Studio 2, Arcola Theatre
Robert Shaw (director)
Gillian Argo (designs)Tom White (lighting)
What an evening for Hai-Ting
Chinn, taking the starring and indeed only role not only in Peter Maxwell
Davies’s The Medium but also in Tarik
O’Regan’s The Wanton Sublime, here
receiving its first European performances! She must have been on stage for not
far short of an hour and a half, singing for most of that time. I was a little
surprised to hear her described as a mezzo; to my ears, she sounded much more
of a soprano. What was not in doubt, however, was her accomplishment as a
singing actress; nor, indeed, her accomplishment as a vocalist, not least in
the unaccompanied Medium, written for
Jane Manning. Called upon to alternate between Sprechgesang, rapid coloratura, hymn singing, and much else
besides, Chinn managed both to remain in control and to convey meaning. A more ‘conventionally’
sung part in O’Regan’s work nevertheless offered plenty of opportunity for
development, within its relatively short duration; much was made, capitalising
upon Gillian Argo’s necessarily spare yet telling designs, of the conflict
between different aspects of Mary’s – yes, the Virgin’s: ‘I am a virgin’ –
character.
Davies’s work, if perhaps a
little over-extended, presents a welcome continuation, albeit from a female
standpoint, of some of the preoccupations of the slightly earlier The Lighthouse. Theology, religious fanaticism,
fraudulent representation and self-representation, even some of the downright
insanity of the composer’s earlier work: they co-exist, conflict, even fuse in
a largely compelling three-quarters of an hour. The voices in the medium’s head
whose urgings she feels compelled to act out, almost to give birth to, offer an
intriguing ‘period’ lace introduction to the contemporary – New York, I presume
– reimagining of Mary as Virgin in an equally uncomprehending world of The Wanton Sublime. Undressing and
re-dressing (in what, before its obliteration before over-use and misuse, one
might once have called ‘iconic’ blue), more of a sexual being than she is generally
given credit for, this Mary has much to intrigue, although Anna Rabinowitz’s
libretto perhaps tries a little too hard to be ‘streetwise’. O’Regan’s score,
expertly played by the Orpheus Sinfonia (violin, viola, cello, double bass,
flute/piccolo, acoustic guitar, electric guitar, two on percussion) under
Andrew Griffiths, progresses alternately by angular, but not too angular,
action passages and frozen, more melismatic passages of reflection. There is thus
perhaps something filmic to what we hear as well as to what we see. Recorded
voices – Mary’s own – surface too: largely confirming, but perhaps also
questioning. Much to ponder, then, from a fascinating evening at the Grimeborn
Festival.
