REVIEW: Martin Dreyer’s verdict on Opera North in Weill & Lerner’s Love Life, Leeds Grand Theatre, January 16

Max Westwell and Holly Saw performing the Divorce Ballet in Opera North’s Love Life. Picture: James Glossop

KURT Weill interrupted Alan Jay Lerner’s partnership with Frederick Loewe in 1948 when he needed book and lyrics for Love Life, which turned out to be his penultimate completed work for the musical theatre.

It was a shrewd move. Their joint decision to create a ‘vaudeville’ on the topic of married life was soundly rooted in their own experience, Weill having divorced and remarried Lotte Lenya, with Lerner at that time enjoying his second marriage (with six more to come).

With Love Life you get two for the price of one. On the one hand,there is a series of sketches, at roughly 30-year intervals from 1791 to 1948, charting the vagaries of a typical American marriage, with a couple and their two children weathering a changing society’s various pressures.

Interwoven with these are essentially music hall acts, which have varying degrees of relevance to the main narrative. This division only breaks down in the finale. Here Sam and Susan the central couple, having realised that their marriage is on the rocks, are lured into an Illusion Minstrel Show where they are encouraged to decide that they are no better apart than together. We leave them at opposite ends of a high wire, about to re-embark on the balancing act of marriage.

Quirijn de Lang’s Sam Cooper in Opera North’s Love Life. Picture: James Glossop

Matthew Eberhardt’s avowed mission as director was to make the distinction between these two strands abundantly clear. He succeeded, with considerable help from Zahra Mansouri’s designs. She kept the ageless family foursome in black – they were immune from changing fashions – while vivid colour was reserved for the variety acts.

In what was technically a semi-staged production, with the orchestra on a raised platform upstage, there were no fixed props, only movable furniture, with one intriguing exception. Overhead was an assemblage of geometrical trusses, the bare bones of lighting rigs, which grew more elaborate as the industrial and technological ages progressed, representing added complications for the couple while distilling the growing New York skyline.

What is absolutely stunning about this piece is Weill’s chameleon ability to adapt to the multiplicity of styles prevalent in America and elsewhere: jazz, blues, soft shoe shuffle, big band, barbershop, madrigal, not to mention standard operetta and operatic procedures.

In all of these James Holmes’s sense of style and command of the orchestra were vital to the success of the whole enterprise. Rhythms were everywhere crisp and alive, the players’ obvious enthusiasm inspiring the singers at every turn.

Quirijn de Lang and Stephanie Corley were well contrasted as the central couple, he more and more focused on bringing home the bacon and hustling for business, while she agonised over fitting her domestic role into the early throes of women’s lib.

His forthright baritone was especially witty in I’m Your Man, attempting to be all things to all men. Her soprano was at its most tender in Is It Him Or Is It Me?’, which summarised the difficulties in their relationship after they had decided on divorce. Louie Stow and Tilly Baker were their impeccable children.

Joshua da Costa, left, Andrew Randall, Masimba Ushe and Will Hopkins as the Quartet in Opera North’s Love Life. Picture: James Glossop

A broad spread of roles once again revealed the versatility of the Opera North chorus, not least as a male octet in Progress and as a taut mixed-voice madrigal group in Ho, Billy O!. Among the invitees, Themba Mvula was a spirited magician at the start and a wily MC in the closing minstrel show.

Justin Hopkins made a warmly avuncular Hobo, and there was sparkling bonhomie from the male quartet in a wry Economics and in Susan’s Dream. The Three Tots earn a mention for the unfettered joy of their song-and-dance routine.

Indeed, the choreographer Will Tuckett and his assistant Daisy West played an outstanding role, given that the cast included only two professional dancers. They were Holly Saw and Max Westwell, who delivered a poignant Divorce Ballet.

Finally, a word for Christine Jane Chibnall, returning as dramaturg here after retiring in the autumn after more than 40 years with the company, mainly as director of planning. Her vision and determination have not often received the appreciation they deserve.

The only disappointment of this show was that it received only two performances. It will surely be revived and soon. No-one should miss it.

Review by Martin Dreyer

Themba Mvula as the Magician/Con Man/Interlocutor in Opera North’s Love Life. Picture: James Glossop

REVIEW: Martin Dreyer’s verdict on English Touring Opera’s La Bohème and The Golden Cockerel, York Theatre Royal

Francesca Chiejina as Mimi and Luciano Botelho as Rodolfo in English Touring Opera’s La Bohème

English Touring Opera, La Bohème, April 8; The Golden Cockerel, April 9, at York Theatre Royal

IT was good to have English Touring Opera back in town. Don’t take my word for it. The Theatre Royal had to open its upper reaches to accommodate the throngs gratefully gathered for professional opera for the first time since Covid struck.

York Opera had led the way in fine style last autumn; ETO followed suit, with a potboiler and an exotic rarity.

