The Tyro Theatre Critic

Götterdämmerung (Metropolitan Opera)

2012-01-28T08:07:00.003Z

Did no one tell Robert Lepage that Wagner's "Götterdämmerung" ends with the fall of the gods and a renewal of the world? It's certainly not clear from the utterly inept finale that he has supplied to what is otherwise a decent enough production. Musical standards were high all night but the heavy boos at Lepage's curtain call were hardly surprising, from Siegfried's death onwards the production face-plants into failure.

The Machine whirred into life yet again and aside from a few moments early in the evening, the noises were the least invasive of the cycle (someone found the lubricating oil). There are few surprises, we're still basically in hi-tech but deeply traditional territory, but the imagery is pretty and the slick rotating planks and projections mean the production can ably shift between settings. Lepage also creates some of the most beautiful passages so far, a wonderful Norns' scene and an inventive Rhine journey. In a near revelatory turn of events, the creative team have also worked out how to raise the stage behind the front apron which means the principals are no longer sliced off at the ankles for long periods (as plagued Siegfried).

What is troubling though, is that despite staging the first five hours capably if largely unimaginatively, Lepage finishes the evening on a disastrous note. After the death of Siegfried, the production just loses the plot. Brunnhilde's long immolation scene aria has to fight against the distractions of wood being piled up and, even worse, she then finishes by awkwardly riding a static metal Grane as it's dragged slowly towards the pyre. There follows an abysmal Hagen drowning, some statues popping like crackers and a finish that looked like the creative team hadn't finished (hopefully something went wrong, a la the first night of Rheingold, but it wasn't obvious if it did...). As the climax of the complete Cycle things couldn't really have gone worse. Whatever good had come before, the audience were left with a terrible final impression that won't soon be forgotten.

A real pity as musically this was as fine a night as the Metropolitan Opera have served up all season. The Norns started a bit meekly but from then on the complete cast went from strength to strength. Waltraude Meier's Waltraute was predictably immaculate as was Eric Owen's delectably evil Alberich (also wearing the finest costume I can recall from the cycle). We got a terrific trio of Rhinemaidens who managed to sing gorgeously while sliding up and down the scenery. Iain Paterson produced a quality of singing far beyond what I have heard from him before and gave his usual, thoughtful acting performance. Hans-Peter König went beyond impressive to produce the sort of radiance that made Hagen's death seem almost sad, the star of the night in many ways.

Which brings me to the two high risk roles both of which were performed above expectations. Far above in the case of Deborah Voigt who proved just about everyone wrong in producing a vocal performance that if not completely ideal was certainly up with the best of the current crop of Brunnhildes. She started weakly but found her groove, by Act II she was more than warmed up and Act III was something of a triumph. A pity that such a strong night had to end with her being risibly wheeled on the back of a metal horse towards a slightly smoking pile of wood. Jay Hunter Morris sounded cautious overall, and even then tired a little in Act III, but as in "Siegfried", he's got more than the measure of the role. A superb acting performance paired with a warm heldentenor sound.

I must confess to being disappointed in the Orchestra under Fabio Luisi. Not so much from Luisi's interpretation, which is mostly excellent, but from the quality of the playing which particularly in the Brass was far from world class. Act I suggested the horns were going into something of a meltdown. Things looked up from Act II onwards and though the funeral march could have done with a bit more oompf, in general it was an effective reading.

A very strong night that went bad in the final twenty minutes. Having finally got to grips with his Machine, Lepage failed to get grips with the finale and the result is hugely disappointing. Hopefully changes will be made before the full cycles and then this could actually be a good, if straightforward, Ring Cycle. As it is, Bravo to the singers, it really was a night of great singing.

(Review of Performance on Friday, January 27th, 2012 at the Metropolitan Opera)

New York City Ballet Triple Bill (Donizetti/In Memory/Firebird)

2012-01-27T21:39:00.000Z

Another night, another interesting triple from the New York City Ballet. I do wish they'd stop putting out a continuous, near unbroken stream of Balanchine, they have so much more variety in their rep, but on the plus side they do dance his work extremely well.

Up first was the spectacular and spectacularly uninteresting "Donizetti Variations". An overlong party piece with lots of fun but also extensive longueurs. The central pas de deux is a classic, a peasant "Tchaikovsky Pas de deux" of sorts, but the endless flitting about of the small corps brought little but yawns. Megan Fairchild and Joaquin de Luz were perfect as the central couple. Both delivered strong solos and de Luz's partnering is gorgeously devotional, the pair achieving their best when together. I don't fully understand why the NYCB continue to revive these samey Balanchine fluff ballets (they don't even sell well) but this was pleasant enough I suppose.

Up next was the polar opposite, "In Memory Of...", a ballet that has grown on me immensely since I last saw it and I have no doubt will continue to reveal depth with every viewing. Wendy Whelan truly embodies this fragile girl who is so painfully captured by the creepy Ask la Cour before conjuring spirit raising wonderment in the final transfiguration sequence. A non-narrative work that cries out with emotion, the Berg music and Robbin's choreography perfectly in tune. A stunning ballet that captures what dance can really be about.

"Firebird" is what it is and my only regret is that even Balanchine couldn't quite capture the impact of the music in his choreography. The best of his material is for the Firebird herself, a role that Ashley Bouder delivers with a powerful energy and oodles of sex appeal, but too much of the evening is lost on vaguely trying to tell a story that doesn't make much sense without a synopsis (and even less sense in Balanchine's pared back version). The Chagall cloths are eye-poppingly beautiful, particularly the front drops, and the costumes delectably overblown. Stravinsky's monumental music was capably if not superbly played by the NYCB Orchestra under Clotilde Otranto, not lacking for volume but rhythmic clarity was not always a highlight. A strong performance of a work that never quite achieves the genius it aspires to (but comes very close).

A very interesting triple with some great performances, Whelan and Bouder absolutely stunning. I'd love to see the NYCB perform fewer of Balanchine's party pieces but they're pleasant enough in a forgettable sort of way. Still one can't complaint, performing a dozen works every week, this is a season of riches.

(Review of Performance on Thursday, January 26th, 2012 at the David H. Koch Theater)

The Enchanted Island (Metropolitan Opera)

2012-01-27T20:57:00.002Z

I've been looking forward to "The Enchanted Island" for ages. Fans may mock Peter Gelb for suggesting modern audiences aren't particularly responsive to four hour Baroque epics, but by and large I think he's at least partly right (though some productions more than make it work). The idea behind this pastiche then was to repackage phenomenal Baroque tunes into a piece for modern audiences.

An interesting idea which they've executed well though I have some misgivings. Firstly its seems singularly daft to worry about the length of conventional Baroque opera and then put together a forty plus aria, three and a half hour beast of a show. They've cut many of the individual airs, the da capo form losings its repeated A section in some cases, but the end result is still an evening with as much music as "Rodelinda". What music has been selected was largely new to me, though "Zadok the Priest" gets an inexplicable outing, but it's all as beautiful as you would predict, the Metropolitan Opera under William Christie delivering an expressive if not exactly HIP (Historically Informed Performance).

The plot is something of a Shakespeare mash-up, a blend of "The Tempest" and "A Midsummer Night's Dream", and though the end result is not nearly as good as either it just about works on its own terms (and is vastly better than "The Fairy Queen"). Jeremy Sams, who pretty much put the whole thing together, has replaced all the lyrics of the original airs and his creations are better than you might expect. Cod rhymes not withstanding he tells the story clearly, if laboriously, and even squeezes in a few decent jokes.

With so many songs to sing, it's lucky the Metropolitan Opera have assembled such a large and impressive cast. Joyce DiDonato quite brilliant consumes scenery all evening as Sycorax. She has rather too full a voice for some of the delicacy's of the music but such richness is more than worth the minor textural losses. Danielle de Niese has too small a voice for the Met, increasingly shrill the harder she pushes, but her mugging couldn't have been more appropriate to the light tone of the evening and the audience just lapped it up. Luca Pisaroni acted tremendously and though he didn't sing as much as I would have liked, proved himself a versatile singer. Rather less strong was David Daniels, who has been sick recently I believe, but who was well off the pace, sounding weak and regularly inaccurate. In smaller parts, Lisette Oropesa, Elizabeth DeShong and Paul Madore all stood out, while Anthony Roth Constanzo turned up at the 11th hour to show Daniels just how a counter-tenor should sound. Placido Domingo's barking Neptune is better not mentioned...

All this of course fails to take into account that "The Enchanted Island" isn't just about the music and text, it's every bit about Phelim McDermott and Julian Crouch's ludicrously fabulous production. Projections have seldom been used with such pizazz, and the balance of technology with good, old fashioned scenery bring endless miraculous imagery to the stage. It all slips a little too far into panto occasionally, especially with de Niese's Ariel, but what a pure visual joy the evening is.

There's a lot that isn't perfect about "The Enchanted Island" but it's a joyful show that consistently raises a smile. I think it's fair to say you could probably cut a third of the music without much harm but in most other respects it's a success for Gelb and the Met. Only a couple of performances left, but I'm told it'll be back in a season or two.

(Review of Performance on Wednesday, January 25th, 2012 at the Metropolitan Opera)

Ch'ing.lish

2012-01-25T22:04:00.001Z

"Chinglish" by David Henry Hwang is that rare thing: a simple, unaffected play that really works. There's nothing particularly original to be found here, Hwang is mining a rich but well worn seam of mis-translation jokes, but it's a genuine, heartfelt work that deserves more than its all too brief time on Broadway.

Hwang takes a naive American businessman travelling to China as his narrative starting point for what becomes an elegantly intelligent exploration of linguistic and cultural divides. Daniel Cavanaugh, subtly acted by Gary Wilmes, is trying to sell signage to China and naturally some of the infamous, awkward chinglish signs are quickly show to predictable laughs. It doesn't take Hwang long however to quickly undercut this easy, even patronising, humour with faultlessly rendered characters.

Cavanaugh soon begins an affair with a Chinese minister, charmingly played by Jennifer Lim, and in relationships, just as in Business, Hwang ably demonstrates the gargantuan differences between East and West. Thanks to faultless plotting and a continuous stream of clever jokes the show speeds along, and though the final conclusions are far from earth shattering, "Chinglish" feels like a journey taken with critical eyes but respect for all.

Situated in the small Longacre Theatre, "Chinglish" is staged in a wonderfully compact and effortless production. Using two revolves and sliding chairs (we get something of a waltz of the armchairs), the show is technically impressive yet never feels anything other than natural. The mid-sized cast is filled with strong performances, Larry Lei Zhang delivers a brilliant Chinese bureaucrat and Stephen Pucci's British translator gradually reveals a 3-dimensionality that rings completely true.

A frankly stunning play whose power really derives from how ordinary it at first seems to be. There's nothing big or special, it's just a good story, well told and the end result is something deeply thoughtful and affecting. A pity is has had such a short stint on Broadway, you've got a few more days to catch it and "Chinglish" is more than worth the effort.

(Review of Performance on Saturday, January 21st, 2012 at the Longacre Theatre)

Close Up Space

2012-01-23T20:36:00.001Z

And it started so well... "Close Up Space" opens with a simply sublime monologue that had me in stitches, in no small part because it dangerously reminded me of toiling under a similar writing editor who didn't much like Oxford commas either. It's a pity Molly Smith Metzler didn't stop at this point because it's all downhill from here.

"Close Up Space" isn't funny enough and isn't nearly moving enough mostly because it doesn't really add up. We first meet Paul, a sharp book editor with a razor sharp tongue, scaring the bejesus out of an unsuspecting writing intern. His wife died several years ago, he's lost control of his daughter and as the play progresses his life unravels not dissimilarly to how the play's connection to reality unravels. Thanks to David Hyde Pierce, the character of Paul just about works. The same cannot be said of any of the other characters.

The entry of Paul's daughter, Harper, as she barges her way into his office spouting Russian and brandishing snowballs, is the point where the show loses all credibility. The various relationships do not stack up and every character but Paul slips into caricature. Colby Minifie's Harper never quite recovers from her daft start but she sells the more humorous elements well. We also get a ballsy female author, wickedly played by Rosie Perez, and a dopey office boy, Michael Chernus who doesn't manage much, neither of whom come close to entering the 3rd dimension. The play becomes rudderless, grasping at ideas that can't work because the characters don't.

With solid visual design and capable performances, "Close Up Space" seldom bores. It doesn't really work as a piece of drama however, you'll neither laugh nor cry. New plays are always a gamble and Metzler's effort is far from a crash and burn, but it's a long way from a success as well.

(Review of Performance on Friday, January 20th, 2012 at the New York City Center Stage 1)

Faust (Metropolitan Opera)

2012-01-21T23:26:00.004Z

I wouldn't for the life of me have headed back to the Metropolitan Opera for another dose of Des McAnuff's production of "Faust" were it not for the presence of Joseph Calleja. Much like the first time around, it's a limp production, but all praise to the Met for assembling not one but two impressive casts.

Calleja and Jonas Kaufmann are about as different sounding as tenors come. Calleja's tone is bright and voluminous, his top swells to produce some of the most easy and bell like notes imaginable. "Salut demeure" came off gorgeously. The price you pay for this is a very distinctive vocal character that won't be to all tastes, a squillo punch that can occasionally come across as uncomfortably heavy vibrato. Unique singing however you hear him and acted with conviction, though emotively it was all a bit general, it was a total performance of some class.

If Calleja proved Kaufmann's equal, Ferruccio Furlanetto did not live up to the absurd charisma of Rene Pape as Mephistopheles. Furlanetto has just the right devilish smile but much of his acting was too blunt and his Bass forced. He powered out the notes losing all sense of beauty, reduced to barking out the high lying passages. Marina Poplavskaya was the only remaining principal from the first cast and she continued to deliver an extremely refined but slightly soulless Marguerite. She seemed to tire a little towards the end of the evening, and struggled with both the highest and lowest of material, but it was a pretty solid effort overall.

The smaller roles were superbly taken. George Petean is something of a stand and deliver singer but the sound he produces is lovely; Kate Lindsey, always a house favourite, charmed as Siebel. Alain Altinoglu kept the evening zipping along in the pit, the orchestra have had plenty of practice at this music and it came across flawlessly.

McAnuff's staging remains a thing of little interest (I described it at length in my first review). Aside from the odd irritatingly irrelevant directorial addition it's more vacant than actively intrusive. It's a concept production that doesn't believe in its concept, more or less ditching it for Acts II through IV, but at least it gets the narrative from A to B without too many undue complications.

A good vocal cast do not a great evening make and the Met's "Faust" hasn't yet found its groove (this was the last performance this season). Hardly the greatest of praise then, but not total damnation either.

(Review of Performance on Thursday, January 19th, 2012 at the Metropolitan Opera)

New York City Ballet Quad Bill (Tin Soldier/Tombeau/Tchaikovsky/Union Jack)

2012-01-20T20:32:00.000Z

The Nutcrackers are all finished so it's time for a delectable five week season of short works (plus Romeo and Juliet) from the New York City Ballet. I'll be heading to as much as I can, "Ocean's Kingdom" probably getting a miss, and up first was an all Balanchine quad bill that positively overflowed with a sense of fun.

The curtain rose on "The Steadfast Tin Soldier" whose miniature set is scarily reminiscent of Act I of the Nutcracker, Christmas tree included. The ballet itself takes a similar tack, sweet with a creepiness at the core. A slight tale of a toy soldier's infatuation with a ballerina doll, that ends as nastily as you might expect of a Hans Christian Andersen story. This isn't really Balanchine's finest work though, lacking shading which results in a charming few minutes followed by an unexpectedly bleak end. Erica Pereira and Daniel Ulbricht both captured the stilted movement of the toys, Ulbricht has a fabulous spring to him which was entirely appropriate, but neither found much depth in the characters. Overall "Tin Soldier" is just a bit too cutesy.

The second ballet, "Le Tombeau de Couperin" is as Balanchine as they come, almost to the point of looking like a pastiche. Plain costumes on a plain background with mirrored and repeating choreography for 8 couples. To be honest the atmosphere was one of technical strength, though there was some scrappiness, but to very little overall effect. There's no emotion, despite the glories of the music which was well played by the NYCB Orchestra under Faycal Karoui, and not much to hold interest. Lots going on, all of which looked very pretty, but the point of it all doesn't seem to reach much beyond prettiness.

The "Tschaikovsky Pas de Deux" is similarly pretty but my word is it good fun and coming in under ten minutes it's no wonder this piece is so beloved of Gala programmers. You need great dancers however and Tiler Peck and Gonzalo Garcia comfortably delivered the goods. Peck's turns are things of wonder and she did it all with a smile on her face like it was the easiest thing in the world. There's no emotion here, but the short length means it isn't an issue: eye-popping ballet fireworks.

The grand finale was the truly spectacular, "Union Jack". As a Brit, sitting through this was faintly embarrassing (did the flag really need to be so big?), but the sheer joy of it all is totally infectious. Balanchine takes British quirks, from Kilts to Sailors through Pearly Queens, and creates a magnificently silly but rather triumphant hour long ballet. It's a huge company piece, more than 70 dancers on-stage, and the dancing was first rate with everyone looking like they were having a great time. To pick highlights seems almost unfair but it would be remiss of me not to mention how absurdly well Andrew Veyette slipped into the role of the Pearly King. He made the Costermonger pas de deux genuinely funny. "Union Jack" is dance as pure theatre and I couldn't have enjoyed it more.

A very decent bill that ended on a massive high. None of the works really found much greater meaning but the quality was high and each work had its strengths. Lots more to come over the next month or so and I can only hope it'll all be as strong as this.

(Review of Performance on Wednesday, January 18th, 2012 at the David H. Koch Theater)

Tosca (Metropolitan Opera)

2012-01-18T20:50:00.001Z

Trundling back to New York after my London break, first on my list was the much maligned Luc Bondy production of "Tosca" at the Metropolitan Opera. It is indeed a weak production but it wasn't much helped by the glamorous but unfocused cast. To take the lethal drama that is "Tosca" and make it quite so dull is something I never thought I'd see.

Roberto Alagna came out firing on all cylinders yet this was a bish, bash, bosh performance of little shading. He went for the vocal school of louder is better, with apparently little concern for the minor niceties of pitch and phrasing. In the final act he came out a different performer however, producing a gorgeous, well shaped, even poetic "E lucevan le stelle". It was too long coming though, and he never even seemed to be attempting chemistry with his Tosca, Patricia Racette. Racette is a very fine singer but one with little personality to speak of. She has a pleasing, rather meaty voice and there was little to criticize or dislike but for whatever reason she didn't shine. Pick of the bunch was George Gagnidze's gloriously nasty Scarpia, growling his way through the part with a sweaty majesty. The smaller roles were exceptionally well filled, Paul Plishka (bowing out after many decades at the Met) showed exactly how to round out the small role of the Sacristan and Richard Bernstein delivered a full throttle Angelotti. Neel Ram Nagarajan produced the loudest shepherd's song I have ever heard and it was near faultless to boot.

All this good work however counted for nothing in this tedious staging. Bondy appears to have vaguely aimed at naturalism but with varying period, costumes seemingly traversing centuries, and little to engender a sense of place. Act I's church achieved the rare feat of making the stage look spare whilst also dwarfing the singers. Act II took us to what appeared to be a Eastern-European communist apartment (with horrific couches) whilst the Act III battlements offered the odd impression of being a dockside, the conclusion having Tosca about to jump from about 10 feet into water (we disappointingly get no actual jump). If the designs are dull as dishwater, what really fails is the stagecraft which relentlessly ignores the music, text and reality. To name just one example what kind of an execution by firing squad gives the shooters a difficult shot and the prisoner an opportunity to flee? The little things just do not add up in this production.

To cap off this rather dull evening was Mikko Franck's uneven conducting, the odd bit too fast and considerable sections delivered at a snoozy pace (makes one yearn for a good dose of Pappano). Overall then, a show light on drama though the reasonably high quality singing meant it never lacked for pleasures. It's a poor production, neither here nor there, the grey walls providing a tidy metaphor for the atmosphere on stage.

(Review of Performance on Saturday, January 14th, 2012 at the Metropolitan Opera)

Matilda the Musical

2012-01-17T16:22:00.004Z

I've said it before and I'll say it again. "Matilda the Musical" is unbelievably brilliant. The kind of show that makes me want to force everyone I've ever met to go along and see it for themselves. I first saw it in Stratford and now in the West End, "Matilda" has lost none of its force, indeed it might even be better.

Tim Minchin and Dennis Kelly have crafted a moderately faithful retelling of Roald Dahl's timeless tale that launches the narrative into stratospherically wonderful places. Through a steady stream of extremely witty songs and a script that never lets the pace flag, the pair have worked wonders. It's hard to name top tunes as the evening is full of them and Minchin scores a real hit by drawing on lots of different genres to create a musical idiom that fits Dahl's fantastical story like a glove. The lyrics and book are truly superb because they balance driving the story forward and being accessible to all ages with packing a genuine satirical punch. They constantly ask, what does it mean to be a "miracle"?

The answer of course is just to be in anyway involved with "Matilda the Musical" and Matthew Warchus's production has lost none of its glee in shifting from the three sided Royal Shakespeare Company Courtyard Theatre to the conventional proscenium of the Cambridge Theatre. The audience are inevitably further away but the larger than life performances easily make it across the footlights, the only loss are some of the lyrics with the sound design over-amplifying the orchestra at the expense of the voice. The gloriously colourful sets remain a treat, the energetic choreography electrifying and the magic endlessly surprising. High marks for the new curtain call as well which is great fun.

I assume Bertie Carvel has already cleared his mantelpiece as he's going to need room for the awards he will now inevitably receive for his masterclass as Agatha Trunchball. A marvellous physical performance paired with a voice that'll give half the children in the audience nightmares for weeks (myself included), Carvel is as magnificent as they come. The rest of the adult cast triumph similarly: Lauren Ward's adorable Miss Honey squaring off against the horrible Wormwoods of Josie Walker and Paul Kaye. It is the children that rule here however led by the Matilda of Eleanor Worthington Cox. It's a huge role taken by four different girls in rotation; Cox proved to be more than up to the task, enchanting the audience and then holding us in the palm of her hand.

There aren't enough superlatives to throw at "Matilda". It's a show that defies all belief, achieving a blissful combination of comedy and heart. If you haven't seen it already then get your tickets pronto, if you have seen it already then you hardly need me to remind you it's probably time to go again. I'm back to NYC tomorrow but come March I can guarantee I'll be back for another dose of "Matilda". A show that will never get old.

(Review of Performance on Tuesday, January 10th, 2012 at the Cambridge Theatre)

Crazy For You

2012-01-13T23:03:00.001Z

"Crazy For You" is an old-fashioned, dance heavy musical that thrills when it works but flatlines when it doesn't. It would be hard to argue that Ken Ludwig's book is as good as it should be but the collated Gershwin songbook goes from hit to hit to hit.

The show's themes are unlikely to strike anyone as original but it's a charming tale. Our hero Bobby, played by the positively effervescent Sean Palmer, is a New Yorker desperate to be a star of the stage. At the start of the show he is sent to a decrepit western town by his overbearing mother. Here he falls in love with the local girl and you know the rest... The evening hums along nicely though the narrative is really just a route from each song to the next and longueurs develop whenever these gaps grow too great. Occasionally witty but not consistently enough.

