Don Giovanni (Royal Opera 2nd Cast)

"Don Giovanni" - The Pantomime! That's how a great deal of this performance felt. Unusually for the second cast of a revival, most of the characterisation from the first cast, which I also saw (twice), seems to have been thrown out the window and replaced with some of the most excessive overacting I've ever come across. In places this sort of works, but any emotional content was sapped right out of the evening.

Alex Esposito's Leporello was the worst offender, born from gurning and wild arm movements. This had a rough and tumble quality to it which initially was quite appealing but grew tiresome and the scene which usually works so well, when Leporello takes the mick by imitating Giovanni, fell truly flat. This rough approach was rather too evident in his singing as well. The raucous moments worked well but the more lyrical passages especially in "Madamina" didn't come across, with his coarse tones unappealing. The Giovanni of Mariusz Kwiecien was much younger and virile than Keenlyside (although lacking the incredible physicality) and on the whole his voice stood up to the challenges of the piece. He didn't always have the volume but he managed to make a strong impression none the less. A late replacement was Levente Molnar as Masetto and he too made an impression through extravagant body movements rather than his voice. Not a bad singer as such but that wasn't the lasting impression I took from his performance. Ian Bostridge offered up his usual fair of incredible singing, a "Dalla sua Pace" to die for, paired with stiff movements and odd facial ticks. In the context of the rubbish acting around him it didn't matter much and what comes out of his mouth invariably overcomes his acting issues anyway. Eric Halfvarson, who was in the first cast and currently piping out Fanciulla, is somehow still bringing tremendous weight to the Commendatore, despite the frivolities around him he made the final scene chilling.

The women were a pretty mixed bag as well. Patrizia Ciofi has a lovely if rather thin voice for most of the role's range but lacked assurance for the soaring high notes, barely pushing some out at all. Emma Bell made the right noises albeit without much flair and her acting was reigned back from much of the farce going on around her which was excellent. Her breath control was somewhat lackadaisical however, she breathed too often and did it so sharply I could hear every inhale. Rebecca Evans stole the show as an absolutely beautiful Zerlina. She floated the notes out with such care and refinement, imparting the kind of emotion in her music that was sorely lacking from most of the others.

My views on the production I've largely spelt out in my earlier reviews but the change of tack in characterisation was pretty strange. As if trying to escape from the fairly long shadow of the first cast almost everyone added a dozen ticks and artificial actions to their characters. Leporello threw stuff (and himself) around much more, Giovanni had a knack for raising his eyebrows and Masetto kicked beds and generally jumped around. It didn't garner many more laughs (in places many fewer) and undercut a lot of the emotion. The firey conclusion still hit home, it is a very impressive bit of staging (although the fire extinguisher sounds during "Questo è il fin" suggested something went a little awry) plus Bostridge and Evans generated some buzz during their arias but it was otherwise a fairly disappointing evening. The singing wasn't bad and Kwiecien made a more than decent stab at Giovanni but the tendency towards grandiose overacting meant the piece never really went beyond tomfoolery, enjoyable but not much more. I was half expecting someone to shout "he's behind you" when the Commendatore rose from the dinner table, and that can't be a good thing.

Triple Bill (Morphoses, Programme 2 2008)

Morphoses is something of a pipe dream. A dream that I'd love to see succeed but currently the company exists essentially by pooling some of the best talent from New York and London once a year for an international tour. It's not really a company then, the one appearing this year is substantially different from last year's (the debut year for them which I also saw). What is significant about Morphoses is the man behind it. Christopher Wheeldon. Potentially Ballet's next Messiah (Ballet has a Messiah Complex), probably not, but a damn fine choreographer by any standards. The second programme of this tour (sadly I didn't see the first) is the first they've ever put together entirely from pieces choreographed for Morphoses. Two Wheeldon pieces, one a premiere, and a premiere by a young Canadian choreographer, Emily Molnar. Whilst the Wheeldon work soared, the Molnar didn't leave the ground.

The Molnar came up first and I'll be honest, "Six Fold Illuminate" is an example of the worst kind of contemporary choreography. Take an eminently danceable but repetitive minimalist piece (Glass or Reich usually), attach to it repetitive and deeply unimaginative choreography, then acquire a world class collection of artists to perform it in grey costumes, on a grey background with very low lighting. Oh, and a stupidly pretentious title is recommended to add a layer a mystery in an attempt to disguise the rubbishness of the entire venture. Several of the dancers couldn't even bring themselves to applaud Molnar when she took a curtain call. At twenty-five minutes it wasn't short either. That's twenty-five extra minutes of sleep several people garnered in my vicinity whilst too much caffeine refused to allow me the same. I actually can't really think of any positives. All the dancing was decent I suppose but these are seriously impressive dancers and they always look good, regardless of what rubbish is thrown at them (although you could hardly see them so even the quality of the dancing is up for debate). Long, incoherent and boring. The company are supposed to be dancing this in New York, if I were them I'd cut my losses and just perform another Wheeldon piece instead.

What followed was thankfully in an altogether different league. "Commedia" may not be a masterpiece but it's still hugely impressive and at the very least demonstrates that there is more to contemporary ballet than just covorting miserably in darkness. The designs and costumes have a joyous feeling to them and the piece nicely balanced a range of emotion, with vibrant sections juxtaposed with more subdued ones. Amusing and poignant by turn without feeling crammed or artificial. The beautiful tableaux to close the piece just felt right, as if the work had organically reached its conclusion. The dancing was impeccable although a few stood out. Beatriz Stix-Brunell and Leanne Benjamin performed an absolutely lovely duet. Shockingly, Stix-Brunell is fifteen years old meaning she born after Benjamin became a principal at the Royal Ballet. A star for the future. Benjamin then went on to dance a pas de deux with Edward Watson that was simply the highlight of the evening. Big disappointment were the Royal Ballet Sinfonia under Barry Wordsworth, far too many bum notes and a general lack of cohesion, made this reading of Pulcinella mediocre at best. Overall a very decent new work, not ground breaking perhaps but vibrant and engaging.

The final work was "Fools' Paradise" which was new last year and remains one of my favourite Wheeldon pieces. The score by Joby Talbot is enchantingly beautiful and the designs with the falling leafs and scant costumes beautifully in tune with the dancing. Wheeldon has an eye for a good image slowly building up static poses until finally they all come together at the end in what has to be one of the most life affirming images you'll ever see (not sure why, it just made me feel great to be alive). The cast here was largely unchanged from the premiere last year with the cream of the New York City Ballet on show. Unsurprisingly, Wendy Whelan and Maria Kowroski are flawlessly beautiful through every step and Craig Hall is a worthy partner to any ballerina, lifting with such care. Standout of the night overall though was Edwaard Liang who performed in all three pieces and acquitted himself supremely throughout.

Last year I was as of yet unconvinced by Wheeldon's messiah status but on these grounds he's certainly going in the right direction. The new Molnar needs ditching fast as it's good for nothing but the scrap heap. "Commedia" on the other hand, I'd love to see again. A mixed evening then but one which showed Wheeldon at his best as a choreographer, if not as an artistic director.

Varjak Paw

"Varjak Paw" might well be the first time I've ever ventured to the Royal Opera House and felt old. A huge portion of the audience were young children who all seemed to have read the books (which I've never heard of before). Whatsmore, they all sat incredibly still and quiet before unleashing at the interval. I fear I fidgeted more than the younger members of the audience. The best "children's theatre" can be enjoyed equally by adults (the National Theatre have had a fine string of these) but this isn't one of those shows.

The plot which is recounted in the programme is very complicated, hardly a problem if you've read the books but pretty tough on the rest of us. There are too many characters who do far too many things in far too short a time. Without the synopsis I would have got nowhere and with it I didn't manage much better. The pair behind the libretto and music, Kit Hesketh-Harvey and Julian Philips, seem to have a fear of spoken dialogue. This only serves to make following the plot harder since they don't stick to simple vocal lines with what should have been spoken spanning octaves. The music on the whole is more complex than it needs to be and as piece designed for children it's almost devoid of decent tunes. My biggest complaint was at virtually no point did I feel that there was any point in this being an opera. The music prevents us following the narrative and adds little depth or emotion.

