The Beggar's Opera (Royal Opera)

I'd read a lot of very negative reviews of the Royal Opera's new production of "The Beggar's Opera" but none had really prepared me for just how dull this work is. Dated in the extreme (which is only emphasised by the modernish dress), the dialogue belongs in a different era and the whole thing is topped off by being riddled with quasi-operatic tunes of limited interest. What was the point of this whole exercise? Worst of all, it's not even funny. I don't think I laughed once and it wasn't because I was laughing internally, a substantial piece of me was dying inside.

The merits of the work itself are quite hard to gauge because Justin Way has done great work in crippling the piece by throwing dozens of ideas into the melting pot and watching them all blend into a dirty mess. Apparently this opera is supposed to act like a mirror to society, challenging the audience and forcing them to think. Way does this by quite literally putting a chunk of the Royal Opera auditorium on stage. Beyond this obvious "mirroring", little is terribly clear. The titular Beggar, played by Sirena Tocco, is a Royal Opera Usher but it's an idea that doesn't bare any fruits, it's one of far too many ideas, and makes little sense once you see her leading latecomers into the "auditorium", an act that would cause to riots in the stalls. Her curious accent doesn't make much sense either and whilst most of the cast have terrible diction it makes her almost unitelligible. The sixties Soho setting has little impact beyond creating a suitably grimy environment and acts more as a hindrance than a help in conjuring the spirit of the original piece (or any meaningful resonance with a contemporary viewer). All in all it's an entirely incoherent production that fails to communicate anything other than boredom to the audience.

Britten's songbook calls for operatic singers (which is itself perhaps an error) but a good deal of the material is spoken dialogue. The game bunch of singers in the cast are not all consummate actors and many really struggle. Jeremy White makes a decent fist of Peachum but his spoken diction was pretty poor. Susan Bickley was suffering with some sort of infection and it showed, weak tone and zero projection. Both Leah-Marian Jones and Sarah Fox (Macheath's two brides) survived relatively unscathed, neither gave particularly remarkable performances but were solid throughout both as actresses and singers which is high praise relative to this piece. Tom Randle made for a rather wet Macheath, about as threatening as a kitten. He sang reasonably, solid intonation and better diction than most, but it was a limp performance otherwise. Robert Anthony Gardiner did fine but failed to rouse much interest, perfectly acceptable but dull. Much kudos to Frances McCafferty who completely bought into the ethos of the piece with her disgusting Diana Trapes overcoming all production woes to almost derive some humour. The chorus sang fine but weren't the finest dancers (bizarre outfits as well) and overall provide more of a distraction without having much impact.

The second half might be the slowest eighty minutes I've ever experienced, I spent the entire time waiting for the hanging scene to arrive and when it finally did and the audience were asked to save Macheath few seemed terribly interested. A part of me wanted to cry out "hang the bastard", but a larger part didn't really much care as long as the show actually ended. Whatever the merits of Britten's music (I'm not convinced this stands up next to his wider canon although I can't really say on the basis of this production) everything about the Royal Opera's new production is a mess. Overloaded with ideas, few of which should ever have reached the stage. An absolute waste of time.

Cirque de Glace

"Cirque de Glace" should be a spectacularly trashy but unbelievably entertaining bit of theatre. I've limited experience of ice dancing but there are some clearly hyper-proficient dancers on stage, and even without any of the tacky sets and costumes they'd be more than enjoyable to watch. Sadly this is a show that thinks it's more than just fun, overburdened with a most dreadfully self-indulgent theme and a voice-over from hell. The opening couple of minutes just have this booming voice (think cinema trailers) intoning about the earth's creation. There's an admirable quantity of real science (basic but accurate) but it's boring and frankly insignificant (who goes to an Ice Show to hear about "axis tilt"?). Whatever substance the opening passage has, once the word "gaia" starts flying around it's quite clear there's a half-baked environmental message just waiting to emerge, and sure enough it does.

Whilst the skating itself is top-notch, constantly exciting and made excellent use of the limited space, a good deal of the choreography is simply awful. The curtain rises on a cheap looking volcano with all the dancers standing around performing a shoddy "fire" dance, mostly consisting of a sort of praying action at the volcano. Once they start skating about things pick up immeasurably but far too much of the evening is spent with the artists standing still and waving their arms. A good deal of the show is spent in the air with artists whirling about on wires and cloth. Whilst not particularly impressive it's all done with flair and makes the piece a little more varied than it would otherwise have been. The Russian Bar is probably the most impressive element other than the skating but it feels entirely tacked on and just a bit too circus for my taste.

