Doctor Atomic (English National Opera)

John Adams's latest opera "Dr Atomic" might well have the least compelling opening lines of any opera I've ever come across. In fact, much of the libretto is far too clever for it's own good, riddled with high-culture excerpts that might mean a lot to those in the know, but just seem obtuse to the rest of us who don't have a deep knowledge of the "Bhagavad Gita" (of which I am definitely one) and other such texts. That said, whilst Peter Sellars might not be the finest librettist, Adams is, to my mind, the finest opera composer living.

Adams could compose a setting for the phone book and it would no doubt be amazingly compelling. He works his magic here on a libretto that fluctuates between attractive lyrical poetry and dry physic's textbook.  That said, the libretto carries some longueurs that even Adams' music fails to cover, notably an Act II section in which five of the major protagonists stand across the stage and do little for what seems like an age. Indeed, precious little happens at all across the entire three plus hours of the opera although this is a work more about ideas than events. Despite the turgid libretto, Adams' music conjures several of the finest sequences in any show I can remember. "Batter My Heart" is an air of such quality that it could (and I dearly hope will) happily sit in the annals of great operatic numbers. Much of Kitty's music is both wondrously musical and enchantingly effecting. The final twenty minutes conjure tension the like of which I'll struggle to forget. The tension reaches such fever pitch that the inevitable explosion struggles to live up to the preceding music. The concluding Japanese voice over is deeply moving and then I suppose it was the audience who provided the real explosion. Leaving the theatre even the overblown physics chatter that pervades the piece couldn't prevent me feeling this opera is something special.

Penny Woolcock's production succeeds at setting the scene but fails to truly transport. The vertical grid of boxes was sometimes cleverly used but the technically impressive projections fail to cover a lack of imagination. The square boxes of light around props (such as beds and desks) ended up looking oddly amateurish whilst the white sheets at the back just look cheap once they are lit fully (especially, and crucially, during the big finale). The staging also struggles to manage the long rather static passages that the libretto introduces. No amount of smoking (and boy do they do a lot of smoking) and pacing up and down can maintain interest throughout and my attention quickly shifted to the music (which I suppose some would say is a good thing). It's hardly a poor production, nothing impedes the work reaching its conclusion, but it doesn't offer much of real interest either.

The casting is pretty much flawless. Gerald Finley has owned this role since the premiere of the opera in 2005 and I can't imagine a finer performance. Finley has starred in an eclectic series of roles in London recently and this is yet another stunner to add to the list. The role doesn't sound a particularly difficult one vocally but that might just be a result of his marvellously potent baritone and confident delivery. His diction was impeccable (as was that of most of the cast) and his acting unsurpassed. In the pantheon of great performances, Finley's Oppenheimer ranks high. He's well matched by the gravitas of Brindley Sherratt in the rather stern role of Edward Teller and blended beautifully with Sasha Cooke (an American import of merit unlike those flown in for the ENO's recent "Bohème"). Cooke is an attractive presence lending a welcome heart to the rather testosterone driven conflicts elsewhere. Thomas Glenn has a lovely light voice and nailed the youthful turmoil of his role. Jonathan Veira provides experienced support as the outwardly aggressive, inwardly flawed General whilst Meredith Arwady delivers the lovely contralto role of Pasqualita.

This is a deeply flawed work but one that stands head and shoulders above almost all contemporary opera I've come across. Birtwistle shockers (such as the decent "Minotaur") are barely comparable. Adams creates huge amounts of drama out of even this most stodgy of librettos, his music stirringly played by the English National Opera orchestra under Lawrence Renes. "Batter My Heart" is worth the price of entry alone and all the longueurs are repaid in the terse, powerful finale. The work deserves a bolder production but I cannot imagine a finer cast than this, headed by the incomparable Finley. A must see and maybe even a must see twice (which I'll be doing).

