Saturday 20 June

To Linz by plane and train

Linz, Musiktheater

This local, German-language production of Bernstein and Comden & Green’s Wonderful Town proved every bit as enjoyable as previous Linz productions. The set occasionally betrayed budget constraints, but the wink to the Fifth Avenue Coach Company was a nice touch. The Bruckner Orchester Linz (!) was on fire, and the comic momentum never flagged… in no small part thanks to a larger-than-life performance by Sarah Schütz, a worthy Germanic counterpart to Rosalind Russell or Donna Murphy.

Sunday 21 June

Back to Paris by train and plane

Paris, UGC Maillot

Steven Spielberg remains a master of staging large-scale spectacle. However, both the script and the visual grammar for Disclosure Day felt like a haphazard mismatch of regurgitated ideas drawn from his own canon — or from others’. Thankfully, the A-list cast injected much-needed psychological tension into what very nearly turned into a bland gumbo.

Monday 22 June

Paris, UGC Maillot

Steven Soderbergh’s The Christophers relied so intensely on the chemistry between its two main characters — including the formidable and seemingly eternal Ian McKellen — that it almost came across as theatrical rather than cinematic fare. The screenplay’s predictability was balanced by the elegance of its prose. Seeing James Corden as the scheming, ungrateful son added to my enjoyment.

Wednesday 24 June

Paris, Théâtre du Rond-Point

Thomas Bernhard borrowed the title of his play Über allen Gipfeln ist Ruh from Goethe’s Wandrers Nachtlied, also set to music by Schubert and used by Georges Perec and Eugen Helmlé for a radiophonic experiment. Jean-François Sivadier’s French-language adaptation, titled Tout est calme dans les hauteurs, proved to be a feast of dark irony and biting satire. Nicolas Bouchaud laid bare the monstrous nature of the overbearing, pontificating, self-quoting author, surrounded by a posse of clueless sycophants, all blissfully unaware of their responsibilities to history and art.

And so, for now, the lights dim… until the next act.

Saturday 13 June

To Vienna by train

Vienna, Musikverein

The Wiener Philharmoniker’s 10th Abonnementkonzert distinguished itself through its unusual choice of repertoire. None of the works on the programme could be described as concert staples, and the fact that the orchestra did not rely on routine made the performances captivating — especially in the Poulenc.

Vienna, Musikverein (later)

I wasn’t convinced Schumann’s Das Paradies und die Peri would hold my interest, and indeed I often found myself observing the many performers who crammed the limited stage of the Musikverein to avoid drifting away. Some of the more expressionistic pages nevertheless caught me by surprise, and I ultimately found exaltation in the luminous, rapturous finale.

Sunday 14 June

Back to Paris by plane

Two major institutions devoted to contemporary art now stand a short distance apart in the very centre of Paris. The Bourse du Commerce – Pinault Collection opened in 2021 after architect Tadao Andō transformed the site with his usual flair. I focused my short visit on the current exhibition in the rotunda, one of Japanese artist Fujiko Nakaya’s “fog sculptures,” an intoxicating, immersive sensory experiment called Cloud #07156. Minutes away, the Fondation Cartier pour l’Art contemporain had just relocated into the historic building of Le Louvre des Antiquaires, stunningly reïmagined by Jean Nouvel, who anchored it firmly in the site’s history and opened it up to its surroundings. The opening exhibition, meant to convey the breadth of the foundation’s endeavours, offered a varied selection of works and demonstrated the galleries’ versatility through their ingenious system of mobile floors.

Tuesday 16 June

Paris, Théâtre des Champs-Élysées

I regularly test my love-and-hate relationship with baroque music by attending the occasional concert, this one prompted by the appeal of Pergolesi’s Stabat Mater and the pleasure of benefiting from my friend K.’s encyclopaedic knowledge of all things historically informed. I spent most of the evening brutally bored, even during the Stabat Mater, which managed to be not funereal enough and painfully slow at the same time. When voices and instruments resonate so briefly, there is no excuse for languid tempos. A brief encore demonstrated that, at the right pace, the mood set in naturally. Thankfully, my brain rescued itself from boredom by spending a good portion of the performance trying to remember the name of the theorbo.

Thursday 18 June

Paris, Auditorium de Radio France

At the end of this uneven performance — which only took off during the symphony — Michel Orier, Radio France’s Director of Music, bestowed the title of Conductor Emeritus upon a visibly glowing Riccardo Muti, nearly 85 years old, and probably a little too proud that he can still walk to the podium unaided. Muti, however, spoke from the heart when reminiscing about his 45-year relationship with the orchestra, which Orier described as a compagnonnage — a long-standing artistic fellowship. Muti also made touching remarks about two musicians retiring that very evening, including the outstanding flautist Michel Moraguès. When a musician retires, part of their legacy remains embedded in the orchestra’s sound and personality.

Friday 19 June

Paris, Théâtre de la Ville • Pessoa – Since I’ve Been Me

I’d picked up a little book of Portuguese poetry while in Lisbon a few months ago. Fernando Pessoa, of course, was prominently featured, with pronouncements like:

It seemed only fitting that a visual poet like Robert Wilson should want to place his own imagination in dialogue with Pessoa’s. While rooted in Wilson’s by now familiar visual grammar, the production displayed enough originality to avoid the sense of déjà vu characteristic of many of his operatic stagings. By featuring Pessoa’s heteronyms, Wilson emphasised the fractal nature of the poet’s imagination, with its recurring patterns and abysses of self-reference.

And so, for now, the lights dim… until the next act.

To Duisburg by plane

Duisburg, once arguably Europe’s steel capital, has reinvented itself without turning its back on its industrial past. The lovely promenade along the Innenhafen (Inner Harbour) illustrates the city’s ever-present commitment to its heritage. The Museum Küppersmühle für Moderne Kunst (MKM), a former grain mill and storage facility strikingly repurposed by Herzog & de Meuron, houses a formidable collection of modern and contemporary art. It is but one example of Duisburg’s commitment to the arts, alongside the numerous outdoor sculptures that enrich the urban landscape.

Duisburg, Theater Duisburg • A production of On the Town by Deutsche Oper am Rhein, a partnership between Duisburg and nearby Düsseldorf, struck many right notes. Even though some references (Gimbels, Goodbye Mr. Chips) are probably unsalvageable for modern audiences, the creative team skilfully honoured the distinctive charms of Comden & Green’s book, which so uniquely captures the gossamer yet lively atmosphere of 1944 New York City as the three sailors roam its streets in search of Miss U-Bahn before returning to a presumably less fancy-free life. The cast and orchestra mostly rose to the demands of Leonard Bernstein’s score, even managing a swing factor that often eludes European performers. In spite of a few questionable choices — Ozzie’s moustache, having Hildy chase Chip on her taxi while it seemed to drive itself, casting a man in drag as Lucy, injecting some anachronistic references into the staging of “Some Other Time” — I let myself be drawn into this tender celebration of the sweet ephemerality of time a-fleeting.

Sunday 7 June

Back to Paris by plane

Paris, UGC Maillot • Antonin Baudry’s L’Âge de fer, the first instalment of his La Bataille De Gaulle diptych, strongly impressed me with its sharp construction, visual mastery and deliciously manipulative soundtrack. Whatever liberties may have been taken with historical accuracy, the titanic confrontation between Simon Abkarian’s De Gaulle and Simon Russell Beale’s Churchill formed the film’s dramatic centre, while its unashamedly epic scenes demonstrated cinematic chops rarely seen in French films.

Tuesday 9 June

Paris, UGC Maillot • Pedro Almodóvar’s Amarga Navidad felt even more personal than his previous films, a contemplation on the boundaries between art and life, seemingly more than coincidentally reminiscent of Fellini’s 8½. While some may feel anger or frustration at the script’s cryptic, open-ended denouement, I embraced the typical Almodovarian ingredients: seemingly banal characters elevated into larger-than-life personas, to whom the camera appears to be making love. The fine soundtrack by Alberto Iglesias supplied just the right amount of melodrama, complete with distinct Douglas Sirk overtones.

Wednesday 10 June

Paris, Philharmonie de Paris · Klaus Mäkelä led the Orchestre de Paris in a programme combining Taste of Metal, a contemporary symphony by fellow Finn Sauli Zinovjev, and two late-19th century masterpieces that share the distinction of not having been attributed opus numbers: Schumann’s Violin Concerto (with Isabelle Faust as soloist) and Tchaikovsky’s Romeo and Juliet. Mäkelä approached all three scores with the same unabashed romanticism, making the programme feel far more coherent than it looked on paper. The magic worked again, resulting in a performance that was enthusiastic, luxuriant, and intoxicatingly uplifting. I left the hall feeling buoyed by the kind of energy that only transcendent art can provide.

