Zemlinsky - Eine florentinische Tragödie, Bartók - Duke Bluebeard's Castle (Vienna, 2026)

Alexander von Zemlinsky - Eine florentinische Tragödie 
Béla Bartók - Duke Bluebeard's Castle

Wiener Staatsoper, 2026

Alain Altinoglu, Vasily Barkhatov, Asmik Grigorian, Florian Boesch, Christopher Maltman

Wiener Staatsoper livestream - 10th October 2026

The scandal surrounding Oscar Wilde's trial, imprisonment and death meant that his name was not spoken about in polite British society at the beginning of the 20th century, but the European attitude towards the writer was clearly very different. Wilde was still popular with the dramatists and composers in Europe, where his work continued to be translated and performed. The most notable adaptation - and still one of the boldest - is of course Richard Strauss's Salome - the composer finding within that play a dark decadence that was in tune with the times. Alexander von Zemlinsky chose a different side of Wilde for his two short operas; Der Zwerg based on the fairy tale 'The Birthday of the Infanta' and Eine florentinische Tragödie from the play 'A Florentine Tragedy'. There is nothing in Wilde's other work quite like Salome, but you can find the same sensibility of dark decadence also permeates his other writing in a way that clearly appealed to European composers interested in developments in modern psychology, human behaviour and new ways of viewing the world at the beginning of the 20th century.

The aspects and the insights that drew Zemlinsky to the tale in relation to human behaviour remain interesting and worth continuing to develop and explore, and that means that there is a subtle but significant change in the relationship between the three characters involved in this Vienna State Opera production of Eine florentinische Tragödie as a domestic drama. Domestic suggests perhaps, dull, common, gritty and real world, but there is no getting away from the fact that the short opera is adapted from an unfinished play by Oscar Wilde, and unlike his more famous satirical plays of Victorian manners, class and society, this work has the same flowing flowery imagery as his Salome. The floweriness of course is just a cover for a deeper expressions of intent than is visible in the surface exchanges.

All the more so in the nature of the dialogue exchanged between the two men when Simone (Christopher Maltman) returns home from his work as a travelling salesman to find another man in his house with his wife Bianca (Asmik Grigorian). In a subtle change, somewhat necessary to remove the class satire and period mannerism of the original, Guido Bardi (Florian Boesch) is not a prince here but a psychologist who is advising Bianca on her marriage difficulties. Using the situation to express himself in a polite subtle manner that nonetheless leaves little doubt about his actual displeasure (this mincing with words is catching), Simone brings out his wares pretending to assume that since the unwelcome guest clearly isn't a relative, he must surely be there to examine his goods (see what I did there?).

Just to emphasise what is being said beneath all the fine expressions, suggestive passive-aggressive behaviour mixed in with salesman patter, Simone whips out his wife's wedding dress and his own wedding tuxedo, alluding (no need to be too subtle) that these are the goods that Guido is really after (just thought I'd make that clear). Just as capable of making his own position clear while dressing it up in fine language, Guido boasts that he is willing to pay double the price, to which Simone makes a counter-offer that suggests that since they are spoiled goods and not worth the price, he will offer him a cut price reduction and a split of any profit. As this rate it is not long before the two men really get to the heart of the matter.

And all this is relished by Zemlinsky. The musical arrangement of Eine florentinische Tragödie is accordingly lush and florid, highlighting the barbs and threats in the undercurrents. Simone is given freedom to express himself in grand declamations and Christopher Maltman, a fine actor and singer, makes the most of that here. Women don't have as much of a place amidst all this macho chest-beating, and as such - despite being the centre of attention - Asmik Grigorian as Bianca has little presence; a plaything bartered between the two men. Their reputation and keeping up appearances is more important than any woman. It's a playful and brilliant work, if not greatly revealing nor as revolutionary as Salome, even if it takes a darker turn in this Vienna production directed by Vasily Barkhatov.

As is often the case two different works are paired, there is however another unexpected resonance introduced when Béla Bartók's Duke Bluebeard's Castle takes over, picking up from where A Florentine Tragedy left off. That sentence on its own is meaningless of course as the two works have little in common and were never meant to work side-by side together. What has been established in this production however is the idea of the psychological drama - or psychodrama in today's parlance - complete with psychiatrist in A Florentine Tradegy; and Duke Bluebeard's Castle is nothing if not a psychological drama. As has often been noted before, the opening of the seven doors of Bluebeard's castle can be seen to clearly represent a horrific delve into the deepest darkest and most unpleasant recesses of the human mind.

Accordingly, having (presumably) play-acted the murder of 'Guido' at the end of A Florentine Tragedy - as the spoken introduction to this opera notes - "The story is old, but did it happen or did it not?" - Judith now picks up the notebook and glasses and starts the therapy session with "Ah, I see seven great shut doorways, Seven doors all barred and bolted". It's time to get into the mind of a serial killer or at least someone who harbours a serious potential for dark violence. Here however there is a difference or ambiguity implied in perception and role as the story takes a Lynchian turn down a Lost Highway of overlapping dreams and reality. And in doing so it causes a need for a reflection on what took place back in A Florentine Tragedy.