Into the Little Hill/Down By The Greenwood Side

Where "Spring Awakening" had an audience of welcome youth, this opera double bill was an anorak evening if ever I've seen one. That's not entirely surprisingly but more than a little disappointing. The performance however, was anything but disappointing. "Down By The Greenwood Side" maybe not quite be on a level with other Birtwistle masterpieces (it's very similar to "Punch and Judy" without ever reaching the brilliance of that work) but it's a fascinating piece. "Into the Little Hill" won't be to all tastes but it's a startling new adaptation of a well worn tale.

The Birtwistle that started the evening off is a slightly confusing mix of Mummers' play with a ballad about "The Cruel Mother". The connection between these two parallel stories largely eludes me and only at the conclusion does Michael Nymans libretto attempt to unite the two. The new production attempts a sort of unification by updating the setting to a modern day environment with homeless people telling stories amongst themselves. The clever ring design (used in both pieces) is effectively used to conjure a sort of circus ring in which the actors play. Whilst the meaning of the text is somewhat difficult to appreciate, the sheer theatricality of the whole thing is hard to fault. Birtwistle knows how to build tension and heighten emotions; it's hard not to be moved by the brutal conclusion that somehow feels far too real. Claire Booth takes the only singing role and sings with real emotion, the sadness that runs through her tale almost too effectively evoked. The remaining cast are all actors who speak against the music, a wonderfully directed moment occurs when the conductor is forced into a disagreement with them, and Pip Donaghy's malevolent Father Christmas was a treat. Beyond the shock and awe value it's difficult to rate this as an operatic work but I left mildly traumatised which can only be a good thing.

"Into the Little Hill" arrives with a phenomenal volume hype such that it was almost impossible for it to truly live up to the advance press. Quite incredibly it almost does. The new staging is relatively sparse but excitingly visual. The ring from "Greenwood" upended to appear like a pipe, vague projections of the libretto sprayed across it. The two singers both portray narrators who slip in and out of the action, this limits real drama (and the staging doesn't help in this respect) but creates a strong narrative drive that largely makes up for the distancing effect of the style. Indeed, much praise must go to Martin Crimp for the extremely taut, efficient libretto which is one of the best I've ever come across in awhile. George Benjamin's score doesn't dominate proceedings as you might expect, he leaves the vocal lines to soar over the orchestra and it works a treat. The soundscape created is delicate next to the blast of Birtwistle but no less arresting. The two roles are vocally taxing but Susan Bickley came through strongly, her robust but pleasant mezzo embodying the whole range of characters. Claire Booth struggle with the range, several high passages failing to make an appearance at all, but despite the obvious problems she kept her cool and got through her part largely unscathed.

A marvellous double bill. The older Birtwistle piece fully deserves this revival, a visceral work that cannot fail to make an impact. Benjamin's new opera is stunning. An efficient retelling of a classic tale with a modern twist. The bill is now touring the country (including to Oxford this weekend so I might catch it again) and if it arrives anywhere near you, you'd be mad to miss it. A more effecting evening I can't remember.

Shun-kin

A new work from Simon McBurney and Complicite is always a bit different. In that respect "Shun-kin" is par for the course. It's a beautifully staged, enigmatic work that raises many ideas without ever really resolving any of them. This beauty comes at a price however, the slow, luxurious progression of the narrative saps much of the drama from the work. Somehow McBurney makes this tragic tale dull.

Told through a series of conflicting angles. A modern day narrator (a woefully underdeveloped subplot) telling the tale of an author piecing together the "history" of a vile character called Shun-kin. Shun-kin herself is an enigmatic figure developing from a small puppet, through several larger puppets (including just an arm at one point) to one of the great theatrical coups of the evening when she becomes an actress. The puppet work is brilliant (Blind Summit Theatre are behind them) bringing this unpleasant character to life but as with all the other neat tricks in this piece, style fails to overcome pacing issues. Stylish it might be, the paper birds are a wonderful bit of stagecraft, but dramatic it really isn't. What is more, at times the style almost destroys the substance. The conclusion as the actors walk out into the "real world" beyond looks incredible but it's an easy cop out that amounts to very little.

The cast are a dependable bunch of Japanese actors but much is lost in translation. The text lacks tension and the languorous pace prevents things really gripping. Clever, typical Complicite, effects prevent the evening being a total right off but it isn't a terribly good one either. For every moment of interest there's endless talking and whilst I'm sure there is much of merit in this work, it's almost impossible to find it.

