Jonas Kaufmann

The Great Catch-Up Post of 2017

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The list of plays I have seen but not blogged about has been growing. And growing. And growing. And now, I am going to draw a line under it. Here is an update with capsule reviews from the past umpteen months, with apologies and definite plans to do better going forward. Probably.

  • Bug (Soho) – James Norton and Kate Fleetwood were mesmerising in this production of Tracy Letts’s play, where Fleetwood heartbreakingly comes to believe in Norton’s delusions. A very uncomfortable theatre in just about every respect, however.
  • Romeo and Juliet (WE) – Lily James was beautiful, flighty and young, as Juliet, and I was thoroughly convinced that she was in love with Richard Madden’s articulate and passionate Romeo. However, I didn’t necessarily believe the reverse, as the chemistry simply wasn’t there on his side. The production was delightful, however, filled with Italian sunshine and gorgeous costumes.
  • My Mother Said I Never Should (St James’s) – Having never previously seen Maureen Lipman on stage, I was very much looking forward to her performance. I was not disappointed. This exploration of the lives of three generations of Northern working class women was beautifully acted and well staged.
  • Threepenny Opera (NT) – Any production involving Rory Kinnear can’t be all bad. But this was decidedly odd, with his intelligent thug a foil for Rosalie Craig’s cunning good girl. Perhaps it’s Brecht’s fault, but this was a puzzling evening.
  • The Deep Blue Sea (NT) – Helen McCrory’s amazing performance in this Rattigan revival cannot be praised enough. Her transparent, intelligent face reflected complete understanding of her situation, longing, infatuation, and utter despair. Strangely uplifting.
  • Breakfast at Tiffany’s (WE) – Dire. Pixie Lott can sing a little, but can’t act for toffee. The worst accents I have ever heard on a London stage. Didn’t return after the interval.
  • The Spoils (WE) – Jesse Eisenberg’s play was, as the kids say, aight. It struck me as being of a very millennial sensibility, with immature young men and the sighing young women who take care of them. Fairly well acted, with particular praise for Katie Brayben, whose New Jersey accent was subtle and excellent.
  • Harry Potter and the Cursed Child (WE) – Much more effective on the stage than on the page. Excellent acting (Noma Dumezweni, Jamie Parker and Paul Thornley all did a great job as the core trio, as did Sam Clemmett as Albus and Anthony Boyle as Scorpius) and some of the simplest and yet most effective stagecraft I have ever seen made these plays an absolute joy to behold.
  • Richard III (Almeida) – I have been enjoying Ralph Fiennes’ frequent appearances on the London stage of late, but this was absolutely the most effective. I saw echoes of his Amon Goeth and his Lord Voldemort in one of the finest Richard IIIs I have ever seen.
  • Aladdin (WE) – Quite the slickest and Disneyest production I have ever seen in the West End. Still trying to figure out how they managed the flying carpet.
  • Groundhog Day (Old Vic) – I enjoyed this thoroughly and Andy Karl did an excellent job of making me forget about Bill Murray (the only exception being the “I am a God” line, but he’s not superhuman). A delightful adaptation.
  • Guys and Dolls WE) – It was the same production as previously reviewed, but minus Jamie Parker and with the addition of Rebel Wilson as Miss Adelaide. She did a lovely job, charming and with unexpected vulnerability.
  • Our Ladies of Perpetual Succour (NT) – I’m not sure exactly why it’s shocking that teenage girls like to drink, smoke and have sex, but they did so loudly, enthusiastically and Scottishly in this energetic production.
  • The Libertine (WE) – I am still not sure why they revived this play. Dominic Cooper was somewhat one note, and the play itself was dull. I was bored stiff.
  • King Lear (Old Vic) – Glenda Jackson made an absolutely stonking return to the stage. She was in clear, stunning voice and brought pathos I had never seen before. A triumph.
  • Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 (B’way) – It turns out that when you take the “war” out of War and Peace, what you’re left with is really rather trite. Josh Groban and Denée Benton were terrific, however.
  • School of Rock (WE) – A light as air musical providing a delightful evening of escapism. The children were absolutely terrific.
  • Nice Fish (WE) – Mark Rylance is incapable of giving a bad performance, but this was a trifle. An enjoyable, disposable evening.
  • Come From Away (Toronto) – I adored it from start to finish. A fabulous ensemble cast, tight production and a story (stranded passengers taken in by a small town in Newfoundland after 9/11) to make you believe in humanity again. Needed now more than ever.
  • Rent (WE) – It has held up well generally, but I felt so OLD. One for the young people, I think.
  • Dreamgirls (WE) – A slick, enjoyable production. Amber Riley sang beautifully.
  • Art (Old Vic) – I certainly didn’t think the play was a masterpiece (it hasn’t aged all that well) but Rufus Sewell, Paul Ritter and Tim Key were fantastic and had amazing chemistry.
  • The Tempest (RSC Stratford) – Simon Russell Beale was his usual marvellous self. The production was innovative in the best way, and the projections were stunning.
  • Amadeus (NT) – An intense evening, somewhat over-acted. As ever, the music was the best part.
  • Hedda Gabler (NT) – Ruth Wilson was head and shoulders above the rest of the cast. I’m not fond of modern Heddas (I want to say “get a job”) but she was excellent.
  • Sex with Strangers (Hampstead) – The play was middling, but Theo James was really rather good (and very handsome). Emilia Fox was inexplicably bad, with a very poor American accent.
  • Much Ado About Nothing (RSC London) – Charming WWI-era production, with top-notch acting and gorgeous sets.
  • Jonas Kaufmann (Barbican) – Not in absolutely top voice, but his technique and feeling made up for it.
  • Twelfth Night (NT) – Gloriously sharp gender-fluid production. Tamsin Greig was a joy to watch.

