Barbican

Pelléas et Mélisande (Barbican/LSO)

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A delightful way to begin a new year. Debussy’s Pelléas et Mélisande, a semi-staged operatic performance at the Barbican with the London Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Sir Simon Rattle. It is marvellous to have him back in the UK, even if it is not in the wonderful acoustics of Birmingham’s Symphony Hall. The Barbican was rather full last night, with an interesting mix of opera fans and admirers of the actor David Tennant, who was performing in the RSC’s Richard II in the theatre.

This enjoyable performance was directed by Peter Sellars and starred Magdalena Kožená (aka Mrs Rattle) as Mélisande, Christian Gerhaher as Pelléas, old favourite Gerald Finley as Golaud (Mélisande’s husband and brother of Pelléas), Franz-Josef Selig as Arkël (grandfather of Golaud and Pelléas), Bernarda Fink as Geneviève (mother of Golaud and Pelléas), Joshua Bloom as the Doctor and the Shepherd, and a young man identified in the programme only as “Soloist of the Tölzer Knabenchor” as Yniold (Golaud’s son).

Pelléas et Mélisande is Debussy’s only opera and it is truly glorious, with some of his most stunning music enhancing Maeterlinck’s play. It is remarkably fluid, with conversation leading throughout and almost no occasions on which there is a pause for a “look at me” moment. For an opera, there is relatively little plot and much misleading conversation. But oh, what conversation! Act two, scene 1, in which first Mélisande’s hair and then her ring fall in the well, to her and Paellas’ consternation, was exquisite and produced beautiful singing and acting from both Kožená and Gerhaher.

The singing was of excellent quality throughout. Kožená’s creamy, rich soprano was particularly suited to Debussy’s music, and Gerhaher’s rounded, earthy baritone well matched to her. Finley (a long time favourite of mine from Glyndebourne) provided a suitably menacing, intense air as Golaud, and Selig a grounded, deep bass as Arkël. Fink’s rich alto and Bloom’s supportive bass were also of superlative quality. And I must particularly praise the young Tölzer Knabenchor soloist, whose treble was of exquisite purity, and whose dedication to pitch and to the quality of his sung French would have been laudable in one several times his age.

Rattle kept a firm grip on the orchestra, which had beautiful dynamic control and paid close attention to him. I am very much looking forward to   Rattle’s assuming the position of Music Director for the LSO in 2017. I am cautiously optimistic about the possibility of a new concert hall, as neither the Royal Festival Hall nor Barbican Hall is really of the standard that London needs. I think it will cost significantly more than presently anticipated, however. Is there any possibility that a sponsor such as Emirates might obtain naming rights for a cheeky £100m or so? That would ease the government’s burden considerably.

Semi-staging is always a challenge, particularly in a traditional concert hall setup. I enjoyed the use of the orchestra and the positioning of the singers in and around the strings. That said, there were some odd long light fixtures that reminded one of our party of a Berlin nightclub and me of Star Wars lightsabers. When one of the singers was said to draw his épée, I half expected him to take up a light fixture and swing it around.

The costumes were also lacking. Kožená’s simple black dress worked well enough, especially since her beautiful red hair was all the adornment she needed, but the men, who were in informal black shirts and black jeans, looked like they were in a rehearsal. Because there is little to draw the eye in a semi-staged performance, the costumes are of great importance and I do hope that they are enhanced for the next semi-staged opera presented by the LSO and the Barbican next year.

This was a delightful start to 2016 and, musically, could not be faulted. A very enjoyable evening and the first of many semi-staged operas presented by the LSO and the Barbican. I look forward to the others.

Hamlet, Revisited

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The media frenzy has died down and Cumberbatch and co have settled into the business of getting the thing done every night. I was delighted to have the opportunity to revisit the play so I could see how it had changed since the previews.