The costumes convey a great deal of the passage through time that the show is trying to evoke and mostly, they look alright. Some stray from camp fun to just hidious however with some truly unattractive space suits that serve only to make the dancers look less capable than they are. The lighting is flashy and expensive looking but too often pointed at the audience. Other than removing epileptics from the crowd, the constant blinding light serves little purpose other than to prevent the poor souls on stage, who are performing their hearts out, from being seen. The set design oozes tackiness with some trendy projections adding little but it serves the piece well enough (although it seemed to use surprisingly little of the Oxford New Theatre's stage). The soundtrack isn't bad but nor is it terribly interesting.

I can't help but feel that if you made the cast just do their thing without being hindered by the cod substance of this production this could be absolutely stunning. Rarely have I seen a piece with such talented people made to look quite so average. If they really needed a story, make the cast sing a few Disney numbers and use that to carry the show between each stunt, this quasi-meaningful new-age weirdness serves neither the dancers nor the audience. The auditorium was incredibly sparse at the performance I attended (top tier closed and only about a quarter filled in the dress circle) but I can't say I'm that disappointed. It's a fairly shoddy show redeemed only by some remarkable skating. If they're aiming to be "Cirque du Soleil" on ice. They've got a long way to go.

Ballet Boyz: Greatest Hits

It's a testament to the quality of the work the Ballet Boyz have commisioned that they can even manage a "Greatest Hits" show. Still a much smaller outfit than their success would suggest (although the Oxford Playhouse was rather underpopulated at this performance), it remains pretty much the two of them and their regular partner Oxana Panchenko (plus the assistant producer who is made to dance). Sadly whilst their repertoire remains stunning, both Michael Nunn and William Trevitt are starting to show their age. Neither are past it yet, but the flair they had only a few years ago is just starting to fade.

They opened with their customary videos and these are as brilliant as they ever were. A clever conceit that removes all the po-faced seriousness that strikes a great deal of contemporary dance (The Solos Project around the corner was a serious offender when it came to this). Unlike some of their previous shows it was all pre-recorded (no fly on the wall moments as sweaty, tired dancers walk off stage), but the retrospective of their early days that starts the evening was both entertaining and fascinating.

The opening piece "Broken Fall" by Russell Maliphant starts slowly but once the three dancers start operating as a group the whole piece takes on new dimensions. Both as a spectacle and a quietly meaningful work this is hugely successful. The characters all seem totally casual and at ease (something the "Boyz" seem to specialise in) yet are totally dependant on each other, the constant risk of falling balanced by this apparent wariness and mistrust. The score, by Barry Adamson, has it's moments but doesn't amount to a cohesive whole, shifting feel from section to section without any overarching theme or construction. Panchenko is no Sylvie Guillem but she is a marvellously lithe dancer with a flair for precision. She gets tossed around no end in this piece which contains some jaw dropping lifts but never appeared a weak party, the closing statements are hers and hers alone. The two "Boyz" looked good here. Trevitt appears in the better shape but both remain consumate professionals and only a couple of scruffy lifts took the shine off an otherwise polished performance.

The next piece "EdOx" is a work I have come across before, when it was a duet for two women and was entitled "AmOx". It was reworked for Edward Watson in London (sadly I missed that run) but his part has now been taken by Tim Morris. Morris isn't quite the theatrical dynamite that Watson is and the piece doesn't really take off. Oxana Panchenko displays a knack for the unconventional choreography of Rafael Bonachela (whose work I have yet to be bowled over by) but the relationship between her and Morris didn't quite gel. The silent opening has a certain mysticism but it soon becomes a rather too standard and not terribly interesting piece of contemporary dance with too much sticky partnering.

Panchenko displayed incredible stamina by quickly changing to go on for the next work, "Propeller", which she danced with Nunn. This is an absolute tour de force of abstract choreography capturing real emotion without ever attempting anything approaching a narrative. The relationship between the dancers is totally elliptical, yet full of passion. The clean balances and almost exultant lifts make this a totally compelling work. Panchenko reveals yet more layers in this work, more elegant, her arms delicate and refined. Nunn is quite exposed in this choreography but brought emotion where he no longer has the balletic refinement. What really worked was the way the two moved together, a constantly shifting partnership, both strained and absolutely united.

The closing piece "Yumba Vs Nonino" is the Ballet Boyz party piece and with good reason as it's great fun. Disappointingly though, the many performances it has received since it was first premiered a few years ago have taken some of the zip and buzz out of it. I saw the first performance and whilst it was a little messy then, it had an edgy, excitement to it and was all the funnier as a result. It may just have been an off night but at this performance the piece sat in an uncomfortable region where I couldn't quite work out whether this male/male tango was supposed to be humorous (which of course it is but the laughs just didn't flow). Too mechanical and regulated, technically better dancing perhaps but without the flair that the pair previously brought to the work. The choreography remains astonishingly well done (Craig Revel Horwood really can do more than snipe at celebrities), the balance of ballet and ballroom carefully handled.

