin Zephaniah’s voiceover is both necessary and succinct, while set designer Moi Tran’s clever sets lend an authentic and atmospheric touch throughout: a colourful carousel lends a light touch for one scene. Having the dancers on two levels gives additional scope but at this venue means that audiences in stall seats are unable to see the dancers’ legs! Ben Zephaniah’s voiceover is both necessary and well done but pre-recorded vocals – recordings of different tracks which, despite being relevant, are over-loud for much of the time.
The love story between Shelby and his long-time sweetheart disappears and resurfaces throughout lending a necessary lightness of touch, as does a great scene in the second half with dancers dressed in costumes by costume designer Richard Gellar reminiscent of photos of Marilyn Monroe in her early days (a laMoulin Rouge or Talk of the Town for those old enough to remember these iconic London night spots!)
Ballet Rambert is justifiably famed for the high standard of its dancers, and this production underlies this with memorable moves executed with skill. Mention must be made here, in addition to the expertise of the dancers – notably Naya Lovell, Simone Damberg Würtz and Caiti Carpenter -of Musa Motha who, despite losing a leg to cancer when he was just ten years old, does not let that factor deter him in any way, resulting in a performance that is a privilege to watch not only for its depiction of the role but its perfection of technique.
Runs until Saturday March 25th at Wales Millennium Centre Cardiff, then touring.
Theatre is very much a powerful tool to highlight topics of the time, to create political commentary and express the injustices and emotions of people. With the last 3 years adding to the feeling of the world getting seemingly worse, there’s something to be said of a production that makes these comments but encourages us to see the humility of it all.
Adam Scott-Rowley’s, YOU ARE GOING TO DIE, does just this. Featuring Scott-Rowley completely in the nude, he vulnerably cycles through different ages, different people, thoughts and attitudes to give a holistic view of our world, of growing older and of experiencing oneself in a climate slowly getting worse. He creates highs and lows of comedy vs reflection, of matter of fact hilarity vs deep emotion which is poignant and effective; a emotional and thought provoking rollercoaster.
The action is already started as we take our seats; Scott-Rowley sat on a lit up toilet, with music and lights that make you feel as if you are entering a Berlin rave club, there’s this feeling of voyeurism on him while the audience chatter and wait for the start. There is something amazingly powerful of watching as the audience slowly come to the realisation that a production has started without this being clear.
Scott-Rowley is able to contort his body and facial structure to create different characters and scenarios – you rarely find that you truly know who he is or what his natural form is as he so amazingly transforms. He creates characters we know or see in modern world, or frighteningly creates people we know we have been or will become. There’s a tongue and cheek to it at times, but it is subtly and easily transformed into serious commentary. Abstract, with little dialogue and heavily leaning of physical theatre, some makes you laugh and intends comedic effect, some is beautiful and a work of art in itself and some is grotesque and full of truth. There’s a fluidity and seemingly subtle transition to the different “scenes” (if you could call it that) and a return to different characters, adding to a sense of monotonous repetition of life but also hitting home humorous but entirely serious points of who we are in a world going up in smoke.
YOU ARE GOING TO DIE is a physical theatre masterpiece. It is entirely absorbing, entertaining, humorous but hitting really poignant spots in every audience member.
If you are not familiar with the style of Bouffon theatre, then you are severely missing out.
Myself having trained in this art and a huge fan of Red Bastard, was so pleased to see and be invited to a show using this type of theatre, so little seen or experienced in modern theatre, while being the right genre to grace our stages.
A brief outline of Bouffon; grotesque creatures are made with costume and physicality, to comment on taboos of the world. These clowns address these topics without barriers and put them almost uncomfortably into your face, leaving you not knowing whether to laugh, cry or be thought provoked.
OMELETTEMACHINE, loosely based on Shakespeare’s Hamlet, addressing issues around family trauma, of power and mental violence and to some degree, of capitalism. A clowned chicken meets egg is forcibly made to work in his father’s butchery, unable to leave and tortured to massacre fellow chickens. He is unable to leave, and if so, commits punishments of almost cannibalism with “rotten” egg eating, smashing of eggs and chopping of chicken meat.
