Carmen - ENO at the Coliseum

I saw Bizet's Carmen a couple of weekends ago, in a production by the ENO at the London Coliseum. I have had mixed feelings about the previous operas I have seen - I like the music, but find it much harder to suspend my disbelief and get immersed in the show than I do with straight theatre.

I enjoyed Carmen - maybe because so much of the music is familiar, but it has to be admitted that having it sung in English, and therefore wholly understandable, does rather expose the er.. somewhat thin plot.

The story, as far as I could make out, is along these lines:

• Soldiers are doing soldiery things like parading around on guard duty and ogling passing women. A good, well-brought up young woman comes looking for a soldier, José, she brings a letter from his mother and there is some very loud musical flirting based on her bringing kisses from his mother..

• She leaves, and a lot of girls from the cigarette factory come out to take a break and flirt with the soldiers, with Carmen singing about how she doesn't love anyone who might love her, and giving  José a flower., before going back to work.

• A fight breaks out in the factory and  Carmen is accused of knifing another woman - at which point we learn that the army apparently doubles at being the police force, and  that they are not believers in any kind of investigative process. For no obvious reason, rather than taking Carmen immediately to prison, she is instead to be tied up, first.

• This provides the opportunity for Carmen to manage the fastest seduction in history, plotting (very musically and at the top of her voice) with José, to suggest that he should allow her to escape. José, being clearly very susceptible (and presumably sex-starved) instantly succumbs, and agrees to let her escape by ... er.. giving him a shove and running away.

• Carmen  duly runs away (there appears to be a rule that if she makes it off stage, she's free and no-one is allowed to chase her any further), and José is arrested and sent to prison for 3 months for letting her get away (his superior officer having found him out, possibly through having overheard Carmen laying out her plan in detail, and possibly due to the inherent improbability of a young cigarette girl managing to break out of her bonds and escape from a heavily armed soldier.

• We are now half way through.At the start of the second half, Carmen, along with some other gypsy women, is dancing in a nightclub. The patrons mostly seem to be soldiers, including the on who ordered her arrest, (who appears not to recognise his fugitive, possibly because she is wearing a different frock). In this production, the nightclub is a car, instead. Much flirty dancing ensues.

• A passing toreador, Escamillo, arrives at the club, mostly as an excuse for the splendid Toreador song, which doesn't really need any excuse! 

• José gets out of prison and shows up at the cafe / nightclub / car where Carmen makes him very welcome. However,  all is not good - the bugles ring out from the barracks, and Jose must return to do his duty. But, sings Carmen, she loves him and wants him and he should stay..  

• Despite the fact that the last time he listed to Carmen's plans, he wound up with 3 months in prison,José allows his libido to overcome his judgment once again,and decides to stay with Carmen rather than returning to barracks. For no very obvious reason, Carmen's gypsy friends also kidnap José's boss.

• Time passes. There  is some singing. We learn that Carmen and the gypsys are involved in smuggling. There is some singing about how they are excellent smugglers, how women are useful to distract the guards and how smuggling is very dangerous. It does not appear to occur to anyone that a loud choral exposition about their smuggling plans might be a bad idea. 

• While waiting for their smuggling plans to mature, Jose's original girlfriend (remember her? With the letter, from the first act?) turns up looking for   José. He is unimpressed by her skill and determination in tracking him down and her committment to getting his other's letter to him, despite his being somewhat unsatisfactory track record as a boyfriend so far. Carmen and her friends so a spot of tarot and find that Carmen is doomed! The is Death in cards, no matter how often you deal them.

• Escamillo, the toreador, also shows up.  He has the hots for Carmen, but being a sophisticated metrosexual type of chap is unfazed by the fact that she has a lover, points out that she also has a low boredom threashold and will be over him in a few months.  José is less relaxed about things, and starts a fight with Escamillo. He fails to kill him, and Escamillo leaves, inviting everyone to his next bull fight.Because just because someone just tried to stab you death is apparently no reason not to put them on the guest list.

• We then go to the bull fight. There is much rousing singing about how brave and daring he bullfighters are, how great everyone looks, and how amazingly awesome Escamillo is. Carmen has got a bit bored of José by this point and enters on Escamillo's arm, enjoying the limelight. Jose shows up, and they have a fight, which mostly consists of José making it clear that he loves Carmen and no-one but him can have her, and Carmen telling him she isn't interested. And then he kills her.Which rather dampens the mood.