The Ballet Boyz have been a tremendous force for good in popularising dance. Their documentaries, as well as their stage work, have remained consistantly brilliant for some years, but they are now starting to show their age. They're not quite done yet though as this decent bill demonstrates. Panchenko is now a stunning dancer in her own right and neither Trevitt nor Nunn are quite over the hill. Regardless of the future of the Boyz, they have produced work, "Broken Fall" for example, that deserves a life long after they themselves have gone. Hopefully other companies will take up their mantle of accessible (but entirely un-dumbed down) contemporary ballet but it won't prevent the end of the Ballet Boyz being a tremendous loss to the dance world (let's hope that won't be for a couple of years however).

Oliver!

"Oliver" is a musical I hold dear to my heart (I suspect I'm not the only one either). It's currently being described by many as the greatest British musical ever (hyperbole flying faster than it did around "Billy Elliot"). In many respects I don't disagree with that statement when it comes to the songbook. Almost every tune is a brilliant one and the lyrics aren't half bad either. What I'd entirely forgotten in my rose-tinted memory of the last time "Oliver" hit the stage (in an almost identical production) is just how dramatically inept it can be at times. There's not quite enough narrative in the brilliant songs nor enough dialogue to get from one song to the next, the fairly complicated (and moving) plot ends up truncated and robbed of a good deal of the emotion it should have.

The production, from about three directors (I've no idea what creative input Rupert Goold made), is a mammoth endeavour and looks a million dollars (it cost more I have no doubt). The sets are both incredibly slick and manage to evoke a wonderful Dickensian London (much credit must go to the infallible Paule Constable and her lighting). Matthew Bourne's choreography isn't the most inventive, but he's a dab hand at creating visually exciting routines and the children are drilled impeccably. The performances all tend towards the caricature (partly a fault of the musical itself, introducing far too many characters that are rapidly thrown away), but no one fails to make an impression. The only truly disappointing element of the production is the singing, which almost across the board occurs as more of a musically pitched shouting match. Rowan Atkinson has been cast as an actor so some vocal indiscretion (he can't really sing) is par for the course, but with the exception of Tamsin Carroll's Nancy (and the children) any lyrical quality is sapped straight from the piece and the frankly wondrous songs lose a great deal of what makes them great.

The night I attended had one Gwion Jones as Oliver. From his name it's safe to assume that he's probably Welsh. You'd think that they might have given him some accent classes. All the other actors do a lovely line in various London accents (including the other children), why does Oliver flaunt a Welsh one? Ignoring the accent he's a solid actor, didn't flinch from the limelight and, whilst I've heard finer boy singers, hit most of the notes. He was however, comfortably out performed by his Artful Dodger, Robert Madge, who looked like he'd been playing the role for most of his short life. Charming and positively rogue-ish, he owned the stage in a manner many grown adults entirely fail to do.

Rowan Atkinson has attracted a great deal of press but beyond a few Mr Beanisms he hasn't taken Fagin anywhere new (to be fair, the role of Fagin doesn't seem to have changed one iota since Ron Moody created it). His Moody impression is pretty good and I liked the sexual ambivalence he brought to the role but there is a serious problem with his entire performance. He can't really sing at all, and doesn't really try either, more or less speaking his songs. He carries them off with a great deal of aplomb and fantastic comic timing but in some respects it's a travesty that "Reviewing the Situation" has been reduced to a mere comic ditty (I very much liked the change from clarinet to violin however). He doesn't serve "You've Got to Pick a Pocket or Two" any better but he's helped through by the children (I couldn't have higher praise for the young members of the company who were flawless throughout). The Atkinson/Bean/Blackadder traits largely work (although don't add much) but the teddy bear felt like a step too far.

I deliberately picked a night with Tamsin Carroll who is tried and tested in the role (she won all the awards in Australia), Jodie Prenger might be great but from what I saw of her on television, I wasn't convinced. Carroll was the only singer to overcome the gravel that all the adult principals appeared to have been eating and produce something genuinely lyrical. Her "As Long As He Needs Me" was an absolute highlight. She produces an incredible wealth of sound but could draw it all back and produce a genuinely pleasant piano voice during the softer moments. A lovely actress who made a great deal from a superb role.

The remaining parts are almost entirely written off by being too small and what they were given songwise wasn't well delivered. Burn Gorman made for an amusingly one-dimension Sykes, a big bully with a hole for a heart. "My Name" was delivered in the standard (for this company) gruff speaking tones, but he committed to it and it sort of worked. His death was the only woolly moment directorially with a rather badly staged fall from a chimney top. Julian Bleach does well in his tiny role (easily the most creepy Dickensian performance), low marks to Julius D'Silva who does little but sing Mr Bumble badly.