What saves the evening is the energy of the cast. Akiya Henry bounds around the stage like she has eaten way too much sugar and has charm coming out of her ears. Her singing is more musical theatre than opera which was a good decision as it mean her words come across better than most. Tim Mead (last seen being slaughtered on the main stage) has some utter rubbish to spout and the choice of counter-tenor didn't seem overly sensible for the role but he has a very fine voice and it sounded fantastic in the small Linbury space (and he's hysterical in drag). George Ikediashi has a massive presence and great comic timing. As a group they provide the interest that is sorely lacking in the music.

The staging is quirkily effective and the cast are an appealing bunch but there's little here to warrant all this effort. Ultimately it doesn't matter what old fogies like me think though, most of the children seemed to be having a great time. I supect knowing the plot was a major boon as it was nigh on impenetrable otherwise. One for young children then, but parents might not enjoy this nearly as much as their offspring.

La fanciulla del West

Having closed the season with the spectacular "La Bohème", this one has kicked off (after the excitable Giovanni of course) with a similarly excessive, naturalistic production from decades ago. "La fanciulla del West" doesn't appeal to me nearly as much as Bohème, but I'm a sucker for Puccini and cast like this, it really couldn't be much more fun.

José Cura was born for this role. Quite apart from looking exactly right, he inhabits the character to an extent I've rarely seen from an Opera singer. Plus he's got charisma in spades and along with all this he's no slouch in the vocal department. He doesn't handle the more gentle, upper-register music all that well (he managed to fake them quite well though), but when it comes to massive vocal moments few can compare. His "Ch'ella mì creda libero" is every bit the highlight it should be. Remarkably then he doesn't steal the show. Eva-Maria Westbroek does that, apparently without really trying. She fires out her music like it all sits right in the middle of her tessitura, from start to finish she sounded fantastic. She can also act (two wonderful actors in an operatic production, this has to be a first) and whilst the production lands her with some slightly melodramatic actions, the end of Act II being particularly overblown with cards going everywhere, she creates a real, breathing character who you really empathise with. I heard this twice to catch both Jack Rances and the pair sat at opposite ends of how to perform. It was Claudio Sgura at my first trip and he has the vocals, although with a lack of heft in places, but very little presence. He just wasn't terribly interesting when compared to Cura. The second was Silvano Carroli who sang the role when this production opened in 1977 (some time ago by any standards, especially mine). His voice is clearly not what it once was, sounding like he was actually drinking real whisky on stage, but he gave the kind of performance that novices can only dream of. You could forgive him almost anything simply for the sheer watchability of his every action. The thought of him coming close to marrying Westbroek's Minnie made me feel slightly ill, he could be her grandfather, but somehow he clicked right into place. Given the choice between the two singers, I'd take Carroli over Sgura any day. Impact is far more important than vocal accuracy. The smaller roles are all ably filled. It's astonishing that Eric Halfvarson is managing to sing this and the Commendatore in Giovanni at the same time and more astonishing still that he is doing both very, very well. Bonaventura Bottone's limp could do with a bit of work but his singing is spotless. Excellent cameo from Vuyani Mlinde (a Jette Young Artist) who is definately one to watch for the future. The male members of the Covent Garden chorus were in very fine voice, the "hello"s ringing out through the auditorium. Pappano conducts superbly, one might argue that several sections could have been reigned back as the singers struggle a little, but he conjures a wonderfully passionate performance from all involved.

The production is a mixed bag in my eyes. The sets are unbelievably large (and take ages to change so there's a lot of interval) but don't actually impress quite as much as they could (not a patch on Oman's Bohème). They attempt total naturalism but there's something Disneyish about the production. The Bar in Act I feels like a film set, almost right but it's sufficiently close to reality that the choreographed movement looks really unnatural. Act II's log cabin looks more than a little plastic and don't even get me started on the "blizzard" (which is something that should really be worked on before the next revival). Act III is the highpoint with an enchantingly bleak outdoor setting with massive Waterwheel. The costumes too exhibit Disney like cowboys and indians plus some particularly awful (hysterical) Asian outfits (the facial hair is not PC). Yet for all it's tackiness there are some fantastic moments. The card game at the end of Act II over the half dead body is an image I'll not soon forget and the hordes of singers running around in Act III makes for a very exciting finale. When Cura stands defiant just before they attempt to hang him, blood dripping from his mouth, I was more moved than I really should have been. Whilst it fails at the epic it really hits the nail on the head when it comes to the central emotional narrative. Dripping blood might not be the most believable situation but here they make it work and conjure a whole gammut of emotion to boot.

The staging may not be the most realistic affair but it is effective when it comes to honing down to the real nitty-gritty and with singers like these there are moments in this that rival anything you'll see on the stage. Cura and Westbroek offer simply stunning performances and supported by Pappano in the pit and a firey line up in the smaller roles, it doesn't get much better than this.

De Profundis

"De Profundis" is the kind of theatre that I always feel compelled to go to because somewhere in my misguided mind, I think it'll make me a better more rounded person (I can dream at any rate). On paper, Corin Redgrave reading a masterpiece of English literature, sounds pretty good. Exciting even. In reality it's a snooze fest, I wrote recently (literally last week in fact) that a ninety minute one acter can feel longer than a nine hour epic. Well here's my first piece of evidence. I physically aged during these sixty minutes (and I'm none the wiser for it).

I suspect for those with knowledge of the original text this might be a fantastic way of seeing it in a new light. For those of us coming fresh, it amounts to what feels like an excessive, rambling, self-indulgent (yes one can self-indulge in misery) and frankly inconsequential text. I've read enough of the original since I saw the play yesterday to realise it's none of those things, and indeed it's damn moving to read. Onstage, despite the skill of Redgrave, it really amounts to very little without prior knowledge and that's the kind of expectation I cannot resolve myself with. If a piece doesn't work on an audience with no prior education it isn't a good one. This really doesn't.

Corin Redgrave imparts a great deal of feeling into everything he says but without absolute concentration it's almost impossible to follow and no sense of the overall structure of the letter comes across. He didn't vary his emotions or actions much over the course of the hour so it all felt very repetitive (limp wrists and an accent will only get you so far). Worthy theatre this might be and for a small, select audience I suspect almost revelatory but for the rest of us, it's a very long evening at the theatre.

Cavalleria rusticana & Pagliacci (English National Opera)

The English National Opera have an incredible knack for avoiding the average. That's not entirely a compliment. For every great show, such as "Lucia" or "Punch and Judy", they turn out a couple of turds, such as "Rosenkavalier" or "Lost Highway" (don't even get me started on "Lost Highway"). The distinctly average seems quite hard to find. "Cavalleria rusticana" and "Pagliacci" ("Cav" & "Pag", as they are more generally known), a double header, has managed to take this bizarre erraticism to its natural conclusion. "Pagliacci" displays superb inventiveness, incredible staging and fine singing to produce a wonderful seventy minutes. "Cavalleria rusticana" is badly designed, curiously under-directed (or under-rehearsed, hard to tell) and variably sung. It's amazing the same creative team was behind both.

"Cav" was never going to work with the set given. One incredibly cramped town meeting room (pretty nondescript really) and a thin strip in front. Considering the emphasis in the programme and advertising about this being a "verismo" work (realism being the key thing here) it plainly isn't, with this tiny room regularly being filled with vast forces singing prayers and drunken songs in equal measure. The characters several times state they are outside (which they kinda aren't what with the whole roof and walls bit) and the killing behind the orchard also seems to take place in this one room. Ignoring the fact that it doesn't make sense with the text it's also hugely impractical to squash all the action into about a fifth of the stage, the untidy chorus hardly fit. The direction of the leads is no better. Turiddu's opening serenade occurs onstage which is unusual but not a problem except the characters are positioned in such a manner as to have him facing away from the audience throughout. As a result he shouts the entire thing, can't be pleasant for him and it's certainly not pleasant for us. The big Santuzza/Turiddu moment, virtually the hinge of the opera, was absurdly directed. It was unclear exactly who wanted who to do what. One minute Turiddu is pushing Santuzza out the door the next he's stopping her. The singers seemed to have no idea what they were doing and what contact they made with each other seemed largely improvised. The one novelty of the production was the mentally disabled brother, but the point of him entirely eluded me. Perhaps he demonstrated that Alfio is bad because he mildly mistreats him with a ball (very mildly) and Lola is very nice to him which reflects well on her. Like everything else here it was confused and just showed a general lack of effort.

