Giacomo Puccini - Madama Butterfly
Irish National Opera, 2019
Timothy Redmond, Ben Barnes, Celine Byrne, Julian Hubbard, Brett Polegato, Doreen Curran, Eamonn Mulhall, John Molloy, Niamh O'Sullivan, Rachel Croash, Brendan Collins, Robert McAllister, Kevin Neville, Cormac Lawlor
Bord Gáis Energy Theatre, Dublin - 28 March 2019
In his programme notes, director Ben Barnes quotes Woody Allen, "People marry and die. Pinkerton does not return" and follows it with the personal observation, "Would that he had never come in the first place". It's by no means a new idea to see Madama Butterfly as a condemnation of American political and cultural imperialism rather than just a romantic tragedy; the marriage of an American sailor to a naive Japanese child bride certainly invites that response to a modern audience. The director's observation however is a bold statement of intent all the same and I hoped to see that developed in the Irish National Opera's new production of Madama Butterfly. Barnes certainly followed through on that idea, not as boldly as he might have, but in an opera as popular as Madama Butterfly, it's perhaps wise not to stray too far from audience expectations.
To be fair, taking Madama Butterfly out of Japan is no minor adjustment. I've seen a lot - and I mean a lot - of Madama Butterflys in my time and quite a few updatings, but none have dared to dispense almost entirely with the pretty Japanese imagery of its Nagasaki setting. I say 'almost' however and that's because an Asian element is still apparent and pretty much essential to the purpose of the clash of both the romantic and cultural ideals. Director Ben Barnes sets the INO production to all intents and purposes in Vietnam in the 1950s/60s and makes a few minor modifications to the surtitles to hide the references to Japan and Nagasaki, even though the libretto remains unchanged.
The pan-Asian set design however doesn't depart too far from what you might expect to see on the stage in a production of Madama Butterfly, but it extends the range of the work considerably from the romantic delusions of one couple in Nagasaki. It also makes it easier to see it in terms of a critical look at American imperialism that essentially views Asians as all the same and ripe for exploitation for their own interests.
It's refreshing then to see characters wearing Chinese pointed bamboo hats and robes instead of kimonos and obis, even though the customs referred to in the libretto remain Japanese and the house still very much the traditional shoji style paper panel screens, but every effort is made to not rest on the standard imagery and ceremonial representations that are all too familiar in productions of Madama Butterfly. Credit should go to Libby Seward who shows great inventiveness in the choreography and colour of Act I, finding the flow and mood of the work perfectly and mirroring it in the arranging of the chorus, in little movements and gestures. It's visually splendid and makes the observations of character much more engaging than Act I usually is, particularly as I say, since the production is not terribly bold here with any overt political commentary.
For the most part then we had to make do with the singing, and when I say 'make do' I really mean just be absolutely floored by the quality of the cast and the beauty of the performances. There was more than enough here in the definition of the characterisation to make up for the lack of any apparent deeper purpose in the production. Celine Byrne, an international star only now getting the opportunity to perform back home in Ireland with the creation of INO last year, was simply stunning. She almost made singing Cio-Cio-San look easy, which is no mean feat, but that doesn't mean she coasted at all either. This was a heartfelt performance with intelligent phrasing and technique that let little insights into Butterfly's character show. Combined with a luxurious timbre, no harshness or strain evident, just a clear ringing rounded delivery, everything you could want from Puccini's tragic heroine is present here in an engaging and masterful performance.
There was no slacking or weaknesses anywhere else; it was as if everyone had to up their game to be on the same level as Celine Byrne. Julian Hubbard was a fine Pinkerton, a little neutral in characterisation, but sometimes it's necessary not to overstate Pinkerton as a 'villain' since he doesn't see himself that way (although it's annoying that audiences still insist on treating him as a pantomime character, booing the villain at the curtain call), but just let the work speak for itself. Brett Polegato was a wonderfully sonorous Sharpless and Doreen Curran's Suzuki was perfectly pitched in voice and character to complement Byrne's Cio-Cio San. There was plenty to 'make do' also in Eamonn Mulhall's Goro, John Molloy's Bonze and in the lovely chorus work. The INO really have an impressive pool of talent to draw upon here.