Spring Awakening

I caught "Spring Awakening" in New York last year and was seriously impressed. Now it has arrived on these shores with a cast of unbelievably young and almost obnoxiously talented Brits and I'd hazard it's even better. It's still far from a flawless show but amongst the recent crop of musicals, "Spring Awakening" sits comfortably at the top of the pile.

Little has changed production-wise with the move to London and that's a good thing (although none of my original criticisms have much changed). The set has a bare, honest feel to it. A small number of audience members are positioned on stage and the characters emerge and retreat from these benches, it's a slick and effective trick. The overtly theatrical trappings, with very visible microphones and onstage band, work superbly to add to the terrific air of authenticity. The choreography is paired back but the almost religious, repeated arm actions that run through the piece work wonderfully and build to a climax during the brilliant "Totally F***ed". The songbook is hampered by some slightly iffy lyrics (mostly fine but with some odd angsty lines that you'd think could only come from a masochistic teenager) but it's riddled with hits and there isn't a total dud in the show. Only the finale really disappoints with a desperate slide from the saddening close of the story (where the piece should end) to a silly sentimental number. The big flaw in the piece for me is in the portrayal of the adults. All the children are portrayed as angsty, misunderstood people, the adults (all conjured by two actors) are misguided, hopeless and one-dimensional (the teachers downright villainous). Little consideration is given to why the adults might act as they do. It doesn't sink the piece by any means but it's disappointing.

The cast are fairly brilliant although not all are superb singers. Charlotte Wakefield is really quite a find. Her voice has a pure, velvety quality of almost incomparable sweetness. She can act too, there's no dancing required so it's hard to tell if she's the complete package yet but considering her age (as with much of the cast, this is her professional debut) I look forward to much more from her. Aneurin Barnard doesn't quite come up to the mark as the male lead Melchior, he sings with attractive tone but fails to hit the right notes every time and didn't always have the volume (despite the excessive volume enhancement given to the entire cast). Iwan Rheon wasn't a particularly exciting Moritz, lacking the manic energy that makes his music work, but he sang accurately and was never less than watchable. Edd Judge caught the eye and ear with his richly sung Otto, and Jamie Blackley was hysterical as the egotist Hanschen. The two "adults", Richard Cordery and Sian Thomas, work very hard throughout the evening but the parts never amount to much as every character they take on is so crudely painted.

I like this musical. If the slightly patronising mainstream critics are to be believed, I suppose I'm target market (slightly older perhaps) but that is a pointless conjecture. There's something in this piece for everyone, if nothing else it's consistently funny and ultimately emotionally moving. The pre-West End try-out at the Hammersmith Lyric is a superb idea. Ticket prices are low and this was reflected heavily in the audience mean age which was probably twenty years lower than at any of the West End venues. A transfer seems inevitable and totally deserving. More fun than most musicals and not entirely air-headed either.

The Convict's Opera

"The Beggar's Opera" looms again. After the torrid debacle of the Royal Opera's "Beggar" last week, if this wasn't good I feared I'd be giving all future adaptations of this eighteenth century work a wide berth. As it happens this new version, set on a convict's ship to Australia, has a good deal going for it, although it still fails to really make the case for John Gay's ballad opera truly having much to say about contemporary society.

Unlike the fairly po-faced Britten version, Stephen Jefferys knows when not to take things too seriously. The original tunes are blended with a healthy mix of pop classics delivered in an entertaining quasi-classical manner. The new addition, a parallel narrative to Gay's opera, is fantastic but rather undernourished. The newly introduced idea that drama liberates the prisoners is half baked at best (and contradictory when you consider the only reason they are allowed to perform is because of the belief that it will keep them under control). The evening clocks in at more than two and a half hours but oddly I felt like neither half of the play was complete. That's not to say I wanted the piece longer, Gay's dialogue reads like a bad Shakespeare imitation, but the balance between the two sides was not overly well handled. Moments veered towards the slapstick and more than once I was dangerously reminded of the Reduced Shakespeare Company's work, but what saved the piece was the enormously endearing cast.

