“the characters are pretty grotesque, but the cast still manage to earn our sympathy to a degree“
Mark-Anthony Turnage’s first opera, “Greek”, first performed in 1988, established his reputation as a unique composer, blending jazz and classical styles of music, shifting between modernism and tradition. Like Steven Berkoff, who wrote the libretto and on whose play of the same title this is based, he deliberately eschews mainstream aspirations. Consequently, this is not going to be to everyone’s taste, but the combination yields an intensely thrilling experience in this new production as part of the Grimeborn Opera Festival at the Arcola Theatre.
It is an incisive retelling of the Oedipus myth, relocating Sophocle’s play to North London in a Thatcherite Britain. Oedipus is now an angry young man, Eddy, who breaks away from his pernicious yet affectionate parents. He doesn’t know he’s adopted. We do. As we also know that the greasy-spoon café owner he kills in a brawl is his biological father. It is quite hard to swallow, especially the speed with which he shacks up with the dead man’s wife, aka his mother, as her husband is still lying bleeding on the ground.
The eighteen-piece orchestra pounds through the austere and often atonal score complementing the four singers’ performance which shares the same mix of lyricism and brutality. Sung in a cockney twang the narrative is clear, despite combining street talk with classical diction, and director Jonathan Moore’s uncomplicated staging amplifies the effect. Edmund Danon packs his rags-to-riches rise with coarse humour as he encounters love, wealth and finally his true identity. Eddy’s keening cry on discovering that his wife is his mother is chilling, if short lived. Tragedy is averted, in true Berkoff style: “Bollocks to all that” Eddy pronounces with rebellious bravado.
Richard Morrison, as the racist, working-class Dad manages to gain sympathy by being as much a victim as a symptom of the society he is trapped in: the “plague”, as it is referred to, of poverty blamed on Thatcher austerity. Philippa Boyle, as Mum, also multi-roles, infusing much needed comedy into the social commentary, while Laura Woods as the widow/wife lends her self-serving materialism a tenderness. In short, the characters are pretty grotesque, but the cast still manage to earn our sympathy to a degree.
The performances are consistently and superbly strong, but the overall effect is slightly tainted by Berkoff glaringly using the characters, especially Eddy, to use his own voice to speak against society. But although this occasionally detracts from the emotive performances, this is an enthralling, challenging production. A bit of an onslaught, admittedly, yet powerfully compelling
“Julia Burbach’s production sheds an interesting new light on the narrative, the characters and, in this case, the audience too”
You know you’re not going to expect an easy night of it when the central theme of a show is rape. Benjamin Britten’s chamber opera premiered in 1946 and has sometimes provoked furious protest. So, it is interesting to see how it fares in the wake of the ‘Me Too’ movement. As one of the centrepieces of the ‘Grimeborn’ festival at the Arcola Theatre, Julia Burbach’s production of “The Rape of Lucretia” sheds an interesting new light on the narrative, the characters and, in this case, the audience too.
It is an intense piece, to say the least, but one that is ideal for the intimacy of the staging at the Arcola. The complexities of the structure are more clear-cut when witnessed close up. The male and female chorus hold the narrative together and they very much involve the audience; shaping the emotional response as they uncover the events. It’s almost as if the chorus are discovering it all for the first time themselves.
Natasha Jouhl and Rob Murray, as female and male chorus respectively, explain the situation in Rome. The city has sunk into depravity while fighting off a Greek invasion and Tarquinius (Benjamin Lewis), Collatinus (Andrew Tipple) and Junius (James Corrigan) are drinking together. While out fighting they have been sexually betrayed by their wives, with the exception of Collatinus whose wife, Lucretia (Bethan Langford), has remained faithful. Junius goads Tauquinius into testing Lucretia’s chastity. To cut a fairly short story shorter, Tarquinius rises to the bait, seeks out Lucretia, and in a bumbled attempt at seduction rapes her.
What is clever in Burbach’s production is the way she makes the audience feel complicit. When Langford circles the space after the rape scene, she stalks the audience with accusing eyes, and we feel that we are voyeuristic accomplices to the rape. We have watched, yet did nothing to intervene. There is a real nobility in Langford’s performance that empowers her character despite the tragic consequences of her violation.
Britten’s score is an acquired taste, but the twelve strong orchestra under Peter Selwyn’s Musical Direction make it immediately accessible. From its mixture of rich tension and sparse atmosphere the cast are able to wring out the emotion. It is beautifully acted and sung, particularly Jouhl and Murray whose articulation leaves no stone unturned as they uncover the action.
It is easy to see why Britten’s opera is perceived as a story of despair and moral emptiness, and often the final message of redemption and Christian suffering seems shoehorned onto the narrative. In Burbach’s intimate production, though, the final poignant notes, rather than resounding with empty absolution, leave us wanting to dig deeper into the subtext and think more about the characters’ motivations. And how we feel about them. It’s not a comfortable piece. But thoroughly engaging.
