It’s hard to believe that five years on, pandemic lockdown projects are still bearing fruit, but it’s taken that long for Mark-Anthony Turnage’s opera The Railway Children, with libretto by his partner Rachael Hewer, to come to Glyndebourne. Both have worked here before, with Hewer currently directing the revival of La bohème, but it’s a debut opera there for Turnage.
Turnage is perhaps more known for darker material than Edith Nesbit’s children’s book The Railway Children and, coming hot on the heels of Festen, his disturbing psychodrama of incestuous abuse that premiered earlier this year at the Royal Opera House, a family classic such as this is definitely a gear change. However, Turnage and Hewer have relocated the action to the Cold War 1980s and created a more detailed backstory to explore the central idea that the father of the family has been wrongly imprisoned. So the opera opens with ‘spy thriller’ action and dark intrigue, as the father, David, is captured while trying to find incriminating government evidence. The role of the mother, Cathy, is also expanded, as she is involved in the espionage and resistance too.
So far, so different, but from there on, the action follows the original story a little more closely, and once the family are transported to the house in the countryside, the focus shifts to the three children and their attempts to communicate with the mysterious ‘old man’ on the train. He has been updated, not entirely convincingly, to become Sir Tommy Crawshaw, a real-life ex-footballer who died in 1960. Here he has become a kind of Marcus Rashford figure, with access to politicians and a passion about child poverty, and red football shirts are later co-opted as crucial flags to stop the train. As to how he ultimately manages to get a falsely accused spy released doesn’t bear too much scrutiny.
Hewer’s libretto is direct and clear, with switches between narration and dialogue moving the action along with pace. Turnage’s score is tight and equally pacy, with strong use of chamber forces, from single strings to woodwinds and dashes of percussion, the overall style of tense action thriller occasionally giving way to more tender lyricism, all conducted with energetic precision by Tim Anderson. Stephen Langridge’s direction keeps things moving well, with minimal unnecessary stage-pacing and clear characterisation from all.
Nicky Shaw’s design is slick and suits the action well, with camera shutter switches between scenes and stylish colour palettes, and Mark Jonathan’s lighting adds further sharpness of focus. A pretty fundamental challenge of relocating the story to the 1980s is the loss of the romanticism of steam trains, and it’s replaced here with several different animated versions of more modern engines. Given the train’s central role in the story, this feels like an omission, and despite Turnage’s evocative orchestration with brass noises and screeches, and a nod to Richard Rodney Bennett’s Murder on the Orient Express score, the dramatic train-stopping scene doesn’t completely convince.
Singing from all was faultless, with clear communication, strong depiction of characters and evenness of strength and projection. Jessica Cale was exceptional as the eldest child, Bobbie, torn between feeling responsible for her younger siblings and the need to support her mother, and she communicated her growing strength well through the mixture of narrative and interaction with other characters, her bright soprano similarly increasing in strength of conviction. Matthew McKinney was convincing as Peter, flitting between headstrong action and childish boredom, carrying Turnage’s angular lines well, and Henna Mun was endearingly sweet as Phyllis, the youngest of the children. All three managed to pull off playing children, not an easy feat, and capturing the dynamic of the young siblings well.
Meanwhile, Rachael Lloyd steered a confident line as Cathy, keeping the children shielded from the intrigue, and Bethany Horak-Hallett as friend and confidant Yolanda was suitably duplicitous. Edward Hawkins gave us dark mystery, doubling as both David and Mr Tarpolski, whilst Gavan Ring brought some welcome humour to the role of Mr Perks, with more than a hint of the great Bernard Cribbins from the film, and James Cleverton’s Tommy Crawshaw had warm-toned gravitas.
The eight-strong Glyndebourne Chorus gave strong turns as station passengers and bystanders, with several doubling up in smaller roles of police officers, train driver and even a police radio. The ensemble number, together with the main cast, celebrating the colour green, while delivered by all with tight choreography and panache, felt out of place stylistically.
A few confusing elements in the updating of characters and a lack of a convincing train notwithstanding, this is an effective take bringing something fresh to an old favourite, and Turnage’s score is full of action and interest throughout.
