Mitchell - Riot Symphony (Belfast, 2024)

Conor Mitchell - Riot Symphony

Ulster Orchestra, 2004

Andrew Gourlay, Gavin Peden, Rebecca Murphy, Michael Bell

Ulster Hall - 10 May 2024

With his latest work Riot Symphony again blurring the lines between symphony, opera and punk rock, Conor Mitchell continues to prove to be one of the most vital and uncategorisable of contemporary composers in Northern Ireland. With his Belfast Ensemble he has produced works that incorporate a range of disciplines, from theatre, video multimedia pieces, musicals, operas and, previously with the Ulster Orchestra, even a mass. Although very much a contemporary classical composer with an orchestra his main instrument, there is anti-establishment attitude to his work, primarily because he finds inspiration in current political events, in societal issues and in current affairs. He can be at his most 'punk' in an opera like Abomination and the same attitude can be found in his most recent collaboration with dramatist and librettist, Mark Ravenhill, the opera triptych The Headless Soldier.

You might think that Mitchell would ease up on that outspoken spirit of confronting controversial and sometimes even taboo subjects when composing a new symphony for the current Ulster Orchestra season, but no, on the contrary, the 50 minute work may even be his most expansive and accomplished work to date. Fearlessly (and somewhat suitably) squeezing in between a John Williams Star Wars concert and Mahler's 2nd Symphony 'Resurrection' in the season programme, Mitchell produces a work that is as much popular spectacle as heartfelt exploration of personal concerns, incorporating video projection, operatic singing, a libretto based on the writings of Sophie Scholl and a punk anthem by Pussy Riot, with echoes of the Ukrainian national anthem and condemnation of Vladimir Putin. Throw in the Mulholland Grand Organ, installed in the Ulster Hall in 1861, and this is going to be a riot; a Riot Symphony.

In a pre-performance discussion with Ulster Orchestra artistic director Patrick McCarthy, the music writer Stuart Bailie and Alanah Smyth from the Belfast punk band Problem Patterns, there was an interesting discussion on the history of politically leaning folk and punk music and its importance for the province, but little recognition of classical music playing any significant role. Mitchell however made a good case for the fact that classical music continued to be performed at the Ulster Hall during the Troubles as a courageous act of defiance in itself. Music can also be a necessary haven from the world outside, the Ulster Orchestra keeping of the flame of art and culture alive through social and political unrest, bombings, shooting and riots on the nearby streets.

He made an even more compelling case for it in his Riot Symphony. It may have referenced Russia, Putin, the Ukraine and the protests against totalitarian rule by Pussy Riot in the video montage and in the music itself, but this was a universal hymn to the right to protest at a time when the UK Conservative government, with the approval and complicity of the Labour Party, are enacting laws to restrict the right to peaceful protest. Mitchell is lucky he wasn't arrested after the show at the Ulster Hall, as it could be seen as incitement to riot, or at the very least in some of those more dissonant passages of the symphony, as a disturbance of the peace.

In truth, the Riot Symphony is a dynamic and highly moving experience. The composer admittedly relies on a simple rhythmic pattern as the basis of the piece, but he makes every possible use of the orchestral resources of the Ulster Orchestra and the occasion to present this work to the regular Friday evening Ulster Hall audience, to extend those musical and thematic ideas as widely as possible. As the opening musical salvo started to settle after assaulting the eyes with demonic images of Putin, the anticipation generated of the soprano rising to challenge him using the words of Sophie Scholl's White Rose Movement pamphlets was tangible. It didn't disappoint or fail to do musical justice and bring deep emotional and humanistic force to the words, stunningly delivered by Rebecca Murphy. The manifesto is taken up by her "brother", also executed by the Nazis, tenor Michael Bell urging people not to accept corrupt governance, but that a better world was possible. The way the singing performances opened up the work is impressive and incredibly moving.

The bravery of voicing such sentiments is borne out in the following movement or section that feels like a lament for Sophie Scholl, but also for other inspirational voices of protest, the video sequence showing Sinéad O’Connor's famous rejection of the oppression of the Catholic church in her ripping up of a picture of the Pope on a television performance, the astonishing image of the protester standing in front of the tanks rolling into Tiananmen Square, in the protests of the Civil Rights movement. It's deeply moving, not just for the familiar images, but for what the music expresses in that moment and in what has led up to it. The final movement set against video footage of Pussy Riot being arrested in Moscow for "hooliganism" performing a protest song against Putin in a cathedral, uses musical references to their song 'Putin Lights Up The Fires', closing the work with imagery and a musical salvo that can't but leave a deep impression.

More than just seek to be controversial and provocative, Conor Mitchell has demonstrably been a progressive force in the local music scene in the classical world, keen to reach out and engage with all kinds of audiences, encouraging reflection on the state of the world today and the forces that try to restrict or repress freedom of expression, whether that's political leaders, religious leaders or even the restraints of family. He has also used video projection to enhance the musical expression on a similar theme in a shorter piece Lunaria, but this is a triumph on another scale. The Riot Symphony may be his most important work yet, because it's more than a protest, it's about the right to protest and even the necessity to protest. It's almost a credo for the whole body of Mitchell's work as an artist.

It's all the more remarkable then that one of the most outspoken, challenging and provocative voices in the world of the Northern Ireland music scene comes from the world of contemporary classical music, but Conor Mitchell clearly sees no distinction and will use whatever means necessary - opera, theatre, musical theatre, mass, symphony - without prejudice or distinction, using whatever musical language and in a blending of art forms that will permit the work and its message to reach the widest possible audience.  Mitchell has extended his personal reach with Riot Symphony, a work that will undoubtedly be considered a major work that occupies a significant place in the musical history of Northern Ireland, but it has an important message that will hopefully see it performed more widely and have greater meaning for audiences worldwide.

