Mary Woodward Review

LGBT History Month and Pride Saltire: Bohemian Rhapsody – film, The Brunton, Musselburgh

Bohemian Rhapsody – film

***** (5 stars)

I think this is the first time I have seen the Brunton’s cinema packed almost to overflowing – friends of mine were only able to get tickets in the restricted view area which is not usually sold for films: and almost all the audience were grey-headed.

Were they all reliving their lost youth?  Certainly, the film was a superb one for anyone who simply wanted to revel in the music of Queen: but there was so much more than just a selection of ‘Queen’s Greatest Hits’ [though there was a satisfying large number of those].  Fashion, music, social history, and a reflection of the changing attitudes towards ‘deviants’ are all charted, and for those of us who remember closet life, there’s a trip down memory lane.

Opening with a shot of Freddie Mercury preparing to go onstage for Live Aid, we are cleverly taken back to 1970 with newsreel footage of Charles and Diana showing on the screen of a TV mobile studio.  Cut to Heathrow airport with the young Farrokh Bulsara unloading luggage from a plane and refuting one of his colleagues’ assertion that he’s a “Paki” – the story has begun…   We follow Freddie as he asserts his independence from his Farsi family, changes his name, becomes involved with Mary Austin and joins Brian May, Roger Taylor and John Deacon to form what becomes Queen.  We meet the goodies and baddies in the band’s and Freddie’s life: the goodies are mainly saints and the baddies straightforwardly bad [though it takes Freddie a long time to unmask the worst of these].  We see glimpses of the lifestyle that resulted in AIDS, but there’s nothing really explicit or shocking: there is great sadness but also much humour, and the grey-haired audience laughed a lot.  The film ends as it began with the Live Aid concert: Freddie’s decline and death are only listed on screen as the credits begin to roll.

What sticks with me?  The moment when Freddie explains to the sceptical record producer that Queen are a band of misfits who are playing for each other and for the misfits at the back of the room; the beginnings of the creation of We will rock you, with Brian May wanting to write a song the audience can join in with – stamp stamp clap silence [repeat ad lib]; a lonely Freddie standing in the rain after dismissing the man he’s finally realised is the snake in the grass; and the incredible warmth coming from the audience to envelop the band wherever they played..

Oh yes, and the music – which is brilliant, of course; the incredible portrayal of Freddie by Rami Malek which has, rightly, already won him a Best Actor Bafta and Golden Globe – surely an Oscar awaits.  I was impressed by the equally outstanding Gwilym Lee, Ben Hardy and Joseph Mazzello as May, Taylor and Deacon: either they are all superb musicians or exceedingly talented mimics!

It’s visually gorgeous, a film which I’d gladly see again and again: it may not be 100% truth, but if it’s a lie it’s so well told that it can be forgiven… This is the first film in the Brunton’s series celebrating LGBT History Month: don’t miss A Fantastic Woman on February 20th and The Miseducation of Cameron Post on 27th.

LGBT History Month and Pride Saltire: Bohemian Rhapsody – film, The Brunton, Musselburgh, Run ended but go to: https://pridesaltire.org.uk/lgbthistory.html For Further schedule performances.

 

Mary Woodward Review

Extremely Pedestrian Chorales,Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh, Review:

Extremely Pedestrian Chorales

**** (4 stars)

Well, that was extraordinary!

I imagine some people might have been sitting in the audience going “what the **** is this?  Load of rubbish!” –  as four people singly and in twos, threes and fours, hopped, skipped, jumped, stepped and strode around the acting area, each concentrating on a little book they held, and magically avoiding each other without [seemingly] being aware of each other’s presence.

I was caught in a web of sound and movement that explored twelve Bach chorales – some superbly sung by seven musicians sitting at the side of the bare performance area, some exquisitely mangled rhythmically and tonally courtesy of a laptop, and some danced silently or with single ‘instrument’ accompaniment [kazoos, cowbells, mouth organs] by a quartet of dancers – the traditional Soprano, Alto, Tenor and Bass.  Each was engrossed in their own hand-held score:  occasionally they glanced at us, at each other.  All were furiously counting silently: intermittently they announced something [From the bottom of my heart; Out of the depth I scream to you; oh how insubstantial, how fleeting] or [increasingly as the performance progressed] muttering sotto voce or even quite audibly – and all the time, counting, counting, counting.  There were wigs: some quite petite and restrained, others in a full-blown explosion reminiscent of those in The Favourite, doffed and donned and thrown on the floor.

