Sunday, 27 April 2014

George Clooney & Amal Alamuddin - I salute thee!

By Mary Grace Nguyen
Writing about celebrity news, particularly gossip, has never been my forte. Not that it doesn’t interest me, because it does by giving me tremendous satisfaction and reaffirmation that the glamorously rich and well-known have their flaws too! - but also that there isn’t much justification to prod and probe into celebrities lives (or anybody for that matter) unless it has consequences that affect others. However, news just in that George Clooney is engaged to a British human rights lawyers is a revolution for me, and probably a zillion Clooney fans out there.
Clooney has been the epitome and golden example of bachelorhood. Proudly has he flaunted himself in the media including TV interviews of his conviction and confidence of what he was: a bachelor without entitlement or devotion to one. In today’s society, relationships, sexual interests and behaviours have changed and diversified more than ever and bachelorhood is no substitute as it is just as acceptable. Clooney, as a good-looking older man, had only enhanced his status and sex appeal which made his bachelorhood easily agreeable.  Take for example, his recent commercial for Nespresso coffee where he approaches a lady who then screams to all the women on a roof bar that he was present. We know, and he actively knows, he is God’s gift (or nature’s gift if you're an agnostic or atheist,) to the world.
How can this be? He is a bachelor! He can’t be engaged! Can he even fall in love? Ok fine, maybe he can fall in love (with several women,) but who is she? Who is Amal Alamuddin? Are you ready? Drum roll please…
Well, she graduated from Oxford University, studied law at New York University School of Law and now specialises in human rights and international law in Doughty Street Chambers, London.  She has served as counsel to the inquiry for the UN on special rapporteur on counter-terrorism, advised Kofi Annan as well Syria to the UN Special Envoy. 
She is a legal adviser to the King of Bahrain and also represented Julian Assange, the WikiLeaks founder, in his battle against extradition to Sweden. Additionally she has represented clients before the International Criminal Court, the International Court of Justice and the European Court of Human Rights including domestic courts in the UK and US. 
If that isn’t a mouth full, there is more. She also manages to train judges, state officials and UN investigators on international criminal law and human rights and has trained police forces in the Gulf.  She has also contributed to many books on international criminal law, co-edited The Law and Practice of the Special Tribunal for Lebanon, and lectured at the University of North Carolina, The Hague Academy of International Law SOAS, The New School in New York and Chapel Hill. 
Phew, what a lady! I am sure she has done a lot more, but from these key points alone her career history sounds impeccable and being brutally honest, I am not surprised that Clooney has fallen for her I’ve fallen for her! I have always respected those who were career driven, have endeavours and goals - in any shape or form - that were humanitarian. (Please note this is not an opportunity for trolls to come in and burden me with their political views on Assange, the UN, Syria, Gulf or any of the above mentioned.)   
As the tabloids have expressed, Clooney saw interest in her focus of work within human rights inDarfur, which is perhaps where it may have ignited the spark, so to speak. The relationship was described as platonic years ago by his spokesperson but, that doesn’t seem to be the case now. :  )
Clooney was formally married to Talia Balsam which, ended in 1993. He claimed he wasn’t cut up for marriage thereafter (or something along those lines,) to then having a string of short term relationships with women including actresses and models. Yet, his situation and marital status has now transformed - he has a woman who has radically changed his worldview. 

Naturally, when I saw the tweet by LBC radio talk presenter, Julia Hartley-Brewer, that he was engaged I was curious and had to find out who the engagement was to. Now knowing what I know, I am actually happy for him and Miss Alamuddin, soon to be Mrs. Clooney (unless she decides to keep her name.) Not that my consent will make any difference, but I completely approve and as a fan of Clooney’s looks and charms, I salute thee.
May I add Amal is only 36! I am not referring to the age gap but, I am referring to how much she has achieved at 36. Brava! She is definitely up there with Michelle Obama.

Sunday, 20 April 2014

**** See Thatcher and the Queen have tea and scones in the Tri-Cycle's comedic production of 'Handbagged' at the West End's Vaudeville Theatre ****

It is the queen’s priority to be as politically neutral, wary of her government ministerial advice but not let her opinion be known if she does not agree. The Prime minister, Thatcher in our case, must respect and acknowledge the sovereign’s opinion irrespective of whether it clashes with her political agenda.  Yet putting principles aside, these influential women could have had a relationship of a more comical and endearing hue as shown by Moira Buffini at the Vaudeville Theatre. 