I must admit to being somewhat disappointed. The set was still as stunning as ever, but the changes made in response to the initial criticisms diminished the production significantly. First, the ‘to be or not to be speech’ was moved back to its proper place. This made sense structurally, but it meant that the prologue, with Hamlet sitting with his father’s record player, had very little meaning. They removed many of the instances of Nat King Cole’s Nature Boy and cut down the toy motif significantly. This had the effect of removing the emotional immaturity that I had rather enjoyed in the preview performance, and there were no overall themes to be found in its place. Ophelia’s characterisation was also changed, with her photography and piano-playing gone and a rather forced scene of passion with Hamlet inserted. Her exit, followed by Gertrude (which I had found touching) was also changed. Overall, it felt rather like the direction was being done by committee. There were aspects of the direction I had disliked in the preview, but at least I understood the themes. Here, there were no themes, but merely theatrical mush.

Some aspects of the production were changed for the better. Ciaran Hinds has grown into the role and is an excellent Claudius. They sorted Anastasia Hille’s microphone issues, but didn’t turn it up loudly enough. They restored some of Polonius’s speeches, which meant that we got to hear more of Jim Norton’s beautifully resonant speaking voice (and they’re awfully good speeches). There were cuts made, though, to Kobna Holdbrook-Smith’s excellent Laertes and a Rosenkrantz and Guildenstern that I had rather enjoyed.

Cumberbatch himself was just as good as ever. His Hamlet remains fiercely intelligent and athletic and the speeches beautifully voiced. He has settled into the role and I did enjoy his performance very much. However, the lighter moments seemed to have gone by the wayside, and there were only a couple of moments of laughter.

So I would say to directors: stick to your guns! If you have a vision, carry on with it. I do acknowledge that it’s difficult to do that when you’re working with a huge star and the most hyped theatrical production of the year, however. I also hope that this experience doesn’t put Cumberbatch off returning to the stage, as I enjoy his theatre work very much. An interesting experiment. And if it means that more people enjoy and are not put off by Shakespeare, then it will have been worthwhile.

Catch-up Post: Plays Part 2

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A View From the Bridge (Young Vic): A tour de force from Mark Strong. His film career means that he is sometimes overlooked as a stage actor, which is an enormous shame. His presence radiated through the audience like an electric shock and the set design was innovative and extremely effective.

The Audience (WE): Kristin Scott Thomas this time. Someone described this play as “critic-proof,” and that is accurate, as it is not a play so much as a celebration of longevity. KST was suitably imperious, but lacked the humanity that Helen Mirren brought to the role.

Bad Jews (St James): A side-splittingly funny exploration of family, faith and sheer pettiness. I hated and loved all the characters in just about equal measure. I laughed like a drain for an hour and a half and saw it again at the Arts. A tonic.

The Twits (Royal Court): Roald Dahl wrote the original story. All of the actors involved were very talented and, I’m sure, did their best. And yet it was unremittingly awful. Incredibly dull. The best bit was watching children react to David Walliams’s presence among them (he was in the audience).

The Hard Problem (NT): The celebrated return of Sir Tom Stoppard. A rising star in Olivia Vinall. I wondered how it could have been written by the same person who wrote Arcadia, as the subtlety with which he explored science and the human condition in that play was all gone. This exploration of a woman scientist’s faith and career was about as subtle as a brick and very simplistic (and, if one were being uncharitable, sexist). A big disappointment.

Golem (Young Vic): As a frequent theatre-goer, it is rare that a production surprises and delights. This exploration of urban life, capitalism and romance addressed these important subjects in a fascinating manner with a light touch. Beautiful projections made this very unusual production a treat for the eye and the mind.

Antigone (Barbican): I need Greek tragedy to be made palatable for me, as the NT’s Medea and the Almeida’s Greeks season have recently done. This was, I’m afraid, static and one-note (shrieking) throughout, despite the luminous presence of Juliette Binoche and direction by the celebrated Ivo Van Hove.

The Play that Goes Wrong (WE): A very silly play within a play, which was hilariously funny and delightfully performed. If you need a pick me up, go to this. I enjoyed its low budget charms enormously.

Blithe Spirit (WE): There’s not much to be said about this that hasn’t already been said. It’s important to note that Angela Landsbury was fantastic not for an 88-year old, but for a performer of any age. A sparkling, charming production.

