Why oh why would a company dedicated to the presentation of musical gems, operatic in this case, corrupt the acoustic vim of a small chamber orchestra and several fine operatic voices with layers and layer of miking that produced a heavy reverberating sound scape that at times pained the ear? What was the production team thinking, particularly in this 19th century venue?
The cachet of having the highly experienced operatic team of Cheryl Barker and Peter Coleman-Wright was almost negated by the sourness of the amplification. But given the talent of these two, the robust humour and inherent sadness of Bernstein’s’ Trouble in Tahiti (1952) would not be defeated. Though both in their sixtieth decade, the solid technique and fine projection of their voices traversed the emotional terrain of the Berstein work with clear diction and searing power. They showcased the work’s inherent energy and precision, its ability to move and amuse.
Coleman-Wright’s solid, self-satisfied masculinity was beautifully portrayed in ‘The law of man’ - as was his vulnerability in ‘Why did I lie’. Barker as Dinah was suitably exuberant in the retelling of the 1950s film musical she had suffered to watch on her afternoon out, avoiding her husband and her son, Junior. The pathos of the ongoing fractured relationship was beautiful handled by this pair of troupers.
The trio of singers (Ed Suttle, Damien Hall, Lesley Brathwaite) were drolly amusing, beautifully costumed as dazzling 1950s fashionista. They sang with jazzy inflection, acting as a smiling chorus praising and mocking the gift of the desired good life and a slow death by “su bur bi a”. As Berstein noted, “a Greek chorus born on the radio commercial”. The miking, however, smothered much of their harmonic interaction. They were well choreographed by Lesley Braithwaite.
This work was preceded by the Australian premiere of Arlecchino by Feruccio Busoni. Written during the first world war, this comedy is built on fine orchestration and a melodious vocal line, underpinned by a music and verbal acidity. Composed across 1913-1916, it is a number opera that like Stravinsky’s Rakes Progress veers toward a neo classical tang. Written in German (Busoni wrote the libretto, as well) it was premiered in Zurich in 1917.
Without a program, and without projections or stage boards/flip charts that might have articulated the broad thrust of each scene (Arlecchino as Rogue, Arlecchino as Warrior, Arlecchino as Husband etc), we were left to grapple with the terrain, unaided. The English translation opted for colloquial precepts, al a early Barry Humphries. Unfortunately, there was no great menace in the assumption of this speaking role by Andy Leonard, though he did manage to instantiate its misogynistic thrust: chummy instead of chilling. Arlecchino stands outside the vocalising, as an ironical commentator, with a narration that operates over a series of delicious pastiche like musical thoughts that seems often to be channelling a deft Mozartian style – another link to Stravinsky.
The singing of the operatic voices was solid, but the reverberation of the miking defeated any excellence. The Master Tailor (Matteo del Sarto) was sung by Ed Suttle with a robust baritone, though the Dante tale he must project (Paolo and Francesca) lacked narrative clarity and impact.
The roles of Dottor Bombasta and Abbate Cospicuo were given a dark edge by Matthew Avery and Ziggy Harris, respectively. Their duetting was very effective. The Abbot reciting the names of his ten daughters was archly droll.
Columbina, Arlecchino’s wife, was deliciously sung by Brea Holland, though the pole dancing she executed with some skill was somewhat of a distraction. She was vividly costumed. As Leandra, the cavalier, Damien Hall struggled with the role’s tessitura, particularly in his romanza. Costumed as a glittered and ageing rocker, the comic agency of the role was nicely realised in his resurrection scene. Their love duet was passably romantic.
The silent role of the tailor’s wife, Annunziata (Tenielle Thompson) was somewhat stilted, the humour telegraphed like a British Carry-On movie. Across both works, the stiffness of the silent comprimario roles was distracting.
The orchestration of the Busoni (Narelle French & Peter Alexander) was a revelation with brilliant woodwind and brass: wonderful fanfares, dazzling Italian wit, abrupt changes of key, slippery chromatics. Though overmiked, the orchestra under Peter Alexander did justice to the works many musical gems.
The staging of the Busoni was basic – an upstairs room, a door and a maypole and a stage donkey! The scene changes were incredibly clunky – with the very visible stagehand helplessly closing the recalcitrant door. Direction (Christine Logan) was stolid, lacking any whiplash definition, and teetering into Gilbert and Sullivan pedantries.
In the Bernstein, pace and direction were sharper as though picking up on the jazzy inflections of the score. The little white picket fence was a nice idea, but timid in size and intent. The flip charts of 1950s suburbia was a dryly comic touch. Costuming by Bianca de Nicole was vivid and apt.
