Leslie Kerwin visits the exhibition and meets curator, Zoe Watson to find out how she shining a spotlight on the shared thrill of live performance.

It was Émile Durkheim who first coined the term ‘collective effervescence’. The sociologist was fascinated by the sacred, powerful force of a crowd united by a shared anticipation: the rise from a pew, the soar of a football, the second before a performer sings. In the Lowry’s latest art exhibition, the eye of the spotlight is this time turned on the audience for an experience as unearthly as it is mind-twirlingly meta.  

Put together over several years by curator Zoe Watson. ‘Curtain Up’ is a multi-sensory exhibition that twists between several rooms. A maze of paintings, photographs, cinema, and participatory sculpture, the exhibition is a scrawling love letter to everyone who has ever had their heart swelled by a performance – or had the hairs on their neck stand on end. It features the work of a string of artists – including brand new works from Manchester-based artists Chris Paul Daniels and Rowland Hill, and award-winning German artist Ulla von Brandenburg – and sprawls across settings as diverse as red velvet theatres to clattering nightclubs.  

‘Curtain Up’ is much like a carnival ride: calm upon clambering onto, and quick to tilt into a brightly-lit frenzy of dreamlike sensation. The entryway galleries are carefully-placed to create a sense of wonder, featuring immense and somewhat liminal pieces from Bridget Smith and Ulla von Brandenburg that pull you into a theatre only minutes from opening its doors. A series of paintings by Denzil Forrester and Joy Labinjo bridge the rose-tinted nostalgias of community centre performances and thumping nightclubs, and the historic importance of local performances spaces is charmingly captured by collage artist Abigail Reynolds.  

Mere feet away from the soft whimsy of childhood memories, the deeper crevices of ‘Curtain Up’ unveil an edgier, moodier response to the theme of crowd anticipation. Chris Paul Daniels’ ‘Give Yourself a Round of Applause’ is a monologue built from the back-of-the-mind thoughts and feelings of a theatre audience, whose 15-minute film features footage sourced from the North West Film Archive. Meanwhile, Rowland Hill presents her biggest and most impressive installation to date: ‘Relic’, a dizzying audio-visual experience built from 14 years of documenting the Loughborough Fair – one of the oldest surviving medieval charter fairs – and uniquely, involves audience members in the piece itself during an unforgettable 12-minute loop.  

“All of these were artists I’d been following for a very long time, so I was really familiar with their work when I was thinking about the concept of the show,” says Watson.

“I realised that being in the Lowry sort of shapes the show. Every day, I’m seeing people come in and out of the building, and at different times of the day, there’s different activity in the building. But there’s always people in the space: that always inspired and influenced the show.  

“It’s a celebration of people, and a celebration of coming together collectively to experience things. I hope that people realise the power of that, and really protect these spaces that do amazing performances and things.”  

Diverse, nostalgic, and with an unshakeably ‘curiouser and curiouser’ feel, ‘Curtain Up’ is a delightfully meta experience built upon a unique and deeply human concept. With its mix of static and moving installations, this is an exhibition best digested slowly.

Remember to feel the anticipation – and enjoy the knowledge that you’re sharing it with your fellow visitors too.  

 Curtain Up is at Lowry, Salford, from 18 April to 21 June 2026.  

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The pair are stuck in a doom loop of waiting for you-know-who and wile away their time in petty bickering and philosophical musings. The scarred landscape (Beckett modelled it on Roussillon where he holed up during the Nazi occupation of France) is served in the production by the ragged placement of car seats acting as respite against the elements, the ground speckled with dirt. The lighting in particular deserves special mention for the soft hues it throws onto the stage, suggesting hope for when a new day eventually dawns.

Kelly and Costigan are a joy to watch, their dependency on each other as sad and wistful as it is necessary. The finish each other’s sentences, grimace and groan in unison, embrace and withdraw just as sharply, and take delight in each other’s misery. A true friendship then. Costigan gives us a Vladimir to remember, by turns hopeful and disdainful, his Salford accent providing a caustic edge to the character’s ruminations on life and death. Kelly is the more morose of the two, employing lugubrious facial expressions to convey the depths of his despair, the perfect foil to Costigan’s optimism.

