Excited and looking forward to an inspiring theatrical event I took my seat at the Sydney Theatre. Bewildered and lost in the stars I left. What happened here?

Let me recollect. There was a shift made boxing ring. Aha, so we were in for a number with boxing gloves. There was a security guard, complete with revolver, who every now and then lowered the front rope to let the protagonists come closer to the ramp. Aha, so the boxing ring symbolized the fourth wall. There was a woman singing Mack the knife. She then takes over the role of a ring announcer, a bishop and finally Jenny. There were little monkeys and even a gorilla. There was a lot of Grand Guignol make up. Aha, Michael Kantor is of Ubu Roi fame.

There was a set as bulky and incomprehensible as an oversized oil freighter. There were costumes as loud as in Dick Tracey. Finally, yet importantly, there was music as sticky as maple syrup. And yes, there was a conductor using a little red pencil as his baton. So what is there to be so angry about? The suicide bomber? Tiger Brown incarnating to Stan Laurel? Jenny aka ring announcer, aka bishop, aka Paul Capsis? What is wrong here?

First of all, the music. To arrange a Weill score is always tough. Even for acclaimed classical guru Richard Gill and his little red pencil. In this case, the result is devastating. Lost is the sharpness, the wit, the humour and foremost the unbeatable rhythm of the original score. This version sounds more like the Broadway Kurt Weill than the aggressive and upfront Berlin Weill. Weill never was happy about the fact of having to adapt his musical style to a more consumable and producer driven sound in New York.

Secondly, the set. The boxing ring actually has no obvious function at all. One would expect that something would change when the rope is lowered and the actors leave the ring to get even closer to the audience. Therefore, it is more a hindrance for the flow of the show than a statement one could comprehend. Then there is the bulkiness of the set, mostly positioned, dangerously close, to the stage ramp and leaving no room to breathe for the actors. Too often, they are pinned to the wall like butterflies. This set only works once. At the end, when MacHeath finally shows how brilliant this evening could have been!

Thirdly, Michael Kantor’s direction. His inability to create a compact style is surprising. Is it a burlesque? Is it cabaret? Is it a comic strip? Is it a farce? No, it is just all over the place!

I am by no means a Brechtian. In 2011, it is adequate to transfer the play to wherever an audience can spot its own reality. It was Brecht’s own conclusion that THE THREEPENNY OPERA would have its place on stage as long a creative team finds the marriage between entertaining an audience while still being confronting and addressing the truth uncompromised.

Raimondo Cortese’s adaptation is agreeable and the lyrics by Jeremy Sams make sense. Both, Cortese and Sams, show that they have enough talent under their belts to create their very own version of John Gay’s BEGGARS OPERA. Sure, they probably would not be allowed to use the music by Kurt Weill or just a hint of Berthold Brecht’s text and lyrics. Then what? With Brecht’s texts, it is like with Weill’s music. Adapting it, or trying to better it, will water it down and result in confusion. If one changes the original love duet between Polly and Macheath it will change the character of Polly from a sly brat to a sweet and unknowing girl. ‘And even if there is no paper from the registry office’, she sings in the original. Polly is very aware of the fact that her wedding is a sham and has no legality. Not so in this adaption. The original lyrics are precise, confronting, spot on and timeless. There is no need to change them. They are stand-alone. Full stop!

There is one thing that kept me in my seat. The Ensemble. All fabulous artists in their own rights. However, they are forced to follow Kantor’s vision and are therefore robbed of their true talents at times. Grant Smith and Amanda Muggleton as Mr and Mrs Peachum execute their parts as if they were borrowed from a Webber or Schoenberg musical to supply the comic relief. Their costumes are so shrill and loud that one hardly understands what they have to say. Less would have been more!

Luke Joslin is Filch, the beggar turned suicide bomber. He has to cover Peachum’s beggar brigade as a one-man band. Jolyon James’s Tiger Brown is reduced to a dumbo and is finally allowed to disappear in this dubious gorilla suit.

Dimity Shepherd is brilliant as Lucy and shines in THE ARIA OF LUCY. She has one of the moments where you think, everything could have been good! Lucy Maunder as Polly is condemned to sweetness and would have had so much more to give. Eddie Perfect howls and growls, screams and cries with immaculate timing and no end in sight. He is Macky Perfect. He is a revelation. Go and see him!

And the there is Paul Capsis. At times, he wonders across the stage as if he was a lost child. Lost in translation and lost in the stars. Capsis is an artist, one of Australia’s brightest shining stars. This is not his finest hour!

With all this said, I still recommend seeing this production. It is a bumpy ride but worth the effort.

Michael Kantor’s of THE THREEPENNY OPERA opened at the Sydney Theatre on Saturday 3rd September and runs until Saturday 24th September, 2011.

© Markus Weber
6th September, 2011