Thursday, 28 May 2026

Dusapin - Antigone (Paris, 2025)


Pascal Dusapin - Antigone

Philharmonie de Paris, 2025

Klaus Mäkelä, Netia Jones, Christel Loetzsch, Anna Prohaska, Tómas Tómasson, Jarrett Ott, Thomas Atkins, Edwin Crossley-Mercer, Serge Kakudji, Natalia Cellier, Cosma Moïssakis

Philharmonie Live streaming - October 2025

The themes and presentation of ancient Greek dramas of Sophocles, Euripides and Aeschylus remain just as important a foundation for opera as it does for contemporary theatre. Even more so in opera which was originally conceived in the belief that Greek drama was sung. Medea, Orpheus, Elektra, and Oedipus have inspired some of the greatest works of opera from early baroque to modern times, which is not surprising, as the subjects and treatments are inherently dynamic and dramatic in their grappling with always relevant human and moral questions. Filled with death and destruction on a cataclysmic scale, the tragedies present dark tales about the price to be paid for contravention of moral laws and defiance of the gods, but there is more than one kind of god and the dramas still have something important and vital to tell us today about humanity and moral imperatives today. Especially today in our troubled times, when the rule of law is in danger of being disregarded, when what should be unthinkable atrocities are permitted.

It's in these febrile and dangerous times that Pascal Dusapin produces his latest work based on Sophocles' Antigone. Dealing with one woman's stand against injustice and belief in a higher law than that of corrupt or foolish rulers, it's a timely reflection on the horrors that we are seeing around us today and the potential consequences for us all if authoritarianism is not resisted - and even if it is. Created for the Philharmonie in Paris, Dusapin presents the work as an "opératorio", partly in concession to it being performed in the Grande salle Pierre Boulez concert hall rather than on an opera stage, but more to give it the concentrated force that the work merits.

Seen as a typically moral question of holding to individual beliefs, or divine order, above those of man-made laws of the state when they are wrongfully employed, the subject of Antigone however raises many complex questions and ambiguities when viewed in a modern light. This is another reason why Dusapin chooses to work with Friedrich Hölderlin's 1804 German translation of the work, a reduction to a concentrated form of text. As an 'Opératorio in Five Acts', reduced to an hour and a half performance, the composer uses his always powerful musical expression to provide weight and subtext to explore the ambiguity within that version, and Dusapin's score for his Antigone indeed imbues the work with all the force and meaning that its subject merits.

The essence of the drama is retained and remains simple enough in outline, where as a background to what unfolds in Antigone, Eteocles and Polynices, the sons of Oedipus and brothers to Antigone and Ismene, have both been killed in a dispute over the rule of the city of Thebes. As a punishment for having gathered an army to march against Thebes, Creon, their uncle and now ruler (and uncle of Antigone) refuses a burial for Polynices, denying even any funeral rites to be said over his body. Antigone is horrified by the order, as much from human decency as for the fact that Polynices was her brother and, against the advice of her sister Ismene, defies Creon's proclamation and performs a burial rite, throwing soil and praying for her fallen brother where he lays.

The drama of Antigone is certainly is adaptable to the times and political events. I recall the segment 'The Postponed Antigone' by Volker Schlöndorff from a script by Heinrich Böll in the 1978 film Deutschland im Herbst, where the public TV executives pull a filmed theatre performance of Antigone from the schedules at a time of high tensions in Germany around the activities of the RAF/Baader-Meinhof terrorist group. That is an indication of the potential of the original work to inspire activism, while at the same time showing how the authorities can control and prevent such controversial views or being aired - but Dusapin's choice of Hölderlin's translation and his own efforts to take a neutral position calculatedly avoid any political interpretation of the work.

In terms of what is the just and moral action to take, the message of Antigone's defiance and her stance in standing up for what she believes is right may seem fairly self-evidently and difficult to challenge, but - as is often the case in Greek drama, all actions - even doing what seems to be the right and just thing in the circumstances - can have unintended consequences that reverberate down the line. You could even see the fate of the children of the incestuous marriage of Oedipus and Jocasta as being cursed by the time of Seven against Thebes and Antigone. In Antigone itself, Antigone's actions have immediate consequences for her when she is condemned to death, takes her own life and a series of other deaths follow in her wake.

So there is a lot to take in and consider in Antigone, and you have to say, based on the premiere performances of the work in October 2025 at the Philharmonie de Paris, Dusapin handles the subject impressively, finding the opposing contrasting forces within the drama and letting them assert their own power without imposing any heavy-handed contemporary reading on the work. More than Antigone, who is single minded and certain of her position - and who inevitably cuts an impressive figure as performed here by mezzo-soprano Christel Loetzsch - Creon has perhaps the more decisive and conflicted role. He knows a ruler cannot appear weak, that Antigone represents a challenge to his authority, but even knowing what will follow when the soothsayer Tiresias makes an appearance, he is unable to do anything to prevent the tragedy that is unfolding.