External links: Ulster Orchestra

Vivaldi - L'Olimpiade (Dún Laoghaire, 2024)

Antonio Vivaldi - L'Olimpiade

Irish National Opera, 2024

Peter Whelan, Daisy Evans, Gemma Ní Bhriain, Meili Li, Alexandra Urquiola, Sarah Richmond, Chuma Sijeqa, Rachel Redmond, Seán Boylan 

Pavilion Theatre, Dún Laoghaire - 7 May 2024

The last time I saw Vivaldi's setting of L'Olimpiade was in 2012 at Buxton during the summer of the London Olympics, and here we are now 12 years later with the Paris Olympics just around the corner. If there isn't one already, there really ought to be some kind of rule about performing this work every four years, or even one of the many other versions of the work (Pergolesi's version is one of the best). At least then you might have half a chance of getting your head around the complications of Metastasio’s libretto.

It's not as if you really need to follow all the twists and turns or accept all the coincidences that take place in L'Olimpiade, nor does the opera really even feature sporting events but maybe because we are in an election year (in Ireland and likely in the UK as well), it struck me that there the olimpiade of the opera is more about the idea of a competition to choose a winner, and our hope that that this outcome - as unpredictable as the results might be - will resolve all our troubles. This is something that the director Daisy Evans acknowledges as a factor in the choices made in this staging the work for the Irish National Opera, that it's more about renewal, rebirth and the chance of new beginnings. It shouldn't be too much of a stretch to compare the misery of lives thrown into turmoil in this opera with the reality for many people in the current living crisis.

Not that this needs to be explicitly pointed out. In fact, the idea of renewal can even be felt from the very fact that a 300 year old opera that can still speak to a modern audience, that its themes and treatment can be renewed with the passing of time to reflect and connect with our own concerns about the world around us. That idea of renewal is also something that the director chooses to feed into the production, and indeed it's probably a necessity for a Baroque opera. This is something that the Irish National Opera have recognised from early on and successfully continued to apply to their progamming of such ancient works. With its references to ancient Greek drama then, the choice is made to play out L'Olimpiade on a small amphitheatre set, the Baroque period of composition acknowledged in the form of the stylised costumes, but all of it brought up to date with modern trainers and neon lighting. 

It's essential to acknowledge the Baroque character of the work in this way; not parody it, but find a way to make it relatable to a modern audience. That is never easy for a work with passages of recitative exposition and arias of various types of woe and lament, with a complicated backstory and some laughable coincidences, but Evans keeps it simple, including amusing little pantomime acted interlude scenes (with additional Vivaldi music) to help the audience understand the strange twists of a plot that you never seem to be able to get your head around, not matter how many times you read the synopsis in the programme. This succeeds wonderfully, keeping it engaging and relatively easy to follow, even if it demands a certain amount of willing credulity.

In terms of plot, well it would serve no purpose to try to unravel it here, but it's the typical Metastasio plot of star-crossed lovers separated by the whims of fate and the thoughtless self-interested actions of ruler and kings. Licida hopes to use the upcoming Olympic games to win the hand of the woman he loves, Aristea (her hand offered as a prize by the King Clistene), by getting his athletic friend Megacle to win the games for him, both of them unaware that in so doing Megacle will be giving to Licida the woman he loves and who loves him, but unable to marry because the King hates Athenians. Oh, the misery and soul searching this is going to cause. And that's not even the half of it! The complications of the opera’s plot - as improbable as they seem - do nonetheless reflect the reality of challenges we all face, even as we do our best to aim towards a favourable outcome. How can we trust our hearts and chose to believe in when there is much deceit, when people turn out not to be who they say they are, when fate throws misfortune our way? L’Olimpiade suggests that things work out for the best in the end, which might not be realistic but hope is important too.

There are a number of factors that help make this work, which you can simply and accurately summarise as just being the magic of opera. Making the plot understandable is the most obvious challenge and as noted above, the director does everything possible to ensure it works. Vivaldi however is evidently also an important factor, his music not only being characteristically invigorating and entertaining, but perfectly attuned to their emotional states, giving each of them a sympathetic hearing and with a distinct character rather than the usual generic interchangeable expressions of woe. In terms of making that work in live performance, the authenticity of the sound in the use and marvellous playing of period instruments by the Irish Baroque Orchestra, conducted with superb pacing and dynamism from the harpsichord by music director Peter Whelan, give the opera the necessary kick and drive to take you along with it.

Most importantly perhaps, vital at least in this opera for making the dramatic developments feel true, is the singing. The casting for the range of characters and voices is superb, and - like Mozart's operas - it helps that these are all fresh young fresh singers. Without in any way wishing to underplay the challenges involved in singing these roles, Vivaldi doesn't provide the usual show-offy arias, but writes for the voice in a way that brings out the underlying sentiments hidden behind the typical Metastasian nautical and meteorological metaphors (weathering the stormy seas of fate). It's more important to imbue the characters with personalities and not just ciphers with the generic feelings that are described in the libretto. That's by design of course, not chance, and it's undoubtedly the reason why this same libretto has been employed so often, first by Antonio Caldara before Vivaldi, and after that over 100 settings by Pergolesi, Scarlatti and Piccini among others in the 18th century, with even Donizetti and Beethoven having a go at it in the 19th century.

Simplicity then is the key to the presentation, trusting in the original and not over-complicating it by imposing a modern concept upon it. It will resonate with the listener itself if it is done right and that is exactly what the creative team and the singers do here. The main players are Megacle, sung by here by a mezzo-soprano Gemma Ní Bhriain and Aristea, sung by another mezzo-soprano Alexandra Urquiola. Their central importance and the quality of their performance is revealed in a beautiful Act 1 duet that combines the ecstasy of their reunion with the tragedy of what they know lies ahead for them, Megacle left with no choice but to give it up his love for the sake of his friend Licida who once saved his life. Both Ní Bhriain and Urquiola demonstrate how critical it is to bring a human element to the work, and so too do the rest of cast, each of whom get the opportunity to put their side across in arias and ariosos, each similarly inviting compassion and understanding. Licida and Aristene, the other key figures with a troubled history (to say the least), are well performed here by Meili Li and Sarah Richmond.

