Stephen McNeff, Banished, Trinity Laban, 30 June 2016

Blackheath Halls

Sarah – Rebekah Smith

Pitty – Lucy Bray
Winnie – Kate Huntley
Nance – Susanna Buckle
Charlotte – Rebecca Leggett
Madge – Emily Gray
Captain – Laurence Panter
Surgeon – Caspar Lloyd James
Sarge – Tom McKenna
Tommy – Lars Fischer

Elaine Kidd (director)

Louise Whitemore (designs)
Ben Ormerod (lighting)

Vocal Ensemble

Orchestra of Trinity Laban Conservatoire of Music and Dance

Jessica Cottis (conductor)



Images: Lidia Crisafulli

 

Much of the best opera in London takes place at our conservatoires. Their end-of-term shows often put starrier venues to shame, whether in ‘standard’ or more unusual repertoire. Trinity Laban has here, quite rightly, offered students the opportunity to participate in an entirely new work. I was unable to attend the world premiere, but instead went to the second night, and found committed, convincing performances from all concerned – just as I always do.

Stephen McNeff’s Banished, an adaptation of Steve Gooch’s play, Female Transport, to a libretto by Olivia Fuchs, tells the story of women who, in the words of Trinity Laban’s Linda Hirst, ‘are all individuals with strong and earthy characters,’ during their transportation to Australia. ‘They live on the ship (together with the four men: Captain, Sarge, Surgeon and Tommy) for months, through the ups and downs of the sea. They don’t all die as in other operas for women, and they retain a basic sexuality and a sharp sense of humour.’ If some of those claims are somewhat exaggerated, the opportunity, in McNeff’s own words, to take part in an opera with ‘challenging roles available for young women (indeed for all young women)’ is a real one and heartily to be commended. It is certainly not the case that the male characters get a raw deal, but the story is ultimately that of the women we encounter, and rightly so.

 

The opera does its job, even if, especially without surtitles, it is not always possible to hear the vocal lines – and thus properly to disentangle the stories. Perhaps there are too many stories being told, but if so, that is a fault on the right side, and the variety of experience is clearly part of the point. What I missed in the work itself was a sense of distancing or of questioning; dramaturgically, it comes across as not so very different from a telescoped version of a somewhat old-fashioned television series, or a musical. But perhaps that is my problem. On the other hand, some of the characters are strongly drawn – certainly not something to be taken for granted. The romantic relationship between the ship’s newest recruit, Tommy, and Sarah is plausible in its development, without overshadowing the other stories, and without sentimentalising. Tensions between crew and captives, and within those groups, are skilfully explored. McNeff’s score offers a good sense of atmosphere, with stronger and weaker allusions to the period of transportation, whilst remaining itself. The organisation into fifteen short scenes works well, and different scenes often tend towards display of their own musical characters. Crucially, for a project such as this, vocal parts are both singable and challenging.

 

It is the performances, splendidly directed by Elaine Kidd (costumes, make-up, and lighting deserve particular mention here) and conducted by Jessica Cottis, which deserve our loudest cheer. Whether amongst the ‘soloists’ or the twelve-strong additional female vocal ensemble, there was nothing to which anyone might reasonably object, and much to praise. (I was delighted to see a couple of my former students from Royal Holloway, Charlotte Levesley and Charlotte Osborn, in the ensemble, and sad to have missed out on another, Hilary Cronin, who was to sing the role of Nance in a later performance. Performances that particularly struck me came from Rebekah Smith and Lars Fischer (as the aforementioned pair), Rebecca Leggett, and Lucy Bray, but there were no weak links, and a fine sense of company amongst all. Similarly, the orchestra seemed to me on excellent form, rhythmically alert, with a fine sense not only of balance but forward propulsion imparted by Cottis.

 

Trinity Laban SO/Jackson - Elgar, 6 May 2016

Great Hall, Blackheath Halls

Elgar - Symphony no.1 in A-flat major, op.55

Trinity Laban Symphony Orchestra with members of Welsh National Opera Orchestra

George Jackson (conductor)

Members of the WNO Orchestra have been joining young players at the Royal Welsh College of Drama, Birmingham Conservatoire, and Trinity Laban Conservatoire of Music and Dance, for ‘side-by-side’ mentoring, rehearsals, and performances. In a welcome note to the programme, Trinity Laban’s Head of Orchestral Studies explained: ‘Not only then, are the students encouraged and trained to play to the highest professional level, but they also experience the focus and discipline required to prepare a performance in limited rehearsal time – again a crucial discipline for the aspiring professional orchestral musician.’ The results, under Trinity Laban’s Sir Charles Mackerras Fellow in Conducting, George Jackson, were impressive indeed. Impressive and moving.

 

The excellent Blackheath acoustic helped to bring out both the warmth and immediacy in the orchestral playing. If the lamps were going out all over Europe at the opening of the first movement, there was strength too. The transition to the second group and the character of its material were smoothly, dramatically handled. Disintegrative tendencies – particularly in the brass earlier on, but later also in some beautifully dissolving string lines – were present but not exaggerated. Jackson imparted a strong sense of line throughout; there was no doubt that he knew where the music was heading, nor of his ability to communicate that to his players and to the audience. The timpanist’s underpinning of the dramatic trajectory often proved especially telling.

 

The scherzo was just as alert dramatically – drama, an idea to which I kept returning – as it was rhythmically. (There is no real distinction, of course.) Darkness was of a kind familiar from Elgar’s own no-nonsense approach to the score. The trio, tonally distant, sounded outwardly different, at least to begin with, but underlying unease remained, indeed mounted. The slow movement was in that respect not dissimilar, albeit with the ordering, as it were, reversed. There was a songful quality to this Adagio: certainly not on the slow side, but nor was it ever harried. Occasional passages of thinner string sound were to be heard, but such a cavil – almost my only one – should not be taken too seriously, for there were many more passages of noble passion.

The Lento opening to the finale was unmistakeable in its sense of darkness, even malevolence, such as at least to match what had gone before. ‘What had gone before’ was of course to be heard in thematic reminiscence, arguably more than mere ‘reminiscence’. Elgar’s practice here inevitably brought to mind some of his greatest symphonic predecessors, not least Beethoven in the Ninth Symphony, albeit with the crucial caveat of there being no vocal entry, with all that that entails (or does not). There is much more to the movement than that, of course, but there was a heavy load to be borne. Elgar offers no fixed boundary here between past and present; nor did the performance, whose flexibility, even protean quality, greatly enhanced its capacity to move. The final peroration, if one can call it that, was as equivocal as many of its Mahlerian counterparts.