This production started at the Regent's Park Open Air Theatre and has now migrated to the West End where it works effectively if looking slightly spare. The simple scenery is remarkably adaptable, two rotating buildings providing all the settings, but lacks the visual pizazz that can be found in the costumes. Someone foolishly decided the show needed a revolve (hardly used at all) whose installation has resulted in the Novello stage being about two feet higher than usual and as a result the front six rows or so lose the actors' feet: a mindboggling error when you consider this is a tap dancing show.

Conversion problems aside this is a first rate staging that after a dodgy five minutes or so of lame dialogue unleashes the first big dance number and never looks back. Stephen Mear's choreography, using Susan Stroman's work as a base, is full of wow moments, packing the stage with stunning performers in sparkly outfits. The lightly comic text is only enhanced by the physical performances from the cast, brawls and shootouts sitting side by side with high kicking and spectacular tapping.

Alongside Palmer, who is a fabulous leading man, singing and dancing his way into our hearts, the large cast is pretty consistently excellent. Clare Foster acts the lead female role impeccably and dances elegantly, her vocals are weaker than they should be however, pitch not a strength, and her accent was variable at best. These two dominate the evening but high praise to David Burt for his superb comic turn in Act II, a drunken scene that coud have fallen very flat but became the highlight of the evening, and Alexis Owen Hobbs for her delectably dizzy chorus girl.

If you're looking for an easygoing night out you could do a great deal worse than "Crazy For You". It's not perfect by any means, the script hardly living up to the tunes, but what amazing tunes they are. The house was little more than half full the night I attended so I'd recommend going sooner rather than later. I can't see it lasting more than a couple more months at this point.

(Review of Performance on Monday, January 9th, 2012 at the Novello Theatre)

The Nutcracker (Royal Ballet)

2012-01-12T10:18:00.002Z

The Royal Ballet's "Nutcracker" marks the final Nutcracker in my self designed, transatlantic Nutcracker Festival that has taken in six different productions of Tchaikovsky's magnificent work over the last month or so. I feel both very blessed and not a little bit silly...

This is the Nutcracker that I was basically brought up on, so it exists in a slightly rose tinted sphere in my mind. Objectively it's still pretty impressive. Peter Wright places the focus solely on Drosselmeyer and in the process creates a story that actually works, though Act II's divertissements do still come as something of a break from narrative. Drosselmeyer in this production becomes very much the puppet master, engineering the whole thing in an attempt to rescue his cursed nephew. Clara feels fully developed, as does the Nutcracker, but by broadening the scope, Wright avoids the usual problem of Clara becoming sidelined in Act II's frivolities. Plot aside, it's also one of the most consistently interesting productions choreographically: the Act I battle scene is probably the best and the divertissements have barely a weak link.

It squares off with the Birmingham Royal Ballet's production for plushness, the Julia Trevelyan Oman designs ravishing to look at despite their increasing age. The Act I transformation is absolutely smashing, simple but executed to perfection (no wobbly, cloth trees here), and Oman keeps the fantastical levels high with a gorgeous snow scene and then lots of visual fun in the Land of Sweets. The costumes glisten with beauty whilst avoiding the tackiness that can creep in with so many sequins festooned about.

For all that is good about this production it wasn't given the strongest of outings at this performance. With Gary Avis as Drosselmeyer the ballet's heart was assured, Avis is second to none in character roles, but many of the small solos were adequate and not a lot more. As Clara, Sabina Westcombe looked perfectly the part and offered some lovely footwork but she failed to mesh with any of her partners and just occasionally looked like she wasn't quite sure what was coming next. Her Nutcracker, James Hay, was strong on solos but lacked sufficient upper-body strength for partnering, fluffing more than one lift. Across the Act II dances too much looked unpolished, the shining light was Emma Maguire's delightful Rose Fairy.

The evening never really got going however until Yuhui Choe and Sergei Polunin took to the stage for the Grand Pas de deux. Polunin has got better and better over the last few years and not only does he continue to leap like few others but he now also partners with skill. I'm not sure I've seen the opening duet danced with more assurance. He couldn't have been working with a dancer of more poise however than Choe, who would look robotic were she not so musical. She doesn't have the buoyancy to wow in her solos but she is a classy, magnetic dancer.

A decent evening but not one for the memories (though I'm not short of those with the Royal Ballet Nutcracker). I've had a fabulous month or so of this music and even now don't feel completely Nutcrackered out! It'll never be my favourite ballet but as my travels have shown me, it's a score of real joy that has given licence for a great many happy family outings.

(Review of Performance on Saturday, January 7th, 2012 at the Royal Opera House)

For reference/links to my various Nutcracker reviews:
New York City Ballet's Balanchine production
American Ballet Theatre's Ratmansky production
English National Ballet's Eagling production
Birmingham Royal Ballet's Wright production
New Adventure's Bourne production
The Royal Ballet Wright production

Pippin

2012-01-11T12:06:00.001Z

The Menier Chocolate Factory's tech heavy "Pippin" brought out the nerd in me. Arriving in the auditorium is a complete delight, wandering through a detailed teenage boy's bedroom before entering a crazy, laser driven, acting space oozing atmosphere. The great pity is that whoever designed the bedroom evidently had no hand in designing the reimagined narrative. "Pippin" the mmorpg is a total, illogical stinker.

Whenever video games turn up in theatre it seems the people plonking them there haven't a clue what video games look like or do. This "futuristic" production is a particularly onerous example of this problem. When "Tron" appears to be the biggest influence you've got to worry, and once they start mentioning "levels" you know all is lost. The reasoning behind the new setting is difficult to fathom, even more so once the original Fosse choreography starts. This is a "Pippin" stuck in a time warp of campy costumes, 70s synth, dated dance and gimmicky projections.

The whole thing doesn't come close to working, the concept overwhelming the original musical with a steady stream of poorly thought out additions. Our Pippin is a teenage boy playing an mmorpg. In it he plays along with a group of other players who are apparently a load of cyber bullies under the cosh of the "Leading Player" (why they are doing this is never explained). The fact that this means all sense of threat goes out the window, immolation not so scary when you consider it's just an avatar, isn't really explored. We can explain away this inherent problem by suggesting this might be a simulated reality (though the whole bedroom thing doesn't make much sense if so) but even that falls apart when two of the other real world figures wander in in the latter stages.

The production even has the audacity to suggest (as with everything it really isn't clear) that these games are a corrupting influence. An interesting argument but one that holds no water when the director hasn't a clue what he's talking about. I'm probably reading too much into this but frankly it's embarrassing that the creative team tried to crowbar something they clearly have little knowledge of, onto a piece that doesn't need it, creating nothing other than an incoherent, inconsequential mess.

That said, I actually found this completely hysterical with barely a dull moment. Probably not what Stephen Schwartz was aiming for when he wrote it, the moralistic tone just feels quaint, but as a camp "so awful, it's good" sense this is a laugh. Schwartz wrote some undeniably good tunes and the Menier has put together a terrific cast led my the ever fabulous Matt Rawle. Rawle does a remarkable job maintaining a creepy machiavellian quality despite the unintentional hilarity around him. He's got a stunning voice (though all the voices were over-amplified) and I spent much of the performance wishing it was him not Ricky Martin that will be taking up Che on Broadway.

Pippin was taken by an earnest Harry Hepple. He struggled at times with the high lying music but had enough charisma to make it through. He variously meets in-game characters played by Ian Kelsey, David Page and Frances Ruffelle all of whom sing well and manage to keep straight faces throughout (they're so good I actually briefly became convinced they were taking it seriously). Carly Bawden enters in Act II to attempt some genuine emotion but that ship had long sailed.

A total train wreck but the two and a half hour crash and burn is a sight I wouldn't have missed. A disaster of glorious enormity. I should feel offended, Mitch Sebastian has played the typical arrogant director in co-opting something he doesn't understand, but he's done it so horrifically that I couldn't but stand back and watch. Artistically the best course of action is probably to enter the Menier, observe the set and then leave. However, that would be to miss the sheer schlocky joy of one of the most misguided bits of theatre I've seen in a long time.

(Review of Performance on Saturday, January 7th, 2012 at the Menier Chocolate Factory)

The Heart of Robin Hood

2012-01-09T17:36:00.002Z

The last time I made a pilgrimage to Stratford-upon-Avon I found the glorious "Matilda". Trekking to "The Heart of Robin Hood", this year's Royal Shakespeare Company (RSC) seasonal offering, seemed like a similarly safe bet. As it turns out Robin probably deserves a West End transfer too.

That said, it won't, as the production wouldn't fit in any West End Theatre I can think of. The staging uses the full resources of the new RSC theatre, a hugely vertical design, which will come as a surprise to no one who knows Gisli Örn Garðarsson's previous work with his own company "Vesturport". The set also includes one of the coolest on stage entrances I can recall. The RSC theatre has a large thrust stage and has here gained an enormous, steep sloping wall at the non-audience end that provides copious excuses for both scaling and sliding down at tremendous speed. The set also features a pond that must be the most abused pool of water I've ever seen: people and objects coming in and out of it seemingly ever couple of minutes.

The stagecraft then is superlative but this is not just smoke and mirrors. David Farr has put together an original take on the Robin Hood legend that places Maid Marion at its core. Robin becomes a young, headstrong man who is stealing for himself and the play depicts him being taught the ways of the world by Marion and her jester Pierre (and predictably falling in love too). The standard villainy appears in the form of Prince John and no one will be disappointed by the way the merry men are portrayed but the more overblown, macho elements are generally played down. A quasi-feminist take if you will on a fairly boy centric legend. There's a very real sense of danger however, and being the RSC there's significant violence including a decapitation and a rather nasty tongue slicing scene.

The cast look like they're having an absolute ball as the slide, leap and fly about the auditorium. Iris Roberts has just the right amount of steel as the tomboy Marion, she's elegant enough to be believable as the most beautiful woman in England but has enough edge to pass for one of the boys. She's assisted by the marvellously foppish, Ólafur Darri Ólafsson who prances about the stage to the delight of everyone. There was a risk here that Robin himself would become rather dislikable, he's headstrong and pretty rude, but James McArdle does fine work making him seem juvenile rather than vile. On the truly vile front Martin Hutson and Tim Treloar double team as the villains, Treloar's Gisborne of the particularly nasty variety.

A thrilling bit of theatre that sets the heart beat going with phenomenally visceral stagecraft before capturing it with a well told, heartfelt yarn. Now finished, I fear never to return, but for those who caught it, "The Heart of Robin Hood" will long in the memory.

(Review of Performance on Thursday, January 5th, 2012 at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre in Stratford-Upon-Avon)

The Canterbury Tales

2012-01-08T21:52:00.000Z

Having ventured to the Southwark Theatre it seemed only sensible to check out everything on offer. After spending the afternoon at the disappointing, technology heavy "Howl's Moving Castle", "The Canterbury Tales" was certainly something a bit different. A hearty, highly physical production that didn't quite fly, though not for lack of trying.

The Southwark Theatre space has been dramatically reconfigured as a medieval tavern, the show is staged in the round with a central acting space as well as several raised platforms positioned around the seating area. The audience are regularly encouraged to grab a pint from the constantly open bar, indeed the atmosphere was wonderfully jovial. Into this arena a group of players re-enact a collection of the most famous Chaucer "Canterbury tales". Each delivered with tongues planted firmly in cheeks.

The smallish cast throw themselves into these stories with glee, playing musical instruments and singing as well as acting and dancing. There's an improvisational quality to the acting, lots of rough and tumble and plenty of attempts at getting the audience to shout and play along. Unfortunately, and part of this was the rather aged middle class audience, much of the interactivity fell on relatively deaf ears. The biggest problem though is that each tale stands alone and stripped of the pilgrimage hook, it meant the evening lacked drive and became repetitive. Little sense emerged of the players having personalities outside of the stories.

The cast are a likable lot, interacting with the audience in a playful, rather charming way. John Canmore held the whole thing together as Harry Bailey, the innkeeper. He enchantingly introduced all the tales in the original Chaucer text which added flavour though it is of course near unintelligible to modern ears (something the piece fully recognises early on). The rest do excellent work around him, Ellie Moore strong on both flirtation and violin playing while Rosalind Blessed did a fine turn as a stereotypical but warmhearted bar wench.

A thoroughly enjoyable evening but as it reached its end I realised that I didn't want more stories I probably wanted a couple less. Each tale stands alone well but the evening amounts to less than the sum of its parts. A jovial, bawdy evening that comes dangerously close to excellence.

(Review of Peformance on Wednesday, January 4th, 2012 at the Southwark Theatre)

Howl's Moving Castle

2012-01-07T23:07:00.000Z

The Southwark Playhouse's projection driven "Howl's Moving Castle" quite successfully falls in just about every pitfall of cinematic theatre you could conceive of. A show as thin as the 2-D imagery.

The story of "Howl's Moving Castle", a novel by Diana Wynne Jones, was new to me and I'm told is much more interesting than what we get in this adaptation. Reduced to only three on-stage performers plus a couple of voiceovers, an efficient running time is the only benefit. Fantasy works because the characters seem real yet here no one develops as more than a cipher.

For what it's worth, the story centers on a young girl who for no obvious reason is turned into an old woman by an evil witch. In this form she cleans the castle of a cheeky magician named Howl and in the process defeats the witch, redeems Howl and saves a firey thing called Calcifer from enslavement. The whys and wherefores are beyond me and nothing in the show made me care one iota about any of them.

Daniel Ings does a fair job of at least making Howl engaging, basically a caricature but at least a charming one. Susan Sheridan never quite felt real as the old woman, far too knowing and wise for a young girl magicked old, but she's a trooper and gamely acted like what she was saying made sense. Kristin McGuire, who also directed with her husband Davy, horrifically overacts throughout turning the witch into a pantomime villain and the young girl into an irritation. Both the voiceovers, one by the inimitable Stephen Fry, were excellent though the poor quality speakers meant words got lost.

The McGuire, husband and wife team are much more interested in pretty pictures and at least on this count they mostly score a hit. Though much less polished than those produced by "1927" (who outclass this production by some margin), they do have a tatty beauty to them; vast vistas projected on the quirky paper set. The lighting could do with some adjustment however, actors frequently with their faces darkened and mountains projected on their chests, and the fight scenes look like awkward Dragon Balls Z combat. Fyfe Dangerfield has provided some eerie tunes as a score of sorts, but it doesn't integrate well, feeling frequently overblown and false.

Overall a disappointing production. An ambitious idea delivered in a simplistic fashion with all the magic lost along the way. A novel variation for Christmas but not a successful one.

(Review of Performance on Wednesday, January 4th, 2012 at the Southwark Playhouse)

The Ladykillers

2012-01-05T21:39:00.000Z

From the poster (see above) I hadn't the foggiest what this was about. With no knowledge at all of the original Ealing Comedy film, I was largely drawn to "The Ladykillers" by its cast and creative team. Written by Graham Linehan and starring a whole host of British comedy excellence, this looked very promising. As it turns out, "The Ladykillers" is exactly my cup of tea.

A comedy thriller with a heady dose of gore, if watching six of the Nation's finest comedians eat scenery (amazing scenery) sounds good then you will not be disappointed. Peter Capaldi turns in a ludicrously overblown performance, liberally spitting on the front row and hamming it up to the nth degree. In many shows he would overwhelm but here he slots right in. The set itself (when not being chewed on, which isn't often) is an absurdly wonderful, off-kilter, multi-leveled house that produces various elegant magic tricks and revolves to reveal a series of exteriors including an unbelievably witty heist sequence.

I don't really want to spoil the plot. It starts from the premise that an eclectic group of criminals are planning a robbery from the spare room of a dotty old lady, played by Marcia Warren, but takes a series of turns that are both riveting and hysterical. The physical comedy comes thick and fast, a recurring joke with a rotating blackboard sidesplittingly funny, whilst the verbal dialogue is riddled with awful puns that you'll still find yourself giggling at. The evening reaches its laughter apotheosis in the middle with a brilliant musical scene, the second half then turns bleaker and blacker with magical effects rendering violence as theatrical gold.

Aside from Capaldi the cast all compete in the funny stakes. Ben Miller does a tidy line in silly accents whilst Clive Rowe plays completely against type as the totally dimwitted One Round. James Fleet dithers in the grandest of English traditions whilst Stephen Wight gets smacked in the face at regular intervals and manages to be the most endearingly innocent criminal you could imagine. Warren is the glue that binds the evening together, her moral indignity paired with adorable confusion is entirely lovable.

"The Ladykillers" will put few demands on your brain but it's a good laugh while it lasts. For sheer laughter, "Noises Off" and "One Man, Two Guvnors" have it beat, but there's always room for more farce and any other year this would be the funniest thing going. Head on down to the Gielgud for a good old fashioned romp.

(Review of Performance on Tuesday, January 3rd, 2012 at the Gielgud Theatre)

Juno and the Paycock

2012-01-05T12:00:00.000Z

It's got to be said, Irish playwrights have their own personal brand of misery. "Juno and the Paycock" by Sean O'Casey is a long, slow burning play that simply revels in poverty and gloom. A piece that is all the more anguished because it's also regularly so funny. This co-production between the Abbey Theatre, where the play premiered, and the National Theatre should have been perfection. It isn't.

Howard Davies and Bob Crowley have encased the whole thing in a production of unnecessary beauty. Set in a Dublin Tenement during 1922, Crowley's set seethes with faded grandeur to the point of looking gorgeous. The Georgian features elegantly flake off the walls, cracks have never looked so pretty, while the whole thing is given a painterly look thanks to the artful lighting. This would be praise were in not for the fact that it totally undermines the poverty that the protagonists are suffering through.

Juno Boyle is the matriarch of a severely impoverish Irish family living in squalid conditions, a single room in a crowded building (or it should be, here it's huge and not that grim). Through the course of the play we see her compassionate resolve waiver, but never break, as she strives to keep her family together. The play charts the Boyles as they receive an unexpected inheritance, begin to change their lives and then suffer a serious of colossal disasters as a result of the sectarian violence and just plain bad luck. This description might make the play seem action packed, which it is, but not until after the interval. Act I is a dirge with almost nothing happening at all.

Juno is played by Sinéad Cusack, who offers the finest of the performances, making the dying moments of the show absolutely gut wrenching. Ciarán Hinds tumbles about the stage as her deeply unpleasant husband and he epitomises the show's problems. He's a magnificent actor but he's just too charismatic, Jack is hateful in so many ways and yet somehow Hinds turns him into a hero. The two children are terrifically well played: Clare Dunne and Ronan Raftery (displaying the finest limp I've seen all year) bringing humanity to characters who ever so slightly feel like archetypes. The cast is enormous, excessively so considering doubling (tripling even) would have made little difference to roles like "Second Neighbour".

If you can slog through what is a difficult Act I then you're in for a traumatising but fascinating Act II. Many people couldn't, with an unsurprising number of newly empty seats appearing after the interval. Squalor given a rosy hue, even when the acting clicks there is always the nagging feeling that things aren't so bad (even though they most definitely are). A difficult to stomach play that deserves better.

(Review of Performance on Tuesday, January 3rd, 2012 at the National Theatre, Lyttelton)

La Traviata (Royal Opera)

2012-01-04T02:55:00.001Z

I must confess, I did not have the highest of expectations for this revival of "La Traviata". The Royal Opera have been wheeling out various casts over an epic run of performances and the combination of Ermonela Jaho (who replaced Anna Netrebko in this role a few years ago), Stephen Costello and Paolo Gavanelli looked on paper to be a good, not great, bit of casting. How wrong I was. A remarkable night of singing.

The Richard Eyre production has never looked anything less than brilliant. The sets whilst geographically questionable, Act I looks like a cross between a mausoleum and Minas Tirith, evoke the perfect atmosphere and compress and expand the action as needed to serve both the intimate and large-scale scenes. It has been serviceably revived here though I'd be lying if I said it was as polished as it has been in previous runs. The acting from all was broader than it should be and the chorus looked oddly unsure considering they've been doing this more or less continuously for the last three months.

In the title role, Jaho's acting could only be described as overwrought. It's a pity as everything else about her is pretty marvellous. She's a fierce little singer, not the prettiest of sounds but vibrant and technically fabulous. She aces the coloratura whilst never losing sight of the vocal shadings of Violetta, displaying bravura and crippling illness in equal measures. Her rendition of Act III was breathtakingly confident, she looked half-dead (ideal and fairly unusual for a soprano) yet still held that sense of stature and class.

She was well paired with Costello's charmingly sung, puppy dog of an Alfredo. The chemistry was evident between the two, even though his acting doesn't get much beyond one note affection in Act I shifting to one note sadness by Act III. Both the weak and strong link was Gavanelli's incredible booming Germont. For sheer vocal prowess he'd be hard to beat, his slight aging vocal wobble entirely appropriate, but he often gave the impression of being the only person on stage. An old school stand and deliver performance.

The small roles were all terrifically well sung, Justina Gringyte, a Jette Parker Young Artist, achieving the impossible in actually making the non-role of Flora noticeable. Robert Lloyd and Jeremy White provided able support and experience though Ji Hyun Kim, another Jette Young Artist, offered such a small voice he could barely be heard.

Letting the side down a little was Maurizio Benini in the pit who, whilst mostly producing a lovely, fulsome orchestral sound, took such aggressive tempi, particularly in Act III, that the singers were occasionally struggling to keep up.

A grand night at the opera dominated by a central performance from Jaho. She was well assisted, at least vocally, by Costello and Gavanelli, and even weakly revived, this production remains a treasure. Despite the maddeningly long run of Traviatas, tickets are difficult to come by (at least the bankable operas are still bankable!). This trio are well worth the effort to find them.

(Review of Performance on Monday, January 2nd, 2012 at the Royal Opera House)

Nutcracker!

2012-01-03T23:13:00.000Z

My head is now spinning with Nutcrackers but Matthew Bourne's take, "Nutcracker!" is a sufficiently delightful spin that I came out more than grinning. Filled with larger than life characters in Zany costumes, it's a visual dream and has just enough heart to make it more than just a pretty picture.

Bourne's reinvention is much in line with all his other ballets, narrative heavy without actually making much sense. Clara now lives in a grim Dickensian orphanage run by the nasty Dr Dross (think Drosselmeyer and then think again), and his similarly mean family. On Christmas Eve some inexplicable magic occurs and Clara is taken on a journey to "Sweetieland" that eventually leads to her escaping to a better life. Without Drosselmeyer or any discernable source of magic, it's not really clear quite why the Nutcracker (who isn't a Nutcracker but a doll) comes alive at all, but no matter. It's a weird, funny, surprising show, each scene making sense at the time though taken as a whole I was left scratching my head.

This isn't a problem because Bourne packages the whole thing in his usual extremely compelling choreography. Every step is created in the service of story, even the more conventional duets pull the narrative forward in some shape or form. His team of dancers do fine work in bringing this vision to life. The angular choreography for the horrible children is spectacularly well taken by Chloe Wilkinson and Dominic North. North's grimace of a smile sent shivers down my spine. Hannah Vassalo's brilliantly danced Clara didn't really convince as a young girl in an orphanage, but this may have been deliberate as it made some of the more oversexed later scenes seem more appropriate.