I really wanted to love "Oliver" but a combination of what I found to be a rather abrupt script and a good deal of really poor singing let things down. "Oliver" has some of the finest songs in the musical songbook but few of them really flew. Praise be to Carroll, who stamps herself on Nancy and sings well in the process (she'd be taking all the awards home if she wasn't the alternate). Atkinson is a star who demands to be watched but this isn't the part for him, too restricting and largely sung. The sets, costumes and lighting are near flawless and the choreography never flags. Maybe a later cast will sing the songs properly, but until that happens, for all it's merits (and perhaps even more so for how many of them there are) this remains disappointing.

La Bayadère (Royal Ballet)

"La Bayadère" is one of the ballets in the rep that requires top notch dancing. You can enjoy a performance of "The Nutcracker" without especially brilliant performances but "La Bayadère" just looks silly unless everyone comes out and gives it their all. Between plastic snakes, almost indecently skimpy costumes and hysterical plot line there's much that shouldn't be taken too seriously. The Royal Ballet tackle the piece with a straighter face than perhaps it deserves but at this performance at least you couldn't fault them for trying even though the principals weren't all brilliant.

Thiago Soares was a late replacement as Solor and he gave a very impressive performance under the circumstances, he's a hugely theatrical performer but he didn't skimp on the massive leaps. I don't know how much rehearsal he had with his leading ladies but his partnering was solid throughout (one minor error in Act I). What failed to work was his relationship with the two women. It wasn't till the third Act that any sparks flew at all and by then it was too little too late. Lauren Cuthbertson, on debut, easily took top female honours, remarkably assured yet danced with a constant edginess that was truly exciting to watch. Her revulsion from the High Brahmin's proposition was simply superb and by the time she grabs the knife, the shock and sadness was chilling. She even brought off the rubber snake which is about the highest praise that can be given to a Nikiya. Sadly Isabel McMeekan gave a fairly duff performance. She's not to my mind ideally suited to Gamzatti,  far too compact and solid a dancer, and the sexy bitchiness was entirely lost on her. Her pure dancing wasn't entirely top rate either especially towards the end of the first Act when she seemed to tire. Bayadère is one of the few narrative works where the corps really get to shine. Act II was an absolute triumph of unity. Perfectly matched leg lines and musical accuracy built to a truly stunning performance. David Pickering was terrifying as the High Brahmin, clear precise mime completed by some crazed facial expressions. Kenta Kura nailed the exciting Bronze Idol solo with his customary flair and Cindy Jourdain made something of her Shade, both carefully controlled in the slower passages and fiercely exciting in the allegro.

It wasn't an entirely successful performance but the smaller roles and corps were in terrific shape. An entirely silly, if very attractive, ballet with endlessly listenable if uninteresting music by Ludwig Minkus. McMeekan was well off the pace but Soares was on form and Cuthbertson gave an outstanding debut performance. Not a ballet of huge merit, but the Royal don't give it short thrift and it's certainly makes for an entertaining evening.

The Solos Project

For reasons I still can't quite fathom, I found myself spending what should have been an evening devoted to a post exams lash up in the tiny, rather cramped, but subtly charming Burton Taylor Studio. Braving the ferocious temperature (air-conditioning didn't seem to kick in till the second half) for a short evening (about sixty minutes plus ridiculous interval) of new solo pieces. A solo dance piece is rather exposed in such a small space in front of such an intimate audience and sadly the vast majority came a cropper. They certainly ranged though, from a couple of pieces that I'd describe as solid and imaginative to one piece that had me all but ready to slit my wrists.

Hannah de Cancho kicked things off with a highly arresting image that never quite lived up to its initial promise. The image of a woman apparently running in the air, evocatively lit with sounds of water emerging from the speakers. What followed was a fairly standard modern piece (entitled "Routed") with lots of rolling on the floor and significantly less imagination. The music was well chosen, a fairly lovely quasi-religious section sat at the centre, but nothing really compared to the opening. Somewhat disappointingly de Cancho chose to return to the first image at the end, but the effort at creating a cyclic idea came both too late and too weakly.

"Hoop", the piece that followed, was so utterly cringe inducing I actually felt ill. Fiona Millward, a woman old enough to know better, spoke to the audience in a "watch with mother" fashion about things of very little consequence for a depressingly long time. When she eventually came out with the question "Are you happy?", I felt very close to shouting "I was till you started". There wasn't a great deal of dance in this piece and what there was is hardly worth mentioning. Painful.