But this is not just a two-hander: there are notable performances from Gbolohan Obisesan as slaver driver Pozzo and Michael Hodgson as the unlucky Lucky. Obisesan enters the stage with Lucky on a leash looking like a cross between a warlord and a rapper and delivers what can only be described as masterful portrayal of this enigmatic character. It is Hodgson, however, who deserves – and gets – most credit as the put-upon Lucky. He is bloodied from rope round his neck and infected with pus but retains a vital spark of humanity. When he is told by Pozzo to ‘think, pig’, Hodgson had the audience spellbound with his difficult monologue and was rewarded with a just round of applause.

The play is a treatise on the human condition and the monotony of life – ‘habit is a great deadener’, Valdimir reminds us – but what it shows most clearly is that out of boredom and waiting comes humour (it’s easy sometimes to forget how funny the play is), friendship, and entertaining diversions.  While waiting on the road we never quite know who may turn up, even if it’s not the person we’ve been waiting for all along. Having miserably failed to hang themselves, Kelly and Costigan stand motionless in indecision unsure whether to stay or go, an apt metaphor for the human condition.

A must-see show.

Waiting for Godot is at The Octagon Theatre, Bolton from 15 April to 2 May 2026.

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Noel Coward pours a lot into his dramatic soup and right from the start the ingredients are on display for a feast of drama: unrequited love, settling for second best in a relationship, choosing domesticity over passion, and just what is the correct attitude to adopt towards life. If the play feels dated, it can still be held up to the light through such universal themes.

With sharp direction by Blanche McIntyre and a set which continuously revolves – sometimes faster, sometimes slower – to give a distorting sense of time passing, the play reminds us that if we seek happiness in desire we will ultimately be disappointed. Jill Halfpenny (Waterloo Road, EastEnders) gives us an Amanda fatally attracted by past love Elyot and hoping that second time round they can recreate the passion which first brought them together, even at the cost of abandoning their respective partners. Halfpenny turns in a fiery performance as a woman determined to make her own choices, wrong or otherwise. When she launches herself at the beastly Elyot it is a moment of unalloyed drama.

But it is Steve John Shepherd – complete with bolt-on hairpiece – who steals the show with his louche portrayal of Elyot, all James Mason drawl and whispering cigarette smoke. He is maddening and is meant to be. His advice is to laugh at life and hope it doesn’t laugh back in your face – down with the moralists and up with irony because the alternative is too awful to contemplate. Elyot appears effete on the surface but Shepherd shows him to be full of bubbling molten lava inside, ready to explode at any minute. Quite a brilliant performance.

It all makes it very difficult for spurned spouses Shazia Nicholls as Sybil and Daniel Millar as Victor to make their mark. The final scene in which they confront Elyot and Amanda – and in turn vent their deflected spleen on each other – feels histrionic if necessary.  This is due more to the clockwork plotting of Coward than to any actorly deficiency. When Elyot labels Victor a ‘gasbag’ it’s hard to disagree, but Millar lends him the right amount of wounded decency we can all empathise with. Nicholls pits her youth and naivety against the others’ jaded immorality and in doing so reveals Sibyl to be not simply a victim of infidelity but someone who can see it for what it is, human weakness.

Some of the attitudes in the play are antediluvian and come with a warning but there is no denying the power of this production. The one liners come fast and furious and Shepherd is fantastic as Elyot at delivering non-sequiturs which leave you wondering about his state of mind. As Coward shows, to live with someone is to relinquish your private life.

Private Lives is at The Royal Exchange Theatre from 27 March to 2 May 2026.

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There’s no simple answer to this, though a quick fix of escapism is a guaranteed, short term antidote. Top Hat is now on stage, in a new adaptation by Matthew White and Howard Jacques. The show’s USP is multi award-winning double threat Kathleen Marshall, a premier league director and choreographer, feted for an acclaimed series of shows on Broadway, and in the West End (her brother is film director Rob Marshall, so it must be in the genes).

