Latest news with #YaronLifschitz
Telegraph
a day ago
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
Gluck's famous opera with acrobats? It's surprisingly bloodless
A female aerial artist wearing a striking red dress tumbles down from the ceiling on a rope, symbolising the descent of the ill-fated Eurydice into the underworld. This is how Yaron Lifschitz's modern staging of Gluck's popular 1762 opera Orpheus and Eurydice begins. The show's concept, combining opera with circus, is an intriguing one, but this production from Opera Queensland – with acrobats from the Brisbane-based Circa company – feels misconceived and oddly clinical. The subterranean afterlife into which Eurydice has fallen – having been killed by a snakebite – is visualised by Lifschitz (who also designs) as a place of almost antiseptic, white minimalism. When we meet her bereft lover Orpheus – who follows her into the underworld in an attempt to persuade Hades, king of the dead, to restore his beloved to life – he is seemingly in an asylum, resting on a white table-cum-bed. It looks like something Jasper Conran might have designed for a rehab centre for Hollywood A-listers. As the fine British countertenor Iestyn Davies (playing Orpheus in a white shirt and black business suit) begins to sing of his anguish, his words appear and evaporate in smoke on the wall behind him. It isn't long before Eurydice (sung beautifully by Australian/British soprano Samantha Clarke) is appearing inside a small greenhouse (which, one assumes, is supposed to be a symbol of confinement). As the opera unfolds, Gluck's splendid late-Baroque score and Ranieri de' Calzabigi's libretto are accompanied by a small army of gymnastic artists from Brisbane company Circa. When the chorus of Scottish Opera arrive they are clad in black boiler suits. The difficulty with all of this – from the circus performance to the modish graphics and consciously fashionable design – is that it fails to make the necessary emotional connection either with Gluck's opera or the ancient myth upon which it is based. The greenhouse, in particular, reminds one of the period in the 1990s and early-2000s when every other trendy live art show – usually by students or graduates of Dartington College of Arts – seemed to feature a small glasshouse. The great frustration of the production, which premiered in Brisbane in 2019, is that the tremendous capacities of the performers – from the lead singers, the chorus and the excellent Scottish Chamber Orchestra (under the baton of Laurence Cummings) to the circus artists – are never in doubt. However, as Circa's performers slide on silks in mid-air or turn themselves into a human staircase for Orpheus to climb, the music seems almost to be at the service of the circus work, much as Ravel's Bolero served the British ice skaters Torvill and Dean in the 1980s. When, at the end, Davies's Orpheus writes the words 'The triumph of love' in blood on the wall, it seems like a moment of self-parody, so anodyne and bloodless is Lifschitz's production. Truth to tell, the piece was cheered to the rafters by sections of the audience. Had we been in Vienna in 1913 (the year of Schoenberg's famous 'scandal concert'), I suspect booing might have ensued from those who were unimpressed. Alas, Edinburgh International Festival audiences are not given to such expressions of discontent. Until Aug 16;
The Guardian
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Orpheus and Eurydice review – acrobatic Gluck is haunting, dizzying and gasp-inducing
Following on from their enthralling Southbank Centre Daphnis et Chloé earlier this year, Orpheus and Eurydice offers a second chance to experience the work of Brisbane-based Circa under the director, choreographer and set designer Yaron Lifschitz. With its streamlined dramatic structure and built-in ballets, Gluck's great reformation opera proves fertile ground for the company's agile blend of acrobatics and contemporary dance. The action opens with the dying Eurydice tumbling through space. So extreme is Orpheus's grief, it seems, that he has wound up in an asylum, strapped to one of a series of hospital beds that, along with a tiny glass house, make up Lifschitz's minimalist set. The acrobats swirl over and under him – every man an Orpheus, every woman a Eurydice – recalling the emotional volatility of their relationship and Orpheus's feverish hopes and fears for their future. Throughout this stark yet reasoned production we are never entirely sure what is real and what exists merely in the protagonist's head. Are the sombre chorus members disembodied hospital orderlies or fellow inmates? The final scene suggests the latter, but the director keeps us guessing. Lifschitz is a master of the striking image: a human tower that collapses to audible gasps; a staircase of bodies that one of the Orpheus figures must ascend. Only the occasional wobble reminds us of the extreme athletic demands. Suspended loops enable acrobats to float and fly while hinting at hangmen's nooses or restraints. White institutional walls are deftly lit by Alex Berlage in vivid crimsons, greens and minty blues. Libby McDonnell's black, white and red costumes are simplicity itself; Boris Bagattini's sparing video projections include occasional closeups on a troubled face and surtitles that cleverly dissolve in trails of mist. Gluck's three-hander opera is condensed here by combining the roles of Eurydice and Amor, as if Orpheus has lost the power to differentiate between the two. Iestyn Davies is outstanding as the bereaved husband, his tireless countertenor rich and even, with memorably light and lyrical top notes. Physically he holds little back, at one point balancing on the shoulders of a cluster of acrobats. The climax, an affecting account of Che Farò Senza Eurydice, finds him abandoned on a bare stage, arms wrapped around his body as if in a straitjacket. Samantha Clarke's soprano rings out bright and frisky as Amor before turning lush and sorrowful as Eurydice. Laurence Cummings leads the Scottish Chamber Orchestra through a bracing, finely judged account of the score, the Scottish Opera Chorus matches his intensity, singing with power and discipline. Their unnerving final appearance as the bloodied Orpheus is strung up by the heels in his own private Bedlam is one of the production's most haunting images. At Edinburgh Playhouse until 16 August
