Phaedra + Minotaur, Linbury Review 5*

Ancient Greek myth comes powerfully alive in Phaedra + Minotaur, which pairs Britten and Brandstrup at the Linbury…

Taken individually, Benjamin Britten’s cantata Phaedra and Kim Brandstrup’s ballet Minotaur each packs a powerful punch. Together, though, they inform and mirror each other in unforeseen ways, creating a seamless performance that resonates and haunts way beyond its combined 70 minutes.

Both works distil the very essence of their subject: for Britten the unravelling Phaedra, racked with suicidal guilt for her cursed passion for her stepson; for Brandstrup, her sister Ariadne, abandoned by Theseus whom she had helped slay the Minotaur.

Britten’s last vocal work, Phaedra’s intensity is blood-chilling. Mezzo soprano Christine Rice’s Phaedra staggers onto the stark black and white set (designer Antony McDonald), seemingly compelled by the single, ominous notes emanating from the grand piano on which Richard Hetherington plays a reduction of the score.

The body of her half-brother, the Minotaur, lies shrouded, as does that of her stepson Hippolytus, both now distorted memories on her deranged mind. She sings Robert Lowell’s searing text, the story of her cursed, forbidden love, which rejection only fuelled further, with terrifying clarity.

Rice’s is a very physical, frenzied performance, that sees her pace the stage stopping at what appears familiar yet strange, raising pleas to heaven, or kneeling in a defeated premonition of death.

When Deborah Warner’s staging of Phaedra premiered at the Royal Opera as part of a lockdown programme, Rice was justly nominated for an Olivier Award.

Deborah Warner brought Phaedra back to the stage when she became director of the Ustinov Studio in Bath; and she commissioned the UK-based Danish choreographer Kim Brandstrup to create a companion piece.

Brandstrup’s Minotaur is a prodigy of economic story-telling, served by three outstanding veteran dancers: Jonathan Goddard as Theseus, Kristen McNally as Ariadne and Tommy Franzén as first the Minotaur, then Dionysus.

The set, also by Antony McDonald, contrasts violently with the bright starkness of Phaedra’s. Here an imposing black wall is stained with a red gash of blood, Chris Wilkinson’s lighting penumbra broken by milky shafts of light.

Divided into short sections, the piece opens with ‘Combat’, a duet for Theseus and the Minotaur, a strangely hypnotic slow motion push-pull of superhuman strength, that never strays beyond pure dance.

The duet for Theseus and Ariadne in ‘Seduction’, which follows, is equally physical but its nature is deeply erotic, with clinches and lifts developing into elongated, desire-filled lines.

But Theseus won’t stay, despite Ariadne’s pleading. The final section, ‘Deus ex Machina’, where the abandoned Ariadne is watched by the god Dionysus, is wondrous. Tommy Franzén watches from above before climbing down the vertical wall’s narrow holds with the kind of weightless agility you don’t think possible.

A hint of mischief in his smile, repeatedly beckoning her with the allure of a wild animal, he will bring Ariadne back to his domain as one of his acolytes. Slowly, he conquers.

Like all Brandstrup works, Minotaur asks to be seen again and again. It’s still very much on my mind the day after, and will remain for many more days to come.

Phaedra + Minotaur is at the ROH Linbury Theatre 6 – 11 February 2025. All info and tickets here

Phaedra + Minotaur, Linbury Review 5*

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