A lovely evening that captures the spirit and the magic of the Nutcracker whilst fashioning it into something new and different. If you like Bourne you'll probably like this and if you've never come across Bourne before you'll probably like this to!

(Review of Performance on Monday, January 2nd, 2012 at Sadler's Wells)

Death and the Maiden

2012-01-03T00:24:00.000Z

"Death and the Maiden" is in every respect a play worth reviving but it's a pity that they had to front it with Thandi Newton. I've no problem with celebrity casting, it gets bums on seats, but in this case it undermines what is a harshly effective piece.

Ariel Dorfman's play, first performed at the Royal Court in 1991, is a big, ideas driven show. Dorfman puts these ideas at the heart of the evening, but truly succeeds because he makes the characters both believable and oddly personable. Newton plays Paulina Salas, a woman violently and repeatedly raped some fifteen years ago. When Roberto Miranda, chillingly played by Anthony Calf, turns up on her door she recognises his voice as one of the perpetrators of the crimes against her, beats him up, straps him to a chair and begins her revenge. Whether he is guilty or not remains deliberately unclear and the debate that arises from this scenario is quite brilliantly played out.

Unlike many recent plays, Dorfmann avoids all preachiness. He doesn't judge Salas for her actions and the ambiguity behind Miranda makes him much more than a straightforward villain (indeed he may be entirely innocent). Unfortunately, after opening with some terrific wild eyed madness, Newton's performance as Salas is painfully limited. While Calf and Tom Goodman-Hill, as Salas's husband, go through a roller-coaster of emotions, Newton remains far too composed and far too aloof.

"Death and the Maiden" is a vital play with a continuing relevance to us today. Clive Stafford Smith has written an unusually lucid program article detailing the current global situation and it only enhances the impact of the evening to think of what should have happened since the play's authorship and what actually has. An impact that is weakened by unfortunate central casting, but not lost altogether. The run has now finished but if and when this play comes around again, one can only hope that it might no longer be so relevant.

(Review of Performance on Saturday, December 31st, 2011 at the Harold Pinter Theatre)

Magical Night (ROH2)

2012-01-01T19:06:00.000Z

In amongst the sea of Nutcrackers in London is nestled this little gem of a show. "Magical Night" might have raised artistic interest for its use of Kurt Weill's long lost score, but it's the way the children in the audience reacted that really makes it special.

Aletta Collins has crafted a slight tale, pitched somewhere between Toy Story and Hansel and Gretel, with plenty of wit and in the latter half an increasing sense of adventure. Two children, Megan and Jason, fall asleep to awaken at midnight to all their toys having grown full size, an enchanting if not completely original concept. When Jason is kidnapped by the evil witch Sarah Good, the team go on a mission to rescue him leading to a predictably warm conclusion. Light hearted but with some perfectly judged terror from the Witch. Even at 60 minutes Collins's narrative feels stretched, but from the reactions of the smaller folk in the audience, no one seemed fidgety or bored.

The set and costumes are very clever and very colourful. The contrasting black and white witch's house a stylish bit of staging that got a few ooohs from the smaller ones. Weill's music is suitably creepy whilst maintaining a lyrical quality that made for accessible listening. At first hearing it was well served by the smallish band under James Holmes.

Collins' choreography fits the toys quite brilliantly. Thomasin Gulgec's Chimpy captures a lovely apish quality, clambering over the set with knuckles to the ground and an electrifying capoeira like contemporary style. Alessandra Ruggeri's Tumble Tot did pretty much what you'd expect from her name, rolling about the set like a baby doing gym. I particularly liked WeiChun Luo's fierce Fire Flame and the silently cackling Lorena Randi was a lot of fun.

"Magical Night" is a winning children's show that contains much for adults to enjoy as well. Funny and scary by turns with a genuine sense of danger adding a well needed dose of excitement to proceedings. The run has now finished but if any ROH2 piece deserves a second outing, it's this one.

(Review of Performance on Saturday, December 31st, 2011 at the Royal Opera House, Linbury Studio)

The Nutcracker (Birmingham Royal Ballet)

2011-12-31T23:43:00.001Z

I missed out on the Royal Ballet's O2 Arena excursion (it was slap bang in the middle of my exams) but the prospect of the Birmingham Royal Ballet (BRB) bringing their much lauded "Nutcracker" to London had me champing at the bit. My fourth Nutcracker this Christmas and the one I have been most looking forward to.

The evening inexplicably opened with an embarrassing bit of warbling from Joe McElderry. Why he was there I couldn't fathom but his intonation was terrible and his diction absolutely hideous (has no one introduced him to the concept of consonants???). Mercifully the ballet soon started and he was quickly forgotten but it really was a terrible opening to an otherwise enjoyable evening.

The vast O2 arena isn't an ideal venue for ballet by any stretch of the imagination. The BRB's Nutcracker is on the grandest of scales, the designs by John Macfarlane are glorious, but it is first and foremost a proscenium arch production, ill suited to seating on three sides. The big screen makes up for some of the distance but the sense of immediacy is completely lost when staring at them. What really works are the big corps scenes and the tremendous set transformations, all aided by incredibly well thought out lighting (it must be a nightmare to light this sort of thing and Peter Teigen absolutely nails it).

The dancers naturally get miniaturised, and there were plenty of people in the arena seated much further away than me from the stage, but there was excellent dancing on show. Large scale bravura was the order of the day and Robert Parker's cape swirling Drosselmeyer was a hoot. It's a much less crucial role than in the Peter Wright's Royal Ballet production but Parker made him much more than a one dimensional magician. His cute magic tricks get lost from far away and undermined by the close up video but he sold it all with aplomb.

Clara is pushed centre stage here, she's older than in most productions, and Angela Paul was only passably good. Whether the venue or her performance, few of the emotions crossed the footlights. What material she had was danced cleanly and accurately but I can't say she ever came close to capturing the audience's heart. Iain Mackay danced the prince and with the exception of a wayward solo variation in the Grand Pas de deux made a pretty good fist of scaling his performance up to the venue, his huge grin and broad movements ideal. Jenna Roberts as the Sugar Plum Fairy gets it easy, pitching up just in time for the Pas de deux which she delivered with elegance and beautiful supple limbs, though a bit more flamboyancy wouldn't have gone amiss.

Koen Kessels delivered the overture as if he was worried about making the last train but soon settled down into the luxurious tunes. They'd clearly put some effort into the amplification which for the most part sounded really pretty good.

A gorgeous production, well danced. The O2 arena will never be ideal for this sort of thing but from a brief glance around, the BRB have been very successful at getting a more varied demographic to the ballet than one usually sees in London (albeit with the arena only half sold). Kudos all round. A very lovely "Nutcracker".

(Review of Performance on Friday, December 30th, 2011 at the O2 Arena)

Hamlet

2011-12-31T21:15:00.000Z

To make a genuinely original "Hamlet" you've got to try pretty hard but that doesn't mean doing what Ian Rickson has done with his Young Vic production. He's moulded Michael Sheen into a quite stunning Hamlet but surrounded him with a scenario that makes sense for only about a third of the text and makes a mockery of most of the rest.

Hamlet staged in a madhouse makes sense at cursory glance. The design team have worked some magic, the auditorium carefully transformed into a three sided arena of sorts, with grim grey walls and shadowy lighting ably capturing a dank sense of a dangerous mental hospital. The limp site-specific opening adds little but provides at least a modicum of novelty.

As the first ghostly scene reaches fever pitch the institutional feel almost seems like a masterstroke. However, it soon becomes quite clear that, in order to crowbar the text into the setting, the cast have to deliver Shakespeare's language in a fragmented and frequently awkward fashion. Even with the quirky delivery it's still the case that many lines have to be thrown away to create a modicum of coherence, often unintelligibly thanks to weak diction. Gimmicks are piled on gimmicks and it all leads to the final image, a huge ooooh moment which rapidly gives way to a feeling of "what a load of tripe".

The acting from everyone but Sheen is deeply disappointing, ranging from ok through bad to outright ridiculous in a couple of cases. Rickson engages in some casual sex changing, which creates more confusion than it does illumination (as with much of the evening), Eileen Walsh's Rosencrantz particularly dire. Vinette Robinson started meekly as Ophelia, vanishing into the grey walls, but in Act II conjured a well defined madness with PJ Harvey's haunting new tunes.

The best thing about the show is Sheen. He almost singlehandedly makes the evening worthwhile. A performance of frenetic madness and explosive anger, he's the sort of actor the word magnetic was created for. Sheen alone made sense of the text, finding a stillness that belied the gimmicks around him. No matter what directorial imposition was flung in his general direction he maintained this incredible stage presence that held him above the fray.

Rickson's production has enough theatricality, the blackouts were certainly fun, to sustain across the evening but it all adds up to very little. It's a production that is more about its director than anything else and the end result is confusing and confused. Bravo Sheen, but disappointing in almost all other regards.

(Review of Performance on Thursday, December 29th, 2011 at the Young Vic)

13

2011-12-30T16:18:00.001Z

Mike Bartlett is certainly ambitious. He's turning out plays at an incredible speed and they aren't exactly chamber pieces either. "13" is possibly his most epic yet, though it's also one of his least successful. The sort of play that asks dozens of questions and then just leaves the audience with a closing monologue of, "work it out yourself".

To give 13 a synopsis would be a little pointless as it's basically made up of a dozen, varied characters who have an author but can't find a plot. Bartlett evokes a vaguely dystopian London, not far from where we are today, though this is no lazy name changing exercise in allegory. He starts with the interesting idea that everyone in the city is sharing the same apocalyptic nightmare and uses this as a starting point for a philosophical debate. A debate, I might add, most reminiscent of what I recall from late nights at University after too many pints (and/or shots). Bartlett writes superb dialogue producing three dimensional characters, but as the play comes to a head in the final thirty minutes (the running time is just short of three hours) it rapidly dawns that we're going nowhere.

The disparate characters and narrative threads (a generous description) are all gradually tied together in one way or another, mostly through Trystran Gravelle's soap box orator John. Quite why everyone is so drawn to John is never really explained. Gravelle does his best but what John variously preaches does little to explain why he would become a modern day prophet. On the opposite side of the debate are Geraldine James as a fictional Tory prime minister and Danny Webb as a Christopher Hitchen's styled atheist who lend a rare balance to the evening which takes no sides. In the end however, we get a very long discussion between John, the prime minister and Webb's atheist, that fascinates for its duration before you realise that practically nothing original has been said. The most emotive sequence comes from Genevieve O'Reilly's sleep deprived mother whose actions genuinely shock.

Naturally, the National Theatre have wrapped up Bartlett's script in their typically brilliant fashion. A huge rotating box emerges from the blackness to conjure a world trapped somewhere between the present and "Blade Runner". Thea Sharrock's direction achieves an impressive fluidity, the fragmented scenes smoothly shifting from one to the next, with tremendous lighting and some clever effects. Closing the first half with something of a "Defying Gravity" moment, whenever the text labours, Sharrock has something swishy to hold our attention.

Despite all my reservations and criticisms: "13", as with all of Bartlett's work, is definitely worth a look. It ultimately goes pretty much nowhere, the questioning ending a cop out that might have worked were the questions not so Philosophy 101, but the journey has enough theatrical invention, engaging characters and choice dialogue to make the final disappointment palatable. Not the State of the Nation play it yearns to be, but an exciting few hours.

(Review of Performance on Thursday, December 29th, 2011 at the National Theatre, Olivier)

Noises Off

2011-12-30T11:41:00.000Z

There's nothing better than a well written, well performed farce. "Noises Off" at the Old Vic ticks all the boxes. I have hugely fond, rose tinted memories of its last outing at the National Theatre and in almost all regards this revival lives up to those memories.

Great farce works because beneath the pratfalls and puns you find yourself caring for the people involved. "Noises Off" is executed quite exquisitely in this regard, the second the laughter stops (which isn't often), sadness seeps through. The behind the scenes of theatre set-up is quite brilliant. We see the same Act One of a fictional farce called "Nothing On" played first in rehearsal, then from backstage and finally from the front several months later. We come to love these touring professionals as their various "real life" problems wreak havoc both on and off-stage.

The precision with which Michael Frayn constructed "Noises Off" is quite incredible but it takes a top notch cast to carry the whole thing off. Working as a well oiled machine, the Old Vic's troupe could not be bettered. Jonathan Coy, an exemplar of farce, makes Frederick's crushing lack of confidence so vivid that running round the stage with his trousers around his ankles becomes as distressing as it is hysterical. Jamie Glover's Gary takes tied shoelaces to a new apotheosis without ever losing what makes him real. Amy Nuttall just spends most of the evening in her undies looking like an adorable rabbit in the headlights. Robert Glenister produces the sarcastic beast that is the director Lloyd and it is his interactions with several of the women that really brings home the play's darker side.

From Act One to Act One to Act One (with one interval, we are told in the programme, between Act One and Act One) the laughter never stops coming. To be fair, I'm such a small child that I find people falling over hysterical, but the balance between the actors' despair and their desperate need that the show must go on brings the laughter to new heights.

(Review of Performance on Wednesday, December 28th, 2011 at the Old Vic Theatre)

Die Meistersinger von Nurnberg (Royal Opera)

2011-12-29T11:55:00.002Z

There's a lingering feeling in Graham Vick's extremely pleasant production that many of the most interesting aspects of Wagner's "Die Meistersinger von Nurnberg" are being papered over. Much fun is had by all, musical standards fairly high, but as Act III kicked in a gnawing feeling developed that the big issues were being ignored.

Vick paints the whole evening in a rosy glow. With the exception of the faintly humorous period costuming (the enormous codpieces are a hoot), it's a very straightforward production. Plain, gently coloured sets and stage craft that emphasises story over deeper meaning. Little that could be described as political emerges, even the infamous Hans Sachs' speech comes and goes without raising many eyebrows. The laughs largely fall in the right places but Vick searches for little more than just those laughs.

For this Christmas revival the Royal Opera have pulled out most of the stops musically. The casting is impressively deep, when you've got people like John Tomlinson, Robert Lloyd and Toby Spence in the smaller roles you know the casting director has gone the extra mile, but the principal trio all had their weaknesses. Wolfgang Koch displays an extremely well schooled Bass-Baritone, taking a steady approach throughout with hardly a hint of strain across the whole evening. He produces a lovely sound and acted in a detailed, thoughtful manner. Despite all this, his Hans Sachs came across remarkably uninteresting, even boring. I find it difficult to really put my finger on quite why he's so difficult to engage with, but Koch lacks the stage presence to turn his impressive performance into a compelling one.

Simon O'Neill Walther had his own quirks. He is a consistent performer, finishing in much the same vocal shape he began the evening, and his intonation is pretty faultless. He's fairly eye-catching when on-stage, even fidgety at times, yet his singing is often pinched and not especially beautiful. In the global stakes he's up with the very best, but that is in some ways just a reflection of what's available at the moment. I sort of loved Emma Bell's Eva though her vocal maturity played against character. Warmly sung and engagingly performed I was fairly smitten.

In the smaller roles this really was terrific. Spence offered a meticulously sung David. He wowed in the long and difficult "rules aria", he just made it seem easy. Tomlinson claimed the role of Pogner as his own, his increasingly gruff tones shaping the part into a effectively aged Mastersinger (too old probably but if we're to pick over ages this cast was all over the place). Peter Coleman-Wright was a solid Beckmesser though the physical comedy of Act III didn't seem natural to him. There wasn't a weak Mastersinger, high praise to the Royal Opera for assembling them.

The real show piece of the evening was Antonio Pappano and the Royal Opera House Orchestra's heroic efforts in the pit. Having spent a great deal of time at the Metropolitan Opera House recently it's easy to hear just how lovely the ROH's acoustics are. Even in the amphitheater I felt like I was sitting next to the orchestra and what a bounteous, wonderful sound they produce. Taking his cue from the production Pappano drives the evening forward with thrilling bounce, Act III's slow prelude comes as a bit of a shock as a result but overall Pappano has the measure of this music.

In aiming lower than perhaps he should, Vick ensured that taking this production on its own merits it's difficult to feel disappointed. Deeply pleasurable if not hugely thought provoking. Well sung if not spectacularly, but driven home by some terrific orchestral playing and a swelled chorus on fine form.

(Review of Performance on Tuesday, December 27th, 2011 at the Royal Opera House)

The Nutcracker (English National Ballet)

2011-12-28T22:50:00.000Z

My Christmas Nutcracker fest continues with the English National Ballet's Edwardian take on the tale. New last season, it is an elegant, plush show that has plenty of original elements and an unusually coherent narrative. The dancing wasn't always as sharp as one might like but it didn't prevent this being an extremely enjoyable evening.

Wayne Eagling takes the standard Nutcracker tale and gives it a kick. Large gone is the split structure of plot in Act I and dance in Act II. Here we get a more fluent, consistent narrative that keeps its villain, the Rat King, until the end (not completely believably it must be said) rather than killing him off midway through Act I. Eagling uses the, not exactly original, conceit of having much of the narrative take place in Clara's dream which connects enough of the dots to make the evening fly. These are strengths, but there are some weaknesses too. Patches of choreography feel unfocused, the Battle scene goes as far as to look unfinished, and the Act II dances vary in quality. The duet for the mirliton's is lovely but the Arabian borders on the creepy (though not quite as creepy as the outright weird ABT version).

After the rather more spartan US productions the Peter Farmer designs are gloriously plush. Few designers can work such magic with cloth, traditional to the hilt but with humming with vibrancy. The tree transformation is disappointing (another feeble fabric tree) and appeared to be faulty, raising jerkily, but there was a simple but effective shift into the snow scenes. The lighting is a touch dark at times but had some flashy effects that actually managed to lift the otherwise weak Battle scene to something semi-exciting.

The dancing was good though only Erina Takahashi, as adult Clara, stunned. I haven't seen much of Takahashi before but at this performance her poise and grace were simply astounding. She was partnered unevenly by Esteban Berlanga, who had the right air about him but never fully seemed in control of either Takahashi or his own steps. James Streeter's Drosselmeyer was one of the best I've seen. Much younger than usual but he had just the right twinkle in his eye to capture the audience's, and Clara's, imagination. Of the rest there wasn't a lot that stood out, a decent snowflake corps though Eagling's choreography is at its most rudimentary here, lots of running around to little overall effect. Ksenia Ovsyanick excelled in several small soloist roles: lovely, long leg extensions that stood out even more for the speed and precision with which she shifted to them. As the child Clara, Grace Carr suggested she had the makings of a future star.

A throughly enjoyable Nutcracker. Elements could be tightened, the Rat King's various escapes just don't look right, and hopefully will be in future revivals, but the overall effect is a joyous one. Alex Ingram beat the best rendition of the score I've heard so far this year, reveling in the wonderful tunes whilst being hugely sympathetic to his dancers. A first rate cracker.

(Review of Performance on Monday, December 26th, 2011 at the London Coliseum)

The Animals and Children Took to the Streets

2011-12-28T14:27:00.000Z

I'm back in the UK and naturally headed straight to the subsidised sector. Oh how I've missed you National Theatre. Admittedly, "The Animals and Children Took to the Streets" by 1927 isn't really a National production, but that didn't stop it being just a touch awesome.

"The Animals and Children" has a loose narrative, one involving a mother searching for her daughter with the help of a depressed Caretaker, but it's largely made up of an eclectic range of vignette like scenes centering around a fictional city and its grubbiest district "The Bayou Mansions". The piece has a fairytale quality but one laced with poison that evokes an air not dissimilar to Improbable's "Shockheaded Peter" of a few years back. The songs, by Lillian Henley, are terrific toe tapping cabaret tunes with biting, satirical lyrics. The performances are as stunning as you could expect, all three performers Henley, Suzanne Andrade and Esme Appleton also devised and wrote the piece.

Whilst the script and lyrics are hugely effective, ultimately it's the visuals that you'll be discussing as you leave the theatre. 1927 play with film and projections like few others I've come across. While the Lepages of this world move mountains with incredible technology, 1927, in many regards, strip the medium right back to basics. Using just three projectors and some blank walls, the three performers interact elegantly with the imagery, a heady blend of silent cinema and cabaret, to tremendous effect. Paul Barritt's animations wriggle their way to life, reveling in fantastical settings and packed with bleak but endlessly witty sight gags.

The novelty value of "Animals and Children" is such that objective analysis is pretty much a lost cause. The material felt strong but I was so overwhelmed by the visuals that in retrospect they could have been reading the phone book. The idea behind the imagery is so strong however that I suspect 1927 have the scope to grow to something special. As it is, "Animals and Children" is quite the show and for eighty minutes I was totally entranced.

(Review of Performance on Friday, December 23rd, 2011 at the National Theatre, Cottesloe.)

The Nutcracker (American Ballet Theatre)

2011-12-27T15:02:00.000Z

After my opening Nutcracker trip to the New York City Ballet , next on my list (and the final show I'll be catching in the U.S. till after the New Year) was American Ballet Theatre's "Nutcracker". Recently made by Alexei Ratmansky, premiering last Christmas, this is a very different affair from the more strictly classical Balanchine production.

Ratmansky takes a Matthew Bourne-like approach to much of Act I, the choreographic palette more about telling story than anything else. Ratmansky uses many children, including an adorable tiny rat, but gives much more scope for the adults to shine than the Balanchine production, particularly in the opening kitchen scene. So far so good. The evening sadly nosedives in quality after the battle scene with a bizarrely aggressive collection of snowflakes that completely saps the beauty from Tchaikovsky's music. Remarkably things only get worse in Act II, the National dances a blancmange of sickly sweet hideousness, and finally a Grand Pas de deux of hollow flash. After setting up the story strongly in the opening scenes, Ratmansky loses the plot completely. Drosselmeyer is sidelined to the extent he becomes a cipher and frankly also a bit of a creep. Ratmansky's choreography has a real knack for being so frenetic and fussy that even the world class dancers of ABT end up looking average.

The designs for Act I work effectively: Clara's house has the feeling of a scaled up doll's house with big simple furniture and a fun, spikey Christmas tree. The transformation is disappointing, a magic free affair, and the leaden Act I closing snowflake scene not much better, but at least Act I has a common visual thread. Act II struggles as much in the designs as it does in the choreography. A hideous blue and yellow land of the sweets packed with characters wearing outrageously camp costumes (the pink baubled jerkins particularly vomit inducing).

Throughout the evening the dancing was much better than the choreography deserved. Xiomara Reyes and Herman Cornejo a scrummy pairing as the adult Clara and Nutcracker. They fared best in Ratmansky's interesting extra duet for the couple in Act I (just before the snowflakes) but neither looked completely at ease. Cornejo unleashed some textbook batterie but lacked buoyancy in his jumps whilst Reyes just didn't seem comfortable at all. The Act II Pas de deux has a series of lifts that would test anyone and here they looked effortful at best. The rest of the cast did their best with a bad lot. The Act II dances are ugly, tacky creations that were danced capably. Whoever thought the inexplicably kinky Arabian dance was a good idea should have their head examined. Musical standards were bleak, poor tuning in the strings throughout and an embarrassing midi version of a children's' choir.

