Tag Archives: Alejandro Bonatto

THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS and THE HUMAN VOICE

★★★★

Charing Cross Theatre

THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS AND THE HUMAN VOICE

Charing Cross Theatre

★★★★

“an elegant and remarkably economical production that makes the two works feel like parts of the same tragic story”

Two very different operas become a compelling portrait of one woman in this elegant double bill. Kurt Weill and Bertolt Brecht’s The Seven Deadly Sins follows Anna as she travels through the cities of America, earning enough money for her parents back home. In Francis Poulenc and Jean Cocteau’s The Human Voice, a woman faces the end of a love affair during a single, devastating telephone conversation. In director Alejandro Bonatto’s production, the woman at the centre of The Human Voice becomes another chapter in Anna’s story, with both roles performed by soprano Katherine McIndoe.

The decision to stage The Seven Deadly Sins without its ballet element, particularly the second Anna, inevitably reduces the sense of duality at the heart of the original conception. At the same time, it places greater emphasis on the sung narrative, with the compacted musical sequences driving the action forward. The result is less about two versions of Anna in dialogue with one another and more about following a single woman’s journey.

Continuing with the scaled-down production, Anna has only her mother, baritone Phil Wilcox, and father, tenor Harry Grigg, with the pair also taking on the roles of her lovers. Both bring a strong sense of theatricality, with Wilcox’s deliberately camp, drag-housewife quality as Anna’s mother particularly adding to the humour, while Grigg brings an equally assured presence as her father. Their performances bring out both the comedy and darker undercurrents of Anna’s journey.

The connection with The Human Voice is an imaginative one. Cocteau’s central character is simply ‘Elle’, allowing the production to make its own connection between the two women. The handwritten cards naming each sin continue into the second opera, where ‘Love’ becomes an additional ‘sin’. This was not part of the original conception of The Human Voice, but here it provides a neat dramatic link. Having sacrificed so much of herself in pursuit of money and survival, Anna has eventually staked everything that remains on one relationship. When that collapses, there is nowhere else for her to turn.

McIndoe faces an extraordinary vocal and dramatic challenge across both works. Weill demands incredible diction and enunciation, with the words cutting through the music and carrying the sharpness of the text, while Poulenc allows for a much more lyrical vocal line. The contrast moves effectively from the theatrical energy and humour of the first opera to the increasing intimacy of the second. The moment when McIndoe comes to sit on the edge of the stage is particularly effective, stripping away some of the theatricality and allowing Anna’s vulnerability to come fully to the fore. Her performance brings out the wit, humour and sensuality of the first opera, as well as the growing desperation and heartbreak of the second.

The production design is economical but expressive. Grey drapes surround the stage, with shadow work involving Anna’s parents behind the leather settee where she often performs, suggesting their ever-present influence and the world she has left behind. Two black grand pianos face each other across the rear of the stage, with percussion hidden between them until the curtain is removed later in the first opera. Anna’s sweet dress when she leaves Louisiana gives way to a silky two-piece shortie pyjama set and black negligee gown, with her jewellery charting the material rewards of her new life. For The Human Voice, the mirror, percussion and one piano disappear and the telephone emerges from beneath the sofa. The physical world has contracted, just as Anna’s life has, while the older Anna’s cream silk pyjamas create a visual link between the two works.

The musicians handle the contrasting scores with equal assurance. Adrian Salinero and Elspeth Wilkes share the piano parts in The Seven Deadly Sins, with Kepa Malgorzata providing percussion, while Wilkes takes the piano for The Human Voice, with Salinero joining for one movement on flute. Weill’s sharp-edged theatricality and rhythmic energy give way to Poulenc’s more fluid and lyrical score, reflecting the very different moods of the two operas.

Ultimately, this is more than a pairing of two very different operas. By presenting The Human Voice as another chapter in Anna’s story, Bonatto creates a portrait of a woman who spends the first part sacrificing herself in pursuit of money and survival, only to find herself with nothing left when the relationship she has staked everything on comes to an end. It is an elegant and remarkably economical production that makes the two works feel like parts of the same tragic story.



THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS AND THE HUMAN VOICE

Charing Cross Theatre

Reviewed on 12th September 2026

by Ellen Cheshire

Photography by Adam King


 

 

 

 

THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS

THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS

THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS

Rebecca

Rebecca

★★★★

Charing Cross Theatre

REBECCA at Charing Cross Theatre

★★★★

Rebecca

“its sights are undoubtedly set on a bigger space”

“Rebecca” the musical has taken quite a while to come to our shores. Based on Daphne du Maurier’s Gothic novel of the same name, it was written by Michael Kunze (book and lyrics) and Sylvester Levay (music). When it opened more than a decade and a half ago in Vienna it played to sold out houses for over three years before crossing the oceans to Japan and back again to Finland, Hungary, Sweden, Germany, Switzerland, Serbia, Romania, Czechia and Russia. In the meantime, The English audience’s appetite was whetted by Emma Rice’s chillingly magical touring production which, in true Kneehigh fashion, was part musical, part fairy-tale, part horror fantasy.

High expectations lie in wait at the gates of Manderley for the musical, translated by Kunze and Christopher Hampton. Alejandro Bonatto’s production is quite fearless in the face of anticipation, so much so that the ambition and vision of the piece feels initially at odds with the choice of venue. With an eighteen-piece orchestra, twenty-two songs and an all singing all dancing ensemble, its sights are undoubtedly set on a bigger space. But for now, it has settled in for the autumn and it feels like this very English tale has come home.

Staying faithful to the novel it centres around “I” – the first-person narrator, known only as the second Mrs. de Winter. Having met the wealthy widower Maxim de Winter in Monte Carlo she all too rapidly becomes his wife and moves to his grand estate in Cornwall. Washed up in a ghost story without the ghosts, the new bride grapples with the oppressive presence of de Winter’s first wife – Rebecca – who died in mysterious circumstances the year before. Exacerbated by Mrs Danvers – the cold, overbearing housekeeper – she grows increasingly obsessed with the beautiful first wife. The suspense builds, secrets are revealed, and intrigues unravelled.

“The melodies are quite beautiful when needed; and stirring whenever required”

Like the novel, the musical opens with “I” famously saying (though in this case singing – and paraphrasing presumably for scanning purposes) ‘last night I dreamt of Manderley’. We immediately get a taste of the sumptuous score, and the quality of the singing voices on display. The atmosphere is created, but then somewhat dismantled as events and the central romance progress at breakneck speed. Songs come and go, often ending too soon. Crescendos and climaxes bounce off the walls leaving little space for true characterisation. While Richard Carson’s Maxim de Winter is quite rooted in his awkward and arrogant secrecy, Lauren Jones’ “I” has the more pronounced arc; even though we have to wait until after interval to witness Jones’ transformation from timid outsider to gutsy go-getter who can rightfully grab what is hers. When she looks like stealing the show, it is snatched away by Kara Lane as Mrs Danvers, with a soul of steel and voice of velvet. The duo makes compelling watching, particularly during act two’s opening number ‘Rebecca’. The gauntlet is thrown, and the stage is set. The second half of the show is indeed several notches up from the first act, and the mists of darkness and deviousness break away from the artificiality of dry ice, to form something more tangible and emotive.

The bleak Cornish setting is evoked through David Seldes’ lighting and Matt Powell’s projections, with the old school theatricality of Nicky Shaw’s sets, deftly manoeuvred and transformed by the ensemble cast. An ensemble that is equally as important as the leading players, and given several rousing numbers that set the scene and drive the plot. It is more melodrama than psychological insight, but then again – is that a bad thing? We’re not looking for Daphne du Maurier’s literary subtleties. We want the essence, which is what is achieved. The melodies are quite beautiful when needed; and stirring whenever required. Sometimes, however, it is superfluous to requirements, and therefore stretches the show beyond its natural length. A show that, in turn, is pushing at the walls of the space. The true vision is confined for now, but it is still quite thrilling. The heart may be relatively unmoved, but the senses are indeed stirred.

 


REBECCA at Charing Cross Theatre

Reviewed on 18th September 2023

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Mark Senior

 


 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

 

George Takei’s Allegiance | ★★★★ | January 2023
From Here To Eternity | ★★★★ | November 2022
The Milk Train Doesn’t Stop Here Anymore | ★★★ | October 2022
Ride | ★★★★★ | August 2022
Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike | ★★★ | November 2021
Pippin | ★★★★ | July 2021

Rebecca

Rebecca

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