When going to see a new production at ENO, always expect the unexpected. In ENO’s recent history, that has certainly been true, though not always to its credit. Friday’s opening performance of Charpentier’s Medea was no exception to the rule; however, in this case, it was an opulent, stylish and fabulous (in more than one sense) production, complemented by a truly spectacular cast.
A tragédie mise en musique, Medea – or Médée, in its original language – is a complicated tale of love and woe: in order to calm the animosity of his people, Creon, the king of Corinth, tells the Colchon princess-sorceress Medea that she must be exiled for the duration of the impending war with Acastus, whose father Medea murdered so that Jason could obtain the Golden Fleece. She begrudgingly places her children in the care of Creusa, Creon’s daughter, who is betrothed to Prince Orontes but has declared her love for Jason (it’s not unrequited, by the way). Orontes promises Medea refuge if she can help speed his wedding to Creusa, but when she reveals to him her suspicion that her exile is merely a means of facilitating the marriage of Creusa and Jason, they mutually vow to support each other’s cause. Medea summons Jealousy and Vengeance when her suspicions are confirmed, and her vengeance knows no bounds – she summons beautiful women to drive Creon into a frenzy. She promises to stop causing suffering once Creusa has been married to Orontes, but it is too late, as Creon, in his frenzy, has already killed Orontes and then himself. The golden dress that Creusa is wearing has been poisoned by Medea, and she collapses in Jason’s arms. As Jason rushes to find a weapon with which to fight Medea, he is confronted by the image of their two young songs, dead. Declaring herself revenged, she departs, and the palace is left destroyed.
This dramatic story is matched by an equally dramatic production. Director Sir David McVicar’s crack team includes designer Bunny Christie, making her ENO debut. She has transposed this Baroque opera to the 1940s, with a Baroque palace (clever...) requisitioned as a military planning HQ. For once, this “update” works quite well, the tri-service element reflecting the characters’ various causes: Creon is an Army General; Jason a Navy Captain; and Orontes a dashing airman). Costume-wise, it is a mixture of sexed-up military and decadent glitz and glamour. Charpentier’s opera contains plenty of interludes, which are here accompanied by a troupe of dancers. It is not all twee Baroque dancing, though – Lynne Page’s choreography is more modern than that. Particularly effective is the choreography when Medea summons the spirits of Jealousy and Vengeance, who writhe and wriggle and grasp their way across the floor. On the whole, it captures the prevailing mood at various stages. It is also funny, sometimes, at least to begin with: during the first interlude, the gung-ho Navy boys pull off a quasi-gymnastic routine, with a bit of Cockney slapstick thrown in for good measure. Later on, this high-campery becomes just slightly too detached from the direction of the opera, with burlesque dancers in red, sequinned hotpants taking the stage, and a large, red, glittery (no kidding!) aeroplane wheeled in to boot: more West End than opera house.