With this kind of treatment, attention to character, music and the efforts to make something of the plot, everything comes together and when you are able to do that with a work like this, it can be breathtaking. We know to expect this now from the INO, with this now being the third Vivaldi opera undertaken by Whelan and the Irish Baroque opera, which no doubt accounts for a 300 year old opera selling out three nights at the Pavilion theatre in Dún Laoghaire. It's also gratifying to see that it is touring more widely with no less than eight upcoming performances at the Royal Opera House's Linbury Theatre in London all already sold out as well. Audiences can still enjoy the work's spirit of renewal and continue to something new from L'Olimpiade 300 years later. Whether they get something new and hopeful in renewal of government is another matter.

Links: Irish National Opera

Production photos: Ros Kananagh

Verdi - Rivoluzione e Nostalgia (Brussels, 2024)

Giuseppe Verdi - Rivoluzione e Nostalgia

La Monnaie, 2024

Carlo Goldstein, Krystian Lada, Enea Scala, Vittorio Prato, Justin Hopkins, Nino Machaidze, Gabriela Legun, Hwanjoo Chung, Scott Hendricks, Giovanni Battista Parodi, Dennis Rudge, Helena Dix, Paride Cataldo, Saténik Khourdoian

OperaVision - 29/30 March 2024

'What will remain of our time?', a man called Giuseppe ponders at the start of Rivoluzione, a two-part opera compilation of selected arias from early Verdi operas created for La Monnaie in Brussels. Well, the music of Giuseppe Verdi remains a cornerstone of the opera repertoire 150 years after his major works, suggesting that his operas still have something that speaks to us today, but what of the lesser early works? Will the ideas expressed in those works from the 'galley years' spent honing his craft still have something to say in the future. That seems to be the question that lies at the heart of La Monnaie's early Verdi project, and if the answer is not clearly resolved in the way that the project might have hoped, it certainly suggests that Verdi's early operas have qualities that ensure that they will be around much longer than Rivoluzione e Nostalgia.

Still, there is merit or at least purpose in such a project, all of the excerpts from these two back-to-back operas being selected from Verdi's first sixteen operas operas, most of which in the main are rarely performed. The reasons for the lack of new productions of these works is open to debate. You could argue an opera house has to consider the commercial aspect; why put on Alzira when you have the name familiarity of a new La Traviata or Aida to bring in the punters? This suggests the other argument that indeed the early ‘galley years’ works are inferior, but inferior to what? To later Verdi unquestionably, but on their own merits the works can be thrilling pieces of crowd-pleasing operatic drama. The quality of the musical composition and hints of the greatness of the later Verdi can be found there - as this project ultimately proves - but the plots of those works are, not to put too fine a point on it, somewhat hokey pot-boiler melodramas. The challenge for Rivoluzione e Nostalgia is whether it can cannibalise those great moments from Giovanna d’Arco, Nabucco, Stiffelio etc. and put them into a new context with a coherent plot in order for us to see their continued value and relevance.

There's an argument then for taking the works out of their original dramatically and psychologically dubious context and applying them to a newly written drama that presents the musical qualities in a better light. It's not as if this is anything new in the world of opera, which has an ancient but now not so common tradition of the pasticcio opera. I can't think of any pasticcio that draws exclusively from the work of one composer, although some lost Vivaldi works have been reconstructed from his other compositions and Rossini is well-known for cannibalising his own works to make new ones. I recall that not too long ago a ballet was made entirely of Verdi's instrumental music and overtures, undoubtedly for similar reasons to this project, ie. the music is too good to let languish. If that's the case then the idea of an early Verdi pick 'n' mix is a good one, but - again not to put too fine a point on it - unfortunately the execution fails in this La Monnaie production of Rivoluzione e Nostalgia.

It's arguable whether it's a good idea to start the first part Rivoluzione with 'Patria oppressa' (from Macbeth). You can't make a bigger statement about the proposed subject than that, and at the same time demonstrate the quality of Verdi's composition, but the new plot context for this piece doesn't really stand up to such a moving chorus. The context for it is a video sequence showing random footage of life in the late 1960's that is to be set into turmoil by conflict and war around the world, ordinary people affected by events in Vietnam and Algeria, initiating student protests in many major cities around the world, but specifically here in Italy, presumably Rome. Starting off on such a note as 'Patria oppressa' however, it is going to find it hard to sustain the momentum and build on that, and indeed instead of a struggle between the rulers of nations and their people, Rivoluzione turns its focus on a romantic tug-of-war between Laura and Carlo and Lorenzo, with her brother Giuseppe adding to the sense of outrage. With Laura a  bourgeois girl, the daughter of the chief of police falling in love with Carlo a common shipyard worker, the struggle becomes one of crossing class boundaries and accusations of being a traitor to the ideals of the proletariat.

The shortcomings of the resetting of the plot aside, there are other weaknesses in the execution of Rivoluzione. Inevitably, considering the cut-and-paste method, there is no through-composition, the cabalettas, arias and choruses drawn from the likes of Ernani, La battaglia di Legnano, I masnadieri and Luisa Miller separated by filmed segments of ponderous portentous spoken dialogue. The names of the characters of Laura and Carlo are defined by the first two arias taken from Luisa Miller ('Lo vidi e'l primo palpito' and 'Sacra la scelta è d’un' consorte'), but elsewhere names and words are subtly changed to reflect the new context, referring to the bourgeoisie and barricades (I masnadieri for example retranslated from 'brigands' to 'agitators') removing references to the diverse nationalities of the different operas.

