Philip Glass - Akhnaten
English National Opera, London - 2019
Karen Kamensek, Phelim McDermott, Anthony Roth Costanzo, Rebecca Bottone, James Cleverton, Colin Judson, Zachary James, Katie Stevenson, Keel Watson, Charlotte Shaw, Hazel McBain, Rosie Lomas, Elizabeth Lynch, Martha Jones, Angharad Lyddon
The Coliseum, London - 2 March 2019
36 years after it was first performed, it's still difficult to place Philip Glass's Akhnaten alongside either traditional or contemporary opera. Where it fits in Glass's repertoire is easier to identify. Akhnaten (1983) is the third part of the composer's Portrait Trilogy of operas, following Einstein on the Beach (1976) and Satyagraha (1980), three works still very much informed by Glass's experiments with minimalism or repetitive music with gradually changing parts. By Akhnaten we also see the composer move gradually away (with changing parts) from the rigid minimalism of his earlier works to incorporate more traditional forms and instrumentation, even if it still remains largely distinct from the classical idiom.
If it's still hard then to pin-down that 'in-between' cross-over period of Glass in the early eighties musically (for me personally his most interesting, creative and indeed even highly influential period, taking in his soundtracks to Mishima and Koyaanisqatsi), the visual presentation and performance aspect of any opera is vital to better assess the quality and nature of a work, and there Akhnaten aligns a little easier with a more traditional medium, albeit still (just about) within that cross-over experimental period that makes it more interesting. Essentially Akhnaten is Grand Opera, or the minimalist equivalent of Grand Opera.
Traces of the philosophy behind the artistic experimentalism of the New York scene of the 70s still remain in Akhnaten, not least Glass's early work with theatre director Robert Wilson and dancer and choreographer Lucinda Childs. It's the overall concept or underlying philosophy behind the works in the Portrait Trilogy that are important and the influence that their central figures have over modern views on science (Einstein), politics (Gandhi) and religion (Akhnaten) are too expansive and intangible to be reductively made to fit a narrative.
Einstein on the Beach is the most abstract of the trilogy, Glass, Wilson and Childs collaboratively creating an environment for the music, theatre and dance to interact to create an alternative form of musical/theatrical narrative. Satyagraha is structured very differently, built around distinct real-life incidents in Gandhi's life, tying them to his influence on Tolstoy and Martin Luther-King and setting the whole thing to a libretto sung in Sanskrit and taken from the Bhagavad Gita. By the time we get to Akhnaten, there is still no clear or traditional narrative line to follow, but there is a linear progression of Akhnaten's coronation following the death of his father Amenhotep, his marriage to Nefertiti and his foundation of a new monotheistic religion.
The setting and ceremonial aspect of the situations (funeral, wedding, religion) perhaps makes it unavoidable, but in terms of presentation and performance, Akhnaten has less to do with the experimentation that informed Einstein on the Beach and Satyagraha and resembles nothing so much as Aida. There's less of an effort to fit anti-war sentiments into a romantic melodrama narrative, and yet Akhnaten does have those qualities in its own peculiar way, and it certainly achieves an impact that is commensurate with Aida. Anyone who thinks that Glass's repetitive rhythms and arpeggios are mechanical and devoid of emotional content need only listen to the love duet of Act II to see that there is an expression as deeply romantic as any of the love duets and arias of Aida and Radamès.
After his spectacular new production of Satyagraha, it was inevitable that Phelim McDermott would be the director capable of putting a strong visual and thematic stamp upon Akhnaten. It proves to be one that not only matches the setting and period of the work in an otherworldly manner, but it works along with Glass's abstract presentation of the scenes that rely on ancient Egyptian texts and inscriptions, which are used not so much for 'authenticity' as for attaining an almost spiritual or transcendental dimension. In this Akhnaten's repetitive rhythms, marching beats and building crescendos are texturally much richer than the operas that precede it.
Another important quality to the presentation is simply engaging the audience's attention in the absence of any traditional musical or dramatic narrative; the audience still needs something to keep them amused during the long repetitive instrumental or chanted choral scenes that evidently are not subtitled (and wouldn't be all that more meaningful if they were). The idea of having a framing backdrop with posed figures like moving hieroglyphics is an obvious idea, and it does look spectacular. It doesn't strive for 'naturalism' otherwise it would (and indeed has in the past) just look like Aida. McDermott's stylisations, rather like the original English premiere of the work, go for an almost science-fiction world to emphasise the mysterious alien quality of ancient Egypt.
