Review: La Bohème at Leeds Grand Theatre

“…Opera North’s production is a reaffirmation of why we keep telling this story…”

La Boheme by Giacomo Puccini, Leeds Grand Theatre

By Sean Sable

From the first time I saw La Bohème on a school trip when I was fifteen, it has always captured my heart. One could even say it was the opera that ignited a lifelong passion. It was the first opera that made me cry and the first to make me realise that opera wasn’t just about spectacle—that opera can also be about human frailty. Over the years, I’ve seen it staged in various guises but never quite like this. Phyllida Lloyd’s 1950s-set production for Opera North (first premiered in 1993 and now revived once again) feels so immediate and alive that it’s hard to believe it entered the repertoire more than thirty years ago. It’s fresh, funny, achingly beautiful and, for me, reminded me why Puccini remains the great poet of ordinary people.

From the moment the curtain rose on the draughty garret, I was transported to the bitter cold of a Paris winter in the late 1950s. The set, framed like a piece of art, was the perfect image of the kind of creative chaos that I imagine young mid-century artists inhabited. From the paint-splattered walls and the wood-burning stove to the motorbike in the kitchen—it had all the roughness and romance that I expect to find in bohemian life. The use of a rotating promenade-like structure to reveal the Café Momus was ingenious. A city thoroughfare on one side and a diner-style café on the other, the piece occasionally rotated, giving the illusion of a living city, moving and flowing in a never-ending current of people and activity. I loved the way Anthony Ward’s design made use of screens to extend the space into layers, allowing a kind of convertible depth to the stage that made the world feel multifaceted.

Rick Fisher’s lighting design deserves special praise. His work didn’t just illuminate the stage; like the artists in the story, he moulded the space. There was a moment outside the café in Act III when Musetta, exhausted from another argument with Marcello, stands half in deep shadow, half carved by cold streetlight, watching the love of Mimì and Rodolfo through the window. It’s the kind of love she can’t reach with the fiery Marcello. The light caught her in fractured silver and red, and it absolutely pummelled my heart. One of the most exquisite moments of the evening happened during the lover’s duet beneath a glowing full moon as two spots came together as one. Le sigh … does love get better than this?

Few things compare to hearing Puccini’s score in full orchestral force and, under Garry Walker’s baton, the Orchestra of Opera North filled the theatre with colour and warmth. Every little tremor of flute, every grand sweep of strings felt buoyant, as if we were flowing in a current of sound. A perfect musical score has the rare and magical ability to evoke emotions with a near-elemental purity and in the final act, when the brass came crashing down as Rodolfo erupted in grief, I just fell to pieces.

The cast were uniformly excellent and I was struck by how much this production leans into its characters’ humanity. Anthony Ciaramitaro’s Rodolfo is passionate and impulsive; his voice, rich with warmth and clarity, soars easily through the garret and breaks my heart in the process. His duet with Olivia Boen’s Mimì was tender to the point of intimacy. It was so personal at times it felt almost intrusive to watch. Yuriy Yurchuk’s Marcello, though, might have stolen my heart entirely. I’ve always had a soft spot for baritones and his voice had that burnished quality that lives somewhere between silk and smoke.

Of course I can’t forget Elin Pritchard’s Musetta and the effervescent, unapologetic way she strode through the café in that leopard-print coat like a flame racing along a fuse. Her explosive confidence had all the vixen energy that I’ve always loved about Musetta. At the same time, when she quarrelled with Marcello, she was so excruciatingly human. Her voice, so full of sparkle and bite, turned “Quando me’n vo” into a declaration of independence rather than vanity.

Anthony Ward’s costume design was another triumph. It was subtle where it needed to be and gloriously sassy when the story demanded it. The chorus, dressed in chic geometric continental silhouettes, brought life to the bustling Parisian scenes. In the larger choral pieces, it felt as if each singer had been clipped from a fashion magazine and artfully placed like a flower in a bouquet. Musetta’s glamour, Rodolfo’s shabby charm and the men’s threadbare layers all spoke of class and aspiration.

As always with Opera North, the ensemble work was exceptional. The chorus, especially in the Café Momus scene, brought that wonderful mix of chaos and choreography that makes the world of the opera feel alive. There’s an energy in their movement that feels like the pulse of the city itself. I have to give a special nod to the bevy of child performers who stole every scene. They were whimsical and charming and brought a genuine Christmas energy to the scenes of Parisian life.

Watching La Bohème always leaves me with that strange fullness that only opera brings. It is like being shattered and remade in a single evening. And Opera North’s production isn’t just another revival; it’s a reaffirmation of why we keep telling this story. Puccini’s young lovers still freeze, still laugh, still dream… and still die – but their world never stops feeling like a reflection of our own. Many people push back at opera. They say it’s cold and distant. That it’s about big arias and grand gestures that have nothing to do with modern life. But those people have never seen La Bohème – an opera that is about smallness, beauty, and the terror of growing wise to the pain of the world.

If you think opera isn’t for you, this is the production to change your mind.

La Bohème plays at Leeds Grand Theatre until Saturday 01 November. Tickets are available here.

Sean Sable is a Yorkshire-based freelance writer and editor specialising in Young Adult and Horror fiction, frequently at the same time. When she isn’t buried under a pile of books and manuscripts, she is looking for her keys and having extensive one-sided conversations, in Swedish, with her deaf cat. You can find her online at: www.seansable.co.uk