The Threepenny Opera

by Bertolt Brecht and Kurt Weill

seen at the National Theatre (Olivier) on 24 June 2016

The production is a new adaptation by Simon Stephens directed by Rufus Norris and designed by Vicki Mortimer. It features Rory Kinnear as Macheath, Nick Holder as Peachum, Haydn Gwynne as Mrs Peachum, Rosalie Craig as Polly Peachum and Sharon Small as Jenny Driver.

Brecht's technique of alienating the audience from their conventional expectations of 'an evening at the theatre' is marvellously emphasised in this production, with the vast Olivier stage exposed in all its glory, flats and flights of stairs wheeled about by the cast, the flats often faced away from the front of the stage (showing all their struts) and just as frequently revealed to be utterly flimsy as various characters burst through them to enter a scene. Occasionally the revolve is cranked onto service by means of a giant lever wheeled to the front of the stage and laboriously 'worked' by an actor; on only one occasion is the drum used to bring a pre-constructed set up to stage level.

This technical showmanship is reflected in the acting style, sharp but knowing, with occasional direct addresses to the audience to announce what is happening ('Interval!!') or comment on the action - or the audience itself for that matter. Rory Kinnear as a prowling, confident but not exactly menacing Macheath released an explosion of contemptuous anger at the beginning of the second half when he observed that the audience had chosen to remain. As this was the evening after the result of the Brexit referendum, in which Londoners had indeed voted to remain in the EU but the country as a whole had not, this was greeted with a roar of knowing laughter, only slightly dashed by Macheth's sneer that of course metrolpolitan scum would choose to remain.

Curiously, perhaps, the most consistently frightening figure was Nick Holder's Peachum, played as a camp but psychotic sadist in almost complete control of the situation; the scene in which he broke Jenny Diver's fingers was truly unpleasant. Only the ludicrous deus ex machina of the King's pardon saved Macheath from Peachum's vengeance, a resolution which neatly tied together all the means by which conventional theatrical notions of narrative plausibility and an audience's certainty about the moral compass of the play and its characters are skewered by Brecht's text and Weill's music.

Often the musical style in a Brecht / Weill collaboration comes across as hectoring and forced, given that the cabaret-like lyrics and music translate awkwardly onto a larger stage. Here the modern fashion for amplified voices came at last into its own. This is far more subtle than merely placing microphones on the stage - the technology has of course long since advanced far beyond that, and in this context it allows the actors to bring real characterisation and emotional nuance into their singing without strain, and the result contributed to a thoroughly stimulating performance.