Indhu Rubashingham’s original tri-cycle production of ‘Handbagged’ is an imagination of the young Queen and Mags having private and awkward conversation over tea and scones, which prove to be a surprisingly unthreatening event. Despite what history may have portrayed, Buffini puts media spin on its head and reveals a personal side to the iconic ladies through four actresses on stage, the Queen (Marion Bailey,) Thatcher (Steller Gonet,) Liz (Lucy Robinson,) and Mags (Fenella Woolgar.) 

‘Handbagged’ is a giggling political farce where Richard Kent’s golden jubilee inspired stage fits a party of both the older and younger figures reflecting on past secrets kept hidden from the world, ‘I didn’t say that’ or  ‘I definitely said that.’ Mags (Woolgar) would look sternly to the audience and state her conservative ideology as if she were at the Houses of Parliament and Liz (Robinson) would sheepishly sink into her seat and admit she is tuning out. Bailey as queen, would then have a moan and tantrum requesting an interval because ‘it’s the best part of the play’ seconds before Thatcher (Gonet) begins to explore her second term as Prime minister. 

Although comedic, the script manages to handle controversial claims on their differing opinions particularly on the commonwealth, policies of the British government including apartheid and the miners' strike. This is where much-needed actors like Neet Mohan and Jeff Rawle come in, breaking down chunky and often contentious political subjects. They play multiple characters with a mini sub plot between them regarding which characters to act and which not to which include a Neil Kinnock battle on his ‘I warn you’ speech. 

Mohan plays a palace footman, Kenneth Kaunda, Enoch Powell, Kenneth Clarke, a protester, Michael Shea, and Nancy Regan, which is his boldest impersonation. He wears chic lipstick, is ‘handbagged’ and struts in heels. Jeff Rawle manages to keep his composure in 10 character roles including Dennis Thatcher, Ronald Regan, Lord Peter Carrington, Gerry Adams and Michael Heseltine through a northern Irish accent, American accent, cockney accent, posh accent and a parody imitation of Prince Philip. When interviewed he told me, ‘it’s fraught with disaster, especially coming on with the wrong hat or forgetting your glasses.’

‘Handbagged’ encapsulates over 11 years of Thatcher’s service in less than 2 hours. It will make theatregoers laugh until they cry. It is meant for everyone as the historical events, government figures and humorous jokes are all too familiar. The script is just right which is why ‘Handbagged’ does not fail to show a funnier and unintimidating side to politics. 

‘We Kill Pimps’ at the Barons Court Theatre ***

It is like watching a final cut of a play where all the action and suspense is over and the only thing left is the conclusion - the deed of killing pimps. We have two average ladies on set but they are covert assassins. Justine is cast by Beth Granville, known for appearing on television’s ‘Gavin and Stacey’ and Beverley, is played by Alys Daroy who played Fleur Simpson from ‘Home and Away.’ 

The set is their hide away, a bunker, to dwell over their murders and dreams but not the type that Freud would analyse. Justine is talking about dreams of what to do after they have received their commission. A trip abroad is top of her list.

Playwright of ‘We Kill Pimps,’ Alistair McClure, gives us a sprinkle of the mindset of killers on the run but there is nothing James Bond about it. It is simply two killers having a troubled dialogue. It is Lara Croft meets ‘The only way is Essex’ without the men. It’s an odd combination but somehow the script manages to capture the audience’s attention with some interesting lines and profanities including, 'God is a c***'.

There are moments they reenact some of their assassinations in a very non-serious way however this is often mixed in with bizarre acting such as Justine wailing like moody child demanding Beverley give her cranberry juice because she thinks she had cystitis. Beverley chucks her a box of paracetamol from Superdrug to which Justine replies, ‘bitter’ after some improvised gagging.

Justine dressed in a hoodie, pair of tracksuit bottoms with a copy of heat magazine in her bag, is the main energy on set. She has the funniest lines and does the oddest things that a young lady questioning her adolescence would. She would speak to her cuddly toy called Britney Spears and have a mini mime with a gun in her hand, leaning by the wall and pretending she is being chased. By who, only Justine knows.

Beverley, on the other hand is a bag of nerves trembling as she somehow creates an alarm for unwelcomed guests out of empty cans and bangles. Her stumbling words and stern expression makes her uninteresting compared to nut case Justine.  She elaborates on her nightmares and speaks openly about her paranoia.