I have to admit to being late to this particular party, only discovering Kathleen Marshall’s talents with the Barbican production of ‘Anything Goes‘ a few years back. The latter was a dazzling piece of popular art, quite unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. Marshall brings the same eye for glamour and sophistication to Top Hat. If it doesn’t surpass ‘Anything Goes’, it is certainly the equal; impressive enough to convert a musical heretic to the joys of song and dance. 

In New York, wealthy producer Horace Hardwick (James Hume) hires American entertainer Jerry Travers (Phillip Attmore, possessing Zeus like dancing abilities) to headline a new musical show. The action then zips across the Atlantic to London. Jerry stays in Horace’s hotel suite, and his night time dance episodes (described as ‘tapititus’) are irksome enough to wake pretty Dale Tremont (Nicole-Lily Baisden, a pint size package of fizzy energy) in the room below. When she stomps up to Horace’s suite to tell Jerry to keep it down, he falls instantly in love. The next day, Jerry follows Dale around London, croons and charms until she can resist no longer.

This being the 1930’s, she neglects to ask his name – yes, this is the improbable dramatic device on which Top Hat pivots, because Dale now believes Jerry is Horace (who she’s never actually met). Next stop, Venice. Dale knows Horace is married to sassy redhead friend Madge (Emma Williams), who informs Dale that her husband is staying in the same hotel. Misunderstandings quickly pile on top of each other. To say more would spoil the ride.

Attmore and Baisden make a charming lead couple, though are in danger of being upstaged by the sub plot players, Hume and Williams. Hume is a hilarious bundle of bristling neurosis, seemingly afraid of everything – particularly air travel. “I get frightened when I arrive at the airport, and see the word ‘departures.” Act 2’s secret weapon is Williams who crackles with attitude and whip smart put downs. Hume and Williams have such chemistry, it would be great to see these performers return in a spin off.  

I still recall versatile James Clyde from a run of mid 90’s appearances at the Royal Exchange; he deserves a mention for his droll turn as Horace’s jaded valet, Bates. Likewise understudy Zak Edwards, who brings a controlled, toreador energy to the role of flamboyant dress maker, Alberto Beddini.

The mark of a gifted designer is when their work stays in the mind, rather than fading after the curtain. Peter McKintosh’s sumptuous set is a giant art deco clock; at various points, the face spins open to reveal different rooms and suites. Alongside Yvonne Milnes, McKintosh has also created the fabulous costumes. Every member of the company is immaculately attired. Top Hat exists in a rarefied atmosphere of covetous excellence (I’m almost tempted to break into the theatre at night, and steal a souvenir – perhaps Jerry’s duck egg blue suit).

Alongside Cole Porter, Irving Berlin was the prime mover of the great American songbook. His best known tunes might be ‘White Christmas’ and ‘No Business Like Showbusiness’ but those featured in Top Hat are easily the most melodic: ‘Cheek to Cheek’, ‘Putting on the Ritz’, ‘Let’s Face the Music and Dance’ are ear worms that take up permanent residence. The undoubted highpoint of Marshall’s production is ‘Top Hat, White Tie and Tails.’ This is a dance team operating as a hive mind, a series of jaw dropping sequences which include intimate groupings, spiral stage crossing, and dancers tossing and catching canes across parallel lines. How is this sort of thing even possible? A scene like this belongs in a choreographer’s textbook; a blueprint for what the art form can achieve.    

Top Hat is as bracing as a glass of chilled champagne in a cryogenic ice bath. But you will have to hurry: this Chichester Festival production is at the end of its tour (Southampton Mayflower follows this Lowry run).   

Top Hat is at Lowry, Salford from 2 to 4 April 2026.