I think my favourite chorale was For Joy Let Us Jump, but during the whole performance I was revelling in the absurd while at the same time paying homage to the complexity of Bach’s writing, the immense breadth of his harmonic and melodic invention, and the skills and imagination of composer Matteo Fargion, the seven singers and the four dancers – Neil Callaghan, Janine Fletcher, Claire Godsmark and deviser Karl Jay-Lewin.

Many of us really appreciated being invited at the end of the performance to come and talk to the dancers and see the scores from which they were working – tiny marks for each step and its direction, derived from the notes Bach wrote for each individual voice in the chorales.  Would seeing this beforehand have made any difference to our appreciation of the performance?  I think it was quite fun to have to try to work out what on earth was going on – but also would like to see the piece again, knowing how it worked.

There was laughter at times, and richly appreciative applause at the end: a splendid way to open the Manipulate festival.

Extremely Pedestrian Chorales as part of Manipulate Festival (2 -12 February)Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Review by Mary Woodward

Mary Woodward Review

Scottish Opera / National Opera Studio – Showcase King’s Theatre, Edinburgh: Review

Scottish Opera / National Opera Studio – Showcase

**** (4 stars)

Well, it did exactly what it said on the tin, and showcased the talents of the current crop of students at the National Opera Studio in a series of extracts from a wide range of operas.  It was most interesting to see particular singers go off-stage having finished one excerpt and reappear instantly in a different role and a different language – this helped highlight what did and didn’t suit each singer, and seemed to give more of the spotlight to some that to others [why only one appearance from the counter-tenor, for example?]

There were some good bits, some interesting bits, some very good bits, and some extremely good ones, with a few outstanding individual performances – in particular baritone Jake Muffett who was a superb Figaro in Rossini’s Il Barbiere di Siviglia and an equally accomplished Count in Mozart’s Le Nozze di Figaro – he’ll undoubtedly be a magnetic Figaro in that, too.  Tiny soprano Ana-Maria Bacanu kept re-appearing and making a stunning impact whatever she sang – most particularly a heart-rending Rodelinda bidding farewell to the husband she’d thought was dead and with whom she’d just been re-united [trust Handel to write truly gut-wrenching music for that scene!] and the heartless Adina in Donizetti’s L’Elisir d’Amore, rejecting Nemorino’s protestations of true love [glad that she gets her comeuppance later in the opera] and finally as Susanna pretending to agree to the Count’s proposed assignation  – a superb, though brief duet: and then suddenly the show was over…

There was a lot of rope and string, well used as props which linked one scene to another – though at times one could become more interested in what was being done with it than in what was being sung…

I wasn’t wildly impressed by the scene from Britten’s Rape of Lucretia, not because of poor singing but because the sentiments being expressed really pissed me off – “how cruel men are to teach us love…then ride away while we still yearn” – presenting women as helpless and two-dimensional puppets…  I found the subsequent scene from Peter Grimes much more compelling – and showcasing the brilliant playing of the orchestra of Scottish Opera as they created the sounds and movement of the sea and subsequent rising storm.  Tenor Roberto Barbaro made the cruelly high lines seem easy, and gave the sound a lot more welly than some tenors I won’t name.  He was less pleasing to listen to in the extract from Cosi, when his voice lacked the smooth roundedness to cope with the flowing melodic lines: he didn’t entirely convince me as a successful lover, either – but then maybe this is part of the plot which it wasn’t really possible to portray fully in that one scene.

Charlie Drummond and Margo Arsane were well-cast as the card-consulting gypsies Frasquita and Mercedes, and Marvic Monreal sang Carmen’s brooding solo well, though with a little too much vibrato for my taste.  I wasn’t convinced by her ‘sulky street kid’ attitude: hopefully she will mature into this role.  Margo Arsane returned to be the feisty and quick-witted Rosina to Jake Muffet’s Figaro in the duet where she learns her love for the ‘student’ who’s been serenading her is returned.

A most pleasant evening and a lot of very promising names to look out for, which bodes well for the future of opera.

Scottish Opera / National Opera Studio – Showcase – Kings Theatre Edinburgh, Run Ended.