The production set design remains the same then, but it needs a little more than that: it needs a touch of gothic horror quality and those do indeed bleed (an apt choice of words) into the luxury apartment-showroom-lounge-psychiatrist's office. With a suitable use of lighting and projections, the production design transforms the set into something much darker, finding interesting parallels and correspondences between the treasures and horrors of Duke Bluebeard's rooms and the workings of a tortured mind with a dark past.

And in doing so, it transforms the nature of the woman, Judith. This is no incautious naive young woman seeking to understand the mysteries of her new husband's shocking and colourful past. As an amateur psychologist, this Judith is prepared to fight to get to the truth - or get him to confront the truth - believing that it is all better out in the open and that healing can come from it. Indeed in a surprising twist, it's not Bluebeard's barred doors of the mind that she seeks to break down as much as her own. He is rather is protective of Judith here, unwilling to send her down a path that it is suggested perhaps once resulted in a nervous breakdown; an event that seems to have led to the breakdown of the marriage. This Bluebeard is someone who tries to keep her from the truth that they have both tried to bury.

Perhaps even more so than more traditional versions - as if there are ever any of those - there is a real sense of trepidation at what Judith is going to discover behind the seventh door, but also a feeling that it delves into the subject far more profoundly and meaningfully. It's clever, but it is also illuminating and truthful of the dark places that the mind can go to, as torturous as any medieval torture room and its victims in a gothic castle. It leads to an unexpectedly touching conclusion, with Alain Altinoglu drawing all the power and dramatic sweep out of the musical arrangements and terrific singing from the three principals, Asmik Grigorian in particular often reduced to wearing underwear, physically, metaphorically and psychologically stripped down.

External links: Wiener Staatsoper, Wiener Stastsoper Live

Feldman - Solo Piano (Belfast, 2026)

Morton Feldman - Solo Piano

Queen's University Belfast, 2026

Extensions 3 (1952, 6')
Intermission 6 (1953, 8')
Palais de Mari (1986, 24')

Ian Wilson - piano

The Harty Room, Music Building, QUB - 5th November 2026

On the centenary of the birth of Morton Feldman, it's worth reflecting on the distinctive contribution he has made to contemporary music, and the part he played in changing the music of the 20th century. While some of his later works like Coptic Light and Rothko Chapel are still revered and recognised as being important works, the more profound influence of Feldman into the 21st century is in how he, along with similar experimental composers like John Cage, helped forge a new way of exploring and understanding on a deeper level what music is, changing the way we listen to it and giving composers a much greater scope to take those explorations further.

Being born in the same year as Miles Davis and John Coltrane - two other major musicians and composers who were similarly experimental and influential in stretching musical boundaries from a jazz perspective - and coming while concert halls are gearing up for a season to celebrate the 200th anniversary of Beethoven's death - Feldman's work hasn't really had a look-in and an opportunity missed to re-examine his work and its importance. The three pieces chosen by Irish composer Ian Wilson for a solo piano performance at Queen's University in Belfast however give a broad indication of some of the ground that Morton Feldman covered in his lifetime, from the quiet, sparse early pieces to his quieter, sparser later pieces. If that doesn't sound like there has been a great deal of progress, the nature of the pieces speak for themselves.

The two earlier works, Extensions 3 (1952) and Intermission 6 (1953) are pieces that are experimental with the form and in how the piano is used as an instrument. Without going down the treated or prepared piano route, each of the pieces are concerned with the placement and weight of notes, the time intervals at which they are played and the length of the notes, allowing them to have room to be themselves, to let them be heard almost in isolation or in repeated pairs. It's not that the sequence of notes that come before or the notes that follow have no relationship to each other but rather the relationship is made more noticeable - often forcing you to reflect on why certain choices are made - when each note has been given its place.

Intermission 6 is even more experimental in its compositional quality and the exploration of indeterminacy in Feldman's work, in that it doesn't even specify which notes are to be played, but places the emphasis on the weight and duration of the note, leaving it up to then performer (in this case a composer) to 'write' the work for himself within the space that Feldman has provided. It very much changes the whole way of looking at what music is, what is the role of a composer and the nature of interpretation, in many ways freeing the music and the performer, while still remaining wholly within a Feldman sound world.

That idea of music occupying space and time is very much more in the nature of the composer's later works. Palais de Mari (1986) is a longer work, but genuinely feels much shorter than it is and at the same time longer. What I mean by that is that you don't feel that the music progresses a great deal over its 24 minutes duration between the beginning and the end. Somehow because of this, it doesn't feel as long as it is, but on the other hand, it remains with you long after you leave the hall, still resonating. While the same characteristics we associate with Feldman's music are there - the length of notes and the space around them allowing you time to focus on and hear the relationship between the notes as the piece develops - the focus becomes more on establishing a mood and a meditative quality.

Is it wrong to hear in your head the notes that aren’t played when you listen to a Morton Feldman piece? Feldman clearly has refined Palais de Mari down to the absolute minimum required for it to fulfil its own needs as a complete composition, and it certainly doesn't need any additional 'flourishes' or stylistic interpretation from the performer. Ian Wilson's playing, I should add, retained of course that unadorned purity and precise intonation of the Feldman sound. I guess if you feel the need to "fill it out" in your own mind well, that is a personal matter for the listener. What is probably more essential is that you allow the music in and Feldman gives you everything that is needed here, nothing more and nothing less.