Despite a decent enough star, Ratmansky's "Nutcracker" is both unattractive and thin. Full of huge lifts and jumps at the expense of all tenderness and soul. There's some fun to be had in places and much of the dancing was first rate but as a whole this isn't a production I'll remember with any fondness. If you're in New York, the NYCB remains the place to get your annual Nutcracker dose.

(Review of Performance on Sunday, December 18th, 2011 at the Brooklyn Academy of Music)

Faust (Metropolitan Opera)

2011-12-24T22:05:00.003Z

When this Des McAnuff Production opened in London it was not well received. I wasn't in town at the time but am fortunate to have been able to catch it in New York. Fortunate for the absolutely stellar casting anyway, the production is, as has been widely commented, a total damp squib.

To get the grubby bit out the way, the staging is hopeless but for the most part pretty non-intrusive. Gounod's opera is essentially the standard Faust legend, as popularised by Marlowe and Goethe amongst others, which McAnuff refocuses slightly. Faust is recast as a distraught elderly physicist, broken by the impact of the atomic bomb on Hiroshima and his hand in its creation. This theme almost works for Act I and hints at something greater in Act V but in the face of making no sense through Acts II, III and IV, McAnuff comes pretty close to dropping it all together. He can't quite decide what to do with Gounod's sappy religiosity and despite interesting early imagery, wounded civilians becoming ghoulish creatures, he fails to wed his ideas to the specifics of the text.

We get lots of generic, vaguely 40s costumes, with dapper suits for Mephistopheles, against generic metal backgrounds. The multileveled set mixes things up a bit, two spiral staircases and accompanying walkways offering some interesting character interactions, but doesn't really justify its existence beyond providing basic settings. There are some slick projections but nothing you won't have seen before and artistically they add little. All in all, the staging is a failure by doing nothing right, more than doing anything wrong.

On the flip side this was musically the finest evening I've heard at the Met this season. Pierre Vallet, a member of the Met's music staff on his conducting debut, came through quite radiantly. Delivering a superb orchestral performance that supported the singers to produce a near total musical success. Jonas Kaufmann is the tenor du jour and whilst his dark, covered voice isn't a perfect fit for Faust, his thoughtful singing is second to none in any role. He acts impeccably and maintains a quite gorgeous tone throughout his range, blooming magnificently at the top. Rene Pape stole the evening however, with not just superlative singing but a deliciously charismatic performance of devilish glee. The sheer fun he appeared to be having was infectious. He inexplicably balanced thrilling recklessness with faultless control, "Le veau d'or" was an utter triumph. Marina Poplavskaya is a singer who seems to grow on me every time I hear her. There's still considerable steel in her soprano but it has warmed over the last few years. The mature sound worked against her in the early Acts but brought mighty impact in the closing stages, Her "Il ne revient pas" the most moving aria in the evening.

The supporting cast were nearly as strong, Michele Losier an enchanting Siebel and Russell Braun an extremely able if slightly undersized Valentin. Wendy White was producing her usual excellence as Martha before a backstage accident brought her evening to a close. She was rushed to hospital but I am told was not too badly injured and after an extra interval (the performance didn't finish till well after midnight) Theodora Hanslowe capably finished off the role.

A case of great music conquering all directorial failings. Gounod's "Faust" may not be the last word in dramatic sense but it has enough rousing tunes and evocative melodies to more than puncture the iciest of hearts, especially when played and sung so meticulously well. This production is getting two more Fausts which, on paper at least, means it'll have received three more stunning casts than it deserves. At least McAnuff appears to have realised he got in wrong, and left the singers to their own devices.

(Review of Performance on Saturday, December 17th, 2011 at the Metropolitan Opera)

Amahl and the Night Visitors (The Little Orchestra Society)

2011-12-23T18:46:00.000Z

The very existence of The Little Orchestra Society makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. Entering into the Avery Fisher Hall for an operatic performance to see it thronging with Children is an experience not often repeated. "Amahl and the Night Visitors" by Menotti is a gem of an opera: accessibly tuneful but serious in its intent.

A gentle moral tale of a distinctly Christmassy nature, Amahl is easy enough for the youngest of viewers to follow but original enough to stay interesting for the more mature (if young at heart!). A young crippled boy and his mother are visited in the middle of the night by three kings. These kings are bearing gifts across the desert, led by a star, to find a newly born child. So far, so biblical. What follows is predictable enough, including a divine intervention of sorts, but utterly charming no matter what your faith. There's nothing sacred about Menotti's music either, it drives the evening with a sweetly lyrical flow.

The Little Orchestra Society have produced the opera in a lovely fashion with a small picturesque set sitting on a raised platform above and behind the visible orchestra. The designs are dominated by bright, primary colours, the three kings flamboyantly dressed with huge headpieces. The dance sequences and movement of the principals worked remarkably well considering the tiny acting space.

The conductor Edwin Outwater opened the evening with a brief, child friendly speech settling the more rambunctious patrons down before leading an impressive account of this music (with the odd exception the chatter during the performance was minimal, far less than at the Met's Hansel and Gretel). The small chorus enchanted and all the principals sang with a clarity that ensured the lack of surtitles was not a problem. There was some amplification, which detracted a little, but it wasn't a huge problem as it was mostly tactfully done. In the title role Benjamin Wenzelberg proved himself a little star: bell-like voice and stage dominating presence. Nina Yoshida Nelsen proved vocally attractive but a touch heavy, overpowering at the expense of others. She acted well, getting laughs for her rejection of Amahl's protestations of kings at the door. The three kings Jeffrey Halili, David Kravitz and Donovan Singletary were simply first rate.

An absolutely terrific performance. Seeing young children so fully involved in an operatic performance was as thrilling as what was happening on-stage. A performance tailored to the young but in no way dumbed down. I'll be making an effort to catch other Little Orchestra Society performances, I couldn't recommend them more highly.

(Review of Performance on Saturday, December 17th, 2011 at the Avery Fisher Hall)

Hansel and Gretel (Metropolitan Opera)

2011-12-21T20:58:00.002Z

I love Humperdinck's "Hansel and Gretel" (here delivered in English). It's an opera that somehow touches the heart and the funny bone through delicious Wagnerian grandeur. Alas Richard Jones's Metropolitan Opera production is rather cleverer than it is charming, and whilst the cast and conductor are strong at this revival, the evening sounded somewhat under-rehearsed.

Hansel and Gretel is at its heart a very dark fairytale and Jones pitches his production at the gloomiest of levels. Dark lighting and grim, spartan sets. Jones takes food and cooking as his main theme, each Act taking place in a kitchen. He uses startling front cloths, huge gaping mouths and plates variously smashed and covered in blood. Much of this works, it's certainly an eye catching production, particularly the off-angle Act II with bizarre human trees and fat waiters, but it's also rather static and not particularly thrilling. The staging often limits movement, particularly in the tiny Act I cottage, and doesn't always pay much regard to narrative sense, to give just one example, the parents walk into the Witch's kitchen at the end completely oblivious to where they are. The production also fails to capitalise on the big moments, the smashed jug a blink and you missed it moment, the Witch's death weakly staged.

Musically the casting looked to be strong but the evening didn't completely pan out. I've been lucky enough to hear Robin Ticciati conduct this opera magnificently in several other houses and this wasn't really his night. Sounding under-rehearsed, the Met Orchestra meandered through the music finding neither the epic sweep nor the plucky textures that make this score sing. Aleksandra Kurzak and Kate Lindsey were a game pair as the title characters. Both sang cleanly, Kurzak has a quite gorgeous voice, but it was their commitment to the characters' movement that really leapt off the stage. Lindsey's dancing was just plain brilliant. Dwayne Croft was a classy Father though Michaela Marten was a solid but forgettable Mother. Robert Brubaker made a fair crack at the Witch, but came across flat and rather uninteresting. The production demands a larger than life Witch and Brubaker hinted at one without fully capturing the wicked glee.

An enjoyable but disappointing evening. Jones' inventive production lacks real magic and musically the show hummed along never really finding the highs that this opera is capable of. The extremely young audience, packed with children, didn't seem to find much scary but fidgeting was noticeable. The Met has been treading water recently, I do hope things pick up in the New Year.

(Review of Performance on Friday, December 16th, 2011 at the Metropolitan Opera)

Standing on Ceremony - The Gay Marriage Plays

2011-12-19T17:30:00.003Z

The gender swapping "On A Clear Day" that I caught just hours before "Standing on Ceremony - The Gay Marriage Plays", says much for how far gay rights have come in the last fifty years. This collection of witty, insightful and moving plays is reminder that the United States hasn't come nearly far enough. As a collection, the plays are remarkably coherent and consistent, in fact I have no wish to pick out individual works such is their collective strength. There are no flops and many standout moments.

The six performers read from scripts though all seemed to pretty much know the texts by heart. Most of the plays are limited to a couple of performers and none stretch to more than ten odd minutes in length but each captures a certain aspect of what it means to be in a relationship, married or otherwise (gay or otherwise). There's a heady strain of sentimentality throughout the evening but it's so well packaged that it would be impossible to complain.

The cast are superb performers, bringing characters to life in an instant such that each brief play gains a three dimensional significance. Harriet Harris looms large as a series of slightly deranged women. Polly Draper and Beth Leavel spark off each other, the pair's chemistry a heartwarming delight. The men charm in much the same way, Richard Thomas delivering a magnificent, and hugely moving, memorial that had the audience laughing and weeping simultaneously. Craig Bierko and Mark Consuelos deliver an impossibly charming and often funny series of couples.

A thoroughly enjoyable evening with a strong, heartfelt message. It's easy for cause driven plays to get bogged down in issues at the expense of the audience, "Standing on Ceremony" works because above all, it's about characters and situations that you can believe in and care about. Now closed unfortunately but hopefully at least some of these works will rise again in the future.

(Review of Performance on Thursday, December 14th, 2011 at the Minetta Lane Theater)

On A Clear Day You Can See Forever

2011-12-16T21:59:00.003Z

"On A Clear Day You Can See Forever" (OACDYCSF, about the worst acronym in history...) is a bizarre curio of a musical. So odd that even with Harry Connick Jr. starring, I'm amazed anyone was prepared to invest in it. Totally weird but not particularly wonderful.

"On A Clear Day" tells of a psychiatrist, Mark Bruckner, who discovers that his patient when under hypnosis appears to become another person. The psychiatrist promptly falls in love with this subconscious person, who it transpires is in fact a real, deceased person who has been reincarnated. If that description made any sense then it's only because I've left out so many details, "On A Clear Day" is basically totally nonsensical. Mayer has added to this confusion by making the patient male and the previous incarnation female adding a whole philosophical layer of gender bending that is sort of interesting but totally contrived.

Whilst the plot labors under the weight of supernatural codswallop, what really harms the evening is how dislikable Bruckner gradually becomes. Purporting to be a love story, and there are a couple of terrific melodies in the mix, but buried beneath such unethical behavior that it's difficult to connect. When the hugely charismatic Connick Jr. can't make a character sympathetic you've got to worry. The songbook is tuneful in an undemanding sort of way but in no way justifies setting this daft story to music (you'll be spending all your brain power trying to work out what on earth the point of it all is anyway).

Mayer's production sits somewhere between Mad Men and Hair, achieving neither the gloss of the first or the energy of the second. Much of the evening exists as pretty close to a chamber piece, the brightly coloured, psychedelic set struggling to fill what is too big a theatre for this piece. The performances are first rate, Connick Jr. doing the best he can with the weak material. All praise to Jessie Mueller's luscious Melinda, an extremely fine singer and whilst David Turner's David suffered from one-dimensionality, he did beautifully with what he was given.

I can't for the life of me understand why anyone bothered putting "On A Clear Day" back on Broadway. Mayer has put a lot of effort into the contemporary reinvention but excellent as it is to see such a positive gay theme in a Broadway musical it doesn't in any way justify what is a ham-fisted, cod-philosophical, play with pretty music. Best avoided.

(Review of Performance on Wednesday, December 14th, 2011 at the St. James Theatre)

La Fille du Regiment (Metropolitan Opera)

2011-12-15T23:33:00.002Z

Laurent Pelly's "La Fille du Regiment" production was created and then shipped around the world essentially as a vehicle for Juan Diego Florez and Natalie Dessay. Now revived almost as a standard repertory piece, its sheen has somewhat worn off. Solidly cast but lacking the star wattage that made it shine so brightly originally.

"La Fille du Regiment" is a gentle, fluffy tale of an orphan girl raised by soldiers. Her true identity soon emerges leading to all manner of operatic shenanigans and complications. Musically there is much to enjoy here including the barrage of high Cs in "Ah! Mes Amis", though the delightful array of arias never quite finds anything one might describe as substantial. A lightweight comedy through and through but to contemporary audiences much of the verbal humour falls a little flat.

Which is why Pelly's pantomimish production creates humour wherever the opera itself fails to. He shifts the setting forward to World War I with the action playing out on mini mountains created by the folds of oversized maps. He plays up the physical comedy wherever possible, lots of slapstick humour that unfortunately looked a touch forced on opening night. The dragged up cleaning ladies are still a treat but the overall effect of the tomfoolery lacked the insouciant joy that it had originally.

The casting lacks star power, and to an extent the charisma that came with the previous inhabitants of these parts, but you couldn't fault the leading pair for trying. Lawrence Brownlee, tackling the tough tenor role, looked and sounded a little nervous. Some passages, particularly early on, sounded pressured and uneasy, but he slowly revealed a voice of some loveliness. He hit the big notes, particularly in Act II, with superb evenness of tone. Paired with Nino Machaidze, the romance and flirtation didn't emerge as it should, but once first night nerves are shed I suspect they'll warm up together. Machaidze has an impressive, full voiced soprano but one that occasionally develops an overblown, warbly quality especially when she fired out her upper register notes. She scored highly in my book for the commitment with which she tackled the pratfalls, but too often these sequences felt choreographed rather than natural. It was a problem across the evening with principals and chorus not nearly as comfortable in the production as they need to be. Machaidze French is better not mentioned.

The supporting players were all strong singers though the interplay wasn't a highlight for any of the performers. Maurizio Muraro delivered a robust but dreary Sulpice; Ann Murray, his partner is crime, is a top notch performer, but as with the young lovers there were few sparks between the two. Kiri Te Kanawa takes a different, more traditional, tack than Dawn French did in the insane overbearing Dame of the evening, eliciting fewer laughs overall but offering a tuneful bit of Puccini to great delight. Yves Abel earned little applause, leading a thoroughly leaden and imprecise account of Donizetti's vibrant music.

Despite the quality of the production and cast, stripped of the sheen brought by the original pair (who had the great advantage of having the production made on them), this "La Fille du Regiment" is only sporadically the spectacular entertainment it was before. An enjoyable evening but one lacking the delectable perfection of its previous runs.

(Review of Performance on Monday, December 12th, 2011 at the Metropolitan Opera)

The Nutcracker (New York City Ballet)

2011-12-13T20:51:00.000Z

I'm going to sound like I've lost the spirit of Christmas when I say the New York City Ballet's (NYCB) production of "The Nutcracker" is a bit of a damp squib. This Balanchine production is more than fifty years old and frankly it's showing it.

The real trouble is that the first half contains miserably little dance. Balanchine places a strong focus on the children, even Clara and the Nutcracker are played by Children, which is cutesy but not hugely rewarding as it limited the choreographic variation to hopping and skipping. Scrappy dancing overwhelmed the adorability factor. The always shaky narrative isn't particularly well told, partly a failure of the performers especially Robert La Fosse's absurd Drosselmeyer. There's little eye candy in the rather staid, simple sets. The Christmas tree transformation is cheap looking, a wobbly, fabric tree, followed by a tacky set of rats and it isn't till the closing snow scene that we final get some substantive choreography.

Act II is vastly stronger with more dance and a single, extremely effective design. The various National/Food dances were well taken; Daniel Ulbricht and Robert Fairchild ably demonstrating their explosive technique. Andrew Veyette and Tiler Peck produced a majestic pairing, his staunch partnering and her effortless brilliance bringing an excitement that was entirely absent from the rest of the evening.

Inexplicably provincial in many regards, Act I looks like an aging, second rate, touring production, though the evening luckily looks up dramatically in Act II. Well danced by the adult cast, though the acting never escaped cod arm waving, but the demands placed on the kids left much looking scrappy. I'm meandering through a bumper crop of Nutcrackers this Christmas, the NYCB haven't set the bar nearly as high as I'd hoped they would.

(Review of Performance on Wednesday, December 7th, 2011 at the David H. Koch Theater)

Bonnie and Clyde

2011-12-10T18:52:00.000Z

"Bonnie and Clyde" is the latest attempt by Frank Wildhorn to conquer Broadway (his list of flops is quite spectacular). It's also cruising to be yet another commercial failure, though not in this case a complete artistic failure. Which is not to say "Bonnie and Clyde" is really all that good. It's just alright: well paced, performed and polished.

For those who know Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow from the movies you'll probably be disappointed by the tale told here. The creative team have sought to create something closer to reality and the result is a crime story stripped of glamour and excitement. Few leading men have been quite as dislikable as Clyde, here rendered as a grubby crook and not much more. Set during the terrible years of the great depression it should be easy to sympathise with the plight of the characters, but the forced balance, the cops and robbers treated with even hands, has the effect of making no one much of a hero. Interesting but not very involving.

Wildhorn delivers a thoroughly predictable score of one-dimensional Americana. It's all pretty likeable but lacks genuine character. The bluesy, jazzy tone is fairly well maintained though the ballads often slip into Wildhorn's more usual drippy, orchestral style. The lyrics offer little to write home about though like everything else about this musical they're perfectly serviceable.

The production and performances are decent but not a lot more. The use of genuine, period images, projected on the set, is brilliant but otherwise we get generic, wooden slat designs that could be used for just about any vaguely Western show. The staging is oddly compressed, confining the performers to small areas of the stage: the two principal female characters, Bonnie and Blanche spend an awful lot of time standing still whilst staring mournfully out into the audience. Explosive blood effects are the only thing to enliven this plain production.

It's easy to praise the quality of the singing: Laura Osnes, Jeremy Jordan, Melissa Van Der Schyff and Claybourne Elder delivering Wildhorn's music with aplomb but the acting is little more than passable. Jordan is a good looking chap but his Clyde suffers from a severe charisma deficit.

"Bonnie and Clyde" is difficult to dislike but virtually impossible to love. An evening of not particularly nice people variously shooting each other strung together by an limp love story between two rather dull people. There's nothing horrifically wrong with any of this but you'll be hard pressed to care. Almost certainly closing soon but there's little point in rushing to see it.

(Review of Performance on Tuesday, December 6th, 2011 at the Schoenfeld Theatre)

Madama Butterfly (Metropolitan Opera)

2011-12-06T04:21:00.001Z

"Madama Butterfly" at the Met you would expect to be a safe, repertory performance. In the hands of Placido Domingo however, it was a decidedly mixed bag. Moments of strength mixed with moments where singers and conductor sounded like they were singing off different scores.

The Anthony Minghella "Madama Butterfly" production remains one of the most stunning beautiful bits of theatre I have had the fortune to see. Simple in many ways but lovingly crafted with spellbinding stark lighting, gorgeous costumes and inventive puppetry. Past the visuals it isn't the deepest of productions however. Too often the production, now lovingly tended by Carolyn Choa, Minghella's widow, finds beauty to the detriment of concentrating the drama. The puppet Sorrow is a magnificent creation but the character is introduced so late in proceedings that by the time you fully accustom to the Bunraku convention the evening ends.

Domingo was in the pit and for a singer first and conductor second he paid remarkably little heed to his singers. He was all over the place at the start, soon settling into competence but not infrequently picked tempi that seemed to come as news to the principals. Leading very much from the front was Liping Zhang's tremendous Butterfly. Zhang is dream visual casting looking incredibly young and innocent. She pairs this apparent immaturity with a soprano of sumptuous wealth and colour. "Un Bel Di" was wrecked by pit/stage cohesion (or lack thereof) but by and large this was an excellent performance.

Less impressive was Robert Dean Smith's underwhelming Pinkerton. Considering how strong he can sound in heavier repertory his tenor came across remarkably meek here, thinning dramatically as he launched himself at the big, sustained notes. He warmed up a little in Act II but it wasn't a performance to remember. Luca Salsi sang a warmly attractive Sharpless. A bit young really, but he sold the role well enough. Maria Zifchak delivered a robust Suzuki while Luthando Qave, on debut, briefly demonstrated a handsome, if slightly undersized, vocal.

The evening never really hit the highs it might because the musical experience was so inconsistent. Domingo is no great conductor and whilst he handled the orchestra well enough, he essentially failed to manage the stage. A deeply attractive production but one whose overall impact never quite matches its beauty. A solid evening but one that would have to be described as below par.

(Review of Performance on Monday, December 5th, 2011 at the Metropolitan Opera)

Lysistrata Jones

2011-12-04T21:44:00.001Z

Wandering into "Lysistrata Jones" I must confess I was hoping for the next "Legally Blonde". A college comedy shot through with dirty humour, slick dance routines and hum along tunes. Unfortunately whilst "Lysistrata" has plenty of strong elements, it hangs together as a rather middling whole.

The narrative is loosely inspired by Aristophanes' "Lysistrata", a play about a group of women who swear off sex to try and encourage their husbands to lay down their arms. Here we get college girls doing something similar in the rather less lofty quest to get the college basketball team to win a game. Their sex strike leads to a predictable male/female rift with well signposted results. It's a neat theme and offers the creative team plenty of room for fun which they partially take.

Douglas Carter Beane's book cleverly riffs on contemporary themes, dragging in neat iphone references and even a Herman Cain jibe, but struggles to maintain the flow of jokes. There are just too many in-jokes that are delivered in a manner that suggests they are funnier than they actually are. The score suffers drom a similar uneven quality and is bereft of a take home tune. The upbeat group numbers have a certain pizzazz but the generic ballads take the audience nowhere.

I didn't see this when it was a site-specific show in an actual gym, but transposed to a conventional proscenium the designs are efficient but unremarkable. The opening image, paired with rumbling bass which quite literally shook my chair, had real impact but most of the action takes place in a spare gym setting with the band raised along the back. It all works, the various locales effectively produced, but is unlikely to be taking home any awards for originality.

The young cast are the best thing about "Lysistrata". Patti Murin has all the right sass for the title role. A strong singer and dancer, she can't make all the jokes fly but it's not for want of trying. Josh Segarra drifts dangerously into stereotype as the dumb but not dumb school stud. Singing at pitch wasn't always a strength either but he's mostly a capable singer. Liz Mikel lords over proceedings as a one woman Greek chorus and occasional Brothel Madam. A full-blooded performance of brassy brilliance.

"Lysistrata Jones" is reasonable Broadway fare but there's little to set it apart from the rest. The only reason to dash to it is the fact it probably won't be around for long. Cheap tickets are easy to come by and at current, discount, prices this is good, if forgettable, fun.

(Review of the Preview Performance on Saturday, December 3rd, 2011 at the Walter Kerr Theatre)

Satyagraha (Metropolitan Opera)

2011-12-02T04:46:00.001Z

"Satyagraha", as delivered through the minds of Improbable, is a fascinating, beautiful, even mesmerising evening's theatre. The trade off is that it's so opaque that it becomes so much easier to admire rather than love. Haunting minimalism that never quite grabs the heart or mind.