This production is very powerful; Bouffon aims to make the audience uncomfortable and Giacomin does this in spades. He isn’t afraid of addressing the audience, bringing them into the folds of his torture. This is through direct interaction, through the use of raw meat and blood-like liquid, through the beginning projection of live chicks in a factory. Real blades are used, unceremoniously chopping at raw meat; raw chickens still in tact and grotesquely danced on stage or come through the audience on a electric toy car. It’s these elements of surprise that are comedic but make you uneasy. It entirely and fantastically achieves what it is meant to, really making you think. And if you’re vegetarian like myself, there’s a barrier of disgust but admiration for the boundaries that are being pushed to make comments on these topics. A sense of “working for the man” comes to mind when Giacomin uses repetition to advertise his father’s butchers, with monotonous and repeated tasks and conversations. There’s the family trauma but also a sense of working for something and someone you are against.
Giacomin has the style of Bouffon on instant look; plumped up with padding and contorted physicality, he is comedic and difficult to look at, moving his face into an almost unrecognisable clown. When we reach the end of the production, he lays himself bare, releasing the shackles of his costume and returning to his natural features and this is when you truly realise the lengths he has taken in his bodily and facial contortion to create the character. If we had not seen him undress on stage before us, you would almost think they were two different actors. He is childlike, to meet the idea of his father’s control yet somehow uncomfortably adult, with the mixture of the two creating a feeling uneasiness. He is full of emotions of anger, of fear, of borderline mental illness and it makes it subtly chaotic, your body itchy with uncomfortability but entirely thought provoked. This is a triumph of Bouffon.
OMELETTEMACHINE is brilliant – it is everything that Bouffon is meant to be and leaves you laughing, uncomfortable and yet with a profound thought on family relationships and the capitalist world.
I love when you go to a production and come away having seen perfection.
The Messiah Complex, by Bag of Beard, is the Utopian, almost post-apocalyptic-world story of Sethian, interned in a mental asylum for his faith and the actions that lead him towards this situation. We see flashbacks of what happened along with what led to these, analysed within the controlling and manipulative asylum, equally flawed and equally cult-like. The story makes it hard to side with anyone within the story, both deeply poisoned in their thinking, but also very similar in their approach to life. A world where it is illegal to have faith, believed to lead to crimes, war, disease but those who control this belief, themselves, have arguable opinions and actions themselves. Two cults against one another.
The Messiah Complex in its aesthetic and narrative very much made me think of The Royal Court Theatre and their productions – greeted with Sethian already in a trance, he is surrounded by a square of light with projection images running behind him – very abstract and visually appealing, creating an atmosphere instead of waiting for it. The narrative being easily believable yet also wide enough a concept to be almost futuristic.
I could not distinguish a “better” performer in the production. All very different characters, all were entirely formed, believable to the point of feeling intrusive; we could have cut the fourth wall away and be looking directly into the house, the cell, their world. Sethian is kind, he is clearly in love and at the same time, clearly influenced and mentally affected by this. His wife Sophia is likeable, but clearly powerful and influential, convincing Sethian with her looks, her love, her mind to believe in the religion, the cult and he will do anything to satisfy that. The nurse, also entirely influenced, if not also brainwashed by the government and information of the time, has a level of authority and vacancy of emotion, but at the same time is frustrated and wants to help – she is human despite her initial appearance.
All three interact with one another impeccably, their relationships clearly formalised well and this gives levels to the production, feeling the real emotion and connections. The Utopian but entirely possible story line is visualised easily before our eyes and gives you a trembling feeling on inevitability; the emotions shown especially by Sethian adding to this realism.
The Messiah Complex, while only at their first run of the show, is already perfection. It has the right levels of fiction to potential fact, easily supported by the clearly skilled and full embodiment of the actors of their characters and the story. It is heartbreaking but also quite frightening in its realism. This is a play not to miss and meant for a larger stage for sure!
I am sad that, with this likely the last Vault’s Festival, I haven’t had the chance to visit as much as previous years. But how intriguing, to come across two pieces of Queer Theatre, touching on similar themes.
