Mozart - Mitridate, re di Ponto (Madrid, 2025)

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart - Mitridate, re di Ponto

Teatro Real, Madrid, 2025

Ivor Bolton, Claus Guth, Juan Francisco Gatell, Sara Blanch, Elsa Dreisig, Franco Fagioli, Marina Monzó, Juan Sancho, Franko Klisovic

OperaVision - 4th April 2025

There are limits to expression in 18th century opera seria, even for Mozart, who was only 14 years old when he wrote Mitridate, re di Ponto in 1770. Even with the long flowing arias where each of the figures pour out their hearts, it's within the context of generic feelings and expectations, the arias capable of being lifted and inserted seamlessly into other works; which was often the case, and borrowing is still common practice when rediscovering and recreating lost works of early opera. The main action tends to play out off-stage, only referred to in-between in the recitative, and in the case of Mitridate, re di Ponto - based on an Italian language adaptation of Racine's play Mitridate - the context is the war between Pompey's Roman army and King Mitridate of Pontus around 63BC.

Not that you'd get any real sense of that from Mozart's opera or the libretto written by Vittorio Amedeo Cigna-Santi. The events of the war remain in the background, the focus instead on the impact - or opportunity - that the war presents to the main characters of the opera. With King Mitridate believed to have been killed by Pompey, his sons Farnace and Sifare, both from different mothers, seek to consolidate their own position. Farnace, the elder, plans to seek an alliance with Rome, his only use of force being applied to his father's fiancée Aspasia to be his Queen. Sifare is in love with Aspasia, and the feelings are mutual. Mitridate however is not dead, the news of his death a ruse to find out the truth about his sons, and indeed his wife to be.

The plot then is somewhat contrived, but the purpose is indeed to contrive a situation where truth can be brought out into the open, where human feelings can be freely expressed, the war less important really than the rather even if it is merely in the context of domestic rivalry, jealousy and assertion of dominance. Essentially though, the opera is primarily an excuse or opportunity to give singers the opportunity to shine and show their range and talent, and there is a challenge - particularly in a modern production - to try to keep those emotional expressions within the realm of true human feelings. That's not easy considering the setting, the plot and the larger than life characters, but of course much depends on the inventiveness of the musical setting and that's perhaps easier to find in Mozart's music.

Mozart's early works of opera seria have languished along with many of his youthful works for this reason. Limited by the conventions of the style, there is little apart from the prodigious talent of the age of the composer to set them apart from other works of the period. Mozart would find ways to place his own stamp on the opera seria format as a mature composer in Idomeneo (1780) and advance it in La Clemenza di Tito (1791), but even the earlier works have echoes of the brilliance of those later works and that can be brought out by a sympathetic production.

Mitridate is not one of those great Mozart operas. Brilliant certainly, incredible as the work of a 14 year old composer, but to really appreciate its qualities, you need more than a static opera seria production, and you really need to pull it out of the historical period, which is little more than a pretext really for the human drama. You won't get a static production from Claus Guth, and you won't get robes and togas or ruined temples. The crux of the drama, needless to say, would be more familiar to a modern audience who has seen Succession. I haven't but I expect most people have, and as such they would immediately recognise the setting and the subsequent battle for wealth and power in Mitridate in the absence of love and respect.

The whole of the opera (or at least half of it) takes place in a modern 'palace', a luxurious mansion. I'm not even sure how much the average person could relate to this Succession-like situation as a common family drama - Guth includes a silent servant who looks on the whole affair disapprovingly - but, as has often been established through the history of opera, everyone is capable of experiencing and indeed denying human feelings. If the incestuous situation played out here between an ancient ruler of a kingdom and his sons and a conspiracy with one of them to side with Romans is not everyone’s experience, the sentiments of love, lust, jealousy, trust, betrayal, repentance and forgiveness are more familiar, and they can indeed lead to tragic outcomes.

That would be very much within the enlightened view of Mozart, certainly more so in his greater works, but Mitridate, re di Ponto gives the young composer an early opportunity to explore those sentiments. At this stage it's very much a male power-play, although the assignment of roles of the sons to alto castrato (Farnace) and soprano castrato (Sifare) makes that a little more ambiguous, certainly when cast now as countertenor and soprano trouser role. Aspasia, the Queen, certainly has little to show in the way of personality in the early stage of the opera other than resisting the aggressive advances of Farnace, seeking help of his brother Sifare, unaware that he has deep feelings for her. Wait until their father gets home. Believed dead after battle with Pompey hence his sons’ rather inappropriate advances on their prospective mother, Mitridate is actually alive and on his way, having faked his death so that he could observe the ambitions of his sons revealed.

