Theatre Royal Plymouth, April 2019

When a work makes a really strong impression there is always a danger that one’s memory may be at fault. Experiencing the WNO Donizetti Tudor Trilogy in 2013-14 I had been bowled over by Roberto Devereux but would it live up to my memory? It did – and given the unplanned change of cast – even more so. With the unfortunate indisposition of Barry Banks, Devereux was sung by Robyn Lyn Evans. It was revelatory. A young singer, with the virility and passion the part needs but also the high lyricism in the voice to carry off all the emotion and charm the character requires. It was one of the most exciting evenings I can recall in recent years of many, many performances.

Robert Lyn Evans

Not that the rest of the cast were in his shadow. Justina Gringyte’s young and often fragile Sara comes into her own towards the end when she accepts the reality of the situation, though she has little chance given the misogynistic aggression of Rhys Jenkins’ Nottingham – himself standing in at the last minute and making much of a nasty character.

At the heart of the work is Joyce El-Khoury’s Elisabetta. If she is not mad at the start she certainly is at the end, and Alessandro Talevi’s often surreal approach helps us to navigate the twists and turns of her increasingly delusional thinking. The parallels with Brexit – a leader who does not listen and puts their personal feelings before the needs of their country – were uncomfortably obvious, even when hugely enjoyable.

James Southall drove his forces with enormous enthusiasm and fresh, intensive playing. The Chorus – as ever – were splendid and obviously loving the spider.

Joyce El-Khoury’s Elisabetta

The strength of this evening rather put the other two into the shade though David Poutney’s new Un ballo in maschera was engaging and challenging in just the right amount as well as being very well sung. Poutney has a love not just of theatre but of the theatrical so it was no surprise that Riccardo emerged in the first scene from a coffin and spent some considerable time there. Added to this, the whole set was made up of tiny proscenium arches, banked up as walls which moved smoothly to convey different spaces. All the time, however, we were aware that characters were performing, both to seen and unseen audiences. The moveable seats on stage constantly reminded us that we are watching a performance, our minds are being controlled. There is no problem then at the end where Riccardo is not actually stabbed – and it is not a case that the wrong person is stabbed – for nobody is stabbed because that does not happen in theatre. The singer pretends to die and then receives a curtain call, so why pretend they were dead in the first place when we don’t want them to be? Poutney takes this to its logical conclusion and allows Riccardo to watch his own death and the sadness it brings, even though he is still very much alive.

Gwyn Hughes Jones is a likeable Riccardo with a fine top to the voice and a ready humour. He is well matched by Julie Martin’s androgynous Oscar – strongly sung and flamboyantly acted. Sara Fulgoni has an easier task than usual as Ulrica as she is obviously a favourite with the court unlike Mary Elizabeth Williams’ strongly characterised Amelia – the only person we really feel concerned about as she is the only one with any heart, a reality which is clearly evident in her passionate singing.

Roland Wood sang Renato for the first half but was indisposed for the second, miming on stage while Phillip Rhodes sang from the wings. This proved to be more than a simple cover and as with Robyn Lyn Evans above we may hopefully hear a lot more from both singers.

Gareth Jones drove his forces with aplomb and made the whole an unexpectedly happy event.

Dominic Cooke’s production of The Magic Flute is very familiar though it still has many strengths. It lends itself particularly to strong characterisation which it certainly got from Mark Stone’s Papageno. His diction is exemplary – the sort of style you expect in operetta but rarely get these days – as is his sense of humour. He was well matched by Anita Watson’s Pamina, their bei mannern being a highlight of the first half. Ben Johnson’s Tamino is fluently sung but lacks passion so that it was difficult to see quite what Pamina saw in him. Samantha Hay was a strong Queen of the Night (though wouldn’t it be wonderful just once to hear it like Florence Foster Jenkins?!) and Phillip Rhodes an impressive speaker.

The production does not water-down the strong misogynistic content of the text nor ameliorate Sarastro’s arrogance. It does however, as usual, side-step the problem of Monostatos no matter how well sung by Howard Kirk.

Damian Iorio’s conducting was fluid and persuasive even from Plymouth’s deep pit – splendid for Verdi but a bit too cave-like for Mozart.

Marlowe Theatre Canterbury and touring

This production has been around for 24 years since 1995 so – seeing it now for the first time – I’m a bit late to the lakeside, as it were. But good things keep and this show is very good indeed: spellbinding, in every sense.

Bourne and his colleagues have reworked the story so that we’re in a very twitchy modern royal family complete with mechanical, floor clicking corgi (a lovely touch) and plenty of angst. The prince, who is gay but under pressure not to be, (James Lovell, Liam Mower or Dominic North) visits a lakeside in despair and sees swans who thereafter permeate and dance through his sometimes troubled, sometimes joyful dreams.