The enterprise and partially released excellence of Endangered Productions’ work is to be welcomed.
Endangered Productions, Eternity Playhouse, Sydney, 7 December 2025
Gar Jones
The cachet of having the highly experienced operatic team of Cheryl Barker and Peter Coleman-Wright was almost negated by the sourness of the amplification. But given the talent of these two, the robust humour and inherent sadness of Bernstein’s’ Trouble in Tahiti (1952) would not be defeated. Though both in their sixtieth decade, the solid technique and fine projection of their voices traversed the emotional terrain of the Berstein work with clear diction and searing power. They showcased the work’s inherent energy and precision, its ability to move and amuse.
Coleman-Wright’s solid, self-satisfied masculinity was beautifully portrayed in ‘The law of man’ - as was his vulnerability in ‘Why did I lie’. Barker as Dinah was suitably exuberant in the retelling of the 1950s film musical she had suffered to watch on her afternoon out, avoiding her husband and her son, Junior. The pathos of the ongoing fractured relationship was beautiful handled by this pair of troupers.
The trio of singers (Ed Suttle, Damien Hall, Lesley Brathwaite) were drolly amusing, beautifully costumed as dazzling 1950s fashionista. They sang with jazzy inflection, acting as a smiling chorus praising and mocking the gift of the desired good life and a slow death by “su bur bi a”. As Berstein noted, “a Greek chorus born on the radio commercial”. The miking, however, smothered much of their harmonic interaction. They were well choreographed by Lesley Braithwaite.
This work was preceded by the Australian premiere of Arlecchino by Feruccio Busoni. Written during the first world war, this comedy is built on fine orchestration and a melodious vocal line, underpinned by a music and verbal acidity. Composed across 1913-1916, it is a number opera that like Stravinsky’s Rakes Progress veers toward a neo classical tang. Written in German (Busoni wrote the libretto, as well) it was premiered in Zurich in 1917.
Without a program, and without projections or stage boards/flip charts that might have articulated the broad thrust of each scene (Arlecchino as Rogue, Arlecchino as Warrior, Arlecchino as Husband etc), we were left to grapple with the terrain, unaided. The English translation opted for colloquial precepts, al a early Barry Humphries. Unfortunately, there was no great menace in the assumption of this speaking role by Andy Leonard, though he did manage to instantiate its misogynistic thrust: chummy instead of chilling. Arlecchino stands outside the vocalising, as an ironical commentator, with a narration that operates over a series of delicious pastiche like musical thoughts that seems often to be channelling a deft Mozartian style – another link to Stravinsky.
The singing of the operatic voices was solid, but the reverberation of the miking defeated any excellence. The Master Tailor (Matteo del Sarto) was sung by Ed Suttle with a robust baritone, though the Dante tale he must project (Paolo and Francesca) lacked narrative clarity and impact.
The roles of Dottor Bombasta and Abbate Cospicuo were given a dark edge by Matthew Avery and Ziggy Harris, respectively. Their duetting was very effective. The Abbot reciting the names of his ten daughters was archly droll.
Columbina, Arlecchino’s wife, was deliciously sung by Brea Holland, though the pole dancing she executed with some skill was somewhat of a distraction. She was vividly costumed. As Leandra, the cavalier, Damien Hall struggled with the role’s tessitura, particularly in his romanza. Costumed as a glittered and ageing rocker, the comic agency of the role was nicely realised in his resurrection scene. Their love duet was passably romantic.
The silent role of the tailor’s wife, Annunziata (Tenielle Thompson) was somewhat stilted, the humour telegraphed like a British Carry-On movie. Across both works, the stiffness of the silent comprimario roles was distracting.
The orchestration of the Busoni (Narelle French & Peter Alexander) was a revelation with brilliant woodwind and brass: wonderful fanfares, dazzling Italian wit, abrupt changes of key, slippery chromatics. Though overmiked, the orchestra under Peter Alexander did justice to the works many musical gems.
The staging of the Busoni was basic – an upstairs room, a door and a maypole and a stage donkey! The scene changes were incredibly clunky – with the very visible stagehand helplessly closing the recalcitrant door. Direction (Christine Logan) was stolid, lacking any whiplash definition, and teetering into Gilbert and Sullivan pedantries.
In the Bernstein, pace and direction were sharper as though picking up on the jazzy inflections of the score. The little white picket fence was a nice idea, but timid in size and intent. The flip charts of 1950s suburbia was a dryly comic touch. Costuming by Bianca de Nicole was vivid and apt.
The enterprise and partially released excellence of Endangered Productions’ work is to be welcomed.
Endangered Productions, Eternity Playhouse, Sydney, 7 December 2025
Gar Jones
