Opus
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Opus

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This is tricky. On the one hand, Opus is a nasty, disturbing piece of theatre – it was like an episode of The Following at the circus. On the other hand, the Circa ensemble and the Debussy Quartet playing Shostakovich in their midst were extraordinary.

It started with the promise of something heart warming – the Debussy Quartet were playing on billowing sheets, which made it look like they were playing in the clouds. That was about the last happy moment in the production – the rest was joyless and bleak. For instance, there was one piece reminiscent of a concentration camp (the Circa outfit separated into rows of men and women, dressed in grey and in throes, literally, of distress). At another point, the Debussy Quartet were blindfolded possibly waiting for a firing squad.

Everything was purposefully a bit NQR. For instance, the first circus work involved a dude doing what normally would have been a tissu act with what appeared to be bandages and jerking about in spasm. Hurtling bodies also featured, but it smacked of menace and violence. There was a lot of “oohing” from the crowd, but not in the way you do when you see a feat of daring or wonder, it was the audible expression of a wince.

The best bits involved Circa manhandling the Debussy Quartet. At one stage one of the circus lads led a violinist about, blindfolded, and then leaned him forwards and backwards at more than a fair tilt, while the bloke kept playing – that was game. At another point, the Quartet backed themselves into a circle and one of the Circa lasses wended her way between their legs and worked her way up and down a violinist like a cat. Those were moments of wonder.

BY MEG CRAWFORD