Satyagraha, Coliseum, London, review: Toby Spence is the perfect Gandhi

Philip Glass's contemporary opera follows Mahatma Gandhi’s early years practising non-violent resistance in South Africa

Michael Church
Monday 05 February 2018 11:07 EST
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Burning conviction: recovered from throat cancer, Toby Spence has the transparent purity of his youthful tenor voice
Burning conviction: recovered from throat cancer, Toby Spence has the transparent purity of his youthful tenor voice (Donald Cooper)

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"Masterpiece" – like "great", "iconic", and "legendary" – is a word which should be used sparingly by critics, if at all. But it is absolutely the right word for the Improbable production of Philip Glass’s Satyagraha. This is currently packing out the Coliseum on its third revival, and I am as lost in admiration as I was the first time round. Lost is indeed the word, because there are scenes which are still to me inscrutable, if in a tantalisingly pleasurable way. I love the music, with its ear-charming repetitions, but that’s only a component: the real magic lies in this inspired marriage of sight and sound.

"Operas aren’t history, they’re poetry," says Glass. "They don’t have to tell the truth." In a nutshell the plot follows Mahatma Gandhi’s early years with his satyagrahis (adherents of non-violent resistance) in South Africa, and his ‘spiritual guardians’ colour each of the acts: Leo Tolstoy who inspired him, Rabindranath Tagore who counselled him, and Martin Luther King who carried on the torch of peaceful mass-resistance after he had died. Not much happens, but it’s all played out with such sacramental seriousness, and on a kaleidoscopically-changing backdrop, that we are held riveted. Improbable’s ‘skills ensemble’ creates cows, crocodiles, jousting giants and Hindu gods with somnambulistic purpose and precision, yet it’s all done with pea-sticks, papier-mache, Scotch tape, and painterly lighting. The final scene, in which Gandhi becomes John the Baptist to King’s apotheosis in a plinth, is spellbindingly beautiful.

The piece is nobly served by its new cast. While conductor Karen Kamensek keeps the pulse lovingly regular, the chorus transforms itself with burning conviction; soprano Charlotte Beament, as Gandhi’s secretary, maintains her stratospheric vocal line with tightrope precision. And in Toby Spence we get the perfect Gandhi: now completely recovered after his battle with throat cancer, he has also recovered the transparent purity of his youthful tenor voice.

Until 27 February (eno.org)

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