The singing was on the whole better than the staging deserved although little really stood out. Peter Auty, as Turiddu, always sounded like he was trying too hard, making the notes but not in an entirely clean, bright way. His character was a bit wishy washy but in the context of the production that probably wasn't his fault. Jane Dutton did well as Santuzza. Her voice vibrant and exciting to listen to, she wasn't faultless but stood above most of the others. Roland Wood managed to create a much more believable character than anyone else and vocally was strong but didn't always have the stage presence to match. Fiona Murphy is a pretty thing but might as well not have been in this for all the impact she made, not really her fault (I solely blame Richard Jones for pretty much everything here). What she sang she sang well, but there wasn't much of it and she was sidelined during most of the action (even the stuff she was supposed to be involved in). Kathleen Wilkinson completed the singers and she has a fine voice even managing a modicum of emotion in places. The chorus seemed ill rehearsed both vocally and in their movements. The diction was pretty poor all round although Wood definately stood out. The orchestra under Edward Gardner sounded good but played unremmittingly loudly which began to grow tiresome and weakened the impact of the end. I felt sorry for all involved, they could have knocked this together in half an hour before it started and it wouldn't have been much different.

Returning from the interval my hopes weren't high. Apart from some rather nasty gore at the end of "Cav", little except for a double expresso had kept me awake. Oh how things changed. From the very entrance of Tony (Tonio usually) at the start of "Pag" this was spectacularly impressive. I'm sure some purists will balk at the updating but it's done with such commitment and wit, I was completely smitten. Updating to the 70's comedy circuit had no advantages on me (well before I was born), I know little about the period but everything about it just clicked. The whole setting isn't hurt by the exceptional sets and lighting. A man by the name of Ultz (that is all) seems to be behind the sets and costumes, for "Pag" he has created some frankly special designs (so what happen in "Cav"?!?!). The various views of the interior of the theatre are simply magical (it's quite clear the budget was not evenly divided between the Operas) and the play within the play is almost funny (which is impressive because on paper it really isn't). I could wax lyrical about this staging all night, really quite brilliant.

The singers have a better go of it as well. Geraint Dodd made a very decent fist of Kenny's (Canio) big, deeply moving aria "Put on the Grease Paint" ("Vesti la Giubba" pre-translation) and maintained that intensity throughout. His last moments are both riveting and emotional (my favourite kind of Opera). Christopher Purves didn't always have the lyrical beauty of Dodd but his diction is impeccable and his voice conveys emotions and meaning. Mark Stone brings a wonderful passion to Woody (Silvio) and he projects his words beautifully. Mary Plazas was the disappointment for me. Never less than solid and she acted decently but her big aria wasn't as well sung as I'd expected. The chorus were much tidier here especially in their movements although words were still a bit of a mush (I'm always a little hard on choruses singing English though, since I can actually understand what they are saying). The orchestra also faired better albeit still with a tendency towards forte.

I'm still entirely perplexed as to how all this came about. The exciting inventiveness of "Pagliacci" was nowhere to be seen in "Cavalleria rusticana". Whilst I can't blame for Richard Jones (the man behind it all) for having more of an interest in "Pag" (it's more of a director's piece), to leave "Cav" almost totally unprepared seems pretty foolish. I can't entirely recommend this as a double bill. Frankly I'd recommend buying tickets (there are plenty) and turning up around eight-thirty (they irritatingly let latecomers in so you could still catch the violent end of "Cav"). "Pag" is ripe for revival but I'm praying the English National Opera pair it with a new "Cav", if it was half as good as their second half, this would be a stunning evening.

Ivanov

Few shows come with higher expectations and fewer still actually live up to them. The Donmar's dominance of London theatre continues with a year long invasion into the Wyndhams, presenting four classical works with incredible casts and budget ticket prices. "Ivanov" is first up and by golly it's actually utterly brilliant. As plays go, this isn't exactly my favourite. It veers from comedy to tragedy and back again within a heartbeat and suffers from some seriously iffy melodramatic moments, but when all is said and done it's both thought provoking and emotional.

Part of the success comes from the genius performance at the centre. Kenneth Branagh creates one of the most interesting performances you're ever going to see. Initially surprisingly resilient, it isn't until he crumbles beneath his table that you finally realise just how low this man has sunk. Beneath his depression and callousness he manages to give hints of just how these two women could fall so deeply in love with this apparently heartless bastard, he's a living breathing man. I didn't find my perennial problem with Chekhov characters, that they're just all too miserable to empathise with, was an issue. He wasn't miserable for the sake of it, here was a man suffering and you couldn't help but feel for him regardless of his behaviour.

The rest of the cast is packed with British theatre stalwarts and across the board the acting is largely impeccable. The play has too many characters which doesn't always help but the majority came across as three-dimensional people, even the tiny roles, which is a mark of how intelligently the whole production has been thought through. Malcolm Sinclair makes Shabelsky an amusing prankster but there's a sadness that shows through all that, a touching performance. Gina McKee exudes more life than anyone else as she slowly succumbs to an illness she doesn't know she has. My only disappointment came from Tom Hiddleston who doesn't make much of an impression as Dr Lvov. A hidious character by any standards and he's given a dire exposition speech at the start of Act IV, but Hiddleston just didn't make him very interesting.

It's a play that I find hard to enthuse about simple because it's so erratic. Each Act has a cliff-hanger climax and each feels forced and melodramatic, up till the end when things coalesce somewhat. The company make a very fine job of the endless shifts from near farcical comedy to graven tragedy but it never sits entirely comfortably especially in Act IV. The soliloquies act more as narrative devices than methods for developing character especially that given to Lvov towards the end, when he recounts what has happened during the interval, which is simple theatrical laziness and not even entirely necessary. It does have some genuine laughs, plenty of them in fact, and these mostly don't jar with the drama although seldom sit comfortably. A tidy running time means that even if I wasn't always completely swept up in the action, I was never bored.

It's not a wholly successful play but it is an entirely successful production. An exceptional central performance, strongly supported by all involved. The staging is nicely restrained and very effective. If the rest of the season carries on like this, it'll be one to tell the grandchildren about when I'm old and grey.

in-i

The National Theatre has rather stuck it's proverbial neck out on this one. "in-i" (the daftest name I've come across in awhile) is a pretty standard Akram Khan work of the type usually presented at Sadlers Wells. Top marks then for trying to get this sort of dance piece out to a wider audience, a month long run in the Lyttelton will have this work being seen by more people than any other contemporary dance show I can think of. Dangerous also because you get as many misses as hits in this genre and the misses can be utterly dreadful. I saw the final preview (things may change, though I suspect very few before press night today) and in it's current state this isn't a miss but it's not a huge hit either.

Not unlike "Sacred Monsters", Khan's previous piece with a single French female accomplice, it's fairly freeform with vocal interjections in the dance. This doesn't get as bogged down in navel gazing waffle as that show but it comes close with Juliette Binoche pinned to a wall (a neat trick) and telling us a story that dragged dreadfully. I must confess I can't remember anything about it now so unimportant did it feel. Another difference was that Binoche is no Sylvie Guillem. Her dancing is decent, she's clearly worked very hard at it, but Guillem extensions were never going to appear. Intriguingly then it's Khan's storytelling that is the most exciting. I knew he was one of the most talented performers around but his tale of racial insecurities as a child is deeply compelling and shows a totally different facet to his abilities.

The show falls into relatively distinct sections some of which work much better than others. The opening scene depicting a sudden infatuation is absolutely electric. Ten minutes in I thought this might be impossibly good. The strobing light (the lighting by Michael Hulls was nothing short of superb) from two angles makes Khan's dancing all the more astounding and the score flipped nicely into a purer, driving percussive mode as the vigorous dancing between the two kicked off. The voice over here really added to the piece, illuminating without distracting. A strong shift into something lighter came and this playful look at married life was passingly amusing but lacked any real impact. The show continues by meandering through a variety of variably dance/vocal based scenarios. The tango sequence had a certain flair to it but ultimately like much else here, it was pretty inconsequential. It's hard to comment on the choreography because there's relatively little pure dance on stage but when soloing Khan is absolutely magnetic. The joint choreography was relatively simple but a few times the chemistry between the two really knocked the piece up a level or two.