Dancers are used to bring another element to the stage production, enlivening the stage drama with energetic modern jerky movements. They don't do much to take the heat out of Verdi's blood and thunder melodrama, but instead emphasise every single note, pushing the emotional charge of the scene far beyond its limit, certainly further than a romantic love-triangle plot between revolutionary students can sustain under the excuse that 'Il personale è politico', the private is political. Say what you like about the plots of Verdi operas, but at least they aimed for grand historical drama that merited such musical forces. The plot of this one is too slight and insignificant to bear such weight. Bizarrely - something I've never felt about Verdi operas or even any previous production - but removed from their original context, the confected love-triangle struggle feels more like a macho power struggle than the typical Verdian questions of conflict between love, family and duty.

What is indisputable however is that musically, Rivoluzione is outstanding. Nino Machaidze as Laura is sensational and Gabriela Legun as Cristina no less impressive in the supporting soprano role. Enea Scala's Carlo is a robust Verdi tenor, dramatic and lyrical, Vittorio Prato's Giuseppe and Justin Hopkins' Lorenzo less so, but capable nonetheless. When you have singers of this quality, you can admire the individual pieces from these scarcely performed Verdi operas and the passion that underlies them, even if the dramatic context in their new setting remains flawed. Across two parts totalling 5 hours of this diptych, you can imagine that the cumulative impact might be a bit much. So after the three hours of Rivoluzione I hoped for a little respite in Nostalgia.

'What will remain of our time?' Well, the question that the 1968 setting of Rivoluzione failed to establish in any significant way is explored in Nostalgia, inevitably to diminishing returns. Laura has disappeared, we later discover now dead, but there are video documents of the student days of the 'revolutionaries' who ended up betraying their cause and the revolution, accepting pay-offs and now - reuniting in a plush art gallery to view Carlo's latest barricade installation piece (which is actually rather good) - feeling somewhat guilty about their acceptance into the bourgeois world of art and commerce. There is at least some respite from the onslaught of full-throttle Verdi in Rivoluzione, and great pleasure to be found in the musical choices that include the overture from Jérusalem, an aria from Il corsaro, a romanza from I due Foscari, scenes from Macbeth and - essentially - the chorus of the Hebrew slaves 'Va pensiero' from Nabucco as a finale.

Relying on Macbeth for a large portion of Nostalgia however reveals some weaknesses in the singing. Macbeth is a bigger role than Scott Hendricks can manage, Carlo unconvincingly transforming from tenor Enea Scala into a baritone seemingly for this purpose. Helena Dix is more capable, but not convincing in the Banquet scene or the sleepwalking scene (sung bel canto style with references remaining to Banquo's ghost). Compared to the other rare Verdi operas drawn on, Macbeth is also perhaps too familiar to view in a new context. Dramatically, on the basis of being not much more than haunted by past crimes of betrayal to 'the cause' - and even then it's the banal gossip of romantic betrayal that dominates - it's not strong enough to erase memory of the original when the filmed segments between the arias and choruses fail to merge into anything that resembles a plot. Hendricks, never a Verdian baritone, I'm sorry to say fairly murders 'O vecchio cor, que batti' from I due Foscari. Only Gabriela Legun really stands out again here as Virginia, but even her 'Egli non riede ancora' from Il corsaro lacks a convincing context and emotion that a genuine plot and true characterisation might bring.

Despite the dramatic weaknesses of the diptych, its overextended length, the inconsistency of the singing and its failure to amount to a coherent opera, there is nonetheless some merit in this production of Rivoluzione e Nostalgia. Aside from reminding us that there is a treasure trove of musical richness in the rarely performed first sixteen operas of Giuseppe Verdi, it also proves that opera is not primarily about the music or the singing, but that the drama is the critical element. Without a meaningful dramatic, philosophical and human context, the singing and music alone is meaningless, or at least diminished. There are of course exceptions to any rule, just as there are exceptional productions that prove the value of many operas, including many of the early Verdi operas, thought to be lacking in substance. Just reviving any one of them (yes, even Alzira is redeemable) would have been preferable to creating Rivoluzione e Nostalgia, but as an opportunity to highlight that there is much more to Verdi than La Traviata and Aida, or indeed Don Carlos and Otello, it makes at least a semi-convincing case. 

External links: La Monnaie-De Munt, OperaVision

Adès - The Exterminating Angel (Paris, 2024)

Thomas Adès - The Exterminating Angel

Opéra National de Paris, 2024

Thomas Adès, Calixto Bieito, Jacquelyn Stucker, Gloria Tronel, Hilary Summers, Claudia Boyle, Christine Rice, Amina Edris, Nicky Spence, Frédéric Antoun, Jarrett Ott, Anthony Roth Costanzo, Filipe Manu, Philippe Sly, Paul Gay, Clive Bayley, Thomas Faulkner, Ilanah Lobel-Torres

Paris Opera Play - 5th March 2024

When it comes to the films of Luis Buñuel, the ideas and sentiment behind them isn't particularly deep or complicated, but it's the surrealist treatment that distinguishes the works. You could possibly break most of them down to the filmmaker rejecting and making fun of the establishment, the bourgeoisie, the church and their perversions, but he does so in a slightly surreal way that gives them an unexpected character, and a very daring one that challenged many sacred cows. Whether it's Catherine Deneuve as a young newlywed housewife who becomes a prostitute at a high-class brothel in order to enact the deepest sexual fantasies that her young husband is unable to fulfil in Belle de Jour, the story of a nun who resists the lecherous advances of her uncle, renounces her vows and gives his estate over to homeless beggars after his death in Viridiana (including a parody of the Last Supper), some of the images and situations in his films are indelible. None more so than The Exterminating Angel.

Again the idea is a simple one where things seem to go wrong at a dinner party organised by Edmundo de Nobile and his wife Lucia after an evening at the opera. They are surprised to find that the servants are not there to collect the coats of the guests, and this initial upset seems to be the catalyst for throwing the evening into turmoil. The scene is repeated as if to suggest that if the servants, the workers, aren't there to look after them, the upper classes don't know what to do or how to function. They drop their coats on the floor and thereafter everything rapidly falls apart. Enrique drops the hors d’oeuvre ragout, and then Pablo the chief wants to go an visit his sick sister. Even though everything has been prepared, Lucia is outraged. She is going to hold these useless servants to account.

