Prima Donna, Sunday 12th 3pm showing
I arrive at the Palace Theatre on a rather drizzly Sunday afternoon to be met by a throng of people surrounding a beardy man in a top hat in the foyer, ooh it’s Rufus Wainwright here to greet his fans, prior to the performance. This is a nice personal touch, and quite unexpected.For the performance I find myself seated in the circle with a wonderful view of the stage. The auditorium is filled with a dark orchestral jazz as the audience take their seats, setting the atmosphere nicely. Prima Donna is an accessible two act opera in French, LCD screens dotted about the theatre helpfully provide an English translation. The first act opens with Régine’s nightmare, a flashback to her former fame; through the screen of an old poster bearing her face we see her enter through massive doors as flashes indicate paparazzi presence from which she tries to flee. This was her final performance as Alienor D’Aquitaine six years ago, and her subsequent heartbreak, from which she has never recovered. Régine then sings imploringly of her need to fly again with a broken wing. Marie, her maid, vows to help her recover the voice of her youth which signals a change in their relationship, she can now call her Régine. A kitchen set behind a perspex screen with an irate husband smashing plates, allows us a glimpse into Marie’s home life and an understanding of the reasons behind her commitment to Régine’s rejuvenation.
This stylistic device is used to good effect several times within the play allowing us to see scenes within scenes and multiple viewpoints. Enter Phillipe, the evil butler, dressed in white fur coat, lime green suit and porkpie hat looking like a cross between The Joker and a guest at Andy Warhol’s Factory. He’s accompanied by Francios, dressed as a bell
hop. Phillipe sings of Régine’s past glories and how she’s let her standards slip. As they prepare for the arrival of André, the journalist, revealing a leopard skin chaise longue from under a dust sheet and placing a majestic candelabra on the piano, we see Régine getting ready in her boudoir which drifts across the stage. Phillipe sings of his regrets for the mistakes of their past, signalling the potential for those same mistakes to be repeated.
A last minute change of costume for Marie from her informal attire into a comic pink maid’s outfit, and they are ready to receive their guest. André arrives to much bowing and scraping by Phillipe and Francois who then leave to observe proceedings with Marie on the balcony above Régine’s boudoir. Régine enters looking most demure with perfectly coiffed red bouffant, elegant black dress and diamond cuff, earrings and brooch at her hip. She is at once taken aback by the resemblance the journalist bears to the man who broke her heart, her former leading tenor, her Henry. When André reveals how he adored her as a young student, and his wish to sing Henry’s part, romance blossoms and they are soon at the piano singing the iconic love duet from Alienor. Régine’s voice breaks at the climax to the piece, and much embarrassed she realises she’s not yet ready to sing. Phillipe orders Régine to rest and Marie to care for her whilst trying to placate André.
Act II opens again with Régine’s nightmare this time revisiting Phillipe’s clumsy pass. Régine then attempts to solve the puzzle of why her voice failed her in the presence of André when she can sing it all in isolation. Her mind drifts back to her fateful performance allowing this audience to witness it’s magnificence and the betrayal by her Henry, which Phillipe cruelly leads her to discover. Her white dress is stained with blood at her chest suggesting her heart has been ripped out. We, the audience, play a part in this scene by providing applause for her multiple encores. The music which accompanies her musings is very reminiscent of the opening score to Hitchcock’s Vertigo. She concludes that what drove her magical performance was love, and what the audience witnessed was real, her memory of heartbreak prevents her return to form and therefore she refuses to return to the stage. The news is not well received by Phillipe who is brash and abrasive, insulting Régine brutally (which prompts all to cry “call the police!” ), before exiting her life forever. André, the journalist, returns and introduces Régine to Sophie, his fiancée, which she takes in good grace and wishes them well. He requests her autograph on his copy of the recording of her final performance to which she agrees, before announcing the end of her career saying this will be her last autograph. She then decides her last autograph should actually be on her copy of the recording which she gives to Marie. But in fact her last autograph is on Francois’ chest as he rips open his bell hop’s jacket to receive it before everyone leaves Régine in peace to watch the Bastille Day Fireworks.
She comments that the fireworks display was much shorter than she thought it would be, suggesting the same applies to the time of her life when she had love, passion and success, when she had vibrancy. The fireworks are over.
I enjoyed watching Prima Donna, not usually being an opera viewer I’m unsure how true to form this was, but felt that this was a fond homage by Rufus. It kept me engaged, there were many comic moments, the characters were larger than life, the costumes were wonderful and it was highly camp. The set designers made good use of the Palace Theatre’s potential for stage trickery and special effects and I enjoyed the modern elements of jazz and filmic themes in the musical score. Well done Rufus!
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