A talented bunch of ten who played all the instruments and sang their hearts out. It seems unfair to pick individuals out of this superb company but a few did manage to stand out. Ali McGregor has a superb set of pipes, delightfully powering out the contrasting airs and managing to act as well (something the Royal Opera entirely failed at). The MacHeath of Juan Jackson was suitably macho (the audible swoons from the female population when he took far too many of his clothes was testament to that) but he too possesses a lovely, velvety voice. The shaggy haired Brian Protheroe (last seen trying to take over Middle Earth) came the closest to making Gay's dialogue work with a charismatic performance as Peachum (the Jefferys half was much easier on the ear).

Ultimately I'm not sure what the point of reviving "The Beggar's Opera" now is. This was quite good fun but a great deal of that fun stemmed from the clever adaptation (albeit unbalanced) and witty song insertions, plus a buoyant cast that could have lifted almost any material. I haven't entirely written off the original work but a mirror to society this most definitely wasn't. I'd recommend this as a reasonable night out, but as an argument for the original work, it isn't up to scratch.

Die Tote Stadt (Royal Opera)

The snowy weather of last week had a mixed effect (I like snow, I dislike having my tickets cancelled) including delaying my trip to Korngold's "Die Tote Stadt" by more than a week. It wasn't something I was going to miss however, effectively a new work to these shores, and I eventually managed to catch it yesterday. In the now extremely well travelled Willy Decker production, "Die Tote Stadt" is a thrillingly theatrical piece with some fantastic passages but it never really amounts to anything. Beautiful and never less than dull but overburdened with ideas that don't entirely come together.

The production looks great. Over the course of this crazy opera Decker leads us through a grotesquely beautiful world filled with creepy figures and dazzling theatrical trickery. The sudden appearance of a second, smaller but identical, room behind the first, a part of Paul's dream that soon merges with his reality, is a marvellous moment. The floating buildings, as if washed away in the canals of Bruges, bordered on the silly but the meticulous lighting gave them a foreboding edge, the arrival of Frank upon one shouldn't have worked but the consistency with which Decker presents his world gives every image an impact. Decker makes little effort to evoke the town of Bruges but then neither does Korngold, this is a dream world and anything goes.

What doesn't work, is anything emotional. Bizarre and beautiful but so terribly distant, making connections with the characters is near impossible. The dream structure isn't an ideal one, strangely convoluted (Decker's production is perhaps partly to blame) and the final twist too abrupt for clean resolution. Korngold doesn't really help here either. His music is endlessly attractive and offers a brilliant synthesis of the then dying operatic period of the early twentieth century but it's too fragmentary for its own good. Like a Romantic sugar rush with a heady dose of chromaticism, the piece is almost one continuous climax, the complex psychological ideas feeling almost like an afterthought beneath the waves of enchanting music. The part of Paul is a nightmare one, Stephen Gould making a decent fist of it, but not for any good reason. The vocal lines leap to top notes for no particular reason with alarming regularity. Little is played quietly, the dense orchestration and mammoth arias leaving no room for the story or characters to breathe.

Gould can sound absolutely radiant at times but this part was a real stretch. It's a near unsingable part however with absurd forte notes slung about all over the place and I can't imagine many managing better. He can act too although few sparks really flew between him and his dual lover of Marie/Marietta. Nadja Michael, as the lovers, doesn't so much sound stretched as rather threadbare throughout. With the exception of a few crystal clear, ringing notes nothing sounded particularly lovely. Not nearly sexy enough initially, her chemistry with Gould didn't really kick in till Act II when her crazed, manic energy really soared (Recalling her Salome not so long ago). Not a bad performance but she lacks consistent tone in the higher reaches of her voice, and the most famous aria in the piece "Marietta's lied" sank because of this. Gerald Finley is almost worth the price of entry with his superbly nuanced Frank, a small part that he made a great deal of. He was double cast as the Pierrot and offered nothing less than brilliance here too, "Mein sehnen, mein wähnen" was perfectly delivered, conjuring much of the emotion that lacked elsewhere. Notable also was Kathleen Wilkinson, whose dignified and accurate singing managed to overcome the worst bit of staging in the evening, a moment she is towed across the stage on a gigantic cross.