Other tableaux scenes are equally impressive in their lighting, colouration and movement, although for the latter McDermott relies too heavily here on jugglers; it's hypnotic for a few minutes, but nearly three hours of juggling routines is stretching it a bit. Those long building instrumental passages cry out for the kind of dance choreography Lucinda Childs would have provided or the abstract mood that Robert Wilson lighting and spacial geometrics might have produced. A troupe of jugglers throwing balls in the air only goes so far and certainly doesn't engage with the spiritual dimension that the opera aspires towards.
In terms of musical and singing performances however the ENO production is right on the mark. Akhnaten's arrangements have their own challenges and it can't be easy to balance those swirling keyboard runs with brass fanfares, flute and string arrangements, and get the choral and individual singers to weave through it all. Conductor Karen Kamensek however delivered a superbly hypnotic performance that hit the dramatic ceremonial high points and brought out the human emotional undercurrents superbly. Anthony Roth Costanzo really soars, his voice pure and otherworldly in this register to this type of score and Kate Stevenson is no less incredible alongside him. Rebecca Bottone also impresses as Queen Tye, the chorus are superb. With this kind of revival Akhnaten, like the other recently revived works in the Glass Portrait Trilogy, are proving to be special works that still hold a unique place in the world of opera.
Links: English National Opera
Christoph Willibald Gluck - Orfeo ed Euridice
Irish National Opera, 2019
Peter Whelan, Emma Martin, Sharon Carty, Sarah Power, Emma Nash, Dominica Williams, Fearghal Curtis, Matthew Mannion, Robyn Byrne, Stefaniw Dufresne, Javier Ferrer, Sophia Preidel
The Pavilion Theatre, Dún Laoghaire - 28 February 2019
The absolute wonder of Gluck's Orfeo ed Euridice, the reason for its reputation as one of the greatest works of opera ever composed and the ability of the work to deeply move audiences some 350 years after it was composed, lies undoubtedly in its simplicity. Or rather its apparent simplicity since it relates to deep human feelings that connect us to myth, Gluck's work fully employing all the artistic musical, theatrical and dance elements that are the essence of opera. Refinement rather than simplicity of all those elements and how they work together was at the heart of Gluck's reformist agenda for opera, and it's in adherence to those principals that the Irish National Opera succeed in their beautifully simple but refined production.
Such indeed is the refinement and unadorned beauty of Orfeo ed Euridice and the deeper sentiments that underlie its purpose, that it can sustain all manner of interpretations. It is mythology after all. At the heart of the work is perhaps the rawest and most relatable of human emotions, those connected to love and loss, Orpheus's desire to bring his beloved wife Eurydice back from the dead practically serving as a model for Kübler-Ross's five stages of grief; denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. Gluck's ability to make those sentiments behind Orpheus's dramatic/symbolic journey vividly real in musical terms lie at the heart of the work.
Unquestionably then, even though La Fura dels Baus have successfully been let loose on the work with their enhanced stage techniques, they recognised nonetheless that it was essential to forge a connection between the music/musicians and the drama. In rather more stripped back conditions, while still presenting a theatrical presentation of extraordinary beauty, director and choreographer Emma Martin likewise, but through entirely different means, succeeds in making the essence of Gluck's timeless musical moods and melodies visible on the stage in the Irish National Opera's production.
First performed last year for the Galway Festival, but taken this year on a wider provincial tour of Ireland, the venues chosen remain (for the most part) small scale, permitting an intimate closeness with the drama and the production. Indeed, my front row seat at the Pavilion Theatre in Dún Laoghaire placed me practically in the 'orchestra pit', sharing a ground level space almost between the orchestra ensemble and 'stage'. Immersive theatre is nothing new, nor indeed is immersive opera, but it's quite another thing to be immersed in the same space that Gluck's Orfeo ed Euridice occupies, particularly one that in every other way strives to make the work's every sentiment tangible.
Stripping back the orchestra to its essential components, Peter Whelan's arrangement and conducting of the Irish Baroque Orchestra permits the beauty of each of the instruments and the part they play in each of the scenes to stand out all the more vividly. Emma Martin's production likewise reduces the vocal ensemble down to the main roles of Orpheus, Eurydice and Amore, with Amore also part of the four-way harmonised voices of the chorus for the Mourners, Furies and Blessed Spirits. Nothing was lost with this reduction, but rather the refinement of Gluck's musical scoring only even more apparent.
Orfeo ed Euridice was of course originally intended to make use of another element of opera that in the subsequent century after its writing tended to not have such a prominent role, and that's dance. Orfeo ed Euridice is written for movement, it's not the static stand-and-sing solitary aria expressions of the requisite numbers and sentiments of baroque opera, nor is it the stop-start division of singing and ballet of the French tragedie-lyrique, but an essential integration of dance into the whole flow and pace of the work. Orfeo ed Euridice indeed has been staged purely as a dance work, but more often opera productions tend to cut the instrumental/dance passages to suit modern tastes.
