This one go FIZZ ... Opera della Luna, La Belle Helene

[tamaranth]

"My lord Paris! Alone -- with my wife -- in a rubber skirt!" -- Menelaus, king of Sparta

Off to the Bridewell Theatre yesterday with ladymoonray, swisstone and my friend Maggy to see Opera della Luna's 'hilarious, scandalous' production of Offenbach's opera La Belle Helene. Words like 'hilarious' tend to fill me with foreboding, but in this case it was quite apt.

Opera della Luna have seven singers, so they had to do some fast talking to get through some of the ensemble pieces (the Kings of Greece were reduced to two). The setting was simple, and involved bouquets of roses and some charming rose-pink fairy lights. Victoria Byron (Helene) sported blonde dreadlocks, elbow-length red satin gloves, a corset, and a red devore Thing which left little to the imagination. Louise Crane, as Orestes, was suitably androgynous in spiky hair and a collar (and some clothes, I hasten to add). Andy Morton, Paris, showed up in a rubber kilt, carrying a sheep-shaped backpack to indicate shepherdly origins. His pigeon showed up slightly later, flying backwards on the end of a fishing-rod, to deliver the letter from Venus that proved his origins and credentials.

Let me backtrack slightly. The opera is set well before the Trojan War: in fact, it deals with the abduction of Helen (later 'of Troy') by Paris. Paris has been promised the love of the most beautiful woman in the world by the Goddess Venus, as a reward for voting her the Most Beautiful (see The Judgement of Paris). Helen, married to Menelaus, is not entirely sure that she wants to be awarded to Paris, but with wit and cunning he manages to convince her and carries her off, thus precipitating the Trojan War.

So far, so Homeric. Then Offenbach came along and made it into a comedy, complete with a riddle about a locomotive, a postal service based on doves, faked Divine Pronouncements, some ribald jokes and a truly evil set of fanfares.

So when Maggy asked me at the interval whether this bore any resemblance at all to the original Offenbach, I was able to say "yes". The music is utterly frivolous (Gilbert and Sullivan admired Offenbach) and the lyrics even more so -- Offenbach's original 'homme à la pomme' was rendered as 'the chappie with the apple', to great effect.

The first act was indeed hilarious. The second act was inspired.

Opera della Luna turned Offenbach's game of Goose (in which Calchas, likeably cynical priest of Jupiter, cheats and is found out) into 'Who Wants to be a Millionaire' (complete with coughing fits from the leader of the minimal orchestra). Helen and Paris' erotic duet -- 'Oui, c'est une reve', translated freely as 'since we're only dreaming' -- was .. scandalous. Helen ended up flat on her back, in corset and stockings, bare-breasted, and pinned down by Paris in his rubber kilt -- and she could still sing perfectly well. (She's a natural for the ENO's early music productions).

Menelaus' impotent indignation, discovering Paris 'bouncing up and down' on his wife, was played to splendid effect by the ever-resplendent Simon Butteriss, who I last saw in Music Theatre London's production of Die Fledermaus: then, he was wearing a nurse's uniform and suspenders. In this production, he revealed Menelaus' little-known penchant for scuba-diving. (The flippers and the crown made an especially comic combination, especially during the nicely-choreographed ensemble pieces.)

Meanwhile, Orestes, Calchas and Bacchis (Helen's handmaid, the stunningly pretty Pamela Hay) had endeared themselves forever to our part of the audience by giving us real fizz (sadly, not pink) to toast 'Venus, Bacchus and Champagne'. Bacchis also handed out Viagra -- to counteract the curse of Venus, who is miffed at her plans being spoilt and has inflamed all the wives with lust. (I did grab some Viagra, if anyone is interested, though it looks suspiciously like Smarties to me).

And eventually, after another faked 'divine pronouncement', the Augur of Venus turned up in leather and Greek warrior helmet, on a motorbike, to take Helen off for some hot sex ritual sacrifices to placate the goddess. Helen gives in to her fate -- the Augur is revealed to be Paris in disguise -- and everyone lives unhappily ever after (see The Iliad for details).

Everyone could sing pretty well -- Helen was outstanding, though Paris had problems (like Roberto Alagna) with the high notes in 'Au mont Ida' -- and the ensemble pieces worked very nicely: it's a good mix of tones. The corsets and gauze and high heels worked nicely too, and didn't detract from the opera itself. (Paris, who could have done with a corset and was the only singer not to get one, made up for a lot with his brooding charm and pretty scowl). Very highly recommended, though it's only on until Saturday -- but last night's performance was, criminally, not sold out.

They're doing the Mikado in Greenwich in October. I'm not a huge G&S fan, but I'm tempted, just for the sheer fun of it ...

Music Theatre London had better watch out, is all I can say. Opera della Luna are serious competition.

Comments

[jhaelan.livejournal.com]

It sounds astounding; may have to juggle things and go (not go juggling though, which would obviously be entirely inappropriate unless I was appropriately attired)

[marypcb.livejournal.com]

if you go to the Mikado, count me in - I love G&S and it sounds as if they'd do a cracking job