I left impressed but totally unmoved. There's much to enjoy; the wonderful music (the Royal Opera orchestra on great form under Ingo Metzmacher), consummate singing and a slick, imaginative production, but it fails to come together as a drama. Willy Decker can conjure a great image but like the music it's too much flash and not enough substance (or clarity, depending on how charitable you're feeling). With repeat viewings more might become clear but I can't imagine I'll get the opportunity and sadly a work like this will live and die by its first impression. Ravishing, spectacular and never dull but emotionally barren.

La Bohème (English National Opera)

The English National Opera's much awaited new "La Bohème" finally opened this evening after the aborted kick off on Monday. With Jonathan Miller directing, hopes were high that this would be another of his vintage productions that could be revived countless times over the next thirty years. After tonight's performance I'm not quite so sure. Despite the updating to the 1930s, it's a pretty conventional production that whilst not world changing, largely works. What didn't work was the casting which could be described as mediocre at a push.

Miller's big directorial idea is the re-setting of the piece in the later time period. Beyond different period costumes and sets little actually differs from either the traditional Copley or Zeffirelli productions (my reviews of them are here and here respectively). The new translation is narratively effective but too many extra syllables have been introduced and it ruins the vocal lines in a few places. The multi-level set is attractive enough and meticulously detailed (although not perhaps quite as the Copley production which took meticulous to the extreme) but it doesn't have a great deal of character. The colour palette is so unremittingly pallid throughout that it was difficult not to wish for some variation. The staging was entirely unremarkable, a little cramped and at times overly stagey but it all pretty much slotted together. The tableaux at the start of Act II looked lovely but the principals got lost in the crowd which wasn't ideal. As you can probably tell, I'm at a loss as to what was actually interesting about this production, the cafe looked like a cafe and the flat looked like a flat. That's probably a good thing, a modern interpretation of "Bohème" would be a difficult thing to pull off, but it's hard to see the genius that managed to produce the superb "Barber of Seville" production that has stayed in the repertory ever since (and revived earlier this year).

Whilst the staying power of the production is difficult to gauge at this point, what isn't is the quality of the cast and overall this lot get a big thumbs down. Alfie Boe has a lovely sounding voice but has nothing like the vocal heft required of the part. "Che gelida manina" just vanished into the orchestra. Give him a few years and I suspect he'll mature into a very impressive singer, but he's not there yet and this is way too much too soon. The same cannot be said of Melody Moore who was so woefully off the pace one questions how she was ever employed. Wavering pitch, downright unpleasant tone and leaden acting made this a performance with few positives (she's far too bulky for the role as well). Hana Alattar has the notes but not the vibrancy to make Musetta work. Her waltz carried zero sex appeal (partly a production flaw, with very limited movement involved) and there wasn't a spark between her and Roland Wood all night. Wood was the strongest of the four principal singers but that wasn't terribly difficult. Whilst he didn't excite me, he sang with dignity and made a decent fist of acting the role as well. The supporting players of David Stout and Pauls Putnins performed well, Putnins ode to his coat possibly the most affecting moment of the evening (which is a shocking indictment on the rest of the evening).

With a different cast this production might well work. It's a risk free venture with little to irritate and little to inspire. Clean, tidy and attractive. The same cannot be said of the cast, which for such a massive opening at the second premiere opera company in Britain simply isn't good enough. The orchestra weren't in quite the shape they managed only a few days ago in the "Magic Flute" but Miguel Harth-Bedoya captured the spirit of the music with some lovely swells and contrasts. I cannot conceive of a situation where this won't get revived a few times and I look forward to it with better casting. Vintage Miller? Maybe not, but despite what amounts to a pretty dull evening, it's too early to write the production off altogether.