Thursday 11 June

Paris, Auditorium de Radio France · At the helm of the Orchestre National de France, Cristian Măcelaru curated a fascinating dialogue between the music of Elgar (the Cello Concerto, with Kia Soltani, as well as excerpts from The Dream of Gerontius) and contemporary works by Anna Clyne and Thierry Escaich — including a piece for solo organ, played by Alma Bettencourt, who later joined the orchestra for Gerontius. The experience was never less than absorbing. Măcelaru and Soltani brought out the extraordinary lyrical lushness of Elgar, while the contemporary pieces wittily balanced playfulness and ambition.

Friday 12 June

To Klagenfurt by plane and train

Klagenfurt, Stadttheater · Klagenfurt’s Stadttheater traditionally rounds off its seasons with ambitious productions of musicals, making use of the combined forces of the theatre’s musicians, actors, singers and dancers. This Hello, Dolly! didn’t disappoint. The nearly 30-strong orchestra played Phil Lang’s glorious charts with the same love and respect they would bestow upon a Wagner score — and I found myself overcome with emotion hearing the flute counterpoints and the orchestral buildup of “Put On Your Sunday Clothes.” The leading cast, led by the formidable Carin Filipčić as Dolly and the hilarious Tim Grobe as Horace, showed themselves experts at comedy, relying on broad characterisations and sustained, impeccable timing.

And so, for now, the lights dim… until the next act.

Saturday 30 May

To Stockholm by plane

Stockholm, Berwaldhallen • Herbert Blomstedt was scheduled to conduct the Swedish Radio Symphony Orchestra in Mahler’s Symphony No. 9 just weeks before his 99th birthday. At Berwaldhallen, the orchestra’s remarkable home, dug into a hillside, a brass bust of the conductor had recently been unveiled. Unfortunately, poor health forced Blomstedt to withdraw, and Alan Gilbert stepped in despite being on a “conducting sabbatical”. Gilbert gave equal weight to all orchestral lines, making it difficult for a convincing musical arc to emerge and leaving some passages sounding confused. Despite its exquisite tone, the Swedish orchestra never quite shed a certain stiffness, which kept emotion largely at bay. What might have been an exceptional occasion seldom rose above a carefully polished routine.

Sunday 31 May

Back to Paris by plane

Finished reading Simon Paré-Poupard’s Ordures!, an erudite, articulate, almost sociological inside look at the world of garbage collection in Montreal. An added delight for a French reader lay in the typically Canadian lexicon, which prompted frequent moments of linguistic mirth.

Wednesday 3 June

Paris, Théâtre du Lido · The delightful stage production of Les Demoiselles de Rochefort having been extended far beyond its original schedule, I took the opportunity to catch it for the third time a couple of weeks before its final curtain. I once again fell for Michel Legrand’s intoxicating score, lovingly performed by a standout orchestra, and for the undiminished collective energy of a cast whose members — for the most part — paid affectionate homage to their original cinematic counterparts. I occasionally glanced at the English supertitles and couldn’t help feeling that some of the charm of Jacques Demy’s dialogue had been lost in translation — “perm à Nantes,” anyone?

Thursday 4 June

Paris, Théâtre des Champs-Élysées · The Orchestre National de France under Juraj Valčuha offered a strikingly short concert consisting solely of Mahler’s Das Lied von der Erde, with Marianne Crebassa and Daniel Behle providing the voices. I never felt fully drawn into this elusive, singular work, sometimes even kept at bay by Behle’s all-out intensity, and yet moments of grace emerged, none so powerful as in Der Abschied, which Crebassa imbued with a quietly devastating valedictory luminosity.

Friday 5 June

Paris, La Scène parisienne · A musical about an unsolved murder built around Jacques Brel songs, using tacky karaoke tracks and a cast with limited vocal chops… What could go wrong? Well, about everything. Qui a tué Madeleine ? felt largely like a “why?” play, the sort of thing the authors might have imagined while intoxicated. Why they felt compelled to share it with the world will remain a mystery.

And so, for now, the lights dim… until the next act.

Saturday 23 May

New York, Palace Theatre • The Lost Boys, like Beaches, was based on a 1987 film, but the similarities largely ended there. A story of vampires taking over a Californian city sounds like an unlikely candidate for a musical, and yet the creative team came up with a finely crafted theatrical object: the wonderful scenic design by Dane Laffrey enabled exquisitely fluid, eye-popping transitions; the ambitious score by the pop band The Rescues rose well above banality; and a committed, charismatic cast sold the show with gusto.

New York, Music Box Theatre • Like Nixon/Frost, Oslo or Good Night, and Good Luck before it, Giant relied on a historical episode — in this case, the aftermath of a controversial 1983 book review written by children’s literature maverick Roald Dahl — to examine remarkably resonant issues in a superbly crafted, nuanced and dramatic manner. John Lithgow, unsurprisingly, gave a towering performance as the British author. He also seemed to act as a catalyst for the rest of the company, who rose to meet his exceptional standard, the resulting ensemble performance serving as a reminder of theatre’s transformative power.

Sunday 24 May

New York, Nederlander Theatre • I approached Schmigadoon with caution, expecting to find it cringeworthy, and yet I ended up buying into its questionable concept of paying homage to the musical theatre form by satirising it. Even though it worked for me, I couldn’t help thinking that audiences with limited familiarity with the Golden Age of musicals would probably miss both the homage and the satire, leaving the show to be judged solely on its mediocre music and lyrics. Christopher Gattelli’s direction and choreography likely did much to find the narrow ridgeline that kept the performance from plunging into the abyss. A temporary tonal shift into Sondheim territory in the second act may have been the wink too many, though.

Back to Paris by plane

Monday 25 May

Paris, Théâtre de la Ville · In Christos Papadopoulos’s My Fierce Ignorant Step, ten dancers performed elemental movements in near-synchronicity, subtly raising questions about the interdependence between a moving whole and its parts. The dancers’ ability to memorise an hour’s worth of seemingly Brownian motion, not to mention their physical endurance — they never stopped moving throughout the performance — amazed me. I found myself wondering whether the headsets they wore provided some form of guidance.

Wednesday 27 May

Paris, Philharmonie de Paris · After yet another instalment of Joan Tower’s Fanfare for the Uncommon Woman (No. 6, this time, strangely arranged for solo piano), the Orchestre de Paris took on Dvořák’s Cello Concerto (with Truls Mørk) and Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 5 under Anja Bihlmaier’s stewardship. The chamber music-inspired approach to the concerto resulted in a beautifully balanced and illuminating performance. A remark by K. about Dvořák’s connection with Victor Herbert also led me to discover the extent of the friendship between the two men. Alas, what had worked so well in the concerto proved far less convincing in the symphony, stripping the music of much of its character while highlighting Bihlmaier’s unfortunate tendency to rush the major tutti climaxes.

Thursday 28 May

Paris, Auditorium de Radio France · My giddy anticipation at hearing Zemlinsky’s shimmering Die Seejungfrau performed by the Orchestre National de France under Thomas Guggeis quickly turned to disappointment. The performance felt stiff and directionless, draining the score of much of its sensuality and sweep. The addition of a wholly superfluous narration only made matters worse, disrupting the work’s natural flow. The evening’s saving grace proved to be Patrick Pleutin’s live paintings, which restored some of the fluidity and sense of wonder too often absent from the performance.

Friday 29 May

Paris, Philharmonie de Paris · With subdued authority — and not a score in sight — Daniele Gatti led the Staatskapelle Dresden in a programme bracketing two French turn-of-the-century works, Saint-Saëns’s Cello Concerto No. 1 (with the ubiquitous Gautier Capuçon) and Debussy’s La Mer, with Wagnerian orchestral staples: the Meistersinger Overture, the Prelude to Tristan und Isolde, and Isolde’s Liebestod. The Wagner excerpts displayed the self-assurance of an orchestra from a city that can justly claim to have been Wagner’s artistic cradle. The musicians seemed less instinctively at ease in the French repertoire, however. La Mer’s shifting colours and elusive textures felt oddly earthbound.

And so, for now, the lights dim… until the next act.

Saturday 16 May

To London by plane

London, Coliseum • I approached this new production of Kinky Boots wondering whether the show still packed a punch thirteen years after its Broadway debut. Well, not quite. Cyndi Lauper’s score came across as mostly undistinguished, while Harvey Fierstein’s book, although providing some compelling scenes for the two protagonists, lacked structural discipline.