After the startling opening, that initial high is never again reached. Clocking in at just over an hour the presence of longeurs is almost unforgivable, and several sequences feel almost like padding. The programme is filled with grand ideas about "Love" but what occurred on stage wasn't nearly as illuminating as the two devisers clearly wanted. The two have great chemistry it just never amounts to much. This isn't a bad show by any standards but as one of the first to get such massive exposure, it's not that brilliant either. I suspect newcomers to this style of theatre will leave a little nonplussed and when shows like "Sutra" have come and gone with almost no one seeing them, this has to be seen as a missed opportunity.

Swan Lake etc... (Les Ballets Trockadero de Monte Carlo, Programme 1)

For the die hard ballet fan Les Ballets Trockadero de Monte Carlo is something of a breath of fresh air. Balancing decent ballet with slapstick fun this had everything from ballerinas (all male) hitting the deck to subtler ballet in-jokes (not terribly subtle). Well the "Swan Lake (Act II)" had at any rate. I'd hazard to say I haven't enjoyed a bit of dance quite as much as this genial lampooning in a good while. This cannot be said of most of the rest of the programme that drifted from the comedy to decent but deeply unexceptional dancing.

I could sit through the Swan Lake over and over again. From the flouncing Siegfried to hysterical Cygnets this was a tour de force from start to finish. I doubt I'll ever see the ballet in quite the same light again. Men en pointe is naturally funny and this lot have honed it to a fine art. Delicate this isn't but amusing it is. Performed with a delightful insouciance that both nails ballet's foibles (especially Russian with excessive épaulement throughout) whilst also showing a genuine affection for the art form. After the first interval however the show changed tone and it was a much less interesting one. The Petipa style "Pas De Trois" lacked any particular humour beyond the fact it was danced by three men in tutus. Now don't get me wrong, this was both impressive technically (This lot are very, very solid in their pointe shoes) and flirted with humour but frankly en travesti will only go so far. Viewed as misshapen women, which is what they become after only a little while, they were decent but unremarkable dancers boldly attacking average choreography. Now forgive me, but I began to find this a little dull. The piece that followed "La Trovatiara" had a little more spark and a couple of amusing moments regarding the heights of the male attendents next to the enormous female lead, but remained average dancing of average choreography. Things picked up with a quick rendition of the "dying swan". A return to the pastiche with an extremely funny stereotype of a Russian Prima-Ballerina wilting her way through the solo. Top marks for taking applause as well.

There were two intervals which seemed excessive in a two hour show but it did give time to read some of the programme which has more laughs than the second and third sections put together. The dancers all have brilliant names (Helen Highwaters and Ida Nevasayneva being just two examples) and their biographies are a hoot. The synopsis of Giselle is similarly witty, playing on the bizarreness of dance plots without feeling at all cynical. The final ballet "Majisimas" was better than anything in the middle section and finally showed the dancers' skills off. Robert Carter managed to show genuine flair and some fine technique despite his female attire and choreography (a fine fouetté in evidence). The drag humour had long worn thin but at least here the dancing was very good if still uninspiring.

Viewed as a comedy act the Trocks have some seriously funny stuff up their sleeves but when they try and tackle more serious work I just found them dull. I've no doubt men dancing female type choreography is very difficult and they do a very decent job of it but attempting to compete with regular companies in straight dance, they don't have a hope and a lot of the latter pieces had them doing just this. The Swan Lake is effectively worth the price of entry and if it had been just that this would be an easy five star show (possibly six in these inflationary days). Viewed as a whole though it's no more than a three, never less than solid but the drag gets old, real fast.

Lipsynch (Second Helpings)

"Lipsynch" is the sort of work that almost requires a second viewing (which is both good and bad). Lepage makes this as difficult as possible by programming far too few performances and making each one last all day but I've currently got the time (not for long) so I battled through this once again. I say "battled", in reality I've had, what felt like, longer evenings at ninety minute one acters, than during this nine hour epic. My opinions of the piece haven't dramatically changed from when I wrote my first review but if anything I'm more blown away by just how profound and emotional this piece was. It has it's longeurs and a couple of uneven sections but taken as a whole there is little to compare it with for sheer impact (except perhaps some of Lepage's previous work).

What surprised me second time round is how differently I viewed earlier parts knowing some of the links before they even happen. A conversation between Thomas and the multilingual doctor in Act II seems relatively insignificant until you realise what later occurs. When I saw the show the first time the massive number of links and threads meant many didn't quite permeate my skull. Viewed again this isn't such a problem. This is in many ways a failing of the show, the expectation should never be that the audience will see a work multiple times, but it's a minor one. You don't lose out by not seeing everything tied up neatly in a bow, it just adds to the wow factor with multiple visits.

Another surprise was how differently I viewed certain Acts. I all to readily dismissed Sebastian's Act as completely farcical when in reality it contains some of the most interesting ideas about sound and the voice. The "fart" joke remains a gag but it's not a cheap one. From the very first baby's cry some hours previous, sound is presented as one of the signs of life but here the same living sound is coming from a dead body. The wailing women present what many might consider an absurd manner of mourning but it's a reflection of both the society and the way we all use our voices differently. Others I'm sure will have taken these moments differently but it's too easy to dismiss (as I did initially) such moments as pure slapstick. Comedy but not cheap comedy. Jackson's Act similarly grew on me the second time round. The car which I thought fussy is actually rather clever with all the bits that make noise removed leaving only the frame and lights. The ultimate resolution of the Act still comes too abruptly to my mind, with Sarah one of the most fascinating characters quickly removed, leaving her relationship with Briggs left wide open.

It's an epic work that is far from perfect but contains more decent ideas than any other show I'll see this year. Not a bitesized chunk of theatre with an easy, obvious meaning but a sprawling work that every viewer will take different things from. I'm really sad it's gone now because I'd be more than happy to sit through it again. Lepage probably won't be back for an age but when he does return, you'd be a fool to miss him.

BBC Proms, Last Night of the Proms 2008

The Last Night of the Proms has to be one of my favourite nights of the year. Unfairly vilified as some sort of nationalist rally, it's actually one of the most inclusive nights you'll ever come across, yes the songs are British but that doesn't mean singing them has to be some imperial activity. Viewed for what it is, The Last Night of the Proms is simply good fun. Last year Anna Netrebko wandered on stage and stole the entire show. This year Bryn Terfel did pretty much the same thing, albeit by singing almost everything (even the stuff written for a tenor).

The first half is traditionally devoted to moderately "serious" (a questionable term) music and this year was no different. The opening Beethoven was ideal, brisk and exciting, exceptionally played by the BBC Symphony Orchestra under Roger Norrington. The bleeding chunk of Wagner that followed was the one bum choice in the entire concert to my mind. Without sufficient context even Bryn Terfel's meaty voice and superb presence failed to make this interesting, remaining beautiful but dull. The "Te Deum" from Tosca that followed was an altogether different proposition. I've heard a fair few singers sing this and I doubt I'll ever hear quite such a stunning rendition. I'm amazed the roof stayed where it was as the full BBC Symphony Chorus, aided and abetted by the huge Royal Albert Hall organ, blasted this out. Bryn (one of the few singers who seems exclusively referred to by first name) managed a thoroughly wicked and unbelievably brilliant performance with plenty of mugging to the cameras. He had a hard time competing with orchestra and chorus but he did surprisingly well, only being completely drowned once. One of the few concert performances that I've ever heard that rivalled a staged performance for drama. Beethoven's "Choral Fantasy" followed and this wasn't the tour de force that had preceded it. Decently played by Hélène Grimaud but although she attacked it well, I felt it lacked a bit of clarity rhythmically. She had a great rappor with the orchestra though and it was far from a bad performance, I just wasn't pulled into the music as I wanted. As Bryn returned for his next Opera exerpt it was quite clear he had no intention of keeping this a plain old fashioned concert. Fully garbed in Falstaff fatsuit it felt like we'd reached the second half early. Regardless it was a masterful performance with a character created within seconds of his arrival. I'd love nothing more than to see Bryn do the entire opera. It's a role he clearly loves. First half was something of a triumph then, bring on the second.