The Magic Flute (English National Opera)

The English National Opera considered ditching this old warhorse of a production at its last revival but that would have been a seriously silly thing to do. Whilst I don't think it's the finest "Flute", the ENO simply don't have enough good staple productions in their repertory and this is one of the few they do have. This revival is well enough cast although only Roderick William's Papageno really created something special.

Nick Hytner's production is gloriously entertaining but rather shallow. The Queen is a completely evil character and Sarastro a kindly gentleman who epitomises good. This black and white morality works on a surface level but there's so much more to this piece. The human aspects of the piece are more intelligently dealt with and despite some pantomimic qualities, the three-dimensional characters largely prevent the evening actually becoming one. It's an attractive production, with clean, tidy sets that support the action without distracting. I can't say I entirely agree with the burnt bird cages at the Queen's first appearance, it undercuts the idea that she initially appears to be on the side of good, which is true even in a morally unambiguous production as this, but overall the designs are thoughtfully done albeit simplistic. Hytner goes for comedy above everything else and Jeremy Sams translation ably supports him in this. This is possibly the only production I've ever come across that pulls off the dialogue almost as ably as the arias. Sams plays fairly fast and loose in his translation but it all works towards a far more cohesive piece than is often the case.

The cast are more than competent but often uninspiring. Robert Murray is a fairly robust Tamino and his diction was impressive but he failed to really enthuse me, going through all the right motions but never really stamping himself on the role. Mairead Buick replaced the scheduled Pamina and produced an assured performance (especially on debut), her voice richly toned. Her acting however was pretty dismal, the only singer who missed the point of the wonderful dialogue (in this translation) and merely sang the airs. Robert Lloyd is fantastic casting as Sarastro, a man who you can completely believe is worldly and wise. He doesn't always project the words terribly well but he produces such a wealth of sound that such complaints are minor issues. Things looked bad for Emily Hindrichs after a distinctly iffy "O zittre nicht", with heavy vibrato and a crowning cracked note, but by some miracle when the toughie that is "Der Hölle Rache" came up she more or less nailed the notes. It wasn't the most natural and easy performance but she made it through. Stuart Kale's Monostatos felt a little too pantomime for my taste but he sang nicely enough and with enthusiastic venom. Graeme Danby's Speaker was a model of fine singing, weighty and delivered with just the right about of severity. Williams sits in an altogether different league to the rest of the cast. His impeccable comic timing and intelligent acting almost distract from the fact that his singing is flawless as well. Burnished tones and incredible diction brought the part fully to life. An amazing performance by any standards.

It's not a production I find particularly effecting but the ENO would be foolish to ditch such a solid and accessible production when they have so few available. Between the doves, bears and witty dialogue it's pretty hard not to enjoy yourself. The orchestra were in stunning shape under Erik Nielsen, I don't think I've heard this played with greater finesse than at this performance (and I heard the Vienna State play this only a couple of months ago). The performances were largely solid across the board although only Williams achieved brilliance. A very enjoyable if largely unrewarding "Magic Flute".

Royal Ballet Triple Bill (7 Deadly/Carmen/DGV)

This was a bill I'd both been tremendously looking forward to and slightly dreading. I liked "DGV" when it was premiered and thought in many respects it had come off badly as a result of being juxtaposed to "Chroma" (another premiere on the same bill). "Seven Deadly Sins" on the other hand I thought something of a turkey at its premiere. On both these counts my opinions haven't changed much. Mats Ek's "Carmen" was an unknown quantity for me and certainly provided a variation on the norm.

"Seven Deadly Sins" kicks off with a fantastic image but nothing of what follows comes close to comparing. The Kurt Weill score was well served by the orchestra and whilst Martha Wainwright was stretched by the part, she managed to get most of the words across (with amplification) and imparted a good deal of emotion. The barbershop quartet was less impressive, almost no words made it to my ears and this undercut the piece somewhat. What good comes of the score doesn't however impact the choreography, by Will Tuckett, which is both repetitive and rather characterless. Tuckett attempts to do so much, in too small a space of time that it all becomes rather vague and ultimately rather dull. Kirsten McNally (on debut in the role, and also effectively debuting as a major dancer for the company) seized the part and danced impeccably but to little effect (mostly the steps fault rather than hers). Her small frame (especially next to Wainwright) gave her a diminutive air that doesn't suit the role and somehow she just came across as too squeaky clean to be let loose in such a gritty world. Lots of other impressive dancers were on stage but few were given the opportunity to do much. Laura Morera was an almost too believable Stripper and Gary Avis and Christopher Saunders made a grotesquely nasty pair but none get beyond one note characters because they aren't given the steps to do so. Tuckett's choreography just never amounts to much and beyond a decent interpretation of the Weill score, there's little here to hold attention.