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Having taught herself to read as an infant, Matilda (Madison Davis) is leagues apart from the rest of her television-obsessed family. Mr Wormwood (Adam Stafford) is an engine-stuffing, motor meddling, Vinny Gambino-esque secondhand car dealer, and his wife Mrs Wormwood (Rebecca Thornhill) is just as eyebrow raising, if you don’t buy that she really is ‘just practising’ with her World Amateur Flamenco Competition partner Rudolpho (Ryan Lay) in the living room. Matilda’s brother Michael (Samuel Leon) is the supposed brains of the family – yes, he’s apparently got one. Somewhere.  

Life for Matilda goes impossibly further south after her parents enrol her in her new primary school, Crunchem Hall. A concrete jungle ruled over by an ex-Olympic hammer throwing champion, Agatha Trunchbull’s (Richard Hurst) reign of terror is defined by her motto BAMBINATUM EST MAGGITUM: children are maggots. Her hatred of children puts her at odds with reception teacher Miss Honey (Tessa Kadler), a woman forever trembling with her own self-doubt, whose insecurity belies a deep fascination with her strange new student. Miss Honey and Matilda have a lot to learn from each other – they may also have far more in common than they realise.  

‘Matilda: The Musical’ is indescribably brilliant. At just shy of two-and-a-half hours long, this performance would be a mean feat for any seasoned actor – let alone a cast dominated by children under 12, who share roles between shows. Sharp, assured, and yet deeply, shyly vulnerable, Madison Davis as this particular Matilda is everything every child imagines when growing up reading the original book. Bruce Bogtrotter (Brodie Robson) is a standout act for his lead in ‘Revolting Children’, and Sana Lennon as Lavender is a delight to watch skittering across the stage – an especially incredible debut for the only cast member without any formal theatre training.  

Miss Trunchbull is cocky, cruel, and hilariously, brilliantly camp from beginning to end, and Miss Honey quietly sneaks the audience’s hearts as she is forced to confront her own demons. Esther Niles as Mrs Phelps plays a much bigger role than in the original story, and is for a long time Matilda’s only support – a heartwarming watch, and comforting anchor in a story so chaotic from scene to scene.  

‘Matilda: The Musical’ makes interesting strays from the original book’s story, perhaps explained by Dennis Kelly’s screenwriting background in gritty dramas and surreal comedy. The biggest change is the decision to cut back on Matilda’s telekinetic powers, which she originally develops as a toddler because her brain is so large, it pushes the extra energy out of her eyes. Instead, much of the play is driven by Matilda’s dogged sense of justice, and her frustration at the state of her life – “Nobody but me is going to change my story,” after all. For a change so drastic, it is a shift that only sharpens the show’s edge: this is a Matilda that is entirely self-driven, and far more relatable than her aloof, superpowered inspiration. To see this tiny girl abused is a vastly more disturbing watch.  

However, with so much of the plot hinging on Matilda’s telekinesis, powers eventually do play a role in the second act – I only wish they had been introduced slightly earlier than the infamous newt scene. Shockingly for a performance already eclipsing the average theatre runtime, the show could benefit from an extra scene or two to fully flesh out this part of its story. Time may be well spent in the way it introduces characters, settings, and songs, but the introduction of her powers felt slightly out of left field: ‘Oh, so she does have powers in the end – wait, the show’s nearly over!’  

In all, ‘Matilda: The Musical’ is nothing short of out-of-this-world entertainment. This show embellishes an intergenerational classic with a surreal, dreamlike retelling, and is a fantastic showcase of the brilliance of the UK’s youngest theatrical talent. Brilliantly staged, beautifully scored, and with a blindingly talented cast both big and small, if you’re on the fence about tickets, treat yourself – sometimes you have to be a little bit naughty.  

Matilda the Musical is at The Palace Theatre Manchester from 26 March until 25 April 2026 before continuing on tour.

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“There’s a script?”

“Not tonight there’s not!”