All the swans are men – muscular and very cygnine. They behave and move like animals and it’s deeply compelling to watch and listen to as they their bare feet slap rhythmically on the ground as if webbed and their unison hisses and growls punctuate the music with percussive accuracy. They are attractive but also wild, sinister and menacing with the lead swan (Will Bozier or Max Westwell) with whom the prince falls in love packing oodles of dark mystery. The Dance of the Little Swans is a playful delight with much infantile jostling and silliness.  And the split level ending – complete with that show stopper key change – presents the dichotomy perfectly.

The choreography, which is splendidly original, is the real star of this show. Every movement matches the music, from some amusing teeth cleaning and deodorant application at the beginning to a strange, passionate leap in which the prince more than once curls himself entirely round the hips of swan who holds and spins him foetus-like in defiance of gravity. This production is about as far from the world of tutus and en pointe as it could be with steps and ideas borrowed from many other dance genres including street and hip-hop seamlessly grafted into traditional ballet. Even the costumes are part of the choreography as the black and white elements move against each other, for example, in the livery of the servants at the beginning.

Matthew Bourne’s New Adventures company uses pre-recorded music and although I love to see an orchestra it works well here. The Swan Lake Orchestra recorded the score at Air Studios in 2004 with Brett Morris conducting and I like the way he, and the sound engineers, bring out all Tchaikovsky’s magnificent orchestral detail and colour which underpins every movement on stage, however tiny.

It is, in short, a masterpiece. I’m so glad it’s touring yet again giving more people, like me, the opportunity to see it for the first time and old hands the chance to revisit it in admiration.

Susan Elkin

Mote Hall, Maidstone, Saturday 23 March 2019

For the penultimate concert of the season Brian Wright brought us a headily romantic programme with some interesting parallels. He was right to point out that Dvorak’s Symphonic Variations are rarely performed which is strange given their immediacy and lyricism. Perhaps it is the structure of the work, which at times seems to meander through its moods and textures, enjoying the moment rather than wanting to get to the end. Yet the end itself justifies the approach. Just as we think we are in for a classical fugal climax Dvorak throws this over for an exuberant polka and an almost hedonistic conclusion. Throughout, detail impressed and the many changes of texture were well found.

Benjamin Baker made a welcome return as soloist in Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto. His approach drew interesting parallels with the earlier Dvorak for the first two movements focused on quiet introspection rather than the more showy technical details –  not that there was anything wrong with the brilliant technique he brings to the work – but that he explored the inner life of the score rather than its surface details. Only in the final movement did he allow himself to relax into the joyous outburst of the folk-dance rhythms – a move which many of the original listeners found vulgar and inappropriate. Today, thankfully, we can enjoy ourselves without feeling guilty.

After the interval we heard Brahms’ Second Symphony.  The opening movement unfolded with a mellow warmth, unhurried but never too slow. Dynamic control impressed, allowing individual voices to shine through, and there was particularly fine playing from the cellos. The Adagio had an unexpected heroism in its attack which led into bright wind playing for the Allegretto.

The final movement was again unhurried even if swiftly moving, and the brass came into their own with a magnificent, blazing fanfare at the climax.

The final concert of this season brings us Borodin, Schumann and Rachmaninov on 18 May and the exciting programme details for the 2019-20 season are also now available. www.mso.org.uk

Royal Albert Hall, Monday 18 March 2019

The logistics of getting 1,600 primary school students to the Royal Albert Hall, organising them into vast choirs, which then had to move place completely for the second half, was worthy of the Edinburgh Tattoo in its own right. That they also managed to present an immensely moving and pertinent multi-media work was entirely unexpected.

This was the culmination of work across 58 primary school organised by the Buckinghamshire Music Trust. The first half was fairly conventional. Eight songs for massed choir, including a significant amount of movement, clapping and extraneous (and quite deliberate) noise, formed a well-structured sequence under the guidance of Fay Hayhurst. The songs grew in impact with an exhilarating version of Sednato E Zore Dos with is overtones of Carmina Burana and the sentimental but affective I am the Gentle Light.

Dare to Dream was on a totally different level. It came about as a partnership project between Buckinghamshire Music Trust, Garsington Opera and Rosetta Life, bringing all of their skills and professionalism to create as broad a base for creativity as possible. It also enabled an art exhibition to be mounted on the day of paintings by Syrian children who had been involved in the project.

Over many months Buckinghamshire schools have been linked to schools in Bangladesh, Syria and Uganda, often via skype so that they were closely interactive. Out of this grew a series of stories which drew together the experiences of young people across the world and their dreams for the future. While their circumstances are very different, their hopes, their dreams prove to be remarkably similar. The work was crafted and composed by Hannah Conway, who also introduced and conducted it.