Mats Ek's "Carmen" is an altogether different kettle of fish. Entirely weird but also completely wonderful. This won't be to everyone's taste but somehow this peculiar distillation of a fantastic opera, creates a great deal of emotion without ever really giving any narrative details (almost the opposite of Tuckett's "Sins"). The score stretches this quirkiness to the max with an unnecessarily tinkly version of Bizet's score (plus the truly bizarre insertion of the Farandole from his second "L'Arlésienne" suite) but suppressing my conservative tendencies it pretty much works. The set is a little odd as well with what I assumed were Fans but others suggested Sea Shells or Boats (I'm going to stick with Fans) manoeuvring the stage. The costumes are hardly conventional and the dancers regularly bleat gobbledegook at each other (it might be Spanish, but if it was the dancers' diction was so poor it made no difference). Yet for all these oddities, it remains a ballet that really works. There are some lovely touches; Carmen quite literally stealing men's hearts from their chests and the erotically charged smoking, the group choreography is captivatingly watchable. Tamara Rojo was born to play Carmen and I can't imagine a more passionate performance is possible. Thomas Whitehead was ideally suited to the conflicted José, yearning for the solid relationship that could never occur. Poised, yet earthy, it was a tour de force of character dancing. Bennet Gartside was a little camp for my taste but he played Escamillo with a great deal of flair. Lauren Cuthbertson had the most curious role of all a rather transformed Micaela (called M in this work). Apparently significant as the maternal figure, she had an almost religious manner but a heavily creepy edge. This is a work I'd love to see again, I can only imagine how much depth this piece must have.

The third ballet is quintessential Christopher Wheeldon. An abstract work that conveys far more than it has any right to. When premiered with "Chroma" (which was revived last season), the more conventional classicism of Wheeldon seemed less exciting next to Wayne McGregors harsh, angular style, but having seen both again seperately this rises, to my mind, as the superior work. The score is a marvellous piece by Michael Nyman that has all the feel of the speeding train it was written for. It wasn't given the finest outing by the orchestra who started scrappily and never really found the balance required in the constantly shifting music (although of course it is next to impossible to balance a piece live as well as they have in the recording). The set feels like a train crash, the major element a crumpled collection of metal scattered across the back from which the dancers emerge and return. It's all indecipherable and yet it doesn't matter in the slightest. From the slow almost mournful opening duet beautifully danced by Cindy Jourdain and Ryoichi Hirano to the frantic finale the piece just seems to progress organically. There's a constant shift between the corps dancers and the four principal couples, every action mimicked and adapted across the stage. Fantastic to see Steven McRae back in fine form, electric in his partnering of Morera. Rupert Pennefather seemed fantastically at home partnering the spritely, young Melissa Hamilton (stepping into Darcey Bussell's shoes no less). Only Sergei Polunin seemed to struggle a little, always a fraction behind the precise movements of Leanne Benjamin.

In the end this built to a fantastic triple bill, which gelled despite the dramatic differences in the three ballets. I won't be sad if "Sins" never gets another revival, it amounts to nothing more than half-naked ballerinas cavorting with mostly dressed ballerinos, and feels like an age despite being a mere half hour in length. "Carmen" is witty and original, fully deserving of its continuing place in the repertory. "DGV" deserves to stay in the repertory for a long time. The sheer excitement it conjures over such a short time is difficult to describe. The shift from the awesome company dancing set against heavy drumming to the slow dissipation of the principal dancers in the final moments is near flawless. Pity about "Sins" but this is an otherwise fantastic bill, with the Royal Ballet in very fine form.