Acid’s Reign is a drag show come informative theatre, highlighting in a cabaret yet theatre narrative, the impact of various pollutants on the World and how it is slowly being destroyed. When I say that there are similar themes, Queer Planet and Acid’s Reign both touch on nature and the element of same sex or a-sexual animals that is not taught in biology class. It was interesting that these were approached for different reasons, but also really great to see different genres of Theatre taking up the political and educational baton with their shows.
Acid’s Reign uses various Drag Queens and Kings to feature as representations of nature – Acid (Joshua Oakes-Rogers) themselves are the “bad guy” that faces support towards redemption, representing a younger character to highlight generational attitudes towards the environment. They are witty, funny, and time of corpse-ing or loss of lines is hilariously well managed, creating layers of comedy and enjoyment that was unintended. They want to build a series of clubs because the World is beyond repair and this is where Mother Nature, played by Son of Tutu (Everybody’s talking about Jamie, film) begins a Christmas Carol style story of different “ghosts” visiting and trying to change Acid’s mind. Son of Tutu holds the stage, certainly embodying the Mother image but also had incredible comedic effect, even in the background.
Scarlett Harlett (Ru Paul’s Drag Race UK) plays the insatiable A-shell, Queen of the Sea, with her wall-shakingly amazing singing voice and continuous innuendo, her character reminding me of a dirty old Hollywood star meets Patsy from Ab Fab. For me, she stood out the most. Maybe some as a Drag Race fan, but I also felt she really commanded the stage and was always on point, even if not at the centre of the story.
Jamie Fuxx brings some masculine energy as our Drag King, Land, bringing yet another incredible singing voice to the mix and some hilarious tongue n cheek dirtiness to the stage. They slot into the cast impeccably, adding to the cacophony of different voices and characters.
Finally, Air is represented by audio, apt in what it is represented. The characters are enveloped with this, as if air can move and embody different persons and helps to culminate the activity and story. Acid is redeemed, and along the way we have been given nuggets of educational facts, some known, some unknown, tinged with comedic effect but also clearly affecting Acid in their solemn response and over all change of heart. We equally come away entertained, but thought provoked.
Acid’s Reign has a cast of incredible talents, all with their own approach and techniques but all with incredible voices and typical comedy skills from Drag/Cabaret shows. But something was missing for me. Perhaps it was just that the show needed a clear format – is this a traditional Cabaret show, where there’s an element of improvisation and crowd inspiration. Is this a musical and therefore represented by the songs that are changed slightly for the message. Or is this a straight play, with the addition of song, trying to bring a message and sticking to a written script. There’s nothing to say that any of it needs to be put in a certain box and cannot be more than one of these things, but at times it felt like too much was trying to be achieved and so lost the spark and perfection of a fully formed production. This clear path may come as a result of many productions, of working on it over years, and we may just be at the beginning of its development.
Acid’s Reign is a brilliant show – it is funny, it is informative, it is entertaining and a feast for the eyes. However, likely still in its infant stage of production, there is so much potential for the show, with the ability to open an important theme to an ever increasing audience as Queer Theatre and Drag comes more mainstream.
What a fascinating film Y Sŵn is. No sooner has its writer, Roger Williams, struck gold with cult horror Y Gwleddthan his Midas touch turns to the marking of forty years of S4C with this: a striking production that is as offbeat and realist, telling the story of how the Welsh TV channel came into being. Featuring an all-star cast of Welsh natives who perfectly attune themselves to playing key public figures of the time, it successfully immerses itself in the optimism and rancour of Margaret Thatcher’s first-term as Prime Minister. Full of energy and a bursting palette of colour, it truly marks itself as a distinctly British yet uniquely Welsh film.