The Guardian
5 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Circa: Wolf review – snarling, sexy circus show is wildly entertaining
Some circus shows start with relatively simple tricks and work up to their big finish, saving the impressive stuff for last. Brisbane's Circa are so confident in the breadth of their skills and invention that right off the bat they bring out a guy who can hold the weight of six other people all balanced in a tower on top of him. It's quite an opening statement. Edinburgh fringe is awash with acrobatics and there are plenty of people trying to do what Circa do – stylish circus with choreographic sensibility; athletic and atmospheric – but this troupe has been at it for 20 years and director Yaron Lifschitz has really got it down. Wolf is a very entertaining hour that embraces animal instincts. It's down with politeness, up with prowling, snarling, shows of sheer strength and seriously sexy posturing (complete with red lipstick). Designer Libby McDonnell's sleek costumes in fawn and black stripes make their own optical effects, too. There might be a touch of the feral, but this show is also super-slick. Bodies fly, hurl, flip, swing, teeter, strain and splat (deliberately) flat on the floor. They toss each other across the stage, from one human tower to another, and test gravity's limits in shape-shifting balances of three, four, five, six people. The fluid interactions are well drilled but still utterly live in the moment. Some highlights: the woman who balances two men on her shoulders – take that, gender norms! A funny set piece with two men in a tight embrace thwarting other performers' increasingly desperate attempts to infiltrate their hug. And the edgy energy of an aerial straps routine where the performer is like a trapped insect, spiky limbs attacking or struggling to get free, rather than the usual silken grace you get from aerialists. There's no great message here, bar 'Look at how awesome these performers are'. They are enjoying every minute, and displaying human instincts as much as animal ones. The charged atmosphere plateaus a little way before the end – a more expansive soundtrack could have helped with the arc – but Circa show they are the masters at what they do. At Underbelly Circus Hub on the Meadows, Edinburgh, until 23 August All our Edinburgh festival reviews
Scotsman
04-08-2025
- Entertainment
- Scotsman
Edinburgh Fringe dance and physical theatre reviews: Circa: Wolf A Teen Odyssey Pickled Republic
Our latest round-up of dance and physical theatre reviews includes a circus troupe with canine blood pumping through its veins, a highly engaging interactive show about adolescence through the ages, and a surrealist solo show starring fruit and veg with recognisable human emotions. Sign up to our Arts and Culture newsletter, get the latest news and reviews from our specialist arts writers Sign up Thank you for signing up! Did you know with a Digital Subscription to The Scotsman, you can get unlimited access to the website including our premium content, as well as benefiting from fewer ads, loyalty rewards and much more. Learn More Sorry, there seem to be some issues. Please try again later. Submitting... Circa: Wolf ★★★★★ Underbelly's Circus Hub (Venue 360) until 23 August The contemporary circus scene might be big and beautiful now, but back in 2004 when Circa first blew our minds, they were swimming in a very small pool. To see how this company has flourished 21 years later, proves that sometimes, justice is served. Not only is the Brisbane-based company back at the Fringe this year, but they're also appearing at the Edinburgh International Festival in Orpheus and Eurydice. Keeping things fresh and exciting for audiences around the world is a heavy responsibility for artistic director, Yaron Lifschitz - but one which he rises to time and again. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad On this occasion, he was inspired by the parts of ourselves that can't be tamed. Wolf takes this wild, ferocious animal and gives it human form, wrapped up in Libby McDonnell's cleverly designed tight-fitting costumes. Abstract patterns of brown and black give a wolf-like vibe without a hint of parody. Whether the performers are prowling the stage alone or hunting as a pack, there is a sense of the animal about them. Even the aerial work, usually known for its ethereal beauty, has an angular, gnarly quality with jerking bent limbs rather than graceful extensions. While a routine reminiscent of a gymnastic floor display has canine blood pumping through its veins. But then Lifschitz has always looked for new ways to do largely the same thing, as is the task of all circus troupes. Now that everyone is doing gravity-defying throws, gasp-inducing people towers, and weight-bearing that brings a tear to the eye, it's the artistry that sets companies apart. Which is something Circa has always had in spades, and keeps them at the top of their game. In between the remarkable feats of dexterity, bravery and brute strength (of both the men and the women), brief pockets of creative movement gel the piece together. Breathing as one pack, their bodies swell and contract in time with DJ Ori Lichtik's primal beats. And meaningful stares out to the audience suggest we might be their next meal. Kelly Apter A Teen Odyssey ★★★★ Summerhall (Venue 26) until 25 August Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad A lack of understanding between teenagers and adults is the cause of many a fractious family moment. For although every parent has the experience of adolescence tucked away as a memory, coming of age in one era can be very different to the next. Yet, whether you're a boomer, millennial, or a member of Generations X or Z, we all carry many of the same hopes and fears. Majorcan physical theatre company La Mecànica set out to explore this notion in A Teen Odyssey, a highly engaging interactive promenade piece centred around our smartphones. On arrival, we download a bespoke app via a series of QR codes pinned to the wall - each one tailored to the period of time in which we were born. In a bid to know us better, an algorithm poses a series of questions, and from then on, our phones dictate our every move. Instructions flash up on the screen or are spoken, as we navigate the space and each other. Video clips capturing life for teenagers in the 1950s through to present day will bring moments of nostalgia for those who lived them, points of interest for those who didn't. