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THE OPERA LOCOS

★★★

Sadler’s Wells Theatre

THE OPERA LOCOS

Sadler’s Wells Theatre

★★★

“a breezy showcase of real vocal firepower”

Whoever said ‘opera is for the masses’ should catch ‘The Opera Locos’ – a bonkers cabaret blending Saint-Saëns and Mozart with Sinatra and Michael Jackson. It delivers some dazzling renditions of opera’s toughest arias, even if the loose comedy and structure leave me wanting more. Still, it’s an entertaining, accessible and impressive showcase of vocal mastery.

Five superb singers take the stage: Alfredo (Jesús Álvarez), a once glorious tenor past his prime; Enrique (Enrique Sánchez-Ramos), a brawny baritone with a sweet streak; Franelli (Michaël Koné), a camp counter-tenor who loves Céline as fiercely as Callas; Maria (María Rey-Joly), a starry eyed soprano chasing her own operatic fairytale; and Carmen (Mayca Teba), a self possessed mezzo with unapologetic allure. Come celebrate love, loss and above all – opera!

Conceived by YLLANA and Rami Eldar, the show repurposes opera classics, stringing them into a loose, mostly upbeat, narrative. Throwaway Act 1 jokes return smartly in Act 2, and the somewhat thinly drawn characters become more charming as they go. There’s also a welcome queer love story, flashes of dark humour, and some entertaining audience participation. Though several sketches feel thin. And while it’s billed as a show for everyone, it definitely helps if you know the repertoire, with long sung through stretches and an extended audience singalong section which assumes you know the words.

YLLANA’s commedia dell’arte infused direction bursts with colourful costumes, mask like makeup, and plenty of physical comedy. The nonsense sing speak – a babble of faux French, Spanish, and Italian, with occasional English for emphasis – is embellished with virtuoso ornamentation that turns sighs and screams into pitch perfect musical moments. Act 2 is a step up from Act 1, with bigger hits, bigger ideas, sharper comedy and more acting – though it’s debatable whether a 90 minute show really needs an interval.

Musical directors Marc Álvarez and Manuel Coves shape an easy to love playlist, mixing classical staples with pop crowd pleasers to appeal to a broad audience and keep the energy high. The score cleverly highlights how closely the two worlds overlap – or rather, how many pop tunes are quietly borrowed from classics. The way the lush pre recorded orchestra – performed by Orquesta Sinfónica VERUM, conducted by Coves – fades into rehearsal piano smartly moves the narrative forward. The final medley is a crowd pleaser, kicking off with ‘Time to Say Goodbye’ before weaving in spot on pop cues for each character.

The cast is vocally outstanding with crisp delivery, vibrant coloratura, and gorgeously rich tones across the board. Rey Joly’s sparkling soprano tears through the toughest bars of Mozart’s ‘Queen of the Night’ aria while seated, pairing virtuosity with effortless, whimsical charm. Teba’s sumptuous mezzo floods the room, and her magnetic presence makes every audience interaction sizzle. Álvarez shifts from tragic Alfredo to triumphant ‘Nessun dorma’, also delivering a deeply moving ‘Vesti la giubba’. Sánchez Ramos’ velvety baritone unexpectedly flips into falsetto as machismo melts, and expertly coaches the audience through the extended singalong. Michaël Koné’s soaring countertenor floats above it all, while charming us with camp sincerity that Enrique can’t help but fall for.

The design is beautiful. Set design (Tatiana De Sarabia, David Ottone, Yeray González) immediately sets a playfully dramatic tone. Costumes (de Sarabia) are ravishing – a colourful fever dream take on classic opera silhouettes which are stunning in their own right. The sound design (Luis López de Segovia) has flair, especially the applause bursting from Alfredo’s old poster. However, the overall mix could use tightening, with orchestral swells occasionally overwhelming the cast and pop vocals fading out. The lighting design is arresting, especially the sculptural side lighting which transforms characters in the central opening.

‘The Opera Locos’ is a breezy showcase of real vocal firepower – an accessible and genuinely inviting way into opera. It’s well worth a visit if you crave fun over formality.



THE OPERA LOCOS

Sadler’s Wells Theatre

Reviewed on 25th February 2026

by Hannah Bothelton

Photography by Annelize Tozetto


 

 

 

 

THE OPERA LOCOS

THE OPERA LOCOS

THE OPERA LOCOS

THE SOUND OF ABSENCE

★★★

Omnibus Theatre

THE SOUND OF ABSENCE

Omnibus Theatre

★★★

“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.

 



THE SOUND OF ABSENCE

Omnibus Theatre

Reviewed on 24th February 2026

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Valya Korabelnikova


 

 

 

 

THE SOUND OF ABSENCE

THE SOUND OF ABSENCE

THE SOUND OF ABSENCE