The Welsh National Opera revival of Richard Jones's Wozzeck has retained its brilliant edge, sharp as the can-lid with which Wozzeck cuts his partner Marie's throat, and then his own wrists.
The bald, blunt scenes of Georg Büchner’s unfinished play are disturbing enough, but when Paul Steinberg’s designs exchange a 19th-century army town for the sterile glare of a baked bean factory in some remnant of communist Europe, every emotion, every character, starts to screech.
I haven't the space to do justice to Welsh National Opera's revival of Richard Jones' production of Berg's Wozzeck, but it's stunningly good, and I do urge anyone with a serious interest in opera not to miss it.