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Review originally published on ENO's website as part of their Response programme. Access the original review here: https://www.eno.org/news/eno-response-hms-pinafore-reviews/

Review originally published on ENO's website as part of their Response programme. Access the original review here: https://www.eno.org/news/eno-response-satyagraha-reviews/?gclid=CjwKCAiAnO2MBhApEiwA8q0HYTav4mZAlX4pNvc9IoXiVLEf4V1xPaIhOa6o84khwCW71FK1BBl3yRoC90EQAvD_BwE

Nervous anticipation was felt throughout the Dorfman theatre at the Saturday matinee of Rockets and Blue Lights I attended, as the audience not only readied themselves for a poignant reflection of black history in Britain, but for one of their first in person theatre productions since the start of the coronavirus pandemic. The original run of Winsome Pinnock’s play at the Manchester Royal Exchange was interrupted due to the pandemic, but the conversations that erupted during the George Floyd protests of summer 2020 has given the piece even more weight to Pinnock’s dramatisation of slavery, racism and black history in the historical imagination. The play is an emotional odyssey of black experience in Britain stretching from the late eighteenth century to the present day that ebbs and flows seamlessly across centuries and stories. It opens on a discussion in the present between actress Lou (Kiza Dean) and teacher Essie (Rochelle Rose) on the JMW Turner painting A Slave Ship. Turner’s painting was based on events onboard the slave ship Zong, where crew members murdered over 130 African slaves in order to ration fresh water. From here, the play splits itself across multiple storylines, traversing Turner’s life (Paul Bradley), young people’s reactions to black history, the story of a family torn in two by slavery, but also the experiences of Lou acting in a present-day biopic of Turner. The stories frequently shared the stage, fliting between past, present, and imagined past, stressing the dichotomy between conventional contemporary interpretation and the pursuit of historical reality. With the film at the story’s centre, Lou’s character become a portal through which the variety and richness of black experience in Britain are brought to life, whilst also discussing the difficulty of black people taking part in a film project in which changes to the script become more reminiscent of films written by white people about black trauma. The ensemble worked well together to bring this piece to life. Unfortunately however, both the actress and the understudy for Jess/Jeanie were unable to make the performance I saw so the Staff Director (Mumba Dodwell) read in, undeniably disrupting the flow of the piece. This was more than made up for with the absorbing moments between individual characters, particularly the moments between husband and wife, Thomas (Karl Collins) and Lucy, and between Lou and her Grandfather (Everal A Walsh). The inherent value of this piece lies in its questioning of the white gaze, and how this has persisted through time as one of the only ways Britons experience black history. Both Turner and Roy, the actor who plays Turner in the film, disrupt the narrative truth to place themselves at the account’s centre, making their guilt and their interpretation the perceived ‘truth’. The white man evades culpability and repercussions, and all that remains is his pictorial attempt to absolve himself from this guilt. The ‘torture porn’ Lou refers to when discussing the film of Turner’s life has not only been a common attribute of films about slavery, often reflecting the history of the United States, but it is also the primary way Britons experience black history. Pinnock’s play is an attempt to remedy this, with unique narratives that intertwine and link to the many stories and histories of black Britons. The performance was immersed with striking visual symbolism, with a stunning set design by Laura Hopkins and powerful lighting design by Jessica Hung Han Yun. As the white deck of the set slowly filled with water, the end of the performance came to an emotional crescendo bathed in orange light, a tribute to black lives lost in Britain, and a plea for change. No review of this show would be complete without mentioning the composer Femi Temowo, whose sea shanties brought the cast together as they traversed years and narratives. At times the play-text felt more interesting than the production, but nonetheless this was a great ensemble piece that is undoubtedly worth seeing. At a time when the government and media minister John Wittingdale is stressing the UK’s public broadcasters to make ‘British’ television, one has to look no further than Pinnock’s play to appreciate the work needed to amend the gaps in stories and representations of Britain’s past. Performance Date: 4th September Matinée Image Rights: By After J. M. W. Turner - https://wellcomeimages.org/indexplus/obf_images/38/48/9e35693f0e1b2a9ad034d8d76ec5.jpgGallery: https://wellcomeimages.org/indexplus/image/V0041160.htmlWellcome Collection gallery (2018-04-02): https://wellcomecollection.org/works/wnpc6any CC-BY-4.0, CC BY 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=36643410