As a choreographer Emma Martin however knows the value of dance in Orfeo ed Eurydice adding another dimension to the opera and bring those sentiments to life. The INO production accordingly has a four-person troupe of dancers that symmetrically balance and in a way supplement the four-part chorus, flowing and weaving thought the work like the notes of Gluck's score brought to life. They vividly express all those stages of Orpheus's grief, as much as the impassioned singing of Sharon Carty's Orpheus himself/herself; the anger and the struggle with the Furies (even transforming into a horrifying multi-limbed creature that stalks Orpheus across the stage, wrapping him in his submission to the Blessed Spirits, standing as a barrier between this world and the unreachable other.
The superb flow and choreography extends its mood and reaches outward to take in the stage itself. It doesn't need much in the way of set dressing but everything is purposefully employed, the lighting effective for the mood, the drapes at the back of the stage and the veils wrapped around the figures drawing everything together. It's not just the choreography or even the impressive technical blocking of the singers with the dancers and the sets, it's the direction of every scene to match and express those deeper human sentiments at the heart of the work.
The qualities of the human voice are essential to that purpose and Sharon Carty (Orpheus), Sarah Power (Eurydice) and Emma Nash (Amore) made them soar with love, anger, fear and regret. The essential moral of the mythological take, which was unfortunately lost under the stage requirement of the period to present a happier ending, must also be taken into consideration. Romeo Castellucci managed to address that brilliantly in his living-death element to his production for La Monnaie, and Emma Martin also takes the reality of the nature of bereavement into account here, consigning the happy ending to a kind of postlude that reminds us that after loss, life still goes on.
Links: Irish National Opera
Hector Berlioz - Les Troyens
L'Opéra national de Paris, 2019
Dmitri
Tcherniakov, Philippe Jordan, Ekaterina Semenchuk, Stéphanie d'Oustrac,
Brandon Jovanovich, Véronique Gens, Stéphane Degout, Cyrille Dubois,
Paata Burchuladze, Sophie Claisse, Michèle Losier, Christian Helmer,
Christian van Horn, Aude Extrémo
ARTE Concert - 31 January 2019
Dmitri Tcherniakov may not to everyone's taste as an opera director, but he is
still highly regarded in Paris, by the director of the opera house
Stéphane Lissner at least if not by the vocal traditionalists in the
audience. He's certainly highly enough regarded to be given a
prestigious event like the full version of Berlioz's Les Troyens on the
150th anniversary of Berlioz's death, the 350th anniversary of the Opéra
de Paris and the 30th anniversary of the opening of the Bastille
theatre. Whatever you think about Tcherniakov, he certainly rises to
the big challenge and occasion and doesn't compromise on his own vision
(playing a little safe only perhaps at La Scala with La Traviata in 2013).
The
director's strength is often in harnessing and clarifying the
undercurrents that drive an opera and present them in a modern way, but
his direction of singers to be capable actors and persuade them to come
on board with his ideas is also superb. That doesn't mean overriding
the intentions of the composer, and in fact Tcherniakov's approach to
Les Troyens is a measure of trust in Berlioz's work itself. It can be
updated, it's not just a historical work - either in mythological or
musicological terms - but a work that confronts human fears about war
and terrorism on the one hand and love, healing and security on the
other.
Is there anything more to Les Troyens than that?
Well, of course there is. As it stands, Berlioz's masterwork doesn't
need to be 'filled out', 'clarified' or 'updated', but that doesn't mean
that you can't read between the lines and interpret human actions and
motivations. Not everyone will like the interpretation that Tcherniakov
has proposed and the professional boo-ers at the Bastille certainly
don't (which makes you wonder why else they continue to go, since
creative modernisation has been the case at least since Gérard Mortier's
period in charge of the Paris Opera), but it's valid to interpret and
see the work as more than just a grand spectacle.
Part 1
of the work, La prise de Troie, does indeed present a very different
spin on Virgil's epic account of the siege of Troy, Tcherniakov placing
it in a Russian or Soviet setting that is much more familiar and easier
to elaborate on the underlying tensions and reality of war. He marks a
strong distinction straight off between King Priam and the royal family
in their wood-panelled mansion and the ordinary people fighting on the
streets, taking the time with large titles to ensure that the audience
know who each member of the legendary Trojan family are and what the
relationship is that lies between them, while a running commentary on
the developments of the coming to an end of the ten-year long siege are
rolled out on breaking news TV ticker-tape reports.
Cassandra addresses her premonitions then to a crew of shocked news reporters who are expecting a more positive outlook from the royal family, which is a nice touch
but it's not exactly new (Krzysztof Warlikowski did something similar
with his Princess Di lookalike Alceste for Madrid in 2014). Where
Tcherniakov dares to go further than most however is in projecting the
imagined thoughts of the royal cortege and the elements of distrust that
lie between them during the solemn ceremony for the Trojan dead.
