Ivo van Hove is a director who gives his audiences the illusion of privileged access – the thrilling sense that he is showing his workings; that even behind-the-scenes actions are sometimes shared. This reaches its climax in Opening Night, based on John Cassavetes’s spellbinder of a film (1977), which Van Hove first adapted for the stage in 2006 and is now revisiting in a new musical version by the American-Canadian singer-songwriter and composer Rufus Wainwright. On the face of it, this is a perfect vehicle for the Belgian director (who is also responsible for the book), and for his gifted designer, Jan Versweyveld, because it is a narrative in which rehearsals dominate.
Moments before the show gets going, you see through scarlet gauze – a non-safety curtain – into the secret life of theatre: dressing room mirrors framed in lights, a bouquet of wine-dark roses, long tables at which the company sits. And seeing through becomes the name of the game. Opening Night is about seeing through to the reality behind a play, witnessing rehearsals, understanding the protesting actor at the heart of the drama. It could be seen as a chaotic, feminine companion piece to Sam Mendes’s brilliant and decorous exploration of the subject in last year’s The Motive and the Cue.