Review by Mary Woodward

Mary Woodward Review

Glasgow Girls, King’s Theatre, Edinburgh, Review

Glasgow Girls, King’s Theatre, Edinburgh

**** (4 stars)

“Together we are strong” is the refrain that haunts me as I leave the theatre and go out into the dark, wet night.  I have a home to go to and, despite being a Sassenach invader, I have a home in Scotland and the right to stay there, not to be forcibly removed in the middle of the night, taken to a detention centre, and threatened with removal to a war-torn country that is not safe for me to be in.  But this is the fate of men, women, and CHILDREN, because despite the Scots law that protects the child, refugee and asylum-seeker matters are devolved to Westminster and seemingly we Scots are powerless to prevent forcible detention, imprisonment and deportation.

But this is not so: six schoolgirls from Drumchapel High School, one of the most deprived schools in one of the poorest areas of Glasgow, have shown us the way – are we brave enough to follow their lead?  We may not always win – but that’s no reason not to fight: each little act to oppose both the injustices and the ocean of prejudice and misinformation with which we are constantly bombarded is another addition to the ocean of love and compassion which opposes all the negative attitudes: we’re all Jock Tamsin’s bairns, we’re all Scotland’s weans, and hurt to me hurts everyone around me.

David Greig and Cora Bisset’s show celebrates the six girls who changed the world around them. Powerful music, electric energy, moving situations, brutal imagery depicting the disproportionate force and brutality used against people who are offering no resistance – does it really take ten men to arrest a mother and her small son?? – and the power of the Noreens and Jeans of this world who stand up for their neighbours and time and again defy the forces of the law who believe they have right on their side combine to produce a show which blazes with the Scottish sense of justice and fair play for everyone who lives here.

It’s a powerful show, with a message that is even more relevant today than when the show was first written. A magnificent selection of heart-felt songs, a cast of nine who manage to be so many different people during the course of the show, good and bad alike, and a superb fiddle player who keens and laments and celebrates with the girls and their neighbours, proclaim the feisty spirit of the people of Scotland who will not stand by and see injustice and unfair treatment of innocent people, but will fight with every means they can find to oppose it – and invite and inspire us the audience to join in the struggle, even though there is no guarantee of victory.

There were rousing cheers from the audience for the songs, bursts of laughter at ourselves and our typical Scots reaction to things and situations, and prolonged and vociferous applause at the end of the show.  The only reason I’ve not given five stars is that the amplification was such that some of the words of the songs were inaudible – and maybe had I been sitting in a different seat this would not have been a problem.  It’s another David Greig/ Cora Bisset unmissable show – who will go out tomorrow and start to change the world, little by little?

Together we are strong….

Glasgow Girls, King’s Theatre, Edinburgh Run Ended, Production tours to Perth Theatre, Perth January 30th and Eden Court Theatre, Inverness 7th -9th February.

Review by Mary Woodward.

 

Mary Woodward Review

Scottish Opera, Anthropocene, Theatre Royal, Glasgow, Review:

Scottish Opera Presents Anthropocene, Theatre Royal, Glasgow: 

**** 4 Stars

Well, what was that all about??

I had come to Glasgow expecting Scottish Opera’s usual excellence in what I would loosely term ‘modern opera’ and am sorry to say I was somewhat disappointed.  The dangling, flayed seal carcass, the printed circuit board that snapped when dropped, and the bloodfest at the end [sniggerworthy rather than moving] neither engaged me nor taught me deep truths : but there were some brilliantly memorable images and moments –  the ice block being slowly winched to the ground with the curled-up body clearly visible inside; the thawed-out Ice-girl, wired up and in a hospital bed, shrinking away from the greedily outstretched hands of the Professor and her husband; and her horror at the total absence of love or lovingkindness of the final brutal sacrifice.

This was  an excellent exhibition of greed, vanity, self-interest, hypocrisy and all the less appealing human trait.  It tried along the way to present us with a huge moral dilemma – save the planet, or save a few people’s lives?  But the vehicle for this was, alas, a fable that beggared belief,…

Brief outline of story: a research ship, the King’s Anthropocene, is moored off the Greenland coast at the end of the Arctic summer.  The Professor is supervising the collection of deep level ice samples, assisted by her husband Charles, another scientist.  The expedition has been funded by wealthy entrepreneur Harry King: his daughter Daisy, an amateur photographer, accompanies him, and journalist Miles has been employed to report the expedition’s hoped-for success in revealing the origins of life.  The captain of the ship Anthropocene and his engineer Vasco complete the crew.  An ice storm is brewing, and the Captain and Vasco want to make for open water without delay: but Charles, Daisy and Miles are away collecting samples and the Professor hesitates, not wanting to abandon them.  They arrive on board, she orders their departure, but too late – the ship is icebound.