18 months ago I didn't much like this at all. Second time around, I still have serious reservations though going in with a different mindset and far greater knowledge, I enjoyed "Satyagraha" so much more. The opera loosely explores episodes from Ghandi's life in South Africa but does so in an almost totally non-narrative, abstract form. The libretto is taken from the Bhagavad Gita, sung in Sanskrit, and doesn't directly relate to Ghandi. A gorgeous sounding language but one whose depth of meaning can only barely be grasped here. We get visual clues as to the events of each given scene but good luck working this out without reading synopses and the libretto beforehand: the evening is heavily reliant on the audience swotting up in advance.

Whatever you think of the opera itself, Phelim McDermott and Julian Crouch have put together a fantastical staging of immense invention and wonder. Designed entirely out of corrugated iron and newspaper, the relentless conjuring of images is quite miraculous. Huge lumbering puppets appear from seemingly nowhere, at one point sticky tape is used to generate a twenty foot high humanoid creature. It's a production that fits Philip Glass's music perfectly, echoing its shifting patterns with an impossible degree of elegance.

Musical standards were high. Dante Anzolini has spent a lot of time with Glass's music and it shows. The ebb and tide beautifully drawn out by the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra. All the vocals were strong though the night belongs solely to Richard Croft's gloriously sung Ghandi. He and Anzolini meshed wonderfully, his long closing solo the highlight of the evening.

As an opera I still have misgivings about the true impact this has on its audience. Obfuscated to such a degree that the message gets lost. However the night was given a real kick as the audience left the theatre to see Occupy Wall Street protesting outside. A collision of such artistic brilliance that no one could have dreamt it up. A triumph of a production, but an opera whose inaccessibility is its downfall.

(Review of Performance on Thursday, December 1st, 2011 at the Metropolitan Opera)

Spider-man - Turn Off The Dark

2011-12-01T03:35:00.001Z

Last year the buzz around "Spider-man - Turn Off The Dark" was so great I took a detour to New York to catch an early preview. I came away bitterly disappointed, a turgid evening that failed on just about every count (the weekend saved by "The Scottboro Boys", which is now long gone). Returning a year later, much has changed. Given a complete overhaul, Spider-man, whilst still flawed, is a giddily enjoyable bit of theatre.

The scope of the show has been dramatically reduced. Gone is Julie Taymor's wildly ambitious but totally misguided Greek Tragedy cum Circus cum Rock Musical melange. Act II has been almost completely changed, the old Act I finale now the grand finale. This streamlining is in every regard an improvement, the overbearing and irritating Arachne reduced to a supporting role. The net effect might be simplistic but at least the evening makes sense. We get the standard Spider-man origin story (basically the first movie) with a couple of twists. Most of the changes are prudent though I cannot for the life of me work out why they stripped Peter Parker of blame in the death of his Uncle, it's like they are totally trying to avoid adult themes.

However, the new production team under Philip McKinley (who amongst other things brought the absurd "Ben Hur Live" to the stage) were working within the limitations of what they had and so many of the strengths and weaknesses remain. For all the tech brilliance, much of the flying still feels little more than technically clever. Faceless flying just doesn't feel real. The final sequence which sees Parker soaring unmasked brings that heart-stopping impact that is almost entirely absent from the rest of the show.

The sets, which haven't been changed much at all, are massive yet elegant, comic book derived masterpieces. George Tsypin provides off-kilter set-pieces that just pop off the stage. They are the only element of the show that truly works. The visuals are helped by plenty of bombastic lighting, even when the stunts aren't as impressive as they should be, you can still ogle the amazing skewed perspective imagery onstage. The costume designs are mostly just as strong, though the villains of Act II slip from witty into tacky.

The other major unchanged element is the music, by Bono and the Edge, which remains deeply unmemorable. A couple of dreadful numbers have been removed, the trashy shoe scene mercifully cut, but the only full addition is the mediocre "Freak Like Me". At it's best, "Rise Above" and "A Boy Falls From the Sky" mostly, the score can soar but with tosh like "Bullying By Numbers" and "Bouncing Off The Walls" remaining, the consistency is just not there.

There have been a few cast changes, mostly for the better, and I was lucky enough to hear Matthew James Thomas as Parker. He's been the alternate since the show opened and he has a megastar voice that far outstrips that of Reeve Carney's (though I'm told Carney has improved since I heard him sing the part). The show is still bigger than its stars, but Patrick Page is a hoot as the Green Goblin (his role has been considerably enlarged) and Christina Sajous hits all the right notes as Arachne (a now vastly reduced role). Rebecca Faulkenberry sings a tidy Mary Jane Watson.

Spider-man - Turn Off the Dark is still a missed opportunity, but at least it's now in splashy fun territory. The stunts are spectacular though lacking visceral thrills, the sets are just magnificent and the performances decent. Unlike nine months ago, Spidey is now just about worth your time and money.

(Review of Performance on Wednesday, November 30th, 2011 at the Foxwoods Theater)

La Bohème (Metropolitan Opera)

2011-11-29T04:04:00.001Z

Franco Zeffirelli's production of "La Bohème" is probably the closest thing to Disney Opera you're going to find. Chocolate box sets that scarcely look like reality. There's no stopping Puccini however and the Met have assembled a tremendous cast, particularly a pair of sopranos who couldn't be bettered in these roles.

The sets are the most distinctive aspect of this remarkable production. The curtain rises on the squalid garret of our four heroes; in the Zeffirelli vision this is rendered as something resembling the Seven Dwarves cottage perched atop Paris to give a view not disimilar to Quasimodo's. Act II follows as a splendidly over the top, two tiered market, peopled with bajillions of extras plus a horse and donkey bundled in just because they can. Act III takes us to a romantic sweep of snow before a cosy return to the garret for the finale. The whole thing is ridiculous and "traditional" only in so far as it makes little sense, but heck, what am I talking about: I wouldn't have it any other way. There's been talk of this production being replaced, I do hope they don't. Of all the operatic warhorses floating about, this one would be difficult to better for theatrical insanity.

Bungling about in front of these monoliths for this revival are a smashing set of singers, most of whom made a decent fist of the acting requirements as well. The women ruled the roost, Hibla Gerzmava and Susanna Phillips the finest Mimi/Musetta pairing I've heard. Gerzmava offered this role in London last year but she has only deepened her interpretation since then. She delivers a rich evenness across her range, rendering Mimi warm and affecting. She's more motherly than perhaps the part should be, but her commitment to the role fully convinced. Phillips makes for a delightful coquette, less sexy than some but far more playful. She has a quite delicious voice, somehow weighty and agile at the same time.

The men couldn't quite match the women. Dmitri Pittas' Rodolfo has a meaty Italianate ring and acts impeccably but phrasing occasionally proved a challenge and stamina an issue. Gerzmava's massive sound left him straining to be heard. Better was Alexey Markov's Marcello, though his charming baritonal hum comes with a distinctly slavic hue. Pick of the bunch was Matthew Rose's resonant Colline, delivering an accomplished, thoughtful "Vecchia zimara". A luxury bit of casting and I hope he'll be back at the Met in bigger roles in future.

A glorious evening that married excessive grandeur with superlative singing. Louis Langree could have pushed the tempi a touch, the pacing more comfortable than exciting, but the Met Orchestra are in their element with this music. The Zeffirelli Bohème is never going to be the most moving of evenings, though I confess to shedding a tear, but it's an extremely enjoyable and entirely eye-popping creation.

(Review of Performance on Monday, November 28th, 2011 at the Metropolitan Opera)

The Blue Man Group (NYC)

2011-11-21T03:55:00.001Z

When the "Blue Man Group" had a show in London a few years back, I developed a mild addiction to their drumming insanity. That show died a death but they're still going strong in New York some two decades after they first opened. Playing in the tiny Astor Place Theatre this show lacks some of the spectacle that came with their bigger venues but benefits from the intimacy such a small space brings.

The show has recently been given a mild technological kick, gone are the tickers and ancient TVs, but it's hard to argue that the Blue Man Group have quite the relevance they had even five years ago. A blast from the past but a slightly fusty one. The visual brilliance remains, the paint flying everywhere is eyepoppingly impressive, and much of the physical humour still works, but gags about plumbing and conceptual art just seem a bit old hat. Whole sequences remain identical and even the redone ones are just jazzed up versions of the old ones, giant Ipads used essentially as TVs.

The three Blue Men were as excellent as you would expect. The blue make-up removes all individuality though thanks to the canny performers little character quirks emerge. They're great drummers, ably supported by the small band, and the music is an element that has grown no weaker with the passing years. The wonderfully bizarre conclusion of toilet paper is still a triumph though they've replaced "I Feel Love" with a much less catchy number about the human rear end.

I'm still a total sucker for the blue people, their combination of anarchic drumming, slapstick humour and rock and roll production values ticking all my boxes. It's just a pity that they haven't evolved with the times, the small updates doing little to push their ideas forward. I can see them trundling on at the Astor Place Theatre for a good long while but where once the Blue Man Group captured the zeitgeist, they now seem to be past their prime.

(Review of Performance on Sunday, November 20th, 2011 at the Astor Place Theatre)

The Infernal Comedy

2011-11-18T03:02:00.001Z

After the happy go lucky concerts of my previous two nights, "The Infernal Comedy" made for a big change. A combination of John Malkovich and Baroque Opera retelling the life of Jack Unterweger. A grim evening by any standards that whilst thought provoking, never quite gets to the root of Unterweger's evil.

For those who haven't come across him before, Unterweger was a particularly nasty piece of work. A fiercely charismatic man who spent 15 years in prison for murdering a woman before being released thanks to the quality of his prose (you really couldn't make this up), to become a minor celebrity whilst all the while killing and sexual assaulting a further 11 women. He was finally caught, tried and convicted but quickly hanged himself in his jail cell. "The Infernal Comedy" continues the narrative, supposing Unterweger had written an autobiography and is now selling it to the public on a book tour (despite the small technicality of being dead).

If you've read all that and still want to see this show then you're a stronger person than me. Malkovich delivers an utterly charming but painfully creepy, Unterweger. The evening starts as something of a stand-up show before gradually descending into weird meta-theatrics and musical interludes. It's a plum Malkovich part, bringing out his slippery, reptilian best. It's hard to separate out Unterweger's lies and truths and each time he strangles a woman (quite graphically as it happens), you question how such a seemingly pleasant man could do something quite so horrific.

He is supported by an orchestra in the form of the Orchester Wiener Akademie under Martin Haselbock, but the Baroque/monologue fusion makes only slightly more sense on the stage than it does on the page. The playing is extremely good, light and textured, and the three sopranos vaguely impressed but the monologue structure of the evening means the focus never really leaves Malkovich's Unterweger.

As a complete evening "The Infernal Comedy" doesn't quite measure up. Shocking up to a point, but despite a superlative performance from Malkovich the evening doesn't quite hang together. The music amounts to background atmosphere, cunningly put together though it may be, and despite Malkovich's winning performance I came no closer to really understanding anything. A brave, unusual piece that I don't regret seeing, but not one I could recommend.

(Review of Performance on Thursday, November 17th, 2011 at the Brooklyn Academy of Music)

Katy Perry - California Dreams

2011-11-17T04:36:00.001Z

So I received a text at the interval of Juilliard's "Kommilitonen" that read, "urgent! spare ticket to Katy Perry now!!!". Being the total sucker I am: I dashed to Madison Square Garden to witness Perry's over-sexed fluff monster extravaganza of a show. Good as "Kommilitonen" was, I'm only human.

Perry's brand of bubble-gum pop is almost impossible to dislike. However much one tries, she just keeps flinging smiles, giggles and candy in your vague direction till you're completely smitten. "The California Dreams Tour" is standard in structure, an evening of upbeat hits with a couple of ballads and covers tossed in, yet unusually well crafted. There's a weird Alice in Wonderland cum Willy Wonka narrative used to string together the songs: it's a pretty bonkers story by any standards, involving a butcher, a baker but sadly no candlestick maker (surely a missed nursery rhyme opportunity).

The sets and costumes are predictably flashy, Perry changing between virtually every song and even going through some quick changes for "Hot and Cold". The backing dancers and singers get plenty of stage time, a talented bunch, but Perry is quite happy standing alone, something she does with some regularity. The thrust stage allows her to interact with her fans and if some of the dialogue was a bit generic, "New York's the greatest city" and the like, she's a real charmer. Licking a fan was a delectably embarrassing bit of naughtiness though Russell Brand then didn't turn up, despite being announced.

Whether Perry can sing is a bit of a moot point, it's an arena pop concert, but she does better than many. Floating out over the audience on a fluffy cloud, she delivered solo vocals that were genuinely impressive (though I had low expectations so take from that what you will). She covered all bases, with songs from both "One of the Boys" and "Teenage Dream", though delving into only two albums she had to go with a few less than memorable songs.

On stage for most of two hours, Perry is a magnetic presence. Quite what Perry's target market is, I can't quite fathom; "magical brownies" (that make you "high"), skimpy costumes and dirty jokes belying the heavily pre-teen audience. No matter, I had a blast.

(Review of Performance on Wednesday, November 16th, 2011 at Madison Square Garden)

Hugh Jackman - Back on Broadway

2011-11-16T02:42:00.001Z

I've never been the biggest fan of solo theatre, there's something invariably self-indulgent about it, but Hugh Jackman is a man born to dominate the stage. A classy singer and dancer but more importantly a man with charisma radiating from his every pore. "Back on Broadway" provides little that is unexpected but an awful lot of fun.

For the most part Jackman sticks to mainstream Broadway and Hollywood tunes. He kicks off with "Oh, What a Beautiful Morning" and then pretty much stays in that groove, especially in the first half. He opens the second with his Peter Allen impersonation, breathtakingly camp and exciting, bringing the emotions home with Allen's "Tenterfield Saddler". The other major variation comes with the arrival of a small group of aboriginal musicians, including Olive Knight, who briefly join Jackman for a Kamakawiwoʻole style version of "Somewhere over the Rainbow". I've no doubt many will have their own highlights, though I particularly loved the medley of golden age Hollywood movie musicals, it was a delight to hear them performed live.

Our leading man is supported by a terrific 18 piece orchestra and a set of six backing performers. The production however, places Jackman front and centre with everything else very much in the background. Projections occasionally support the music with some vaguely relevant imagery, but basically this is Jackman, Jackman, Jackman.

Luckily, Jackman is a really, really fine showman. There are few surprises to be found here but what is promised the evening delivers in spades. Tickets are selling at inordinate prices, the Wolverine effect so to speak, but students can grab thirty dollar tickets on the day. I'm not sure I'd fork out $350 for it, but for sheer pleasure "Hugh Jackman - Back on Broadway" is up with the best.

(Review of Performance on Tuesday, November 15th at the Booth Theater)

Rodelinda (Metropolitan Opera)

2011-11-15T05:32:00.001Z

The Met isn't exactly a typical Baroque house so they deliver Handel's "Rodelinda" in the sort of manner you might predict. Big and bumptious but delivered with loving commitment. Stephen Wadsworth's production, now in its third outing, is conventional but clever. The cast vary from Baroque specialists to Renee Fleming.

Rodelinda has a typically daft Handelian plot: Feuding royals, scheming servants and random stabbings played out by characters with names like Grimoaldo, Garibaldo and Bertarido in largely solo airs for most of four hours (more than four in fact at the first night, thanks to endless intervals). It's a real testament to the production and cast then, to report the evening is incredibly easy to follow. The detail is meticulous despite some of the acting being decidedly broad. Lots of background action is introduced but it's seldom distracting and actually enlivens some of the longer, more tepid arias.

Wadsworth forwards the time period to a slightly generic Italianate setting of around the early 18th Century. It works because the detail in the direction is so precise and the set so clever. Wadsworth has intelligently created a vast sliding design that keeps the singers almost exclusively near the front of the stage whilst still giving the illusion of depth. This minimises the difficulty of singing this music at the Barn that is the Metropolitan Opera and does so without seeming forced. To top it off, it's a technical marvel as well, moving in pretty near silence.

The production was made for Fleming but that doesn't prevent her being completely miscast. All credit to her for trying something different but her technique and colouring are not right for Handel. Unfocused singing throughout and the delicate passage work given to her became a wash of noise. Stephanie Blythe is on the face of it no more suited to this music, but aside from a few throaty notes tackled her part with flair. Best in the cast was Iestyn Davies who managed to project his agile, gorgeous countertenor up and out into the auditorium. Andreas Scholl had much to recommend him as well: strong acting and pretty voice though lacking real attack, his sound not infrequently got lost over the orchestra pit. Joseph Kaiser took to his part with entertaining, arm flinging commitment. The coloratura threatened to run away from him on a couple of occasions but his articulation was mostly excellent. Shenyang was difficult to love as a rather stolid Garibaldo, for a wicked villain he just wasn't all that interesting.

Harry Bicket took on the task of conjuring Handel from the Met pit and whilst not altogether HIP ("Historically Inspired Performance" to the very un-hip classical music crowd), he created a bouncy and free sound that delighted on its own terms. There was some attempt by the Met orchestra at limiting the vibrato and finding a less plush sound but they aren't going to threaten the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment any time soon.

There's so much wrong with this that it's quite incredible that the overall evening is so enjoyable. A superbly pitched production that overcomes the various vocal inadequacies and inconsistencies to produce a decent bit of theatre. Purists might want to stay away but for the rest of us this is rather good fun; which isn't something that can be leveled at all Baroque performances.

(Review of Performance on Monday, November 14th, 2011 at the Metropolitan Opera)

The Rockettes: Radio City Christmas Spectacular

2011-11-13T20:28:00.001Z

It's in the title really: "Christmas Spectacular". The Rockettes do spectacle very, very well. A mindblowingly impressive ninety minutes of high kicking backed by huge sets, sparkling costumes and wondrous projections. Deeply traditional but not in the slightest bit staid.

The only failure of the evening is the new "3D Video Game" number. Some of the Rockettes' choreography has hardly changed since the first half of the 20th Century and yet the brand new sequence comes across as pretty much the only dated section in the show. The 80s sci-fi, green costumes and quaint gaming exterior reek of a production team trying to look trendy and failing. The 3D is well put together but in all other respects the new material disappoints.

No matter, the rest of the show is absolutely smashing. Traditional in the very best way. The Rockettes have been performing their signature kickline for seventy plus years and the trick hasn't worn off yet. The thirty six, identically heighted girls move through a series of routines capturing different aspects of Christmas strung together by a Santa Claus compere. There's no real justification for the various scenes beyond the sheer joy of it all.

Throughout the show the beautiful scenery melds the old and the new, huge physical creations set against quite breathtaking projections. The transformation to the North Pole that fills the entire auditorium with imagery is a moment of true wonder. I'd have heard small children around me gasping if I wasn't doing so myself. The Radio City Music Hall technology is put to good use as set piece after set piece emerges from every direction possible.

What really makes this show though is how impressive the dancing is. The Rockettes move to a fairly limited choreographic palette but they do so with insane precision and unity. The toy soldier scene is remarkable, formations and lines produced with pin point accuracy. The Teddy Bear Nutcracker is a total delight. The living nativity scene that closes the evening is bizarre but enchanting, two camels marched across the stage in a display of biblical excess.

The Rockettes could teach Cirque du Soleil a thing or two about creating a show big enough to fill Radio City Music Hall. Walking the fine line between adorable and tacky and almost never overstepping it. A spellbindingly entertaining bit of sparkly joy. For ninety minutes, I really did feel like Christmas had come early.

(Review of Performance on Sunday, November 13th, 2011 at the Radio City Musical Hall)

Dark Sisters (Gotham Chamber Opera)

2011-11-13T20:27:00.001Z

"Dark Sisters" is Nico Muhly's second opera inside of a year. The first, "Two Boys" premiered at the English National Opera and showed much promise, delivering something relevant and accessible (two things that can't always be said of contemporary opera). This second effort is by far the more conventional, a chamber piece that engages, without really grasping the bigger picture.

The greatest pity is that with only 7 singers, Muhly's biggest strength, his choral music, only occasionally emerges. Where the five wives quintet of "Keep Sweet" is hauntingly beautiful, his solo vocal writing too often plods. The orchestral music is a highlight, the isolated, stark desert ably evoked, but the un-sung material is brief; this keeps the plot ticking over but never allows Muhly's music to expand to fill out the emotions. Unlike "Two Boys" where the orchestra regularly overwhelmed the singers, here the small band support without dominating. A combination of well-set text and superlative diction meant the surtitles were hardly needed, a real strength.

The text itself, by Stephen Karam, takes as its starting point a fascinating, rather operatic topic. A fundamental polygamist sect whose children have been taken away by the authorities. The focus is placed heavily on the five wives of the "prophet", in particular Caitlin Lynch's Eliza whose teenage daughter is about to be married off to a man of nearly sixty. It's a conventional crisis of faith type situation played out through the shifting perspectives of the different "sisters". The trouble is that in compressing the action down to an intense ninety minutes, the narrative feels chopped up. The second Act starts with an absolutely exquisite scene of crumbling facades but too quickly leaps to the shocking conclusion. The emotions make sense, the inevitable final scenes have a painful logic to them, but it's easy to feel short-changed by how quickly the moment approached and then as quickly passed.

The production and performances are first rate. The stage is sparsly designed: a red hued, scorched earth floor with wide cinematic projection screen at the rear. Simple, framed lighting picks out the detailed acting while the gorgeous projections emphasis the otherworldly, almost biblical, nature of the narrative. The five wives are all impeccably taken, carefully delineated characters expertly sung and acted. Kevin Burdette provides the counterpoint drawing great depth out of the shadowy prophet/cult leader.

"Dark Sisters" is softly compelling without ever quite leaping to something great. A family drama that too quietly meanders to its underplayed conclusion. Muhly has written some terrific music but his voice does not yet have the strength to string together the fractured scenes. A solid piece of theatre, but one that falls short of its lofty goals.

(Review of Performance on Friday, November 11th, 2011 at the Gerald W. Lynch Theater)

Nevermore in Concert

2011-11-10T04:30:00.000Z

"Nevermore in Concert" is the launching pad for "Musically Human", a new Off-Off-Broadway musical theatre company. A one night event at the tiny Duplex Cabaret Theatre in Greenwich Village. "Nevermore" is a small scale musical by any standards: three players and six singers. This marked a rare excursion into the fringe for me, but an extremely enjoyable one.

"Nevermore" in this setting took on the proportions of a song cycle. Edgar Allan Poe visiting the various women in his life in a surreal whirl of memories and poetic songs. Without much prior knowledge of Poe, the narrative largely got lost. This ambiguity leant the evening an air of mystery with fascinating relationships gradually emerging, but the characters lacked the depth that might lift them to something greater. Much of this is possibly down to the "concert" form, the evening was crying out for more dialogue.

The music of Matt Conner carries an evocatively dissonant quality whilst remaining attractively tuneful and in places, genuinely beautiful. Conner captures some of the pulse of Sondheim's "Sweeney Todd" though his adapted libretto, all the words are taken from Poe's own work, presents themes without fully tapping into the underlying emotions. David Norwood put the piece on the stage with a minimum of movement, the space didn't really give him any option in that regard. The detail in the performances was unusually strong for a one-off show however, Daniel Cooney in particular delivering Poe's tiny mannerisms with skill.