Puccini’s La Bohème inevitably relies for its success on the lovers at its heart. The company had cast its net wide before settling on Brazilian tenor Luciano Botelho for the lovelorn Bohemian Rodolfo, casting Nigerian-American soprano Francesca Chiejina as his Mimì.

On this occasion, both began diffidently: it was partly a reflection of the amatory sheepishness of their characters, but also a result of under-projection. Botelho’s tenor disappeared into his head the higher up the range he went, while Chiejina took a while to release the tension in her jaw, which diminished her projection. She left the difficult final note of Act 1 far too early, a sure sign of lacking confidence.

Thereafter both improved and their Act 3 duet by the customs barrier found them much more relaxed and thus less self-conscious.

James Conway’s thoughtful production, revived here by Christopher Moon-Little, was based around deliberately simplistic designs by Florence de Maré (revived by Neil Irish). A large reflective glass panel leaned in on the bohemians’ attic, with the regulation stove in one corner and unusual seating provided by the basket of a hot-air balloon whose sandbags were cushions. Set on tea-chests, these became pillows for Mimì’s deathbed.

These bourgeois boys were well-clothed, affirmation that they would be returning to provincial ways once their salad days were done. In this way, set and production were complementary.

Michel de Souza’s warm baritone made a sympathetic Marcello, who was never going to be fooled by the glamour of Jenny Stafford’s Musetta; she in turn was more hard-edged than flirtatious.

Trevor Eliot Bowes’ pensive Colline and Themba Mvula’s lively Schaunard rounded out the well-balanced bohemians. Chorus members filled the cameo roles very competently and children from the York Music Hub Choir sang pleasingly – rather than the usual shouting – as Parpignol’s acolytes (he was ‘Pa’Guignol’, a Punch-and-Judy man).

Iwan Davies – not the main conductor for the run – stood in with distinction, his clear beat shaping accompaniment that always put the singers’ needs first. His orchestra responded with keen rhythms.

The chorus was in good heart at Café Momus, maintaining discipline amongst the hi-jinks. Despite the lack of outstanding soloists, this was a good, solid Bohème, well worth catching at Gala Theatre, Durham, on May 9 if you missed it this time in York.

Paula Sides as the exotic Queen of Shemakha in English Touring Opera’s The Golden Cockerel

Rimsky-Korsakov was one of the all-time great orchestrators and The Golden Cockerel, his last opera and the only one staged regularly outside Russia, offers plenty of evidence of this. Touring has made a reduced adaptation necessary, which Iain Farrington has handily provided.

It lacked some of the exoticism that a larger orchestra might have offered but kept the vital woodwinds very busy and retained enough glockenspiel glitter for the astrologer’s motif. Gerry Cornelius conducted it lovingly while keeping a good balance between stage and pit.

James Conway’s new production was well-timed. The fairy-tale libretto, based on a Pushkin poem, was sung here in a neatly rhyming translation by Antal Dorati and James Gibson. It tells of half-witted King Dodon’s fear that his country is about to be invaded.

When the work was selected it can hardly have crossed the company’s mind that a terrible real-life sequel would actually ensue. The analogy cannot be pushed too hard, but the exotic Queen of Shemakha – ‘Mother Russia’ it was suggested to me in the interval – does all she can to seduce Dodon and his court, opposed only by the ineffectual General Polkan.

The Astrologer who frames the action reveals at its close that only he and the Queen are real characters, “all the rest were dream, delusion…”. In fact, the opera is better seen as parodying naive techniques in Russian opera and to that extent anticipates Stravinsky’s Petrushka.

Conway did well to stick to the score and not introduce an excess of up-to-date connotations, other than dressing the royal housekeeper Amelka and three of her minions in military khaki. In the designs by Neil Irish, the general wore a Kaiser-style helmet, which implied a pre-First World War setting. The cockerel of the title was mainly perched on a look-out tower, so as to warn of impending invasion. She was appealingly drawn by the nimble Alys Mererid Roberts.

Grant Doyle gave an amusingly doddery Dodon, struggling to hold on to power, with his sons – who accidentally bump each other off in battle – portrayed as Tweedledum and Tweedledee by Thomas Elwin and Jerome Knox.

Amy J Payne was a regular martinet as Amelka, Edward Hawkins made a nicely bumbling Polkan, and Robert Lewis coped valiantly with the ultra-high tenor role of Astrologer, more than faintly reminiscent of Rasputin.

That left the bulk of the serious singing, in Acts 2 and 3, to Paula Sides as the Queen. Her coloratura, deliberately parodistic, hit the spot, and her somewhat shrill tone suited the orientalism of Rimsky’s score.

It was just as well we had English side-titles, as diction was generally less than ideal. The chorus played a full part in keeping the comedy vital, crawling out from under the curtain for their finale.

It has been 37 years since this work was given in Yorkshire, by Opera North, so unless you are young you may want to head to Durham on May 10.                                         

Review by Martin Dreyer