Contributing to that - much more controversially - is the suggestion
that Cassandra has been abused as a child by her father Priam (perhaps
accounting for her being something of an outsider), and Aeneas is seen
collaborating with the Greeks (which accounts perhaps for feelings of
guilt and trauma later).
In terms of spectacle and the
sheer horror of the war that you expect to find overwhelming in this
part of Les Troyens, the Paris production is effective on every level.
Philippe Jordan finds the dark undercurrents in Berlioz's music and
there's a fine cast of singers to play out these deeper undercurrents
that lend it additional weight. More often associated with opéra-comique
and Baroque opera, you wouldn't expect Stéphanie d'Oustrac to carry
that necessary dramatic weight as Cassandra, and she does sound a little
light in places, but it's a strong performance of great conviction and
it's supported by the likes of Stéphane Degout as Chorèbe, Brandon Jovanovich as Énée and Véronique Gens as Hécube. It makes the fate of
Troy more present. Or maybe not 'more' since Berlioz's composition has
been proven to work effectively as long as it has scale, grandeur and
conviction, and it certainly has all those elements, Tcherniakov's
direction in no way diminishing the impact.
Which, of
course is only half the story, since Les Troyens à Carthage has even
more of a spin placed on it. Rather than arrive in Dido's Carthage, the
displaced survivors Aeneas and his crew spend the second half of
Berlioz's epic end up in a PTSD centre for victims of the war. Énée is
almost catatonic from the trauma and guilt for his part in the downfall
of Troy, hearing voices in his head calling 'Italie!', with only
occasional moments of lucidity and spurring into action coming through
group therapy role play battles and relaxation yoga sessions that bring
about that "nuit d'ivresse et d'extase infinie' with Dido, who has also
been dealing with loss and bereavement and is also looking to find
peace.
It all perhaps takes away from the romanticism of
the work in favour of psychological realism, and perhaps romanticism is
actually more in keeping here for Berlioz. For a modern audience too
perhaps an escape from the brutal reality of the world outside wouldn't
be such a bad thing. So we really need to see the contemporary world
reflected and imposed upon Les Troyens? Well that would depend on what
you want to get out of the work, whether you see it (and Latin epic
poetry) as having contemporary relevance, or whether it's just escapist
grand opera musical entertainment and spectacle.
Tcherniakov
nonetheless is successful in tapping into the undercurrents (even if he
has to invent some if it to fit) and in how they are relevant to today.
The spectacle is there too in La prise de Troie, even if it the
glamour is undercut by Les Troyens à Carthage, but I'd argue that all
the romanticism and escapism is there still in the music. Philippe Jordan is mindful of Berlioz's musical sensibilities and influences and
he plays to the works melodic colours and dramatic strengths. Brandon Jovanovich and Ekaterina Semenchuk also bring a new colour to the royal
couple with soft lyrical sweetness that taps into their sensitivities
and their past suffering, very much humanising the characters in line
with Tcherniakov's direction and purpose. After an effective La prise
de Troie however, Les Troyens à Carthage becomes repetitive, lacking in
ideas and consistency, its purpose increasingly distant from the grander
vision of Berlioz.
Links: L'Opéra national de Paris, ARTE Concert
Jean-Philippe Rameau - Hippolyte et Aricie
Staatsoper Unter den Linden, Berlin, 2018
Simon
Rattle, Aletta Collins, Anna Prohaska, Magdalena Kožená, Gyula Orendt,
Reinoud Van Mechelen, Peter Rose, Adriane Queiroz, Elsa Dreisig, Sarah
Aristidou, Slávka Zámečníková, Serena Sáenz Molinero, Roman Trekel,
Michael Smallwood, Linard Vrielink, Arttu Kataja, Jan Martiník
ARTE Concert
The
tragédie lyrique operas of Lully and Rameau, since they were written
for the French royal court in the 18th century, must be seen above all
as grand spectacles. There are moral lessons to be imparted in their
treatments of ancient Greek mythology that can still carry through, but
what essentially strikes a modern audience when these works are
performed is their extravagant blend of music, dance and colourful
dramatic presentations that they seem to inspire. That spectacle can
take many forms, from the ultra-traditional (Hippolyte et Aricie, 2012
Atys 2011) to the stylishly modern (Les Boréades, 2003), or
radically reworked (Les Indes Galantes, Bordeaux 2014) but whatever the case,
the visuals must match up with the elaborate musical arrangements.