Yet, on the contrary, both of them are just as paranoid and as untrustworthy as each other as they steal each others bullets. Justine’s justification is that she needs all of the money and with both of their guns at each other, realising they have no bullets left, Justine grabs a frying pan and tries to suffocate her. ‘Death by frying pan,’ ‘are you kidding me?’

The minimalist dim set suffices for a simple script. ‘We kill Pimps’ although good to watch did not give an audience a lesson. Perhaps a better setting which allows the characters to move around and give them air to breathe would complement such a succinct script.

Friday, 18 April 2014

Grassroots' Othello warrants a position in the West End, which so happens to take place on his 450th birthday *****

There are so many things to learn from Shakespeare. But Grassroots’ Siobhan Daly alludes to one of the most important lessons - the human soul and its fragility - in her production of Othello at the Leicester Square Theatre. With subtle sounds orchestrated by Tom Barnes, simple lights directed by Andy Peregrine and rich coloured fabrics that instill Venetian nobility and imagination by Rachael Vaughan and Suzi Lombardelli, much vision and craft can flourish in such intimate settings.   

Nari Blair-Mangat’s dramatic illustration of a young and good Othello tarnished by eating the fruits of Iago’s (James Alexandrou) words and tempting concoctions drive him into a pit of insane hell. Alexandrou’s plays a cool-under-pressure Iago sure of his deeds and intentions under a looming red light as he softly and slowly quotes Iago’s most famous soliloquys. He manages to retain east London characteristics as Eastenders’ Martin Fowler yet with keeping his boyish attributes at bay he successfully plays the most dangerous character. Iago is without a doubt a favorite villain not only for his Machiavelli cunningness and power to control the fate of feeble innocents but his undeniable tendency to make an audience question human evils and capability; can we plant the seed of manipulation to take life including one’s own? 

Blair-Mangat’s Othello however, is extraordinary. He is the most aggressive and maddest hothead but this does not put him at a disadvantage. Valiant and noble as the ‘moor’ must be, this lighthearted and loving husband is a sweet honeymoon bloom whose fortune is undermined by his naivety and gullibility. Blair-Mangat’s portrayal highlights an insecurity silently killing Othello as he tells the audience, ‘she loved me for the dangers I had pass'd, and I loved her that she did pity them.’

If Shakespeare were alive today this would be how he wanted it to be. Iago the frighteningly clever psychopath and Othello the easily swayed captain who regresses into a sickly and mentally unstable maniac. One may even say that Blair-Mangat’s Othello takes on another shade, a paranoid husband who believes he does not deserve the love from Desdemona, (Annabel Bates) the Venetian senator’s daughter.

Bates’ displays a pitiful and cherubic Desdemona whose unfortunate simplicity makes her submissively obedient to her jealous lover. Roderigo, (Adam Blampied) is Iago’s sad sideline but Cassio, (Boris Mitkov) is the complete antithesis as the handsome charming soldier who regards Othello highly.

Emily Jane Kerr was most notable for her embodiment of Emilia in the final scene showing the audience what a truthful best friend looks like. And Jim Conway’s version of Brabantio is ruthless. You would not want to mess with him nor his sword.

Shakespeare theatre is not dramatic unless its makes an audience engaged, gasping and introspecting the human condition and Daly’s Othello effectively does this. Othello can be produced in various ways but Grassroots ‘re-vitalised, re-imagined and re-examined’ work warrants a position in the West End as part of Shakespeare’s legacy, which so happens to take place on his 450th birthday.