The evening and the celebration for Leticia, the opera singer they call "the Valkyrie", never seems to take off and eventually they each decide to leave. This pleases Lucia, as she intends to conduct a little affair when they go, but somehow no-one seems to be able to leave the room. Perhaps the servants aren't there to open the doors for them. Trapped in uncomfortable proximity with each other in a room they are unable to leave, all the little insecurities they have kept hidden rise to the surface and they find themselves forced to enact them. The further the evening progresses and extends into days, the tensions and pretensions intensify and soon turn from petty arguments and affairs to violence and barbarism.

Buñuel's 1962 film is wildly absurd as it is, so imagine how much more the story must be when Thomas Adès and Calixto Bieito put their stamp on the opera version of the work. The essential theme that must carry over is surely to mercilessly rip into the pretensions of the upper classes and have fun in the process. Subtlety isn't essential, the more extreme the better. Adès certainly has fun introducing strange untypical sounds and instruments like the use of the ondes martenot into the buoyant orchestration. It's as richly and creatively scored as you can imagine, and Adès himself has tremendous fun conducting the Paris Orchestra through it. Yet it is not wild, but controlled, the implication being that the guests haven't lost their minds, they are simply being extreme, or perhaps just unrestrained versions of their true selves.

As a dramatic situation, that is inevitably limited. Taking place in one room where everyone seems to be losing their mind for two hours, the point seems to be made very quickly, and it's just a matter of seeing how far they can push this and what the eventual outcome or explanation for the strange event might be. Inevitably, there is no easy answer and there are many ways of looking at the resultant chaos and the ineffective ways they try to deal with it. The image of sheep - which Calixto Bieito manages to introduce in his own way - suggests conformity and inability to think for themselves to the extent that they are unable to leave a room unless everyone else does, or it could have religious connotations, which are certainly treated with scorn by Buñuel. That is also suggested here, even though the opera version does not include Buñuel's horror in the cathedral epilogue.

Given that, the question must be whether The Exterminating Angel gains anything by being an opera. Unquestionably Adès brings something fresh to the work. Making use of a wide variety of musical instruments and arrangements, it's as musically inventive as you would expect from this composer, finding varied expression for each of the characters, and layering them together with great skill. In terms of transferring those ideas to a stage production, this must be a rare case where the plot of the opera itself has an absurd side that even surpasses what Calixto Bieito usually brings to a production. But then we are talking about Luis Buñuel here, one of the original surrealists, and - while it might not seem like it - Bieito is actually more subtle and suggestive here than the original work. It could be just that the Catalan director has found a work that fits with his own sensibility and indeed I actually would be surprised if Buñuel wasn't a major influence.

If there is one slightly different stance or slant that the opera takes, it's maybe taking the opera evening aspect of the story and making a little more of the idea of musical resolution. This is there in the original, I seem to recall, but unsurprisingly perhaps it takes on another meaning when it is seen in the context of an opera itself, the guests seemingly unable to move until the unfinished playing of Paradisi by Blanca on the piano is brought to a conclusion. As if having to acknowledge that, Adès self-references his own music trapping the guests, and scores the opera singer at a higher pitch than the others, in the same range as Ariel in his version of The Tempest. The finale then, rather than follow Buñuel's cathedral ending, has all the surviving guests emerging dazed from the room, confronting their inner selves and suggesting (in my mind anyway) that the audience do likewise. You must wonder what the audience in the expensive seats at the Bastille make of it, and if that's the only intention in bringing The Exterminating Angel to the modern opera stage, it is surely justification enough.

While occasionally it seems like (controlled) chaos on the stage, there are actually many little touches in both the music, the direction and the singing performances to keep things moving along and give the viewer much to think about. Each of the characters have their own hang-ups and ways of dealing with being locked in that reveals another aspect of the society that the original creator wants to expose and mock. The singing alone is striking enough to grab your attention. There is an exceptional cast assembled here, and each have their own distinctive part to play. It's hard to just pick out one or two in a cast that includes great performances from Nicky Spence, Christine Rice, Philippe Sly, Anthony Roth Costanzo, Paul Gay and Clive Bayley, but Jacquelyn Stucker is exceptional as Lucia di Nobile, Claudia Boyle delivers an impressive lament/lullaby late in the opera for Silvia's son Yoli and Gloria Tronel hits those stratospheric heights as the opera singer Leticia.

External links: Opéra National de Paris, Paris Opera Play

Wagner - Die Walküre (Brussels, 2024)

Richard Wagner - Die Walküre

La Monnaie-De Munt, 2024

Alain Altinoglu, Romeo Castellucci, Peter Wedd, Nadja Stefanoff, Ante Jerkunica, Gábor Bretz, Marie-Nicole Lemieux, Ingela Brimberg, Karen Vermeiren, Tineke Van Ingelgem, Polly Leech, Lotte Verstaen, Katie Lowe, Marie-Andrée Bouchard-Lesieur, Iris van Wijnen, Christel Loetzsch

RTBF Auvio Streaming - 8th February 2024

It's hard to describe a Romeo Castellucci production in any way that makes logical or narrative sense, especially when you're only half-way though it. That's as far as we have got with his production of Der Ring des Nibelungen cycle at La Monnaie, and at this stage with Das Rheingold presented earlier this season, the most we can say after Die Walküre is that the focus is very much on tone rather than narrative. It's an approach that is designed to avoid the conventional imagery for one that marries spectacle worthy of the status of the mythology with an intent to delve deeper into the emotional and ideological nature of the work as expressed in the music. If there's a work that can sustain many layers it's Wagner's Ring and Castellucci certainly is aiming to bring a unique response and new ideas to this tetralogy of operas.

