Tag Archives: Edinburgh International Festival

ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE

★★★★★

Edinburgh International Festival

ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE

Edinburgh International Festival

★★★★★

“This is a finely wrought work, every element chosen with precision”

The theatre curtain glows with a looping projection—what many today would call a “boomerang”, though not of the Australian variety. The image fades. In the pit, the live orchestra tunes. The curtain rises to reveal an aerial artist suspended in a mist of golden haze, dressed in crimson, as she tumbles and falls while descending. It is Eurydice’s death on her wedding night—her plunge into the underworld. The image is both haunting and beautiful. Our evening of visual poetry begins.

The ancient story: Eurydice dies on her wedding day, and Orpheus, the world’s greatest musician, journeys to Hades to bring her back—on one cruel condition: he must not look at her until they have left the underworld. In this staging, Orpheus awakens in an asylum, visited by Amor, who offers the same bargain—the Greeks and their Sisyphean tasks, the test of patience, the temptation to turn too soon. We think we know how this ends. We read, “Love triumphs.” But does it?

The star is Christoph Gluck’s luminous score, performed with clarity and elegance by the Scottish Chamber Orchestra and the Chorus of Scottish Opera under the baton of Laurence Cummings. Another standout is the collaboration of several artistic forces, including direction and scenic design by Yaron Lifschitz, choreography by Lifschitz, Bridie Hooper, and the Circa ensemble. Costumes are by Libby McDonnell, video design by Boris Bagattini. Countertenor Iestyn Davies gives Orpheus a voice of ache and purity, while Samantha Clarke sings both Eurydice and Amor with grace and power. The movement artists are the kinetic heart of the piece—always in motion, inhabiting the liminal space between myth and dream, unflinchingly hurling themselves into these underworlds of kinetic flow.

The set is a white box. Other small structures appear, then vanish. Supertitles are video-mapped onto the back wall, integrated into the scenery before decaying and falling away, like Eurydice’s first descent.

The colour palette is stark: white, black, and red. The language is that of symbols, each one dissolving into the next. The chorus becomes part of the set; dancers counterbalance against walls, walk horizontally when lifted, roll, and dive along vertical planes. There is no safety net.

A green circle of grass appears; red petals rain gently down. Three male dancers share a breathtaking trio, weaving, diving, and cascading over and under one another. Dancers mask and unmask, building impossible towers of bodies. The production flows from one potent image to the next—each a tableau of loss, longing, and fragile, precarious triumph.

This is a finely wrought work, every element chosen with precision. Music meets voice, meets movement, meets circus. Opera and contemporary circus intertwine in a pas de deux—tumbling, floating, weightless. Gluck’s Orpheus and Eurydice is brought back from the underworld, but in this telling, we should not avert our gaze. Perhaps we should never look away.



ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE

Edinburgh International Festival

This show is a European production premiere with Opera Australia, presenting Opera Queensland’s production of Orpheus and Eurydice in association with Circa

Reviewed on 13th August 2025 at Edinburgh Playhouse

by Louis Kavouras

Photography by Jess Shurte

 

 

 

 

 

 

ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE

ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE

ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE

DANCE PEOPLE

★★★

Edinburgh International Festival

DANCE PEOPLE

Edinburgh International Festival

★★★

“As the sun sets, darkness transforms the space, and the lighting takes full effect”

An empty courtyard. A red ribbon separates the performance space from the audience area. Lebanese-French dance company Maqamat takes the stage—or rather, the quad. We’re in the Old College Quad, surrounded by lights, a dance floor, movable red stairs, and rolling platforms. Choreographers Omar Rajeh and Mia Habis have promised us an interactive dance performance.

The dancers greet the guests warmly. This is a charming company—open, inviting. We are given instructions about the rolling platforms: we may join the dance if we wish, or watch from the sidelines.

An announcement begins. We are addressed as citizens. We are told, this is a work about people—about movement and motion, leading and following, conforming and resisting.

The ribbon is cut. We are invited into space. Humans do what is natural: we move toward open spaces. We migrate, infiltrate, collect, and immigrate. We watch as people find places. The best place—a place where they can lean or sit. Survey or interact.

This piece merges the kinesthetic world of the dancer with that of the viewer. Here, there is no distinction—we are all citizens of this space. The company deliberately erases and annihilates the boundaries between stage and audience, performer and observer—this is a common space and a shared dance.

Thirty minutes into the piece, the kinetic part of the dance begins.

It becomes clear that this contemporary dance company has its distinctive kinetic style—movement initiated centrally, flowing from the core to the periphery of the body. Motion fluid with percussive, vibratory, ricocheting elements—full of rebound and drive. There’s a strong sense of contact: with each other, with the space itself.

The choreography incorporates basic locomotor actions—skipping, galloping, stomping, leaps —executed with spontaneity, at times improvised, movement in waves that swell outward and then fall back into the body’s core or the pack’s center. Though it seems improvised, it is clear that the vocabulary is deeply understood and embedded in the company’s practice. This group knows and understands itself and the process of doing what they do.

Movement happens solo, then in duets, until eventually a collective energy forms—something like a rave, a dance pack that migrates draws the audience into participation. Soon, everyone is dancing. The work is fully immersive. The music is live with a live DJ also mixing our aural world.

As the sun sets, darkness transforms the space, and the lighting takes full effect. The audio engineer roams among the crowd. Platforms roll. Lights pulsate a-rhythmically. The Old Quad buildings get bathed in light and projection. New spaces are defined and isolated. A visual artist makes several works. There are introductions, interviews with audience members recounting their lives and occupations. Letters are addressed and announced to all kinds of individuals. Movement instructions appear on the walls. The audience follows or resists. In the final moments, all the taped red divisions and marked boundaries are ripped away, and worn as a final dance costume. The boundaries and demarcations are the outer casing.

Dance People claims in its publicity to explore power structures, the collisions between democracy and dictatorship, activism and politics. It promises bold new forms. Yet much of what unfolds feels familiar—maybe that’s the point. Unthreatening dictators dictate and direct our lives and actions. We follow and often enjoy where we are taken, or we resist and do our own thing.

The ingredients of this work are interesting, concepts and images we’ve seen before. Symbolic red objects ultimately do not transcend their abstract metaphor. In the end, it feels less like a radical act and more like another immersive performance in an unconventional space. Been there before. Done that dance already. I’m sure I will do it again.

 



DANCE PEOPLE

Edinburgh International Festival

Reviewed on 8th August 2025 at Old College Quad

by Louis Kavouras

Photography by Tommy Ga-Ken Wan

 

 

 

 

 

 

DANCE PEOPLE

DANCE PEOPLE

DANCE PEOPLE