cloth hark back to the sex
dolls of Hans Bellmer and the
fetishistic mannequins of
Man Ray. The caption tells us
they also relate to Bourgeois’
own childhood mistake of
walking in on her parents
having sex: to the traumatised
child, sex and violence are
indistinguishable.
Using cloths and domestic
fragments to deliver these
sorts of edgy psychological
messages is a stroke of genius.
The most haunting of all the
works in a haunting show is a
tiny cloth figure of a striding
man who has lost his leg and
walks with a crutch. His only
other distinguishing feature,
quickly stitched again, is an
erect penis. Leg or not, men
will be men.
The sense of a world being
observed and judged by darkly
experienced feminine eyes
continues for the whole event.
It is one of the big new
understandings she brought to
art. In the downstairs galleries,
where the work is displayed
in a cluttered fashion, the
claustrophobia seems to
enlarge the impact of the art.
Upstairs, where everything
grows more spacious and
seems less fiercely personal,
there’s a drop in intensity.
Frankly it’s a relief. cLouise Bourgeois: The Woven
Child, at the Hayward Gallery,
London SE1, until May 15on the subject of jealousy. But
it is tangibly the subject here.
Something else that’s going
on is that Bourgeois is
remembering the moods and
methods of the surrealists she
knew in Paris before she left
for New York. On top of
everything else she was,
after all, a living link with the
surrealist heyday of the 1930s.
It’s especially evident in a
series of black sculptures of
couples having sex in a
vitrine. They don’t have
heads. They don’t need them!
Some don’t have legs. They
don’t need those either! The
grim evocations of joyless sex
acted out by stuffed sacks ofthing
Alcina is one of Handel’s most
compelling creations: a
Circe-like sorceress ensnaring
her amorous victims by magic
and discarding the rejects by
transforming them into wild
beasts, trees and rocks.
The opera is being staged
twice in the UK this year, with
Tim Albery’s “potted” version
for Opera North the first.
The company justifies its
shorter production of what
is widely acknowledged as
one of the composer’s
masterpieces with the
admission that, played uncut,
the score contains more than
three hours of music, fine for
a festival (Glyndebourne’s
Alcina is up next) but
impractical. It’s a fair point.
There’s a seriousness of
purpose and scenic austerity
to Albery’s staging, done with
an accomplished team of
singer-actors who do the
drama proud.
One of Albery’s few
mistakes is changing the sex
of Alcina’s opponent, using
the libretto’s literary source
as justification: Melissa
(Claire Pascoe) becomes her
rival enchantress. She is not
only reduced to a cipher withthe cutting of two arias, but
this choice undermines the
necessary contrast of a bass
voice among predominantly
high ones.
A lifelong bachelor, Handel
could be accused of misogyny
in using Alcina as a warning to
the male sex, but she retains
our sympathy, more so than
her weak-willed inamorato.
Máire Flavin’s tall,
imposing Alcina bares her
soul in Handel’s great solos —
her singing isn’t easy on the
ear, but it’s emotionally
truthful — while Fflur Wynplays her sister, not as the
usual flighty foil but as a
mature and serious player in
this tangled game of love.
Ian William Galloway’s
striking video footage takes us
on a journey to Alcina’s island.
As Handel explores the darker
recesses of his heroine’s soul,
the camera penetrates the
island’s deepest jungle, a
“documentary” commentary
on the characters’
psychological state and a
stark contrast to the spartan
furniture — regularly
overturned by the protagonist
in extremis — of the open-box
set. The counter-tenor Patrick
Terry’s Ruggiero sings an
exquisite Verdi prati (Verdant
fields) but occasionally sounds
taxed by a role frequently sung
by higher (female) voices, while
Mari Askvik and Nick
Pritchard complete
the ensemble as a
punchy Bradamante
and Oronte. cAlcina is at Grand
Theatre, Leeds,
then touring until
Mar 24. It is live
streamed on Feb 17
on operavision.euA tangled game of love
Handel’s warning to the male sex gets a twist, says Hugh Canning
| OPERA
JAMES GLOSSOPI put a spell
on you
Máire
Flavin as
Alcina13 February 2022 17