The aesthetic right from the get-go resembles that of Killing Eve. In big bold letters, we are introduced to CARDIFF. The year is 1979 and there is a rich seam of colour which paints a positive picture of urban Welsh life. Ceri Samuel (Lily Beau) works at the Welsh Office, taking us into a shiny Mad Men-style series of corridors and meeting rooms where we are also introduced to key players in the civil service and government. The clever contrast between the ebullient colour of the former and monochrome presentation of the latter quickly marks out the heroes and villains of the piece. It also represents the vitality and strength of a nation against a stuffy and outmoded political leadership. Other forms of pop art appear throughout to give the film a slightly off-kilter, comedic edge. This sets it apart from the more fictionalised social realism of films like Pride to become a self-referential melodrama that nevertheless manages to maintain a sense of seriousness in respect of the story it wishes to tell.
The fine balance between dramatic and comedic forms is supremely kept by the onscreen talent. Assisted by the magnificent make-up and wardrobe departments, each character stands at an acute junction between verisimilitude and caricature. Willie Whitelaw is perfectly realised in the bushy eyebrows pinned and preened on Mark Lewis-Jones’ face. Sian Reese-Williams ensures a finely-pouted, drably-accented portrait of a scruffy-haired Iron Lady. Rhodri Meilir could turn up his pristine English act no more as Welsh Secretary, Nicholas Edwards. They play the part of authority figures straight enough to make them believable whilst subtly exaggerating them to undermine the abuse of power which leads to their attempts to back down on a manifesto pledge to establish a Welsh language television channel. In contrast, Carys Eleri plays Ceri’s superior with an effervescent humour that makes her a sympathetic character. Eiry Thomas plays devoted wife Rhiannon with enough emotional heart that belies her stereotypical dress. And Rhodri Evan brings a warm smile and gentle demeanour to troubled protagonist Gwynfor Evans to ensure his battle against the political might of Downing Street and Whitehall is portrayed with sufficient weight so as not to become a trivial matter. This is an important story albeit told in a highly imaginative way.
Rhodri Evan (Gwynfor Evans) and Sian Reese-Williams (Margaret Thatcher)
Y Sŵn represents the very best of Welsh filmmaking, in both its content and production. The ending is a surprising yet interesting one, paying homage as well as subverting an oft-derided formula. Its effect is heart-warming, in such a way as to instil a sense of pride in Welsh identity, complete with self-deprecation and humour. It also speaks to the small budget with which it was made, creatively used and referenced in the 4:3 home-movie ratio. You wouldn’t know it though from its professional and glossy finish. Y Sŵn is a real labour of love which stands among the best in contemporary British cinema.
Y Sŵn is showing in selected cinemas throughout March 2023. Click here to find out more.
Whilst the Bristol Beacon might not be open as of yet, the London Symphony Orchestra is getting some time in the nearby Bath at their Forum. This Art Deco wonder was the perfect space for their event with singer/conductor Barbara Hannigan in a concert of Messiaen and Mahler.
In Messiaen ‘L’ascension’ we get glimpses of heaven, the brass woodwind and strings getting solos for the most part just for them. Early Messiaen is full of such promise. Stravinsky is there as an influence and you can hear the original voice soon to be blasted out, very French.
The agonising last movement remains a highlight, the strings on their own plain. My plus one said there was no reference points for him, thus proving how out their Messiaen really is, even in his early days. Dense chords and the soon to be vital birdsong features and his Catholic faith is superimposed into all of his canon. Truly impressive.
Mahler’s 4th Symphony might not be my favourite of his, yet the LSO offered a really stellar offering. I don’t quite know about Hannigan’s conducting, a singer by trade she at times appears stiff and unanimated. She appears to be doing a bang up job with the orchestra as the symphony was a triumph, the jingle bells, Austrian angst and saddened irony was everywhere here.
An hour in length, this meaty work sits between even larger Mahler symphonies and I feel this one sometimes gets over looked. Hannigan couldn’t offer us her USP for the night, where she both sings and conducts simultaneously, due to illness. Though a shame, the ‘child in heaven’ solo for the finale was taken by Greek wonder Aphrodite Patoulidou wrapping up with the touching, joyful thrill that mirrors Mahler’s own grief. I was rightfully won over by this Mahler.