In the role of Poe, Cooney is quite magnificent. A childlike man tortured by reality. The narrative confusion meant the pent up emotions weren't fully explored, but it wasn't for lack of trying on his part. Rock solid vocals and excellent diction made his performance nothing less than a triumph. The five supporting women were all excellent. Margo Seibert shone as the juvenile Virginia, coy and playful without seeming fake. Natascha Diaz as the mother had a sublime edginess while Eleasha Gamble offered a dangerous, threatening whore.

A one night event so I'm afraid if you weren't there you'll have to wait till Musically Human mount a full production of "Nevermore" next Summer. I'll certainly be popping along though I can't help but feel they've got no chance of lining up such an exceptional cast for a longer run. Regardless, Matt Conner represents a thrilling contemporary musical theatre voice and "Nevermore" stands on its own feet as hugely enjoyable theatre.

(Review of Performance on Monday, November 7th, 2011 at the Duplex Cabaret Theater)

Follies

2011-11-08T19:18:00.000Z

Few shows have managed to make me feel quite so young. The current revival of "Follies" made me feel positively embryonic. A musical about a showgirl reunion and the ghosts of the past that emerge with such a meeting, there's enough middle age regret in this to put anyone half to sleep.

Much of this is down to a production that feels flat and relentless. Dim lighting and dark sets, the reunion takes place in a soon to be bulldozed theatre, leave no room for escape until well into the second half. Sondheim's lyrics and music are intensely clever but make no emotional impact, the evening slips into near self-indulgent navel gazing. With the exception of the quite brilliant Terri White leading "Who's That Woman", a tap routine that lifts the damp spirits tremendously, there's little to make the heart beat faster.

"Follies" examines two couples whose interlinked history leads to this reunion of endless Wertherian moping. Long buried loves, hopes and dreams are wheeled out to no particular end. Sondheim throws a vast number of characters onto the stage, the aging Weismann Follies girls and their husbands plus (as if there weren't enough people cluttering the stage already), their younger selves who appear as ghostly apparitions. The gloom of the central narrative is occasionally lifted by upbeat musical numbers delivered by one of the peripheral characters but the overwhelming feeling is one of self-misery.

The cast is filled with Broadway stars but their impact is muted. Bernadette Peters looks incredible for 63 but in this production it's a problem. For an old frump, she's far too sexy. Her singing voice is not quite what it once was however, still powerful and accurate but shrill in places and lacking a warm glow. Jan Maxwell fares better, an aging belle with flashes of what she once was emerging as the evening wears on. The two leading men are excellent, Ron Raines and Danny Burstein offering crisp vocals and dignified world weariness. Elaine Paige takes on the one Follie girl who still hasn't lost it, a charismatic performance of comic gold.

There's probably more to "Follies" than I'm giving it credit for, but in the current production there's a serious lack of universal humanity. The characters just aren't relatable on any level. Plenty of fine singing and playing ensures the experience is pleasant enough. In the end though, I just didn't care.

(Review of Performance on Sunday, November 6th, 2011 at the Marquis Theatre)

Tim Minchin (NYC)

2011-11-08T01:07:00.003Z

I became a fan of Tim Minchin not long after I started blogging and have followed him ever since. His star has fast risen and then went right through the roof when he composed and wrote the lyrics for the Royal Shakespeare Company's quite outrageously brilliant "Matilda, A Musical". On tour in the USA, he is back to what made his name: witty, insightful songs and spicey stand-up.

His first and pretty much only error was opening with the assumption that everyone already knew who he was and what he was about. Possibly a fair assumption with this crowd, but it made "Rock and Roll Nerd" weaker as he hadn't yet set up his persona. You've got to earn the easy laughs and he hadn't. From then on Minchin beautifully hit his stride delivering a mix of older and newer material to terrific success. "Cont" is quite brilliant, a single punchline song that somehow sustains amazingly through its duration and "Storm", a nine and a half minute beat poem that I more or less know by heart, remains pretty much perfect delivered live.

Minchin knows his audience and hits home with precision. His quick-fire banter, larger than life personality and ludicrously expansive vocabulary instantly winning. This was a partisan crowd and they loved every moment, the closing "Hallelujah" entirely enchanting. Though strictly speaking an Australian comedian this still represented a slice of home to me. Minchin is a great performer and I can't wait to catch "Matilda" again when I'm back across the pond over Christmas.

(Review of Performance on Friday, November 4th, 2011 at The Town Hall NYC)

Crumble

2011-11-06T02:47:00.001Z

"Crumble", written by Mark O'Neill, is site-specific theatre at its most intimate: 15 odd people greeted on arrival at 95 Wall Street (the location changes) by a gregarious Northern English housewife who gradually reveals herself to be semi-deranged and not a little terrifying. Willy Russell never saw this coming.

The opening moments are the strongest, dragged into the kitchen by Sylvie Cranshaw the small audience rapidly bond over nibbles and wine. It's interactive theatre of the simplest and most effective kind. The play itself however, which flows only semi-naturally from the intro chatter, relegates the audience to seats around the kitchen to watch Sylvie, played by the effervescent Laura Hooper, deliver a macabre monologue. It's compelling stuff, I shan't spoil the story as it has a creepily grim conclusion, but feels rather detached from the upbeat opening. Staged in a Manhattan kitchen there's also a disconnect between the naturalistic British text and the obviously NYC setting, but the dividends from the novelty of the setting make it a trade off worth making.

Running at just under an hour "Crumble" is an excitingly different bit of theatre. Low key and intimate to thrilling effect. The camaraderie of the opening moments doesn't quite sustain through the more conventional main event but by then you're so wrapped up in the narrative that it doesn't much matter. You can find Sylvie in various places around New York and as long as you're brave enough to knock on her door, you won't regret it.

(Review of Performance on Thursday, November 3rd, 2011 at 95 Wall Street)

Fall For Dance: Program 3

2011-11-03T03:09:00.001Z

The Fall For Dance festival is one of those events that just has to be celebrated. Five different programs spread over two weeks with 3 or 4 dance pieces in each, all by different companies. If you need more encouragement, tickets are only a tenner, making this about the best deal in town. Program 3 had some ups and downs, but overall it was a thrilling evening.

First up was The Australian Ballet with "Gemini" by Glenn Tetley. A ballet of style but not a whole lot of substance. Tetley plays with a blend of classic and contemporary choreography to create an exhilarating short work. The two couples launching themselves across the stage in a whirlwind of lean motion. The Henze score is sublime though crying out for a full, live orchestra (about the only criticism I have of the festival in general, though the low ticket prices entirely make up of for it). After a slightly rough start the quartet of dancers did fine work, Lana Jones's endless legs a dream to watch. It's a work that left me breathless, as it did the dancers, without revealing anything deeper.

Next up was the Royal Ballet's Steven McRae. He's a top notch ballet dancer but it wasn't ballet he was showing off here but his unbelievable tap skills. Anyone who caught Wheeldon's "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland" got a flavour for what he is capable of but "Something Different" showed him at his quicksilver best. Charming the audience with his insouciant grin, this was a few brief minutes of tapping perfection.

What followed was just as inspiring. Pontus Lidberg's pulsing "Faune". Debussy's "Prélude à l'après-midi d'un faune" has had many great ballets made on it over the years but Lidberg has done the music proud. Five dancers rippling with an uneasy sexuality. Craig Hall and Adrian Danchig-Waring from the New York City Ballet dancing to their very best. The costume changing could have looked gimicky, each dancer taking turns as the naked outsider, but Lidberg makes it heart stopping, the shifting dynamics keeping the audience on the edge of their seats.

The final work was the only real let down of the evening. "THREE TO MAX", is a hodgepodge of a work that looks like Ohad Naharin was looking to explore every dance style he could in the space of an interminable half hour (described as a "collage" in the playbill). The score screamed out "look at me I'm contemporary dance music" and the steps wandered from Flamenco through Folk to Ballet without a single creative voice ever emerging. A large company piece by Hubbard Street Dance Chicago, the dancing was fine but "THREE TO MAX" outstayed its welcome by a good twenty minutes.

3 out of 4 is pretty good going by any dance standards and with Lidberg and McRae raising the roof this really was a tremendous evening. I hope to make at least one more of these Fall For Dance bills, they really are an incredible opportunity to catch varied dance at a mega low price. Program 3 at least was a fantastic couple of hours.

(Review of Performance on Tuesday, November 1st, 2011 at the New York City Center)

Milk Like Sugar

2011-11-01T20:52:00.002Z

I made a last minute decision to go see "Milk Like Sugar" and entered the theatre without the slightest clue what I was in for. The enigmatic title reveals itself to be an affecting metaphor for poverty. However, nothing else about Kirsten Greenidge's play could be described as in any way metaphorical. Hugely simplistic and unsubtle yet compelling and emotionally wrought.

The narrative follows a teenage girl, Annie played by the superlative Angela Lewis, as she makes a pregnancy pact with her friends and then feels the ramifications of that agreement. Greenidge takes us nowhere we haven't been before and with the exception of Annie, the characters generally lack shades of grey. Talisha and Margie, her two best friends, play to stereotypes despite fine efforts from Cherise Boothe and Nikiya Mathis. Extremely funny but one-dimensional. The big thinker Malik squares off against the failed mum of Myrna with all the originality of a Greek tragedy. Tonya Pinkins as Myrna commands the stage like few others, capturing the sadness as well as the monstrosity of this mother, but it's a case of fine acting overcoming text.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, this conventionality pays great dividends in some respects. The conclusion won't be a shock to anyone and yet it somehow rings true. Stock characters that speak to something greater. You come to care for Annie and her situation, the cost of ignorance and fear that applies to everyone. I'm not suggesting "Milk Like Sugar" will transform anyone's world view, but it does explore emotional problems in an extremely involving way.

In the small Peter Jay Sharp Theatre at Playwrights Horizons, the drama plays out in a staging that, not unlike the play itself, is blunt but effective. A brick wall gradually recedes through the play before rolling towards the audience in a thrilling fashion, depicting isolation and limited horizons with aplomb. The Beyonce driven scene changes were a treat, the characters' mime revealing depth that added to what the play otherwise managed. Sleek and straightforward, it's a well pitched production.

If "Milk With Sugar" isn't a revelation, it's a neatly packaged play with a strong central theme. Tackling current issues in a heartrending fashion. A story whose strength lies in that it feels all too real. A play that should have a visceral impact on just about everyone.

(Review of Performance on Monday, October 31st, 2011 at Playwright's Horizons)

Siegfried (Metropolitan Opera)

2011-10-28T23:26:00.000+01:00

With all the technology in the world, Robert Lepage's "Ring Cycle" couldn't be more traditional if he tried. For all the wizzy visual tricks, the only difference between these backdrops and ones from a century ago are that these trees are projected. There's nothing really wrong with this but if anything lies beneath it completely eludes me.

Reaching "Siegfried", the third chunk of the cycle (I caught "Rheingold" last year, which I very much enjoyed, but missed "Walkure"), "the machine" is proving versatile. Largely used as a static projection surface, but the rotating beams form a variety of visually attractive arrangements. Act I brings the worst direction of the evening, somehow achieving the unlikely combination of looking static and cluttered. The whirring of the set and the writhing visuals distract needlessly from the opening and then Lepage buries Mime's hut behind the front strip, slicing off the performers at the knees and making even the epic Notung forging a tepid moment.

Things pick up after the first interval. The forest scenes are elegantly naturalistic, projection work at its finest. The animated woodbird bordered on the corny and the dragon/snake is a dreadful, cutsey puppet but at least the stagecraft placed the singers front and centre. Act III found the best in the machine (that is when it wasn't making painful grinding sounds), undulating surfaces quite brilliantly evoking the mountaintop. Lepage didn't have a clue what to do with Erda but otherwise he ably navigates a path through the narrative. The costumes are almost humorously fantastical, the Wanderer's hat just ridiculous, but they fit the production's aesthetic excellently.

As effectively the Met's third choice for the title role (so he is not the chap in the picture at the top), Jay Hunter Morris rose mightily to the challenge. He lacks a true heldentenor ring but his lyrical style allowed him to tackle the huge role with consistent flair. His acting was first rate, a boyish bewilderment, and the fact he still had punch left at the conclusion made this pretty close to a triumph. Gerhard Siegel's Mime was exceptional, a despicably squirming portrayal (though his hump was a little Quasimodo). Bryn Terfel's Wanderer brought out the best in his voice, the slightly frayed quality ideal for the role. Deborah Voigt approached Brunnhilde with all guns blazing, blasting out notes without much consideration for tone especially as she launched herself towards the Cs. Brunnhilde isn't what one might describe as an easy role but I still expected better. Mojca Erdmann sang a pretty Woodbird, Patricia Bardon seemed off the pace as Erda. Fabio Luisi brought out some serious beauty from the pit, his slick tempi lighting a fire that lifted the evening.

It's easy to feel a bit disappointed in this Ring, it doesn't live up to anything like Lepage's best, but at least it efficiently ticks all the traditional boxes: a series of gorgeous images that basically depict the settings as described in the text. If it can finally be silenced the "machine" serves its purpose well enough though, despite its cost, doesn't seem to provide any original ideas at all. As a result it's all down to the singing and, by and large, the Met have put together a stellar cast. I've no idea how Voigt will fare in Gotterdammerung but Morris proves a worthy addition to the line-up.

(Review of Performance on Thursday, October 27th, 2011 at the Metropolitan Opera)

Anna Bolena (Metropolitan Opera)

2011-10-25T20:43:00.003+01:00

I'll keep this brief as I reviewed the opening night of the Metropolitan Opera's new "Anna Bolena" a couple of weeks ago. I was drawn back principally by the presence of Angela Meade in the title role. A very different performer from Anna Netrebko but one of serious merit.

Meade is a virtuoso singer whose incredible control allows her to tackle this difficult music with apparent ease. This is both a good and bad thing; the beauty of her runs and crisp top are offset by the lack of edgy risk that made Netrebko so exciting. She tackles the mad scene with aplomb but the visceral thrills are largely missing (Bel Canto trill obsessives will be in for a treat however). She delivers a soft, gentle portrayal that just doesn't leap off the stage. Her wide vibrato isn't completely to my taste but sounds integral to the voice rather than any sign of weakness. It's a textbook performance but one without the edge of your seat quality that lifted the opening night to another level.

It's a winning production of shadowy restraint. Gloomy environs heightening the drama throughout with a spellbindingly theatrical conclusion. Impeccably cast from top to bottom, Ekaterina Gubanova and Tamara Mumford providing able female support. Ildar Abdrazakov delivered his music more robustly than on opening night, the low lying material seemingly much more comfortable. Stephen Costello, whilst still stretched, almost completely delivered the goods.

A smashing piece of theatre, Donizetti's "Anna Bolena" proving a rip roaring success for the Met. Marco Armiliato still tends towards plodding tempi in the pit, but it was a more coherent reading with the orchestra on very fine form. Not many performances to go, so get your tickets quick (and there aren't many, if any, left).

(Review of Performance on Monday, October 24th, 2011 at the Metropolitan Opera)

Sons of the Prophet

2011-10-21T23:07:00.000+01:00

The first ten minutes of Roundabout's "Sons of the Prophet" did not fill my heart with glee. A flurry of major 'isms thrown about so fast it was hard to know what on earth Stephen Karam was aiming for. Luckily it turns out he was just juddering towards a straightforward family drama. One with plenty of bleak humour and a real heart.

If the bigger picture is completely lost after the opening moments, Karam hones in on this family with great skill. A small group of people just trying to make it through a world that keeps throwing painful events at them. Santino Fontana leads the way as the quietly passionate Joseph; a man doing everything he can to keep both himself and his family together. Many obstacles are thrown at Joseph across the short running time, but the terrific cast keep the slightly over the top proceedings genuine rather than forced. The internal logic of the piece felt at times erratic, kooky characters abounding, but the central trio, two brothers and their elderly uncle, crystalises beautifully. Chris Perfetti's extremely camp Charles stayed the right side of realism, Yused Bulos' Bill a triumph of doddery performing. I was less sure about Joanna Gleason's insane Gloria but somehow she just about made sense.

The production is serviceable rather than excellent. The opening seconds have a quirky cinematic quality that sadly rapidly give way to a children's tv show of a set. Sliding walls and plasticky furniture generating a vaguely naturalistic setting; crumbling brickwork around the ages, the only attempt at conveying the bigger themes. Shifting one of the final scenes out into the auditorium is the best directorial decision of the night, bringing immediacy to one of the play's big moments in a hugely effective way.

From weak beginnings "Sons of the Prophet" finishes a thoroughly moving and engaging piece of theatre. Supremely well acted, the stinging black comedy scoring hit after hit. The big themes never quite get tackled but the sheer emotional weight of the story mean that in the end, it doesn't really matter.

(Review of Performance on Wednesday, October 11th, 2011 at the Laura Pels Theatre)

Don Giovanni (Metropolitan Opera)

2011-10-15T00:00:00.001+01:00

I don't think Michael Grandage has quite grasped the size of the Metropolitan Opera. His new "Don Giovanni" is so minutely detailed that it comes across looking under directed. A fabulous cast make a fine fist of things, but against all my expectations: Grandage has missed the big picture, the sum total is dull.

His "Billy Budd" showed just what magnificence Grandage is capable of. Here, he and Christopher Oram have put together a production that feels more suited to a venue like the Donmar Warehouse than the Met. The set is basically a tiled version of a typical Donmar one, a three story repeating pattern of dark doors and balconies. The bulk of the action takes place on a thin strip at the front in a static and rather stagey manner. Conversely, whenever the stage opens up and the crowd swarms in, the principals get lost in the melee. The vertical elements are scarcely used at all.

The result is a production that has very little to say. The costuming suggests an approximately 18th Century setting. The set vaguely evokes either Spain or a shanty town depending on how generous one is feeling. Aided by Paule Constable's ever atmospheric lighting, the visuals never fail to create interesting tableaux but these don't enhance the evening in any way. The graveyard briefly thrills and the evening looks up with entry of the Commendatore but then Giovanni gets sent to a hell that's reminiscent of a "Kiss" concert. A damp squib of a finale to finish a flat, uneventful evening.

The cast are tremendous vocalists but looked under-rehearsed (which I'm sure they weren't). Part of this is no doubt a result of Peter Mattei's last minute substitution, but it's still not really good enough. Mattei himself does extremely well. A seriously accomplished singer, swaggering about the stage with seductive brilliance. Luca Pisaroni steals the evening with his utterly loveable Leporello. His catalogue aria was almost the highlight of the evening... or it would have been were it not for the astonishing Ramón Vargas. Don Ottavio isn't really in the fach I associate with Vargas, and yet his "il mio tesoro" blew me away. Spinning incredible long, legato lines with unbelievable breath control.

The women weren't quite as strong. Marina Rebeka, on debut, proved extremely capable but not a lot more. A metallic edge sapping much of the dynamism from her singing. Barbara Frittoli should have been ripe casting but came across fairly nondescript: a flavourless Elvira. Her soprano delivered the goods, with some gorgeous ornamentation, but she faded into the background in a manner I've never seen Elvira do before. Mojca Erdmann didn't project well into the auditorium but made for an endearing Zerlina.

Fabio Luisi conjured some sumptuous playing from the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra, beating from the harpischord, though the lush strings leant the evening a Romantic soupiness that occasionally lacked texture. His tempi went from fast to superduper fast which worked up to a point but shortchanged a few airs.

A disappointing evening that seemed to be trying to avoid excitement at every turn. Entirely inoffensive, the spark to light the metaphorical fire just wasn't there. High marks to all the singers, this probably sounded phenomenal on the radio, but great vocals do not an opera make. A pity.

(Review of Performance on Thursday, October 13th, 2011 at the Metropolitan Opera)

Il Barbiere di Siviglia (Metropolitan Opera)

2011-10-13T20:41:00.001+01:00

As kooky, symbolic sets go this is a pretty one. Sliding doors and autumnal colours bringing the stage to life. It's a pity then, that the stagecraft that comes with it, is so numbingly straightforward and even childlike at times. The singers at this revival are decent but the evening failed to fully take flight.

In a confusing turn of events, Mariusz Kwiecen's injury has robbed this Barbiere of its Barber. Peter Mattei, the scheduled Barber, has been co-opted into the "Don Giovanni" premiering this Thursday. In his place was the game Rodion Pogossov, a name that you should probably remember. Pogossov has a fairly generic sounding baritone but it is a lovely one. He's also a first rate actor, imbuing his Figaro with remarkable vibrancy. Maurizio Benini's baton parted company with him on several occasions, though it wasn't just with Pogossov, Benini's extremely fast tempi kept all the singers on their toes. Pogossov was ably paired with the sweetly charming Javier Camarena. Camarena doesn't really have Met sized volume or effortless coloratura but finds a warm middle that is extremely listenable. The buffoonery given to him early on in the evening doesn't quite ring true but he mostly presents a well rounded Almaviva. Tackling "Cessa di piu resistere" was a brave choice and whilst his stamina nearly gave out in the middle, he pushed through impressively, to the delight of the crowd.

Isabel Leonard has no single attribute to set her apart but she is the complete package. Good voice, good looks and tidy, if occasionally overblown, acting. With the exception of a few errant bits of passagework and a general tendency to thin at the top, she delivered a thoroughly attractive Rosina. Maurizio Muraro's patter was challenged by the speed of the music but his Bartolo offered the best of the acting, consistently humorous and producing genuine pathos at the conclusion. Paata Burchuladze was in the finest voice I've heard him, his robust bass ideal for Don Basilio.

Bartlett Sher's production wanders a peculiar line between telling the story in a very straightforward, obvious way and adding unhelpful little additions that confuse more than they illuminate. The warmly lit set of shifting doors never fails to form an interesting image but the point of them is never fully explored. The high point of the evening comes during the storm of Act II, a fabulous piece of good old fashioned stage-craft. For the rest of the evening however, the characters all emote in an almost panto like manner, signposting every action in advance of doing it. The results are sporadically funny but occasionally rather irritating. An added mute manservant sums up the production rather well: he gets repeatedly knocked over for no particular reason other than laughs (only sometimes finding them).

Benini delivered one of the most thrilling overtures I've heard, but his exciting tempi were to the detriment of pit/stage cohesion. A strong cast from top to bottom made this an aural pleasure and though the staging is simplistic it does at least provide a pleasant visual canvas for the action. Pleasant seems about the right word for the whole evening in fact. Nothing special, but wholly pleasurable.

(Review of Performance on Tuesday, October 11th, 2011 at the Metropolitan Opera)

New York City Ballet Triple Bill (Square/In Memory/West Side)

2011-10-11T03:05:00.001+01:00

I clearly can't get enough of the New York City Ballet. As a result, I headed along to yet another diverse mixed bill of ballets. There doesn't seem to be much rhyme or reason to the way these bills are put together but yet again the NYCB have come up trumps.

"Square Dance" kicked off the evening and it's a sprightly, enjoyable work. It would be easy to dismiss this as yet more pretty Balanchine, and maybe it is, but danced with the finesse that Ashley Bouder brought to the steps, I didn't much mind. Her razor sharp batterie was a triumph and she topped it off by doing it all with a smile on her face. She was well supported by Taylor Stanley, an attractively lithe dancer, though he has a knack spoiling his lines with weak wrists. The small corps delighted in their precision, a couple of muffed moments the only sign that the choreography challenged. A fun, brisk work.