The Ruling Class (WE): A very odd play indeed, and dated in many respects. Whilst the aristocracy remains with us and have a great deal of power, we can thank our lucky stars (and the Russians, Chinese and Arabs who are our present ruling class) that they do not have the same power they did in the 1960s. James McAvoy was wonderful as always and the star of the show, as one would expect when spending a significant amount of stage time believing oneself (or pretending) to be Jesus Christ. A curate’s egg.

Happy Days (Young Vic): I often struggle with Beckett, although Waiting for Godot can be a great pleasure with the right pair of actors. Juliet Stevenson shone in this exploration of a woman’s very English captivity, although I cannot in all honesty say I enjoyed it. Appreciated is more the right word.

Taken at Midnight (WE): The mother of a captured German dissident during WWII was a great part for Penelope Wilton and I absolutely understand why she took it. That said, and whilst it was very moving, I’m afraid we’ve seen it all before. Its power on stage was remarkable, however.

The Fever (Almeida, in a WE hotel): Tobias Menzies has rather flown under the radar as a stage actor, although his appearance in U.S. TV blockbusters Game of Thrones and Outlander means that his star appears to be rising. This monologue about a wealthy Westerner musing on the developing world was exquisitely performed in the intimacy of a hotel suite. Unfortunately, its internal inconsistencies and lack of intellectual rigour (wealth is not a zero sum game) meant that I spent the evening admiring the acting rather than being moved by the play.

The Three Lions (St James): A play that was very much meant for television, with three actors impersonating David Cameron, Prince William and David Beckham in their (ultimately doomed) efforts to secure the 2018 World Cup. It was quite funny, with the best jokes being aimed by “Cameron” at Boris Johnson. Enjoyable, but missable.

Ballyturk (NT): Sometimes you go to the theatre and watch a play (in this case an Enda Murphy play set in Ireland amongst possibly brilliant and possibly insane people throwing things at each other) and you are left with the conclusion that either you are an idiot in the presence of genius or what happened on stage was nonsensical. With this one, I lean toward the second conclusion, despite energetic acting by Cillian Murphy, Mikel Murfi and Stephen Rea.

Electra (Old Vic): Another one note Greek tragedy. Impeccable shrieking from Kristin Scott Thomas, but there were few nuances to the performance. I have enjoyed her acting in the past, but I feel that perhaps I have seen all of the notes on offer.

Skylight (WE): A very good play, superbly acted by Bill Nighy and Carey Mulligan as former lovers rehashing the past. I found it infuriating, however, as David Hare’s play makes many assumptions about women, the business world and marital fidelity, few of which in my experience are true.

Richard III (WE): I enjoyed Martin Freeman’s Richard III when I saw it, but it is with several months’ distance that I am able to fully appreciate its greatness. He exemplified the banality of evil and the despot lurking in many ordinary men. An unshowy and brilliant performance.

Great Britain (NT): How we waited for the outcome of the Rebekah Brooks trial, so that we would be able to see this play. It was done as befitting a tabloid, cheaply and cheerfully, and with brittle, paper-thin jokes designed for a quick laugh and tomorrow’s fish and chips. Billie Piper was perfect for the role, though, and performed it very well.

Hamlet, Barbican

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The most hyped play of the year. Tickets booked over a year ago for one of the hottest actors around subjecting himself to the ultimate test of an actor’s ability. There was an expectant hush as the hard plastic curtain opened, to reveal the man himself…and then a whisper from off stage: “It’s coming back up!” Which the curtain promptly did, closing up again and ensuring that our first glimpse of BC was a fleeting one. An apologetic stage manager came out to explain this first technical issue, and then Cumberbatch himself came out to profusely apologise for the second issue (a broken trap door), standing directly in front of my in-laws, who almost certainly looked the most calm (and least likely to mob him) of all the front row.

All this to say, it was the fourth performance, during the previews, and things happen. I write this review in full knowledge that the cast and crew must have been very stressed and I’m sure none of them thought they gave their best performance. That said, there is little I can say to fault any of the performances, so I think it is fair for me to review those elements of the production that would have been unaffected by the technical issues. I am not a journalist, after all.