The
2018 Berlin Staatsoper production of Hippolyte et Aricie clearly
doesn't go for the traditional approach of Paris 2012,
and to be frank, it doesn't even go for anything recognisably
contemporary like Jonathan Kent's 2013 Glyndebourne production
or anything remotely naturalistic. On the other hand, there's nothing
particularly naturalistic about the mythological subject and, looking
back on Rameau's musical presentation of Racine's Phèdre today, there is
something now otherworldly about the arrangements and the sound of the
instruments themselves that, apart from Handel making them a little more
familiar, is not commonly heard in the main repertoire.
Since the story revolves around Theseus's descent into Hades (following the traditional prelude
of a dispute between the gods) you might at least expect there to be an
otherworldly quality to the presentation, but this production very much
has its own visual interpretation of those places. When you delve into
such places and act outside the laws of nature - Phèdre falling in love
with her husband's son Hippolyte and upsetting the order of her own
marriage and Hippolyte's marriage to Aricie - well, then those
consequences have far-reaching impact. That's something you can hear in
the music and that's interpreted with some originality in the Berlin
staging.
It certainly has extravagance and spectacle.
The opening prelude is a dazzling display of mirrors and laser beams
that are reflected and spread out across the auditorium of the
Staatsoper Unter den Linden. Jupiter takes the form of a glitterball
and even Phèdre is dressed in a gown of small fractured mirrors. The
subsequent scene in the Underworld sees Theseus, Pluton and Tsiphone
under individual coloured lights, each with their upper body bound up in
a frame of interlocking circles, while dark furies shuffle around them
on the stage, and the Parques (Fates) fire out superhero-like laser
beams from their fists. Designer Ólafur Elíasson puts on quite a show.
So
the production certainly has a distinct character of its own and is
appropriately and literally dazzling as a spectacle, but it is still
very much in keeping with the otherworldly character of the operatic
places of mythology evoked by Rameau's elaborate rhythms and harmonies.
Those aspects of the world of the immortals spills over into the 'real'
world of Hippolyte and Aricie, and the production design takes this
into account, allowing the dramatic impact of all this on the human
characters to play out and speak for itself when Theseus returns to find
his wife in a compromising situation with his son. You don't need
special effects to see how he feels. Is this any way to greet someone
who has just come back from the dead?
In the second half
of the production Aletta Collins continues to explore whatever elements
of stagecraft and choreography can best represent the underlying
sentiments of Hippolyte et Aricie, never settling for anything
conventional, but simplifying it to let the human emotions reassert
their prominence. Sometimes that is nothing more than a Bill Viola-like
projection of rippling water, but when Rameau's music steps up a gear,
you get the full visual accompaniment and dancing.
It's a
worthy attempt to revisit and re-envisualise Rameau, but it doesn't really
make the work come alive, engage and having meaning the way that the
impressive 2013 Glyndebourne production did. It's always great to hear
what other performers can bring to these roles however and I think Gyula Orendt comes out as the strongest character here with his Theseus.
Magdalena Kožená is not ideally suited to Phaedre or is perhaps not best
suited to the more elaborate rhythms of French Baroque (even though her
Gluck Orphée et Eurydice in the Paris Robert Wilson production is still
a favourite of mine). Anna Prohaska and Reinoud Van Mechelen are fine
as Hippolyte and Aricie, but they always feel like bland roles to me.
Peter Rose is an excellent Pluto. Simon Rattle's conducting of the
Freiburger Barockorchester didn't really grab me, but like most period
baroque, it probably needs to be best experienced live. That perhaps
goes for the production as a whole as well.
Links: Berlin Staatsoper Unter den Linden, ARTE Concert
Ferenc Erkel - Bánk bán
Hungarian State Opera, Budapest - 2017
Balázs
Kocsár, Attila Vidnyánszky, Marcell Bakonyi, Ildikó Komlósi, Levente
Molnár, Zita Szemere, Péter Balczó, Kolos Kováts, Zsolt Haja, Lajos
Geiger, Gergely Irlanda
OperaVision - 2018
There's
certainly a lot of early Verdi in Bánk bán situations of romantic
intrigue and betrayal set in a time of political upheaval, those operas
of course reflecting the classic literary sources of the period that
they are drawn from. In most cases the romantic melodrama takes
precedence and overshadows what you might think are the rather more
weighty matters of state and history, but as something of a national
opera in Hungary, you sense that there's more justification and
relevance to the personal situations that lead to rebellion against the
state in Bánk bán.
If there's more historical and
national relevance in Ferenc Erkel's account of this historical episode,
well, we can presume that he didn't face the same pressures of
censorship that Verdi was subjected to, and if the musical writing is a
little more rich and varied in its musical expression than early Verdi,
it should be noted that in 1861 when Bánk bán was composed, Verdi was at
his peak writing Otello. Ferenc's opera still holds closely to the
older formal conventions, with arias and interspersed with rousing
drinking songs and rousing choruses expressing nationalistic sentiments.