"Boom and Bust" was probably the most choreographically interesting piece in the evening but it was let down by some leaden dancing. Susie Crow's steps had the feel of a slightly drunk MacMillan (perhaps a generous comparison) but Debbie Camp just gave the impression of a slightly drunk dancer. The trouble arose from Camp's inability to perform the Boom section with enough skill to make the Bust section work. I initially got the impression that the point of the piece was that this was a middle aged woman forced to sell herself on a Las Vegas style stage to survive, when the actual Bust section came along and she started taking jewelry off I was totally wrong footed. This was the most appropriate use of Nancarrow music I've ever come across (As his pianolo assaults go this wasn't too bad, especially compared to the rubbish served up by Cunningham not long ago) and the costume and lighting was the most cohesive of any of the pieces. Just a pity about the wobbly arabesques and uncomfortable extensions.

"Love after Love" started really well, Ruth Pethybridge threw herself into her role with real gusto and offered up the most impassioned performance of anyone. There was genuine emotion in her face and it conveyed far more than the fairly rudimentary steps could. The piece went rapidly downhill when she stopped moving and started babbling. The dismal monologue that emerged rapidly deflated the genuine content of the prior few minutes. She got back to dancing after a shortwhile (thankfully) but even then the dance was overcome by the desperate attempt at overt meaning with the final song "Dancing with Myself" a brutally obvious continuation of her earlier ideas.

"Solo #4: Blotter" (on some level you've got to love the pretence that goes into some of these pieces) wasn't a piece of dance; it was an imaginatively lit, mercifully brief bit of writhing under a thick costume. Supposed to evoke the work of Juan Muñoz, it didn't, it was far more remincent of a bad horror film (Last year's London Mime Festival had a similarly bizarre piece, but one that had much more interesting Muñoz overtones). The low lighting was atmospheric but all it really did was disguise how little movement there actually was in this piece (the programme suggests Beckett associations but I'm going to have to cry rubbish to that claim). No doubt some will leap to claim it's a work of tremendous power but it wasn't. It was a man standing in a silly suit moving a stick around (very slowly).

The final work was so dramatically different one wonders why it was on the same bill. "Tarana" was a piece of very authentic Indian dance by Anuradha Chaturvedi. It didn't even sit in the contemporary Kathak style that people such as Akram Khan and Gauri Tripathi so brilliantly expound (sending Kathak popularity in the UK through the roof). Here was a clean, beautifully danced section of choreography brimming with joy. Her supple wrists, fluttering head and rapid fire footwork were simply ravishing to watch. Stripped of much of the baggage that came with almost all the other pieces this was just a fabulous celebration of dance.

All in all it was a pretty miserable evening, albeit one that finished on a high thanks to the skill and excitement of Chaturvedi. It's an interesting idea to expose dance on such a small scale but sadly it seems to have dragged an unfortunate volume of pompous garbage with it. De Cancho's and Pethybridge's pieces had some merits and with a better dancer Crow's work could actually be quite strong but ultimately Chaturvedi came along and showed everyone how it's done.

Every Good Boy Deserves Favour

I wasn't planning on making a habit of seeing first previews but I seem to have managed two in under a week. "Every Good Boy Deserves Favour" should be a logistical nightmare, the kind of show that requires previews, yet to all intents and purposes it's in far better shape than "Complicit" was at it's first performance. A symphonic orchestra supporting a play by Tom Stoppard, I could almost cry with joy. It's not his greatest play, but an electrifying sixty-five minutes it most definitely is.

Written some time ago, the piece still resonates today owing mostly to the fact that little has changed. What's most effecting is it might not just be the Russians anymore (As "Complicit" was at pains to point out). Stoppard's conceit of a disturbed individual who believes he has an orchestra in his head feels at times more of a means to an end than truly necessary, but not quite to the point things start feeling contrived. Regardless, this is a play with a serious point and Stoppard makes it in his inimitable style, blending serious laughs with very intelligent, philosophical dialogue (often at the same time) Previn's music gives the show a soaring filmic feel but his music leans towards the schmaltzy. To add to this, the creative team have taken the piece off the page and produced an impressively visual, constantly engaging show.

The bare designs, a sharp angular corridor driven through the orchestra (the Southbank Sinfonia) laid out across the stage lit by piercing white light, are fantastically evocative, open yet somehow extremely claustrophobic. The sudden very physical dance work (intriguingly most of the dancers seem to have come from the equally original PunchDrunk and their "Masque of the Red Death") comes out of nowhere and effectively notches the tension up. The performances are pretty stunning across the board. Toby Jones makes for a very appealing Ivanov (the actually mad inmate), balancing the child like buoyancy with an almost sorrowful air. Joseph Millson takes the other major role, the difficult part of the imprisoned political dissident. He held the audience in the palm of his hand from the very beginning and the complex alphabet speech carried searing power. Dan Steven's conflicted doctor was constantly amusing and little imagination was required to believe in Bryony Hannah's careful performances as a small boy.