What those ideas might be however is still hard to define at this stage, but in terms of mood and character and tone it already has made a considerable impact, particularly with the musical direction under the baton of Alain Altinoglu. That tone is set straight away in Die Walküre - as it ought to be - by the opening storm that shows a Siegmund being battered against a screen bearing a faint imprint of a ring/circle by a gushing torrent of water. His predicament is clear. Less clear maybe is the colourful apparel that Hunding's wife presents him with when welcoming him unwittingly into the trap of her home, but a pacing wolf-like black dog and a shifting array of oppressive rooms, cabinets, wardrobes and furniture enclosing the two of them in tight spaces fits perfectly with the threat that this stay presents to the Walsung.

Why Hunding reposes in what looks like a confessional however is anyone's guess, the set transforming from darkness to light, the set turning minimalist with only the confessional, a bed and a fridge shifting around the open space. The sword Nothung is not buried in an ash tree but borne by or perhaps actually buried in Sieglinde. Removed, it is stored in fridge while Siegmund and Sieglinde welcome the sudden arrival of spring by burying each other in flowers and rolling around in blood, enact a baptism or kind of rebirth as brother and sister in blood. The least you can say is that stagecraft is remarkable and holds attention even if it is hard to rationalise, the shifting props and minor adjustments of lighting, smoothly and imperceptibly changing from one scene and mood into another.

If you think Act I was peculiar, Act II despite being again rather minimalist in overall approach has many more eccentric touches, too many to go through every one of them all and you'd be none the wiser even if they were described. What matters is whether it gets across the gravity and import of this lynchpin scene of this opera and debatably the whole tetralogy. What it seems to focus on is the opposition of ideals and philosophies of the opposing forces within Valhalla, or at the very least find visual ways of establishing their character. Fricke enters Valhalla in an extravagant white wedding gown with a troupe of similarly attired followers, fairly shaking with rage at the mockery Siegmund and Sieglinde have made of the sacred sacrament of marriage. She crushes some white doves while Wotan washes the head of a statue of Buddha with milk. Whether you take any deeper meaning from this or not, there is no reason why these gods should behave as ordinary mortals.

For his part, Wotan recounts his folly and his failure to Brünnhilde wearing a red blindfold with dark semi-invisible figures of his entourage waving flags that spell IDIOT behind him. Brünnhilde's steed Grane is seen as nothing more than disembodied skeletal floating lower legs, again operated by invisible extras. Brünnhilde is crushed momentarily beneath its hoof at the weight of Wotan's will and command to the Valkyrie. Act II of course is all about revisiting the past and determining the future, and it can be a little dry, so these visual theatrics can help establish the nature of what transpires, but it's hard to see that these add anything, or really understand their intent. It seems to get even sillier still when Brunhilde gives Siegmund an orange while advising him of his fate on shifting sands, all of Act II delivered in the gravest intonations, before shapeless creatures smother him. Regardess of what you make of it, musically, vocally and in terms of the tone you expect, it delivers the depth of intensity of the Act.

Likewise, Act III fires into the Ride of the Valkyrie with the same full dark intent. These are Valkyrie to truly strike terror into the soul as, dressed in black robes with helmets and shields, they drag the hairless naked bodies of fallen heroes to their final resting place in Valhalla in the enveloping bleak darkness of the stage. The final scene between Wotan and Brünnhilde is completely stripped back to black as a large white screen is lowered and tilted over them, with only a few ominous shadows rippling across on the other side of the veil behind them. There is a brief burst of flame in a circle, the shape of the ring that has become the connecting or defining element between the beginning and end of each of the two operas so far. Nothing else is needed really when Alain Altinoglu conducts the orchestra to bring out every nuance of emotion and sensitivity from the scene.

The La Monnaie Die Walküre is given a very different treatment to the one in Das Rheingold. It's a dark shadow world for the larger part of this opera, the world unformed and unstable, from the shifting furniture of Hunding's abode in Act I, the pacing wolf, the swarming figures that swallow Siegmund, the dark mounts of the Valkyrie that pass by in the background. Individually, these things might not add up to anything meaningful, but collectively they establish a specific mood, finding the necessary balance of darkness and light (admittedly more darkness than light in this work). Like Frank Castorf's extraordinary Bayreuth Ring, Castellucci is clearly not going to be restricted to a single style across this cycle, adapting to the distinct character of each of the works and the opportunities they offer. So far however it lacks the thematic rigour of Castorf's Ring and an overall concept hasn't yet emerged other than this idea of a circle or ring being a key image, which is appropriate but hardly revolutionary.

Some might expect more from Romeo Castellucci on this epic tetralogy, but so far Das Rheingold and Die Walküre have been successful in their own context and who knows whether certain visual leitmotifs might not recur in the next two works (probably not). Certainly the musical direction of Alain Altinoglu provides the necessary heft that you would expect and perhaps the intent is to let the language of the music speak more strongly here, with the visual element supporting that in a more abstract fashion. There are some interesting choices made as far as the casting goes, and I'm all for bringing new voices into the world of Wagner, but not all of them are convincing this time around.

I wasn't too keen on the trills introduced by Nadja Stefanoff's Sieglinde in Act I, but she is excellent in the subsequent acts, looking truly anguished rather than dramatically acting it as seems to be the case with Peter Wedd's Siegmund, a joyless Wehwald. Too many of the performances are operatically earnest, the movements too choreographed to show any real feelings. It seems to afflict Gábor Bretz this time around, his delivery inexpressively intoned with little emotional engagement. There is little sign of resignation you expect from Wotan in Act II or fury in Act III. Marie-Nicole Lemieux is another fine singer who was introduced to to the Wagnerian repertoire in Das Rheingold and her Fricka here is capable, her performance good but perhaps not outstanding or as commanding as you might like. For me, Ingela Brimberg's was the most impressive here, connecting deeply with the different sides of Brünnhilde, but all of the Valkyrie were formidable on a scale commensurate with the mythology of the Ring. Whether we can say that about Castellucci's direction of this Ring cycle remains yet to be seen. 

