Einstein on the Beach, Barbican Theatre

Given the speed at which we lap up whatever musicals, films and TV shows that sail across the pond having proved a success, 36 years is an incredulously long time for a critically acclaimed US performance to make its UK premiere. But so it is with Einstein on the Beach, the avant-garde opera conceived by director Robert Wilson and composer Phillip Glass. Eagerly anticipated by so many, it has much to live up to and, after a wobbly start (on opening night there were so many technical malfunctions that Wilson himself came on stage to apologise), a few performances later this mathematical lullaby was astounding and entrancing.

Those hoping for a bildungsroman of Einstein’s life will be disappointed; instead of a narrative, various themes of his work and life are abstracted and layered upon one another using text, music, dance and visual effects. We see childhood memories and romance, a love of trains, travel and discovery and we also see glimpses of the atomic bombs that are the most troubling part of his legacy. The scientist appears (identified, of course, by his coiffure), but only for a half hour and in the guise of a violinist (Antonie Silverman) who sits alone at the front of the stage playing fast and tirelessly. The opera’s 4 Acts are framed and divided by short “knee-plays” which resemble one another in their use of the same two female performers who talk in placid, old-fashioned radio reporter’s voices, and the sequential, repeated numbers sung by the choir with impressive precision and religious intensity. These “knee-plays” work excellently within the piece: giving the audience a good opportunity to take a breather (as the piece is over 4 hours the audience are free to come and go) and giving a sense of continuity and circularity.

The queer music – in its intricate overlaid patterns and unusual combinations (at one moment Glass combines jazz, choral and electronica styles) – never really resolves into a melody, but then one feels it isn’t meant to. It keeps us lulled and yet compelled to keep listening. The text seems to be constructed in a similar way though its effect is very different. The short, broken-up and sometimes-repeated phrases, reminiscent of Samuel Beckett’s later works, are initially opaque but resonate sections can be picked out, such as the wistful “all these are the days my friends and these are the days my friends”, bringing human substance to the piece.

Lucinda Child’s choreography is elegant and eloquent. The first main dance sequence is a burst of light and lightness; to the choral repetition of “keep moving”, the dancers swirl euphorically (resembling atoms orbiting one another) across a stage that could be a seascape or a skyscape. In the second, they dance on platforms backed by spinning lights, then a screen with an atomic bomb blueprint drawn on it comes down, calling to mind the film Metropolis and its notion of people being slaves to a machine that ultimately destroys them. Thoroughout, the simple, androgynous costumes of suspenders, shirts, trousers and trainers implied human unity. The presence of Barbican technicians on stage at several points to move and set up pieces of set is actually appropriate given the piece’s subject matter.

All the performers: musicians, actors and dancers, were precise and passionate in their rendering of this challenging composition, which never loses momentum. Given that Einstein on the Beach is inspired by a physicist and is so technically ambitious, it is not cool and dispassionate but surprisingly beautiful: a piece of multi-sensory minimalism that tugged at my heart. A few lines from the last scene go some way to sum up the experience: “the night should be a time of peace and tranquillity, a time to relax and be calm. We have need of a soothing story to banish the disturbing thoughts of the day, to set at rest our troubled minds, and put at ease our ruffled spirits.”

Charlie Ely is a 23-year-old Londoner, currently studying for an MA in Theatre Studies at Central School of Speech and Drama. She graduated from Sussex University in 2011 with a First Class BA in English Literature and Theatre Studies, and got her first taste of reviewing before university when she spent two months writing for The Telegraph in Calcutta, India. She has a background in acting, directing, dancing and choreography, and is particularly passionate about experimental and physical theatre.

She reviewed Einstein on the Beach at the Barbican, and was unanimously selected by the judges. They particularly liked her “sophisticated analysis of the show overall, combined with well-chosen details”.