I don’t necessarily know what I want in a theatrical
experience, I only know if it works. But
like a good romance, those precious hours in the dark are magical. And usually it’s down to an inexplicable
combination of ingredients, acting and reacting to stimuli, to create a unique
and memorable cocktail.
Such is the power of The Royal Opera House’s production
of L’elisir d’amore and the acclaimed
Young Vic transfer to the Garrick Theatre, The
Scottsboro Boys.
So what’s the magic ingredient?
Well, in the case of Gaetano Donizetti’s infamous potion,
not much.
In fact, Donizetti’s leading man in The Elixir of Love has nothing but some cheap red plonk to fuel his
passion, sold to him by the con artist, Doctor Dulcamara, played with perfect
cheek by Bryn Terfel. As this is a comic
opera, however, melodramma giocoso, Nemorino’s bottle-fuelled optimism and tipsy,
tenor charms win over the fickle Adina (sung sweetly by Lucy Crowe), suggesting
there’s much to be said for an innocent placebo for a hero lacking confidence.
Be that as it may, in this particular case, the Royal Opera
House audience was so in love with Vittorio Grigolo’s beguiling and heart-struck
Nemorino... so completely under
Donizetti’s spell... so happily convinced by Laurent Pelly’s direction... that by
the time Nemorino sings Una furtiva
lagrima there would have been a riot if Adina hadn’t succumbed to his irresistible
advances. Indeed the outpouring of
breath which followed the fading last notes of Grigolo’s famous solo was not
just the enthusiastic shouts of bravo, the
vigorous clapping and cheering, but a collective sigh of emotional and musical
satisfaction as powerful as anything I’ve experienced in the theatre.
I grew up hearing my father sing Una furtiva lagrima - at any time of the day or night his humming of
this delectable melody wafted up the corridor in my direction, making me feel
all was right with the world. I declare
my bias. Yet the theatrical tension, deeply
infused affection, vocal control and playful stretch of the phrase which
characterises the perfectly poised voice of Vittorio Grigolo as he explores every
nuance of this exquisite aria is nothing less than profound. I feel the electricity still. It was cathartic, stimulating, moving and deeply
enriching. And if I could get another
ticket - to be there as Grigolo recreates this magical moment - I would.
Of course around this moment, around many scenes and
sequences which worked in this excellent production, are ingredients of
musicality, vocality, setting, design, direction, interpretation, acting, chorus,
costume, lighting and imagination... too many and complex to list like a recipe. But in that one aria, as you close your eyes
and are transported to a place unutterably beautiful, there is only Donizetti’s
uplifting alignment of notes - and no matter how many times since 1832 tenor and
orchestra have breathed life into those notes, the acoustic purity and blend of
instruments I heard last Thursday night in Covent Garden under the baton of
another Italian talent, Daniele Rustioni, was as remarkable and unique an
elixir of love as I can imagine.
Vittorio Grigolo, ti
amo. Sigh. Bravo. Sigh.
...................................
The potion which is The
Scottsboro Boys is quite different.
It starts with light-hearted humour, a skip, a smirk, a
wink and a giggle. The direction and choreography
is so polished and magnetic, I wondered if it was Susan Stroman even before I got
my hands on a programme. (It is!) And I was enjoying the energy and movement,
the vaudevillian escapism, the ‘minstrel show’ innocence and silly gags (done
in reverse with black actor/dancers playing white characters), that I was unprepared
for the challenge which followed.
The
Scottsboro Boys is based on the true and tragic story of
nine black youths who were falsely accused of rape in Alabama in 1931, convicted
and kept on death-row for year after year, decade after decade, denied justice
and liberty even though one of the alleged victims confessed to the lie and
there was no evidence to substantiate the charge. Such were the discriminatory laws and
entrenched bigotry of the time, that it was easier for southern Americans to
believe the ‘white’ lie, to victimize and destroy the lives of nine innocent
young men, than it was for society to face the glaringly obvious truth or challenge
an acutely racist and unjust ‘justice’ system.
As this musical unfolds, in the comic style and figurative
turn of a traditional minstrel show, it was for me the acting, dancing and
staging ingredients that were the most memorable. I particularly admired the cast’s manipulation
of the nine chairs – originally set in a semicircle as was common for the genre
– reconfiguring them in clever ways to create trains, court-room scenes,
holding cells and every necessary emotional and dramatic setting. The cast were excellent, performers of great
breadth, and it didn’t escape my attention that a vehicle such as this for
their talent was probably a long time coming.
(Ok, there was a bias toward men but I think we can put
that aside for the moment; for it’s not as if it’s any different in lots of
plays, going back to Shakespeare!)
I found the songs enjoyable but this score, for me, does
not have the gravitas or melodic impact of Kander and Ebb’s better known Cabaret and Chicago scores. Nevertheless
it works, it supports the characters on their journey, and it serves a strong
book and powerfully clever choreography and staging which skips the audience
into a frenzy of folly until we find ourselves staring in the face of such
immense legal lunacy that there is no escape from its unaccountable cruelty.
Kander and Ebb, Susan Stroman and David Thompson (the
writer) don’t set this moral tale as per Brecht or Ibsen, as a serious lesson
which must be heeded. Rather, they charm
and beguile you, entertain and flirt, with routines and physically engaging manoeuvres
of set, time and place, so that, even as these happy young fellows squander in
prison, you like them so very much – are endeared by their talent and
versatility - you can’t possibly imagine anything but a happy ending: a musical
minstrel ending.
So when the awful reality hits you – their appeals fail,
these miserable boys rot behind bars as media interest wanes, and the rest of
America goes back to doing whatever it has to do to forget how bad it is down
there in the south – you are left with a feeling in your stomach as heavy as
the elixir of love in Donizetti’s opera made you light. The music stops. The dancing is over. No jokes, no tale can be spun around a bleak
and frightening ending. The mood, the
soul of America is black - and the dark, innocent faces of the nine youths
stand as a brutal reminder of how arbitrary life’s gifts and chances are for
those unlucky enough to be born into a persecuted minority or class.
And the most frightening thing about the silent curtain
call... the failure of fun in ‘the minstrel show’, guilty of prolonging stereotypes
and never as pure as first believed... was that it was 2013 before all the
Scottsboro Boys were officially pardoned.
And people continue to rot in prison for crimes they didn’t commit.
Were these theatrical ingredients magical? If you mean that a state, a phenomenon, can
change from A to B without logical explanation, then yes. If you mean did the drama – the comedy and
then the tragedy – take me where it was intended, thrill then break my heart,
then yes again. Una furtiva
lagrima...
I agree with the Evening Standard who awarded The Scottsboro Boys the 2014 ‘Ned
Sherrin Award for Best Musical’. Ingredients
which push the boundaries on musical theatre as an art form are just the potion
the West End needs.
Bravo!
RECOMMENDATIONS:
http://www.roh.org.uk/productions/lelisir-damore-by-laurent-pelly
http://www.youngvic.org/whats-on/the-scottsboro-boys
http://www.amnesty.org.uk/