There were many wonderful moments in the musical score, but the presentation used the large screen to link us to the three other countries and fluid movement on stage, plus a continuing change of musical impact was entirely engaging.

The song of the fish – where all the children, regardless of their country, had made paper fish which swam towards each other – was both moving and joyous, and led into the final section of hope. Sometimes we falter/ Sometimes we fall/ Then we get up and stand/ Stronger than before they all sing, and at that point it really was all, for the massed singers from the first half joined with them and all 1,600 children were singing together with the children from across the world.

The message was clear, obvious and entirely apt. Yes of course it was political, but as we have seen from the children’s marches against climate change, it seems at the moment that in many ways our children are more focused on solving the problems than many adults are.

London Coliseum, Thursday 14 March 2019

There is nothing routine about this third revival of Simon McBurney’s approach to The Magic Flute. Not only does the production work as smoothly as ever, no small thing in itself given the complexity of the stage movement and video design, but the cast is fresh and appealing.

One of the benefits of a large cast is that it can bring on younger singers and ENO makes this into a real strength.

Tenor Rupert Charlesworth is a charming Tamino. He has a gaucheness in his manner which speaks of his youth and lack of experience, but also his genuine willingness to learn. His voice copes admirably with the long lines while his diction impresses. Lucy Crowe’s Pamina may be more familiar but is none the less making a welcome return to a part which she inhabits both vocally and physically.

Julia Bauer made her house debut as the Queen of the Night but it is a role she has sung frequently before as was obvious from the confidence with which she threw off Mozart’s coloratura. Brindley Sherratt’s Sarastro is new to this production though he has sung the role in an earlier version. He brings weight and authority to the part but also a genuine warmth and, at times, humour.

Thomas Oliemans returns as Papageno and is entirely at ease within the occasional eccentricities of the production, to say nothing of the obligatory set of steps he carries around.

The many silent actors are always aptly used, particularly the magnificent birds, and move alongside the chorus with commendable ease.

The pit is once again raised, which I think improves the acoustic, as well as allowing easy movement between the orchestra and the stage. Conductor Ben Gernon, making his house debut, lifted the score with commendable ease and fluency. He is certainly one to watch.

Sitting alongside the new Merry Widow the season at present seems to be running very well.

Hazlitt Theatre Maidstone and touring

Musically, for me, the success (or not) of any production of The Pirates of Penzance hangs on “Hail Poetry”. It’s a wonderful moment when everything stops, the cast becomes a choir and Sullivan indulges himself in a splendid four line anthem (complete with exasperatedly daft Gilbertian words – you can almost hear WSG’s irritation) in homage to Mendelssohn. And in the hands of Merry Opera Company under their MD Gabriel Chernick it rings out magnificently – every member of the cast of 14 singing with warm commitment. I could have done without the distracting stage business, though. It takes less than a minute and I think there’s a strong argument for letting the audience listen to it properly in all its loveliness.

Merry Opera is a Kent-based bijoux company which tours scaled down versions of operas and semi-dramatised, immersive versions of works such as Messiah and Verdi’s Requiem. It works with fine young singers and almost always delivers the goods. And The Pirates of Penzance, their first foray into Gilbert and Sullivan, is no exception. Every single person on stage is a talented singer.

It’s the quality of the music which really makes this production work. Gabriel Chernick, on keyboard, has arranged the score very imaginatively for a trio with Eloise Macdonald on violin and Georgina van Hien playing wind and brass – sitting downstage right where they almost become part of the action. I really love the way he has woven in continuos and sympathetic counter melodies. I’m sure Sir Arthur would have approved. And it supports the singing immaculately.

Mimi Doulton, as Mabel for instance is a fine coloratura soprano hitting every one of those absurdly high notes with sparky panache as she smiles through the music at her Frederic, an excellent tenor, although I wish he hadn’t been directed to use that  gratingly strangled heightened RP voice in the dialogue. It isn’t funny.  Samuel Pantcheff sings the Pirate King (bass) with lots of arresting richness, Phil Wilcox is a skilled and very nimble Major General – the presto encore in his famous number is good fun – and Matthew Quirk is a delightful, rubber kneed, gor-blimey Sergeant of Police.

On the music front then, this is a good production. Dramatically, however, I found it tiresomely fussy. Of course G&S cries out to be camped up and some of it is so absurd that only witty over acting makes it work but director John Ramster over-eggs it here.  There is no need for the Pirates to keep making stereotypical “piratical” noises like something out of a strip cartoon, for example. And, for me, the “duty” joke (whenever the word is mentioned, attention is drawn to it – I’ll spare you the spoilers) wears thin after half an hour or so. It all gives the impression of trying just a bit too hard. The material is very strong and there’s a case for allowing it to work its magic without quite so much embellishment.

Susan Elkin