External links: Queen's University Belfast, Ian Wilson

Mascagni - Iris (Wexford, 2026)

Pietro Mascagni - Iris

Wexford Festival Opera, 2026

Francesco Cilluffo, Rosetta Cucchi, Leyla Gu, Joseph Calleja, Jihoon Kim, Jolyon Loy, Hannah O'Brien, Yu Shao, Meilir Jones, Joshua Baxter

O'Reilly Theatre, National Opera House, Wexford - 23rd October 2026

Innovation in opera reached its pinnacle at the end of the 19th century in the works of Wagner and Verdi, both composers now elevated to a pantheon that has only a few close 'successors'. I would of course propose that there are still bold new directions being explored in contemporary opera, but let's go with that opening statement for the sake of argument. Both those titans left quite a challenge for their successors but there is little question that while Strauss and Puccini deserve to be viewed as greats, it was more of a case that they built on the legacy of their predecessors rather than come from or move towards any new direction in their respective German and Italian opera traditions (Strauss's bold developments in Salome and Elektra notwithstanding). For a number of reasons, not least because of Europe becoming consumed by two world wars and a move in music towards Modernism which held different values, many of the suggested new directions were lost and forgotten, resulting in the works of many opera composers of this time being relegated to little more than late 19th/early 20th century footnotes. 

The Wexford Festival Opera, over their 75 year history have done much to bring such lost, neglected and forgotten works back to the stage. That covers the whole history of opera, the festival specialising in revivals of rare bel canto operas, the occasional neglected Irish composer and even recent works that have perhaps not had the opportunity to be widely heard - many deserving of being revisited and reassessed - but have also done much to resurrect many such works by the unjustly neglected school of verismo that arose in Italy around this troubled period of the first half of the 20th century. Neglected to such an extent that nearly all of the verismo composers are now only known for those works - and only one - associated with that style, while in fact revivals have proven that the so-called verismo writers were actually more varied and experimental in their operas. Case in point is the opera revived to headline Wexford’s 75th anniversary programme; Pietro Mascagni’s Iris.

Mascagni's "one-hit-wonder" as far as the opera world today is concerned is indeed an opera that is seen as the epitome of verismo, Cavalleria rusticana, but Wexford recently showed another side of the composer's work with his personal take on commedia dell'arte archetypes in Le Maschere in 2024. First performed in 1898, Iris reveals yet another side to the composer's work. It is certainly hard-hitting, but it is as far away from verismo realism as it is possible to imagine, taking inspiration rather from Symbolist writing and the new European fascination by all things oriental. There is little conventional narrative (or little of plot) in Iris, but the nature of the storyline is clear and enhanced by the score. Neither try to merely relate a story but rather delve into the essence of good and evil. Essentially a young Japanese woman is abducted away from her blind father, seduced into a group of travelling players of geishas and acrobats by two evil people: one who wants her to submit to his desires, the other who has plans thereafter to keep her as an attraction in his brothel.

Rather than act as a kind of soundtrack, the music, chorus and singing all set out to evoke the mood and enhanced imagery of this situation; the nature of innocence and seduction; a world of lies and deceit; a swirl of enchantment that the young woman is unable to resist. An attempt to move away from lyric drama into a more impressionistic use of music is certainly ambitious - or not so much impressionistic, as that suggests Debussy, but perhaps it could be better described as expressionistic. It is certainly moving the music on beyond just providing an emotional background or support lifting what is being sung, but actually taking on a role of the swirl of conflicting desires and psychological undercurrents that are in conflict with conscious and unconscious desires.

Or at least I assume that was the intention. In practice, despite a quite simply stunning production directed by the Wexford Festival Opera's Artistic Director, Rosetta Cucchi, the work seems thin on content and dubious in its message. I think the fact that it worked at all and worked as well as it did was down to the efforts of the production team, the orchestra, the chorus and the singing. It not only gave full expression to the work, it fairly hammered every sentiment home while studiously avoiding any of the darker aspects of the work. The brothel, for example, was a golden cage, and Iris's undoubtedly brutal treatment at the hands of Osaka and Kyoto was softened at every turn. Her father's arrival, believing his daughter to have run off into a world of sin and pelting her with mud, was represented by him destroying her imaginary protective doll's house; while the young woman's plunge to her death into a rubbish pit at the shame of it all was depicted as being borne aloft, enwrapped in arms and lowered gently down into the ground.

I can see the merit and rationale in this. While the subject is harsh in its depiction of Iris's fate, the work is indeed far from realism, or at least strives to move beyond verismo realism and find a new way to present the horrors of the world. Musically it doesn't succeed, at least not on those terms. There is no Debussyan mystery and ambiguity here. As if to make up for the obliqueness of the plot and Luigi Illica's treatment of the libretto, the music is hugely dramatic, more than a little bombastic, but essentially loud and heavily underscoring. I wouldn't suggest that Francesco Cilluffo's musical direction was heavy-handed: on its own terms Mascagni's score is powerful and effective, the Hymn to the Sun chorus a masterstroke that when reprised at the conclusion is guaranteed to leave not a dry eye in the house. But it feels disingenuous, manipulative, seeking to profit from the fate of the young woman.