As for romantic situations, well you wouldn't say that
it's overblown, since that's pretty much a given, but there is a darker
and more serious that develops in the court of King Endre II of Hungary
around the year 1212. While Bánk is out fighting the country's
wars, his wife Melinda is having to fight off the attentions of Ottó,
the brother of Queen Gertrud. For his own evil ends, the courtier
Biberach tells Melinda that Ottó's infatuation is only a ploy to test
the fidelity of the Hungarian women. With the aid of a few potions
however, he permits Otto to have his wicked way with her.
Verdi
might have been writing Otello at the time, but Bánk bán's reaction
when his informed of what he believes is his wife's betrayal is no less
charged with thoughts of anger and revenge than the Moor, nor is
Melinda's despair at what has occurred any deeper than Desdemona. But
there is very much a political and national undercurrent to this
situation that gives a deeper dimension to the drama. Even though it
was a ploy, the test of Melinda's fidelity stands as a test of the
nature of the fidelity and integrity of the Hungarian people, and it has
been bitterly betrayed by, well, not to put to fine a point on it, by
corrupt foreigners.
Gertrud and her brother Otto are
Meranians (Germans), who have married into the Royal family, and they
have been abusing their power, granting favours to friends and family
while the ordinary people of Hungary have been suffering and starving.
Bánk bán - a bán was a provincial governor answerable to the king - has
been out fighting for his land while his family at home has been
humiliated, and that cuts deeper than mere jealousy or betrayal. It's
not a romantic rival that Bánk sets himself against, but a rival that
threatens the rule of his country. As Bánk puts it, his only wish is
that his "sacred homeland and good name remain unstained", but both are
suffering while he hesitates over what action to take. "A pall hangs
over my country and my honour is gone".
His big aria
where he steels his resolve ends with the emotional declaration "It's
beautiful to live and die for you, my sacred home, Hungary!" It doesn't
get any more direct than that in terms of recognising where his true
priorities lie, or rather the wonder and greatness of Bánk bán is that does actually does get even more direct than that. Having been driven to such
lengths - the music and dramatic progress fully justifying his rage -
Bánk confronts the queen in one of the most charged episodes I've
experienced in any opera. Just for the gravity of the situation, for
the impertinence of Bánk ban threatening to usurp the throne for the
sake of the suffering people of his land, for the defiant stance of
Gertrud before he actually kills her, aware of the consequences, it's a
stunning scene.
The opera doesn't leave it there of
course, but it also has the terrible fate of Melinda to consider, it has
the king's rage to contend with, there are stirrings of rebellion that
have been given voice by Bánk's actions, the people fed up with the
abuses of the Meranians, and all of these scenes are given great musical
and dramatic drive. They are performed as such also by the cast with
the principal cast all demonstrating the kind of commitment and passion
that is usually reserved for only the most sacred devotions, and well,
what is a national opera but a kind of sacred art, and who else but the
composer of Hungary's national anthem to bring it to those heights?
Attila
Vidnyánszky's production of Bánk bán for the Hungarian State Opera in Budapest is
excellent, if a little rough around the edges. The set designs by
Oleksandr Bilozub strike a good balance between semi-period recreation
of the costumes and more modern presentation in terms of using platforms
and screens. A platform extends the stage out around the orchestra to
give additional space for movement, but also to relate the drama more
closely with the music and bring it all closer to the audience. Some of
the blocking and choreography is a little random and awkward in places,
as if performers have been left to fend for themselves, particularly
with the entrances and exits. It's wonderfully atmospheric however,
capturing all the passion, charge and drama that conductor Balázs Kocsár
brings out of the orchestra.
Links: Hungarian State Opera, OperaVision
Giacomo Puccini - Madama Butterfly
Royal Opera House, London - 2017
Antonio
Pappano, Moshe Leiser, Patrice Caurier, Ermolela Jaho, Marcelo Puente,
Scott Hendricks, Elizabeth Deshong, Carlo Bosi, Jeremy White, Yuriy
Yurchuk, Emily Edmonds
Opus Arte - Blu-ray
Straight
off I'm sure you can think of two good reasons why you would want to watch yet
another version of Madama Butterfly, this one recorded at the Royal
Opera House in 2017. The first reason is that it's conducted by Antonio Pappano, who has delivered some sublime performances of Puccini at
Covent Garden. The second is Ermonela Jaho and again it's primarily for
her Puccini, first really coming to attention of the London audience in
Suor Angelica. There's a third reason obviously, which is the opera
itself which is sure to have a compelling charge with this combination
of artists.
