Love Lessons (2018) - Katie Mitchell Film Review

Let’s get one thing straight right out of the gate: Love Lessons is not the breezy French seaside romance its title might suggest. This is an opera - a brooding, modern, and musically dense adaptation of the tragic story of Edward II and his infamous favorite, Piers Gaveston. The 2018 Royal Opera House premiere, now being broadcast with commentary and interviews, is a far cry from a sun-drenched fling on the Riviera. Instead, you get a 91-minute plunge into political intrigue, tortured devotion, and a hefty dose of baroque-style heartbreak, all conducted by the composer himself, George Benjamin.

So, if you clicked expecting a retired teacher dithering over dating options in some picturesque coastal town, you’re in the wrong theater. But if you’re ready for a visually striking, emotionally violent piece of modern opera, this performance has a lot to offer - provided you bring your patience and a working knowledge of 14th-century English court politics.

A Modern Take on a Medieval Mess

The story of Edward II is basically a medieval soap opera with higher stakes and worse hygiene. King Edward’s obsessive relationship with Gaveston infuriates his nobles, destabilizes his reign, and ultimately leads to both men’s brutal downfalls. It’s a tale heavy with themes of toxic love, political backlash, and the high cost of defying social norms. The libretto, penned by Martin Crimp, strips away the historical grandiosity and forces you to sit in the uncomfortable emotional mud with these people.

Director Katie Mitchell brings her signature theatrical rigor here. Don’t expect a literal medieval staging; this is a contemporary, almost clinical take that focuses on psychological rawness. The set design works in abstract terms - shifting light, shadow, and minimal props to create a sense of claustrophobic intimacy. It’s not about recreating a castle; it’s about capturing the feeling of being trapped inside a doomed relationship.

The Performances Are the Real Attraction

If you’re new to modern opera, the singing style can occasionally feel like a hurdle. There are moments of jagged, atonal dissonance that will make casual listeners squirm. But for those willing to lean in, the cast delivers a masterclass in vocal storytelling. Stéphane Degout anchors the piece as the conflicted King Edward, a man whose authority melts away whenever Gaveston is in the room. His voice swings from regal command to desperate, pleading fragility, often within the same scene. It’s a demanding role, and Degout handles the emotional whiplash with impressive control.

Barbara Hannigan, as Queen Isabel, is a force of nature. When you consider that she is both the female lead and one of the most technically demanding sopranos working today, her performance here feels almost ruthlessly precise. Her Isabel is not a passive victim; she’s a woman simmering with resentment and manipulation. Watching her navigate the political chessboard is just as compelling as listening to her conquer Benjamin’s tricky vocal lines.

Then there’s Gyula Orendt as Gaveston. He plays the role with a magnetic, almost dangerous allure. The chemistry between him and Degout is palpable, which is essential. If you don’t buy that these two are willing to burn their kingdom down for each other, the entire opera falls apart. Orendt delivers on that front. He’s brash, seductive, and ultimately tragic. Also worth a nod is Peter Hoare as Mortimer, the sneering antagonist who provides a cold counterbalance to all the raw passion on stage.

The Music Is the Star (But It’s a Demanding One)

George Benjamin’s score is lush and brutal in equal measure. It’s filled with shimmering orchestral textures that can suddenly explode into percussive violence. This isn’t a score you’ll hum on your way out of the theater. Instead, it’s a visceral experience that sticks to the inside of your skull. There are haunting woodwind solos that echo the characters’ inner loneliness, contrasted with harsh, metallic percussion during moments of emotional conflict. It’s sophisticated, intellectual stuff, perfectly matched to Crimp’s razor-sharp text.

One interesting quirk of this broadcast version is the inclusion of commentary and interviews before the main performance. While this adds context for newcomers, it also slightly distances you from the immersive experience. The actual running time of the opera is tight at 91 minutes, but the full broadcast package feels longer. For purists, the added talk might feel like over-explaining. For the uninitiated, however, it might just be the lifeline needed to understand what you’re about to witness.

Who Should Watch This?

Love Lessons is a bit of a misnomer in every conceivable way. There are no lessons here - only consequences. It’s grim, intense, and unapologetically highbrow. If your idea of a good movie night is a light romantic comedy, run far away. But if you’re an opera aficionado, or a curious viewer who appreciates challenging art that demands your full attention, this is a solid, well-executed production.

Just don’t go expecting to relax. This opera will grip you, shake you, and leave you a little exhausted by the time the credits roll. That’s not a bad thing. It’s just not fluff. In fact, it’s about as far from the French seaside as you can possibly get. For this level of musical and dramatic intensity, you don’t need a vacation - you need a recovery period.

Source: The Hollywood Reporter