It's only during the Intermezzo between Act II and Act III that Ben Barnes really lets fly and hits home with the impact that up to then had been left to the singers to deliver. Projections onto the closed shoji screens of Butterfly's house show everyday people's lives in Asia being gradually overturned by American involvement in the East; politicians and soldiers seem oblivious to the reality and inhumanity of what takes place in Vietnam as bombs are dropped and villages are burnt. It's dropped in so suddenly without any prior notice that it's a bit jarring and doesn't fit well with what has come before. A few hints might have integrated this better into the production as a whole, but on the other hand the element of shock is just as effective and it actually doesn't seem heavy-handed (or at least not any more heavy-handed than Puccini's score, should you see it that way), and it opens up the work's dramatic scenes of betrayal and death on a much larger scale than it being just an isolated little incident of romantic tragedy.
I must admit that I sometimes get tired of the idea of going to see another Madama Butterfly, but that only lasts up to the moment that I hear the first few bars of the score and I am immediately gripped and transported by Puccini's genius and his ability to make this intimate little story so momentous. That magic works again under the conducting of Timothy Redmond, the RTÉ Concert Orchestra giving a balanced reading that shows no heavy-handedness either. When you get to the Humming Chorus, you know that the spell is working by how this moment commands absolute reverence on a popular and emotional level in a way that few other pieces of music or opera can achieve. The response at the conclusion of this Irish National Opera production shows that they successfully connected the heart of the work with the hearts of the audience in Dublin.
This production can now be viewed steaming on-line on the RTE Player.
Links: Irish National Opera
William Balcom - Dinner at Eight
Wexford Festival Opera, 2018
Leslie Dala, Tomer Zvulun, Mary Dunleavy, Stephen Powell, Gemma Summerfield, Brenda Harris, Craig Irvin, Susannah Biller, Sharon Carty, Brett Polegato, Richard Cox, Ashley Mercer, Sheldon Baxter, Maria Hughes, Laura Margaret Smith, Gabrielle Dundon, Ranald McCusker, Henry Grant Kerswell
O'Reilly Theatre, National Opera House, Wexford - 23 October 2018
While it's true that few contemporary European composers have yet to make any kind of popular or lasting impact in the world of opera, American contemporary composers have fared a little better. In America, that is; over here in Europe they haven't had the same level of success. Now however, they are getting harder to ignore. There have been quite a few recent efforts to bring more accessible American opera over, and a few more in the centenary of Leonard Bernstein, but still few have made any real impact on this side of the Atlantic.
While the emphasis is on a commitment to reviving rare 19th century opera, with an emphasis on little known bel canto and verismo, Wexford Festival Opera have in recent years also played their part in bringing contemporary American opera to the stage in Europe. Not that there is any comparison or obvious musical connection between them other than the fact the fact that they are rarely performed. It says a lot even that the name William Bolcom means nothing to me, but this year Wexford have picked up Bolcom's Dinner at Eight, a new work by the veteran composer first premiered in Minnesota in 2017 and given its European premiere here.
Which begs the question; just where does William Balcom fit in the world of contemporary opera? Considering the subject of Dinner at Eight, it's American Depression-era setting and its success as a George Cukor movie, it seems obvious that there is going to be some jazz and some Broadway influences in the music, at least in the manner of Gershwin or Bernstein. Balcom however proves to be a little more complicated than that, an admirer of Luciano Berio and Pierre Boulez, studying with Olivier Messaien, working closely with Darius Milhaud and even composing in serialism for his early works.
