Turandot at the Royal Opera House

Daunting death masks, ever-present uncanny and distorted monstrosities, overshadow the stage at the Royal Opera House. In ancient Peking princess Turandot has her suitors executed if they’re not able to answer her three riddles. It might not be a radical new version of Puccini’s piece but the handling of the melodramatic twists and some of the most beautiful arias in music history guarantee an opera evening of the highest standard. This is the 15th revival of Andrei Serban’s 1984 production and it rightly is a favourite.

Even after 30 years the look of the show with Sally Jacob’s design is still spectacular. Streaks of red everywhere hint at Turandot’s bloody reign in the name of self-protection. Her icy demeanour says it all – she knows that men can take women by force if they are not careful. Does she have the right to kill these men to protect herself from the same fate her predecessor experienced? This version of Puccini’s initially unfinished masterpiece explores this question in a play-in-the-play setting. The chorus are viewers of a theatrical piece themselves and are for the most part arranged around the action in a high, wooden viewing platform. In this theatre in the round we look down on a stereotyped vision of Peking of ancient times and see the love triangle between Calaf, Lui and the principessa play out. They out-riddle, woe and torture each other and it’s truly a spectacle extraordinaire.

Kate Flatt’s movement concept is based on the meditative martial arts Tai Chi and has the chorus swivelling around the main performers in light but unsettling circles. The menacing dances enforce the threat Turandot’s riddles pose to potential suitors. Ping, Pong and Pang, too, give for these character fairly uncommon physical performances but there are quieter moments beyond their teasing and cartwheeling. In their lament ‘Ho una casa nell’Honan’ the timbres of Dionysius Sourbis, David Butt Philip and Doug Jones complement each other beautifully. The henchmen long for their home but they know they won’t escape Turandot’s violent reign which they have long become complicit in.

Whereas Turandot’s initial immobility is very fitting to her cold character, Marco Berti’s expressionless Calaf undermines some of the other well-placed visually vibrant movement decisions. Vocally performed solidly by tenor Berti suitor Calaf ends up a somewhat unsympathetic player in the love triangle, dismissing the true love and obsessively pursuing a woman as a prize. Sadly Berti’s acting lacks complete conviction and so the initial conquering of Turandot at the end of the second act is devastating to watch only thanks to Lise Lundstrom losing all composure. In these scenes of mixed emotion conductor Henrik Nánási manages to delicately balance the menacing undertones of the music that always lurk under each celebratory turn. Eri Nakamura’s Liu is the true gem in this production as can be seen in her ‘Signore, ascolta!’ – her last plead for Calaf to abandon the challenge. Her voice is subtle and her performance touching.

This is a more than watchable production that ticks all the right boxes. However, if you consider other Turandot productions it all comes across as a bit well behaved. Some of the more questionable character developments and motives might need a fresh, critical directorial eye. One wonders if the London audience isn’t due a more modern and gutsy Turandot?

Everybody’s problem: As Is at the Finborough Theatre

The great American play about the AIDS epidemic might be the 1990s Angels in America, but William M. Hoffman’s *As Is*, having premiered six years before Angels, is more raw and shows the initial anger connected with the outbreak of the disease. It highlights the immediacy of a time in which a whole city seemed to fear for its life. To tell this story now might be more important then ever. At the Finborough Theatre.

Here is some news for you: people are messy and full of contradictions. When they become sick they don’t suddenly turn into pitiable martyrs. The life of a young New York poet gets turned upside down when he contracts HIV and splits up with his partner. Rich (Tom Colley) is angry about what’s happening to him, his community and his body. His mood swings and rage make him a rather unsympathetic character. It’s an energetic performance by Colley, who has great chemistry with the nuanced David Poyner playing his overbearingly supportive ex Saul. The squabbling, the promiscuity, the self-centeredness or devotion of the characters – in its examination of personal relationships, reaction of family, friends and co-workers, As Is is truthful and touching.

Set in and around the AIDS hospice St Vincent’s in Greenwich Village, the play exposes the very real struggles of that time. Around 1985, when the play originally premiered, the death toll shook the tightly knit gay community of New York. It was the nightmarish crash of a subculture that only a few years before had soared to its own liberation. The play presents these wild days in a stylised fashion with ecstatic cocaine-fuelled crescendoes, leather clones and surreal Greek choir-like scene overlaps. There are a few slightly risqué and outrageous bits, but those are never to merely shock but to create a fast-paced, heaving and sweaty melancholia for a time gone by.

Counterbalanced with quiet revelations in life support meetings or on phone help lines, there are just so many facets to this production, from the very poignant to the tragically funny. And that’s what people do in the face of death: they laugh, deny, get angry, make up and screw up.

It’s a wonderful achievement from the cast, who stay on stage most of the time, and their costume changes happen on stage for the audience to see. Phil Lindley’s design, full of great details, with a big dominating arch, gym lockers, hints of scaffolding structures and sleazy, grimy undertones, provides them with a space that is very much of the era and serves as a bar, a club or hospital room.

Claire Kissane’s fervent hospice worker shows that even when you yourself are not affected by hardship, you can still feel connected to those who are and play your part to in helping to overcome public indifference. Paul Standell and Anna Tiernay deliver strong performances as the multiple characters that make up the community. It’s Jordan Bernarde, however, who manages to give real punch to his characters, all of which are authentic and distinct in their very own way.

As Is is not only an artefact of its time vibrantly brought to life through Andrew Keates’ direction; it is also an alarming reminder that the sidelining of an entire part of society can happen when there is no compassion or urge to understand and solidarise. Maybe a clearer hint towards more recent LGBT issues wouldn’t have gone amiss, but it’s definitely a production that works in its own right. It should be seen by everyone, not just people who are interested in gay rights and history.

