|
|
I really, really, really wanted to like this show. I really did. As a fan of Rufus, a fan of opera, and a fan of all things new and daring, I sat down with hopes as high as the top hat that Rufus sported on the night (oh yes he did. And a dandy cane).
Here was a show, I thought, that would bridge the gap between the mainstream and the elite, a show that would chase out opera snobbery and open the genre up to a whole new generation of 'goers.
This is the colourful singer’s first attempt at opera – and to be fair, the boy done pretty good. As a lifelong fan of the genre he certainly knows his stuff, and his work references some of the greats. And the production really is quite wonderful – with Anthony McDonald's fabulously eclectic stage design resembling, I imagine, what Versailles would look like if Elton John were to explode all over its walls and soft furnishings. But there was something lacking. Something big. Something fundamental. Oh, a plot. That’s what.
It’s hard to tell whether Rufus is taking the piss out of traditional opera with his vacuous, cheesy plotline and over -simple and at times repetitive libretto. In a way, I hope so. But then that seems unlikely considering how much he has professed the genre to mean to him. A line in the show goes 'it's almost like being in an opera'. Almost. Not quite. Because if it was like being in an opera, there would have been passion. There would have been intrigue. And there definitely would have been tears in my eyes.
Here, in a garish neon nutshell, is what happens: It’s Bastille Day 1970. Darling of the Paris opera scene, Regine Saint Laurent, has been out of work since her dramatic exit from the limelight six years ago, when she fell in love with the leading man in her new show, but then discovered him in an adulterous clinch backstage. So she lost her voice and couldn't perform any more. Then, as she’s preparing for her grand comeback, she's interviewed by a journalist-cum-opera-wannabe who she ends up falling for because he looks a bit like the bloke from six years ago. You still with me? Anyway, it turns out that the journalist is already engaged to somebody else (a very random Madam Butterfly figure called Sophie) - so once again, Regine is heartbroken, and decides that she can't possibly return to the stage.
And that, pretty much, is it.
But apart from the fact that nothing much really happens and the mundane libretto seems at times to clash with the rousing score, there are commendable performances all round and a few memorable arias which have Rufus' stamp all over them. Janis Kelly is every inch the diva as the emotionally charged Regine, stalking the stage like a catwalk and appearing at times to have been torn straight out of the pages of Parisian Vogue. And the impish soprano Rebecca Bottone is breathtaking as the sprightly maid Marie.
Also noteworthy is Jonathan Summers’ performance as the sinister and overbearing butler Philippe, who appears to have just abseiled out of a tall building in Gotham City to take part in the show.
This is a production that divides people – something that was clearly demonstrated in the audience’s response as the curtain fell. A standing ovation here, a total refusal to clap there, and a half arsed tap of the knee elsewhere. Me, I left feeling somewhere in the middle – unmoved but appreciative.
If you missed out on seeing Prima Donna during its run in Manchester you can catch it when it moves to London, Toronto and Melbourne in 2010.
Review: Prima Donna
Tin Can rating: 3/5
Written by: Rufus Wainwright
Directed by: Daniel Cramer
Tags: prima donna rufus wainwright daniel cramer theatre opera
comments 0
|
|
