|
|
 |
| |
| |
Judith Howarth (Cio-Cio-San) waits with her son, the puppet Sorrow, and maid Suzuki (Karen Cargill) for Pinkerton (Gwyn Hughes Jones), below left |
The Butterfly effect
REVIEW: MADAM BUTTERFLY
Coliseum
CAROLYN Chao’s revival of Madam Butterfly, like the Anthony Minghella version it is based on, is refreshingly straightforward.
Gone are the complicated anti-Imperialist subtexts, to be replaced with a simple telling of the story of Cio-Cio-San – a geisha who finds love in an arranged marriage, but falls foul of the severity of Japanese ritual and the feckless infidelity of her American husband.
This approach allows the beauty of Puccini’s masterpiece to take centre stage. Judith Howarth sings the title role, and though her physical performance was wonderful, her vocals sometimes fell short of the emotion (and range) required of Cio-Cio-San. Her rendition of “Un bel di vedremo” received the customary applause, but it wasn’t quite the hair-raising experience this aria should be.
On the other hand, Gwyn Hughes Jones, reprising the role of Pinkerton, was perfect in both his vocal and physical presence.
We never come to despise Pinkerton – something Chao must answer for – but we can certainly love Hughes Jones’s interpretation of the character’s main arias.
While the translation was at times clumsy, the staging itself was flawless. A finely balanced mix of simple on-stage props and wildly extravagant costumes used the vast expanse of the Coliseum’s stage to spellbinding effect.
The set-pieces were superb, from the opening depiction of the geisha in silhouette through to the gorgeous lamp-lit duet in the garden and a delicate sunset humming chorus at the end of Act 2.
Previous versions of Minghella’s Butterfly have been criticised for placing a puppet rather than a child in the role of Sorrow, Cio-Cio-San’s son. The argument goes that this dehumanises the role and balks at the horror of the scene. I must admit, however, that I felt quite the opposite – a swell of pity for the poor child (superbly manipulated by three members of Blind Summit). By the time Cio-Cio-San sends him off to play as she readies herself for suicide, the innocence of the little mite had reduced me to an emotional basket case.
This is the key to Madam Butterfly. If you fail to be moved by Cio-Cio-San’s story – her terrible journey from the blissful illusion of marriage and its promise of happiness to the crushing reality of abandonment – you are, quite simply, dead on the inside and should probably seek medical advice.
This is not the best production of Madam Butterfly imaginable – Renata Tebaldi achieved that many years ago – but it is nonetheless a worthy one that even an opening night auditorium full of cellophane wrinklers and nose breathers could not detract from.
Nine performances only
Until March 7
Order on 0870 040 0070 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
