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Dead Man Trudging London
English National Opera
11/01/2025 - & November 4, 8, 12*, 15, 18, 2025
Jake Heggie: Dead Man Walking
Christine Rice (Sister Helen Prejean), Michael Mayes (Joseph De Rocher), Sarah Connolly (Mrs Patrick De Rocher), Madeline Boreham (Sister Rose), Andrew Manea (Warden George Benton), Ronald Samm (Father Grenville), Gweneth Ann Rand (Kitty Hart), Jacques Imbrailo (Owen Hart), Catherine Carby (Jade Boucher), Hubert Francis (Howard Boucher), Zwakele Tshabalala (Motorcycle cop), Michael Lafferty (Older brother), Marcus Swietlicki (Younger brother), Olivia Rose Tringham (Sister Catherine), Amy Holyland (Sister Lillianne), Alaric Green (Prison Guard 1), Malachy Frame (Prison Guard 2), Sophie Goldrick (First mother), Claire Mitcher (Mrs Charlton), Benjamin Kempton (Teenage boy), Mercedes Prevatt (Teenage girl), Jamie Francis (Anthony De Rocher)
ENO Chorus, Matthew Quinn (chorus director), ENO Orchestra, Kerem Hasan (conductor)
Annilese Miskimmon (director), D. M. Wood (lighting designer), Alex Eales (set designer), Evie Gurney (costume designer), Imogen Knight (movement & intimacy director), Brad Wendes (fight director)
M. Mayes, C. Rice (© Manuel Harlan)
Dead Man Walking receives a full London production quite late in the day: premiered in 2000, the opera has had numerous outings worldwide and, unusually for a contemporary work, seems to be lasting the course. Much press surrounded the London performances, promising a galvanising emotional experience and the presentation of a set of moral dilemmas, literally about life and death, for us to chew over.
Seeing the opera for the first time, I have to admit that in both areas I was slightly underwhelmed. Jake Heggie’s music is skilled, well‑orchestrated, tonal and, dare I say it, cinematically bland. It took a while before I discerned different palettes and textures for varying characters and generally I heard a wall of sound: repeated listening would bring increased familiarity but not much lingers in the memory. Kerem Hasan conducted with sensitivity and obviously aimed to enable his cast to be heard over the orchestral wash, which is at times dense. The scale of the performance fitted the house well, at times rich but never overwhelming or descending into an aural blur.
The opera concerns a man on death row, Joseph De Rocher, and a nun, Sister Helen Prejean, who becomes his spiritual advisor, and is based on the latter’s book. Heggie and his skilled librettist, Terrence McNally, open the story with the murder of two teenagers, seen making out and unaware of impending threat from two rednecks – the boy is shot, the girl raped then stabbed to stop her screams. A hideous moment and one I didn’t feel that we needed to witness: firstly, it removes any following ambiguity as to whether De Rocher is guilty, we know he is from the start. And the background music to the murders is provided by the car radio – but surely the composer should be able to conjure something appropriate. (An alternative point of view from others is that the radio sets the Americana background before lurching into the plot: I would suggest that the composer should set the scene – for example, Puccini uses the shepherd boy and church bells in Act III of Tosca but makes them integral to his own sonic world.) Likewise, when we eventually see De Rocher and Sister Helen emotionally connect in Act II, it is through a shared love of Elvis, a charming moment of light relief. But Heggie just quotes some Elvis songs and gets a laugh, which seems slightly crass – he later weaves Elvis into the score in a far more sophisticated way. There are some more interesting scenes. De Rocher’s mother has her own moment of tender memory which is more subtle and finely drawn, and the four parents of the dead youngsters have a fine ensemble which uses its full operatic potential.
Heggie and McNally were at pains not to force a point of view upon the audience. In one way I appreciate that – nobody likes being preached to – and naturally the audience will have a welter of views on the subject of taking someone’s life. But eventually the lack of focus is wearing. I didn’t feel I was being given an option, just that there was no point of view and consequently, odd though it sounds, I started to care less as the opera progressed. Witnessing someone being executed, the opera’s conclusion, is beyond hideous but by that point I was watching a performance, not battling with emotions or moral dilemmas. I arrived with an open mind on the subject and I left in the same state – I had nothing to agree or disagree with. Perhaps an opera that was less deliberately unresolved and that tried to push us in one direction would have more dramatic tension? As the opera progressed I began to become uncomfortable with Sister Helen’s incessant urging De Rocher to confess and provide closure for the parents. It began to seem more her own emotional blockage and obsession and the opera didn’t explore that as fully as it might.
Annilese Miskimmon’s direction was clear and straightforward and not overly interesting. It did what it said on the tin, no more, no less. In her programme introduction she refers to ENO’s recent Carmen as a ‘classic’ but adds that ‘we also want to shine a light on modern operatic narratives and issues’. But Carmen is stabbed to death by her ex‑partner and during the run of Dead Man Walking three women in the UK will have suffered the same fate. That seems pretty relevant to me. Counselling is being offered to the Dead Man cast, which is admirable, but Carmen presumably had to go home to a cup of tea and a biscuit. Are older operas less significant than something new and currently fashionable?
Michael Mayes proved a stunning Joseph De Rocher, a role he’s performed in several productions and he really did galvanise the audience. An intense physical persona, completely open emotionally, his voice ranging from tenderness to a shout, he was remarkable. Christine Rice as Sister Helen also nailed the physicality of the woman and her complexities and her voice lasted the course of an exhausting role – but her diction was poor and I resorted to the surtitles much of the time. Of the smaller roles, Gweneth Ann Rand and Jacques Imbrailo made much of Mr and Mrs Hart, the teenage girl’s parents – Rand’s soprano is a thing of power. Madeline Boreham was a clarion Sister Rose and I could understand her every word, and I relished Zwakele Tshabalala’s Motorcycle cop – a great cameo – and Ronald Samm’s less likeable Father Grenville. A hideously bewigged Sarah Connolly was perhaps vocally miscast as Mrs De Rocher, Joe’s mother, though her acting was perfect. But the cast was generally strong, with a final shout going to Ryan McLean, who signed the performance from a box with vigour and clarity – the woman sitting in front of me obviously relied greatly on his skills. But as an audience are we there to applaud the concept of the opera, the actual piece itself, or the specific performance?
Francis Muzzu
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