An interesting play that is weighed down by it's own intelligence but ultimately has enough heart to rise above mere intellectual interest. Novel in conception, this production takes the interesting ideas and gives them a very elegant spin. Fine performances all round make this an evening of serious merit. For practical reasons it's a piece that's unlikely to get another revival in quite sometime and even if it did, I can't imagine it could be done any better. Worth seeing.

Complicit

I just ventured to the first preview of "Complicit", a new play by Joe Sutton. I wouldn't usually attend so early in a run but the whole University thing kicks in pretty soon so this was the only date I could make. As a result it's only fair to consider the production a work in progress. That said, production wise, nothing seemed too far from completion. The designs are effective, the lighting particularly, and no technical faults slipped in. Apart from a couple of late entries the performers all gave decent performances. What won't change (or not a lot) before opening night is the play itself, and I'm afraid to say it's something of a turkey.

Another Joe, Joe Penhall, wrote a play called "Landscape with Weapon" not all that long ago. It wasn't perfect but it covered very similar ground and intellectually it had more content in the first scene than this entire play. The same could be said of the recent "Gethsemane". Another flawed piece that had more to say about journalistic ethics in one brief scene than the two hours of this. Sutton sets up his play to deal with huge issues (not terribly original ones as the above two examples show but big never the less). Issues that could entirely change how we view our own society. It's truly remarkable then that he's managed to make it so boring (especially with the impressive production and cast). The problem is two fold (actually it's many fold but I don't have all night to write this). Firstly he entirely fails to create three-dimensional characters. It's a three hander but two of the characters merely serve to give the third opportunities for monologues. The wife figure just asks "why?" or "how so?" repeatedly and the lawyer manages even less offering more of a "what happened?" line of questioning. The monologues of the central character are scarcely better written, consisting mostly of long periods of naval gazing turmoil followed by blunt exposition of the "information dump" variety. The second problem is that in order to generate drama, Sutton only slowly reveals what exactly the main character is in trouble for. Whilst this might pass for clever dick theatre writing in some circles, what it actually means is that I struggled to really work out what exactly Sutton was aiming for and any emotional impact suffers as a result. The play lacks a cohesive conclusion mostly because the previous two hours are so elliptical. I was flabbergasted by the final moment which comes out of nowhere in the very worst way. I'm not sure it's been entirely thought through and I'd be amazed if it's still there in this form by the opening night. On a side note, telephone conversations are inherently un-theatrical and about half this play has characters speaking to each other on the phone (top marks to Kevin Spacey for a neat directorial shift away from the phones to make things marginally more interesting but even that doesn't sustain). The opening of Act II is the worst example of this when the wife figure pours her heart out over the phone to unseen characters, a dreadful exposition tool.

The cast do their level best to make this work but it doesn't. Richard Dreyfuss comes out the best although that's partly as he has the only character of any real substance. He carefully handles his character's crumbling defiance but comes a cropper in the final scene when the script calls for him to become a stroppy toddler. Never has the word "bad" been uttered so many times and to so little effect. For a first preview though, a remarkable performance although I don't see a great deal of room for growth as the script is the hindrance not the actor. David Suchet is a marvellous actor but beyond a decent accent he doesn't have any opportunity to shine here. The only memorable aspect of his character is that he swears like a sailor (again to very little impact). Elizabeth McGovern might well have not shown up for all the script gives her. Lovely clear diction though.

Spacey has produced a slick production with really neat designs (especially the televisions in the floor) and superb lighting. The cast do their level best to make things work but it all amounts to pretty wall paper on a crumbling wall that's suffering a serious case of mould and a side order of damp. Neither dramatically effective nor intellectually thought provoking this amounts to little more than a question/answer session where the audience aren't told the topic. Neither particularly bleak nor in any way humorous, ultimately it's just dull. This was the first preview and theoretically everything could change, but unless Spacey actually rewrites the play personally I don't see even his magic hands saving this one. An early runner for the "Fram" of 2009.

Turandot (Royal Opera, Cast B)

The Royal Opera have put together two stunning casts for the latest revival of their classic "Turandot" but the second has something of an edge (my review of cast A being here). It might also be the heaviest cast I've ever seen. When Willard White is about the skinniest principal you've got to worry a little. With Johan Botha and Jennifer Wilson the vocal power is evident, but the two embracing amounts to one of the most cringeworthy things I've seen on stage all year.