Perhaps recognising that there are enough horrors in the world today for women without depicting them graphically on the stage, Rosetta Cucchi makes every effort to reposition the focus and balance it out, but in doing almost cancels it out. As if it is all too much for Iris to contemplate, the young woman incapable of even seeing the ugliness of the world, Cucchi gives us the viewpoint of an innocent, taking it away from the horror in the process making her death something glorious and celebratory. It's a celebration of innocence martyred, refusing to submit to the horrors and injustices of the world, believing in the supremacy of purity and innocence. That is a fine sentiment, but it is completely out of touch with and doesn't engage with reality. The opera’s sugar-coated treatment invites this notion and even the beautifully staged conclusion has Iris ascending to the heavens leaving colourful wild flowers to bloom out of the rubbish tip.

There is no question that the Wexford team throw everything at the stage production in an effort to bring Mascagni's work fully to life; Tiziano Santi's impressive visuals, acrobats, dancers, puppeteers are all impressive. As was the casting. It was tremendous to see Joseph Calleja on the Wexford stage in a full opera production, but I thought he lacked smoothness and legato, and sounded occasionally pushed. That distinctive classic tenor timbre is still there however and ideal for this kind of role, Calleja successfully carrying a edge of menace that the production as a whole seemed to be striving to soften. Leyla Gu was exceptional as Iris; this was an outstanding performance, a challenging role not just to sing, but to imbue with the spirit of innocence, an ideal more than any kind of real person of psychological depth. Whether that characterisation is misguided or not, it's what the opera demands and there was no doubting the conviction of this performance. The performances of Jihoon Kim as Iris's father Il Cieco and Jolyon Loy as Kyoto were also worthy of mention.

I would say that any problems with the opera are purely down to personal perception on the value of the approach adopted by the composer for the work. In terms of its treatment and performance it was nothing less than exceptional: Wexford threw all the talent behind it in a striking production that certainly made an impression. It is a fascinating work, one definitely worth reviving for the opportunity to hear a Mascagni opera that is not Cavalleria rusticana (a work nonetheless that merits its standing as the composer's masterpiece), one that genuinely is striving to take opera in a new direction. It doesn't quite succeed and actually feels misguided, but despite reservations about what kind of message it seeks to put across, Iris is certainly not a work that will leave anyone indifferent.

The Wexford production of Mascagni's Iris can be currently be viewed from the RTE Lyric FM site.

External links: Wexford Festival Opera, RTE Lyric FM Streaming

Stanford - Much Ado About Nothing (Wexford, 2026)

Charles Villiers Stanford - Much Ado About Nothing

Wexford Festival Opera, 2026

Christopher Knopp, Aoife Spillane-Hinks, Charlotte Baker, Ross Cumming, Victoria Harley, Joshua Baxter, Alexander Semple, Meilir Jones, Maximilian Catalano, Wonsick Oh, Euan McDonald, Rhys Meilyr

Jerome Hynes Theatre, National Opera House, Wexford - 23rd October 2026

I can't really say I've heard enough Charles Villiers Stanford to make up my mind about the merit and relevance of his work today. It's only at Wexford where I've had the opportunity to see any of his operas performed, and Wexford is probably the only place making an effort to make his works known nowadays. I liked the period flavoured exoticism of The Veiled Prophet and was less enamoured than the rest of the audience and critics at the Wexford 2024 production of The Critic, despite its impressive staging. I'm still not sure where in stand on Stanford after seeing their Pocket Opera version of Much Ado About Nothing, but there is no question that, even in reduced form, Wexford's continued efforts to keep the composer's works in the public eye get the best possible presentation.

What is clear from those operas is that Stanford knew how to choose solid dramatic works from notable literary sources. Some, like Stanford himself, might seem a little dated by today's standards - Richard Brinsley Sheridan ('The Critic') and Thomas Moore ('Lalla Rookh' for The Veiled Prophet), but there is no question they provide a solid construction and a rich vein of themes to set to music. And, well, as far as Much Ado About Nothing is concerned, obviously sources for opera don't come much more notable and timeless than Shakespeare. Adapting Shakespeare to opera has its own challenges of course, but Much Ado About Nothing fares better than most with its broad comedy jostling alongside some heavy themes on love, trust and justice.

The challenge is not inconsiderable because the dark cruelty of the heartless scheming, lying, cheating and imprecations to murder sit side-by-side with bumbling detectives and a confected romance between Beatrice and Benedick that almost sets the template - and high standard - for every romantic comedy since. While both are given equal weight, there is always the risk of one element dominating over the other, but that's a decision and a challenge for a director to take. There is definitely a balance to be maintained, not letting the Beatrice and Benedick comedy sparring impact on the intense emotional turmoil that moves the other characters involved in the Hero and Claudio part of the plot. If the balance is well maintained and combined, it reveals a deeper side to the characters and human nature than it might otherwise as a straight drama or a straight comedy. 

