Tchaikovsky: Child of Glass at Opera Holland Park 13 - 15 August 2026

“The harmony of direction and movement is excellent” ★★★

Like Tchaikovsky himself, Child of Glass has an identity crisis – otherwise known as ‘a theatrical fusion of music, ballet and drama’. This near two-hour concert-cum-play-cum-monologue-cum-dance tells us the story of Pyotr Tchaikovsky from childhood to untimely death. It does this using a programme of his best pieces, a small cast of four, and a pianist.

The premise is simple, but easy to disappoint. If nothing else, because that fusion means we don’t know what we’re seeing. More than one audience member clearly expected an opera, but got more of a biographical play, not particularly helped by the misnomer in this case of the venue, Opera Holland Park. And again, stunning though the venue is, the overriding feeling you get in the first few minutes is that this stage overwhelms the small, albeit ambitious, production.

And as vibrant as Tchaikovsky’s music is, not even that can fill the cavernous space when played only on a shining grand piano, chiefly because it’s crying out for a string quartet accompaniment. Indeed, the orchestra pit sits tauntingly, smirkingly, empty throughout, full of thick electric snakes, those behind-the-scenes wires.

The pianist, Jayson Gillham (also musical director), is of course incredible, and his subtle inclusion in the action (drinking when Pyotr drinks, coughing when he coughs) is a nice touch. He, along with our ballet soloist Teo Debreuil, is the real star of the show. But again – was I expecting this? No. It’s not billed as a piano recital – in fact the marketing material shows violinists in the background. It’s not exactly a dance either, though this is where it is strongest; and then the programme describes it as a play, but I’m not sure that works either.

The harmony of direction and movement is excellent though: Tchaikovsky’s internal struggles with his sexuality soulfully play out in liquid limbs and lunges, scaling the full tonal spectrum. The man himself appears in the opening, dressed comically as the Grand Dame of the dance and progresses through rigidity to sensuality, while ballet soloist Teo Debreuil, plays his innermost desires embodied, slinks around him, pushing and pulling and tempting, becoming all the loves of his life. Matheson, as Tchaikovsky, is no dancer though; and while admittedly, neither was the real man, this for me ruins the illusion. No one can match Debreuil, but yet dance plays an important part. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing, but it can’t be half and half of each.

These dance sequences, by choreographer Stephen Wicks (who makes an amusing but underappreciated cameo towards the end of the production), are where the show most comes alive. A beautiful solo from Debreuil in the second act easily steals the show with its eye-catching shower of roses and infinitely elegant poses. It’s befitting of the huge stage and proves that the small size of the cast isn’t why Child of Glass doesn’t fill the space. It’s because it is spreading itself too thin.

Same again for the other stand-out moment, a satisfyingly dramatic denouement of raging petals and tossed papers as Debreuil throws himself around the grand stage. But there aren’t any of these moments in Act One and far too few in Act Two. And here, like Pyotr’s lost loves, is its major missed opportunity. Perhaps instead of a fusion, we could have had a ballet, and then this might really have been something.

Margaret Steinbach’s lighting though is also befitting of the stage: rich and lush and reminiscent of dreamy Mediterranean opera houses. And Agnes Sharp’s luxurious set and costumes also do the trick. Don’t get me wrong, it all looks the part. It doesn’t LOOK small, it FEELS small.

Nonetheless, it still doesn’t know what it is by the end. One of the biggest flaws in my view could be alleviated by the simplest of rewording. ‘Child of Glass: The Life of Tchaikovsky’ makes more sense. Because that’s what it is. It’s a tiny but significant change. For the layman – and this is a perfectly accessible show that everyone can enjoy, so that shouldn’t hold it back – what are you booking when you’re booking ‘Tchaikovsky: Child of Glass’? Is it an original opera? Is it a dance? Is an opera written by Tchaikovsky? Is a concert? And I hazard a guess that the very last of these questions, if it occurs at all, would be ‘is it a play’? And the answer to all of them is kind of no. But that can be its strength if an audience expects it. As it is, I don’t think they did: one or two were even falling asleep… And you’re sort of left wondering when it’s going to start right up until the moment it ends. Now and then it makes sense – a dramatic monologue from Pyotr followed by a virtuoso performance from Gillham. But it doesn’t stick to this format. It becomes a dance. Then a drama. Now neither.

The thing is, you can’t argue with Tchaikovsky. He’s a crowd pleaser and I could listen to him all day. But in Child of Glass, I ended up longing for the final note.

Tchaikovsky Child of Glass

13-15 August 2026, 7:30pm

Opera Holland Park (Ilchester Place, London W8 6LU)

Tickets from £35: https://operahollandpark.com/productions/tchaikovsky-child-of-glass/

Creatives

Writer/Director - Tama Matheson

Music Director/Piano - Jayson Gillham

Choreographer - Stephen Wicks

Cast

Tama Matheson

Suzy Kohane

Oliver Holland

Téo Debreuil

Reviewed by Alix Owen