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad We're encouraged to look at each other and consider what life might be like for the people surrounding us. Fun tasks, such as finding other people in the room with the same animal on screen as you have, bring us together physically. While moving testimonials from teenagers past and present connect us emotionally. As does the touching father/daughter relationship portrayed by the two performers. By the end, it's become clear that even if we're all in danger of falling into the generation gap at one point or another, there is always more that unites us than divides us. Kelly Apter Pickled Republic ★★★ Summerhall (Venue 26) until 25 August Ruxandra Cantir's incredible physical presence announces itself from the first second of this surrealist solo show. Wrapped inside stretchy red fabric, topped by a large green stem, she is the embodiment of a tomato. Finding herself the last one in the jar, she lives in vain hope each time the fridge door opens that today she'll finally meet her destiny and be eaten. With this wonderfully bizarre opener, Pickled Republic sets out its stall. This is a world where fruits and vegetables speak and have recognisable human emotions. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad Each costume change heralds a new friend for us to meet and warm to, including a potato working as a hilarious cabaret singer, a proud new mother carrot breastfeeding her young baby, an onion beat poet, and a hyper-masculine gherkin dancing to pounding beats in his sharp green suit. There is certainly much humour to be found in the anthropomorphic treatment of food, and the combination of Cantir's natural ability and director Shona Reppe's keen directorial eye bears dividends. Yet so often, the show feels as if it's heading towards deeper, more meaningful territory, only to stop short of actually saying something potent. Kelly Apter Panoptikum ★★★ Zoo Southside (Venue 82) until 10 August Nothing quite captures the evolution of humour like the cruel exploitation of 19th century travelling shows. People once flocked in their thousands to laugh at the so-called 'freaks', which is anathema to our modern sensibilities. Created by award-winning Czech choreographer, Lenka Vagnerová, Panoptikum recreates some of the unique individuals such shows put on display, then strips away the facade to reveal the human beneath the forced smile. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad Governed by a villainous showmaster, this beleaguered band of players deliver their routines with aplomb. From conjoined twins applying each other's make-up, to a bearded lady, conjurers, knife tricks and a particularly poignant moment when the crowd mocks somebody suffering from elephantiasis. A huge amount of technical aptitude has gone into this production, so hats off to the eight talented dancers who have added a new set of skills to their CV. Magic tricks and illusions are expertly executed, and good use is made of a myriad of elaborate costumes and props. A few more moments of levity in amongst the darkness would have been welcome, as would some editing, but the performers' final act of rebellion is wonderfully redemptive. Kelly Apter Solitude Without Loneliness ★★ Dance Base (Venue 22) until 10 August The notion that we can enjoy our own company without being lonely is a topic ripe for exploration. Sadly, although this new work has no shortage of energy, it barely scratches the surface. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad A choreographed opening holds promise, but from there it segues into drawn-out sequences that do little to serve the premise. A blind date (complete with the TV theme tune) at a French restaurant lacks vocal projection and comic direction. While a potentially funny meta moment, when they attempt to sell their own show with flyers, could make a much bolder statement about how we value art. Kelly Apter Nüshu: Written for Her, on Her, by Her ★★★ C ARTS | C venues | C aquila (Venue 21) until 10 August With barely audible narration, this piece centring around a secret language used by women in China (Nüshu) sometimes feels in danger of becoming a victim of its own theme. Writer/performer Jiayi Chen leads an ensemble cast, their bodies encased by the swirling fans and fabric, as they twirl through time to tell the stories of Jiayi's childhood, growing up in East Asia, her grandmother's life with Alzheimer's Disease and the missing and forgotten women married for money of simply disappeared. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad It's the latter that resonates strongest, with Chen's simply spoken words filled with the very real tension of speaking out. If the atmospheric but at times overpowering string music, chimes and recorded singing could be turned down a notch and the projection of the narration turned up, the piece might shine as brightly as the lotus lamp glowing at the front of the stage. But with fluid choreography, imaginative direction and defiant distillation of stories stripped down into simple stoic sadness, the mood is hauntingly melancholic. When Chen paints each of our hands with the scripted characters, it connects us with the women who have used them to talk to one another for hundreds of years. It's a memorable and quietly powerful conclusion, perhaps because of what you can't hear, rather than what you can. Sally Stott