Shakespeare provides the source material that allows that to work remarkably well in the hands of a good director, but there is still a challenge is translating that over into operatic terms and another in the judicious choice of further cuts to make in a 'Pocket Opera' version of the opera. While it is difficult to judge how effectively Stanford's score measures up to the challenge from a reduction of it to solo piano, it moves along along well in dramatic and musical terms here under the musical direction of Christopher Knopp. Compressed into 80 minutes it fairly motors along thanks to those wonderful characters and their well-defined natures (with a bit of cartoon villainy thrown in for good measure), neither wasting nor omitting any important development.

Good direction plays a part in that and Aoife Spillane-Hinks sets the tone well and makes good choices in how to play it. The set (Lisa Krügel again) is well-designed to provide a suitable setting for each of the scenes from the aborted wedding to the mock funeral with everything in between; hidden places for eavesdropping and interrogation are included and it all takes place in the large well-managed garden. With the characters in suits and formal gowns - the more modern dress of nobility - it does resemble Joss Whedon’s fine 2012 movie version of Shakespeare's play filmed at his own home, but this one is handsomely decorated and designed in its own right for the purposes of Stanford’s operatic playing.

I didn't think anyone could more outrageously fall under the spell of love after proclaiming loudly his unwavering commitment to bachelorhood and his dislike of Beatrice than Alexis Denisof in that movie version, but Ross Cumming gives him a run for his money and has the benefit of having charged arias to deliver and the voice to carry them. Inevitably, despite their antics being somewhat curtailed by the necessity of concision, his blustering Benedick and Charlotte Baker's radiant Beatrice - suitably slightly more coy and flirtatious to bring that balance to their tempestuous relationship - come out on top, both keeping the show on the road and never letting it get too heavy.

That said, there was suitable gravity from Joshua Baxter’s Claudio: you almost felt sorry for him being deceived by everyone, despite the harshness/cruelty of his behaviour towards Hero. There are clearly challenging arias for the soprano in this Stanford version, but a purity of voice is what carries the role and Victoria Harley had that. Alexander Semple had great presence and a fine baritone voice as Don Pedro, and Wonsick Oh displayed a wide range between the Friar and the comic turn as Dogberry, but the whole cast played their part in the rich colour of the drama and musical treatment, performed here with a smooth lightness of touch on the piano by Christopher Knopp.

This was a very entertaining and enjoyable production. There really wasn't a misstep anywhere and not a moment when your attention wandered. I can't say it makes me want to listen to more Charles Villiers Stanford, although I am intrigued by any composer who has taken on Wagnerian influence and who demonstrated a fine choice of subjects and authors for his operas, but as long as Wexford keep producing his works and keep treating them with this much care and attention, I'll follow them with interest.

External links: Wexford Festival Opera

Prokofiev - The Gambler (Wexford, 2026)

Sergei Prokofiev - The Gambler

Wexford Festival Opera, 2026

Valentin Uryupin, Ivan Popovsky, Igor Onishchenko, Sophie Gordeladze, Alexei Botnarciuc, Hilary Ginther, Gavan Ring, Rory Musgrave, Clarry Bartha, Seán Tester, Ross Cumming, Wonsick Oh, Olga Conway

O'Reilly Theatre, National Opera House, Wexford - 22nd October 2026

In terms of the general overall theme of the three main stage operas at the Wexford Festival Opera's celebratory 75th anniversary programme as "one for the heart, one for the head and one for fun", Prokofiev's The Gambler is the "one for the head", but I think it's really one for the heart. The head doesn't enter into it when you are dealing with the Russian character as described in Dostoevsky's short novel, nor does it in Prokofiev's stunning translation of it into an exceptional opera. Admittedly though, it's hard to know where the heart lies in it either, except for the fact that it is passionate on every level. 

The word 'passion' is barely sufficient though, as the subject and its treatment go far beyond that. I'm sure there must be a Russian word for it or maybe a German one. Passion in Russian terms (in at least as far as my reading of the 19th century Russian masters is concerned) is more of obsession; an irrational obsession that pushes the individual to their limits and on a road to self-destruction. Russian art and literature is littered with the corpses of its romantic heroes, and they are not just fictional constructs either. Count Leo Tolstoy lived a life of privileged dissolution before his redemption, Tchaikovsky's life is mirrored in the solitary fate of Eugene Onegin, and Pushkin - the author of that work - consumed in scandal and debt himself, died in a tragic duel at a young age. Dostoevsky's life is filled with incident and horror, but he also felt the full force of the gambling addiction that afflicts Alexei and the General's family in his short novel, The Gambler.

In some ways you can also see the Russian nature of Prokofiev himself in this work or at least in how he identifies with and pours himself into the opera, driven to express the madness that possessed the character of Alexei. And not just Alexei, but the General, Polina and all the others - not least the Grandmother - as they all become consumed with gambling in the fictional German spa town casino of Roulettenberg, effectively gambling their lives against fate. The music evokes those wild irrational actions and behaviour in bold expression, in dissonance, Prokoviev constantly pushing at the edges of musical sanity. It's extraordinary, the only way to express such behaviours (although to be fair Tchaikovsky does it his own way no less effectively in Eugene Onegin and in The Queen of Spades). Prokofiev takes that kind of expression to an epic level in his War and Peace (1946), and an even wilder extreme in The Fiery Angel (1927), but here in this 1917 work, the musical language has a concentrated intensity.