Charles has discovered a body in the ice and brings it back to the ship. Daisy is convinced she sees its eyes move, and Vasco uses an axe to free the body: everyone is amazed when the young woman starts to breathe and move.  Miles sabotages the ship’s communications system but is seen by Vasco, whom he later ‘accidentally’ murders; Harry King is obsessed with worry about the fate of his many schemes while he is trapped on board; the two scientists are convinced they will be as famous as Newton or Darwin; Daisy is desolate over Vasco’s death; and the Captain foresees doom and disaster everywhere, regarding the strange young woman, whom they call Ice, as an abomination who will bring disaster to them all.  Ice reveals her story – she was sacrificed to release her tribe from the ice which had imprisoned them – and says that only blood will melt the ice in which they are all trapped…

White curtains framed the acting area: vaguely nautical and scientific stuff was moved around the deck of the ship: large letters spelling out the ship’s name were initially in pristine order but were whirled around by the cast as the storm wreaked its havoc.  The costumes were mainly arctic parkas and trousers, which must have been hot to sing in: the final act’s simple white ‘pyjamas’ must have come as a relief.  Ice was dressed in teeshirt and trousers once she’d escaped from her bed in the sick bay: she obviously didn’t feel the cold!

There was a lot of singing but few recognisably melodic lines, and some interesting combinations of sounds: but on this first hearing I found it hard really to take much notice of the music, which was an integral part of the action but didn’t have much memorable about it [unlike some of the lines in Walsh and MacRae’s the Bottle Imp].  There were many unlovely lines of speech bellowed above a complex orchestral score.  I was very near the front of the stalls [wonder whether the balance would have been better had I been further back?] and didn’t find much that engaged my interest: in the end it became a constant succession of Noises – with the honourable exception of Ice’s lines which were always interesting and easily audible.  Maybe this too was the intention – to represent the cacophony of contemporary life and the chaos and confusion of warring relationships, and contrast it with the simplicity of Ice’s existence, part of her tribe, knowing she was loved even in the moment of her death.

There was an outstanding performance – yet again – from Jennifer France [the Controller in Flight, and Zerbinetta in Ariadne Auf Naxos] whose seemingly effortless ability to sing ridiculously high and while making every word audible is staggeringly impressive.  She gave a sensitive and deeply moving performance as the girl murdered to save her tribe from the ice who finds herself alive and breathing in a completely alien world.

Paul Whelan’s Captain, moving in and out of madness [channelling his inner Captain Ahab?] was only allowed to bellow; Marc le Brocq’s Harry King [not Terry Pratchett’s King of the Golden River, but a megalomaniac obsessed with his reputation and his share prices] sang melodically in the first act but didn’t do much later on; Anthony Gregory’s Vasco, the innocent victim, made some beautiful sounds but was bumped off before he could do much more.  Benedict Nelson’s Miles cleverly portrayed the self-obsessed journalist willing to put everyone’s lives at risk then lying continually to save his skin; Jeni Bern’s Professor and her husband Charles [Stephen Gadd] were obsessed with claiming the glory for finding the girl in the ice with no notion of her as a sentient being; Sarah Champion’s Daisy tried to make her flirtatious scene with Vasco interesting and credible, but failed to convince me.  All in all, the 21st century characters were all pretty unpleasant and unloveable, without redeeming features –  I wasn’t involved in their lives and didn’t really care what happened to them.  I was deeply concerned for Ice, involved in her plight and her feelings on coming back to life, and angry at the insensitivity with which she was treated.

One excellent thing about the production – it had my companion and me talking about it all the way home!  It’s not an easy evening’s listening, and it doesn’t have the ebullient ‘in your face’ impact that Mark Anthony Turnage’s Greek had, but it’s a most interesting attempt to make some comments on contemporary society and attitudes.  Tonight’s performance was the world premiere.  The packed audience was very loud in its applause both for the hard-working cast, conductor and orchestra, the creative team, and composer Stuart MacRae and librettist Louise Walsh – but the honours of the evening undoubtedly belong to the amazing and sensitive performance of Jennifer France.