Ladies and gentlemen, we hope you’re having a lovely evening – and if you’re not sharing a bed with your appropriately-aged best friend, how could you be? In celebration of the comedians’ 100th birthdays, the UK’s leading Morecambe and Wise tribute act has returned after a sellout tour in 2022. Now at Lowry, Salford for a limited-edition run, ‘Eric & Ern’ guarantees a night of love, sunshine and laughter for fans old and new alike.

After a sparkling debut at the Edinburgh Fringe (or technically, their five-minute skit at the Stage Golfing Society’s ‘70s Night in 2002), Jonty Stephens (Eric Morecambe) and Ian Ashpitel (Ernie Wise) have brought the UK’s greatest variety show back from the grave – and even brought in their own Eddie Braben-inspired jokes as a bonus. In a glittering new remaster, the 2026 tour spills over with treasures from the ice cream van, to Mr Memory (‘Arsenal!’), and more, all delivered with a fondness palpable from beginning to end.

“The diehard Morecambe and Wise fans, who grew up with Morecambe and Wise, all bring their children and grandchildren now,” Stephens remarked in a Quays Life interview earlier this month – and reader, include your reviewer in the latter category. At 22, I’m just past the vintage of the dynamic duo, but that doesn’t mean the joy of watching Morecambe play the ‘right keys in the wrong order’ was in any way diminished. Charming, innocent, with the odd poke at pettiness, my first impression of this Morecambe and Wise was somewhere near Bert and Ernie after a sherry too many – and I couldn’t have asked for a better introduction.

Stephens and Ashpitel are a delight to watch as they skip onto the stage, and are brilliant in their rosy revival of a bygone era of comedy. Childish, twitching, and unwavering in his commitment to jumping to the wrong conclusion, Stephens’ Morecambe is forever fizzing with nervous energy. Ashpitel’s Wise, meanwhile, remains the proud peacock of the pair, swanning under the spotlights with an unshakeable charm – which quickly goes down the pan at the slightest breath of wind towards his hairline. The new dynamic duo know their inspirations back-to-front and inside-out, and are uncanny in their apparent ability to read each other’s minds; no wonder an audience member asked if they were about to propose!

And like every great Morecambe and Wise act, there is – as ever – an unfortunate stooge to be used, abused, and bemused, and West End performer Olivia Fines fits the bill perfectly. Having performed “across the world, and in Stockport”, Fines’ brilliant vocals make her a class act on stage, as does her willingness to join in the fun of her hapless hosts. Her rendition of ‘Where are the Clowns’ is beautifully soulful – oh Olivia, if only you would just look behind you!

Stephens and Ashpitel’s ‘Eric & Ern’ is what you get when you put the souls of two old men inside two little boys inside two middle aged men with a dream. The jokes stack, the personalities rival, and the delightful charm of golden age comedy is beautifully revived.

‘Eric & Ern’ is a sprawling banquet of jokes both old and new, and leaves no stone unturned in its tribute to Britain’s greatest dynamic duo. “If you liked this show, we’ve been Morecambe and Wise – and if you haven’t, we’ve been Mike and Bernie Winters!”

We loved it!

Eric & Ern is at Lowry, Salford fro 22-28 March 2026.

Read our interview with stars Ian Ashpitel and Jonty Stephens.

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What begins as a bitter Brit Awards rivalry quickly descends into all-out war when second-place Oasis announce their next single will land a week before Blur’s. Dressed-down, and proudly, aggressively Northern, the working-class Oasis are the rock star shadow of Blur’s Southern, middle-class ‘problem drinker musicians’, who are now facing a looming CD-sale crisis. With the threat of being overshadowed by their ‘Gunchester’ rivals, Blur brings forward their release date, and in a blaring rush of bombshell interviews, packaging crises, and fizzing, electric resentment, the Battle of Britpop explodes into being.  