London, Southwark Playhouse Elephant • Korean composer Seungyeon Kwon and librettist/lyricist Jishik Kim have created a compelling one-person musical, The Last Man, based on the premise that zombies have taken over the world. A lone survivor, locked up in a bunker, chronicles their attempts at survival (the part is rotated between a male and a female actor). The show was not without flaws, but I enjoyed its originality and its craftily designed set — which looked like a low-budget cousin of the extraordinary set for Maybe Happy Ending. How satisfying that there should be writers keen to advance the musical form.

Sunday 17 May

London, Soho Theatre Walthamstow • Jinkx Monsoon took on the formidable challenge of impersonating Judy Garland in Peter Quilters’s End of the Rainbow, a play depicting Garland battling her demons while preparing for her famous 1968 London concerts, only months before dying from an overdose — also the inspiration for the movie Judy. Apart from the little vocal glitches — which made me fear for her ability to stay the course for the whole run but could also be attributed to Garland’s exhaustion — Monsoon gave a blazing performance both vocally and dramatically. I was particularly happy that the orchestrations for the on-stage band included a lot of bongos, one of the signature delights of Garland’s most famous arrangements.

To Paris by train

Monday 18 May

Paris, Théâtre de l’Athénée • Young tenor Laurence Kilsby designed an interesting programme of songs titled Paris est une fête, mostly created by composers associated with Paris in the first half of the 20th century, from Noël Coward to Ned Rorem. Supported by Ella O’Neill’s nuanced piano playing, Kilsby imbued each song with a singular and captivating dramatic intensity. Strangely, however, the emotional climax of the evening was an encore, Richard Strauss’s Morgen, which Kilsby sang as a tribute to the recently deceased Felicity Lott.

Thursday 21 May

To New York by plane

New York, Majestic Theatre • Based on the 1987 eponymous film, the musical Beaches chronicles the unlikely friendship of two women from two wildly different walks of life. The score and libretto failed to elevate the story beyond its linear, cheesy inevitability, yet the show achieved cinematic fluidity in a versatile if slightly cheap-looking set enhanced by projections. In the end, the strong performances by Jessica Vosk and Kelli Barrett made the experience worthwhile.

Friday 22 May

New York, Todd Haimes Theatre • The revival of Noël Coward’s 1925 parlour comedy Fallen Angels was given pace and punch by all-out performances by Kelli O’Hara and Rose Byrne, whose unapologetic physicality won well-deserved roars of laughter. By contrast, the secondary cast appeared weaker, and the expertly written role of the omniscient maid ended up sadly underexploited. David Rockwell’s archetypal set looked stunning.

And so, for now, the lights dim… until the next act.

To Vienna by plane

Vienna, Musikverein • Renaud Capuçon and Igor Levit offered a masterful account of Brahms’s three Sonatas for violin and piano. The former seemed about as concentrated as the latter looked relaxed, and yet they complemented each other so convincingly that, more often than not, they appeared to play with a single mind. Together, they expertly navigated the full range of Brahmsian moods, and their performance proved colourful, intense, romantic, and ultimately exhilarating.

Sunday 10 May

Vienna, Konzerthaus • Performing Mahler’s scale-defying Symphony No. 8 one week after No. 3 borders on the unreasonable. Watching the Wiener Philharmoniker embark on such a Stakhanovite endeavour with Andris Nelsons was undeniably thrilling, yet it failed to trigger the same emotional response in me, even though the sheer scale of the assembled musicians and singers proved as visually striking as it was aurally overwhelming.

To Paris by plane

Tuesday 12 May

Paris, Théâtre de la Ville • A few minutes into this choreographic homage to Jacques Brel — co-conceived and performed by Anne Teresa De Keersmaeker and Solal Mariotte — I was reminded that my tolerance for the Belgian songster was, sadly, rather low. It didn’t help that very little actual movement took place on stage, and that De Keersmaeker and Mariotte often seemed more intent on listening to the songs alongside the audience than interpreting them through dance, relying instead on literal gestures — forming a heart shape with their hands — or an occasional pirouette: classical for her, breakdance-style for him.

Wednesday 13 May

Paris, Philharmonie • Evidently, young conductor Bar Avni had put considerable thought into crafting a programme of French music for the Orchestre de Paris. Bookended by two fun-filled orchestral staples — Milhaud’s Le Bœuf sur le toit and Shchedrin’s Carmen Suite (after Bizet) — two contrasting works allowed violinist Ava Bahari to showcase the breadth of her talent: Chausson’s Poème for lyrical expressiveness and Ravel’s Tzigane for sheer virtuosity. Alas, the intellectual satisfaction did not fully translate into visceral pleasure, with small lapses and missed opportunities standing in the way of a wholly satisfying experience.

Thursday 14 May

To Berlin by plane

Berlin, Philharmonie • Klaus Mäkelä’s first appearance at the helm of the Berliner Philharmoniker in 2023 had amounted to a missed rendezvous. That the Finnish conductor, barely 30 years old, chose Stravinsky’s The Firebird, a piece written by a 28-year-old determined to make his mark, for this 2026 concert seemed to add subtext to the programme. In any case, this triumphal performance unfolded in a profusion of nuances, and its fiery culmination sent shockwaves through the auditorium. Opening the evening with Andrew Norman’s Play, a highly technical yet immensely enjoyable contemporary work, allowed both orchestra and conductor to shine. This new rendezvous was certainly put to good use.

Friday 15 May

To Düsseldorf by plane, then Wuppertal by train

Wuppertal, Opernhaus • Thanks to the German repertory system, Oper Wuppertal could offer a remarkably ambitious and very successful production of The Light in the Piazza, one of the first masterpieces of the 21st century, relying almost entirely on its in-house personnel. The staging proved inspired and inventive, the full orchestra sounded superb, and the trained operatic voices did wonders navigating Adam Guettel’s demanding writing — I don’t think I’d ever heard such a good Franca. Strong performances across the board included a wonderful gallery of singers/actors bringing sharp comedic instincts to the Naccarelli family. Unusually, the supertitles described the scenes rather than translating them word for word. The lyrics were treated in a more typical fashion, and once again the English translation of the German lyrics sometimes differed from the original — which is how “Dividing Day” became “When Did Love Die?”

And so, for now, the lights dim… until the next act.

Vienna, Ronacher • The Austrian homegrown musical Maria-Theresia seemed intent on replicating the Hamilton formula, giving a historical figure a contemporary twist, both visually — the sleeveless costumes — and musically, with a score drawing from pop and rap. Yet talent like Lin-Manuel Miranda’s is scarce and the show felt more derivative than genuinely inspired. The overall scenic design partially made up for it through its inventive and fluid use of lights and projections, combined with a limited number of versatile set pieces.

Vienna, Volksoper • The recent debacle at New York’s Roundabout proved that even Gilbert & Sullivan productions in the English-speaking world can miss the mark. Which is why I approached this Austrian production of The Pirates of Penzance (Die Piraten von Penzance) warily. This Volksoper production wisely chose to embrace what makes British operetta so singular instead of trying to circumvent it. The end result proved thoroughly enjoyable, and hearing the score played by a full orchestra was a welcome treat. The few songs translated into German, and unwisely updated, sadly provided the low points of the show, illustrating, if proof were needed, that some properties should not be tampered with.

Sunday 3 May

Vienna, Musikverein • The performance of Mahler’s Symphony No. 3 by the Wiener Philharmoniker under Andris Nelsons became one of those suspended experiences bordering on the religious. Sitting behind the second violins, I was ideally placed to observe both the intricacies of the score — the section splits into four parts in the third movement — and the orchestra breathing as one, collectively intent on shaping every dramatic contour of the music. Such intensity left me almost physically overwhelmed, and I struggled to regain my bearings after the exquisitely managed final release.

To Paris by plane

Wednesday 6 May

Paris, Philharmonie • Klaus Mäkelä led the Orchestre de Paris in a programme coupling Grieg’s Piano Concerto (with Japanese pianist Nobuyuki Tsujii) and Mahler’s Symphony No. 1. An embarrassment of riches, played with generosity and an infectious sense of communal pleasure. Kudos to principal double bass Ulysse Vigreux for giving the symphony’s third movement its earthy, almost creaky opening statement.