External links: La Monnaie-De Munt, Auvio streaming

Raskatov - Animal Farm (Vienna, 2024)

Alexander Raskatov - Animal Farm

Wiener Staatsoper, 2024

Alexander Soddy, Damiano Michieletto, Gennady Bezzubenkov, Wolfgang Bankl, Michael Gniffke, Andrei Popov, Stefan Astakov, Karl Laquit, Artem Krutko, Margaret Plummer, Isabel Signoret, Elena Vassilieva, Holly Flack, Daniel Jenz, Aurora Marthens, Clemens Unterreiner

Wiener Staatsoper Streaming - 5th March 2024

There is no question that George Orwell's writing has provided to be a fundamental and premonitory outlook on power, politics and society that stands up today. 1984 continues to have relevance beyond its "sell by date" and may be even more relevant now, but can the same be said for Animal Farm? Has this short but well crafted work really stood the test of time or does it remain an allegory about events around the Russian revolution and the horrors of Stalinism? Some of the aphorisms and observations of course continue to have relevance and remain in daily use, not least the sinister implications of the truth that "All animals are equal, but some are more equal than others". We can still see that there are underlying behaviours that remain true today, that reflect the animal side of human nature, or just human nature as we know it.

There is good reason then for a Russian-born composer to try to make something of Animal Farm, something that brings out the contemporary relevance of the work and its application to the world of today. While the idea of a totalitarianism Communist regime posing a threat to the stability of the world and oppression of its people through the kind of language and means employed is by no means far-fetched or indeed unknown even now, there is a danger that even in the "enlightened" western democracies we can be complacent about the messages that are keenly delivered in Animal Farm, or indeed fail to see that they also apply to many aspects of the society many blindly accept or find acceptable.

Alexander Raskatov certainly isn't someone to see this from a detached perspective or as an academic exercise. Born into a Jewish family in Moscow on the day of Stalin's funeral, Raskatov has direct experience of his family being targeted and suffering under Stalin's regime. Never having read Animal Farm before - understandably it was banned in Russia - there would need to be something that resonated with the composer today, something that would speak about abuses of power in our post-Stalin, post-truth world. Looking around the world today, never mind just Russia, there is no shortage of application and relevance in Animal Farm, without the stage director needing to make any specific reference.

Perhaps then because there is no need to specifically target any one regime or political ideology, the Italian director Damiano Michieletto - who was one of the instigators of the project - retains the abstract, allegorical quality of the animal farm setting, but shifts it onto another level entirely. As if to ensure that there is no danger of anthromorphised animals making it seem like a cute fairy-tale, the production emphasises the horror of the real world application of the allegory by setting it not in a farm, but in an abattoir. Likewise the situations, the rebellion of the animals, the setting of seven commandments of the new regime, the building of the windmill and the inevitable corruption of any ideals remain in line with the themes of the book, but are given a much darker complexion by the choice of setting.

And, of course, Raskatov's music also plays a large part in contributing to the darkness of the work's operatic treatment. The libretto by Raskatov and Ian Burton updates the language to be a little more direct and crude, but only in a way that is befitting of the grimness of the situation. That is matched by the aggressive musical attack. Raskatov's closest musical influences are Schnittke and Weinberg with the importance on drawing from Russian folk music, but Animal Farm also reminds me of Shostakovich, maybe because of the subject the horror of Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk (and possibly because the Krzysztof Warlikowski production of it was also set in a slaughterhouse), with the surreal satire of the animals and the pushed vocalisation of language that takes on some of the characteristics of the animal noises giving it something of the slightly disturbing apocalyptic outlook of Ligeti’s Le grand macabre.

Somehow however the purpose of the work and any real point it might want to make about the world around us today fails to hit home. Part of the problem seems to be that the opera treatment just adds another level of abstraction on top of an already abstract allegorical satire. The setting of the animal farm as a slaughterhouse certainly adds darkness with the suggestion that they are all likely to meet the same fate sooner or later, but the work doesn't really gain any great nuance or detail in translation to opera. Rastakov's score doesn't succeed either in grabbing and holding your attention in order to engage with it fully. It feels detached, an exercise, remaining a fairy-tale fable, despite the best efforts of the composer to invest it with personal and universal significance. As an opera, it also feels episodic, with little opportunity to gain narrative momentum or character development, the ending or moral not at all clear or in line with the original novella.

Although it's intentional of course and part of the whole point of the work, it's also difficult to distinguish the humans from the animals. Or perhaps that's not so much the issue as finding a reason to comprehend the actions of each of them. Despite having distinct vocal ranges written for them they are thinly characterised, which is part of the problem of them being allegorical figures given animal characteristics rather than fleshed out people. It's though no fault of the singing performances, which are exceptional in an opera with a lot of principal roles. All roles are equal of course but some are more equal than others and Isabel Signoret stands out as a character as well as in her delivery of the challenging range of Muriel. Michael Gniffke also makes a strong impression as Snowball. The orchestra of the Vienna State Opera conducted by Alexander Soddy deserve credit for their handling of what is clearly a challenging score.

Despite reservations about the continuing relevance of Orwell's Animal Farm and whether it successfully translates to the stage as an opera with another level of abstraction, I suspect that the opera might have more of an impact in a live environment (I viewed it on the Vienna State Opera streaming service) and more meaningful depending on your experience of living under an oppressive political regime. I daresay, considering the current political climate and the troubling direction of elections and wars in the world today that we might find that Animal Farm still has lessons for us all.