Straight from the mind of John Niven and expertly directed by Matthew Dunster, ‘The Battle’ is a grinning two fingers after Oasis’ grand reunion last summer, and a welcome throwback to a moment in music we’re unlikely to witness again. Part biography, part drama, and total comedy from beginning to end, ‘The Battle’ wades through the six weeks leading up to Oasis and Blur’s joint release date in a retelling as razor-sharp as it is mischievously neutral to both sides. Ahead of ‘The Battle’s’ opening night, Niven knew he’d be faced with the “stupid question” on everyone’s minds, to which he said simply: “It’s music, not football. You don’t have to pick a team. [And] if you can’t get the beauty in all that stuff, I don’t know what to tell you.”  

In a story where both sides are as hilariously trash-talking as the other, Paddy Stafford is a standout act as the swaggering, tongue-gnashing Noel Gallagher. Explosively offensive and raucously witty, the boy from Burnage dominates his every scene, and is a magnetic watch from beginning to end. Mathew Horne (Gavin and Stacey, Bad Education) as Blur’s Andy Ross is a manager forever teetering on the edge, and Will Taylor as Graham Coxon drunkenly staggers his way to crowd favourite by the show’s finale.  

Beyond four-letter outbursts and swigs of spirits, all that plunges the bands further into rivalry is the rumour-mill frenzy of the press – a fact poked at between scenes with the use of real radio clips from the era. Between dizzying bursts of music video, real presenters including Jo Whiley and Steve Lamacq are reduced to slapdash cartoons that bathe the stage, in a move as comical as it is tongue-in-cheek. A brilliant way to sneak extra time for building the more inventive stage setups.  

In its retelling of ‘mostly real events’ in the Oasis-Blur clash, ‘The Battle’ isn’t afraid to go beyond the limits of history to possibilities more exciting. With the show dicing up a sparkling line of wit and anxiety, it’s inevitable there’ll be a finale that hits hard. In a pinball frenzy of scenes from melodramatic to bizarre, ‘The Battle’ at last explodes into its own identity as a performance that stands on its own two feet. Far from a play-by-play of history, this is a show for the nineties teens who, in that fateful August in 1995, saw the war between Oasis and Blur and bought a CD from both. A real trick shot of a performance.  

The Battle is at The Opera House, Manchester from 17-21 March 2026

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With feminism under attack as never before from the rise of the manosphere, a play which champions women’s economic freedom within marriage and their ability to make their own choices is admirable. Maugham here presents marriage as a transactional relationship where women stay silent on the subject of infidelity in exchange for ‘bed and board’ and economic reassurance. 

Constance Middleton (played with sophisticated elan by Kara Tointon) is the eponymous constant wife. She breezes on stage with the unruffled elegance of a superyacht, determined not to be blown off course by the domestic tribulations presented by philandering husband and Harley Street surgeon John. He has patients, she has patience. Her mother Sara Clover (a brilliant performance by the great Sara Crowe) dispenses ditsy advice to keep quiet and accept that men are born to be unfaithful (at least it’s with your best friend, she says, and not someone you don’t know); while Constance’s sister Martha – the paragon of the independent new woman – is all for tearing down the shibboleths of marriage and confronting the guilty parties. In the end, Constance decides forgiveness is a more powerful weapon than revenge. 

With music by Jamie Cullen and sharp direction from Tamara Harvey, this dialogue-heavy play is given a much-needed lift which keeps it bobbing along nicely. There are some delicious double entendres and the set – all tennis whites and art nouveau abstraction – underscores how the glitter of marriage may just be that once the shine has worn off. 

The drama, such as it is, effectively ends with the first act and much of the second act is spent explaining the first. But you can only get by on so many apothegms about the relative personality traits of men and women before wanting to set fire to the playbook. Constance is indeed constant (annoyingly so), not wanting to upend a cosy domestic set-up, but at what cost? She goes into business with her sister and finds she is able to support herself but chooses not to leave John, instead paying him a year’s rent for board and lodging at the family home. At this point, anything seems possible. 

There is some fine acting in the production. Tim Delap gives us a John terrified less of being caught out by his wife than being societally shamed by the thought of her going away on holiday with another man. Said man, Bernard Kersal (played with puppyish sincerity by Alex Mugnaioni) is the real love of her life but Constance is too much of a realist to fall for him. Jocasta King is perfect as the femme fatale, all swoon and swagger, while Amy Vicary-Smith plays Martha with strident urgency. 