‘A Taste of Honey’ was written by Shelagh Delaney in 1958 and was staged by Joan Littlewood’s Theatre Workshop in the same year; it was simultaneously a box office hit and a source of heavy criticism. The main departure of Delaney’s play from the fictional canon was not the representation of a working-class domestic setting on stage (this had been done previously by the likes of Osborne and Wesker) but the focus on working class women and their relationships in harsh conditions. The plot centres around two main characters Jo and Helen, and it is about their relationship developing and changing once it becomes clear that Jo is pregnant. Both characters are deeply inconsistent and reject traditional forms of femininity. Helen is presented as the anti-thesis of what was considered to be the ‘perfect mother’ in the 1950s. She is inconsistent, unaffectionate and thrill-seeking, which was the exact opposite of the culturally constructed contemporary stereotypes of motherhood that were predominantly hearth-loving, conciliatory and constant. Likewise Jo rejects motherhood vehemently, exclaiming that breast feeding is cannibalistic and like ‘being eaten alive’. Delaney wrote ‘A Taste of Honey’ because she thought that certain aspects of society were not being presented on stage, in particular, relationships between women, written and produced by women. Delaney did not shy away from presenting the harsh reality of the strain on mother and daughter relationships. The dependence Helen and Jo have on men for their own happiness and livelihood, for their ‘tastes of honey’ is very different to the relationship male characters in the play have with it, and is the main source of anger throughout the production. They want to be independent but cannot, so even if they hate each-other, they have to rely on what has been given to them, their relationship with one-another. Jo and Helen’s characters are reacting against these ideas, and reacting loudly, evidenced by the often-violent language and bitter retorts between them. This was so against some critic’s ideas of working-class culture, and probably specifically working-class women, that it prompted the cultural commentator Richard Hoggart to say that Delaney’s characters were ‘not typical’ of the working-classes. Though views like Hoggart’s were beginning to be challenged both on the stage and politically, they were undeniably similar to the vast majority of those who undermined working-class experience by sweeping female voices under the council estate rug. There is a sense of anger and frustration in ‘A Taste of Honey’ that highlights the very real plight of working-class women during this period. Jo and Helen’s frustration at ‘their lot’ and their bitter but unbreakable reliance on each other is almost a precursor to the fraught mother and daughter relationships discussed by women in autobiographies about the 1950s. This is particularly evident in Margaret Forster’s and Carolyn Steedman’s memoirs of the period, as mothers were encouraged to stay at home with the children and find their joy and passions only in the domestic sphere, rather than pursuing their own interests and enjoyment. ‘A Taste of Honey’, though a work of fiction, accurately depicts some of the circumstances women found themselves in in the 1950s, but it should be understood alongside it’s criticism, as many were also outraged by its themes and depictions. ‘A Taste of Honey’s’ strengths lie in Delaney’s ability to weave details of the reality of women’s lives in the 1950s into the text. Delaney makes it clear throughout the play that ‘outsiders’ who did not fit into the ideals of the breadwinner, nuclear family society, were left behind, particularly from the welfare state. This is explored well in Pat Thane and Tanya Evans’s book Sinners, Scroungers, Saints, about unmarried mothers in twentieth century England, and how the National Council was still needed in order to care for the unmarried mothers that were not benefitting from the welfare state. Many unmarried mothers were in a better state than they had been before the war, however Labour refused to implement the recommendations of the Beveridge report to provide more for specifically unmarried mothers. Equally, many women in these examples were rejected by their families for having a baby out of wedlock, but whilst Helen contemplates leaving at the end of the play, when she finds out the baby might be black, she decides not to, reflecting the idea that after Peter, Jo is all she has. An understanding of the anger of both characters is heightened by the knowledge of the welfare state and the alienation of those in unorthodox family situations from the rest of society. The welfare state was built around certain societal expectations about the male breadwinner, and the dutiful housewife. ‘A Taste of Honey’ was a rejection of these expectations, and the lives women had to lead on the outskirts of society because of them. Consulted Works: Bunkle, P., 'The 1944 Education Act and Second Wave Feminism', Women’s History Review, vol. 25/no. 5, (2016), pp. 791-811 Delaney, S., A Taste of Honey, (1959) Evans, T. and Thane, P., Sinners? Scroungers? Saints? Unmarried Motherhood in Twentieth-Century England, (Oxford, Oxford University Press, 2012) Forster, M., Hidden Lives: A Family Memoir, (London, Penguin, 1996) Pedersen S., ‘Ruin it your Own Way’, The London Review of Books, (2020) Todd S., Tastes of Honey: The Making of Shelagh Delaney and a Cultural Revolution. London, 2019. Steedman, C., 'Landscape for a Good Woman' (London, Virago, 1986) Wilson, D., 'A New Look at the Affluent Worker: The Good Working Mother in Post-War Britain', Twentieth Century British History, vol. 17/no. 2, (2006), pp. 206-229