Despite the downbeat ending, it was entertaining, and I enjoyed it more than the other operas I've seen - I am glad I went. Although I am still not convinced that setting it in the 70s really worked. 

Orpheus in the Underworld

I am not a big opera fan, generally, but decided to give 'Orpheus in the Underworld' a go - partly as it is directed by Emma Rice, whose work in the theatre I have enjoyed, party because it was described as being both light and satirical, plus it is of course the source of the CanCan music, so got to be worth a try!

And it was ...interesting, but a bit patchy, I thought . It started with the death of a baby, triggering Orpheus and Eurydice's separation, which did start things off on a rather depressing note, and it took a while for the lighter side of the opera to kick in.

But it  was  entertaining once it did - the chorus, wearing tutus made of balloons, and dancing with a greater or lesser degree of enthusiasm, were a particular high point!

And Willard White, as a world-weary, lecherous Jupiter, was  wonderful to hear. 


Mary Bevan was a strong, angry Eurydice, full of rage in the 'Can Can' song.

Curtain Call (Photos explicitly encouraged by the theatre)

Coraline, The Opera

As you will have seen from last week's post, I was deeply disappointed on Easter weekend when a combination of my illness, and GWR's idiosyncratic approach to providing a train service meant that I couldn't use the ticket I booked (last October) to see the Coraline Opera. At the time, I thought this meant I was going to miss it altogether, as it was only on for 9 performances and was completely sold out.

However, when I called to return my ticket, the nice chap at the Royal Opera House was able to find a returned ticket for me for the matinee this Saturday, so I got to go after all.

I don't know a lot about opera - as regular readers will know, I'm generally more about 'straight' theatre, but I am also very fond of 'Coraline', and curious about how it would translate onto stage and music.

Curtain, pre-performance

When I took my seat, I saw that the curtain not only had Coraline's name across it, but was also showing a projected image of the auditorium and the audience, acting as a huge mirror, but one too dark to be able to tell whether it was a true reflection, or whether what we saw might be, in fact, the Other audience, button eyes an all!

The opera has a small cast  of just 6, and the story is also pared down - the cat is gone, and Miss Spink and Miss Forcible's scotty dogs, and Coraline's battle with the beldame simplified, but the bare bones are still there.

Production photo:
Alexander Robin Baker as the Other Father, Kitty Whately as the Other Mother

At the performance I saw, Coraline was sung by Robyn Allegra Parton (the role was shared with Mary Bevan),who did an excellent job as a the brave (but also often sulky and occasionally stroppy) eleven year old, with Kitty Whately and Alexander Robin Baker were both excellent as her parents (and as her Other parents). I particularly enjoyed the poignancy of the Other Father's end, after he tried to help Coraline to escape.

At the interval, the curtain came down again, but this time, we, like Coraline herself, were on the wrong side, and the image was reversed...

Curtain, half time. We are the Other audience, now

This, and the original curtain, were indicative of the design of the show,which plays heavily on mirrors and reflections - the Other version of Coraline's house is the mirror image of the original, for instance, and the homes of Mr Bobo and of Miss Forcible and Miss Sink come from the opposite sides of the stage, dependent on whether we are in our word, or that of the Other Mother.

I personally felt that the Other Mother's world wasn't as creepy and terrifying as it could have been, but it seemed to do the job for the target audience; at the point where the there Mother produces her buttons and needle and thread, there were audible gasps, and more than one squeak of fear, and I heard a little voice from behind me saying (and sounding pretty scared) "Don't be scared Daddy. It's not really real" ........ "is it?" .  (It sounded as thought Daddy was able to reassure her that he wasn't too scared, and that she need not be, either, and she seemed to enjoy the rest of the performance)

Over all, I enjoyed it, and I'm very glad I got to see it. I thought it kept the underlying 'flavour' of the original book, although the it took a while to get going in the first act, with rather more exposition that was strictly necessary. But  I have to admit that I am still not big on opera - I suspect that I would have enjoyed it more had it been a straight play. However, I can see that it could spark n interest in opera for children, and even for a non-opera fan it was well worth seeing. There were no surtitles, abut that wasn't an issue, the singers were all admirably clear (much more so than in the last opera I saw!

The run at the Barbican has finished now, but I believe that there are plans in the pipeline for translated productions to be performed in Germany, France and Sweden, and I would imagine that it may well be revisited - it sold out completely, and from what I could see, was very warmly received by those of all ages who saw it. 