Dusapin obviously depicts this clash between Antigone and Creon in all its intensity, but despite the concentrated focus of this version, the other conflicts and views are all similarly well expressed and have a vital role to play in the overall balance of the drama, as well as introducing other perspectives that the individual viewer can relate to without being swayed to take one side or another. Ismene's advice to her sister to keep a lower profile and know their place as women, while Antigone wants to shout 'injustice!' from the rooftops introduces the inequality of women's views; Creon's son Haemon brings love into the equation, for Antigone, as well as between father and son. Fraternal love is there too of course in Antigone's conducting an unauthorised dignified burial of sorts for Polynices. Moral questions are agonised over, there are questions of self-sacrifice, honour and respect, both sides believing they have authority, creating a conflict the wisdom of age and holding to old ways over youthful impetuousness and new beliefs.

The dominant tone of the work however is one of unfolding tragedy and that is reflected in the orchestration of low dark sustained notes and lines on strings and brass. At times - as I've noted before in his more recent operas Macbeth Underworld (2019) and Penthesilea (2015) - there are occasional Reimann-like blasts from a large orchestra here, although without quite the same sustained battery of seismic eruptions. The anger of Creon at pronouncement of the fate of Polynices however who challenged the gods/ruler of his homeland is accompanied by a fusillade of rattling violent percussion crashes followed by ominous, rumbling mournful music. It's a musical language more in the line of Richard Strauss' Salome by way of Wagner, and under the direction of conductor Klaus Mäkelä it's every bit as expressive, operatic and dramatic visceral and impactful as that implies. Harp, bells and flute can stir up just as much menace and even while Creon brays out his threats, the music can hint at his words being empty; of compassion, of authority perhaps, moral and regal.

Directed by Netia Jones, who sees it as a kind of performance-installation for the concert hall of the Grande salle Pierre Boulez at the Philharmonie in Paris. the Antigone opératorio is nonetheless also fully operatic in performance. Jones can be maximalist in her productions, but here settles for a monochrome minimalist set design which lets the singers take centre stage - figuratively speaking. The majority of the stage is taken up by tall imposing grey-white freestanding monolithic pillars (can it be a monolith if there is more than one?) which are reactive to lighting and effects created by Lightmap, projecting shadows, abstract markings, lines, swirling mists, clouds and gathering darkness. leaving only a corner for an array of microphone stands which are not used for oratorio purposes, but pleas and proclamations. Two video screens occasionally show time-delayed overlaid distorted images of the singers adding to the mood of a distorted reality, while the appearance of Tiresias seeing an enhanced reality wearing a VR-type headset is a good touch. The direction of the video recording of the performance by the Philharmonie de Paris is also exceptional.

The singing performances are exceptional, and a fully rounded range of voice types just add to the characterisation and the feel of this being fully operative. It's certainly more declamatory by its very nature, less action, but deeply operatic in the presentation of the themes and the range of expression in the music and singing. Mezzo-soprano Christel Loetzsch sings Antigone with all the sense of a 'true believer' (whether of the will of Gods or of her own sense of moral certainty), but you can feel the deep emotional sense of loss at the tragedy of her brother's/brothers' fate. Soprano Anna Prohaska's timidity as Ismene can also be seen suggesting a more cautious response, a wiser one even. Creon is of course, a bass, and Tómas Tómasson's performance makes you feel deeply involved in his predicament, as one bad decision sets of a chain of horrific events. There are solid performances here to from baritone, Jarrett Ott (a Messenger), tenor Thomas Atkins (Haemon), bass Edwin Crossley-Mercer (Tiresias) and even an unearthly counter-tenor Serge Kakudji as the Greek Chorus.


External links: Philharmonie de Paris, ARTE Concert

Rossini - Armida (Ghent, 2015)

Giaochino Rossini - Armida

Opera Vlaanderen, Ghent 2015

Alberto Zedda, Mariame Clément, Carmen Romeu, Enea Scala, Robert McPherson, Dario Schmunck, Leonard Bernard, Adam Smith

Dynamic DVD

Operas set around the Crusades were popular in the 18th and 19th century and, often drawing inspiration from Ariosto's Orlando Furioso and Torquato Tasso's La Gerusalemme liberata featuring the mythical figures of Orlando/Rinaldo and the sorceress Armida, you can see the opportunities for heroism and enchantment. Composed in 1817 for the reopening of the Teatro San Carlo in Naples which had been burnt down, Rossini's Armida however, while it certainly draws on these elements for some fine musical writing and has its share of heroism and enchantment, appears to be more geared towards presenting a showcase for its leading singers than in delivering any meaningful narrative purpose or emotional truth.