External links: Wiener Staatsoper, Staatsoper Live

Strauss - Salome (Dublin, 2023)

Richard Strauss - Salome

Irish National Opera, 2024

Fergus Sheil, Bruno Ravella, Sinéad Campbell Wallace, Vincent Wolfsteiner, Imelda Drumm, Tómas Tómasson, Alex McKissick, Doreen Curran, Julian Close, Lukas Jakobski, Christopher Bowen, Andrew Masterson, William Pearson, Aaron O'Hare, Eoghan Desmond, Wyn Pencarreg, Eoin Foran, Kevin Neville, Leanne Fitzgerald

Bord Gáis Energy Theatre, Dublin - 12th March 2024

Although the musical and performance standards remained very high, I was left with the feeling that of late the Irish National Opera productions and musical choices were playing a little on the safe side in recent years. As I noted at the end of my review of La bohème however, the promise of Salome - one of the most controversial and groundbreaking operas of the 20th century - suggested that they were ready to take up the challenge of their adventurous earlier years and challenge the audience at the same time. There isn't much more challenging than a blood-soaked woman making love to a decapitated head to the discordant notes of Strauss's thunderous finale of Salome. You should be left semi-stunned at that conclusion, and soprano Sinéad Campbell Wallace and the INO's chief musical director Fergus Sheil made sure on that account.

Thankfully however, the INO at least avoided the advance promotional material's tenuous and opportunistic attempt to portray the opera as "a royal, Succession-like power struggle". There are certainly strong opposing individual positions in Oscar Wilde's Victorian-era drama, and much that can be left open to interpretation, but drenched in decadent poetic imagery of the Symbolists, the principle power struggle in Salome is between the spiritual side of humanity and the physical, sensual side. That's indeed how it is played out in this production, the focus and attention of that internal battle played out in the exchanged between Salome and Jochanaan/John the Baptist, but Herod's intervention and position is also essential to the dynamic and that is also given due attention in the drama, the music and Bruno Ravella's direction of this production.

The struggle as it is then does not need a biblical context, and indeed the entire description of the story amounts to little more than a couple of lines in the Bible. So other than the names of the principal figures there is no visual indication that this take place in biblical Judea. The terrace of Herod's palace designed by Leslie Travers is an impressive semi dome of concrete with a semi circular array of steps leading down to a tree at the front and centre of the stage, the tree in full glorious bloom surrounded by a small circular verdant garden. Herod's guards all wear contemporary grey camouflage military uniforms and carry guns. It's a beautifully abstract set, one designed to draw focus, using bold symbolist imagery in the style of the work without being slavish to the stage directions. The whole mood that it evokes is enhanced with superb lighting and use of shadows.

Some productions of this work tend nowadays to focus on the corruption of Herod's court as a way of understanding or justifying the corrupting influence it would exert on the young woman Salome. She is clearly indulged by her stepfather/uncle and lusted after incestuously by Herod, the drama making no bones about. There is little shown of the excesses of Herod's party, which remains firmly behind a locked door (unlike the recent French production for example). In this production you have to take Salome on her own terms. She is foremost a spoilt child, bored with what conventional privileges the family's riches have to offer. She longs for forbidden fruit - one of the images used in Wilde's wild extravagant and florid writing - and like Wilde himself - the writing almost premonitory of what would come - she is willing to pay the price for stepping outside the boundaries of what is acceptable in this religious and superstitious society detached from or denying certain human impulses.

That of course is in the erotic lust that transforms into a bloodlust for the prophet Jochanaan. The production highlights the battle that rages between them, the battle between his call for her spiritual salvation from the sinful family she is part of and her struggle with her dark sexual desires. Those are amply demonstrated in their exchanges, in Salome's petulant turns between pleading and rejection, but Bruno Ravello finds other visual ways to express this and enhance it. The blossoming tree that covers the pit raised above the stage to reveal a circular platform with shallow water. More water rains down from its roots on Salome and Jochanaan, which the prophet tries to use it as a baptism, but Salome is just drenched in lust.

The Dance of the Seven Veils can and should be used to further enhance expression of sexual desire and how it can be employed, but too often it tends to be underplayed. Not so here. What is even more unusual about how this production makes use of the dance is that it is a rare occasion where Salome actually dances provocatively for Herod. Sinéad Campbell Wallace's movements feel natural and sinuous, using the whole of the stage, drawing close to and away from Herod who attempts to remove her drenched clothing. The use of shadows are also effectively used to draw and hold attention to those moves. Salome reaches the climax of the dance again splashing in the shallow water, spraying it around with her hair. It's a well-choreographed dance that makes its point at this critical juncture in the opera.

There is perhaps no deep analysis of the themes or the character of Salome that others have explored, and the work is certainly open to interesting interpretations, but leaving the work to speak for largely for itself is another option and it can be just as effective. The focus here is on the essential and the essential is the exceptionally good singing performance of Sinéad Campbell Wallace and the musical direction of Fergus Sheil conducting the INO orchestra. Campbell Wallace is every bit as impressive as should be, commanding attention in every movement, gesture and note, embodying Salome's unapologetic lust, unflinching corruption and blindness to all else but her object of desire. It is indeed a love that leaves a bitter taste in the mouth. Tómas Tómasson is an excellent Jochanaan, but there is a strong case for Herod being the true opposition that Salome is rebelling and testing her power against, and that is very much down to a superb performance from Vincent Wolfsteiner. Alex McKissick also made a strong impression as the young Syrian captain, Narraboth.

For me personally, the greatest pleasure was in hearing Strauss's remarkable score performed by INO orchestra under Fergus Sheil at the Bord Gáis Energy Theatre in Dublin. This is how you want to hear what for me is the greatest opera work of the 20th century performed. There are other many other great works, but inspired by the extraordinary subject matter, Richard Strauss was the first to push music in a new direction that permitted further breaking of conventions and taboos in music. Sheil's attention to the detail is impressive, the music by turns seductive and brutal, dark and discordant, the conductor making full use of the thunderous dynamic that Strauss employs with an orchestra of this size. Combined with the singing performances and the stage production, this Salome had all the nuance and drama that this outrageous and shocking opera demands. The INO are back on full form.

External links: Irish National Opera