Friday 8 May

To Berlin by plane

Berlin, Philharmonie • Kirill Petrenko led the Berliner Philharmoniker in a repeat of the previous week’s Europakonzert at Schloss Esterházy, minus the occasional Haydn Overture. Throughout the exquisitely executed programme, a theme of musical transitions emerged: Stravinsky relying on Pergolesi to unveil his neoclassical — yet decidedly forward-looking — idiom in Pulcinella; Tchaikovsky’s Rococo Variations, still played spotlessly by Gautier Capuçon, transforming a seemingly passé theme through the composer’s unmistakable romantic sensitivity; and Beethoven’s Symphony No. 2, acknowledging the form’s debt to Haydn and Mozart while resolutely opening a new chapter.

And so, for now, the lights dim… until the next act.

To London by train, then Berlin by plane

Berlin, Philharmonie • 98-year-old Herbert Blomstedt led the Berliner Philharmoniker in a vibrant, febrile reading of Bruckner’s Symphony No. 7, teeming with urgency and unbridled energy. The contrast between the conductor’s physical frailty and the searing, all-out performance he coaxed from an adoring orchestra made the experience absolutely gut-wrenching.

Sunday 26 April

To Amsterdam by plane

Amsterdam, Dutch National Opera and Ballet • It’s hard to believe Mieczysław Weinberg’s The Passenger (Die Passagierin, Пассажирка) has gained so little recognition in operatic circles. His feverish score, hovering between Britten and Shostakovich, is a perfect match for Zofia Posmysz-Piasecka’s searing novel about Holocaust memory. It was performed with pulsating energy by the Netherlands Philharmonic and a wonderfully committed cast under Adam Hickox. I’m usually a fan of director Tobias Kratzer, but his concept blurred the plot’s legibility and ultimately did the work a disservice — Rainer Sellmaier’s set didn’t help, with its terrible sight lines in Act 1.

Back to Paris by train

Thursday 30 April

To Vienna by plane

Friday 1 May

Eisenstadt, Schloß Esterházy • The Berliner Philharmoniker’s annual Europakonzert took place at the Esterházy Palace, in the aptly named Haydnsaal. Kirill Petrenko led the band in a carefully curated programme opening with a short Haydn Overture and closing with an iron-hot performance of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 2. In between, two later works showcased the orchestra’s timbral versatility: Tchaikovsky’s Rococo Variations (masterfully played by Gautier Capuçon) and Stravinsky’s Pulcinella.

Vienna, Musikverein (Brahmssaal) • Violist Antoine Tamestit and pianist Bertrand Chamayou offered a programme of formidable stamina: Berlioz’s Harold in Italy, Liszt’s Romance oubliée and Shostakovich’s Sonata for viola and piano (with its funky Beethoven quotes). Both performers instilled dramatic potency and head-spinning virtuosity in a programme that left the audience gasping for air… and asking for more.

And so, for now, the lights dim… until the next act.

Saturday 18 April

To Vienna by plane

Vienna, Musikverein • Opinion on Simon Rattle as a Mahlerian conductor is sharply divided, and I find myself on both sides of the line. In this instance, whatever he sought to bring to this interpretation of Mahler’s Symphony No. 9 by the Wiener Philharmoniker was utterly lost on me. Loud and often needlessly convoluted, his reading unearthed no revelation and left emotion at the door. The dying finale may have been the most successful passage, yet the sudden silence was spoilt by the creaking of the Musikverein’s ancient woodwork — probably made worse by a restless audience.

Vienna, Konzerthaus • Tugan Sokhiev led the Luxembourg Philharmonic in a phenomenal performance of Mahler’s Symphony No. 2 (with Louise Alder, Okka von der Damerau and the Wiener Singakademie), which grabbed me from the first bar and didn’t let go until the momentous, ecstatic finale. The attention to detail didn’t distract from the overarching drama. Sokhiev expertly worked with colours and subterranean tension to build towards a telluric, rapturous climax.

Sunday 19 April

Back to Paris by plane

Paris, Théâtre des Champs-Élysées • Yannick Nézet-Séguin injected considerable dramatic relief into a concert production of Siegfried that blew the roof off the theatre. At the helm of a white-hot Rotterdam Philharmonic and a superb cast, he showed impeccable Wagnerian instincts by emphasising both the heavenly accents and the primal momentum of the piece. The stylistic shift at the beginning of Act 3 contributed to the epic’s arc in a novel way. It was my forty-fourth Siegfried, give or take, and one of the most consistently captivating.

Tuesday 21 April

Paris, Palais-Garnier • A performance of Philip Glass’s Satyagraha is akin to a ceremony, as I had discovered in English National Opera’s captivating 2013 production. Bobbi Jene Smith and Or Schraiber’s concept for the Opéra de Paris relied heavily on movement and dance, adding an extra visual narrative layer that probably tilted the piece closer to Einstein on the Beach than originally envisioned. The obsessive repetitions made for a hypnotic, almost religious experience, opening windows onto other worlds, like the descending fourths of Act 3, very reminiscent of the opening bars of Mahler’s Symphony No. 1.

Wednesday 22 April

Paris, Théâtre du Châtelet • It is a challenge to recreate the Astaire–Rogers alchemy without them. Kathleen Marshall, as I had already witnessed in Chichester where this production of Top Hat originated, didn’t quite rise to the occasion. Sure, the infectiously toe-tapping Irving Berlin score was given a decent reading in Chris Walker’s orchestration, but everything else felt faintly underwhelming: the leads, the set design, etc. Even the much-awaited ostrich-feathered dress failed to hit the mark. Oh well.

Friday 24 April

To Leicester by train, via London

Leicester, Curve • Having sadly missed the original production, I was hoping to catch a performance that would match my admiration for Kander & Ebb’s darkly wonderful Kiss of the Spider Woman. I even travelled to Melbourne especially to catch Caroline O’Connor’s performance as Aurora in 2019, but I wasn’t bowled over. Then came this co-production between Leicester Curve, Bristol Old Vic and Mayflower Southampton, directed with impeccable flair by Paul Foster, which came as close to perfection as one could reasonably hope. Armed with a brilliant cast (including the always fabulous Anna-Jane Casey as Aurora), Foster crafted a heart-wrenching, finely calibrated conception that made every storyline legible, whether in the grim prison cell at the centre of the stage, in Molina’s imagination… or somewhere in-between. Sarah Travis’s reduced orchestration managed to keep most of the magic of the original charts, even though those shrill descending flute lines during the title song were sorely missed. The quote from Mahler’s Symphony No. 4 was still there, though.

And so, for now, the lights dim… until the next act.

Saturday 11 April

To Amsterdam by train

Amsterdam, Concertgebouw • Stanislav Kochanovsky led the Netherlands Radio Philharmonic Orchestra in a programme juxtaposing two hypnotic contemporary works with a towering 20th-century landmark, Stravinsky’s Petrushka. Lera Auerbach’s Icarus, with its eerie theremin part, proved an apt curtain-raiser. Daniel Wohl’s Lighthouse, a piano concerto performed with conviction by Francesco Tristano, seemed to reach for a synthesis of various currents in contemporary music. It filled the hall with a rhythmic, unusual yet captivating blend of electronics and traditional instruments. Kochanovsky offered a few illuminating remarks before the concert, an initiative more conductors might usefully adopt.

Amsterdam, DeLaMar Theatre • A production of the musical Hairspray, whose only shortcoming may have been its reduced orchestra, delivered a thoroughly entertaining evening. The versatility of the non-replica staging excelled at streamlining transitions that even the original production struggled with, while the cast delivered warm, spot-on characterisations across the board. Halfway through the performance, I had a small epiphany: most characters bear alliterative names — Tracy Turnblad (TT), Motormouth Maybelle (MM), etc. How had I never noticed that before?

Sunday 12 April

Amsterdam, Concertgebouw • The regional orchestra Philzuid’s Sunday morning concert paired Beethoven’s Triple Concerto with Haydn’s Symphony No. 82, “The Bear.” The concerto, played by the Storioni Trio, did little to deepen my interest in this work — I’m sure it will come eventually — whereas the symphony, energetically conducted by Tung-Chieh Chuang, proved all the more delightful as my expectations were low.

Amsterdam, Concertgebouw • Aurel Dawidiuk led the Concertgebouworkest in a programme bracketing Poulenc’s too seldom performed Organ Concerto (1938) between two emblematic works of the late 19th-century repertoire: Debussy’s Prélude à l’Après-midi d’un faune and Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 4. The concerto, expertly performed by Leo van Doeselaar, highlighted Poulenc’s familiar blend of quasi-liturgical chiaroscuro harmonies and breathless rhythmic episodes — an underrated masterpiece by an underrated composer.