Jonas Kaufmann, Royal Festival Hall

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Jonas Kaufmann, the McDreamy of the opera world. I have heard recordings of his dark, intense tenor and seen the brooding photos that are inescapable for anyone who loves opera. But I had never heard him in person before tonight. I must admit to having wondered whether anyone could live up to the hype. I needn’t have worried; his singing was exquisite.

The evening was devoted solely to Puccini, and Kaufmann was partnered by the London Philharmonic Orchestra. The evening began a trifle inauspiciously with a Prelude symphonic for which the rhythm was somewhat shaky, and “Ecco la casa,” from Le Villi, in which Kaufmann’s burnished tenor seemed slightly strained (although the top B flat was stunning). But everything from then on was utter pleasure (with the mild exception of the LPO’s Intermezzo from Suor Angelica, which was a bit tentative).

The first half contained selections from Le Villi (as mentioned), Edgar, and Manon Lescaut. I was only familiar with “Donna non vidi am” and “Guardate, pazzo son” from the latter opera, and perhaps it is for that reason that I thought they were by far the finest moments in that half. It is much easier to sing well loudly than to sing well quietly, and I was utterly gobsmacked by Kaufmann’s mastery of dynamic control and constant, absolute attachment to pitch. The LPO, and conductor Jochen Rieder, also deserve praise for their attention to detail and similar dynamic control.

The second half began with selections from Tosca, and I have never heard a better “E lucevan le stelle.” Ordinarily, artists in recital make lip service to acting, and focus only on the voice. Not Kaufmann – if I closed my eyes, I would have believed myself at the beginning of the final act of Tosca. It was utterly beautiful, perfectly despairing, and as subtle as that aria could possibly have been. It did not leave me in the state of bliss that it ought to have done, however, as I was filled with rage at the coughing hordes who hacked up lungs during what should have been only music. I was not alone in my anger, however, and the collective feeling of the healthy majority of the audience seemed to have pierced the shell of selfishness of the afflicted, resulting in (relatively) peaceful silence for the rest of the half.

Intermezzi from Madama Butterfly and Suor Angelica represented the LPO’s primary contributions to the second half, and Kaufmann’s “Una parola sola…Or son sei mesi” produced more glorious, bang on-pitch B flats. But the unquestioned highlight of this half was Kaufmann’s Nessun Dorma. There are a very few instances of great art that retain their power no matter how cliched they have become. The Ride of the Valkyries, Hamlet’s To Be or Not To Be speech, etc. Nessun Dorma is amongst those, and listening to Kaufmann’s vocal intelligence and that spinning, espresso tone, I truly believed that Calaf would win. It was phenomenal.

The encores included more selections from Tosca and Fanciulla, and went beyond Puccini to include selections like Refice’s Ombra di nube. It was a stupendous, stonking evening. And after the first admiration of the dinner jacket, I didn’t think once about his looks. The voice was all.