As it happens you won't be disappointed or
let down by any of those expectations. What is rarer, and which you
might not see at the Royal Opera House production nor expect to see, is a
production that successfully explores the work in any new way or adapts
its themes. No matter what else a director brings to Madama Butterfly
it simply has to deliver on colour, spectacle and exoticism above all
else. Much like Richard Jones' recent refresh of the Royal Opera
House's La Bohème, Moshe Leiser and Patrice Caurier keep this production
relatively traditional but hopefully not too familiar, allowing it to be
adaptable to the tone and themes of the work rather than simply providing pretty picture postcard imagery.
The
house that Pinkerton purchases for his new Japanese bride then retains
the familiar paper panelled walls of a traditional Japanese house, but
they are oversized screens that when raised offer different views and
backgrounds. Initially we have a period photo view of Nagasaki when
Pinkerton arrives, a cherry blossom and rolling hills in a Japanese
painting for Cio-Cio-San's arrival that has the same stylised feel as
the Royal Opera House's Turandot, making it look like the ROH are aiming
for a middle-of-the-road consistent style in their Puccini operas (and
perhaps elsewhere).
The production retains the
familiarity of the location, keeps the costumes traditional and sticks to
the themes of culture clash and romantic ideals. The
background representation and lighting however become a little more
abstractly tied to the emotional undercurrents as the opera progresses.
The background goes black for the stormy arrival of the Bonze and Kate
Pinkerton first appears as an ominous shadow silhouetted against the
screens outside. The end of Butterfly's dreams is accompanied by the
falling blooms of a magnolia, again against a death black background.
As
expected then Ermonela Jaho's performance is worth seeing. She
doesn't always have the fullness of voice that you need for the role,
but there's some lovely singing here, true passion and a strong dramatic
performance, all of which combined succeed in hitting you where it
hurts. Pappano is equally adept turning it on and holding back at all
the right places, showing us the cracks beneath the gloss as Butterfly's
ideal surrenders to the reality. And regardless of whether the story
may be manipulative, there is a heightened emotional realism of the
passions in Madama Butterfly that Puccini succeeds in delivering and
which the production at least attempts to emulate.
Since
we are enumerating good reasons why this particular production is worth
watching, the next on the list would be Elizabeth Deshong. No slight on
Marcelo Puente who sings Pinkerton well even though he's
characterisation here is a little non-committal, but it's Elizabeth Deshong's Suzuki who really impresses, expressing everything that
Cio-Cio-San is unable or unwilling to recognise and making it just as
heartfelt as those revelations that eventually reach her mistress.
Scott Hendricks - ouch! - is sadly well out of his comfort zone as
Sharpless and it does unfortunately present a rather jarring effect in
the scenes in which he appears. Carlo Bosi on the other hand is an
experienced Goro, but - perhaps like the production as a whole - it's
all too familiar to really allow any nuance or newness to creep in.
On
Blu-ray, Madama Butterfly is a treat for the quality of the visual
presentation, not least for how the lossless high resolution audio
tracks allow the listener to appreciate the detail of the composition
and the quality and dynamism of the musical performance. Extras include
an Introduction to the opera, Pappano and Jaho in rehearsal and a Cast
Gallery. Helen Greenwald recounts the history of the work's
composition, its dramatic inspiration and its oriental musical
influences, as well as the now familiar account of the catastrophic
reception of the work at its premiere at La Scala in Milan.
Links: Royal Opera House
Stephen Sondheim - Sweeney Todd, The Demon Barber of Fleet Street
Northern Ireland Opera & Lyric Theatre, 2019
Walter
Sutcliffe, Sinead Hayes, Steven Page, Julie Mullins, John Porter,
Anthony Hope, Jessica Hackett, Jack Wolfe, Mark O'Regan, Richard
Croxford, Elaine Hearty, Matthew Cavan, Dawn Burns, Christopher Cull,
Enda Kilroy, Jolene O'Hara, Tommy Wallace
The Lyric Theatre, Belfast - 3rd February 2019
I'm
facing a bit of a dilemma here, since Stephen Sondheim's Sweeney Todd
doesn't really belong in an opera blog, or at least not in my personal
definition of an opera blog (which is a blogger's prerogative of course),
but this is a co-production of Northern Ireland Opera with the Lyric
Theatre in Belfast and I've been closely following pretty much every NI Opera production since its inauguration in 2011. Which makes the
dilemma two-fold; it's not just a question of what should be covered in
this blog, but also how to give credit where credit is due. If I were
to review this for another outlet this would undoubtedly be a more
positive review of a very competent, well-performed and
entertaining music theatre production. As an NI Opera production however, this is fairly vapid material that falls far below what we have come to expect.