Back to Paris by train

Monday 13 April

Paris, Philharmonie • Daniel Harding led the Orchestra dell’Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia in Brahms’s Piano Concerto No. 1, played by Igor Levit, and Elgar’s Enigma Variations. Despite being a fan of Levit, I found his analytical, almost Jansenist approach at odds with the orchestra’s shimmering expansiveness — qualities that, by contrast, lent Elgar’s masterpiece a glowing, polychromatic reading that left the audience almost panting before such beauty.

Wednesday 15 April

Paris, Théâtre des Champs-Élysées • The Ballet BC (as in British Columbia) offered a triple bill of contemporary ballets, by Crystal Pite, Mehdi Walerski and Johan Inger, all performed in France for the first time. The first two suffered from “Contemporary Ballet Syndrome,” rehashing clichéd movements and atmospheres and leaving a strong sense of déjà vu. Inger’s Passing, by contrast, proved far more original and rewarding: its somewhat wacky narrative unfolded with gleeful abandon until, sadly, snow began to fall from the flies, at which point it felt as though the well of inspiration had run dry.

Friday 17 April

Paris, Petit-Montparnasse • I was a little too young to remember the 1973 hijacking of an Air France plane by a 35-year-old woman who sought to block the release of Gérard Oury’s film Les Aventures de Rabbi Jacob, starring Louis de Funès, which she feared would jeopardise the chances of peace in the Middle East. Jean-Philippe Daguerre chose to draw on that episode for a mildly entertaining 90-minute play, La Femme qui n’aimait pas Rabbi Jacob, retracing the chain of events leading up to the incident, while also offering a somewhat troubling perspective on the police response. The production’s main asset lay in its striking set design built around nine highly versatile screens.

And so, for now, the lights dim… until the next act.

Saturday 4 April

To Berlin by train

Berlin, Staatsoper • I gathered three take-aways attending a performance of this new production of Un ballo in maschera, directed by Rafael R. Villalobos and conducted by Enrique Mazzola. Firstly, that this score by Giuseppe Verdi never quite manages to draw me in. Second, that Anna Netrebko still possessed an uncanny ability to draw everyone’s attention to her the moment she set foot on stage to sing Amelia with her usual flair. Third, that nothing touches me more than a deep baritone voice, and Amartuvshin Enkhbat left me reeling every time Renato opened his mouth.

Sunday 5 April

Berlin, Staatsoper • André Heller’s production of Der Rosenkavalier, which debuted in 2015, felt like an ageless classic — not unlike the venerable Otto Schenk staging, still in the repertoire of Vienna’s Staatsoper as of this writing after nearly 60 years. The shift to the Vienna Secession era wrapped the piece in vibrant colours and enhanced its emotional impact by bringing the action closer to us. A superb cast — Julia Kleiter as the Feldmarschallin, Peter Rose as Baron Ochs and Patricia Nolz as Octavian — elevated the score’s bittersweet, heart-rending beauty, while Christian Thielemann drew a shimmering, kaleidoscopic reading from the Staatskapelle Berlin.

Monday 6 April

To Salzburg by plane

Salzburg, Felsenreitschule • Das Rheingold, marking the Berliner Philharmoniker’s return to Salzburg’s Easter Festival, didn’t disappoint. The prologue of this new Ring cycle helmed by the two Kirills — with Petrenko in the pit and Serebrennikov on stage — turned out to be absolute musical bliss. Christian Gerhaher’s Wotan projected authority and doubt in equal measure, while a cast largely unfamiliar to me gave depth and vibrancy to the other characters. The huge, wingless stage undermined the visually busy concept the director tried to develop, but that hardly diminished my enjoyment, as Petrenko’s light touch led to such musical radiance.

Tuesday 7 April

Back to Paris by plane

Wednesday 8 April

Paris, Philharmonie • Esa-Pekka Salonen once again led the Orchestre de Paris in a repertoire he knows inside out: Strauss’s Don Juan (1889), Bartók’s Violin Concerto No. 2 (1939) — with Renaud Capuçon — and Sibelius’s Symphony No. 5 (1919). He coaxed glowing, telluric performances from an enthusiastic orchestra, foreshadowing another great era for his tenure as musical director.

Thursday 9 April

Paris, Théâtre de Chaillot • 45 years after its creation, May B, one of Maguy Marin’s most successful ballets, hadn’t lost its edge. Set to a finely curated soundtrack featuring several of Schubert’s greatest lieder, a slightly obsessive sequence showed a bunch of atypical characters in atypical situations, evolving both as individuals and as a collective entity. Marin challenged some of ballet’s conventions and unspoken rules back in 1981. Those conventions have mostly been shattered since, yet May B has kept its ability to disturb and provoke. Isn’t that the essence of art?

Friday 10 April

Paris, Maison de la Radio • The Orchestre Philharmonique de Radio France invited composer Thomas Adès to conduct a programme placing in dialogue two of his own compositions — the piano concerto In Seven Days (with Bertrand Chamayou) and an orchestral piece, Aquifer — with two works by a composer he has often cited as a major influence, Jean Sibelius — Tapiola and Symphony No. 7. The juxtaposition made for a fascinating performance, full of earthy and ethereal textures, interpreted with palpable delight by the orchestra. A rewarding experience, and a striking illustration of what an ever-morphing, still-alive art form classical music can be.

And so, for now, the lights dim… until the next act.

Saturday 28 March

London, Royal Ballet and Opera • Barrie Kosky’s take on Siegfried relied on a series of sophisticated visuals which drew me in from the get-go. It offered an apt setting for a musically sumptuous performance, led with zest and gusto by Antonio Pappano, and served by a cast attentive to the overall balance of the drama. Having sadly been unable to attend Kosky’s Die Walküre, I found myself looking forward to presentations of the full cycle, hopefully in the near future.

Sunday 29 March

London, Charing Cross Theatre • There are musicals which don’t sound very promising on paper but still grab the audience by the throat thanks to the sharpness of their writing. No such luck for A Mirrored Monet, which proved about as unexciting on stage as its “pitch” had implied. The flat, narrative book didn’t unearth striking dramatic hooks in the life of the French painter Claude Monet and was dragged down by a generic, charmless score. The only redeeming grace of the performance lay in its deft visual design, providing a convincing demonstration of what technology can bring to theatrical design.

Back to Paris by train

Tuesday 31 March

Paris, Théâtre de l’Athénée • This French-language production of No, No, Nanette, served by a winning cast, proved joyous and effusive beyond expectations. The orchestrations — the collective work of six people, if the programme is to be trusted — filled the auditorium with toe-tapping, jazz-infused effervescence, perfectly executed by the orchestra Les Frivolités parisiennes. Christophe Mirambeau’s French-language adaptation demonstrated a fine-tuned sensitivity to the fascinating art of lyric-writing, while the set design proved versatile if a little abstract. The direction was a little “semaphoric” to my taste, but the overall experience drew me into a mood of bubbly, sunny, jolly abandon.

Wednesday 1 April

Paris, Philharmonie de Paris • Leading the Orchestre de Paris, Esa-Pekka Salonen proved once again the deep kinship he obviously feels with both Debussy (Prélude à l’Après-midi d’un faune [1894], La Mer [1905]) and Sibelius (Pohjola’s Daughter [1906]). Both composers aimed to lead symphonic music into the 20th century, taking different routes that ended up freeing melodic and harmonic languages for generations to come. Salonen’s own Horn Concerto, written for and performed by Stephan Dohr, can be heard as a distant beneficiary of those new pathways, yet the aural experience somehow failed to take flight.

Friday 3 April

To Dresden by plane and train

Dresden, Semperoper • There are few musical experiences as fitting as attending a performance of Parsifal on Good Friday. Floris Visser designed a staging in which the story emerged as the product of a young boy’s imagination, a counterpart of sorts to the titular reiner Tor. A strong cast, led by the superb Georg Zeppenfeld as Gurnemanz, gave an intense and focused performance, while Daniele Gatti led the scintillating orchestra in a nuanced, expressive and eventually transfixing reading of Wagner’s sublime score.

And so, for now, the lights dim… until the next act.

Saturday 21 March

A short ferry ride from Buenos Aires, across the Río de la Plata, lies the picturesque Colonia del Sacramento, one of Uruguay’s oldest towns, whose Barrio Histórico takes visitors back to the late-17th-century Portuguese settlement. Century-old trees and quaint houses create a charming, slightly otherworldly atmosphere.

