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              SEEN 
              AND HEARD OPERA REVIEW
               
              
              Birtwistle, 
              Punch and Judy: 
              Soloists, 
              Music Theatre 
              Wales. 
              Conductor: Michael Rafferty. Linbury Studio, Royal Opera House. 
              17.3.2008 (MB)
              
              Punch – Gwion Thomas
              Choregos/Jack Ketch – Jeremy Huw Williams
              Pretty Polly/Witch – Allison Bell
              Doctor – Nicholas Folwell
              Lawyer – Peter Hoare
              Judy/Fortune Teller – Carol Rowlands
              
              Michael McCarthy (director)
              Simon Banham (designs)
              Ace McCarron (lighting)
              Music Theatre Wales, Michael Rafferty 
              (conductor)
              
              
              Birtwistle season is upon us in London. Last week, the Nash 
              Ensemble and Andrew Watts pieces from his 
              
              Orpheus Elegies at the Wigmore Hall, and next month will 
              see the world premiere of The Minotaur at Covent Garden and 
              the English National Opera’s Punch and Judy. The Royal 
              Opera House pre-empted ENO, by inviting Music Theatre Wales to 
              revive its production of Punch and Judy in the Linbury 
              Studio, as part of the ROH2 programme. Whilst two productions of 
              Birtwistle’s tragicomedy might seem excessive to some, the 
              prospect of comparison is for many of us enticing indeed, and I 
              shall report back in due course from ENO’s residency at the Young 
              Vic.
              
              
              Punch and Judy 
              was first performed forty years ago at Aldeburgh. Imagine the 
              reaction! Britten, it seems, was none too pleased; accounts 
              differ, but he is said to have walked out. We approach the work 
              from a different standpoint, of course, and it is impossible for 
              many of us not to consider Birtwistle’s subsequent œuvre in the 
              light of this early cause célèbre. The preoccupation with 
              ritual tellings and retellings, enactments and re-enactments, of 
              myth has been a running thread throughout his career, and not only 
              in terms of the stage. Punch and Judy remains, however, a 
              violent, even shocking piece of music theatre, crucial for anyone 
              for whom musical drama is a living art form rather than a platform 
              for x and y to sing in the nth revival of 
              Tosca.
              
              Birtwistle directs that a five-piece wind ensemble should be 
              placed on stage. Here, the entire fifteen-strong orchestra was 
              placed immediately behind the puppet booth, which framed most of 
              the action. Simon Banham’s designs and Michael McCarthy’s 
              production were generally straightforward and all the more 
              powerful for that. This is not, I think, a work that really 
              partakes of ambiguity, at least not in that sense. Colours, 
              costumes, and movement all complemented the ritual of Birtwistle’s 
              music and Stephen Pruslin’s fine libretto. The latter is surely 
              one of the great opera texts; it could hardly have been 
              more consonant with the composer’s own interest in both the 
              mechanics of musical theatre and in verse-refrain forms, the 
              latter of which dates back to the 1959 wind quintet, Refrains 
              and Choruses. Cycles, repetitions, symmetries are mirrored in 
              the music – and were here attentively presented in the production 
              too. There was no attempt to shy away from Punch’s violence, for 
              instance in his murder of the baby with a syringe and his knifing 
              of Judy, but never did one have the impression of sensationalism. 
              (David McVicar would have profited from taking note in his recent
              
              
              Salome.) This was real 
              violence, in a sense all the more real for its ritual artifice. 
              The immediacy of the Linbury’s space measurably heightened the 
              dramatic tension.
              
              The singing was mixed. None of it was bad, but I did not find 
              Peter Hoare’s Lawyer and Nicholas Folwell’s Doctor as impressive 
              as the rest of the cast. Their interpretations seemed a little 
              generalised and they sometimes had difficulty making themselves 
              heard above the small but loud orchestra. It is difficult, perhaps 
              impossible, to warm to Pretty Polly, but Allison Bell brought a 
              marvellous technique to the role, which needs just that to fulfil 
              its sometimes stratospheric demands. Carol Rowlands proved a 
              powerful musical actress as Judy. Gwion Thomas might have strayed 
              a little close to undue caricature at times – although this must 
              largely be a matter of taste – but he vividly inhabited the 
              central role of Punch. Perhaps finest was Jeremy Huw Williams as 
              Choregos, the Puppet Master. After an ever so slightly unsure 
              start, his was a scintillating performance, both musically and 
              visually, alert to the demands of the text and highly successful 
              at projecting them. The ensemble pieces all worked very well: 
              slower numbers, such as the Passion chorales, penetrated to the 
              heart of the strange lyricism that is just as much Birtwistle’s 
              hallmark as the violence. In this, the cast was greatly aided by 
              the orchestra of Music Theatre Wales and by Michael Rafferty’s 
              authoritative conducting. Totally secure in rhythm and orchestral 
              balance, whilst still sounding newly minted, the transformations 
              from freneticism to haunting, almost antique beauty were 
              faultlessly conveyed. The drama lies just as much here as on stage 
              proper, and no one could have been in any doubt as to that.
              
              
              Mark Berry
              
                          
                          
                                                                                                    
                                    
			
	
	
              
              
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