As far as Dinner at Eight is concerned however, while the domestic situation and cinematic flavour of the drama might suggest a kinship with Strauss's Intermezzo, the musical idiom is closer to Bernstein (Trouble in Tahiti), Barber (A Hand of Bridge) - Barber even a mentor of sorts to Balcom - and Menotti (The Telephone), albeit a little bit darker in nature and with some of those European influences there in the background. Essentially however what is important and what American composers can evidently do best (I'll make an exception in the case of Philip Glass's The Perfect American) is deal with particularly American preoccupations.
How successful Dinner at Eight is on this score is debatable. At the heart of the story is evidently a dinner party, but the guests who have been invited and the circumstances in which they have been invited are quite revealing about a number of aspects of American society, past and present. For socialite Millicent Jordan it's a chance to increase her social standing as Lord and Lady Ferncliffe are arriving in New York on the Aquitania have accepted her dinner invitation. For her husband Oliver, the dinner party is a way to entertain a new business client, Dan Packard and his wife Kitty, even though his wife thinks them both vulgar.
Also invited to the dinner party are Dr Talbot and his wife Lucy, former star actress Carlotta Vance, once promising actor Larry Renault and the Jordan's daughter Paula. Dr Talbot we find however has been having an affair with Kitty Packard, and both their partners know about it or at least have suspicions. Paula is engaged, but has been having an affair with Larry, whose youthful looks are fading and his career along with it as he descends into alcoholism. Carlotta meanwhile has sold her stocks in Jordan Shipping Lines and Dan is poised to liquidate Oliver's company. To top it all off, the Ferncliffe's cancel and the lobster in aspic has turned into a disaster. It's going to be quite a dinner party.
The opera however only needs to take us up to the moments before the party, Millicent and Oliver Jordan putting a brave face on things in the face of the impending disaster, but the situations leading up to it leave the viewer in no doubt about how serious things have been. One of the guests even commits suicide before dinner at eight, and there could well be others considering the decline in fortunes of most of the guests here. Dinner at Eight does deal then with some serious issues that still apply to contemporary American society, but whether that comes through coherently, or in any way that the ordinary person can relate to is far from sure. The focus on the arrangements for the dinner party and Millicent's disappointment about things going badly makes it all feel very trivial, despite those dark aspects.
Musically, Dinner at Eight follows a rather conventional format; everyone gets their little showpiece aria, there are Broadway music hall introduction choruses at the beginning of each act and the libretto by Mark Campbell lays out the progression of the plot and the undercurrents in a linear and expositional manner. There is however certainly some complexity and trickiness in those arias and some skillfully arranged ensembles, with discordant musical hints at those darker areas. Despite the variety of musical styles employed nothing feels pastiche or referenced, but well suited to the dramatic content. Under the baton of Leslie Dala (festival director David Agler conducting all the other performances), the twists and turns of the score were an endless source of surprise and fascination.
Alexander Dodge's production designs for Wexford are nothing short of stunning, but it is mostly functional in an Art Deco period style. There are - like the music and the drama - hints of social and financial pressures in the Inception-like fold-over of Manhattan buildings pressing down on everyone, in the huge bed that appears to be Kitty's entire world, but otherwise everything in Tomer Zvulun's direction of the drama is fairly literal, much like the musical drama itself. The quality of the singing is exemplary, Mary Dunleavy's Millicent having the choice moments and displaying an exceptional range. Stephen Powell gave a solid performance as Oliver, Susannah Biller an entertaining Kitty Packard and an under-the-weather Richard Cox coped admirably as the unfortunate Larry Renault.
