In the hours before Valentine’s Day there must have been hundreds of holiday-specific shows that aimed to make their audience fall in love. Kiss me, Figaro! is certainly successful in its quest. Produced by the Merry Opera Company, it tells the story of a touring opera troupe whose choice of last-minute replacement tenor (Joe Morgan) does not sit well with the lead soprano (Daisy Brown). Backstage, sparks fly and tempers flare in an exciting introduction to opera that falls into a similar space to Noises Off. This time, however, the romance is key and, as with many love stories, the duo have a history that they seem to only be able to verbalise through song.

Supported by a small but wonderful ensemble, their backstage romancing is soundtracked by a handful of beautiful voices that come together to provide the audience with a pathway into understanding and enjoying opera as a medium. Each of the pieces, be it Puccini, Mozart, Irving Berlin or Donizetti (to name but a few), is arranged accessibly, some with neat introductions and some falling right into place within the story.

It is not all drama and romance, however. There are hilarious interludes from various members of the company, led by Matthew Quirk as Marcus Sherwood – artistic director of the opera-within-the-opera – and his estranged wife Jacqueline (Kristin Finnigan), who quite literally suffers anything for her art. If anything, I would have liked to have seen a little more of their story as a contrast to the central romance, but their presence is felt no matter what their roles, such is their self-assurance and resounding ability. The same goes for the rest of the ensemble, small though it is, with every voice and performance both emotionally and aurally fulfilling. Their characters, ranging from supportive to sharp, from honest to romantic, are played for the laughs as well as the tears.

The stand-outs, however, are most certainly Morgan and Brown, their chemistry on stage perfectly summed up by an early scene in which Brown toys with her beau’s feelings to hilarious but electric effect. Their vocals match well and, as characters backstage, one can almost feel the tension between them. This is heightened by the simple lighting, the dramatic scene changes and the wonderful music provided by Stephen Hose, on stage throughout and full of an unerring enthusiasm and concentration for a note perfect performance.

The Merry Opera Company here provides a sweet, funny and romantic introduction into the world of opera, with a hard-working, innovative cast who, while performing such fascinating and complex pieces, provide an entry level into a complex art form. As, admittedly, a newcomer to the genre, their crash course in operatic romance – entwined with a backstage drama-comedy – is not only satisfying, but has definitely ignited an interest in the opera and its romantic leanings. Go and see it – it could light a fire under the coldest of hearts.

Kiss me, Figaro! is playing at the Riverside Studios until 2 March, then going on tour. For more information and tickets, see the Riverside Studios website.

Kirsty Emmerson

Final year English student, determined to get into theatre by hook or by crook, I spend half of my time reading and the other half trying to write on anything and everything I can get my hands on. Fuelled by tea and whatever new food I’m trying this week, you’ll find me in theatres or bookshops, probably mumbling about Shakespeare or the latest cricket scores.

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Both the lady and her lover attest far too much in Christopher Alden’s saucy take on Rigoletto. With more fluffy sentimentality than a Clinton Cards store on Valentine’s Day, Gilda (Anna Christy) and her mysterious, masquerading Duke (Barry Banks) writhe around, declaring undying love from the midst of a torrent of rose petals. Kissed with brash, overblown romantic gestures, this production bears a taunting, blood-red stain of cynicism. And so, in an opera that clutches deception and promiscuity close to its wicked heart, declarations that “my love will never turn away from you” have as much emotional resonance as a Moonpig greetings card hastily detonated on February 15th.

But the genders were never going to get along. We learn this early on, when heavily-clothed ladies weave a bolshy parade through a gentlemen’s club, bisecting the weighty, wood-panelled set that embraces this production from beginning to end. As the tragedy mounts and the Duke warns us that “women are changeable, so unpredictable” (‘La donna è mobile’), Gilda’s faked masculinity is her ruin. As the Duke scoffs his way through this canzone, peeling back the thin curtain that masks Gilda’s downfall, his knowing black humour and the devilish irony in his wordplay reveal as much as his actions.

Separated from this division between troublesome men and their knowing, sacrificing women, one couple stands proud and equal. Sparafucile, the assassin hired by our eponymous hero to murder the fickle Duke, and Maddalena, his black widow of an accomplice, are presented with an incestuous bite. The pair work well respectively, but their sexual charge seems frivolous and unnecessary in a narrative that so casually misunderstands Gilda’s relationship with her father.

But while the thrust of her tabooed relationship adds little to this opera, Justina Gringyte’s Maddalena is a joy to watch on stage. Dressed by designer Michael Levine in jewels, a corset, lacy white undershorts and structural hoop skirt, she cuts a glamorous figure of perversion. Simultaneously tempting the Duke into exposing his infidelity, and preparing him for Sparafucile’s assault, she engineers the completion of his crime and the start of what could be his punishment in one fair sweep.

Sometimes the details of this tragedy are a little murky – Count Monterone’s initial curse is rather flabby, the parallels between him and Rigoletto are barely explored, the spirit of revenge is not as sharp as perhaps it could be, and Gilda’s self-sacrifice is foggy at times. However, viewers diligently focused on the courageous proclamations of central characters could easily miss the buxom, alternative displays of romance carried out by chorus members. Producing the sights of an orgy and the sounds of a storm, Alden’s chorus pulls attention away from the central scandal. As Duane Schuler’s fantastic lighting design teases the balance between the interiors and exteriors of mind, space and clique, this production stores a multiplicity of its thrills in the shadows.

Rigoletto is playing at the London Coliseum until 14 March. For more information and tickets, see the English National Opera website.

Photo (c) Alastair Muir.