Part two was kicked off with "Funiculì, funiculà" an entertainingly familiar number. Rimsky-Korsakov's arrangement was used so the witty lyrics were dispensed with which was a pity in some respects but played lovingly none the less. "Silent Noon" came next and allowed both Bryn and Grimaud the chance to be a little more romantic. It was a similarly stunning performance from both, silencing a raucous audience with the pure beauty of the music. What followed was the first "premiere" of the evening. It was a folk song medley so "premiere" is perhaps the wrong word but ideal Last Night fodder. Bryn stepped up to the mark again, flawless as ever and apparently enjoying every minute. My one complaint is the lack of clarity in the programme as to whether the audience should sing. By the end it was clear we were supposed to (Norrington turned around to conduct us) but otherwise only small, scattered groups ever really got going which was a pity. The second premiere was a brave choice but a disappointingly gimmicky one. Top marks to the tech teams who almost managed to make it work but "Froms" didn't quite work when heard live in the Albert Hall. Having watch reruns on the iplayer, the relays from round the country worked a lot better on television because the sound quality was a lot better than what was being piped into the hall and the synchronisation perfect. It seemed quite fun at the time but in retrospect the gimmick was so flashy and overpowering, I was hardly listening to the actual music. An interesting idea but not one I'd like to see repeated. I've no problem with not observing tradition as long as what replaces it is just as fun and whipping out Wood's "Sea Songs" to replace them with Vaughan Williams's seemed a little silly. Still a fun bit of music but there's nothing in it to compete with the Hornpipe for pure entertainment value.

Norrington's speech was exceptional. Balancing humour with a very positive, worthwhile point, I don't feel he could have done any better. He cleverly played down all the "controversy" (a ridiculous one) that surround his use of vibrato (do people not have more important things to worry about???) without being too negative. He handled the crowd expertly, I take my hat off to the man, he was supreme throughout. The standard fare followed with the usual group sing-song which I truly love. Bryn Terfel again stole the entire event with his fourth outfit of the evening, a glorious Welsh Dragon themed jacket, during "Rule Britannia" and a verse sung in Welsh which was a happy variation on the norm.

A triumphant evening then, handled by the immensely charismatic Roger Norrington and dominated by the endlessly impressive Bryn Terfel who was perfectly in his element. I'm saddened it only happens once a year because the Last Night of the Proms really is one the most enjoyable evenings I know.

Woman in Black (Japanese Week)

Some seven or eight years ago I saw "The Woman in Black" and it left me semi-traumatised. I'm not sure anything before or since has come close to the level of terror I felt that night. Grabbing door knobs in the dark still scares the living daylights out me. A part of me has wanted to return for sometime just to see if I was just young and pathetic or whether this show really is all that. Usually I'd struggle to justify such a return but the producers cleverly introduced a totally pointless but intriguing idea. For one week only "The Woman in Black" would be performed in Japanese.

I can now confirm that, even whilst keeping half an eye on the surtitles throughout, this piece of "entertainment" is indeed the most terrifying experience I've ever come across. "Saw" and it's umpteen sequels have nothing on this. It was a day of terror: the morning spent wandering the Deloitte Festival at Covent Garden (which was scary for all the wrong reasons), the afternoon watching "Eden Lake", a decent, moderately frightening flick but still a walk in the park relative to the horrors of the evening. "The Woman in Black" has no blood or violence, none of the trappings of horror films, it's just pure stagecraft.

The Japanese actors, Takaya Kamimawa and Haruhiko Saito, were both very good but the language difference didn't actually change very much. The staging was pretty much identical to how I remember it (albeit from a fair few years ago) and Japanese ghost culture wasn't particularly evident. This wasn't a problem it just made the transfer more of a gimmick than anything substantial.

A show like nothing else I know. Sound effects, lighting and clever dialogue build to create near constant tension. Even knowing the ending, it still remains shocking. Few twists feel so organic, so real and so scary. If you're looking for a real scare give the cinema a miss and head to "The Woman in Black". You can't pause it or pretend it isn't happening, the ghostly woman is there, whether you like it or not.

Wayne McGregor's Deloitte Ignite 2008

When I first heard about the Deloitte Ignite Festival, I assumed it would be another white elephant on the road to accessible arts (as with Monday's malark). Big, flashy and entertaining but in no way progressive towards acquiring new Opera/Ballet lovers. I'll hold up my hands now and say I was wrong. In fact, it's a rather small, diminutive and for the most part boring event (which won't acquire any new Opera/Ballet lovers). I took to carrying the brochure for the upcoming season just so I could remind myself that the Royal Opera House is usually heaven on earth, not the half-empty, punishingly self-important venue it currently appears. A big issue was one of embarrassment and this may lessen over the weekend. There were more staff around than visitors. I've never actually wandered the building when a performance wasn't on and empty it's a much less exciting place (tumble weed wouldn't have been out of place). This was exacerbated by just how little is really in this festival and how much they've spread it out. The Hamlyn Hall had one small installation and was otherwise completely empty. It's being used for something specific tomorrow evening but considering the majority of the festival is not tomorrow evening this seemed like a massive oversight. Otherwise the various things are all sprinkled around and the venue simply failed to exude a festival vibe.

Upon arriving in the Link I first looked for Julian Opie's new art that was supposed to give "a rare sneak preview of what is to come later in the season". As I picked up my tickets I asked one of the charming box office staff (who had presumably been staring at it all day) if that was all it did. He smiled in a "yes, I know it's a bit rubbish" way and said that's all it does. Now if this LED of Sarah Lamb (I'm told it's Sarah Lamb but it could be anyone, male or female) doing a step, remarkably like the basic club dance from "Hitch", is a preview of the new McGregor work, I'm worried. I quite like the cover art he's done for the whole festival, it's simple and attractive, this "dancing LED screen" was neither.

Climbing the stairs to the Hamlyn Hall I became a little alarmed, lots of open space, lots of staff and one small installation thing. Had a little play on that, nice bit of engineering with mirrors and movement. Did it "redefine the relationship between viewer and technology"? Nope, following a moving object is hardly groundbreaking technology but it was neatly done and worth a couple of minutes fooling around. Approaching the escalators I got just a little excited. "The Silence is Twice As Fast Backwards" (A seriously cool name) which purported that "Each individual will trigger their experience simply by stepping onto the first step, to be pulled into a soundscape that will last the whole of the two-minute ride" (which also sounds monumentally cool). I rode all the way up the escalator and as far as I could tell nothing happened. I tried again, same result. I wandered over to one of the dozen or so bored looking front of house staff and asked why it wasn't working. I was informed that the bell noises that I'd been hearing since I entered the box-office link were the soundscape. Imagine my disappointment. I can hear bells whenever the campanologists get going near my home, I don't feel it constitutes a soundscape installation and nor does it need to be called "The Silence is Twice As Fast Backwards". So far so terrible.

I went out onto the balcony as it was a lovely day and ventured down to "Fields of Feathers" which was interestingly in the Lambert Studio which I've never been into before. Apparently this explores ideas surrounding "Swan Lake" and that experiencing this will allow me to return to the ballet with "a renewed understanding". This installation turned out to be a room filled with a perfume scent and large white feathers sticking out of bluish boxes. Now plucking Odette and her swan companions might make for an interesting staging (Bourne's production would have a shedload of nudity), plus if you did it to Odile as well you wouldn't be able to tell the difference which must have some post-modern interest if you're bored enough to try and find it. Load of codswallop then and slightly more insidiously a vehicle for selling perfume (there was a stand outside). At this point I was seriously considering running off before I was actually put off my Covent Garden obsession for good. Luckily I stumbled upon a sizeable congregation of people (twenty or thirty which was big by the day's standards) and moved closer to find out what the "art" was. Turned out to be chocolate tasting. Yay! The two people behind the stand also seemed to know quite a lot about chocolate which was fine, plus I like chocolate so it was all good. I still have a preference for the gorgeous women who were handing the stuff out at a couple of recent performances but one has to make do I suppose. I briefly popped up to the Clore which had a big black cube placed in the middle. Venturing inside "Breath" was mildly hypnotic for a minute or so but my attention span is clearly way too short, except when something's good, like the Ring Cyle or a Lepage Epic, when I'm more than happy to lose a few days. On my way back to the Hamlyn Hall I had a go with the scientists who slightly creepily convinced me a dummy hand was my own. Not sure it really constituted art but it was very, very clever. There was an exhibition that had some very decent photo's that showed different aspects of the Opera House. Much more interesting was the location of the exhibition in the Trust Rooms which aren't usually open to the public. Filled with classic memorabilia, including a stunning silver rose, this appealed to me far more than the actual exhibition.