The 2026 Wexford Festival Opera production directed by Ivan Popovsky does not seek to impose any revisionist or modern perspective on the work, but it is stylised in a way that seems closely related to the qualities of the work. It's not set in the original period and it's not set in the present day but in an abstract world of stark black and white in the set design and costumes. It's an expression of the nature of then work itself; there are no shades of grey here, everything is thrown out into the open, the passions - obsessions and madness - unrestrained; the naked greed, the soul of the Russian headlong rush to self-destruction laid bare. It's a matter of acceptance of that nature, not hiding it, submitting to the inner urge, the reckless idealism of abandoning oneself to the hands of fate no matter where it takes you.

So while Andrei is permanently on the edge of self-destruction, losing everything in the casino, betting everything on another turn of the roulette wheel, it's all with the aim of furthering another obsession to have wealth and be worthy of marrying the General's daughter Polina: it's just one obsession leading to another, or one obsession wrapped up in madness. The outcome is in the hands of fate, all that matters is throwing oneself into it without hesitation or caution. The General and the Marquis both have their own vices and they are depending on fate settling things with the General's Grandmother for them; expecting her ill health and apparently imminent death to provide them with an inheritance to pay off debts and arrange suitable marriages. Fate inevitably takes its own path, as Grandma turns up in Roulettenburg for literally one last throw of the dice.

The monochrome set enhances and reflects these extreme character and behaviour traits out into open display, never mind looking for undercurrents or subtexts. Act II however is content to push that even further ending before the interval with the surreal image of a dark blob oozing out of the casino and getting its grip on Grandma. There are plenty of other tricks in store in the second half's Act III and IV, including red and black ballet dancers spinning as a living roulette wheel and the walls of the set closing in to reflect the almost unbearable intensity of the emotions reaching a fever pitch that is matched in the acrobatics of the score.

You would expect there to be no holding back in the musical performance or the singing and that is evidently what you get in this stunning Wexford production. Prokofiev's score - like all his major operas - is a marvel. There is nothing that even hints of conventionality in its expressionist modernism that is restless, probing and revealing; a soundtrack of the Russian soul. The Wexford orchestra deliver an impressive musical performance under the direction of Valentin Uryupin, Prokofiev's score always keeping you on your toes, taking you by surprise at its twists, turns and crashes.

There is a remarkable performance from Igor Onishchenko here as Alexei. To say this is a challenging role is an understatement, although it's not as if the tenor has any choice in the matter of expression; there are few scenes when he is not on stage and singing at full tilt but Onishchenko - whose biographical notes reveal a high level of experience in all the major Russian operas - has a wonderful timbre and expressive lyrical quality, even in the most extreme edges of the range. 

Onishchenko is matched only by the equally exceptional Sophie Gordeladze as Polina, but really you have to share praise with all the cast, including Alexei Botnarciuc as the General, Hilary Ginther as Blanche, Clarry Bartha as Grandma, Gavan Ring as the Marquis and Rory Musgrave as Mr Astley. The latter two familiar Irish singers seemingly transformed and almost unrecognisable here. That above all demonstrated the essential quality displayed here, all performers clearly fully invested in their characters, in the expression of the opera’s intense treatment of the subject and working with the fine musical performance and stage direction that held it all together. This was a superb production on every level.

The Wexford production of Prokofiev's The Gambler can be currently be viewed from the RTE Lyric FM site.

External links: Wexford Festival Opera, RTE Lyric FM Streaming

Balfe - The Rose of Castille (Wexford, 2026)

Michael William Balfe - The Rose of Castille

Wexford Festival Opera, 2026

Rebecca Warren, Heather Hadrill, Eleri Gwilym, Erin Fflur, Myrna Tennant, Eamonn Walsh, Jonah Halton, Conor Cooper, Rory Musgrave, Peter McCamley

Jerome Hynes Theatre, Wexford - 22nd October 2026

Even if his works belong to another age and no longer merit main stage productions, Michael William Balfe has at least made has made a mark in the history of opera at Wexford, and indeed in literature. Referenced no less than in James Joyce's Ulysses, The Rose of Castille also has the distinction of being the very first opera shown at the Wexford Festival Opera in its opening season in 1951 as a tribute to the composer being one of their own, or at least spending part of childhood in Wexford. For the 75th anniversary programme, it seems fitting then that this particular work should at least be performed again as one of the side programme’s Pocket Operas.

Performed in that guise, you expect that you are going to have to make some allowances for a reduced piano version of the score, for a complicated 19th century opera plot of disguises and false identities that relies on coincidences, pretence and wilful ignorance, as well as suspension of any critical examination of probability on the part of the spectator. Even the notion of condensing the work, re-setting it in Spain of 1929 and introducing a journalist narrator to guide you through the complications and convolutions of the plot seems designed to make excuses for it, make it palatable for a modern audience, but in reality and in practice it's not required.

