Review: Skellig, The Sage Gateshead
Nov 25 2008 by David Whetstone, The Journal
David Whetstone on Skellig, the opera, premiered last night at The Sage Gateshead
THERE is no greater risk in the theatre – or, indeed, in opera – than that inherent in adapting a much-loved book.
In particular, you tinker at your peril with the tales of our formative years. We treasure the memories we have of them and protect them loyally and fiercely.
It was only 10 years ago that Skellig was published – to be garlanded with literary honours – and the youngest readers from 1998 are still, perhaps, a little too young for opera.
On the other hand, if it was the strange blend of gritty realism and magic that appealed to them a decade ago on the printed page, there is every chance that this production will provide an entree into an art form usually aimed at adults.
I really wanted this to work. I read David Almond’s book all those years ago in manuscript form and was entranced by it.
A boy, Michael, moves with his parents and sickly baby sister into a house that, in estate agents’ parlance, would benefit from a little updating.
The baby may die. Understandably, the as-yet-unnamed infant monopolises his parents’ attention. Michael is alone – until he encounters Mina, the home-educated girl next door, and the thing that lives in the garage.
This is Skellig, a grubby, cantankerous, Chinese takeaway-eating conundrum who, nevertheless, has lumps where you’d imagine an angel’s wings would sprout from.
Skellig has already been a play and it is to be a film next year, on TV and then in cinemas.
And now to unleash the superlatives in the wake of last night’s world premiere at The Sage Gateshead. Skellig works brilliantly as an opera. Boy, does it work!
It left me with a lump in my throat and a sort of a tickle in one eye. Big boys don’t cry, of course, but I was very moved. This is a very classy piece of work indeed – a modern opera with legs as well as wings. And it was made in Gateshead – music courtesy of Tod Machover, an American, and a libretto by the man himself, Northumberland’s David Almond, who came on stage for a prolonged ovation last night.
The vastly experienced Braham Murray, from Manchester’s Royal Exchange Theatre, directs a good cast of singers, which includes a chorus of North East youngsters as Skellig’s bird-like acolytes, while Garry Walker conducts the Northern Sinfonia.
The set is big and black, with the vast hulk of a fallen tree to one side and builders’ planks providing interesting angles across the stage - and later to be transformed with clever lighting.
It begins quietly, conversationally, with Matthew Long, as Michael, stepping forward and engaging us: “I found him in the garage on a Sunday afternoon...” Then the music takes over.
Matthew is a young tenor of great talent and promise. He projects the loneliness of his character and the sensitivity which eventually revives in Skellig some angelic qualities.
As Mina, American Merrin Lazyan is equally effective, depicting the young girl’s intelligence and feistiness. When these two are on stage together, which is often, there is a real chemistry.
Omar Ebrahim, as Skellig, spends most of the first half on the floor in the corner, spitting and hollering.
As in the book, we are never too sure about Skellig. “Something like an angel, something like a bird, something like you,” he snarls at Michael.
The North East has given the world some robust and unconventional angels (Skellig came out in the year Antony Gormley’s creation took wing) but the most moving thing about Skellig is that he is imperfect. So is the world, so are we and God moves in mysterious ways.
I thought the music was beautiful and haunting but you can read our classical music critic Thomas Hall’s review on-line from Thursday on www.journallive.co.uk/culture.
Skellig runs until Saturday (no performance tomorrow).
Share