The Zidane video I was told would be fascinating for "Football-lovers and football-loathers alike". Now I'm pretty much a football-don't-minder and found this passingly interesting. I was the only one watching whilst three staff looked on which had a serious cringe factor but I pretty much enjoyed ten minutes or so. Ninety-two felt like a bit much. I then zipped to lunch elsewhere before returning for the highlight by a country mile, "Siren". On paper it sounds pretty boring with two men slowly starting spinning speakers and then slowly turning them off again. However this actually managed what the festival had put on the tin, making me rethink my senses and perceptions (at least in my own shallow way). It perhaps overstayed its welcome by five minutes or so but was otherwise an absolute triumph. I briefly tried "You Get Me" which was supposed to be some sort of live action video game (which is cool) but I couldn't really get my headphones to work (the sound quality was awful) and having run a little digital man around like a headless chicken for a while I found someone called "Ivan" which I think was the idea. I then got asked some question by "Ivan", "What would you say if I told you I liked you?" to which my usual (and perfectly reasonable) response would be to run away. I started typing but, while I was at it, I suddenly got "game over", so presumably "Ivan" had died or something (which seems unlikely).

That was pretty much all there was on the Friday although there is an additional dance piece on Saturday and Sunday which I can't comment upon. Apart from "Siren" which virtually made my day there was absolutely nothing that in anyway appealed to me. I'm sure some will enjoy more than I did but the terrible ambiance about the whole building made me feel awful, even when eating the chocolate. The young, buzzy crowd that we've been told so much about weren't really in evidence either, there were a few other under-25ish people, mostly female (and I suspect regulars) but otherwise it was the usual older crowd (this may change a little over the weekend but students are still on holiday so that doesn't entirely work). Deloitte seem to be throwing 1.65 million pounds at this project over the next five years and that ain't small change. If I was them, I'd ask for my money back.

Don Giovanni (Royal Opera 1st Cast)

After the perceived excitements of Don Giovanni on Monday, Wednesday felt like a bit of a return to normality. The audience hadn't changed much but the press had at least moved on. Onstage things hadn't changed much either with some sterling vocal performances distracting from the leaden production.

Simon Keenlyside is one of the most intelligent singers around and he shows it to the full in the title role. He makes the Don even less likable than most singers but it's still impossible not to love him in all his despicable glory. He carried off the nastier moments better than the more lighthearted, the champagne aria didn't completely soar with the music travelling faster than Keenlyside's mouth. He throws himself at everything though with some impressive physical moments and consistently decent if not inspiring vocals. His Leporello was the experienced Kyle Ketelsen and the pair had fantastic chemistry. The faux seduction of Elvira in the second half could scarcely have been funnier with Ketelsen's immitations of Keenlyside's althletics absolutely hysterical. He's no slouch in the vocal department either powering out a witty "Madamina". The standout performance of the evening however came from Joyce DiDonato's rather unhinged Donna Elvira. Her voice was more than a match for the high notes, knocking out "Mi tradì" without batting an eyelid. She's back later on in the season and I await her return, she was fantastic on every level. The young lovers Anna and Ottavio were less impeccably performed. Ramón Vargas can hold a note nicely enough but lacked impact, his "Dalla Sua Pace" was nicely impassioned (some muppet's phone went off twice which can't have helped him either) and it was still a reasonable performance he just had a tendency to disappear into the background. Marina Poplavskaya announced she was recovering from some infection or another, yet again, which is supposed to buy her some let up but frankly I couldn't care less. If she was going to give a below par performance I'd much rather hear her understudy who is no doubt very keen to perform. She's hardly a starry performer who we've all come to see and she's also a serial offender when it comes to giving these announcements. So ignoring her plea for sympathy, it was a so-so performance. Her upper register sounded a little desperate, especially in her big Act II aria "Non mi dir", but outside of the high passages she was fine if unremarkable. It wasn't a particularly exciting performance but she managed to energise a few moments, her first entry with the Don sung with with a great deal of attack which really worked. Miah Persson got dramatically better between the two performances I heard, shedding the nerves of the first night to display a delightful, beautifully sung, Zerlina. Her "Vedrai, carino" was simply luscious. Robert Gleadow struck me as a little too intelligent a Masetto but vocally he was effectively flawless. Putting the icing on the cake was Eric Halfvarson whose Commendatore was terrifying. The finale was amazingly effective thanks to the sheer weight of his voice. The Royal Opera House Orchestra were in particularly fine form under the massively experienced batton of Charles Mackerras. He keeps things a little nippy, pushing the cast along at a fair clip but he produces a wonderful sound from everyone involved.

Francesca Zambello's production remains a dull affair albeit with an excitingly fiery finale. I'm in the minority in liking the final image of the Don in hell, a perfectly reasonable interpretation of his final release from the constraints of society, but you have to stare at a large curved wall for the first three plus hours to reach this mildly interesting moment. She conjures some vivid characters and the Leporello/Giovanni relationship is effectively portrayed but the designs are a vapid grey. The wall, outside of the party scene, always looks pretty much the same and this serves only to make the various settings confusing. There are some hands and faces apparently buried within it, but this is the extent of the imagery and, in a work of this length, it's hard to stay interested. Big flop of this production remains the bizarre metal hand whose first appearance can only be properly seen by a very small portion of the audience seated perfectly centre stage. Stray more than six feet from the centre line and you'll have to make do with a couple of sticking out bits of metal. It's big swooping appearance at the climax makes little more sense although at least everyone can see it.

An excitingly cast revival of a dull production. It's a long opera and Zambello offers little in the way of variety. Mackerras leads a fantastic cast that makes this a very worthwhile experience, movingly emotive from a aural if not visual perspective.

Don Giovanni (Royal Opera and the Sun)

In one of their most cack-handed schemes yet, the Royal Opera House (ROH) decided to sell tickets to the opening night of the 2008/2009 season through the Sun tabloid newspaper. Now I'm all for getting more people into Opera (it's virtually a personal crusade of mine) but this plainly isn't the way to do it. Ignoring my snobbish views on the Sun, it was quite clear from the audience make up that the majority there, weren't exactly regular Sun readers either and nor were they new to Opera. By advertising this performance so widely it made it less than difficult to trip down to the newsagents and buy a copy of the Sun on the one day that the ROH press had said the offer would be available. A point I'll raise at this point is that the ROH statistics may suggest differently, suggesting many more first timers. Anticipating that my account with dozens of purchases in the history probably wouldn't tick the right boxes for acquiring these tickets, I had my younger sister set up one, so my four tickets will all appear as first timers (which to be fair was true for two of the tickets). I suspect I was far from the only person to pull this trick.

However even if (this is a very hypothetical "if") everyone at the performance was new to Opera and regularly reads the Sun, the scheme still strikes me as a form of casual Ghettoisation. Sun readers for this performance, then back to the regular crowd on Wednesday. The impression given by the massively reduced tickets is that usually all the tickets are monumentally expensive and exclusive which isn't completely true. Yes, stalls seats are incredibly expensive but there are plenty of decent seats available (and the standing spots that I'm usually resident in which didn't even appear to have been sold at this performance) that don't cost an arm and a leg, many far cheaper than a night at some West End show. This scheme doesn't really send out that message, sending instead a rather mixed one about what exactly the ROH is all about.

One questions then why the Opera House doesn't create a scheme that regularly lowers small sections of the auditorium, say a row in each price band, and then raffle these off through a variety of means. A system such as this would actually break down the "elitism" (an iffy, misused word but often used in this context) rather than actually maintaining it as the current scheme does. It would also reduce the hardcore like myself pinching all the tickets since they wouldn't need to advertise heavily in advance it would only be a small number of tickets, and they might actually succeed at bringing in a new audience. The ROH would get less press but they'd actually be doing the right thing. Much more difficult to organise I grant you and there may be issues I haven't considered (there must be people much smarter than me working at the ROH) but they were handing out free wine with every ticket. Money clearly isn't a major issue here (they also omitted to mention how obscenely expensive the bar is usually). To make one thing clear however. I in no way wish to denigrate the efforts of the Helen Hamlyn Trust, anything is better than nothing and at least money is being spent on widening audiences rather than more flashy productions and casts. Nor does that mean standards should be lowered and thus far they haven't. Gaining audiences at the expense of quality serves no one and in the long term hurts everyone.