Back to Paris by plane

Monday 23 March

Paris, Théâtre des Champs-Élysées • The City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra led by Kazuki Yamada opened with a rarely performed ceremonial work, Walton’s Orb and Sceptre, composed for Queen Elizabeth II’s Coronation, and more than slightly reminiscent of Elgar’s Pomp and Circumstance. A disappointing, slightly muddy execution of Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No. 1 by pianist Bruce Liu was followed by a generous, if not entirely polished, reading of Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition, in Ravel’s sumptuous, colourful, and witty orchestration.

Tuesday 24 March

Paris, Palais-Garnier • A balletic double bill entitled Empreintes never quite took flight. Yet the second piece, Étude by Marcos Morau, distinguished itself through wit and playfulness, and by offering an exciting perspective on the magnificent Foyer de la danse located at the back of the stage — once the site of dealings that would be frowned upon today.

Friday 27 March

To London by train

London, Theatre Royal Haymarket • The musical adaptation of the 2012 hit novel The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry proved that a strong directorial vision, supported by a committed cast, can save a mediocre show. The overly melodramatic story somehow felt both implausible and predictable, yet the evident affection for the material shown by the creative team resulted in a beautiful, and at times moving, experience. A special mention for Jenna Russell, an actress of many talents, who proved instrumental to the show’s mood.

And so, for now, the lights dim… until the next act.

To Buenos Aires by plane (via Mexico)

On one of the flights, I watched The Girl With the Needle, the 2024 Danish film by Magnus von Horn, which competed at Cannes. Von Horn manages to sustain the film’s grim, almost gothic, atmosphere throughout while offering striking insights into working-class life in Denmark at the outset of World War I, with fully realised characters. Tragedy lends itself well to cinema.

Sunday 8 March

Buenos Aires, Teatro Nacional • The theatres dotting Avenida Corrientes have a long-established tradition of offering good-quality theatrical productions. Still impressed by a performance of Hairspray I had seen almost 20 years earlier, I jumped at the opportunity to attend a local production of Company. Apart from the ill-advised omission of “Barcelona” (and my favourite instrumental passage, “Tick Tock,” famously arranged by David Shire), the performance proved excellent on every front. The cast made the most of the material, both dramatic and comedic; the overall pacing was excellent, further enhanced by a remarkable lighting design; and the leading man, Fernando Dente, exhibited strong triple-threat credentials, commanding the stage with electric ease.

Monday 9 March

Buenos Aires, Museo de Arte Moderno • Two of the temporary exhibitions focused on the explosion of theatrical experiments in the wake of Argentina’s return to democracy in 1983. At a time when avant-garde directors were gaining increasing visibility worldwide, the Argentine experiment felt all the more revolutionary in that it was fuelled by a newly acquired sense of freedom and marked by the still-open wounds of oppression and dictatorship.

Tuesday 10 March – Friday 20 March

A ten-day cruise to Antarctica started with an early-morning flight to Ushuaia to board the MS Fridtjof Nansen, named after one of the pioneers of polar exploration. A relatively calm journey through the Drake Passage took us to the Antarctic Peninsula. What followed felt less like travel than the discovery of another world entirely — one that seemed almost staged in its unreality. We spent five days enjoying otherworldly landscapes and admiring the abundance of penguins, whales, seals, and albatrosses, at a time when the alternation of day and night gradually reasserted itself after months of perpetual daylight. A series of lectures provided additional insights on the history, geology, biology, and even geopolitical situation of the seventh continent. The time came too soon to head back to Ushuaia and Buenos Aires, and to adjust to a less lunar environment.

Friday 20 March

Buenos Aires, Teatro Liceo • A condensed, intermissionless, 110-minute version of the musical Mrs. Doubtfire, called Papá por Siempre, allowed me to discover yet another theatrical gem in the Teatro Liceo, a remnant of a glorious past. The production’s value for money was outstanding in every respect, but the performance also emphasised the very minor contribution of the score to what would probably work just as well as a “straight” play. It also got rid of the show’s most cringeworthy scene, the sportswear fashion show. Given that there must have been no more than 300 people in the audience — perhaps fewer — I couldn’t help but admire what came across as a genuine love for theatre and stagecraft on the part of everyone involved.

And so, for now, the lights dim… until the next act.

Neil Simon Theatre, New York • After avoiding it for over four years, I eventually gave in and attended MJ the Musical, the show retracing Michael Jackson’s rise to universal stardom — and carefully avoiding all touchy areas. There’s no denying the extent of the theatrical craft involved and the sheer drive and scale of most musical numbers; however, I found myself desperately looking for some missing dramatic crux in the otherwise insipid book. The show ended on a visual high with the recreation of the “Thriller” music video, which also felt like a confirmation of its dramatic shortcomings.

Nederlander Theatre, New York • All Out, a series of skits written by Simon Rich, a comedy writer known for his contributions to Saturday Night Live, The Simpsons, and The New Yorker, turned out to be a mixed experience. The material used was uneven, to say the least, and the only piece I found worthy of a Broadway stage was the very last, titled “The City Speaks.” What made the show bearable in the end was a combination of a short duration, a great (rotating) cast, Alex Timbers’ inventive staging… and the powerful musical vignettes provided by soul-pop band Lawrence.

Marjorie S. Deane Little Theater, New York • David Shire and Richard Maltby, Jr., two of the last survivors of Broadway’s second Golden Age, are widely recognised as masters of the revue form, having provided two staples of the repertoire with Starting Here, Starting Now (1976) and Closer Than Ever (1989). This new show, titled About Time and conceived as the third part of the trilogy, was a wonderful testament to their combined storytelling talents. The first-rate cast took an evident delight in giving life to stories of life, age, and experience… the perfect way to close a loop half a century in the making.

Sunday 1 March

Back to Paris by plane

Wednesday 4 March

Paris, Théâtre de l’Odéon • Ivo van Hove gave Hamlet his customary feverish treatment, relying on a new, high-energy French-language translation, a bare stage where some intricately designed curtains provided spatial delimitations when needed, and several of the most exciting members of the Comédie-Française troupe — temporarily exiled from its base during renovation works — who provided a high-octane reading amplified to the rafters by aggressive sound design. One could argue that Hamlet doesn’t need such a deployment of all-out dramatics, but the experience certainly gave the tragedy some captivating relief.

Thursday 5 March

To Chicago by plane

Chicago, Chicago Shakespeare Theater • I haven’t read Maggie O’Farrell’s Hamnet, a novel given parallel silver screen and stage adaptations, the latter by Lolita Chakrabarti for the Royal Shakespeare Company. This US transplant at Chicago Shakespeare Theater had me wonder what previous audiences found in this slow-moving, melodramatic play whose substance seemed concentrated in its last moments, when Anne Hathaway — renamed Agnes — realised how her husband William Shakespeare had used the death of their son Hamnet in writing Hamlet. I couldn’t tell what annoyed me most: the set’s continuous but useless metamorphoses or the pedestrian dramatics of the play.

Friday 6 March

Chicago, Symphony Center • In a concert that illustrated the exciting potential of their future working relationship, Klaus Mäkelä led the Chicago Symphony Orchestra in a chronologically, stylistically and geographically coherent programme bringing together Darius Milhaud’s Le Bœuf sur le toit (1920), Gershwin’s An American in Paris (1928) and Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring (1913). While the Milhaud felt somewhat repetitive and the Gershwin a tad stiff and breathless, The Rite of Spring had the orchestra playing with electrifying intensity, the collective display of energy somewhat dulled by the hall’s acoustics.

And so, for now, the lights dim… until the next act.

To Vienna by plane

Musikverein, Vienna – Andris Nelsons led the Wiener Philharmoniker in Bartók’s Piano Concerto No. 3 — played with surprising emotional restraint by Lang Lang — and Mahler’s Symphony No. 1, whose Austrian premiere in 1900 was conducted by the composer himself. Despite the orchestra’s unmistakable sheen, a certain routineness crept into the performance. Nelsons nevertheless drove the symphony to its triumphant apotheosis with his usual theatrical flair.

Baden bei Wien, Stadttheater – I took the opportunity to see an Austrian production of The Sound of Music in a theatre known for respecting its musical theatre repertoire. The experience was everything it ought to be: genuine and warm, the orchestra and cast performing the show exactly as written. Although I don’t speak German, I could sense that the translation sat comfortably on the music. Apart from a puzzling choice in the last scene — Rolf remained frozen in the convent’s graveyard, as if contemplating joining the family on their trek across the Alps — the production handled the frequent scene changes deftly, despite an obviously limited budget. After the curtain calls, sing-along reprises of the show’s most famous songs added to the evening’s enjoyment. The actors playing Nazi characters had removed their swastikas before taking their bows — a welcome demonstration of sensitivity.