That however doesn't prevent Mariame Clément from trying to impose some kind of half-baked 'concept' onto the 2015 Opera Vlaanderen production. I can understand that playing it straight with Armida is just as likely to not be very successful, but Clément's half-way house approach, aligning the idea of heroism with sporting achievement and throwing in some random elements doesn't really achieve anything. At the start of Act I, we see the celebrating Frankish soldiers in robes and chainmail, covered in the blood from their latest battle, fooling around with a blow-up doll in what looks like a sports stadium. Goffredo, on the other hand dressed in a modern suit, orders them to respect the honour of their dead commander Dudone.

In the midst of the celebration, Armida the sorceress arrives, full of Eastern mysticism, asking for help to claim the throne that has been stolen by Idraote. It's a scheme of course, but she was perhaps not counting on Rinaldo being chosen to lead a group of warriors that will be sent to help her. She and Rinaldo have history, but Armida's ability to use her magic for enchantment allows her to bind and blind Rinaldo and the other men to her wiles. What she wasn't counting on was her love for Rinaldo resurfacing or the devastation it would cause when his men help the similarly lovestruck Rinaldo escape from her clutches and return to his heroic mission.

It's not the most thrilling or dramatic of situations. Schemes are weaved, declarations are made that aren't particularly noteworthy, but they often lead up to dramatic finales with rousing choruses, huge crescendos and show stopping numbers at the end of Act I and Act III. Act II however feels rather more like a time filler and the director is unable to find any way of enlivening it. As with Act I the production doesn't resemble any visual descriptions in the libretto or synopsis. The Prince of Hell, Astarotte’s demons are the former Crusaders, still drenched in blood but now wearing black football shirts. Armida and Rinaldo wake up not in a forest on the pleasure island of Fortune but on a couch, and since Armida is a sorceress there's no reason I suppose she shouldn't make their repose a little more comfortable than on a forest floor. There's not much else in the way of enchantment spectacle, the couch merely floating up for a group of nymphs to make their entrance.

Act III doesn't get a great deal more exciting dramatically, but the interesting resonances that Armida has with operas past and to come is more evident here. On the one hand you can clearly hear Rossini's debt to Mozart's Die Zauberflöte in the enchanted forest with the return of the nymphs and there are echoes of Così fan tutte's 'Soave sia il vento' in the duet between Armida and Rinaldo. Wagner comes to mind more than once in terms of mythology and heroism, not so much musical, in the attempted seduction of knights by the Parsifal-like flower maiden nymphs and there are parallels with Tannhäuser's leaving of Venus in Rinaldo's escape from the enchantment of Armida for a more noble enterprise. Originally written to showcase the range of Isabella Colbran, it's Armida however who gets the last word here.

If Mariame Clément's direction doesn't really bring any more depth to the work, the fault is probably more with the opera than the production. The narrative might be slim and the characterisation paper thin, so the most you can hope for is that the production at least remains close enough to give you a sense of where the real qualities of the work are, which is in the music and the singing. The sporting rivalry, chainmail and football outfits don't really work, but at the same time there is no reason to take this opera seria too seriously. The rivalry of the jealous Gernando plays well with some comic elements in Act I, but Act II is rather inert and not much to look at, failing to make anything of the nymph seduction pantomime. Rossini’s 'danza' music however is wonderful. There are no new ideas floated in Act III, with simple backdrops and more imagery of the 'soul' of Rinaldo (or something) as a footballer. It definitely looks like there is a shortage of ideas with what to do with the opera, but maybe it's not the most inspiring work by Rossini. Or maybe the budget isn't there.

Rossini's Armida may not be the most exciting or magical episode in the story of Orlando/Rinaldo and Armida, but as an opera seria it certainly presents opportunities for strong heroic roles and sparkling singing performances and the chance for singers to show their range. Carmen Romeu sings Armida well, but it's clear that it is an enormously challenging role and the direction never quite manages to give her much character to explore. Armida's final number 'Se al mio crudel tormento' is delivered well, but in the context of the work/production feels like it is lacking any real purpose. The other roles, the opera having no less than four tenor roles, are well taken with an impressive Enea Scala as Rinaldo contrasting well with Robert McPherson in the high tenor range as Gernando and Dario Schmunck as Goffredo. Musically, there is much to enjoy in Rossini's score and the Vlaanderen orchestra is well-conducted with delicacy and a lightness of touch by Alberto Zedda.

The quality of the Dynamic DVD release of Armida - reviewed here from a 14 DVD box set Rossini Serio (e Semiserio) - is not great when viewed on a High Definition display. Some DVD players may be able to handle the conversion better, but to me there was too much discolouration and blocky compression artefacts. The opera is spread across two DVDs, Act 1 & 2 on disc 1, Act 3 on disc 2. The uncompressed LPCM 2.0 and the Dolby Digital 5.1 audio tracks are excellent with detail and good separation in the mixing of the orchestra. Curiously two male dancers wearing very little take a curtain call who I have no recollection of appearing anywhere in the production. Perhaps my attention is lacking (it's not the most thrilling of operas) as I can't imagine that this scene was cut from the DVD release.


External links: Opera Ballet Vlaanderen