Amelia Forsbrook

Formerly one of the Wales Arts International critics, Amelia moved to London in early 2012 with two big aims: to continue working as an arts writer, and to discover whether it's ever possible to pull off both telephones and flying in theatre. With particular interests in regional arts, South Asian performance and twentieth century European theatre, Amelia writes for a number of other publications, as well as being an Off West End Assessor.

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One might wonder whether creating an opera for very young children is a good idea. It can be hard to follow at the best of times, even with surtitles, and kids aren’t known for their brilliant attention spans. Yet here, in the heart of sunny Central London at the Royal Opera House, it has been accomplished.

How the Whale Became (and Other Tales) is based on poet Ted Hughes’s collection of short stories, The Dreamfighter and Other Creation Tales, and has been adapted into this libretto by Edward Kemp. Both he and Director Natalie Abrahami pose the big questions in life to their young audience using a brilliantly fantastical world and inventive songs. Designer Tom Scutt, who won the WhatsonStage award for Best Set Designer 2013 for Constellations and The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe, has created something which resembles a junk yard: all recycled rubbish and compost heaps sprouting various fruit and veg. It looks chaotic but is a devastatingly brilliant visionary experience for all audience members (not just the under fives). A foreboding contraption at the heart of the stage looks like some sort of time-machine (excellent!) and as it produces such things as a glamorous polar bear and a rather camp, hyperactive peacock, there’s no room to be anything but dazzled.

The cast could all work for CITV, beaming wildly at the excitable kids and interacting whole-heartedly with them. Their turns as each animal in the show are inventive and often comical, sprouting heaps of laughter from everyone in the audience. Stand-outs include Welsh soprano Fflur Wyn, who makes her début with The Royal Opera singing and playing the roles of Girl, Polar Bear and Wild Cow, whilst tenor Andrew Dickinson also débuts as Boy and Wild Bull, and baritone James McOran-Campbell plays Mouse, Peacock and Leftover. All three look comfortable in their respective – if rather silly – roles and sing wonderfully. The rest of the cast also do a tremendous job.

How the Whale Became is unfortunately lacking in any storyline. Scenes and events appear to come from nowhere and it is exceptionally difficult to keep track of them, made all the more tricky by the fact it is an opera, and I found myself struggling to understand what the actors were singing, omitting even more structure. I suppose this show is designed for young people and looking around at their eager, happy faces I could see it has done its job. For the parents watching it, I’m not so sure, but presumably seeing such happiness in their children’s faces can only be a good thing. It’s aesthetically crazy, bright and exciting, so if you’re barely out of nappies or have kids, then go and see it – or if you’re looking to see your first opera and don’t want any drama, check it out!

How the Whale Became (and Other Tales) is playing at the Linbury Studio theatre in the Royal Opera House until 4 January 2014. For more information and tickets, see the Royal Opera House website.

Image copyright ROH and Catherine Ashmore.

Samuel Sims

Sam is Reviews Co-ordinator for A Younger Theatre as well as a freelance writer and editor who hails from Hull, though he has been in London for roughly 300 years. He enjoys multi-coloured socks, eating sausage rolls and seeing as much theatre as humanly possible.

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This autumn, the English National Opera (ENO) revives its hugely successful Satyagraha, a contemporary opera by Philip Glass which broke box office records back in 2007 and was critically acclaimed as a theatrical masterpiece.

Satyagraha is the second of Glass’s trilogy of operas about men who changed the world, and looks at Mahatma Gandhi’s early years in South Africa. It follows his development of non-violent protests as a political tool and depicts different important stages of Gandhi’s life and work. Performed in Sanskrit, and combined with Glass’s sensitive score, it paints an almost hypnotic sound-image of one of the most important men in modern history.

Satyagraha is visually one of the most extraordinary productions I have ever seen: Julian Crouch’s set design is nothing less than awe-inspiring. Featuring huge puppets, devised pieces and aerialists, it is a production that sets sail to seduce your eyes in a visual experience of the story. Using newspapers as a key element of the design, creatures are brought to life and torn apart: the set morphs into new images and the audience is visually beguiled by the seemingly millions of incredible ideas pouring out of Crouch’s brain and into the life of the set.

Phelim McDermott’s direction is equally as focused and delicate, and it’s clear he has an eye for aesthetics. Chorus scenes are enchanting to look at – the on-stage presence is captivating and some powerful images emerge as the cast send their lights flying up in the air, or leave their shoes in one long row front stage.

Musically it’s more of a musical image than a story-based score. It doesn’t feel very progressive and with all the wonders going on set-wise, it feels like the music is just an accompaniment to a very interesting devised piece. That said, the cast is very talented and Alan Oke’s Gandhi is sung beautifully and with a lot of soul. Acting-wise, the performers lack spontaneity: by working in slow motion throughout most of the performance, they resemble more of a dance troupe than characters full of variety, with different tempos and energies. As with the music, they feel more like an abstract picture feeding into the visual story, rather than characters with intensive inner lives.

Lasting about three and a half hours, this performance is very long without subtitles. Some of the images and devised aspects are prolonged and ask a lot of patience from the audience. Not knowing what is being sung, it is a huge help if you know the life and works of Gandhi to make more sense of this long, visual feast. However, as a whole the piece hypnotises and wakens you at the same time: it is full of integrity and feeling, and will blow your mind with its playful imagery and powerful, thought-provoking design. If you like to be visually stunned, then Satyagraha is definitely for you.

Satyagraha is playing at the London Coliseum until 8 December. For more information and tickets, see the English National Opera website. (c) Donald Cooper.

Camilla Gurtler

Camilla is currently training as a director on the Young Directors’ Programme with StoneCrabs Theatre Company. Camilla has worked as a director, actress and writer in Denmark and London, and loves Shakespeare, greek tragedies and children’s theatre. She’s obsessed with coffee, dislikes ranting on stage and hates the colour yellow. Especially mustard-yellow.

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