Sunday 22 February

Konzerthaus, Vienna • At the helm of the Wiener Symphoniker, Lorenzo Viotti conducted a riveting reading of Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 7, which sustained its monumental scale without sacrificing emotional urgency. The only questionable choice was to open the programme with an orchestrated version of Bach’s Chaconne from Partita No. 2, which, despite a luxuriant orchestral palette, felt superfluous. There was no trace of routine in an interpretation that never once relinquished its tension or sense of direction.

Back to Paris by plane

Monday 23 February

Paris, Théâtre des Abbesses • Spanish dancer and choreographer María Muñoz has enjoyed a long relationship with Bach’s The Well-Tempered Clavier. She was about to retire it when an offer came to reïmagine the work — originally conceived as a solo — into a family affair involving her husband and three children. I let myself be drawn into a world of organic, at times almost animal, movements. The apex came when all five performers, after a series of solos, merged fluidly into what looked like a single, breathing organism. Glenn Gould’s huffing and puffing — particularly evident through the theatre’s sound system — added yet another living presence to the tableau.

Tuesday 24 February

Paris, Palais-Garnier • With Eugène Onéguine, Ralph Fiennes made an unconvincing operatic directing debut. He designed images that looked either derivative (Act I felt like a pale echo of Robert Carsen’s brilliant staging) or misguided: the black costumes in Act III, the strict separation of men and women at both balls, and a clumsy reference to Pushkin’s bear during the Gremin ball, oddly reminiscent of the Radio City Christmas Spectacular’s Nutcracker sequence. Fortunately, Fiennes worked with a solid cast and orchestra. Yet I found myself, unusually, almost hoping for a disturbance that might force a concert version — hardly an unprecedented occurrence at the Paris Opera.

Wednesday 25 February

Paris, Philharmonie • Ukrainian conductor Oksana Lyniv led the Orchestre de Paris in a lyrical programme culminating in a spacious account of Dvořák’s Symphony No. 8, which filled the hall with glowing harmonies and generous phrasing. Unfortunately, it was preceded by a largely misguided account of Sibelius’s Violin Concerto by Bomsori Kim, a young Korean violinist whose episodic interpretation lacked a sustained arc. Two contemporary works opened the evening: one of Joan Tower’s Fanfares for the Uncommon Woman — the third for me this season — and Eduard Resatsch’s Les Visions du prince. Resatsch, also from Ukraine, drew inspiration from Saint-Exupéry’s Le Petit Prince to craft a layered piece full of internal tensions, sustaining attention through its varied and richly sculpted orchestration.

Thursday 26 February

To Washington DC by plane

Washington DC, Arena Stage – I’ve never subscribed to the common wisdom that considers Pal Joey a “problem show” because of its unlikeable title character — especially given its glorious Rodgers & Hart score. Arena Stage thought they solved this questionable issue by extensively rewriting the show and retitling it Chez Joey, the name of the nightclub Joey Evans runs in Act 2. The result was such a mess that I took the unusual — and painful — decision to leave at intermission despite flying across the Atlantic for this performance. In this reïmagined version, Joey behaved like a discombobulated puppet, while the other characters — seemingly permanently wired — could not utter a line without stomping a foot or tapping it out for emphasis. The score often distorted the melodies beyond recognition and interpolated songs from other shows, including “Sing for Your Supper,” which should have remained where it belongs — in Syracuse. The onstage band frequently drowned the actors’ voices. Heavy on drums and tripled brass, the orchestrations failed to achieve the light, jazzy touch they seemed to aim for and instead contributed to an atmosphere of relentless, almost manic frenzy. Paradoxically, this production made the case that Pal Joey is indeed a problem show — when staged with little regard to its integrity.

Friday 27 February

To New York by plane

New York, Longacre Theatre • Having missed it in London, I finally caught the British musical Two Strangers (Carry a Cake Across New York) on the Great White Way. In spite of a few plot holes and a strange choice of accent for the male protagonist, a supposed lower-middle-class Basingstoke lad, I found the performance fresh and winning. Besides Soutra Gilmour’s nifty set design, the show’s charm rested largely on its two performers, and I was particularly touched by Sam Tutty, the West End’s original Evan Hansen. It was hardly a perfect show, but one that gave hope that there might still be a place on the world’s stages for good old musical comedy — “the two most glorious words in the English language,” as all musical lovers know. If anything, Two Strangers made me want to follow its authors, Jim Barne & Kit Buchan — who, the programme informs us, have a combined height of 12’6”.

And so, for now, the lights dim… until the next act.

Saturday 14 February

To Osaka by train

Umeda Arts Theater, Osaka – Maury Yeston’s latest show, Issa in Paris, had just premiered in Tokyo, and an opportunity arose to see it in the second of its three-city tour, in Osaka.

Thankfully, there was enough material online to make sense of the convoluted plot. A modern-day singer, Kaito, who goes by the stage name ISSA and whose hit song is titled “Talk, Talk, Tokyo,” strives to get out of a creative and personal impasse involving childhood traumas by following in the footsteps of Kobayashi Issa, one of Japan’s most famous haiku poets, also the academic specialty of his recently-deceased mother. 18th-century Issa (born Yatarō in Nagano), left an unexplained ten-year gap in his biography from 1777 to 1787. The show assumes some Dutch sailors he met at a Nagasaki whorehouse where he worked offered him passage to Europe, where he somehow made his way to Paris. Modern-day Kaito, equipped with his mother’s work, also travels to Paris (albeit by plane) and falls in love with a young woman who introduces him to an activist, pro-social justice movement — while his past counterpart lands in the midst of the French Revolution and falls for lovely Thérèse, never parting with his Japanese sandals. Both Issas somehow return home with their artistic energies renewed and their personal turmoils appeased.

It would be unfair to judge a show in a language I don’t understand. On the one hand, the somewhat clichéd second act failed to fulfil the expectations raised by the show’s intricate, if somewhat overwrought, exposition. On the other hand, the show had some strong redeeming features. The score, for one, although derivative at times, adopted a wide range of styles — from pentatonic-sounding songs for 18th century Japan to rap for modern-day French protesters. Even though the time came for the inevitable revolutionary song, a mix of Les Misérables and Billy Elliot complete with drums, piccolo and muted trumpets, there were many delightful moments of charming melodic, rhythmic and harmonic inspiration — not least of which what might be the most tender brothel song ever written.

The staging relied on a nifty modular set that sometimes seemed to be entrusted with a choreography of its own. Together with sophisticated projections and lighting effects, it created a fluid series of striking images, imposing visual coherence on the show’s complex chronology.

The show started with one of Kobayashi Issa’s most famous haikus, written on the occasion of a child’s death:

This world of dew

is a world of dew,

and yet, and yet…

露の世は露の世ながらさりながら

A potent reminder of the emotional force of that quintessentially Japanese art form — however much may be lost in translation.

Back to Tokyo by train

Sunday 15 February

Suntory Hall, Tokyo • On the eve of his ninetieth birthday, conductor Eliahu Inbal led the Tokyo Metropolitan Symphony Orchestra in a powerful yet impeccably shaped account of Mahler’s monumental Symphony No. 8. The hall’s acoustics seemed overwhelmed by the sheer weight of sound, but Inbal’s interpretation, informed by a lifetime immersed in Mahler, proved precise, demanding and remarkably nimble. The spatial effects, with the extra brass and the Mater gloriosa performing from the balcony, were exquisitely immersive. Outside the hall, balloons were already in place for the next day’s celebration.

Back to Paris by plane

Monday 16 February

Paris, Théâtre de l’Athénée • Drawing from a wide repertoire ranging from German lieder to American musicals, singers Fleur Barron and Axelle Fanyo, together with pianist Julius Drake, assembled a programme of songs framed around Catholicism’s seven deadly sins. I had heard the same artists in far more focused programmes in Amsterdam at the 2025 Mahler Festival. This new venture, as refreshing as it looked on paper, felt contrived. The performers seemed unsure how to endow each piece with its distinct colour, at times semaphoring emotions rather than inhabiting them and occasionally betraying discomfort in the syncopated passages.

Wednesday 18 February

Paris, Philharmonie de Paris • Paavo Järvi led the Orchestre de Paris in a splendid programme pairing a heartfelt account of Elgar’s Cello Concerto, played by Sol Gabetta, with a lyrical yet incisive reading of Bartók’s Concerto for Orchestra. The orchestra appeared uncannily in tune with its former music director, each section intent on sustaining the exquisite tension circulating through the phalanx. The contemporary work opening the evening, Helena Tulve’s Wand’ring Bark, felt like a collage of textures and gestures familiar from countless contemporary scores.