What followed was quite the opposite. "In Memory of..." seemed to be groping for something much more meaningful, but for whatever reason I was left scratching my head. Wendy Whelan and Charles Askegard delivered a masterful duet, he effortlessly portraying a deathly harbinger. Askegard is a dancer who uses his height and build to produce an immense masculinity and his retirement is a loss to the company. The themes appear, at least as first viewing, to overlap with those MacMillan explored in "Song of the Earth". However, unlike that work, I couldn't quite connect with the characters; Jared Angle's young man in particular, oddly unreal. I'd love to see this again, the rich score, simple designs and enigmatic choreography make for a fascinating if elusive ballet. Deserving a quick mention was the novel "See the Music..." that preceded the ballet. A brief walkthrough of the score, hosted by the charmingly Gallic Faycal Karoui. I'd love to see more companies do something similar.

Rounding out the evening was "West Side Story Suite". I caught this last week and it's a work that more than sustains repeat viewings. Though much of the cast was the same, Robert Fairchild taking over the role of Riff created a compellingly different stage presence. Amar Ramasar didn't take to the latin styles quite as well as I expected but sold the arrogance with flair. A timeless classic that I can't wait to see again.

Another excellent evening. All praise to the NYCB for producing a month of varied ballets that with few exceptions have all been excellently danced. The "Swan Lake" has sadly not quite left my memory yet, but otherwise it has been largely hit after hit. They've only just left the city, and already I can't wait for their return.

(Review of Performance on Thursday, October 6th, 2011 at the David H. Koch Theater)

The Threepenny Opera

2011-10-10T00:01:00.002+01:00

There are some shows that just beg to be seen. The Berliner Ensemble performing "The Threepenny Opera" under the direction of Robert Wilson is one of those shows. Not an easy night out by any means, three plus hours of German the first barrier to entry, but a richly rewarding one whose imagery and soundscape will long haunt my dreams.

From the moment Kurt Weill's eerie, evocative music strikes up, it's quite clear this isn't your typical show. Wilson fills the stage with grotesque images that are chilling in their relentlessness, like a German expressionist film with a contemporary kick. Harsh lighting paired with black and white costumes lending the evening an air of unbroken gloom. The make-up alone was enough to give me the shivers. Beautiful on so many levels yet also nightmarishly bleak. The narrative is told visually in such a manner that the surtitles are almost superfluous, Brecht's capitalist satire still potent and relevant enough to provoke applause (slightly questionably perhaps). The band were absolutely terrific; the radical music, shocking even today, spectacularly well played.

The hauntingly stylised movement and speech patterns are a revelation though their distinctiveness comes at a price. Running at over three hours, with Acts I and II running unbroken over two, the performance is not without substantial longueurs. There's something utterly beguiling about every little carefully choreographed move, at times I was reminded of silent movie slapstick comedy, but it does occasionally give the evening a glacial pace.

The cast are really quite something, singing in manner that you can scarcely believe the sound is coming from a human being. It must have been punishingly difficult to produce the exacting movements but every person in the large cast nails their role. Leading from the front is Stefan Kurt's otherworldly Macheath. A gender-bending creation whose presence was magnetic. Charming in the most peculiarly compelling manner. He was supported by his coterie of women, Stefanie Stappenback, Angela Winkler and Anna Graenzer variously dominating the stage with astonishing soaring vocals. Jurgen Holtz and Traute Hoess gave me the creeps in the very best way.

An evening that will live long in the memory (and dreams). A taste of something scarily different yet entirely human. A breathtaking example of what theatre can do. I'm gradually falling in love with the Brooklyn Academy of Music, it's like the Barbican and Sadler's Wells rolled into one. If they can keep providing shows like this and "Atys", they've found a life-long friend in me.

(Review of Performance on Wednesday, October 5th, at the Brooklyn Academy of Music)

The Book of Mormon

2011-10-08T00:47:00.000+01:00

My prayers were answered and I finally got myself to "The Book of Mormon". A show so lauded it was surely doomed to disappoint. But it didn't. Relentlessly funny, with hum-along tunes and cracking choreography. A better night out you'd be hard pressed to find.

The only thing that surprised me was just how very Broadway this show is. Riddled with dirty language and stinging jokes but fundamentally an all singing, all dancing affair. Trey Parker and Matt Stone aim their sights squarely at Mormonism and Evangelical Missionaries but, for all the barbs, finish on a high note that leaves the audience elated. It's easy to argue they sidestep the big issues, the finale paints a bad situation as a happy one, which is a bit disappointing, but it doesn't prevent most of the evening feeling more substantial than your average Broadway show.

The music is tremendously catchy; referencing countless other musicals without ever losing its own distinct flavour. The lyrics are, unsurprisingly, witty, though more impressively they also propel the narrative with skill; the jokes folding into the story in a natural way. Everything about the production is superb. Lavish sets and costumes riddled with neat little visual jokes. The lighting is absolutely mesmerising, creating sky-scapes of gorgeous depth. The frequent dances flit between styles, a Mormon tap dancing number particularly brilliant.

The casting cannot be faulted. Andrew Rannells's glowing white grin lights up the building. Pairing superb comic timing with a textbook musical tenor, he's a class act. Bumbling along beside, Josh Gad is every bit his equal. A freak of the very best kind, his vocal gymnastics are a triumph. Nikki M. James's Nabulungi delivers a ridiculous accent with aplomb, capturing the audience's heart amongst the lewd humour. Rory O'Malley's hysterically camp Mormon steals ever scene he's in. There are loads of smaller roles all sparklingly well taken, a company show where many actors get to shine.

"The Book of Mormon" is as good as everybody says it is. A rare case of the product living up to the hype. Tickets are not the easiest things to come by however, prices sky high and it's booked up for months. For those who are prepared to put in a bit of effort however, and this show is worth the effort, the ticket lottery and standing line are a good option. Get yourself to "The Book of Mormon", a riotously fun piece of theatre.

(Review of Performance on Sunday, October 2nd at the Eugene O'Neill Theatre)

New York City Ballet Triple Bill (Ocean's/Sonnambula/WestSide)

2011-10-03T04:31:00.000+01:00

The New York City Ballet's biggest event of the fall season has been, without doubt, the premiere of Sir Paul McCartney's new ballet "Ocean's Kingdom". It's probably also going to be the event they most quickly want to forget. "Ocean's Kingdom" is a dud.

Peter Martins and McCartney's effort is glossy but thin. A full length narrative pared down to an hour, the result being that nothing makes sense on any level. The choreography is repetitive and leaden, four long duets for the romantic couple that go precisely nowhere. Childlike in some respects, but so lacking in wonder and excitement that I expect most children will be fast asleep by the end of the first scene. The only real success of the night is McCartney's music. You couldn't accuse him of pushing any musical boundaries, but his score is enchanting, a sort of Disney minimalism that transports us to this watery world far better than the weak projection designs do. The bright costumes, by Stella McCartney, have an eye catching quality though the excess of cloth hampers the dancer's lines. The dancing was solid though the principals; Sara Mearns, Robert Fairchild, Amar Ramasar and Georgina Pazcoguin can do little beyond look pretty. Daniel Ulbricht's cameo all too briefly raised the flat atmosphere, but he was a bright spot in a very long hour. "Ocean's Kingdom" has already been programmed for the NYCB's spring season, hopefully that's the last time they'll be bothering.

With "Ocean's Kingdom" left far behind, the evening picked up majestically. "La Sonnambula" is a riveting work by George Balanchine, telling more story with every little glance that Martins managed over an hour of flapping about. What it all means I'll never know, but you come to care for these characters in a hugely personal, engaging way. Wendy Whelan has lost none of her elegance or class over the last few years and displayed it all here. As the Sleepwalker she made it all too apparent why Sebastien Marcovici would chase her to his end. Gorgeous long leg lines held with radiant calm, a masterclass in dance acting. Marcovici played his part just as well, the terror mixed with joy on his face was potently effective. Of the rest, Ulbricht yet again struck gold, launching himself across the stage in a display of alarmingly impressive acrobatics. A magical forty minutes from start to finish.

The final work was the flashy and fun "West Side Story". Jerome Robbins hacked apart his own choreography from the original musical to put together this somewhat unintelligible but endlessly entertaining highlights package. Making dancers sing is never the best of ideas but it works here, particularly as Andrew Veyette is a very decent singer. The steps will be familiar to anyone who has ever seen the 1961 film, a genius blend of styles guaranteed to get the pulse racing. It's always a pleasure to hear the Bernstein score played by a full blown orchestra, and the NYCB orchestra delivered the goods wonderfully. Solidly performed by all involved, this was a treat.

As dull as "Ocean's Kingdom" sadly is, a triple bill containing "La Sonnambula" and "West Side Story" cannot fail to please. Superbly danced by all involved and the orchestra was on terrific form from start to finish. You can't have a diverse repertory without a few failures, but perhaps a bit less Martins might benefit everyone.

(Review of Performance on Thursday, September 29th, 2011 at the David H. Koch Theater)

Nabucco (Metropolitan Opera)

2011-09-30T22:07:00.000+01:00

Deary me. After Monday's radiant "Anna Bolena", I suppose it was almost inevitable that "Nabucco" would fail to live up. As it happens, it failed to live up by quite some margin, looking unrehearsed and sung by almost all involved as if being the loudest, made you the best.

The one exception to the volume rule was Carlo Colombara's hopeless Zaccaria. The multi-level set can't make projecting into the house easy, but Colombara could barely be heard at all. Conversely, Maria Guleghina is an absolute powerhouse of a singer but not always with accurate pitch and often in a painfully shrieky manner. I couldn't fault the way she dominated the stage, a powerful stage actress, but some vocal restraint was desperately needed. Yonghoon Lee seemed to get caught up in all the bawling and betrayed his attractive tenor by pushing too hard. I could take or leave Renee Tatum's cipher of a Fenena. Decently sung but she just disappeared into the scenery. Pick of the bunch by a mile was Zeljko Lucic who, after a fairly mediocre start, grew into the role of Nabucco, delivering some awesomely long phrases and managing a softness that was absent elsewhere.

The trouble for all the principals though, was that this revival does not appear to have been directed with any significant thought. Elijah Moshinsky's production probably has a lot more going for it than the posturing, arm flailing acting of this performance. The huge revolving set serves its purpose reasonably enough and the vertical elements are some of the best I've ever seen. The sheer scale of the set could be accused of overwhelming the singers, though the murky lighting directs focus extremely well in the more intimate scenes. The polarised colour palette is a bit bland; black for Baal, cream for Hebrews, but doesn't distract and effectively supports the narrative.

This really was everything opera can be, but shouldn't be. Loud, warbling singers, waving their arms in front of a giant, expensive looking, set. The orchestra, under Paolo Carignani, sounded magnificent; the overture containing more emotion than the rest of the evening. The chorus were sublime. Everything else was rambunctious and shallow. A disappointing night out, especially in light of the one that came before.

(Review of Performance on Tuesday, September 27th, 2011 at the Metropolitan Opera)

Anna Bolena (Metropolitan Opera)

2011-09-27T23:32:00.003+01:00

Divorced, Beheaded, Died. Divorced, Beheaded, Survived. Thus begins and ends my knowledge of Tudor history. Donizetti's "Anna Bolena" which opened the Metropolitan Opera's season last night takes a pretty liberal view on history anyway, the first "Beheaded" is roughly where it falls, but what a cracking tale it tells. David McVicar has provided the new production, the first in the Met's history, and a quite stunning team of singers bring the evening to blazing life.

Anna Netrebko has gradually been positioned by the Met as the Diva du Jour and on the basis of her Bolena, she absolutely deserves that title. I've never really seen her as a Bel Canto singer but reaching the end of the mad scene, "Piangete voi...", she had so spectacularly conquered this role that I'd be quite happy to hear her have another crack at "Lucia". Her plush sound has grown only more potent over the last few years and her full blooded acting more compelling. If I'm to nitpick, she did tire slightly towards the end of Act I, although the way she attacked her Cabalettas it was any wonder she lasted that long. Luckily, this tiredness seemingly vanished as she found untapped reserves for her quite magnificent assault on the second half . A glorious performance.

She was well supported by the rest of the principals. Ekaterina Gubanova has a voice you're probably going to love or hate, full bore throughout and tonally fairly one-dimensional. I'm a fan, her mezzo producing a ravishing noise that fills the building with brilliant sound with only a slightly shrillness at the top (the part lies very high). When she and Netrebko came together in Act II, the impact was simply mindblowing. The men were a touch weaker though neither of the leads failed by any means. Stephen Costello had to push pretty hard to make it from start to finish, but generally made his mark when required. His tenor sounded healthy on all but the very highest of material, and if his acting appeared to largely consist of puppy-dog looks it just about worked. Ildar Abdrazakov was perfectly cast visually, rugged good looks with a strong hint of menace, but he struggled to produce a clean sound on the low tessitura. A gravelly tone that wasn't attractive and often got washed out by the music.

The production plays things pretty straight and much praise must go to the entire creative team for creating designs that allow the evening to flow as continuous action (and going on for four hours, quick scene changes are a real blessing). McVicar finds little that is revelatory but as ever he marshalls the chorus with skill and never fails to find drama in every little moment. Even the straight stand and deliver sequences never felt static, carefully considered movement filling the stage. Robert Jones's sets evoke more atmosphere than genuine locales, sliding walls providing gloomy settings that come to life thanks to Paule Constable's painterly lighting. Particularly brilliant is the coup de theatre when the prison set emerges, switching up the stage dynamics to stunning effect and then finishing the evening on a quite gorgeous image. Much talk has been of Jenny Tiramani's costumes and they are things of beauty, though in going for overt historical accuracy it's hard to argue the men don't occasionally look overstuffed.

"Anna Bolena" is a fantastic start to the Met's season, and if the orchestra could just find a bit more verve in their reading, Marco Armiliato delivering singer friendly tempi but to the detriment of the audience, this would be a total triumph. McVicar strikes again, making great theatre to support great opera. In the end it is Netrebko's night though. A Diva who can now truly stake claim to being one of the living greats.

(Review of Gala performance on Monday, September 26th, 2011 at the Metropolitan Opera)

New York City Ballet Triple Bill (2 Part/Apollo/Mercurial)

2011-09-27T05:19:00.005+01:00

With "Swan Lake" now in the pleasantly distant past, we can get down to what the New York City Ballet (NCYB) do best. Short works. I'll be hitting up a fair few evenings over the next month, but up first was a triple of Robbins, Balanchine and Wheeldon. A delectably New York trio.

The Robbins opened the evening and whilst elegantly composed, it was the most uninteresting of the three. "2 and 3 Part Inventions" has a certain textbook quality to it, being filled with refined choreography of the most attractive kind. Yet for all the pretty arabesques, beautifully delivered by the small company of 8, I didn't get the impression of anything beneath the surface. Unlike many of Robbins' masterpieces such as "Dances at a Gathering", I never felt the inter-relationships of the dancers emerging through the steps. Just beautiful choreography, well executed.

Next up was "Apollo", a ballet that gives incredible opportunities for the dancers to really implant something of themselves on the roles. Chase Finley gave a youthful, muscular performance as the the titular god. Rough around the ages, the sharp arm movements ending too imprecisely, but showing the god's development and growing delight with aplomb. He was surrounded by a crack team of muses, Sterling Hyltin the pick of the three as a charming Terpischore. An enjoyable performance and a ballet I could see over and over again.

The third work was the newest chronologically, and in Christopher Wheeldon terms "Mercurial Maneuvers" is an early effort. His strengths shine through: clever handling of a large female corps, fracturing their grouping and never failing to fill the stage, along with a visually stunning pas de deux at the centre. But, there's a lack of focus, after a striking opening and a wonderful introduction for the lead couple, the mass of movements often blurs what really matters on stage. Tiler Peck and Tyler Angle made for a lovely central couple despite the lack of any real emotional meat.

An attractive triple that was well danced by all. None of the three works quite soared, the choreography largely accurately performed without any really imparting something greater. Finley is clearly a man to watch though, his interpretation can only grow, and the NYCB, as ever, a company whose diverse repertory never ceases to amaze.

(Review of Performance on Wednesday, September 21st, 2011 at the David H. Koch Theatre)

Zarkana

2011-09-25T23:53:00.001+01:00

I'm becoming something of a Cirque du Soleil junky. A regular dose still blowing my mind however formulaic their productions have become. "Zarkana" is very much par for the course in Cirque terms, jaw-dropping acts strung together by an unintelligible plot and a world music cum pop score. It's not up with their best though and that's pretty much for one, simple reason. The theatre itself.

The Radio City Music Hall is an auditorium like few others, an eye-popping venue for scale, but it proves itself ill suited to almost all of Cirque's acts. It's partly a design failing of the show's sets, pushing too many of the performers upstage, but to be honest, even sitting midway back in the stalls, the front of the stage felt extremely far away. It's a pity as the distance strips much of the awe from some truly impressive acts. The staging is also, for all it's plush magnificence, rather cluttered. Huge sets that draw the eye away from the action rather than focusing it. Seldom are the performers given stage time without competition from a myriad of backing dancers and enormous video screens. The plot is totally unintelligible but it hardly matters since at least the slick engineering keeps the different scenes constantly flowing.

The best of the acts opens the second half, a high flying trapeze display that makes best use of the enormous width and height of the stage. As the acrobats soar above the tension and excitement is palpable. Too much of the rest is impressive but so distant as to feel unreal and fake. An over-sexed juggler whose skill is lost in the middle of the huge set, ladder balancing you need binoculars to see clearly and a Russian Bar act that comes and goes without making any impact at all. I liked the theory behind the flag throwers, a highly visual performance, though sadly they were the weakest act of the night, dropping flags left, right and centre.

The best amplification of an act comes from the ethereal projections behind the amazingly lithe Anatoliy Zalevskiy. Here the designs actually enhanced what is otherwise a fairly compressed performance. There was some beauty to the aerial duet, and their soaring arcs just about made it across the footlights as well. The circus-cheerleading fusion that forms the finale had a nice flair to it, though it was a terrible pity that the show then closed with an absolutely dreadful pop-lite duet for Garou and Cassiopeé, the two singers who flit about the whole show without ever making much sense.

Zarkana is an undeniably glossy, high-production value, and generally fun, show. The venue though really lets it down, so devoid of immediacy that incredible artists risking their lives, occasionally ended up feeling bland.

(Review of Performance on Wednesday, September 21st, 2011 at the Radio City Music Hall)

Atys

2011-09-23T02:08:00.001+01:00

This production of Lully's "Atys" has been much lauded by just about everyone and it's hard to deny it is a spectacularly beautiful evening; filled with gorgeous music, fabulous costumes and breathtaking singing. So far so good. For all these superlatives though, what I couldn't describe "Atys" as, is great theatre.

At four hours in length, the pacing is decidedly baroque. After a confusing, and frankly ill-thought out, prologue, the production finds its feet. These impressively slippered feet however, move at a snails pace. Making a fetish out of static staging (not unlike the rather more coherent "Artaxerxes" production of a couple of years ago), the dreamlike atmosphere is carefully conjured, but not a little somnambulant. It all seems very deliberate, but to no particular dramatic end. The choreography is a novelty, but evokes nothing other than "look how courtly we are", being so stuck in its period rut as to be almost entirely superfluous to the narrative drive. It's not a period production as such but nor does it appear to be making any attempt to launch itself into the 21st century.

Whatever one might think of the production, the musical standards are wonderfully high. William Christie is always a pleasure to have in the pit and beating his band, Les Art Florissants, Lully's crisp, delicate music came across in all its glory. Top honours vocally, must surely go to the absolutely mesmerising soprano of Emmanuelle de Negri. Her delicacy and precision were spellbinding. Anna Reinhold offered impeccable contrast with her darker hued Cybele. I could quibble over a slight lack of agility in Ed Lyon's voice, but when he floats out his golden top, the world seems a brighter place. There were many other superb singers in the smaller roles (this opera has a great many soloist roles) and the chorus were excellent throughout. Cameo of the evening goes to Bernard Deletré's witty Sangar, about the only performance that had genuine character in more than just the voice.

I can see why people go nuts for this sort of thing, it's easy to appreciate the quality of the music making, but as a piece of theatre, "Atys" isn't terribly effective. Elegantly design and staged, but without a hint of excitement.

(Review of Performance on Tuesday, September 20th, 2011 at the Brooklyn Academy of Music, Howard Gilman Opera House)

The Little Dog Laughed

2011-09-20T22:57:00.001+01:00

For waspish, caustic wit you couldn't do much better than Diane in Douglas Carter Beane's enormously funny "The Little Dog Laughed". She is the lynch pin of this hysterical, but not altogether insightful, play currently revived Off-Off-Broadway by the Gallery Players.

"Little Dog" is, at its heart, something of a love story between two very different men. One a fast rising Hollywood star, the other a rent-boy. The thrust of the play is meant to be an exploration of what it means to be gay in Hollywood. Unfortunately, the reality is that it's just two hours of spiked jokes. Attempts at something more are constantly undermined by the need to squeeze another joke in. It's the one-liners that stick in the memory, I'll never forget one outrageous line about boy scouts, not the more heartfelt relationship that should be the core of the evening.

The cast and production team have done a pretty good job of developing what emotional drama there is. They keep the pace up and limit the dominance of Diane over all else. Jake Mendes and Brian W. Seibert deliver a vivid and almost moving courtship (as moving as the text will allow). Seibert lends Mitchell, the movie star, a powerful loneliness giving the production a soul, however deeply buried. Tania Verafield's Ellen slips slightly more in stereotype but you could hardly fault her comic timing. Despite the best efforts of everyone, it's still Maeve Yore's Diane that rules. Yore doesn't present a caricature, she fleshes out this sharp-tongued Hollywood agent to create something almost demonic.

"The Little Dog Laughed" never amounts to much, but it is a wickedly funny night out. Given a top-draw staging here, possibly better than the piece really deserves; well designed for the space and terrifically acted. The Gallery Players have done mighty fine work with this one.

(Review of performance on Friday, September 16th, 2011 at the Gallery Players Theatre)

Voca People

2011-09-18T23:46:00.001+01:00

This should have been awful. An hour and a half of a cappella strung together by end of the pier, comedy schtick. Heck, just looking at the Voca People brings me out in hives. The first three minutes made me want to cry. Yet ninety minutes later, I can only say I had a whale of a time.

The Voca People is a simple idea, well executed. Eight performers delivering clever vocal arrangements of popular songs with no support but their own voices. The narrative that is slung around this music isn't really up to snuff, every time one of them bleated, "musica is life, life is musica", I wanted to evacuate the building, but these weird all-white people gradually grew on me. In the end I found them, though still annoying, mostly sweetly endearing. The comedy is gently humorous rather than laugh out loud funny, with some weird, overtly sexual moments in an otherwise child friendly show, but the evening has a smile inducing quality that is hard to deny.

