THE OTHER MOZART

Omnibus Theatre

★★★★

“Hilarious, moving and heartbreaking”

Despite being interested in classical music, I went into this performance knowing almost nothing about Wolfgang Mozart’s sister, Maria Anna ‘Nanneri’ Mozart—the titular ‘other’ Mozart-—a historical elision that creator, writer and performer Sylvia Milo’s striking and innovative work seeks to address.

In the form of a dramatic monologue, The Other Mozart narrates the life of Nanneri, from her early years as child prodigy born to a musical family in Saltzberg, then performing alongside her brother across Europe, through her teenage years as she is gradually sidelined and eventually left at home while her brother travels the continent, and finally as she is married to a baron living in an isolated castle. She ends her life orphaned and without her brother, returning to Salzberg to give music lessons.

This arc is performed wonderfully by Milo, who is totally engaging as the frustrated but still proud ‘talented’ sister to the ‘genius’ brother. Funny as a child, playing both the joy and annoyance of the older sister of a precocious younger brother, she becomes deeply moving in the pain of thwarted ambition. Throughout, she moves beautifully, aided by director Isaac Byrne and period movement director Janice Orlandi, a hilarious highlight being her mimed promenade with tall hair and a walking stick as she returns from fashionable Vienna to become the talk of the town in the relative backwater of Salzberg.

The staging reflects the originality of piece. An eighteen-foot dress with a spidery bodice sits erect at the centre of the space, its skirt scattered with musical scores, reviews of the siblings’ performances, and letters from Nanneri’s family, which she reads aloud or tosses away depending on their content – often she does both. The bodice is an ingenious piece of staging and costume design (by Magdalena Dąbrowska and Miodrag Guberinic). It sits there from Nanneri’s relatively free youth, a foreboding reminder of the constraints that bound non-noble women in eighteenth-century Europe, both sartorially and societally: despite her prodigious talent there is no suggestion that Nanneri will be able to follow her brother into a career in performance and the bodice constantly underscores that reality. When, following her marriage, she finally puts it on, it is a devastating moment. Nanneri’s taking up the restrictive dress of marriage is accompanied by a horrifying mechanical creaking and wrenching — a standout example of the excellent sound design by Nathan Davis—reflecting the rigidity and inescapability of roles available to women at the time.

The lighting (Joshua Rose) is stellar, picking out Milo in colour, casting her shadow onto the rear wall and fading her into darkness as her world shrinks. The use of powdered makeup and fragrance to catch the light is an especially effective technique that complements Courtney Bednarowski’s ostentatious hair design.

Musically, the piece also underlines the imbalance, the work of her brother, father, and contemporary noblewoman composer Marianna Martines are played loudly, while music standing in for Nanneri’s compositions (by Nathan Davis and Phyllis Chen) is played on bells, a music box or a tea set, the smallness and domesticity of the instruments nevertheless does not diminish its beauty.

Following success at last year’s Edinburgh Fringe, The Other Mozart makes a triumphant arrival to London. Working with limited archival sources (Nanneri states that the letters she sent to her brother have not been saved), Milo has crafted a moving portrait of the overshadowed sister of one of music’s great names. Hilarious, moving and heartbreaking by turns, Milo’s piece shines a light on a frustrated St Cecilia and asks us to question which other unique, female voices have been silenced throughout history.

THE OTHER MOZART

Omnibus Theatre

Reviewed on 16th April 2026

by Rob Tomlinson

THE OTHER MOZART

★★★

“a brave and exposing piece of theatre”

Dylan Thomas’ poem, ‘Do not go gentle into that good night’, was supposedly written for his dying father. It has no title other than its first line which appears as a refrain throughout the poem along with its other refrain; ‘Rage, rage against the dying light’. The repetition gives it a cyclical structure, encapsulating the intensity of grief that the writer seems unable to escape from. It is fitting, then, that the rhythm, and the musicality, of Thomas’ words are echoed throughout Yanina Hope’s experimental play with music, “The Sound of Absence”.

Like the poem, it is uninterested in sentimentality. Indeed, Hope dwells on the ‘Rage’ for much of the time. Inspired by her own relationship with her father, the writer and performer – Yanina Hope – has put herself centre stage to grapple with the complex emotions under the audience’s up-close gaze. Hope takes on the persona of Lenore, recalling the events of how she rushes to an Intensive Care Unit hundreds of miles away where her father is lying, only to arrive too late. What follows is an analytical look at the stock feelings that are inherent in the aftermath, and a look at the relationship she never had.

The premise is not overly innovative, cataloguing the five stages of grief, although Lenore never seems to pass beyond the first two. What sets this piece apart, though, is the musical underscore. There is no set – just an imposing grand piano. Composer and pianist, Vladyslav Kuznetsov, plays throughout. It provides a beautiful backdrop; Kuznetsov’s sensitive style matching his compositions that reflect the words being spoken. A compelling and haunting device that unfortunately becomes victim to the success of its intentions. Despite wearing a headset mic, Hope often goes unheard in the mix; yet it is not just the sound mix that severs the connection between prose and music. It often feels like two separate narratives, and being pushed into choosing which one to follow, the piano wins. It feels improvised but Kuznetsov’s skill lies in non-conventional melodies, mixing crashing chords that give way to a softer undertow of mournful arpeggios. This tidal pattern draws us in, guiding us through Hope’s monologues.

The spoken word has less impact. Hope’s vocal cadences spanning a more limited range than the musical canvas they are given. There is little need, too, for Anna Korzik’s movement direction which appears random and has no reason beyond style for style’s sake. Director Ivanka Polchenko does well to integrate the many disciplines the play offers, but the connection is tenuous. There are moments when we feel we are watching a drama exercise which detaches our own emotional ties to the performance.

Yet this is a brave and exposing piece of theatre. Hope prowls the stage intent on sniffing out and pinning down her whirlwind of emotions. The varying degrees of success is inevitable – many are beyond her grasp and they get away, although she does capture some moments of poignancy. The grief of arriving at her father’s bedside too late is counterbalanced by the revealed knowledge of his final words – and their echoing reassurance. However, the words fade faster into the night, and it is the music that lingers after curtain call. The two could be perfect partners, but each are dancing to their own tune. Nevertheless, it is genuine, heartfelt and important, with the definite potential to be something quite compelling.

Tag Archives: Omnibus Theatre

THE OTHER MOZART

★★★★

Omnibus Theatre

THE OTHER MOZART

Omnibus Theatre

★★★★

“Hilarious, moving and heartbreaking”