I've no doubt that there
are practical and financial considerations that have to be taken into
account, and I'm sure I couldn't underestimate to the kind of
compromises have to be made and the practical decisions that have to be
faced by any arts funded company. I can imagine however that serious
consideration needs to be made between the viability of putting on what
might appear to be an elitist obscure opera for a couple of nights to a
half-filled Grand Opera House and running a three-week sold out popular
show at the Lyric Theatre that will reach out to a younger if not
necessarily any more socially diverse audience. I realise that these
decisions have to be made, but it doesn't mean I have to like them.
Compromises
have to be made in Belfast as much as with the English National Opera
at the Coliseum in London; that's the economic reality in a time of
reduced funding for the arts. Walter Sutcliffe's first season as
director of NI Opera balanced that well however with a reduced season of
works that can have popular appeal to bring in new audiences but still
have artistic merit. On the one hand we had a fine production of Così Fan Tutte (not seen as often in Belfast as other Mozart operas) and a
Rigoletto of impressive singing, but also a successful co-production
between NI Opera and the Lyric Theatre of Brecht and Weill's The Threepenny Opera. It's rather dispiriting however this has been
downgraded this year to a line-up that consists only of a popular Sondheim musical, three performances with high ticket prices for an operetta (Die Fledermaus) and a formal dress gala concert for local big-wigs. Shockingly, Northern
Ireland Opera are not producing a single opera this year.
Perhaps
there are additional financial and boardroom pressures on Northern
Ireland Opera, but it's a bit of a come-down from Oliver Mears' more
open, diverse and adventurous tenure where we had the first ever fully staged Wagner in Belfast
(The Flying Dutchman), where Richard Strauss (Salome) was programmed
rather than Johann Strauss, where there were newly commissioned work
from local composers (NI Opera Shorts), where you could see a work as
boldly innovative and uproariously entertaining as Gerald Barry's The Importance of Being Earnest and where the cross-over works with local
theatre were by Benjamin Britten (The Turn of the Screw) and Thomas Adès
(Powder her Face). Bolder choices are also being made south of the
border by the newly formed Irish National Opera, most recently with Duke Bluebeard's Castle and an ambitious Aida. Thank heavens too for
Opera North's visits to Belfast.
A review of Sweeney Todd
therefore has no meaningful place here; the work itself has little
of substance or subtext, certainly not in the context of the above.
Full credit however to the team for making an effort to sell this as
something more interesting that it really is in the theatre programme.
In the programme a Queen's University lecturer considers the rights and
wrongs of a fictional character who takes revenge on society by
homicidal barbering and cannibalistic culinary, while an interview with
conductor Sinead Hayes points to certain operatic qualities,
complexities of leitmotif and dissonance in the musical composition.
The musical performance was certainly of the usual high standard from
the assembled musicians, and it was superbly paced and conducted
to bring all the colour and vigour out of the songs with wonderful
clarity and precision.
As a theatrical performance it also more than delivered. Regardless of musical tastes and definitions of what constitutes 'quality' or 'worthy' music, Sondheim comes alive
on the stage in live performance and it can even have a bit of an edge
(as with the recent Assassins at the Gate Theatre in Dublin - again,
more adventurous programming than Sweeney Todd). The combination of
music, lighting, colour, costume and (amplified) voices creates its own
magic just as effectively as any live opera production, and even at this
early preview stage in the run, the production was clearly
well-rehearsed and ran relatively smoothly, even with all the little
compartments and doors to be managed. Particular credit should be given
to Dorota Karolczak of the make-up and costume department for making
this look absolutely terrific.
The singing was of the
highest quality; Steven Page as Sweeney Todd, Julie Mullins as Mrs Lovett
and John Porter as Anthony Hope all superb singers who are equally as
good at characterisation. They were well-balanced alongside Jack Wolfe and
Jessica Hackett who give the kind of fresh-voiced delivery you want
from Tobias Ragg and Joanna, but there was little that about the
direction to bring anything original or exciting to give this a bit more
of an edge. Ultimately Sweeney Todd, The Demon Barber of Fleet Street
remains a Victorian Penny Dreadful horror tale that has nothing
realistic or relevant to say about life, justice or morality; it's just a
colourful treatment of a bland entertainment.
Only
Matthew Cavan managed to really bring some spirited individuality and
unpredictability to the production (as he did also in The Threepenny Opera) as the outrageous Signor Pirelli. If Belfast's great pantomime
dame May McFettridge ever calls it a day (heaven forbid!), we have a potential
replacement here. I mean that as the highest compliment to the Belfast
stage, but unfortunately it's not much of a compliment for Northern
Ireland Opera.
Links: Northern Ireland Opera, Lyric Theatre Belfast