With its contending forces of good and evil, Mozart’s sardonic fairy-tale The Magic Flute, has more than a hint of the pantomimic. To use the words of the vernacular, Daisy Evans new production for the Welsh national Opera, sung in English with Welsh sub-title, sure does that in spades. Opera afficionados used to the more traditional – as in WNO’s much loved version last staged in 2005 – need to take a breath and prepare.
Mozart’s ‘Flute,’ first performed in Vienna in 1781, is reset by Evans into today’s world, with more than a hint of Star Wars, laser beams, fluorescent multi coloured lights et al. Not always easy to follow if you neglected to read the excellent programme notes. The connecting link which runs throughout is Schikanender’s libretto telling the story of the quest of Tamino, a Prince who sets out to find and rescue Pamina, daughter of the Queen of the Night. Pamina has been kidnapped by the villainous Monostatos by order of Sarastro, head of a mystic cult. Encouraged by ladies of court, Tamino is helped by the magic flute and Papageno, the bird catcher who lives in a hut in the woods and whose idea of heaven is hearth and home with the girl of his dreams. The story, with its mix of wonderful music, soaring arias, lovers’ tiffs and misunderstandings, set against a background of birdsong and mysticism, strongly references the fight between good and evil, the power of womanhood, all being brought to the fore by Evans, who has added and subtracted spoken passages in a translation that allows at times for a contemporary use of words that does not always sit well.
And thereby lies the rub, for in her endeavour to give the fairy-tale that is The Magic Flute a modern twist, Evans goes overboard. Mozart’s light-hearted touch is lost at times amidst a welter of light beams, however skilfully used and puppetry, however effectively used. Under the direction of puppeteer Matthew Forbes flocks of birds flutter intermittently around Papageno’s head. Used throughout, this is a clever idea (although it might have been preferable to dress those manipulating the strings in black) but a tad over used – it is possible to have too much of a good thing.
Nevertheless, consisting as this opera does of some of the composer’s most memorable arias and lyrical duets, this production does still keeps much of the romance, comedy and mysticism of the original. Thanks being due in no small measure to the expertise of the orchestra of the Welsh National Opera under the baton of Freddie Brown and the admirable chorus. The latter, despite being attired in headgear similar to that of a beekeeper in the second half, is as always in fine fettle, although under used in this production. At Saturday night’s (March 11th) performance, British-born soprano April Koyejo-Audiger made her WNO debut with a pleasing soprano and good sense of timing opposite South African singer Thando Mjandana, whose melodic tenor stands him in good stead in the lyrical duets with Koyejo-Audiger. Neal Davies is a quirky Papageno who combines comedy with sympathy both for being put-upon and for his unwanted single existence.
Audiences familiar with this opera are known to wait with baited breath for the high-octave reach called for by the Queen of the Night. Lyric-dramatic coloratura Julia Sitkovetsky does not disappoint with a soaring performance in high-octave and extremely difficult solos which even the most accomplished of singers can struggle to reach. Carmarthenshire-born Alun Rhys-Jenkins, whose specialises in tenor character roles, plays the supposedly frightening Monostatos for laughs more than terror, with a touch of the game show host at times in the role of sidekick to a far from sinister Sarastro sung by a bewigged Jonathan Lemalu with more than a touch of the Georgian gentleman.
A minimal and modernistic set is the background to an innovative and clever production. Whether or not this is a welcome addition to the multiple performances world-wide of one of Mozart’s most popular operas remains to be seen.
Snap: Less is sometimes more!
Runs until March 17th in Cardiff, then touring.
Tags: Alun Rhys-Jenkins, April Koyejo-Audiger,Cardiff, Daisy Evans, Emanuel Schikaneder, Freddie Brown, Jonathan Lemalu, Julia Sitkovetsky, Loren Elstein, Matthew Forbes, Neal Davies, Thando Mjandana, The Magic Flute, Wales Millennium Centre, Welsh National Opera, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart,
Creating opportunities for a diverse range of people to experience and respond to sport, arts, culture and live events. / Lleisiau amrywiol o Gymru yn ymateb i'r celfyddydau a digwyddiadau byw
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