The second big news of the evening was the first ever live transmission to cinemas and this at least is potentially a brilliant system, both as a money spinner for the ROH and as a way of introducing people to an art that is only available in major urban centres. Twenty pounds seems like a lot to pay for the privilege of watching a performance from a cinema (it's more than I usually pay to hear the Opera's at the ROH) and I certainly wouldn't, but then I live near Covent Garden so travel isn't difficult or expensive. Living far from London and suddenly this price doesn't seem quite so pricey. I'll be intrigued to hear viewing figures because this is clearly a relatively new market (although the Met seem to be doing pretty well with it and they have the audacity to charge twenty five quid) but this could potentially be a positive scheme for everyone involved.

I've managed to step well outside my usual reviewing remit here but it's a topic I feel strongly about and in my opinion the ROH are busy scoring own goals over the whole issue (After the Deloitte Ignite festival which I'm attending this friday I may be spitting acid. If it fails to promote Opera and Ballet and just exists as a three day subsidised fairground which is what I'm expecting, you can expect another rant). Feel free to completely disagree, I might be well off the mark, but I'm an eighteen year old who spends his whole life at the ROH so could virtually be the poster boy for Opera/Ballet diversity and it wasn't silly stunts that got me involved, it was attending a startlingly brilliant performance of "Madama Butterfly" that like all great Opera will stay with me forever. I don't exactly hang around with Opera buffs either, most of my friends belong very much to the target market. I'm heading to the production again on Wednesday, which I booked long before this extra "first night" was added so it'll be a return to normal service then. In brief, my impressions from this evening were that it's a very decent revival of a production (which I've seen before) that is competent but uninteresting. Keenlyside is strongly cast in the title role (although getting on a bit for all the nudity) and DiDonato is an absolute revelation as Elvira. Poplavskaya sent a message that she was suffering under throat problems before the show and did underperform although she warmed up a little in the second half, it'll be interesting to see if much has changed by Wednesday. The ridiculous metal hand remains a hidious intrusion on the otherwise impeccably stage finale. A mixed start to the season then, with rock solid opera intruded upon by the ever spinning press machine of the Royal Opera House.

Lipsynch

Robert Lepage produces theatre like nobody else and "Lipsynch" his new epic is no different. Operating in a different paradigm to just about everyone else, it's a nine hour tour de force of fascinating aural experiment and inventive visuals. It's the kind of theatre that feels alive, like looking into a world and experiencing everything about it. His work probably isn't to every person's taste, it doesn't have a beginning, middle and end, but then nor does real life, it just flows from one character to the next. My only complaint was the length, at nine hours long it simply isn't long enough. I liked these characters so much I wanted to know everything about them and there simply isn't time.

The piece loosely arcs around the story of one woman's adoption of a baby boy, found in the dying arms of his prostitute mother. In reality this is only the merest slice of the complex web of characters and events that spans decades. This thread is the closest thing to a coherent structure you're going to find, yet every scene resonates with what has come before. Lepage weaves much more than stories, finding themes and ideas in everything but never drifting from the human side of things. That's what I find so instantly appealing about Lepage's work, whether it's a sprawling epic or a one man show, he never loses sight of what's important, real people.

Describing individual scenes and storylines rather misses the point of the show but several were so amazing I'm failing to resist. There's a meeting conducted in a restaurant in four languages by five people who don't really get on. It's the kind of moment that could never be written, only devised. A girl describes being repeatedly raped, as hands appear to claw at her skin. It's a moment when technology is used so perfectly that it makes a human situation more human. The scene and indeed the entire final act is harrowing in the extreme but not through the horrific, shock tactics that seem to have become a relative norm in theatres recently. Instead this nastiness is a result of carefully crafted characters and situations. If you think you've become desensitised to the terrible things in this world, think again. It's piece with a great deal of shading too, there's much humour amongst all the suffering. One Act is almost exclusively comic and reveals that even Lepage isn't above fart jokes. Lepage litters the work with secondary references, many of which I suspect I missed but all of which contribute to the colossal all encompassing nature of the work. He imbues an almost religious significance to vast swaths, ending the entire piece on a Pietà tableaux that made my heart weep.

Returning to my one complaint that the show simply isn't long enough. The reason for this is that all nine characters have incredible depth and there simply isn't enough time to explore them all. Even Ada and Jeremy who have the most stage time feel like they have much more to tell. Sarah, who has possibly the most riveting section of all (if unremittingly bleak), is left with too many loose ends for my taste. The late introduced Michelle too feels like a partially wasted opportunity. She has one scene that's played out from two angles, a fascinating bit of theatre, but she concludes with a speech that too tersely closes her down to much further exploration. The multi-lingualism also brings its own problems, albeit with advantages that far outweigh them. Michelle's poetry section didn't quite fly when translated into English via surtitles, but my friend who speaks fluent French tells me that it was just that the translations did no justice to the French.

There are so many elements of this magnificent work that I've failed to cover (I seem to have largely omitted to mention almost anything about the aural experience that is so integral to the show) but I'm going again next week so I'll knock up a second review (I fear more of a eulogy than a critique in this case) then. For now let me just say that whatever your opinions of theatre in general this is an event to savour. It's not an easy bitesize chunk of entertainment to treat yourself to after a fancy meal, it's so much more. It has its flaws (mostly that everything is so fascinating, the show has no right to end) but for every flaw I could find a dozen moments of sheer genius. See this, or regret it.

Dorian Gray

A new Matthew Bourne is always exciting. His choreography isn't exactly the finest you'll ever see, but amongst the current crop of choreographers he's one of the best story tellers. "Dorian Gray" is a little different. It represents a shift for him away from big spectacular popular works to a more gritty, darker story. Strangely this new, dirtier world succeeds only on a surface level. Bourne's "popularist" works have far more meaning than this stylish but hollow show.

The surface level shimmers with brilliance however and this, more or less, powers the work through it's first half. The designs and costumes by Lez Brotherston are hugely evocative of this seedy, glamorous world and provide efficient support to the rapidly moving plot. His outfits for Lady H are delicious. Terry Davies score is probably a love it or hate it thing: oppressive, bass heavy music. The trouble is that even if you really like the style, the music goes effectively nowhere. I'm not sure any real structure was even present with each scene attached to a different bit of music by whim. I actually enjoyed the overall sound but it did nothing for the narrative.

The choreography is effective in places but not consistantly. The opening few scenes quickly create the setting and the early pas de deux between Dorian and Basil (plus camera) is excellent. In true Bourne style, the plot is carried forward whilst characters develop, and at this point I thought I might be in for a top draw evening. Sadly the depth vanishes soon after this. What has impact initially, such as the sex, loses much of this impact the second and third time (Bourne doesn't stop at three sex scenes either, there are dozens). There's enough there to make it entertaining for a while, the conclusion of Act I kicks up a small notch with the genuinely effecting death of Cyril (for the more hardcore there are some clever Macmillan Romeo and Juliet allusions, which is a neatly subversive idea). The next half is a torrent of mayhem and death that becomes so repetitive it just becomes boring, and it all comes at the expense of any real substance. The introduction of the Doppelgänger is a massive error, swathing the narrative in layers of confusion without actually adding anything to the piece. Bourne writes in the programme some stuff about the Doppelgänger displaying the evil side of Dorian Gray's personality but that's hardly apparent on stage. There's a lot of depth in the programme that is in no way evident on the stage (Very fine historical article by Benjamin Ivry offers insight into the original work). Most disappointing is the end which is a colossal anticlimax. Having had at least the guts to drive the show forward with continuous insanity and violence, the whole thing just whimpers to a close with Dorian's badly staged death.

The steps are not difficult so the dancing is on the whole accurately attacked and the small cast throw themselves into it. It's difficult to fairly judge the lead roles because some are so sketchily presented. Richard Winsor pouts his way through the action and as with most things it's glossily effective but his downward spiral feels forced rather than an organic reality (Bourne's fault more than Winsor's). Michela Meazza has a bewitching look, well cast physically, but her wardrobe has more to say about the character than anything she dances. Aaron Sillis comes off relatively well. He creates a real, 3-dimensional figure and does it with great flair. None of the other characters are anything more than ciphers.