Botha has the lower notes locked and he commands the stage brilliantly but the full range was not quite so secure and his "Nessun Dorma" rather fizzled out as he reached for the high notes. He's not the finest actor either, standing and delivering most arias with the odd raise of the eyebrows. Wilson has it all. Piercing upper register and dramatic, powerful lower, it was tour de force of fine singing throughout. Her acting also nailed the aloof ice queen, thawing out impeccably at the works conclusion. She also expertly broke the fourth wall whilst staying in character to glare (I might be giving her too much credit here) at the absolute oaf whose phone went off during the trial scene (who then had the audacity to fumble it in his hands so it rang a good four or five times). Despite the performance of Wilson, it was Latonia Moore, in her house debut, who stole the show as Liu. A combination of her incredibly warm voice and impassioned musicality simply radiated through the building. White produced marvels too in the role of Timur managing to appear old and frail despite having a voice of some potency. The smaller roles were filled by the same singers as the first cast. The three ministers still failed to really grip although Giorgio Caoduro sounded in better shape than he had at opening night. Kostas Smoriginas kicked the show off solidly with a neatly sung Mandarin.

An entirely magnificent performance. Botha's Calef didn't quite hit the high mark of José Cura but otherwise this cast had a comfortable edge over the already very impressive first cast. Wilson made for a superb Turandot and the supporting players of Moore and White impeccable. A ravishing account of the score from the Royal Opera orchestra under Nicola Luisotti added to the spectacular staging making for a simply brilliant evening at the opera.

The Nutcracker (Royal Ballet)

Thanks to a glorious bit of timing, I waltzed out of the ENB's "Manon" and pottered down the road to Covent Garden to take in a "Nutcracker" with a mere thirty minute pause between the two. My second and probably my last of the season (maybe even for two years if the Royal are kind enough to give us a "Cinderella" next year), it's a production that offers a level of joy that's hard to beat even when some of the dancing isn't quite as strong as it should be.

Caroline Duprot made for a lovely Clara. It was rather a mature interpretation of the role but she appeared to actually be enjoying herself and it rubbed off on me. Even the iffy Chinese dance benefited from her radiant smiles. Sergei Polunin gave the impression of a more youthful Nutcracker which brought the pair more into line with each other in age, it felt a little different but it didn't overall affect the piece much. His partnering was off in the pas de deux of Act I but it was an otherwise strong performance. Gary Avis did the near impossible and actually had an impact as Dr Stahlbaum. I'm not sure how he does this sort of thing but even in tiny insignificant parts he always finds something compelling to do. Kenta Kura made for a sharply drawn Soldier, Brian Maloney was less strong as Harlequin. Act II's divertissements were better danced than at my last visit. The Spanish dance delivered with much more attack and the Mirlitons rather more accurate and together. Laura McCulloch is made for the Rose Fairy, giving another superb performance. The Sugar Plum Fairy and Escort started strongly but didn't sustain. Yuhui Choe was fairly stunning throughout but Viacheslav Samodurov appeared extremely strained by the whole affair. His face suggested pain and several lifts came only with enormous hefts. I don't know if he was feeling tired or is suffering under an injury but all did not appear well. His lower body was secure but the partnering and lifting seemed a real challenge (which isn't like him at all).

Every performance is going to have it's issues but few shows are so consistently brilliant as this. It's a finely oiled machine that still feels fresh at every performance.

Manon (English National Ballet)

"Manon" is a ballet I love, but it's far from a guarantee of a good evening. In the hands of a great company (the Royal Ballet mostly) it can be beautiful. Manhandled by a bad one (Vienna State fumbled this one) and it's a fairly slow evening. The performance I saw from the English National Ballet was neither really. Very well danced in places, downright superb in a couple of cases, but not entirely satisfactory emotionally. They've borrowed the production from another company, and it's a disappointingly grey, murky staging (literally).

The sets are practical, tourable ones but on the vast coliseum stage they end up looking a bit bare. On the whole this doesn't take too much away from the show although some atmosphere is lost but the final scene in the swamps suffers massively. The ghostly apparitions aren't so ghostly without the elaborate drapes. Most of the costumes are a grey affair with the odd hint of colour which works fine but the Harlots of Act II are dressed in a truly hidious colour palette (totally incongruous to the rest of the production). Imagine marshmallows selling sex and that's pretty much what is on stage here. The creative lighting makes up for a good deal of the relatively low production values elsewhere but with the exception of the start of Act III, which nails the seedy, imposing New World (Pretty front cloth as well which oozes squalor), this is very much a poor man's "Manon" relative to the production down the road.