We’re all mad here: Alice in Wonderland at St Paul’s Church, Covent Garden

The Actor’s Church in Covent Garden is a true gem. Amidst the bustle of tourists, vendors and street performers it is an island of tranquility. Iris Theatre regularly turn the garden and the church itself into the stage for their summer outdoor performances. Their new production of Alice is cute and funny, but the story disappointingly flimsy.

To get the audience into the right mood, we are ushered through the “looking glass” and walk around a church moat filled with distorting mirrors and strange noises. We arrive in a world full of curious circus performers, and the mood is truly set for a lovingly homage to Lewis Carroll’s source material.

Soon enough Alice shows up and we shrink with her into a world of rude rabbits (hares, sorry, my mistake!), caterpillars and silly playing cards. Alice struggles to find her way through Wonderland in search of her name and Laura Wickham (as the only female cast member) fits into her role perfectly. Wickham’s clear and strong singing voice is a highlight of her performance.

I remember being awfully frightened by the Queen of Hearts when I was a child – and the Cheshire Cat just wasn’t trustworthy, was he? From the outset, there is not much unsettledness in this show, which has a childlike approach to all of these weird characters. They are more like a group of entertainingly deranged friends playing charades. This becomes most evident in the character of the Queen, played confidently by the compelling David Baynes.

Daniel Winder’s adaptation, unfortunately, doesn’t elevate this production over a mere panto funfair ride. Alice repeatedly exclaims that she doesn’t know her name, and as narrative motors go this one’s certainly not strong enough to justify two and a half hours of whacky shenanigans. A lot of the adult audience seemed to enjoy themselves, but this is ideally suited for children, for it is them who have to endure adults constantly reprimanding them. In the course of the production Alice too finds herself being called “idle”, “wrong”, “nothing” and “dull” – and I’m sure some of the kids could relate!

Most of the time directorial choices and the design (Andy Pilbeam-Brown for set and Emma Devonald for costume) are truly inventive, and the cast brave the innumerable character changes and the doubling up admirably. Nick Howard-Brown gives a great Mad Hatter and invites the audience to the famously tea-less tea party.

It would, however, have been a lot more fun if it hadn’t outstayed its welcome. A last scene in the church that redeems the lingering production to a degree is beautifully lit and has a wonderful set piece and great closing song. A more intimate evening focusing on creating a meaningful story would probably have highlighted the strengths of this production more. As it is, there are some stretches that feel superfluous or overly long.

Most of it is mildly amusing, and works best when songs are used to illustrate Alice’s stage in her personal journey. If you decide to see it, look out for the adorably kooky rendition of the caterpillar song performed by Matt Wilman and his accompanying eggs. Singing eggs, yep!

Bawdy stories with angelic sounds: Gabriel at Shakespeare’s Globe

Exciting things continue to happen at the Globe all the time. With this piece of new writing, playwright Samuel Adamson celebrates the music of Henry Purcell and give us a dramatic insight into England in the 1690s. In Gabriel, dramatic vignettes are interwoven with the music of Purcell: a piece about trumpet music has never been so entertaining.

The exceptional trumpet talent Alison Balsom was looking for a chance to perform at the Globe and to show off the more dulcet tones of the natural trumpet. The result is far less self-indulgent than one might expect, and highlights yet again the chutzpa of a theatre that dares to put fresh theatrical concepts in front of its audience.

The structure of Gabriel is deceptively simple: fictionalised slices of life from the 1690s, sometimes with historical people, come to life and are interspersed with music. The reign of Queen Mary is a contradictory period in the country’s history, full of pomp and artistic reinvention, but at the same time war-shaken and disease ridden. These contradictions are sewn into every fibre of the play: the characters, the overall structure of the play and, most prominently, the music.

Rather brilliantly (with only little shoehorning), all the stories relate in some form or another to Purcell’s trumpet music. Bawdy humour (lots of it!) and more serious tones alternate and link the regal stories of Queen Mary and her hydrocephalus nephew William with the fate of commoners such as John Shaw. He is one of the historical characters, and was the first one to play the instrument that back then was traditionally associated with military procedures in a more melodious and aesthetically pleasing way.

In the play, he is part of a company of players working for theatre owner Rich (Jason Baughan), who simply cuts his actor’s wages in half. Protests, hurt vanities and love triangles come to full bloom, and we find that performers in the 1690 had to struggle with the same hurdles back then as they do now. There are some other surprisingly modern motives touched upon throughout the production. Sam Cox’ entertainingly foul-mouthed waterman Taylor is a loving dig at the stereotypes of London cabbies but his story too, and like most of the others, it is subtly turned on its head.

So perfectly balanced is the play that its structure reflects on the unique sound of the natural trumpet and the change the perception of the instrument went through with the help of Purcell’s writing.

Jessie Buckley is a true revelation in her scenes as Arabella Hunt, the soprano singing at the Royal Court for Queen Mary (Charlotte Mills). Among men known only as cold and frigid, we learn about her past tragic marriage to another woman. As we follow her she finds fulfilment not in love, but in the quiet solace of music. Sarah Sweeney is Buckley’s counter part in this and after Don Juan at the Finborugh she continues to be an exciting presence in some of the more interesting and relevant productions in the past year.

Purcell is referred to, but only ever appears on stage through his music. With the help of this etherial presence, playwright Samuel Adamson has created a piece that is at once light and funny and at other times stark and touching. His writing style is inspired by the Purcellian semi-opera, but is dramatically unequally richer.

In essence, Gabriel is an inventive twist on the usually ghastly jukebox musical approach but here, with characters you actually care about. Together with The English Concert orchestra, Alison Balsom and music director Bill Barclay provide the captivating soundtrack for this rather unique piece. One can only hope that the Globe will keep up such courageous programming.