Bourne's updating of Dorian Gray is a disappointingly empty creation that never really gets a handle on any of the characters. There's some glossy fun to be had in the first half but even that fizzles out in the latter stages. Even excessive half-naked covorting gets boring over the course of two hours. The dancers try their best but it's a show without anything beneath the surface.

Hairspray

It's taken me awhile, but I've a soft spot for lightweight musical spectaculars and had to see this eventually. I've seen the film so had more than a vague idea of what to expect, plus half my friends seem to have beaten me to this and said it was brilliant. So I'd be lying if I said I didn't arrive with something of preconceived idea of what I was about to see. This perhaps hurt the show more than is fair. My expectations were high and frankly weren't met. Not nearly as tightly plotted as the film (mostly the first half which is too long) and the dance routines didn't have the zip I was hoping for. Don't get me wrong, this is still a good show, it's just not the awesome evening I was expecting.

The first half felt much weaker than the second. This is partly because most of the showstoppers are crammed into the second. The act picked up towards the end with the introduction of Motormouth Maybelle (Johnnie Fiori who was a highlight throughout) and her children but you have to drag yourself through "Miss Baltimore Crabs" to get there. Several songs could comfortably be cut (as they do in the film) without anyone knowing any different and that could only improve the show. Weaknesses in Act I can mostly be forgiven because Act II has it all, it's efficient and exciting. By the time "You Can't Stop the Beat" kicks in I was completely smitten. The sets look incredibly slick but there are still regular blackouts which disrupts the flow. Bright, colourful and packed with little witty touches they are pleasant on the eye and set the period perfectly. I'd have to describe the choreography as disappointing. Lacking the fizz of the period, there are a lot of flailing limbs and not a lot of control. The TV show sections in the first half are the worst offenders, whilst the final scene on TV is the best capturing that sense of fun I was expecting throughout.

The younger performers were variable. Charlotte Riby was understudying Tracy and whilst she has a corker of a voice she doesn't have much stage presence. A solid performance but not a riveting one. Ben James-Ellis (one of the Josephs off the television) proved himself quite the mover and has an excellent voice to match. Nicky Griffiths (also an understudy) was neither of those things, making a right hash of "Cooties" vocally and hardly blowing me away with her dance moves. The older performers were significantly stronger. Michael Ball proves his worth every time he steps on the stage. "Timeless to Me" the duet with Ian Talbot, not the best vocalist but a consumate performer, was a real highlight (including a bout of corpsing which is a rare sight in the hypercontrolled mega musicals of today). Johnnie Fiori lights up the stage with her voice, "I Know Where I've Been" a showstopper. Most disappointing was the company work that whilst proficient, lacked energy and as a result, a lot of the fun.

If Hairspray has perhaps one major element that trumps the vast majority of other recent musicals, it does attempt to make a point. The trouble is, the point is buried in the thickest layer of sentimental fluff you could imagine. I found the show straddled the meaning/fluffy fence reasonably but inevitably ended up as less fun than the pure fluff (Legally Blonde being an example of the finest sugary sentiment) and less meaningful than the more direct works (Spring Awakening being a decent exponent of this). I feel like I might have written a too negative review and part of this lies in my high expectations. This is a decent night out but it really isn't any better than most of the recent mega-musicals, many of which have struggled to run. Fluffy fun with a point, but a fairly light point and slightly leaden fluff.

Sick Room (National Youth Theatre)

Venturing to the Soho Theatre for the second time in two days (having never actually been there previously) I approached "Sick Room" with a fair degree of apprehension. The National Youth Theatre is a fantastic insitution but devised theatre from anyone is a risky proposition and with inexperienced performers riskier still. The first half was devised the second, a new one act work from Sean Hughes, a decent comedian but a relative novice at scriptwriting.

Unsurprisingly then the first half was hit and miss with probably more misses than hits. Seldom boring, the cast had real energy and are an attractive bunch but most of the sketches were gently humorous rather than laugh out loud funny. Top marks to the urine/wine drinking skit (deserves a place on one of the tv sketch shows) which gave me possibly my only belly laugh of the evening and the radio sequences, whilst seemingly unrelated to the general hospital theme, had some excellent performances. On a fractionally more meaningful note, the girl who breaks down after hearing her boyfriend has just died deserves an Olivier, she actually created a bit of poignancy about death and made me stop and think about what we were all laughing about. It was a pity there wasn't more of her and her genuinely effecting tears because amongst these gems was an onslaught of post-python absurdery ("Green Wing" clearly having a major impact) that often failed to hit the mark. The endless repetition of the "Not That" gag (I use gag loosely) couldn't have been less amusing and the pushing of screens, whilst visually interesting, became a tiring conceit although perhaps this was only because the whole act was a little on the long side. The central issue that I had was the serious lack of any substantial point, if there was something about the state of the NHS in it, I'd struggle to tell you what that something was. Interestingly (worth commenting on at least), the singing is top draw across the cast and the songs littered through were all performed with aplomb.

The second half made me feel deeply sorry for these young actors especially the poor girl who had to play a virus. This "virus" costume could not have been less attractive and her dialogue sounded like it had been written for a prep school assembly. The actress largely managed to maintain her dignity (and keep a straight face) and also displayed a terrific singing voice. The main character, a suffering doctor, had marginally better dialogue and the actor managed to at least conjure a character out what he was given but not many jokes to speak of. Most of the laughs came from the politician and his assistant. A politician with a drinking problem is hardly original but the performer carried it off and even managed to make a couple of Alzheimer's disease jokes work. His near silent lackey similarly made her role work even generating laughs when silent, much kudos must therefore be given for working around the rubbish script. There were lots of other minor characters none of whom made much impact. I liked the nurse with the gloves obsession, not sure why exactly, and the Scottish boy was a surprisingly deep character but this isn't a play I ever expect to see the light of day again.

The cast are a talented (especially vocally) bunch but I don't envy them the script they were given. Of course Sean Hughes can't be blamed for the variable first half but I've seen plenty of seasoned performers come acropper over devised work and this at least was never dull. There are three other National Youth Theatre plays running in rep for the next couple of weeks although sadly, I doubt I'll be getting to any of them. If you're looking for something a bit different it's a group well worth coming along and supporting, one or two might even be the stars of the future (maybe).

Sammy J in the Forest of Dreams

I'd previously thought that Avenue Q had stretched the puppet comedy musical to it's limit, Sammy J clearly thought differently. In the Forest of Dreams is on a somewhat smaller scale but frugally creates some impressive effects. It isn't the funniest show you'll ever see, but it's no lame duck either. The conceit of swearing puppets is initially hysterical (the talking tree is priceless) but wears pretty thin by the end of the show.

Sammy J himself is not the finest of actors. In a slightly terrifying way many of the puppets seemed to have more depth of character. He can land a good joke and builds an easy rappor with the audience but as a character, he too regularly steps in and out of the action which serves only to deflate the narrative. It's this constant braking down of the fourth wall that really prevents the show taking off, why bother with a plot at all if you aren't going to use it. Remarkably, despite the fact that many of the running jokes start to drag, the second half of the show is in fact stronger than the first. Sammy more or less sticks to his character and the plot drives forward. Even the disgusting king seems a little funnier.

Frankly though regardless of the hit and miss nature of the plot and Sammy's jokes, Heath McIvor and his puppets steal every scene. The best scenes invariably didn't even have Sammy in them. The two birds, who have no bearing on the plot whatsoever, are just bizarre enough to be utterly brilliant. Fallo manages to cover a great range of emotion on his inanimate face than Sammy manages in the whole show. The range of voices that McIvor generates is astonishing, I can scarcely belive only one man was behind them.

This isn't a great piece of entertainment but the two performers have enough flair to make it a decent one. The improv when things went wrong (which happened quite a lot although that was hardly surprising, it was a one night gig at the Soho Theatre) became the highlight of the show. Even the set half falling over became a joke. Tightening the structure would certainly make it a better show but in its current slightly scattergun form its still pretty good. Not for the easily offended (or Unicorn lovers), at least half the gags must involve body fluids, but for those who find such things amusing (I include myself in this group), this is a fun evening I'd happily recommend.