What matters ultimately though is the dancing and this was much better than I expected (especially considering the dreary performance of theirs I caught in Oxford not long ago). Begoña Cao debuting in the title role made a real effort to capture MacMillan's style but missed a good deal of the emotion. The conflicting emotions of Manon were largely missing. Her desperation to survive pushes her from the man she loves but Cao's shift seemed to come purely from her love of a fancy coat and it made a mockery of the captivatingly delivered bedroom pas de deux that had just passed. What she did manage was to simply exude sex appeal which works at least on a surface level. Her Des Grieux was Esteban Berlanga, a young dancer, who on the basis of this showing has a big future. His partnering was a little scrappy in places and overall he was a little princely for the role but he nailed the very taxing opening solo and barely put a foot wrong throughout. As a partnership they had some absolutely lovely moments, the final scene triumphing despite the problems earlier on in the piece. Zhanat Atymtayev was a late replacement as Lescaut and he started very strongly displaying an extremely solid technique and the sort of edgy excitement that drew my eye to him. He entirely failed at the humorous drunk solo of Act II, appearing far too much like a strong dancer deliberately falling over, but shifted right back to strength as things turn nasty. Overall top honours must go to Jenna Lee's saucy Mistress, precisely working her way through her steps whilst demonstrating a real grip on the character. Whilst most of the pure dance was very strong the character acting was either massively overblown or meekly done in the background. Antony Dowson makes for an almost nonexistent GM. He should be a nasty piece of work, the central villain of the piece, but it wasn't till he shot a major character that I really took note of him. Fabian Reimair offered quite the opposite as the Gaoler, a one note, extreme creep. Some blame must be laid on the restricting costume and thick make-up which leave little room for expression, but it was still a one dimensional performance.

Things didn't quite come together but nor did they fall apart. I don't think I've ever seen the English National Ballet corps dance so strongly, I'd go as far as to say sections were danced far more accurately than the Royal managed in their last revival. The orchestra were sounding in good form under Timothy Carey, it isn't the finest score but it works. None of the leads was entirely on top of their characters but nor did anyone fail to fit within the spirit of the piece. Tidy dancing but little emotion. A middling "Manon".

Zorro - The Musical

Maybe all mindlessly entertaining musicals are built upon incredibly bizarre ideas (Just look at "Blonde" and "Rings"). "Zorro" sounds daft on paper, often looked daft on stage and was an absolute hoot from start to finish. Mixing authentic flamenco, incredible sword fights, lots of swinging on ropes, a heavy dose of magic, an exuberant score (ostensibly by the Gipsy Kings) and a propensity towards setting fire to everything, somehow this formed into a stunningly entertaining piece of theatre. High art this ain't but a fantastic evening it is.

Imagine "Peter Pan" reimagined for adults and that's about right. A little bit panto but sufficiently knowing that it really doesn't matter. The set is tremendously adaptable, each scene conjured from the large amphitheatre design and copious heavy drapes. The costumes are delightfully detailed, disneyish creations entirely in keeping with the rest of the production. Special mention must go to the wigs, several of which seemed to have lives entirely of their own. The production values are extremely high throughout from the flaming Z at the very start of the show to the massive entry of Zorro across the auditorium at the end. For no particular reason beyond adding to the spectacle there are a series of magical disappearances one of which I still can't work out. The sword work is some of the most impressive I've ever seen live and whilst most is clearly done by stuntmen, having a masked hero has real advantages (with the magic as well), but the final duel is unmasked and both Matt Rawle and Adam Levy are just as capable fighting as they are singing. 

The music is headlined by a few Gipsy Kings songs but it's John Cameron who has written the majority of the narrative numbers. This pairing of big, relatively authentic latin music with more West End like ballads doesn't sit entirely comfortably but it just about works. Whilst tracks like "Bamboleo" and "Djobi Djoba" are guaranteed crowd pleasers, Cameron has done a decent job of providing a few, almost hum-able, new songs such as "Hope". The dance that's attached to the music is superbly done and well judged in its use. A huge number of the supporting company are flamenco dancers by training and it shows. The major stars aren't quite so capable but no one totally comes a cropper.

The cast are a charming bunch. Matt Rawle's Zorro is well pitched, an Errol Flynn role delivered with a knowing wink. He's got a fine voice and he handles himself around the stage impeccably. Emma Williams (who seems to turn up in daft musicals) looks entirely out of place in this latin world, her perfect skin the model of an English rose, and nor is her style well suited to the Gipsy Kings songs, but when it comes to the traditional narrative numbers she has one of the best voices currently floating around the West End. She a very decent dancer on top of that. Lesli Margherita is a huge find. A star through and through, she has a sort of animal magnetism that kept me transfixed and she's a complete package with impressive vocals, solid acting and captivating dance moves. More from her please. Adam Levy's Ramon is a suitable nasty piece of work and Nick Cavaliere provides able comic support as the hopeless Garcia.

"Zorro" has everything going for it. A very impressive cast and a production that include everything but the kitchen sink. This won't change the world but it's a diverting three hours and does so with tremendous style. Silly in conception and pretty silly on stage, but a thrill ride you won't soon forget.