European Culture in Lockdown - As Seen From a Sofa

J. SPENCE

Highlights of European Theatre

The closure of theatres as a result of the coronavirus pandemic has had a huge impact on the arts sector, and has made many of us realise just how much we cherish the opportunity to experience live performance, surrounded by others who are equally captivated by the action on stage. Theatre has always been very much a collective experience, and as lockdowns were imposed across Europe earlier this year, and it became clear that it would be impossible to experience theatre together for quite some time, venues worked tirelessly to continue broadcasting quality drama, dance and music to the masses. Although something of the charm of live theatre is undoubtedly lost in it being filmed, the release of these performances captured on video has certainly helped to bring the joy of theatre to theatre-addicts and also to newcomers. I for one could never have guessed that I would be able to dart from The Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, to the Bolshoi Theatre, Moscow, to the Opéra Bastille, Paris, all in the space of a weekend under lockdown! Theatre should be accessible to all, and the effort of theatres across Europe and beyond, to

get theatre to the masses in recent months, despite the hugely difficult situation they face with no box office income, is worthy of enormous praise. Here are just a few of the virtual theatrical experiences I’ve most enjoyed from my sitting room…

Drama

The ‘National Theatre At Home’ scheme has seen a new play from the National Theatre Live archive, released every Thursday evening to watch on YouTube, and it was through this scheme that I was able to watch Alan Bennett’s The Madness of King George III. The play traces the rapid deterioration of the king’s mental state as he grapples to keep up the illusion of being a capable ruler, and is treated (to varying degrees of success) by three doctors, each with their own diagnosis and cures. Whilst the king (excellently played by Mark Gatiss) has recovered from his illness by the end of the play, we are left with a poignant image of the fine line between a king and a man – beneath all the regal splendour, Bennett reveals a man just as human as any of us, and one just as susceptible to being thrown off balance by change, illness and the pressures of the outside world. The play which stood out the most for me, from the Comédie Française’s offering, was Christian Hecq and Valerie Lesort’s adaptation for the stage of Jules Verne’s novel, Vingt Mille Lieues sous les mers. This tale of life deep beneath the sea aboard a submarine, with a very eccentric captain, was brought to life by the use of some very expressive puppets which, to often hilarious effect, embodied the diverse sea-life

visible through the porthole of the submarine. In fact, as soon as an actor left the stage, he went around behind the backdrop and became a puppeteer. It goes to show just how much can be conveyed to an audience without the use of language, and thus how easy it is to appreciate and enjoy a piece of theatre in a foreign language, even if you don’t understand every single word which is said!

Dance

It was a real treat to watch Spartacus as part of the Bolshoi Theatre’s streaming programme. This ballet premiered in 1956, and was thereafter rarely performed outside the Soviet Union; it follows the story of Spartacus, the leader of a slave uprising against their Roman oppressors in the first century BC (cue some very impressive solos for Spartacus, with his hands bound in handcuffs, or even with a dagger in each hand). Set to Khachaturian’s sweeping score, which balances the infectious energy of rebellion with some more tender moments like the Adagio of Spartacus and Phrygia (you’ll definitely have heard it somewhere before!), there seemed to be something very fitting about watching this ballet being performed in the country in which it was born. Indeed, there are those who argue that the story of the rebellion in the ballet is an allegory for an uprising of the Russian people against their own Soviet oppressors – but however deeply you choose to read into it, the ballet remains a masterpiece, and an excellent exposition of the incredible technical skill and flair of the dancers performing it.

I enjoyed watching a ballet which I was new to, from the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden – Kenneth MacMillan’s Mayerling. The 1974 ballet centres around the 1889 Mayerling incident, in which Rudolf, the Crown Prince of Austria, was found dead along with his lover Baroness Mary Vetsera, at his hunting lodge in the village of Mayerling, in Austria. The events leading up to this apparent murdersuicide, are explored through the ballet as we see Rudolf becoming increasingly agitated, depressed and unloved at court – it is when he meets and falls in love with Mary Vetsera, who shares his fascination with death, that Rudolf really comes alive. They make a suicide pact and the wheels are set in motion to drive the ballet to its dramatic end. MacMillan was a strong believer that ballet should be used to mirror and explore human emotion in its rawest form – far from the fairy-tale worlds of Sleeping Beauty and The Nutcracker. Such gripping drama was excellently created by Steven McRae and Sarah Lamb in the lead roles, neither of them appearing at all to tire in their journey together towards a tragic end, despite their hugely emotionally and physically demanding roles.

Music

Whilst BBC Radio 3 has been unable to broadcast its usual live concerts from around the UK each evening, the station has been delving into its archives to put together its own unique concerts. One such performance which stood out for me, presented as part of the ‘World Environment Day

Concert’, was An Alpine Symphony by Richard Strauss, recorded live by the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra and conducted by Mariss Jansons. This tone poem tells the story of the ascent of an alpine summit, from the calm beginnings at sunrise, through

pasture (complete with cow bells), into the thicket, where the walker becomes lost for a time, and across a glacier to the summit. No sooner has the climax been reached however, that a storm starts brewing, and the walker must descend in a hurry as the wind howls and the rain beats down around him; as he reaches safety at the bottom of the mountain, the storm calms and the piece ends as the sun sets. Strauss wrote for an orchestra of huge proportions – the onstage brass number eighteen, with a further sixteen offstage in the wings, who play for only a few minutes within the whole piece to imitate the sound of a hunt in the distance, whilst the percussion section includes both a wind and a thunder machine. The sheer expense of gathering such a large orchestra is undoubtedly justified by the vast soundworld created when this piece is played well, though – in this recording, we are swept seamlessly from the precarious moments on the ascent to the euphoric arrival at the summit, and from the tumult of the storm into the peace of the night. Press play, close your

eyes, and you’ll be taken on this incredible journey. Finally, one of my biggest cultural highlights of lockdown was watching Il barbiere di Siviglia from the Paris Opéra Bastille. This farcical love story sees the Count Almaviva try to gain access to Rosina’s (his lover’s) house, against the wishes of Rosina’s overprotective guardian, Bartolo. In order to do so, he enlists the help of Figaro, (the barber of Seville) and the Count, in a range of disguises, attempts to see Rosina. The rotating set of this production was a feast for the eyes, and really brought Seville into the theatre as we saw the intricate plot unfold. There were points when I just sat back and thought how absurd this all was – opera singers singing in Italian, pretending to be Spaniards, and subtitled in French! But then again, I suppose that’s opera for you…