It cannot have been easy, planning a production of such hype and magnitude. The set designer, Es Devlin, deserves special praise for producing a set of enormous dimensions and exquisite beauty. It looked like a palace, but a Scandinavian palace, with all of the elegance and restraint that implies. The colours looked like (but probably weren’t) Farrow and Ball and were very soothing. The modern trend of using greenery indoors (which I first recall seeing at William & Kate’s Westminster Abbey wedding) was used to gorgeous effect. The lighting had that cool Northern aspect that one sees in Scandinavia and in Northern Canada, which is difficult to replicate but unmistakeable, once seen. If there was an overall theme to the costume design it escaped me, as they seemed a bit all over the place, with Gertrude in Edwardian leg of mutton sleeves, Hamlet in (mostly) modern dress and others in military uniforms of the WWII era.

It has been much reported that the play begins with the “To be or not to be” speech. Before seeing it, I was skeptical of this approach, considering that it would be facile to begin with such a crucial point in Hamlet’s emotional tailspin. And it was facile, but in the best possible way. The speech continues at the banquet, where he, a veritable sulky teenager, sits in his own black hole of despair and moodily says extraordinarily beautiful words to the effect of, “I’ll like totally kill myself.” For this is truly a Hamlet for our times, when forty-something people wear hoodies and play video games. Cumberbatch’s Hamlet is extremely smart and extremely emotionally immature.

The production keeps returning to Nat King Cole singing “There was a boy/A very strange enchanted boy” and “The greatest gift you’ll ever learn/Is just to love, and be loved in return.” Hamlet is well acquainted with filial love, but romantic love is not a gift that this Hamlet (a man-child recognisable to all 30-something women) will ever learn. He tells us, most passionately, that he loved Ophelia, but other than a fond look as she plays the piano we are given no evidence of this fact. He says, petulantly, “But I loved her” as though she were a toy that he had on the shelf and wanted to keep for when he was ready to play with her. The toy motif is strong, with a very funny impersonation of a toy soldier exemplifying Cumberbatch’s mastery of physical comedy.

I have long respected Cumberbatch as a stage actor, having enjoyed his Frankenstein with Jonny Lee Miller and having been enormously moved by his performance in Rattigan’s After the Dance. He did not disappoint, with quicksilver speeches that sat trippingly on his tongue. Sometimes, the hype is for a good reason, and it was for a very good reason here. It is a fiercely intelligent, hyper articulate performance and I hope it is feted as it deserves.

I am still of two minds about the production and Lyndsey Turner’s cavalier shifting of the speeches. It worked, definitely it worked, I was on the edge of my seat for 3 hours 45 mins (including the delay). I particularly enjoyed the gravedigger scene, with the second gravedigger recast as an officious Council jobsworth. But sometimes I think that Hamlet is like Wagner in that sitting through the boring bits means that when you get to the “Ride of the Valkyries” or the “To be or not to be,” the payoff means more. Perhaps this is also in keeping with the production, as this generation is not known for its attention span.

The rest of the cast deserves enormous praise. I have never seen Rosenkrantz and Guildenstern cast better, and Matthew Steer and Rudi Dharmalingam played the clueless college buddies to the hilt. Leo Bill’s Horatio could have stepped out of any students’ union in the UK. Jim Norton’s Polonius was moving, although as a devotee of Father Ted, I half expected him to shout “Crilly” at every turn. Anastasia Hille was convincing as a passionate, beautiful, initially clueless Gertrude, although her miking was echoey and distracting. I enjoyed the device of making Sian Brooke’s Ophelia a photographer at the beginning, which gave her an agency that Ophelia often lacks. The mad scene left me cold until the very end, when her exit was moving and, in an odd way, hopeful. Ciaran Hinds was a mountebank as Claudius, but then, Claudius is a mountebank. And Kobna Holdbrook-Smith was a wonderful Laertes. You could see him visibly ageing on stage as he was told of Polonius’s death. A stellar cast. And a worthy addition to the endless discussion that is Hamlet.

The final word I will leave to my husband, who patiently accompanies me to the theatre and the opera (as I patiently accompany him to the cricket). When’s the movie coming out?