TCHAIKOVSKY CHILD OF GLASS

Opera Holland Park

★★★★★

“Unforgettable and unmissable”

Writer, director, actor Tama Matheson specialises in transforming the life stories of famous composers into a unique performance piece. Last summer he tackled the life of Ludwig van Beethoven, bringing it to Holland Park in a sparkling blend of music and drama: a ‘highly polished jewel that reflects the words and music’ (my words – but ones that epitomise the general critical reception). This year Matheson conjures up the inner workings of Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky with the same emotional gravitas mixed with humour and, of course, music. Bringing on board The Royal Ballet soloist, Téo Debreuil, he adds a further dimension, enriching the narrative alongside pianist Jayson Gillham’s evocatively reimagined interpretations of the composer’s music.

“Tchaikovsky: Child of Glass” takes its title from the name his nanny adopted for him, reflecting his sensitive nature. She felt that he could shatter at any moment. Indeed, in Matheson’s staging of his life, we wonder how Tchaikovsky didn’t fall apart into a thousand splinters at any moment. The performance covers his life from childhood to death from cholera (some argue it might have been self-inflicted). There’s a lot to fit in, but Matheson makes the epic intimate. He turns exposition into an eye-opening tête-à-tête. Taking on the title role himself, Matheson has the charisma and presence to deliver it with panache, personality, pathos and playfulness.

Throughout, although we are fed the details (dates, composition titles, names of associates, tutors, mentors, lovers, family members…), they seep into our minds almost subliminally. Suzy Kohane plays many of the peripheral characters, enlivening them, often in short bursts of perfectly timed acting and reacting. She is the mother, the lover, the sister, the nanny; the doomed wife and the nearly-wife. Each switch is subtle and, when not in character, she echoes Tchaikovsky’s movements while Téo Debreuil floatingly shadows them in the background. There are gorgeous moments, too, when Debreuil pulls focus, sweeping the stage with his balletic movement, choreographed by Stephen Wicks. At times, the dancer represents the closeted side to Tchaikovsky’s personality: the sexuality that he simultaneously fought against and embraced. The nature he could never deny but that made his life impossible.

Similarly, Oliver Holland adopts many personalities with a like-minded versatility; including Tchaikovsky’s close, lifelong friend Nikolai Rubenstein, delicately illustrating the strained loyalties and harsh honesties that stretched and challenged their bond. Holland also reveals a comic flare, particularly during a Pythonesque scene in which he unsuccessfully tries to recruit the young, uncooperative Tchaikovsky into the civil service.

But let’s not forget the music. Jayson Gillham opens each act, humbly taking his seat at the Steinway concert grand. From there he is in command. This is more than a concert; it is a beautiful amalgam of theatre and music. Poetic lines of text serve as cues for selections of classic works, curated with perfection to reflect and enhance the narrative. That said, we could listen to Gillham unaccompanied and unadorned for hours alone. Yet weaved into the narrative, it lifts our emotions to the heights – proving Tchaikovsky’s theory that music is the only thing that “makes us whole when we are broken”.

His was not an easy life. He possibly never found true happiness – it was a life of “harsh reality with fleeting visions of joy”. Fame was a Sword of Damocles. The more celebrated he became, the more the public scrutinised him. His marriage to Antonina Miliukova was a cover and a sham – Kohane gives a wonderful performance of the wife, deliciously and dangerously unhinged. Her insight, and her knowledge of his homosexuality gave her a precarious hold over him. The separation was hard but necessary and it triggered a temporary writer’s block. But “an artist cannot wait for inspiration” Tchaikovsky mused. “One has to meet her halfway”. Towards the end he accepted himself more, reflected in exquisite moments of melancholy and peace as Matheson slips into wistful nostalgia. It is heartbreaking and uplifting. “The child of glass must shatter” he proclaims. Debreuil dances to the swan song while Gillham plays the finale from ‘Swan Lake’. Matheson becomes the dance, the music, and is led away by the dancer. To an afterlife? We’ll never know.

One thing we do know is that we have a much clearer understanding of Tchaikovsky’s life. And his music. Matheson could easily carry this off as a monologue, but surrounded by Kohane, Debreuil, Gillham and Holland (even choreographer, Stephen Wicks, has a cameo), this is an exquisite interpretation. Virtuosity and passion intertwined. Many a time the action is interrupted by applause as Gillham closes a piece of music. Many a time we are struck with a breathtaking routine, a cadence, a line of poetic dialogue. And many a time we are treated to Matheson’s sense of humour.

Tchaikovsky was the first Russian composer whose music made a lasting impression internationally. We can see why. “Tchaikovsky: Child of Glass” will certainly make a lasting impression on anyone who sees it. Unforgettable and unmissable.

TCHAIKOVSKY CHILD OF GLASS

Opera Holland Park

Reviewed on 13th August 2026

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Rachel Medina

TCHAIKOVSKY CHILD OF GLASS

TCHAIKOVSKY CHILD OF GLASS

TCHAIKOVSKY CHILD OF GLASS