Scottish Opera Presents Anthropocene, Theatre Royal Glasgow Run Ended, Production will tour Edinburgh Kings Theatre from 31st Jan to 2nd February then Hackney Empire Theatre, London from 7th to 9th February. For Ticket info go to: https://www.capitaltheatres.com/whats-on/anthropocene

Review by Mary Woodward

Mary Woodward Review

Cilea Adriana Lecouvreur­ – Metropolitan Opera, New York – Review

Cilea Adriana Lecouvreur­ – ( Via Live relay to British Cinemas)

***** (5 stars)

This rarely-seen opera was performed by a stellar cast demonstrating exactly why it’s such a rarity: you need more than superb voices – magnificent acting and a brilliant ensemble are also mandatory if this piece is to catch fire and not flop embarrassingly, as some Met productions I’ve seen have done.

At its most basic, the story is a battle between two strong women – the eponymous actress and the Princess de Bouillon – in love with the same man – Maurizio, Count of Saxony.  Add in the Prince, a philandering husband jealous of his wife and suspecting her of infidelity, Michonnet, the stage manager who silently loves Adriana, and the bickering and gossiping cast of the Comédie Française, and you have the bald outline of the plot of Adriana – but this is to ignore the many subtleties which twist and turn the plot into a kaleidoscope of fluctuating emotions and propel it to its tragic end.

Premiered in 1902, the opera pays homage to the bel canto tradition while also looking forward to verismo but, as conductor Gianandrea Noseda said, not blood and fire verismo but real emotions, with passion tearing people apart.  The superb score with its detailed orchestration was brilliantly played by the Met orchestra, painting pictures of the backstage bustle prior to a performance, the joyous outpourings of the happy lovers, the agitation and concealed menace as the plot thickens, and the desolation and doom-laden final act.

Adriana Lecouvreur really existed, as did the Count of Saxony and the Prince and Princess de Bouillon, the former an expert in poisons.  Adriana was an actress at the Comédie Française in the 18th century who was particularly noted for her naturalistic acting which contrasted strongly with the artificial style of the time.  She really did have an affair with Maurizio, and her sudden death gave rise to rumours that she had been poisoned.

The cast were magnificent.  Anna Netrebko was at her diva assoluta best as the actress torn by doubts and fears yet radiant in her love, who rises to the peak of her dramatic powers publicly to scorn her rival for unblushingly carrying on an affair under her husband’s nose.  The Princess, Anita Rachvelishvili, was breathtakingly assured in her wealth and power, riven by jealousy of her rival and determined never to give up her lover – a fabulous voice and a commanding personality.  Piotr Beczala made Maurizio’s outpourings – romantic, tender, martial, passionate – seem effortless as he trod the tricky path between furthering his ambitions by responding to his patron, the Princess, and wooing the actress who had transformed his life.  It was a delight to have three superb Italian character actors in the other principal roles: Carlo Bosi as the scheming, pandering Abbé, Maurizio Muraro as the two-timing but incandescently jealous Prince, and the incomparable Ambrogio Maestri as the silently suffering Michonnet, the stage manager who has loved Adriana and suffered in silence for five years.  He gave a master class in subtle, understated acting which cast into strong contrast the impressively dramatic and at times almost histrionic performances all around him.

I’ve loved this opera for years – the delightfully haphazard and seemingly shambolic backstage life in a big theatre, the subtle orchestration, the cleverly atmospheric themes running throughout the score.  It was with enormous pleasure that I saw David McVicar’s 18th century box set theatre being moved around the stage during each act – presenting us with the view from backstage, from the wings, and from the audience, being transformed into the Prince’s house in which the after-show party is held and the two women begin to realise that they are rivals], and ending backstage again, in the drabness of the morning.  The final tableau in which the whole cast of the Comédie Française came to the footlights to see and salute Adriana’s final, and only too real death scene was a fitting tribute to an evening in which the lines between acting and reality were continually being blurred.

Enrico Caruso sang in the first Met performances of Adriana:  Renata Tebaldi, Mirella Freni, Montserrat Caballé and Renata Scotto were all megastars of the Met who triumphed, each in their own way, in this role.  Anna Netrebko out-diva’ed the lot of them: but for my money, the greatest performance was that of Ambrogio Maestri as the great-hearted and ultimately disappointed Michonnet.  I’m so glad finally to have seen this opera – such a dream team may not be assembled again in my lifetime…

Mary Woodward Review

Scottish Ballet: Cinderella, Festival Theatre, Edinburgh, Review:

Scottish Ballet   Cinderella

**** 4 stars

I wonder if Christopher Hampton is in a time warp, and hasn’t realised he’s creating ballets in an age which is accustomed to Matthew Bourne’s ballets and expects a more continuous story line and costumes that don’t look as though they come from mid-way through the last century… mind you, this ballet was first created for New Zealand in 2007: maybe it’s simply showing its age, like the rest of us.