Review originally published on ENO's website as part of their Response programme. Access the original review here: https://www.eno.org/news/eno-response-the-marriage-of-figaro-reviews/

Review originally published on ENO's website as part of their Response programme. Access the original review here: https://www.eno.org/news/eno-response-luisa-miller-reviews-part-ii/

Review originally published on ENO's website as part of their Response programme. Access the original review here: https://www.eno.org/news/eno-response-carmen-reviews/?gclid=CjwKCAjwhOyJBhA4EiwAEcJdcasumFmVCfIqh57yhYrnK9uBuqIyle_eYfWNlDg8YLAv9rrSGU2lBxoC3aEQAvD_BwE

Cheeky and jovial, director Jonathan Miller’s The Mikado brings a nostalgic and light-hearted air to the London Coliseum. However, The Mikado feels somewhat out of place in contrast to the introspective works that have dominated the rest of the season. Although it is satire, perhaps it could learn a thing or two from Emma Rice’s feminist take on Orpheus in the Underworld. Despite being younger than the Offenbach operatta, The Mikado at times feels old fashioned, but the piece is chock full of laughs, melodrama and exceptional music. With outstanding performances from an evidently tightly rehearsed cast, this production has made the best use of the presence and power of the chorus this season. Richard Stuart’s utterly fabulous depiction of Ko-Ko is the stunning centre-piece of this production, and it is worth seeing just for his absurdly extravagant portrayal. Set against the backdrop of a 1930s hotel in Miller’s production, the Mikado was originally a satirical take on British politics but, in order to circumvent the laws on free speech, Gilbert and Sullivan set it in Japan. The opera is set in the fictional town of Titipu, where Ko-Ko has been promoted to the position of Lord High Executioner, and intends to marry Yum-yum (Soraya Mafi), who does not reciprocate his affection. Nanki-Poo (Elgan Llye Thomas) arrives and declares his love for Yum-Yum, much to the annoyance of Ko-Ko. The Mikado, commandingly depicted by the bass, John Tomlinson, has ordered an execution, and Ko-Ko has to find someone before it is his own head on the line. Despite the quite frankly offensive names, the opera is a genuinely funny and enjoyable satire, taking on the corrupt judicial establishments of late Victorian Britain. This production takes aim at the corrupt dealings of current public figures, and relates them to the ridiculous depictions of the establishment figures in the piece, Pooh-Bah (Andrew Shore), Ko-Ko and the Mikado himself. In Richard Stuart’s incredible characterisation, Ko-Ko was both blithely charming and intently self-serving. His ‘little-list’ song, is rewritten for each performance and satirises current affairs. Indiscriminately taking aim at all parts of society, in this performance, his criticism ranged from disruptions caused by Extinction Rebellion, to Trump’s despotism, from PC culture to the incompetence of the Duke of York. Although this makes the show relevant, and pleasing satire, it is clear there is no explicit political message. There was no correction of the stereotypes, and at times they felt woefully out of date, particularly with the shrill and occasionally underdeveloped female characters. This is however, a revival production, and it has been thirty-five years since the show’s premiere. Although very enjoyable in a light-hearted way, it cannot bear the deep analysis that has been applied to the other shows in this season at ENO. The stage design was a particularly impressive aspect of the performance. Designed by the late Stefanos Lazaridis, the kitsch cream walls and ornaments provided enough backdrop to create atmosphere without the stage feeling overcrowded. The back of the stage slanted quite drastically, meaning interactions with the back of the stage were hilarious in their own right. The position of the set meant the back half of the stage was cut off, meaning ensemble pieces felt fuller and livelier, and solo performances felt more intimate. In all the set was a complete triumph, and in tandem with the costumes, designed by Sue Blane, which created the nostalgic atmosphere that was essential to the success of the piece. No discussion of this piece would be complete without acknowledging the tremendous work of the orchestra, the ensemble and the conductor, Chris Hopkins. In order to pull off a piece of this magnitude and acclaim there has to be significant cast cohesion, not only with the main performers, but also with the ensemble. It was good to have the fullest stage so far this season, allowing there to be more cohesion between the dancers and the singers. Fabulous ensemble spectacles have been somewhat lacking from ENOs most recent performances, but the Mikado brings them back in full force, with a high kicking chorus. What was clear about the performance of the Mikado was that the cast were having almost as much fun as the audience. Although a bit out date, the piece is scrumptiously enjoyable, everything one could hope from a contemporary take on a Gilbert and Sullivan opera. It is a wonderful homage to the late Jonathan Miller, and love for the piece and its director shone through all of the performances.