There is not a lot of point in getting too involved in a description of the mechanics of the plot of The Rose of Castille. It can in fact be easily summarised. For reasons of consolidating power between their two kingdoms, the King of Castille has arranged a marriage between his brother Don Sebastian and Elvira, Queen of León. Having got wind of a rumour that the prince is going to make a visit incognito to get a better look at the woman he is supposed to marry, Elvira also adopts a disguise as a peasant girl and, along with her attendant Donna Carmen (in disguise as a peasant boy), turns up at a rural inn where she encounters "Manuel, the Muleteer".

In the adapted Wexford Pocket Opera production this all takes place in 1929 with an investigative journalist following proceedings and pointing out to the audience exactly what is going on. Lest you think it's not that difficult to follow - or at least no more complicated than the typical opera 19th century opera plot of love affairs between rulers of kingdoms - inevitably it's about to get a little bit more complicated. This is an opera after all - the journalist reminds us - and inevitably Elvira and 'Manuel' fall in love with each other, at least one of them suspecting they know the true identity of the other: but you can never be sure. When he notices that the peasant girl bears an uncanny resemblance to the queen, the scheming Don Pedro, who also happens to have stumbled into this mad crossroads at the inn, asks the young woman to pretend to be the queen so that he can advance his plot to take power for himself. Are you keeping up?

When not even the characters are sure they are themselves or themselves pretending to be themselves, and when they are in love with someone who they should not be in love with who is actually the person they should be in love with, well, you can see where this is going. You should also be able to see that it's also set up to be a huge amount of fun: and it is. As convoluted as the plot might be, it is very well directed by Heather Hadrill to make sure you have a fairly good grasp of what is going on. There is a way to play this kind of opera and make it work and all the choices made here are excellent.

There is little value in trying to present it as closely as possible to the original, although the idea of revisiting it in terms of the historic first Wexford Festival Opera production in 1951 was considered only for the fact that it hardly matched the political regime in Spain of the time. Taking Balfe's light opera too seriously would have been a mistake, and making fun of its conventions too easy when it ought to be celebrating a work that is important to the festival's history. And by reviving it at all, there is an acknowledgement of its role in opera history. (The festival found another way to commemorate that occasion with a newly commissioned opera The First Festival by Colm Tóibín and Alberto Caruso - which unfortunately wasn't playing on the days I visited Wexford this year).

It's hard all the same not to fall back on cliché - the failings are all mine - when describing the production, the performances and the work. The most obvious words that comes to mind to describe the overall tone of the opera are 'sprightly' and 'sparkling'. Rebecca Warren's piano playing and musical direction were lively, launching into each number with a vigour that was matched by the enthusiasm of intent of the performers. The singing, particularly from Eleri Gwilym as Queen Elvira of Leon and Eamonn Walsh as Manuel in particular were excellent. Erin Fflur (Lady Gregory in Wexford 2024's Lady Gregory in America) was again very entertaining as Donna Carmen and Myrna Tennant a sweetly voiced Beatrix. You couldn't go wrong either with Wexford regular Rory Musgrave as Don Pedro, with his two henchmen (Jonah Halton and Conor Cooper) providing additional entertainment. The direction kept it interesting and amusing, the performers giving it their all, occasionally with a knowing edge - although that was mostly left to the framing device (an outstanding non-singing performance from Peter McCamley, another Wexford regular) - without ever making fun of it. The set design by Lisa Krügel and the movement choreography were excellent.

Not necessarily making allowances for more sophisticated modern tastes - the intervening years of major musical developments in opera can't be ignored by a modern audience - the qualities of The Rose of Castille are still clear and evident in the arrangements, the melodic qualities and the numbers. Yes, even the ridiculous plot. As an opportunity to experience a lesser known Balfe opera in an accessible form that presents it as the pure operatic entertainment that it is, this was an ideal production.

External links: Wexford Festival Opera

Rossini - L'equivoco stravagante (Wexford, 2026)

Gioachino Rossini - L'equivoco stravagante

Wexford Festival Opera, 2026

Riccardo Bisatti, Max Hoehn, Maria Barakova, Stefan Astakhov, Gurgen Baveyan, Sebastian Mach, Kelli-Ann Masterson, Carlos Natale

O'Reilly Theatre, National Opera House, Wexford - 21st October 2026

This year's theme for the Wexford Festival Opera was determined by it being a celebration of the 75th anniversary of the first festival that took place there in 1951. The very first opera performed at the festival was Michael William Balfe's The Rose of Castille, chosen in part to celebrate a composer who was associated with the town, having been born in Ireland and having lived part of his childhood in Wexford. That first night set the tone for subsequent programmes which became noted for their selection of lost, forgotten and rarely performed operas that deserved another shot at recognition. And indeed, as well as resurrecting works by lesser known Irish composers, the festival was instrumental in the rediscovery of many of the 19th century bel canto operas of Donizetti, Bellini and Rossini - many known only by name and historical records of their success and failure - and they have also specialised in reviving forgotten works by the Italian verismo composers.

