Theatrical Oddities and Musical Controversies: A Dive into England's Eccentric Arts Scene
By Norman Lebrecht, December 5, 2025
Ever wondered how a beloved children’s character, a terminal illness, and a dash of Gilbert and Sullivan could collide in one cultural critique? Welcome to the wild world of English theater and music, where the lines between brilliance and bewilderment blur.
I. When Love and Mortality Collide: End at the National
David Eldridge’s End, now playing at the National’s Dorfman Theatre, is a bold experiment in minimalism: a single, uninterrupted 95-minute scene between two Londoners, Alfie (Clive Owen) and Julie (Saskia Reeves). These North London natives have spent over three decades together, unmarried but deeply intertwined, raising a child who’s now an adult. Their conversation, laced with humor and heartbreak, revisits Alfie’s past infidelity and his current battle with terminal cancer. Alfie’s refusal of further treatment gives the play its title, but the dialogue leaves his decision hauntingly ambiguous. Eldridge’s End stands as a powerful standalone piece, though it completes a trilogy with Beginning (2017) and Middle (2022), all commissioned by Rufus Norris. Reeves and Owen deliver performances so natural and raw that they feel less like acting and more like eavesdropping on real lives. But here’s where it gets controversial: Is End a celebration of love’s resilience, or a grim reminder of life’s fragility? What would you do if faced with Alfie’s choice?
II. Paddington Goes Musical: Charming or Cringe?
Paddington, the musical, now at the Savoy Theatre, has divided audiences. Directed by Luke Sheppard with music by Tom Fletcher and a book by Olivier Award-winner Jessica Swale, it’s a love letter to London and its iconic bear. The spoken passages and scenic sequences are undeniably charming, but the musical numbers feel oddly generic—like an AI-generated homage to West End clichés. The standout (or lowlight, depending on your taste) is a catchy oompah waltz celebrating “marmalade,” which will either delight or drive you mad. Is this a fresh take on a beloved character, or a tourist trap in musical form? You decide.
III. Gilbert and Sullivan: Laughing with or at the English?
English National Opera’s revival of HMS Pinafore at the London Coliseum raises a prickly question: How seriously should we take Gilbert and Sullivan’s patriotism? The opera’s finale proudly declares, “He remains an Englishman!”—but in today’s globalized world, is this a relic of quaint nostalgia or a problematic celebration of nationalism? Cal McCrystal’s 2019 production leans into the absurdity, bordering on Carry On-style vulgarity. While some revel in its surrealism, others find it crass. Is this the right way to honor G&S, or does it cheapen their legacy? Let’s debate.
IV. Fazil Say’s Mother Earth: Genius or Gimmick?
Turkish composer Fazil Say’s piano concerto Mother Earth premiered at the Royal Festival Hall to mixed reactions. The piece is a whirlwind of energy, with innovative percussion effects and a seven-part structure inspired by climate change. Yet, despite its ambitious title, the music feels more focused on flashy effects than emotional depth. Conductor Santtu-Mathias Rouvali’s program, which also included Sibelius’s En Saga and Dvořák’s eighth symphony, showcased his mastery of atmosphere and immediacy. But Mother Earth left many wondering: Can a piece about such a profound topic feel so superficial? Is Say a visionary or a showman? Share your thoughts.
V. The Royal Ballet’s Triple Bill: Hits and Misses
Covent Garden’s November lineup featured three pure-dance works: Balanchine’s Serenade, Cathy Marston’s Against the Tide, and Justin Peck’s Everywhere We Go. While Serenade remains a timeless masterpiece, its depth was somewhat lost in the Royal Ballet’s staging, which prioritized facial expressions over Balanchine’s signature simplicity. Everywhere We Go dazzles with Peck’s choreographic brilliance, but Sufjan Stevens’ score grows grating on repeat listens. Marston’s Against the Tide, however, feels undercooked—a vague response to Britten’s violin concerto. And this is the part most people miss: Is the Royal Ballet losing its touch with modern choreography, or are audiences expecting too much? What’s your take?
Final Thoughts
From terminal illness to talking bears, England’s arts scene never fails to provoke. Whether you’re applauding or arguing, one thing’s clear: these works demand discussion. What’s your most controversial arts opinion? Drop it in the comments—let’s spark a debate!
