Philip Glass’s new opera, The Perfect American, based on a novel by Peter Stephan Jungk, presents the memories of Walt Disney as he lies dying in 1966.
He recalls his apple-pie childhood in Marceline, Missouri; he calls to mind a disgruntled employee (Donald Kaasch) whom he once fired; he remembers an owl he killed as a boy.
Rudy Wurlitzer’s bitty and dramatically inert libretto generates zero conflict and reduces all other characters to cyphers. It throws in some sledgehammer politics for good measure. Ooh, Disney didn’t like black emancipation! Heavens, he was quite right-wing! Gasp, he was against unionisation! Issues are reduced to shibboleths, and the satire feels as sharp as a popped balloon. The autopilot music plods along using the familiar Glassian harmonies, and any opportunities for emotional peaks and troughs are ignored or thrown away.
Phelim McDermott’s production (created with Improbable theatre company) centres the action around Disney’s hospital bed.
A troupe of physical-theatre actors performs choreographed ensemble sequences, of which some work better than others. Baritone Christopher Purves is impressive as Disney, and he holds the stage with charisma even when his voice tires. The other characters have so little to do, it hardly seems right to mention them. A far from perfect opera.
In rep until Jun 28 (next perf Thu), Coliseum. http://www.eno.org.uk
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