Aida at the ENO

I am, as regular readers will have noticed, a fan of the theatre, but opera is something I have very little experience of. However, my friend Lyle and I decided we would give it a try, and booked to see the ENO's production of Aida. 

For those who, like me, are unfamiliar with the plot of Aida, it goes something like this:

An Ethiopian princess (Aida)  is a slave of the Pharaoh, in Egypt. The Egyptians don't know she is a princess. She loves, and is loved by, an Egyptian General (Ramades) loves her, but cannot admit this (presumably because she is a slave who doesn't belong to him). She loves him, too.

The Pharaoh's daughter, (Amneris) is also in love with Ramades.

Aida's father, (Amonasro) leads an invasion of Egypt, and as luck and Senor Verdi would have it, Ramades is chosen to lead the Egyptian armies against the invader, leaving Aida with a rather uncomfortable conflict of interest.

While Ramades is away fighting the Ethiopian Army, Amneris, who seems to be of a jealous turn of mind, decides to try to find out whether Aida is in love with Ramades, so tells her that he has been defeated, and is dead. Aida betrays herself, grieving for him, Amneris admits she lied reducing Aida's problems from 'my lover is dead' to 'my father and countrymen have been defeated in battle, and the most powerful woman in the country, who literally owns me, is pissed at me'.

Ramades returns in triumph (you can tell, because there is a Triumphal March, complete with trumpets and *that* tune that even non-opera fans can recognise) bringing with him a number of Ethiopian prisoners, including Aida's father, King Amonasro (who pretends to be an ordinary general).  The Pharaoh and High Priest plan to execute them all, because what's the point in crushing your enemies and parading them in chains through the city if you don't get to execute them afterwards?

Production photo from the ENO website

The Pharaoh is pleased with Radames, and (perhaps a little rashly) offers him anything he wants as a reward, and also announces that he will give Radames his daughter's hand in marriage and that Radames will get to be Pharaoh after he is gone. Radames, who is clearly the kind of sensitive and thoughtful guy who can see that defeating his prospective father in battle and then assisting at his execution might result in some relationship issues, asks that the Ethiopian prisoners be spared, and released. Not being a complete idiot, Pharaoh agrees, but keeps Aida's father as a hostage for their good behaviour, and gets on with planning Amneris' wedding to Radames.

After the interval, we are back with the wedding planning. While Amneris goes off for a night of pre-wedding prayer, Aida meets with her father, who suggests that if she can get Radames to tell her where the Egyptian army is likely to be, he and she can escape, rejoin the Ethiopian army and successfully fight back. (which, tactically speaking, sounds fairly sensible). Aida resists, not wishing to ask her lover to betray his country, but is persuaded when her father threatens to disown her.

Aida and Radames then have a duet in which she tries to persuade him to come away with her, singing eloquently of the beauties of her country (she doesn't mention anything about the potential social awkwardness of moving to a country after decimating their army, but perhaps she overlooked that), while he sings about his concerns about whether leaving would leave him dishonoured, and how much he loves Aida, but is silent about whether he is planning to jilt Amneris and marry Aida (probably not a career-enhancing move) or to marry Amneris and have an affair with Aida (probably not a relationship enhancing plan...)

Aida convinces him to come with her, so he discloses to her and her father where the Egyptian Army is due to be, so they can avoid it to reach Ethiopia. At which point, Amonasro reveals his identity and that he plans to use the information Radames has just provided to ambush the Egyptian army. I can' help but feel that this may be why Amonasro and his army were defeated in the first place. It doesn't seem to me that, from a tactical perspective, telling the enemy general your plan (even if he does want to marry your daughter) is a very good idea. Although perhaps the dramatic force of the opera would be reduced f anyone were to act sensibly! 

Things go rapidly downhill for our protagonists. Radames is overcome with remorse and with being arrested and thrown into gaol. He is then swiftly tried by the high priest and all the lesser priest, and is tunefully condemned to death. By being entombed alive. 

Radames decides (arguably a little belatedly) to be Very Noble and refuses to explain himself, or to let Amneris intervene on his behalf, and as such is duly buried alive (in a large and well-lit tomb). As he muses on fate, Aida shows up,having hidden herself in the tomb to be buried alive with him, rather than (say) escaping with her father.  It's all very sad.

And in hindsight, bearing in mind that Amonasro invaded Egypt specifically to rescue his daughter, suggests that his entire war was a colossal waste of time and energy.

I did enjoy it,especially the  big choruses, I have to say. I'm a fan of big choruses! But I suspect that I shall continue to spend more time in theares than opera houses in the future!