YORK HALL – UNTIL 23rd APRIL 2026
REVIEWED BY JACKIE THORNTON
3***
Salome, Strauss’s most dangerous opera and one of his bloodiest, finds its origins in the Biblical tale which sees the head of John the Baptist served on a platter. The supposed prophet John the Baptist becomes Jochanaan in Strauss’s telling as we hone in on Princess Salome’s mental and emotional state, spiralling from intense passion into obsession as she demands to have Jochanaan as hers.
It’s not an opera for the faint-hearted as the princess, played zealously by Kirsty Taylor-Stokes with a touch of Hannibal Lecter, remains focused on her prize. Her full-bodied voice is enchanting and terrifying. Mark Ravenhill’s witty direction finds necessary humour both in Salome’s failed attempts to woo Freddie Tong’s defiant Jochanaan and in a cheeky dance routine for creepy stepfather Herod, played by tenor Robin Whitehouse.
However, this staging also intends to make a chilling point about the contemporary “emergence of new forms of misogyny, victim blaming and attempts to control women’s agency and sexuality” by gruesomely laying bare a deranged young woman with nowhere to channel her anger and desire.
Choreography from Aletta Collins shifts between provocative striptease and an awakening of personal lust leading to Salome writhing on the floor, watched lasciviously by the assembled men, and by us. It’s only her mother, Herodias, towering above us in scarlet, sparkling jewels and golden stilettos, who cannot look. Mae Heydorn’s elegant performance of Salome’s mother carries much insight into familial relationships.
Hannah Schmidt’s set and costume choices reflect a seedy, 1980s underground club picking up on York Hall’s fame as the home of British boxing. Though the innovative choice of venue did at times make it difficult to fully appreciate the power of the vocal performances and the nuances of the orchestra, it all felt highly accomplished and delivered by a slick company.
A provocative, charged and bloody spectacle.