Thursday 19 February

Paris, Théâtre national de Chaillot • Japanese choreographer Saburo Teshigawara devised a one-hour visual meditation on Tristan and Isolde, set to excerpts from Richard Wagner’s score. Together with fellow dancer Rihoko Sato, he created a sequence of striking images, sculpted through dramatic poses and silhouettes etched against meticulously calibrated lighting. Despite the obvious amount of creativity, I failed to be carried away by an endeavour that felt more constructed than lived.

Friday 20 February

Paris, Théâtre de la Ville • A German-language production of Bertold Brecht’s Der kaukasische Kreidekreis by the Berliner Ensemble played the Festival international de Paris in 1955, to critical acclaim. More than 70 years later, Emmanuel Demarcy-Mota offered a contemporary take, titled Le Cercle de craie caucasien, in a French translation by Georges Proser, in the very same theatre — now the Théâtre de la Ville. Despite the play’s sustained relevance to our times and Demarcy-Mota’s strong visual chops, the performance felt overlong to me, with the titular chalk circle appearing only in the final fifteen minutes.

And so, for now, the lights dim… until the next act.

Koninklijk Theater Carré, Amsterdam • A new Dutch production of West Side Story did away with Robbins’s direction and choreography but still engaged emotionally through clever, fluid staging ideas. I’m not sure how the adapted libretto managed to justify the absence of mannequins in the wedding shop, though. The amplification was a little strong to my liking and tended to distort the strings; the original orchestrations, however, appeared to be mostly intact. The director made a strange choice in the last scene, but I was surprised that the ending floored me so strongly — even though I didn’t understand a word.

Concertgebouw, Amsterdam • Dima Slobodeniouk led the Nederlands Philharmonisch in an interesting coupling of Returning into Darkness, a recent work for cello and orchestra by Austrian composer Thomas Larcher and Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 8. Cellist Ivan Karizna and the orchestra infused colour and a lot of rhythmic energy into the Larcher, which appeared far more approachable than Slobodeniouk’s little pre-concert speech had led us to expect. The symphony was exquisitely detailed, the orchestra ebbing and flowing powerfully as Shostakovich’s score unfurled with grandeur and determination.

Sunday 8 February

Dutch National Opera and Ballet, Amsterdam • The late Pierre Audi’s staging of Tristan und Isolde premiered at Paris’s Théâtre des Champs-Élysées in May 2016, with Daniele Gatti leading the Orchestre National de France. In typical Audi fashion, it mixed abstract, metaphysical imagery and — in Act III — a more prosaic tableau, creating a slightly dated aesthetic. There was nothing dated about Tarmo Peltokoski’s musical direction of the Rotterdam Philharmonic Orchestra, which drew depth and drama from the score. Sadly, Michael Weinius’s Tristan gradually lost steam, unlike Malin Byström’s Isolde, who brought the afternoon to a triumphant close.

Back to Paris by train

Monday 9 February

Paris, Philharmonie • I was lucky to witness another performance of Bruckner’s Symphony No. 8 by the Concertgebouworkest under Klaus Mäkelä three days after the Amsterdam concert, this time in Paris. Same piece, same performers, different locale. The tempo was still slow and deliberate, but the hall’s acoustics produced a strikingly analytical clarity, unlike the sonic waves that enveloped me in Amsterdam. There must be something in the last movement’s motifs that reminds me of Don Giovanni’s Commendatore scene, because for the second time in four days Mozart’s furiously ascending and descending scales echoed in my mind long after I left the hall.

Wednesday 11 February

Paris, Philharmonie • András Schiff assembled one of his typical programmes, consisting entirely of Beethoven piano pieces — mostly sonatas. At this stage of his career, Schiff offers no explanations or apologies for his personal take on repertoire staples he has frequented for years. That is precisely what appeals to me — this evening was no exception, illuminated by a crystal-clear sense of musical discourse — though I can understand other listeners feeling excluded by what may strike them as an egotistical stance. The audience, at any rate, seemed reluctant to let Schiff go at the end.

Friday 13 February

To Tokyo by plane

On the flight, I watched Tron: Ares (2025) out of nostalgia for the original Tron (1982), which had made a strong impression on me as a teenager. I should have abstained. This third instalment’s plot is thin as air, marred by unconvincing attempts at technological humour, and it drifts perilously close to the Marvel/DC playbook, which feels at odds with the Tron universe. One can only admire Jared Leto’s evident dramatic commitment to such an unconvincing project. Unexpectedly, the soundtrack by Nine Inch Nails, far removed from my customary musical world, helped pass the time.

And so, for now, the lights dim… until the next act.

To Dresden by plane and train

Dresden, Semperoper • I’d been without my beloved Dialogues des Carmélites for a little over a year. The reunion was all the more potent as this production proved successful on every front: simple but forceful visuals, intense, dramatic orchestral playing under Marie Jacquot, and a cast that kept the French libretto largely intelligible. There have been numerous ways of representing the Carmélites’ deaths in the final scene. By having each of them cross out her name from the wall on which the revolutionaries had scrawled the list of the condemned sisters, director Jetske Mijnssen chose an option as efficient as it was economical — effacement of martyrdom over spectacle.

Sunday 1 February

Back to Paris by train and plane

Monday 2 February

Paris, Philharmonie • Polish pianist Piotr Anderszewski combined a selection of Brahms’s pieces from opp. 116 to 119 with Beethoven’s formidable last sonata (No. 32, op. 111). He approached these staples of the repertoire with maturity and assuredness, imprinting a distinctive yet entirely convincing mark — not least through the way he reordered the Brahms pieces into a sequence that clearly made sense to him, while straying from their catalogue order. In Beethoven, Anderszewski brought out unusual inner voices and, like Jonathan Biss a few weeks earlier, emphasised the striking rhythms of what I now officially describe as “the honky-tonk section” with blissful abandon.

Wednesday 4 February

Paris, Philharmonie • Semyon Bychkov led the Orchestre de Paris in a majestic programme consisting of Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No. 1 (with Kirill Gerstein) and Strauss’s An Alpine Symphony. Bychkov was the orchestra’s musical director from 1989 to 1998, and there were probably a few musicians still on stage from that period — or even players he had hired himself. The alchemy felt powerful, all the more as Bychkov is one of those conductors who seem to achieve an almost mystical authority in their mature years. Gerstein gave a fluid performance of the Tchaikovsky, while the orchestra winningly conjured the epic proportions and rapidly shifting light of Strauss’s symphony.

Thursday 5 February

Paris, Fondation Louis-Vuitton • A retrospective exhibition of German painter Gerhard Richter once again impressed me by the breadth of the body of work on display. Richter’s journey from blurred versions of real-life scenes to full-blown abstraction and back was charted with just the right dose of pedagogy. My brain somehow decided that works based on real images, even if deformed beyond recognition by knives and scrapers, held greater fascination than fully abstract subjects, which ended up looking too similar for comfort. I regretted not trying to follow Richter’s traces in his native Dresden when I was there a few days earlier, especially the mural he painted for the Deutsches Hygiene Museum — although it appears to be in the process of being partially uncovered and restored after being painted over.

Paris, Fondation Louis-Vuitton (again, later) • Pascal Dusapin’s To Be Sung is described as an opera that “forsakes all dramaturgy and action.” In other words, it’s anything but an opera. Which doesn’t mean it isn’t an original, engaging musical object, making singular use of Gertrude Stein’s assonant, patterned prose. Le Balcon under Maxime Pascal, together with a narrator and a trio of sopranos, gave it a dreamlike texture — somewhat echoing Philip Glass’s Einstein on the Beach with its obsessive repetitions. Pharrell Williams’s “set design and lighting” are probably best left uncommented.

Friday 6 February

To Amsterdam by train

Amsterdam, Concertgebouw • Klaus Mäkelä led Amsterdam’s Concertgebouworkest in a tight yet lyrical account of Bruckner’s Symphony No. 8. Adopting deliberately slow tempos, Mäkelä emphasised melodic lines and maintained transparency throughout. The Scherzo’s Trio took on an ethereal hue, the harps sounding like greetings from another world entirely. The orchestra remained fully committed till the last note, and the fourth movement built up exultantly to one of the most enjoyable resolutions of the classical repertoire.

And so, for now, the lights dim… until the next act.