Musically, the performers are good rather than amazing. For a show about harmony singing, delivering a few duff notes wasn't ideal. There are some great vocals across the evening, but the consistency wasn't always there. All eight performers charm, the identical thick make-up allows no one to really stand out, and if some of the humour flounders, much succeeds thanks to the commitment of the cast. The staging is clever; simple choreography dominating, with limited physical set but some ace lighting giving the evening a concert feel.

The Voca People aren't quite the new Blue Man Group, the global domination model they clearly strive for, but their success is easy to understand. Solid singing and amiable comedy building towards an evening whose warmth and universality is impossible to deny. Go in with an open mind and you just might find yourself pleasantly surprised.

(Review of performance on Thursday, September 15th, 2011 at the Westside Theatre)

Man and Boy

2011-09-16T22:58:00.002+01:00

The Rattigan fever seems to have crossed the pond with this revival of "Man and Boy". A reworked version of the Maria Aitken's West End staging from 2004, when it had David Suchet in the central role. I saw that then and was utterly compelled. Now, several years on, I still find it a strong piece, though there's a certain stagey-ness to the dialogue that wasn't helped by some of the performances. Currently in previews so some fine-tuning will no doubt occur over the next couple of weeks, but there are structural problems to the text that I can't imagine will be overcome.

The play takes place in continuous time, in a single location and the designs do excellent work in evoking place and period. A detailed 1930s basement flat in Greenwich Village with a cunning cut-through wall dividing the space into a living area and separate bedroom. The subtle lighting is the only hint of non-naturalism, elegant shifts intensifying moments in the drama. The play is a naturally claustrophobic one and the staging could do little better in enhancing that compressed tension.

Much hinges on Frank Langella's Gregor Antonescu, a financier whose empire is on the brink of collapse. Without wanting to give too much away, "Man and Boy" doubles as a financial thriller and a family drama, the story follows Antonescu as his empire falls and his only place of refuge is in the flat of his estranged son. Antonescu is a magnetic figure and Langella does amazingly well at bringing that to the fore. The way he manipulates Mark Herries, played by Zach Grenier, the only person who could save his companies, is brilliantly believable. It is only in the final moments that you realise that there's something missing from his portrayal. For all the stage presence, Langella can't overcome a nagging feeling that the characters don't quite ring true.

Some of this is no doubt in the text which, especially considering the fierce realism of the story, doesn't always come across as genuine. Virginia Kull's Carol does not sound or act like a real person, too quick to accept a rapidly changing situation, she comes across flat. The Countess, played by Francesca Faridany, seeks something more rounded but just falls short. Michael Siberry's Sven largely overcame the obvious, cold stereotype of a loyal aid, but that was thanks to an extremely well pitched performance. High praise must go to Adam Driver as Antonescu's son. Here the full depth of character is really mined, the trauma of being pushed away by his father balancing against the innate bond between a child and his parent.

In the last year I've been lucky enough to catch four Rattigan plays, and this is the least successful. That's not to say there isn't much to enjoy here, the two and a bit hours simply flew by, but when it came down to it, the full significance of the action did not hit home. An excellent production of a very interesting play, but one that never quite makes you care, quite as much as you want to.

(Review of preview performance on Wednesday, September 14th, 2011 at the American Airlines Theatre)

Swan Lake (New York City Ballet)

2011-09-13T23:00:00.000+01:00

I don't really associate the New York City Ballet (NYCB) with big, full length works and off the back of their "Swan Lake", that's probably a good thing. Peter Martins's production is not a successful one. Much of the dancing was excellent, but the entire evening is hamstrung by poor storytelling and some of the most hideous designs imaginable.

Martins uses much of the traditional Petipa/Ivanov staging, but injects plenty of his own ideas as well. There are pros and cons to this tampering. On the plus side, his additions are often choreographically interesting, especially the Pas de Quatre in Act III. On the rather larger negative side, none of his additions help to drive the story forward, that same Pas de Quatre is superfluous dramatically, and many fail to cohere with the majority of the classical dance. His complex, fast footwork, in combination with Faycal Karoui's insanely fast tempi, result in even the best of the dancing having a flustered feel. The relentless drive to the conclusion leaves little time for the drama to breathe. The adjusted finale just about works, though it feels more intellectually constructed than emotionally wrought.

The designs are truly grim. The sets sufficiently abstract and spartan as to evoke nothing even approaching a physical setting. Visually interesting on some level, but utterly inept at generating atmosphere. The costumes are either hysterical or horrible depending on your attitude. The Swans are mercifully still white, but everyone else is dressed in bright, single colours. Siegfried looks like a total buffoon bedecked in all blue, the queen wears a ruffle that makes her look like a character out of "Blackadder" and the chocolate marble cake outfits that most of the corps wear in Act III evoke no response but laughter. I wasn't crying because of the drama.

If the production in no way befits a company of the NYCB's stature, at least there was much to enjoy from the dancers. Ashley Bouder's Odette provided the composed centre that the evening desperately needed. Perhaps lacking a certain emotional vulnerability, more skittish than doomed, but her precise, lyrical dancing washed away all minor complaints. Her Odile was even better, less vampish than many, she foxily toyed with Siegfried in a wickedly compelling manner. Andrew Veyette's Siegfried oozed grandeur, his endless legs truly magnificent, and he provided a handsome partner to Bouder. Best of the rest was Daniel Ulbricht's spectacular Jester, offering incredible spins and leaps whilst making them look absolutely effortless. Almost all the supporting dancing was decent, the national dances of Act III were taken with aplomb and the Swan corps beautifully synchronised.

On most counts the NYCB's "Swan Lake" is pretty poor. Badly told, with dull sets, awful costumes and an orchestra playing at warp speed. Yet once Bouder and Veyette come together, all is largely forgiven. The company transcend the rubbish that surrounds them, making this pleasant enough theatre if highly unsatisfactory emotionally. Over the next couple of months I'll be catching plenty of the NYCB's diverse and fascinating repertory, hopefully their "Swan Lake" will not linger too long in the memory.

Completeness

2011-09-10T22:00:00.000+01:00

I'm steadily scoping out the various quirky venues around New York, they are many, but thanks to a recommendation from one of my Uni Professors: I've found my new Royal Court. Playwrights Horizons was the birthplace of "Clybourne Park" amongst many other amazing plays and it has now produced "Completeness" a similarly impressive if not quite so successful new play.

Itamar Moses has done his research. "Completeness" is a rom-com of sorts, centering on the relationships of various science graduate students. Over the course of the evening, endless scientific language is delivered, all accurate, and all in the service of furthering a very human story. This isn't "The Big Bang Theory" on stage (much as I love that show), the major characters are all 3 dimensional and totally relatable. Moses comes unstuck a little however, because, in trying to avoid a trite conclusion, the play ends up a little self-indulgent and unfocused. The second half meanders far too much, long speeches reiterating ideas that were better constructed in the sprightly first half. A brief, rather forced, meta-theatrical moment also fails to cohere, the point made not worth the jolt that it created.

You couldn't really ask for a better production than the one Pam MacKinnon provides here, though the doubling of parts for some of the cast occasionally leaves something to be desired. Looking at the office set that begins the evening, I scarcely imagined quite how adaptable the designs would be. A bedroom that emerges from the wall whilst a desk slips through the floor, shifts in lighting suddenly dragging us from science lab to street corner. The elegance of the staging carries over into the acting of the lead romantic pair, Karl Miller and Aubrey Dollar perfectly pitching their ever morphing romantic entanglement. The supporting pair of Meredith Forlenza and Brian Avers however, are forced into three bit pit parts each, and in a heavily naturalistic piece the effect is caricature. Avers in particular, is forced to play an older supervisor and a young student with both ending up artificial.

For all its flaws, "Completeness" is a richly enjoyable show. The first half is vastly more effective than the second but for all the wandering, I was sufficiently drawn to the characters that I remained gripped to the conclusion. An excellent production and the stellar lead pair drive the emotions home. Well worth a look and I'll certainly be heading back to Playwrights Horizons for whatever they produce next.

Catch Me If You Can

2011-09-01T19:00:00.000+01:00

Retro or derivative? I fear "Catch Me If You Can" might well be the most painfully conventional and unoriginal new piece of musical theatre I've ever seen. Closing this weekend, Broadway will not be any the worse off without it.

There's so little right about "Catch Me" it's difficult to know where to start. That's not to say there's a lot wrong, there isn't, it's just all so utterly middling. The script is passably funny and the narrative solid enough. The score has a few good numbers but is otherwise just a wash of samey, faux-sixties tunes. Huge production numbers alternate with more tender moments and neither raise the heart beat much. The staging gains a lot of mileage from putting the band on-stage, but goes nowhere with the cheap and unimaginative trap doors at the front of the stage. These just bring furniture or people on and off with a dull repetition and a slight whir. The lighting is brightly exciting in the bluntest of manners, the sets and costumes would shame a cruise liner for class. I've got to question, A: why anyone bothered in the first place and B: whether anyone on the creative team was actually trying (it beggars belief that Terrence McNally, who has written many great plays including "Master Class", was involved here)?

The cast are a generally finer bunch than the musical deserves. Frank Abagnale, Jr becomes terribly unlikeable in this adaptation (a far cry from DiCaprio's effort on screen) but Aaron Tveit does his best to inject some charisma into the part. He's got a terrific belting tenor and just about carries the show, but there's no heart to be found despite his best efforts. Norbert Leo Butz comes the closest in that respect, but lacking depth, even his startling dance moves and sprightly comic timing don't make the piece work. The rest of the cast largely flap about in smaller roles, Tom Wopat and Kerry Butler are fairly memorable though Butler bizarrely struggled to hold pitch in her big number "Fly, Fly Away".

As you can probably tell I didn't much enjoy this. It's not terrible per se, just so mediocre as to be a complete waste of time. Lots of energy to very little effect. There are only a few performances left but this is one show that just isn't worth catching.

Master Class

2011-08-30T16:00:00.000+01:00

Two "Master Class" productions inside of a year, it's like Christmas come early for the opera/theatre lover. This Broadway revival is a plusher affair than the low key UK Touring production but it's also a weaker one. Tyne Daly takes the central role of Maria Callas and turns in a beautifully elegant but rather too grounded portrayal.

"Masterclass" does largely what it says on the tin: dramatising an imaginary masterclass given by Callas to a series of young opera singers. The focus however, is on the inner turmoil of Callas, the most interesting passages occurring as the other characters recede into the darkness and Callas stands alone recalling her past. It's an exquisite examination of a larger than life figure, littered with wonderful anecdotes and quips, but much hinges on the leading lady. The fact it is a slightly clinical study in humanity results in moments that drag, with little forward momentum, but the quality of the dialogue means the longueurs seldom linger.

Daly does extremely well in some respects, holding the stage like a true diva, the focus always on her no matter what the other characters are doing. Yet there's something rather too earthy about her portrayal, lacking the proud magic that brings the piece to life. If she isn't a semi-mythic figure then why should we stay rapt through her innermost thoughts? The supporting performers are first rate though they are very much supporting players. Sierra Boggess and Alexandra Silber both do solid work as the female students being picked over by Callas, fleshing out roles that largely act as devices for bringing out the depth of Callas. Garrett Sorenson raised a fair few smiles as a bumptious tenor but his part is even more caricature than the others.

For all its contrived structure "Masterclass" is a gripping piece of theatre. It hinges heavily on the strength of its leading lady and Daly does very, if not spectacularly, well. The production by Stephen Wadsworth looks glossy enough and occasionally thrills, especially with some clever lighting effects; careful use of darkness creating a wonderful sense of solitude during the long monologues. Closing soon so you'll have to act fast but as an educational, insightful evening this is most definitely worth a look.

Rent

2011-08-29T20:00:00.000+01:00

I wasn't lucky enough to catch the original Broadway production of "Rent". I've seen it in a variety of forms, multiple student productions and an ill fated West End reworking, but none have ever made me quite understand why so many people went nuts for this musical back in the nineties. On the back of this revival, from the original director, I now totally can.

"Rent" isn't a perfect piece by any means but despite no longer catching the zeitgeist of the age it hits home emotionally with a terrifying precision. Like many great operas, and based on 'La Boheme" this is more operatic than the rock score might suggest, 'Rent" tells a very human story that transcends the period in which it is set. The new frenetic staging captures the anger of the setting, the last stand of "bohemia" in the face of commercial onslaught. The compressed design works terrifically well, the scaffolding like structures maneuvering to adapt the space to different locales with help from the suitably garish lighting. The choreography is all a bit full-on, lacking subtlety and shading, and the projections are a touch superfluous but in all other regards it's a perfectly pitched production.

The casting is similarly first rate. Matthew Shingledecker tackles Roger with the all the rockstar brilliance the part deserves, his rock tenor difficult to better. Adam Chanler-Berat lacks at times the vocal flexibility that the role of Mark requires, but comes through thanks to his charismatic, engaging persona. MJ Rodriguez is ludicrously lithe and sexy as Angel and much the same could be said of Arianda Fernandez's fiery Mimi. Nicholas Christopher and Corbin Reid hold up the more mature characters beautifully, Christopher delivers a moment of poignancy that is absolutely heartrending. The only slight weakness is in Annaleigh Ashford too clean cut Maureen, solid vocals and acting but the darkness was missing.

A thrilling night out. "Rent" is now a period piece and yet it is utterly universal in its emotion and drama. The score remains a stunning one, packed with memorable tunes and melodies. I hope this runs off-Broadway at the "New World Stages" for a very long time. I'll certainly be back and I suspect many others will be as well.

How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying

2011-08-24T03:34:00.013+01:00

I knew little of "How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying" before entering but it rapidly dawned on me this is just "Promises, Promises" with a bit more bounce. Fun and frivolous with a wickedly funny, if outrageously misogynistic, bite but there's little meat beneath the saucy surface.

With Daniel Radcliffe's face beaming from every poster much rests on his shoulders. He's a talented guy, a genuine triple threat, but just occasionally I got the impression he was trying to be a star rather than actually being one. A strong performance but not a natural one. The same cannot be said of John Larroquette who isn't a terribly good singer or dancer but gives an overall performance of incredible wit and class. He had the audience in stitches with every little gesture. The women are doomed to rather thin, caricature material but both Rose Hemingway and Tammy Blanchard did fabulously with what they were given. Ellen Harvey's battle-axe of a secretary went down an absolute treat.

Rob Ashford's production has a strong whiff of deja-vu about it, being roughly identical to "Promises, Promises" in staging as well as narrative. Sadly this isn't as interesting visually, coming off as a plastic version of the sixties period rather than a genuine evocation of it. There's some spectacle to be had and Ashford's choreography is always fun, if rather limited in scope, but there's more that is efficient than inspired. The sets slide on and off slickly enough and the pink and purple colour palette is never less than pleasant on the eye but it all just feels a bit fake. Functional rather than artful.

Completely shallow stuff and at times heartless as well but despite all the negatives, "How to Succeed in Business" is weirdly good fun. Plenty of outrageous jokes, well delivered and a score with a fair few winning tunes propelling along the evening at a fare lick. I had a whale of a time for the duration, just don't ask me to describe the show in a couple of weeks, I'll probably only remember Larroquette hopping about in his winningly camp manner.

Die Zauberflöte (Dell'Arte Opera Ensemble)

2011-08-22T00:52:00.014+01:00

With the summer months holding few operatic delights, especially now I've been ripped away from Glyndebourne, I jumped at the chance to catch Dell'Arte Opera Ensemble's production of "Die Zauberflöte".

Dell'Arte are an opera company whose mission statement makes them more than worth supporting. They give young, fresh faced singers the chance to learn and perform full length roles from the standard repertory. The idea is not just that they give strong performances here but also that they gain a leg up in furthering their careers. The emphasis is placed very much on the singers which is lucky as the production was nothing to write home about.

In fact it was pretty poor. Budgets are obviously tight but that doesn't really excuse the extreme paucity of ideas. It's an even less impressive production when you consider the know-it-all programme article by the directors, Susan Gonzalez and Steven Jude Tietjen, that offers much analysis, none of which appears on stage. Barebones designs with a smattering of blunt Masonic imagery that leads us nowhere and a staging that fails the singers. Limited direction left the principals floundering. The decision to sing in German but speak in English worked well, though attempts at colloquial humour largely failed.

The standards of singing were about what you'd expect from a company of this nature. Lots of promise but not a lot of finish. There were some strong performances and some rather weak ones but I'll dwell on the positives as there isn't much point in slaughtering singers at this stage in their careers. Erik French Bagger sang a capable and rather darkly hued Tamino. He struggled dramatically but so did the majority in this production. Kathryn Janssen was probably the pick of the cast producing a mature sounding Pamina, slightly inconsistent vibrato my only complaint. Stephanie Lowd struggled with "Die Hölle Rache", as do many, but gave a decent impression of the Queen overall. Dmitri Ribero offered a curiously accented but otherwise likeable Papageno. Hans Tashjian's beanpole of a Sarastro impressed with his solid bass notes and charming persona though his register shifts were not completely clean. The tiny orchestra under Samuel McCoy lost much of the orchestral texturing, the string section reduced to a single player, but captured at least the flavour of the work.

A slow afternoon entirely due to the dud production. Regardless, Dell'Arte Opera are the sort of company that deserve to be championed and the hard work showed off in much of the singing. I can't imagine any superstars will emerge from this cast but no one involved, both on-stage and in the audience, can have done anything but gained from their experiences here.

Sleep No More (Punchdrunk)

2011-08-21T07:29:00.016+01:00

Punchdrunk are a theatre company like few others, their conjured worlds can be breathtakingly beautiful. They are also a company who haven't managed to much evolve in the last few years. The strengths of their work remain the same but so unfortunately do the limitations and, more to the point, "Sleep No More" does not even demonstrate them at their best.

For any who haven't stumbled across their work before, Punchdrunk take over buildings and completely reconfigure the space. They meticulously craft environments, the detail is incredible, for the audience to walk through in whatever manner they like. The actor/dancers perform within this space and it's entirely up to you what you watch and what you don't. The brilliance of this is the sense of exploration and the excitement it creates, every corner holds secrets and surprises. Sadly in "Sleep No More" far too many corners hide black masked figures who tell you to turn around. The sense of poking into every nook and cranny horrendously blunted.

The double-edge of the (relative) freedom is that the story telling is poor. "Sleep No More" has Macbeth as its basis but only in the loosest of senses. The repeating structure, the performance occurs twice in a row, allows you to see multiple scenes that otherwise occur at the same time but this doesn't really help since you probably won't work out who all the characters are for at least the first run through. Confusing doesn't begin to cover it. The structure of the show places a huge amount of emphasis on the central hall space. It's beautifully lit, but yet again this crowd control undermines the "choice" element of the evening. If you make it to the end, the finale is not what it should be. Compared with their "Duchess of Malfi" (which to be fair was absolutely dire up until the conclusion), the final moments here could only be described as a damp squib. Heck, I wasn't even sure it was over.

Perhaps the biggest disappointment with this show over some of Punchdrunk's previous is that the one on one events seem to have been marginalized. I'll never forget my first entrapment in a room with just me and an actress and I didn't get a sniff of anything like it in "Sleep No More" (I only saw one other person engaged in such an experience and knocking on doors got me absolutely nowhere all night). The audience to actor ratio seems to have tipped irritatingly in favour of audience, the voyeuristic qualities limited by the sheer volume of people milling about.

For any first timers "Sleep No More" will, I have no doubt, be an experience like none other. For everyone who's seen this schtick before, this is a less impressive show than several that have come before. Bigger and bolder in some respects, but without the intimacy that has made Punchdrunk so successful.

The Eternal Husband (FringeNYC)

2011-08-17T23:02:00.007+01:00

Nat Cassidy's adaptation of Dostoyevsky's "The Eternal Husband", currently running as part of FringeNYC, has pretty much everything. Moments of sheer terror mixed with darkly funny humour; a romantic core with a violent exterior. But my gosh does it work.

Running at a mere seventy five minutes there isn't a dull moment. Yet, it is not just the excitement that is so impressive but the careful layers of thoughtful philosophy. Too often theatre of this nature, especially adaptations, cloud supposed intelligence in thick layers of bafflingly obtuse content. Cassidy doesn't. He makes the material work on its own terms, pacing things beautifully, letting the shocking conclusion breathe rather than overwhelm. There are some weaknesses The noirish elements don't totally gel, the simple lighting failing to project the required shadows and atmosphere. The door that could so dominate just sits at the side looking lumpish and uninspired. The fourth character, Claudia, struggles to be more than a means to an end, crucial to the plot but strangely peripheral to it. Yet for all these criticisms taken as a whole I was utterly entranced.

At least some of this enchantment is down to the cast conjuring fully formed characters with all the skilled required of a play that begins and ends almost within an hour. The opening moments of Charles E. Gerber's "Old Man" offer the only bum notes of the evening, reaching for atmosphere and failing to find it but from then on the interplay between Gerber and Arthur Aulisi's Younger Man springs into life. Aulisi finds the comedy in every possible moment, even at the most horrifying times he finds room to make us laugh, a welcome release valve from the taut drama. The women are pushed into secondary roles but Elyse Mirto plays the femme fetale with compelling sex appeal. Karen Sternberg plays Claudia, dangerously close to a theatrical device but she still manages to make her a fairly three dimensional character.

An impressive piece of work by any standards. What flaws exist waste away into insignificance thanks to the sheer brio of the cast and creative team. I'd love to see Cassidy's adaptation given a slightly more polished production, the scope for terror could only increase, but at the tiny La MaMa theatre this is still, in every way, worth a look.

Fourteen Flights (FringeNYC)

2011-08-16T02:35:00.009+01:00

I've never been strong on fringe theatre but with FringeNYC, the New York International Fringe Festival, happening practically on my new door step, I jumped at the chance to catch a few of the shows. First up for me was "Fourteen Flights" at the Clemente Soto Vélez Cultural and Educational Center (or CSV for short), a maze of low key venues, and more specifically the Kabayitos puppet theatre within it. A conventional setting for an aeroplane thriller this was not.

To write a two and a half hour play essentially made up of overlapping monologues was certainly ambitious. All credit to Ryan Campbell, he has created two fully fleshed characters with speech of harsh wit and meticulous intelligence. However, the strength of the characters sadly fails to flow through into the drama. It takes till the half-way point, well over an hour in, for us to move from fractured back-story to something that felt immediate. There's a third character who appears only at the beginning and the end; a neat bookend device but his opening monologue is thrown away. Too much, too early, I spent more time puzzling over him than concentrating on what mattered.

The staging was unsurprisingly spartan, the Fringe is not the place for lavish spectacle, but worked well. Separating the audience was a novel quirk, albeit one that halves the capacity, and the tiny auditorium did much for maintaining what tension there was. The simple lighting brought subtle shifts to the space though the use of the seating aisle as an acting space felt more contrived than dramatically necessary. The lead pair were excellent. Jared Houseman's OCD pilot bubbles wonderfully with stress and pent-up emotion. Matt MacNelly's perfect comic timing was the only thing sustaining my concentration in the middle section of the overlong first half and he handled the slide into madness with remarkable skill.

For all the verve of the production and much of the writing, "Fourteen Flights" fails to hang together as a coherent whole. An excessive running time with limited forward momentum meant that as the pace ratcheted up in the second half I struggled to really care. Interesting and packed with clever moments but ultimately rather unengaging.