The stylish romanticism of Jean Cocteau’s cinema is spectacularly reflected in Netia Jones’s stunning new adaptation of Orphée, Philip Glass’ hauntingly beautiful opera. Orphée explores the relationship between the real and imagined, of love and loss, the unknowing, and perhaps most importantly, the pain that can be wrought by self-indulgence. The performance was an effective combination of film and theatre, brought to life by the impressive silhouette figures that evoked the original monochrome footage. Although perhaps over-busy at times, the staging and overall feeling of the piece was especially effective, transporting the audience into a mind-bending world of reflections leading to other realities. Unlike Glass’s other operas where there is a powerful force and weight to his music, in Orphée, there is a wonderful delicacy that supports the romantic elements of production and highlights the pain behind Cocteau’s work. The performances in this production were extraordinary, undoubtedly the best of ENO’s current season of four Orpheus myths. The sheer brilliance of Jennifer France’s performance as the seductive and enigmatic Princess is enough to mesmerise anyone. The opera focuses on the spiralling poet Orphée (Nicholas Lester), whose obsession with his own popularity and pursuit of excitement leads him to obsess over his rival’s patron, the Princess. The rival, Cégeste (Anthony Gregory), starts a brawl and is subsequently killed, the Princess and her Chauffer, Heurtebise (Nicky Spence) intervene and make a plea for Orphée to help. He is led to the Princess’s home, and tries to follow her through the mirror she carries Cégeste through, but is unable to do so. From then on Orphée is obsessed with pursuing the Princess, and with investigating the other world, much to the distress of his wife Eurydice (Sarah Tynan). Orphée becomes estranged from his wife, who then dies; only then does he try and save her soul by travelling through his own reflection, to the world of the dead. After a series of trying ordeals, and a confession of love from the Princess for Orphée, she ensures that he will remember none of the events that have come to pass. Orphée and Eurydice wake up, as if from a dream and are once again in love, unaware of trials their relationship faced; it is a tale that emphasises that there is bliss to be found in ignorance. The performances from the four main opera singers in this piece have been the most successful and convincing so far this season at ENO. Nicholas Lester’s depiction of Orphée reeks of pure narcissism, refusing to acknowledge the feelings of his wife, he displays all the dubious charisma one would expect from a self-absorbed artist. It is a brilliant contrast to Nicky Spence’s Heurtebise, whose charming selflessness emanates from his depiction, his growing love and affection towards Eurydice is tender and heart-warming. Despite having enjoyed Sarah Tynan’s performance in Gluck’s Orpheus and Eurydice, the purity she brought to the character of Eurydice in Orphée made this performance even more touching. Jennifer France’s earthshattering performance as the Princess was spectacular, her voice being commanding and visceral whilst also being utterly effortless. The few minutes alone between her and Orphée, and later her resolve to restore him to his former life, were heart-breaking, and were the highlights of this production. The intention of the set designer Lizzie Clachan, was evidently to reflect a cinematic style by using screens and projections, as well as a mainly monochrome objects, in this way the audience was transported into Cocteau’s world of mirrors and mystery. Although the staging felt far too busy at times, especially in the first act, the overall feel of Cocteau’s work shone through, and this was a fine homage. The projections, designed by the director, Netia Jones, experimented with excerpts from the film itself that really heightened the drama. The projections and the lighting (designed by Lucy Carter) seamlessly interacted, making the entire auditorium feel like a nightmarish dreamland. One of the aspects of the performance that was less successful, were the costumes which were designed by the director. Although very reminiscent of Jean Cocteau’s film, I felt there was little else they added to the performance. Glass’s opera is an inherently romantic and thought-provoking piece. His score complements the minimalistic nature of Cocteau’s film, the repetitive layers in the music aligning with the multiple layers of Cocteau’s creative process. As Netia Jones has mentioned, Orphée is ‘an opera of a film of a play of a poem of an opera, in which everything reflects on something else’. Philip Glass’s Orphée is a wonderful opera, and this performance pays homage to all the aspects of its creativity. Captivating and thoughtful, Orphée is a fitting end to the Orpheus series at ENO.

Review originally published on ENO's website as part of their Response programme. Access the original review here: https://www.eno.org/news/eno-response-the-mask-of-orpheus-reviews-part-ii/