Putting modern spin on Debussy classic
Realistic undertones pervading fairytale fantasy prove intriguing
symbolised perhaps in the birth of the child that Melisande does not live to see, is a mix of Ibsen-esque symbol-laced “realism” and fairytale fantasy, a search for universal truths in the domestic that can be traced through much of the literature of the time.
Like Opera North’s recent acclaimed Ring cycle, the period of the piece is indicated chiefly in the costuming. Rae Smith’s stage design is more impressionist, an indoor/outdoor world of fluctuating depth that is at its most attractive when Paule Constable’s lighting has the largest canvas to work on, as in the cave scene that closes Act Two. Framing tabs of curtain precisely delineate each scene – a technique that now looks a little dated, but undoubtedly suits the story-book approach of the score and the unhurried way of McVicar and conductor Stuart Stratford through it.
Carolyn Sampson’s brittle crown- and ring-losing Melisande is a woman who refuses to be tied down, but seems doomed from the start, and Andrei Bondarenko’s Pelleas a soul who barely recognises, far less understands, his own torment.
The performances of all the vocal principals are first rate, but the honours have to go to Roland Wood, for a singing and acting tourdeforceasherhusband Golaud. The company favourite may well have added a careerdefining role to his CV in this production. In that he is very ably supported by Alastair Miles as his grandfather Arkel, and – on opening night – by Cedric Amamoo as his son Yniold, their interaction at the end of Act IV among the opera’s most memorable scenes.
With the Orchestra of Scottish Opera’s growing relationship with Stratford producing beautifully measured playing from the pit – winds on particularly fine form – this is a Pelleas that can surely stand happily alongside the 20th century production that served the company for many years. Neil Cooper PLAYING war in the school playground is one thing in Owen Sheers’ play, first produced in 2015 and now on a UK tour of duty in John Retallack and George Mann’s revival of their Bristol Old Vic production. Being on the frontline of Afghanistan is quite another for the teenage boys who become men too soon, especially with everything that comes after.
This is clear from the opening monologue, spoken by Arthur, a lanky Bristol adolescent played by Dan Krikler. He becomes a dynamic narrator of his own destiny, as well as that of his best mates. Standing tall while he regales the audience with the sort of free-wheeling verse born of the club culture where he and his pals Taff and Hads let off steam, he is surrounded by both them andthemother,wifeand girlfriend they variously left behind. The shapes they throw in unison are a well choreographed routine, but when they speak, we see what they have lost as well.
On one level this is familiar territory for Sheers, whose verbatim play about wounded soldiers, The Two Lives Of Charlie F, won the Amnesty International freedom of Expression Award several Edinburgh Festival Fringes ago. The
Opera
energy that comes here from the poetry and heightened physical delivery transforms it into an even more urgent piece of work. Crucial to this are the immersive implosions of a dub-step soundtrack that so evocatively reflects the internal traumas of what used to be called shell-shock.
All of this joins forces to become a damning indictment of those who see the everyday tragedies laid bare here as mere collateral damage.