Sunday, 6 April 2014

London Mondays and TFL Commuting - The best thing since trains were invented

London is a depressing place on a Monday morning especially during the commuting rush hour. In fact, it is like that every single weekday besides Friday when the weekend begins. Yet back to reality, let’s face it, Monday is a Mundane start to the week. Even from looking outside the window to a grey expanse of cloudiness, it’s all too daunting to open our eyes let alone get out of bed. You can see the grey discolor through your white lace curtains. There is no sight of hope; there is no sun.
The worst luck is when it is raining and freezing outside. The sky is black like pure darkness as if it were the apocalypse. ‘Why must I go to work? Oh, I forgot because I need to pay for a trip out of here that is ideally hot, has tropical palm trees growing everywhere, white sand, ocean and pina coladas!’ As you close your eyes and envision your quick espresso as a shot of tequila your eyes go into a 0.5 second sleep. But suddenly you snore yourself out of never never land, look at the clock and dash to leave your house dressed as passable as someone picking up milk from the local. As you grab your jacket, you stop and stare at your umbrella. Will it rain today or not? Shall I bother bringing that massive unneccesity that gives me strife to my muscles and does no justice to my fashion sense? As a Londoner, you are patriotic and do as the rest of the race does; walk out without it and it’s a good thing it isn’t raining… yet.
Central London is a feisty place where life is ‘nasty, brutish and short.’ Ensure you had brought your invisible cosmopolitan helmet. Everyone is out to get each other. The station welcomes everyone: suits, nice suits, ugly suits, saville row suits, artsy teenagers, receptionists, librarians, musicians (the people who have ear muffs for headphones and turn their music up for the train to hear,) multi-coloured Spanish tourists in groups of a hundred and stand in your way. The list goes on. Train stations or even bus stops are mini airports where everyone is off to different destinations and you could not give a damn who they were because you didn’t even finish your espresso and are up against millions of people on the platform or street to grab an available seat, or so it seems.
There is no queue structure for Londoners. ‘It’s a first come, first serve’ type of situation and you lose out if you don’t muster the strength to use your bottom to nick a seat before the biggest bottom. Commuters stack themselves up against the door even when the train hasn’t stopped. As soon as the doors open, it’s a rugby scrum. Someone hits someone on the head with their briefcase, (which is usually me because I am short,) and a brutal body bashing like a resilient ping pong game ensues. The announcement says ‘please let passengers off first please’ but to h*** with it! 
Everyone is either of the belief that their punctual presence at work will give them brownie points and a good reference from their boss when they quit, or that if they don’t get in on time, there will be no free fruit left in the fruit bowl which is usually provided for the company office.
Unfortunately the last person as part of the stack is usually you and the last feral looking passengers who have entered have turned around facing the door trying to make a stand – ‘Do not enter.’ It’s a cutthroat world out there and you have got to do what you got to do.  Here is my  technique, which has got me so far in life and loathed at the same time. Irrespective, it will get a place you on the train. Read carefully. Whilst on the platform, turn around and face the wall of the platform and take one step backwards onto the train. Ensure your bag is behind your ass to ensure you don't give any passenger behind you an exciting journey, push back and there you have it. ‘Out of sight, out of mind’ and you will usually hear a hissing in the back of your ear, but that’s just a common hazard.
The feel and smell of coffee breathe and yawning makes other passengers realize someone needs listerine on top on their colgate because it is not doing them any services. It is as they say like, ‘a tin of sardines’ and although packed, there is at least enough space for you to breath- air, perfume or someone’s bodily perfume. Ew! No one is comfortable as a bag maybe pushing onto someone’s groin, or someone’s back might be leaning onto his or her back. The safety poles are usually overtaken with clammy hands with no available space for others to hold onto. If all else fails, there is no alternative, but depend on the passengers surrounding you, north, south, east and west, to be your cushion in the face of an instant brake situation, which is comical. People flying onto each other and strangers grabbing each other’s clothes to support them, yet we are British after all and never forget to say ‘sorry’ to those we accidently use their boobs to break our fall. Well, most normal people do!
The train journey isn’t a fast one. It stops and moves as if the driver is letting a mouse cross the rails, which is all the time. And no matter what TFL is the most unreliable thing since trains were invented. Passengers will want to check their mobile to look out for any interesting texts, but its in the bottom of their bag and their current position does not allow for them bend down as it may offend and most definitely annoy the person(s) next to them.
Don’t be surprised if someone faints in the claustrophobic cage as they grab the emergency leaver making everyone even more happier giving them an excuse to be late for work, not! We hate London's rush hour because it means being on a crowded train with unclean, smelly, sweaty human beings.
You can bet your money you will be late for work but your manager will still blame you, which is not worth the torment. I would highly advice anyone (including myself) to leave the house an hour beforehand, but we never listen. London Commute service: Keep Calm, Jog on!

