EIF Review: Orpheus and Eurydice

Gluck’s Orpheus and Eurydice gets a fresh, high-wire makeover in this production from Opera Queensland and Circa, landing at the Edinburgh Playhouse as part of the International Festival. Directed by Yaron Lifschitz, it’s a bold mash-up of 18th-century opera with contemporary acrobatics, where countertenor Iestyn Davies steps into Orpheus’s sandals and soprano Samantha Clarke pulls double duty as Eurydice and Amor.

The Scottish Chamber Orchestra, under Laurence Cummings, handles the score with the Scottish Opera Chorus in tow, delivering Gluck’s Vienna version – that stripped-back, reformist take on the myth where love defies death, only to face the ultimate test of trust.

Another reading is, of course, that Orpheus is an annoying man with familiar flaws: capable of grand gestures, but woeful when it comes to the trickier aspects of love. Equally awful, he believes his love is so exceptional that he can whine his way tunefully into the afterlife to get what’s rightfully his.

You Decide.

Either way, the production’s setup keeps things simple yet undeniably striking: Orpheus descends into the underworld to snatch back his beloved, but with a catch – he can’t look her way or explain what’s happening on the way out. Lifschitz amps this up by weaving in Circa’s acrobats, who twist and tumble across the stage like living embodiments of the story’s turmoil. Human pyramids rise and fall, bodies dangle from ropes in heart-stopping loops, and there’s a staircase built from limbs that feels like a literal climb from hell.

It’s visually electric, especially in the Furies’ scene where the aerial-strap aided frenzy matches the music’s pulse, or the Elysian Fields, where a serene round dance softens the edges.

Clarke has multiple acrobatic doubles, all of them distinct in sultry red dresses amongst a sea of black and white. Their choreographies prove some of the most successful in the show, allowing her to be larger than (a single) life.

Alex Berlage’s lighting bathes it all in vivid reds and blues, while Boris Bagattini’s projections and Libby McDonnell’s pared-down costumes keep things abstract and modern, nodding to Gluck’s push for dramatic purity over flashy excess.

Musically, it’s on solid ground. Davies brings a tireless warmth to Orpheus, his countertenor gliding through the arias with lyrical grace and those high notes landing as light as a feather. He even joins in the physical bits, adding a layer of commitment that grounds the myth in something real. Clarke’s soprano shifts gears effortlessly – bright and playful as Amor, then lush and heartbroken as Eurydice – giving the emotional swings real bite.

Cummings coaxes a bracing, finely tuned performance from the orchestra, with the chorus punching through with power and precision. Moments like the famous “Che puro ciel” aria feel elevated, the music’s simplicity shining through despite the chaos around it.

“Directed by Yaron Lifschitz, it’s a bold mash-up of 18th-century opera with contemporary acrobatics, where countertenor Iestyn Davies steps into Orpheus’s sandals and soprano Samantha Clarke pulls double duty as Eurydice and Amor.“

But here’s where it gets tricky: the acrobatics, for all their wow factor, don’t always mesh with the opera’s core. They’re impressive, no doubt – the kind of daring that has you holding your breath as bodies stack and sway – but they can pull focus from the singing, turning key emotional beats into background noise. In quieter passages, the constant motion feels like overkill, clashing with Gluck’s ethos of restraint and letting the story breathe.

The last thing you need during yet another elegant explanation for why Orpheus deserves special treatment is the audience wondering whether they should clap or ‘Ooh!’

Some staging choices add further to the confusion: surtitles that warp and melt mid-line, or a greenhouse interlude that seems tacked on without a clear purpose. There’s a very clear death motif repeated throughout the staging, but that doesn’t explain why the chorus reappears in Beetlejuice-like garb in the final scenes.

Something about the venue’s acoustics don’t help either, sometimes making the large orchestra sound oddly distant, while repetitive acrobatic motifs start to wear thin by Act 3. If it’s by design, it would be easie to bring a smaller orchestra.

And then we have the framing of the show, and a big twist made during the final refrains. I saw it coming 10 minutes in and hoped I was wrong. Sadly, Lifschitz plays one of the worst tricks in fiction, and trying to hide it behind grand, grotesque styling doesn’t make it any less lazy.

Still, there’s no denying the ambition here. This isn’t your standard opera recital; it’s a hybrid beast that pushes boundaries, celebrating Gluck’s vision of truth-seeking drama through a lens of modern physicality. The countertenor spotlight on Davies feels fresh, and the ensemble’s risks pay off in gasp-worthy images that echo the myth’s themes of loss and longing. In a festival crammed with safe bets, this one’s a gamble that almost lands.

If spectacle is what you seek, then this is the epic stage adventure for you. The sum of this opera’s parts is unquestionably impressive. If a satisfying, coherent, and unfrustrating narrative journey is your thing, there are better ways to spend your money.