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Modern twist leaves much sweeter taste
CANDIDE
Eno – Coliseum
THE ENO, in collaboration with Theatre de Chatelet and La Scala Milan, have revamped Leonard Bernstein’s musical comedy Candide, originally performed in 1956 from Voltaire’s brilliant and biting 18th-century satire.
Then set against a background of McCarthyism and anti-red hysteria, the setting now is a time of declining and decaying US imperialism. The original production failed, but a year later West Side Story broke the mould into stark realism and commercial success.
Candide is a man of admirable naivety. He draws his inspiration from the teachings of Doctor Pangloss, who foolishly pronounces: “All is for the best in the best of all possible worlds.”
It is the prelude to a string of disasters. He and his lover, Cunegonde, are in turn robbed, raped, used and abused as they make a chaotic journey around the world.
Exposed to the violence and viciousness of the old and new world, Candide ultimately returns to his simple rural roots to “build his house, chop his wood, and make [his] garden grow”.
Robert Carsen has mounted a sumptuous production and joined with Ian Burton to do a major rewrite. However, under a soufflé of clever choreography, stunning sets, and the increasing strength of the ENO’s orchestra conducted by Runon Gamba, something is lost. A glass of bitter medicine becomes a jeroboam of sparkling champagne.
Voltaire wrote to expose the absurdity of bleached optimism and the corruption at the heart of society, as did Bernstein’s original writers. Yet this is an evening which pours out enjoyment; filled to the brim with passion and individual style.
Toby Spence is just superb as “poor Candide”, his faith in universal human goodness withstanding all his terrible experiences.
Spence has a purity of voice and character. Anna Christy’s Cunegonde has to handle a parody of Marilyn Monroe, used and abandoned by JFK, but always conscious of the material things, like her jewels.
Beverly Kline is the old woman with half a buttock. She gives it lashings of attack and buckets of panache.
Alec Jennings, in full wig, is the storyteller, Voltaire himself. And the mentally self-intoxicated Dr Pangloss is not quite as riveting as the original, played by Max Adrian, whose soundbites came out of a snapping crocodile’s mouth. All in all an evening well worth spending – but then I’m more of a baroque than a modernist.
Until July 12
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