Review: The Convict's Opera

Renowned British Director Max Stafford-Clarke has brought together the talent of two first-class theatre companies, The Sydney Theatre Company and UK group Out of Joint, in a boisterous tale based on events that have historically bound the two countries. The cast of 10 are equally drawn from both companies, and I must report that the British crew hold up well against the talent from Down Under!

Putting aside traditional nationalist jousting, though, full credit must be given to London-born playwright Stephen Jeffreys for this rollicking adaptation of The Beggar’s Opera. Jeffreys has been successfully involved with several UK companies and was Literary Associate at the Royal Court Theatre where his play The Libertine was written and performed. It was released in 2005 as a film starring Johnny Depp.

Like John Gay’s original, this adaptation is a play within a play. The setting is a transport ship bound for the convict colony of New South Wales — amazing how one swaying lamp can conjure the endless swell of ocean and incessant rocking of boat. Clever design by Dale Ferguson and Nick Schlieper.

Captain MacNaughton (Nicholas Goode) agrees to a request by William (Glenn Butcher), a fallen-from-grace actor, to rehearse a play on deck during the voyage to Botany Bay. William cadges a motley group of felons and fraudsters, rebels and tarts to join him by enticing them with a taste of fresh air, the lure of escape, and the promise of distraction from their tedium.

In the ‘play’, voluptuous wench Polly Peachum (Ali McGregor) falls in love and secretly marries notorious highwayman MacHeath (the abs-fabs Juan Jackson) to the chagrin of her Fagin-like father, Peachum (Brian Protheroe) and her harridan mother Mrs Peachum (Catherine Russell). Peachum and the equally criminal gaolkeeper Lockit (Peter Cousens) double-cross MacHeath and collect an informant’s reward.

The lusty Lucy Lockit (Amelia Cormack) is seduced and conned into assisting MacHeath to escape, but later realises she has been duped when she discovers the secret marriage. There is much ado, as you would expect in this genre, but eventually all is resolved.

On deck in between the ‘play’ rehearsals, another story is revealed — the adversities of poverty stricken victims of mid-industrial revolution, pre-sanitation England. Life before the notion of social welfare has gained any level of consciousness.

There are the stories of Filch (Thomas Eyre), a gentle country lad who is ripe pickings for the wiles and manipulations of wily shysters, and Diana Trapes (Karina Fernandez), a ‘political’ prisoner sentenced for her efforts to incite rebellion against the injustices of privilege and the status quo of British society.

And there are swipes at respectability, the clergy, and abuse of power. All good stuff that Gay would have applauded.

Catherine Russell’s dynamic and vibrant portrayal of the hoyden Mrs Peachum brought a vitality to the first half that was missed after the interval. The vivacious and frivolous caricature she presents while ‘in rehearsal’ heightens the contrast with her ‘real’ nature as the ferocious, toughened-by-experience, hardened old hag, Bett Rock. Her outfits highlighted the excellent work of Costume Designer Tess Schofield.

But most memorable of all is the music. The vocal quality of the entire cast, the instrumentation and arrangements, and the song selection are all exceptional in this performance. Congratulations to Musical Director Felix Cross and those who assisted him, and to the performers whose multi talents made it work so well.

For there is no orchestra in the pit, or band in the back. Instead, the cast interchange between instruments and dialogue. Sometimes they are centre stage, acting in their role as convict or performer in the little play the Captain hopes will avoid petty squabbling on board ship. At other times they are playing violin, keyboard, or drum. Sometimes they just use body and voice to provide rhythm and beat.

It is an impressive range of musical ability perfectly delivered to create a highly pleasurable sound experience.

Much of the comedy is supplied by the deliberate disjuncture of song and scene. For example when Polly visits MacHeath in prison, and launches into a heart-rending aria to the tune of Tammy Wynette’s Stand By Your Man. The audience’s mirth is clear testament to the amusement gleaned from this and other immediately recognisable classic hit songs.

I think John Gay would have been delighted with this polished adaptation, faithfully aligned to his original concept.

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