The final word, however, must go to Philip Rham as Bentley the butler who – like all butlers, of course – knows everything about everyone and in the end is the only person you can rely upon for being straight down the line. 

The Constant Wife is at Lowry, Salford from 17-21 March 2026.

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The curtain rises on his bloated corpse, washed up on the shore, half-clothed and tangled in fishing net. There is no orchestral overture. Instead, the audience sit in silence taking in the brutality of the scene before the music interrupts like a crashing wave. The chorus quickly assembly a courtroom made of driftwood, and we are taken back in time to watch Grimes give witness testimony at the inquest of his young apprentice, lost at sea.

This revival of director Phyllida Lloyd’s 2006 award-winning production has been co-directed by Karolina Sofulak and Tim Claydon, maintaining all the cinematic intensity of Lloyd’s original vision.

Visually there are some impressive elements, including rabble-rousing, flame-wielding crowds and an all-encompassing fishing net that fills Lowry’s lyric stage. However, on the whole Anthony Ward’s set is largely bare, with grey backdrops that appear to go on forever, evoking a sense of the deep vastness of the sea.

This sense of deep and at times violent movement is mirrored by Britten’s atmospheric score, and conductor Garry Walker leads the Opera North orchestra in a terrific upswell of music that leaves us feeling we are caught up in the ebbs and flows of the tide.

There is wonderful characterisation throughout by a talented team of principals, ensemble and chorus, led by tenor John Findon as Grimes. His performance draws us into the complexity of this character, almost a child in a huge man’s body who is obsessed with the sea and liable to uncontrolled outbursts of frustration. Even at his most violent Findon finds the humanity in this outsider who is both vulnerable and abusive. The tenderness of his vocals in the arias is spellbinding.

Grimes is a powerful, triumphant revival. The stunned silence of the audience before the eruption of applause is testament to the depth of emotions this production reaches.

Peter Grimes is at Lowry, Salford on 13 March 2026.

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Even if it is your first time at the opera, The Marriage of Figaro will be familiar from the very start. Mozart’s opening overture, sometimes known as the ‘unofficial wedding march,’ is instantly recognisable. The story is also an easy way in. It is a comedy of the silliest kind; often farcical with people dressing in ridiculous disguises, hiding in cupboards and escaping through windows.

It is based on Beaumarchais 1778 play, scandalous at the time for its mocking of the upper classes and their entitled ways. Fast forward to 2026 and this new production from director Louisa Muller, set in contemporary England, arrives against a background of the Epstein files which are revealing a seedy world of rich and famous men using and abusing young women for their own entertainment.

This opera being a comedy, here the tone is kept light, with the philandering Count Almaviva (James Newby) attempting to seduce young Susanna (Claire Lees), one of his house staff who is soon to be married to Figaro (Liam James Karai) and being foiled at every turn by his staff’s cunning wit.

Susanna makes an allegiance with the Countess (Gabriella Reyes) to play the Count at his own game, until he is forced to see the folly of his ways. Several amusing sub-plots add to the drama, while the chorus enter and exit the stage in various guises such as tourists wandering through the house and wedding guests.

While on the surface this might all sound a bit thin for a 3 hour plus show, there are no dips in this fast-paced, superbly sung production. Madeleine Boyd’s impressive set immerses us in the sprawling spaces of a country mansion that, like it’s owner, is in need of some updating.

There is some wonderful ensemble singing as well as showstopping arias from the two principal sopranos all underpinned by the energy of the Orchestra of Opera North conducted by Valentine Peleggi.

The strong female hands on all elements of this production give us a fun and fresh look at this centuries old tale, adding a teaser at the end where we see the Countess recognising she can stand on her own so another time, if he doesn’t change his ways, the Count might not be so lucky.  

 The Marriage of Figaro is at Lowry Salford on 12 and 14 March 2026.                           

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