This is a little harsh but oh dear … the Fairy Godmother [who first came out of the undergrowth, gave her god-daughter a pumpkin and disappeared again] wore what looked like a governess’s costume in a very drab greyish colour.  Her rose fairies were equally frumpy with pink skirts and green tops that did nothing for them – or me.  At the ball, the guests were dressed identically, the men in evening dress, the girls in dull pink and black frocks, with which the sister’s acid green and bright pink dresses clashed horribly – but maybe this was the intention?  Cinderella and the prince were lovely in silver and gold but why was she the only one in a tutu?  And don’t get me started on the grasshopper and moths in the garden scene –they were straight out of the pastiche ballet in the middle of MB’s Swan Lake but without the permission to laugh or even giggle because everyone else was taking things so seriously!

There were slight twists to the classic Cinderella story.  On her mother’s death Cinderella plants a rose bush in her garden, which she visits when she can: when she leaves the ball, she drops a sparkling slipper, but retains a silver rose the Prince has given her.  The Prince orders copies of the slipper to be made and sent out throughout the kingdom – but still takes the original with him as he hunts for his beloved.  The wicked stepmother finds and destroys Cinders’ remaining slipper, and the one the Prince brings with him somehow manages to fit Tall Stepsister.  He is about to accept her as his bride when he sees that Cinders has the rose, and it all turns out well…

The characters are excellent – especially Kayla-Maree Tarantolo’s short Stepsister, who had a fabulous comic sense and way more heart than her taller sister, and richly deserved to end up with her one of the Prince’s Best Friends [Evan Loudon and Thomas Edwards].  The other one’s reluctance to dance or have anything to do with Tall Stepsister was obvious, but not overdone.  Grace Horler’s tall Stepsister was as mean as her heartless and greedy mother [Marge Hendrick], while Cinderella’s father [Christopher Harrison], though loving, sought comfort in alcohol and stood by while his daughter was cruelly treated by her new family.  I felt very sorry for the grasshopper [Jamiel Laurence] and the moths [Constant Vigier and Bruno Micchiardi], who did the best they could but were fighting a losing battle with their ridiculous costumes: the tailors and cobblers made a much better job of their cameos.  The corps did a good if slightly ragged job, and the Prince and Cinders [Barnaby Rook-Bishop and Sophie Martin] were technically superb – one amazingly high lift somehow corkscrewed down into an impressive hold: but I guess (a) I’ve been spoiled by a recent diet of Matthew Bourne, Ballet Rambert and the Trocks and (b) I’m not a ballet expert and so don’t appreciate the finer points of what I see [no pun intended].

What were the bits I really liked?  The row of legs as the Prince went by with the sparkling slipper… the rose moon which first bloomed in the garden and watched over Cinderella when she was at the ball… the dressmakers’ dance with Cinders and their tape measures as they made a ball dress for her… and the lovely transformations from house to garden.  It was a delight to have a real, and huge, orchestra making a very good job of the Prokofiev score – and unusual to see them applauding their conductor as he left the pit to go on stage and receive his applause.

The story was well told, and the loneliness of both Cinderella and her Prince were subtly shown, especially when the rest of the action was frozen and the main protagonist showed their isolation from the people around them.  I usually love Scottish Ballet and really enjoy their shows: I enjoyed the storytelling but got bored when it was interrupted by some ‘show-off dancing’.

There was a delighted ‘aaah’ from the audience when finally the happy couple went to the garden and rose petals showered down on them, and plenty of warm applause both during and at the end of the show.  It may have failed to excite me, but most people were delighted and went home happy – the woman next to me saying she’d been transported into a wonderland she’d not experienced since she was eight years old.  Go and see it and make up your own mind.

Scottish Ballet Presents, Cinderella, Festival Theatre, Edinburgh, Runs until  30th, December, for tickets go to: https://www.capitaltheatres.com/whats-on/sbcinderella

The production will then tour to Glasgow, Aberdeen, Inverness and Newcastle.

 

Review by Mary Woodward.