Saturday, 5 April 2014

Scrawny Cat Theatre Company - Rose Theatre - Shakespeare's Richard III ****

By Mary Grace Nguyen
Richard III is about blood spill and a tragedy amongst the monarchy. Key themes like death and treachery of Shakespeare’s own Macbeth come to mind and with direction from Charlotte Ive of the Scrawny Cat Theatre Company only a small but unique presentation of Richard III is to be expected.
On a small stage overseeing the pit and courtyard of the original Rose theatre, the audience look onto a wooden stage with what looks like a black robe with a hand made metal crown and arm. Already the atmosphere is ominous. Jackets, satchels, cloths, and hats of different colours hang on the side and it is only 4 actresses, Rosemary Tross, Charley Willow, Victoria Allies and Marie Rabe who are left to demystify a condensed (90 minute) version of Richard III.
Dressed like Shakespeare himself with 15th century cavalry boots and white-laced blouses the actresses manage to play 20-30 roles seamlessly by putting on clothes and taking off clothes in a quick and snappy pace. The stage is a fast moving one with hats and satchels being thrown at each other to be on cue for the next character. No one is Richard and no one is Lady Anne. The actresses play everyone and this is what makes the play even more interesting as it is almost like a teasing guessing game encouraging the audience to ask, who will play Richard next?  
Ive’s production is a refreshing take on Shakespeare but not one for a passive audience. There are dynamic interactions, movements and quick changes into characters that an attentive viewer must listen and look out for. Noticing the change in voice and change in personality is tough but surprisingly these actresses pull it off considering the constraints and challenges of being in a play with no intervals or scenery changes. Also, Elizabeth Graham’s sorrowful singing added enough atmosphere to suggest the gloom of Richard III in a dark lit theatre proving that good theatre can be made by a handful of artistic people.
Particular scenes with great talent include Allies and Rabe showing the audience four characters at the same time with the help of Jo Lakin’s puppets. From Richard and Buckingham to two high-pitched young princes, one could tell it was not an easy job learning all those lines but successfully executed it without confusion or mistakes.
Other interesting scenes included Willow’s conniving and seductive Richard whilst trying to win over Rabe’s interpretation of an innocent and ‘puppy eye’ Lady Anne. Tross’ representation of an anxious and paranoid Richard in the final act dwelling over the array of souls he's murdered is so woeful that is it almost sympathetic.
Little is known about the Rose theatre (1587), but given its current condition of being under construction, presented with red rope lights indicating a pit and courtyard, it is not at an optimum state to show what it is fully capable of.
Once a center stage for Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus, Shakespeare’s Henry VI and Titus Andronicus as a fifth purpose-built theatre in what was once one of London’s most attractive area for the underworld (of brothels, gaming dens and bull/bear- baiting arenas,) it was overtaken by the popular theatres, the Swan (1595) and the Globe (1599) and eventually abandoned. However, it was discovered again in 1989 during a site clearance and re-development project, which leaves us with a theatre reviving itself from the rubble.  

Ive asks us to consider who was Richard III besides the obvious, ‘notorious villain, child murderer, hated despot’ but there is little to sway our mind. Richard was the lowest of low - A spiteful and ruthless king. How the 4 actresses portrayed him mattered very little to the audience. As the play progressed and Richard's character was played in different guises, the audience learnt to despise Richard more and more. "A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse!" is a significant quote as Richard's last dying words in the play. As Patroclus would say in Shakespeare’s play 'Troilus and Cressida', I say Good riddance!

Wednesday, 2 April 2014

**** Prince Igor - A spiritual Russian opera about war, dignity, sorrow and sexual divide - Review - London Coliseum - April 2014


You are in a history class when you watch ‘Prince Igor.’ Consider the current situation with President Putin and the diplomatic crisis. Before Crimea belonged to modern Ukraine its lands and borders, according to 'Prince Igor', were Russian, which proves that today's political upheaval is in fact an ongoing argument which spans from the 12th century. 

For the first time, Moscow's own Novaya Opera Company is currently performing, Alexander Borodin’s ‘Prince Igor' at the London Coliseum. It is based on a poem written anonymously named, ‘The Tale of Igor’s Campaign’ (1185 – 1187.) It tells the story of Prince Novgorod Seversky, Igor Svyatoshalvich and his defeated Russian army by the Polovtsy. Music Critic, V.V. Stasov encouraged Borodin, the chemist and music composer, to write an opera to which he thought was ‘terribly to his liking.’ Unfortunately, Borodin died before he could finish his masterpiece, which was completely by friends, Glazunov and Rimysky-Korsakov. It was first performed in 1890 at St. Petersburg.

