Welcome to the "Night Music" page
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David Curry, Henrik Egerman
Rebecca Bottone, Anne Egerman
Lambert Wilson, Fredrik Egerman
Francesca Jackson, Petra
Greta Scacchi, Désirée
Nicholas Garrett, Comte Carl-Magnus Malcom,
Deanne Meek, Comtesse Charlotte Malcom
Celeste de Veazey, Fredrika Armfeldt
Leslie Caron, Madame Armfeldt
Damian Thantrey, Mr Lindquist
Kate Valentine, Ms Nordstrom
Rachael Lloyd, Mrs. Anderssen
James Edwards, Mr Erlanson
Daphné Touchais, Ms Segstrom
Orchestre Philharmonique de Radio France
Jonathan Stockhammer, Direction
Lee Blakeley, Mise en scène
Rae Smith, Décors
Andrew George, Chorégraphie
Jo Van Schuppen, Costumes
Jenny Cane, Lumières
Rebecca Bottone, Anne Egerman
Lambert Wilson, Fredrik Egerman
Francesca Jackson, Petra
Greta Scacchi, Désirée
Nicholas Garrett, Comte Carl-Magnus Malcom,
Deanne Meek, Comtesse Charlotte Malcom
Celeste de Veazey, Fredrika Armfeldt
Leslie Caron, Madame Armfeldt
Damian Thantrey, Mr Lindquist
Kate Valentine, Ms Nordstrom
Rachael Lloyd, Mrs. Anderssen
James Edwards, Mr Erlanson
Daphné Touchais, Ms Segstrom
Orchestre Philharmonique de Radio France
Jonathan Stockhammer, Direction
Lee Blakeley, Mise en scène
Rae Smith, Décors
Andrew George, Chorégraphie
Jo Van Schuppen, Costumes
Jenny Cane, Lumières
Radio France - France Musique 42nd Street
"Later" Live Radio Studio Broadcast
"Now, Later, Soon" Act 1 Trio
"Week-end in the Country" Act 1 Finale
A Little Night Music, review Bittersweet soufflé is a delight. Rating: * * * * * By Rupert Christiansen
Published: 10:14AM GMT 18 Feb 2010
A Little Night Music
Le Théâtre du Châtelet, Paris
The long-standing French resistance to American musical comedy is crumbling, judged by the packed house and standing ovation which greeted the belated Parisian premiere of Stephen Sondheim’s 37-year-old A Little Night Music. Performed and staged by a largely British team in the august Théâtre du Châtelet, this ruefully wise disquisition on the wonders and follies of sexual love came up trumps. Graced with some of Sondheim’s most charming lyrics and richest melodies, as well as Hugh Wheeler’s cool and witty book, it’s got real heart without gushing sentiment. An outright masterpiece, in my book: I adore every minute of it.
Lee Blakeley’s fluent and unfussy production, designed by Rae Smith and Jo van Schuppen, is a match for the classic National Theatre version of 1996, and I guess that Sondheim’s presence at the curtain calls gives it the seal of approval. This is significant, in the light of Sondheim’s frequently voiced scepticism of attempts to move his work off Broadway and into an opera house: the Châtelet show replaced the pit band with the massed Orchestre Philharmonique de Radio France (affectionately conducted by Jonathan Stockhammer) and cast opera singers as well as boulevardiers. It could have misfired horribly – remember the Royal Opera’s stone-dead Sweeney Todd? – but instead it hit the bull’s eye.
All the performances are sharply etched and sympathetic. From the boulevards, Lambert Wilson makes a handsome and urbane Fredrik, Leslie Caron a less than monstrous Madame Armfeldt. Francesca Jackson stops the show with one of Sondheim’s greatest numbers, the maid Petra’s The Miller’s Son, while Celeste de Veazey is simply enchanting as the innocent teenager Fredrika. A late substitute for an injured Kristin Scott Thomas, Greta Scacchi is Desiree. She can’t sing for toffee, and unlike Judi Dench at the National Theatre, she doesn’t suggest the character’s remorseful inner life. But the resilient ebullience she radiates is entirely appropriate for a hardened old trouper, and I found her hugely likeable in the part.
The opera-based singers merge perfectly: there’s no hint of slumming, and they manage the dialogue consummately. Rebecca Bottone as the simpering Anne, David Curry as the gloomy Henrik, Nicholas Garrett as the chocolate-soldier Count and Deanne Meek as his Dorothy Parker-ish wife – all shine in their big and small moments. The waltzing Liebeslieder quintet is excellent, too. I only hope this deliciously bittersweet show finds a home across the Channel. How about at ENO?
Published: 10:14AM GMT 18 Feb 2010
A Little Night Music
Le Théâtre du Châtelet, Paris
The long-standing French resistance to American musical comedy is crumbling, judged by the packed house and standing ovation which greeted the belated Parisian premiere of Stephen Sondheim’s 37-year-old A Little Night Music. Performed and staged by a largely British team in the august Théâtre du Châtelet, this ruefully wise disquisition on the wonders and follies of sexual love came up trumps. Graced with some of Sondheim’s most charming lyrics and richest melodies, as well as Hugh Wheeler’s cool and witty book, it’s got real heart without gushing sentiment. An outright masterpiece, in my book: I adore every minute of it.
Lee Blakeley’s fluent and unfussy production, designed by Rae Smith and Jo van Schuppen, is a match for the classic National Theatre version of 1996, and I guess that Sondheim’s presence at the curtain calls gives it the seal of approval. This is significant, in the light of Sondheim’s frequently voiced scepticism of attempts to move his work off Broadway and into an opera house: the Châtelet show replaced the pit band with the massed Orchestre Philharmonique de Radio France (affectionately conducted by Jonathan Stockhammer) and cast opera singers as well as boulevardiers. It could have misfired horribly – remember the Royal Opera’s stone-dead Sweeney Todd? – but instead it hit the bull’s eye.
All the performances are sharply etched and sympathetic. From the boulevards, Lambert Wilson makes a handsome and urbane Fredrik, Leslie Caron a less than monstrous Madame Armfeldt. Francesca Jackson stops the show with one of Sondheim’s greatest numbers, the maid Petra’s The Miller’s Son, while Celeste de Veazey is simply enchanting as the innocent teenager Fredrika. A late substitute for an injured Kristin Scott Thomas, Greta Scacchi is Desiree. She can’t sing for toffee, and unlike Judi Dench at the National Theatre, she doesn’t suggest the character’s remorseful inner life. But the resilient ebullience she radiates is entirely appropriate for a hardened old trouper, and I found her hugely likeable in the part.
The opera-based singers merge perfectly: there’s no hint of slumming, and they manage the dialogue consummately. Rebecca Bottone as the simpering Anne, David Curry as the gloomy Henrik, Nicholas Garrett as the chocolate-soldier Count and Deanne Meek as his Dorothy Parker-ish wife – all shine in their big and small moments. The waltzing Liebeslieder quintet is excellent, too. I only hope this deliciously bittersweet show finds a home across the Channel. How about at ENO?