Links: Wexford Festival Opera
Richard Wagner - Tristan und Isolde
Théâtre des Champs-Elysées, Paris - 2016
Daniele Gatti, Pierre Audi, Torsten Kerl, Rachel Nicholls, Steven Humes, Brett Polegato, Andrew Rees, Michelle Breedt, Marc Larcher, Francis Dudziak
Théâtre des Champs-Elysées, Paris - 15 May 2016
There wasn't much that was traditional about the setting of Pierre Audi's new production of Tristan und Isolde for the Théâtre des Champs-Elysées in Paris, but Wagner's groundbreaking opera works on a different plane from most and its internalised exploration of desire is given much better expression in its music than in its dramatic presentation. In that respect Daniele Gatti, conducting this Wagner opera for the first time, found the perfect measure of expression that complemented Audi's representation of the work's complex and sometimes contradictory themes.
In terms of its look and symbolism, the set doesn't appear particularly new or inspired. Instead of a ship in Act I we get large upright panels that vaguely give the impression of a ship's hull. The panels move around the stage to set up barriers, create divisions, opening up and closing down spaces. Instead of a tower, Act II features the huge curved ribs of a leviathan that rise out of the stage, creating wishbone-like formations around a framework that is covered to look like a black standing stone. For the island of Kareol in Act III, the wounded, dying Tristan agonises in a dark box with a mirrored background that opens up to let in the light during Isolde's transfiguration.
Principally however, the expression of the set reflects the work's play of darkness and light. The background is a Robert Wilson-like wall of gradiated light that is partially eclipsed at various points in each of the three acts by one or two large black squares. You can take these as representations of Tristan and Isolde, or view them in the abstract as black hole of all-consuming desire, but its bold symbolism is in accordance with the nature of the work and its themes. The more nuanced levels of the work and the contradictory clashes between life and death in Wagner's Romantic application of the Schopenhauer-influenced meditations are however also played out in more subtle lighting effects.
Mostly however, its the music that carries the weight of all these themes and whether it's Gatti's conducting, the playing of the orchestra or the acoustics of the venue (having encountered none of them together live in this theatre before), but the richness of sound in this performance was incredible. All the detail in the score was brought out with delicacy and precision, and with Wagner and this opera in particular there's a wealth of detail that can be coaxed out if it isn't allowed to be smothered in heavy orchestration. Gatti's pace was perfectly measured to draw every ounce of emotion out of the score, having a lightness of touch, but swelling up into great surges of pure overwhelming desire.
As important as this aspect is it needs to work with everything else around it, and there was a feeling that director, conductor and singers - not to mention lighting that was as important to the overall mood as anything else - were all working to a common purpose. The production, the singing, the measured delivery of the music all remained within that all-important space in Tristan und Isolde between emotionally-charged and overbearing. If one element threatened to take things too far, another would balance it out.
In particular the casting for the singing seemed well-judged for the size of the theatre as well as for the mood and tone that was being pitched. Torsten Kerl's heroic tenor is a little more hard-edged than the usual Romantic Tristan, his voice not a particularly large one either in Act I, but that's understandable at this stage as that voice has a long way to go yet. By Act II and Act III however, I found that I didn't even notice that it was Torsten Kerl, but just that it was Tristan in the throes of unbearable longing. Replacing the originally scheduled Emily Magee, Rachel Nicholls' wasn't a typical Isolde either, her voice softer and more lyrical, her passions more gently expressed, going more with the flow of the production rather than fighting to rise above it. In this case, that approach worked very well, and you can imagine how gorgeous their Nachtgesang was.
Steven Humes was similarly a more restrained King Marke than you more commonly find, his voice well suited to his more forgiving nature here. Less transported by their desires (although desire exists in some form in all of the characters) or perhaps struggling with them more since their master's have abandoned themselves to their sentiments, Michelle Breedt's Brangäne and Brett Polegato's Kurwenal were rather more emotionally driven, both singers making a great impression, balancing out the range of expression. At the conclusion Nicholls' Isolde delivered a Liebestod that accordingly felt like less of a mountain for the soprano to climb than a gentle submission and surrender to the extraordinary forces that had been generated, the music then gently dissipating and evaporating in pure sublimation into the aether.
Links: Théâtre des Champs-Elysées