Last night, the audience was drawn into another world, Prince Igor’s (Sergey Artamov) glorious Russia where religious omens and Christianity dominate. The opera is mythical and evidently spiritual not only from the music of Borodin and his choice of chorus but the many peculiar details that make a neatly choreographed performance from the peasants dances, standing formations and overall stage direction. A lingering 'old man' messiah that dwells on Igor's psyche also plays a big part. 

One would think the opera would hone in on royal Russian ambition, valour and honour but instead it is about a sad, despairing and anxious Prince who cries over the loss of his love and the fate of his people. Artamonov sung the beautiful aria, ‘Neither Sleep, nor rest for a tormented soul,’ which last night's captivated audience empathised with. Although, Artamonov did not sing as much as Elena Popovskaya, Prince Igor’s wife, Yaroslavna, there was an essence in his voice that identified a good and noble Prince dedicated to his country and proved to be an outstanding performance.

Popovskaya, was the sorrowful beating heart of the performance. She bestowed a strong spirited woman of Russia who even in the face of adversity stood unshaken. Yaroslavna who also suffers separation from her  Igor conveyed an unconditional love with 5 dancers behind a misty screen as she sung her aria ‘Oh, I weep’ in the final act. Popovskaya’s manages to create her own unique version of Yaroslavna and introduced an enthralling aria to add to any romantic's opera playlist. Prince Igor’s son, Vladimir (Aleksey Tatarintsev) and Konchak’s daughter, Konchakovna (Agunda Kulaeva) also give us a tasteful and passionate love duet to a starry sky in Act 2.

However, a big theme that may have caused grievance among feminists in the theatre was the misogyny and aggression towards women. The two traitors, and Gudok players, Skula (Anatoly Grigoriev) and Yeroshka (Maksim Ostroukhov) played an interesting duo as they dressed differently and sung differently which unfortunately made a bad pair of voices when it came to cheering on their debauched Prince, Galich (Dmitry Orlov.) Orlov gave a good impersonation and was not afraid to show us an alcoholic chauvinist who enjoyed kidnapping women and physically abusing them. This entailed the wine splashed on his face by Popovskaya after several attempts of making incestuous advances on her - his sister. 

Besides the mockery of women, there is another moral theme that overshadows the story, which includes Konchak (Vladimir Kudashev) kindness and warm welcoming to Prince Igor as a guest - not a captive. Despite friendship, peace and all niceties (fruits, hats, coats and women) offered, Igor still turns Konchak down adamant to conquer Polovtsy even if defeated. Yet Igor is a symbol of suffering and wallows over his present defeat and goes into a drunken frenzy as he collapses on the floor. On the opposing side, Kudashev who made his entrance via chariot and the shoulders of men sung with a presence deserving of lavish gold and black fur vestments like any successful Polovtsian king should. His people make a fuss over him as they dance and run around glorifying his name to the Polovtsian dance scene - an exciting form of divertissement that was the pièce de résistance of the evening.  Here his army of men gathered and jumped together in dark knight armor, his belly dancers were seductive, the veiled slave women were exotic and the entire stage raised their arms to praise him like a god.

With big brassy music including polovtsian traditional dance, period costumes and a large ensemble of 160 players, 120 chorus singers and 63 soloists, it would be a shame to miss out on this opera given that is rarely shown in the UK. Prince Igor is about the orient, the barbaric, the struggle of love and war. Yet there is also a historical sweet solitude encompassed in this Russian opera. The optimism shown through Borodin's romantic arias are breathtaking even if the opera is based on a gloomy war.

Yuri Alexandrov, producer of the opera wanted to focus on the spiritual aspects. He said: “Igor is a man who suffers and who, by suffering, atones for his sin. That is one of the most important ideas of the production. We have forgotten how to repent and acknowledge our mistakes.” The opera left the audience inspired last night. Some humming the chorus, 'Glory to the beautiful sun,’ as they exited the auditorium yet due to the deliberate removal of act 3 in most 'Prince Igor' performances, not just in Novaya Opera, the finale remains disappointing. What was the aftermath of Vladimir and Konkhan's daughter's relationship and what was Prince Galich's fate?  Many questions are left unanswered and it is perhaps the challenge of another production to step up and attempt to fill in the gaps.  

Hear 'Prince Igor' - Andjey Beletsky as Prince Igor - The Kolobov Novaya Opera Theatre of Moscow Russia