With so many lost works from notable composers to choose from, I don't think from looking over the 75 years that there has been any repetition in the programming - which is frustrating to look on if you were not old enough to see many of those fascinating works performed there and, more than likely, never performed again anywhere else. For the 75th Anniversary programme then, the festival programmers chose three works previously performed at the festival for their main stage productions that few would ever have had the opportunity to see the first time around: Iris by Pietro Mascagni (last seen in Wexford in 1995), The Gambler by Sergei Prokofiev (last seen in 1973), and L'equivoco stravagante by Rossini (last seen in 1968), the idea being to choose a selection that represented "one for the heart, one for the head and one for fun".

L'equivoco stravagante wouldn't have been my first choice as an opera for fun - and indeed it wasn't, since Wexford actually gave their audience a choice, putting it out to a vote between three (against Paisello and Donizetti choices). It wasn't my first choice only because I have actually seen L'equivoco stravagante staged before, as one of the first rare operas I found streamed on the internet at the Opéra Royal de Wallonie, Liège, 2012. Up until then, the only Rossini you would ever see fully staged would have been The Barber of Seville and La Cenerentola, so seeing the huge catalogue of around 40 Rossini operas listed in books was always fascinating and it marked the beginning of an exciting period of discovery of many wonderful forgotten works by this composer. Now of course the composer's rarer works are all well catered for in new critical editions at the Rossini Opera Festival and democratically shared with the world on DVD. L'equivoco stravagante - first performed in Wexford in 1968 - was always likely to be the popular audience choice and you suspect it's probably the better work from the choices given, so it's certainly worth another look.

On an initial look however, there is not a great deal to get excited about. It certainly fulfils the remit of "one for fun" and as such there is no real point in digging any deeper into it, or indeed attempting to impose any modern re-interpretation upon it, even as it must be tempting to revisit its gender fluidity and gender reassignment themes in the light of the present day. As an early Rossini opera, L'equivoco stravagante however is very much as opera of its time, with references to castrati, with its standard plotting of an arranged marriage for a bookish young woman (called Ernestina of course) to a rich suitor, while the adoring penniless young man in love with her has nothing to offer but his devotion. There is however quite a bit more to it than first appears, and of course it has that familiar Rossinian touch - even though the composer was only nineteen years old at the time - to elevate it further.

The first act offers little other than standard routines with not a great deal of promise of anything wonderful to come in the second act. It never seems to take off or give you anything to engage with, but there are some compensations. The libretto is littered with malapropisms, suggestive imagery, double entendres and outright nonsense that is amusing in itself. It's enough to make you laugh at the nerve of the composer to date put this saucy plot before the censor, enough to raise a giggle or a snort of disbelief. (It was quickly shut down after just three performances in 1811).

It's given a little extra boost here in the Wexford production by the singing and acting performances. Ernestina's father Gamberotto (Stefan Astakhov) and the rich suitor Buralicchio (Gurgen Baveyan) play the absurdity up for all its worth, full of blustering pomposity on the part of the father and his surreal pronouncements, and the preening self-importance and unctuousness of the suitor flabbergasted at being rejected. Those two are balanced by a superb and engaging central performance from Maria Barakova as Ernestina, a confident young woman who might have more wisdom about the nature of love and sex gained from her reading than she lets on.

The production is attractively staged, the set designs by Darko Petrovic keeping it in period - or at least a theatrical style period with colourful costumes and imaginative sets using old-fashioned cut out board scenery with pulley and lever operations. The director Max Hoehn keeps it moving, as of course does Rossini, giving them little choice in the matter really. With little to really engage with in the plot, Rossini enlivens every number with overlapping singing, quartets, with pacing that builds up to grand flourishes that demand applause without really having any great qualities to merit it. Which sounds ungracious and it probably is, as there is great skill involved. Rossini makes a standard routine lively and holds your attention enough to see whether the second half can live up to the promise of the curious misunderstanding of the title that hasn't even really been so much as hinted at after almost an hour and a half of the first act.

And to be fair, it's so well-composed, paced and directed that the production makes short work of that first act. And if the second half doesn't really live up to the extravagant promise of its title, it at least delivers the goods just as effectively as in the first. There are no great revelations here in the drama, the silliness/fun of the plot or the singing, except in the case of the other principal player, Ermanno. Coming across as a little bland as a character through the necessity of the drama and characterisation - having little to offer Ernestina as a penniless young man pretending to be a tutor - Sebastian Mach seems himself transformed in the second act when he gains the love of Ernestina, delivering some fine singing and proving himself - and ultimately the opera - worthy of all its machinations.

You really couldn't have asked for more from the performances and the production as a whole. The music was given a lively musical account under the direction of Riccardo Bisatti, the singing was first-rate and each delivered fun performances that captured the spirit of the work. The set designs and costumes were attractive, keeping it all visually interesting even when there is nothing specifically demanded from the plot or libretto, introducing random little elements and moving everyone around just enough to enhance the situations. The chorus were great at enlivening other moments and even the secondary roles - Kelli-Ann Masterson as Rosalia and Carlos Natale as Frontino - all had a part to play in contributing to the whole, as they often to in Rossini. L'equivoco stravagante is no great marvel but it's wholly Rossini, which ensures at the very least an enjoyable evening at the opera.

The Wexford production of Rossini's L'equivoco stravagante can be currently be viewed from the RTE Lyric FM site.

External links: Wexford Festival Opera, RTE Lyric FM Streaming