Review: Orpheus in the Underworld @ Young Vic
by Editor
Well, here’s a production to defenestrate the very little you thought you knew about opera. There’s no baffling Italian and definitely no Valkyries in this English adaptation of Offenbach’s Orpheus in the Underworld, gleefully and smuttily done by Rory Bremner (yes, he of Bird and Fortune/ TV impressionist fame). Instead, we’re offered industrial-strength swearing and lots and lots of sex.
The show – a joint venture between Scottish Opera and Northern Ireland Opera – is Offenbach’s 19th-century operetta, based on the myths of Orpheus and his wife Eurydice, transposed into a modern day scene of sleazy celebs, grubby bankers and grasping politicians, all set against a backdrop of screaming tabloid headlines.
We start with a clatter and the clack of sensible-heeled court shoes as our narrator of sorts, Public Opinion (Maire Flavin), bumbles from the back of theatre, and back out again, trying to find the stage. From the moment she finally appears front and centre to set out her position as the self-appointed guardian of public morality – standing firm in news-print skirt-suit (the words ‘Hate’ ‘Ban’ ‘Sick’ and ‘Filth’ picked out prominently) Maggie Thatcher handbag in the crook of her arm – it’s clear we’re in sly satirical hands.
The curtain – a blown up OK magazine-style cover showing a celeb ‘dream wedding’– opens on a Botoxed, fake-taloned ‘It’ girl tottering and pouting in pink Lycra and platform heels. This is our estuarine Eurydice (Jane Harrington, giving good Essex swagger), she is married to composer Orpheus (Nicholas Sharratt), a hopeless prig in a Nehru collar. They loathe each other and when their extra-marital affairs collide, it sets up a string of events that will lead us to the underworld, via the Gods at Olympus (re-imagined as a Westminster champagne bar) and back.
Bremner’s re-worked libretto is an heroic piece of thoroughly modern silliness; surprising, rude, witty and laugh-out-loud funny. Phone hacking, strikes, Berlusconi, Strictly Come Dancing, X Factor, Jeremy Kyle – it’s all here and duly lampooned. Neat visual gags strike just the right note of kitschy knowingness; from ‘Bacchus I’m worth it’ embroidered on the seat of Eurydice’s red satin panties to the ‘News of the (Under) World’ backdrop in Act II.
The English-language translation, a no-holds-barred commitment to bawdiness (gird your loins for Jupiter in bondage leather and a fly’s wings seducing Eurydice) and a frenetic pace make Offenbach’s original music commendably accessible.
And none of this is to the detriment of the vocal performances either. The singing is uniformly powerful and pure, with playful twists in the delivery keeping trickier musical moments fresh. The choreography is tighter than Eurydice’s bandage dress and the attention to detail, slick ensemble work and physical comedy more than make up for the fairly simple staging.
It is, admittedly, about as deep as a teaspoon of champagne, but that’s hardly the point. A riotous carnival of modern grotesque such as it is, it succeeds in breaking down ideas of what is high art and what is not. The small stage crackles with energy and I came away giddy and grinning from ear to ear.
A version of this review was originally published by playstosee.com