While it seems a little shallow of purpose and characterisation, all these roles can be given greater depth with good singers and adequate direction. If you have that, it makes it much easier to see how much Mozart's music contributes to their definition and expression. You can't argue with the likes of countertenor Franco Fagioli as Farnace, and soprano Elsa Dreisig as Sifare. Both singers put a stamp on the personalities of the two sons even within the generic characterisation, and Mozart's musical description can be seen as contributing to that; blustering defiance and lust on the part of Farnace, guilty desire and wary lack of confidence on the part of Sifare. Even the music for Aspasia, as sung superbly here by Sara Blanch, shows the conflict that rages within her over the actions of the sons and the doubts about her feelings for Mitridate. The opera is blessed with such wonderful vocal writing for all the roles, with no bass, baritone or even mezzo-soprano roles. Juan Francisco Gatell fills the typical sweet high Mozartian tenor as Mitridate, Marina Monzó an impressive Ismene, and even the roles of Marzio (Juan Sancho) and Arbate (Franko Klisovic) have something to contribute in terms of range of voice and character. 

While the setting of the opera doesn't call out for any dramatic scene changes, director Claus Guth typically tries to delve a little more deeply the sentiments of the characters and relate them to the psychological impact that the situation has on them. The 'shadow side' of the opera takes place behind the living room in a colander-like environment and it's here that the characters mostly take their interior monologue arias where grapple with their feelings and fears. Mitridate, back from the 'dead', is shown dealing with his own mortality in his first scene with a double and black masked figures, and he struggles in a shadow play struggle with a double of his unfaithful son Farnace lusting after Aspasia. Sifare grapples with his feelings for multiple aspects of Aspasia being stolen by dark figures and Aspasia expresses her conflict between duty and love. Farnace, it appears, doesn't have a conscience; his demons haunt him in the 'real world'.

These elements don't really need such separation or elaboration, but it does at least make the opera a little more interesting visually and shows that the real drama takes place on a purely psychological level. Considering the solipsistic nature of the arias, with there being little direct confrontations or expression in this opera through duets or ensemble pieces - even 'conversations' feel one-sided - there is a good rationale for this. Guth however recognises that there is a gradual overlap between the interior and exterior worlds as the opera comes to a resolution as the characters gradually come to an accommodation with their inner lives and, remembering that this is supposed to be about a war-time situation, recognise the true enemy is Rome for the defiant ensemble finale. 

I haven't heard Ivor Bolton conducting for a while (the last time indeed was Idomeneo in 2019), and here as musical director at the Teatro Real, it's always a treat to hear him conduct works from the Classical and early Classical period with sensitivity and drive. You can easily get a little tired of the opera seria conventions and repetitions, but here Bolton never lets you forget that you are listening to the music of Mozart. If it's not always original, Mozart's music in Mitridate, re di Ponto feels well suited to every situation and does have those flashes of brilliance, rhythmic drive and dramatic intensity, but with a lightness of touch that offers hope for these unfortunate figures to escape from the darkness of their personal torments. Musical direction and stage direction successfully working then working hand-in-hand then with fine singing from the entire cast, this is surely all you want from an early Mozart opera.

External links: Teatro Real, OperaVision

Einem - Der Prozess (Vienna, 2024)

Gottfried von Einem - Der Prozess

Theater an der Wien, Kammeroper Wien, 2024

Walter Kobéra, Stefan Herheim, Robert Murray, Anne-Fleur Werner, Alexander Grassauer, Timothy Connor, Leo Mignonneau, Valentino Blasina, Lukas Karzel, Philipp Schöllhorn, Fabian Tobias Huster

OperaVision - 12th December 2024

Kafka’s The Trial has remained not just a prescient work that looks like a nightmare that is increasingly becoming a reality, but it's also a book that has always been extraordinarily observant of human behaviour and its relationship to laws, regulations and conformity. Looked at dispassionately, the everyday rules and modes of behaviour that we accept as normal are anything but, and are in fact often contrary to human nature, controlling and restrictive. It's hard to look at that dispassionately however and at least as far as Kafka’s worldview of the arrest of Josef K. is concerned in The Trial, it can be seen rather as either completely absurd or quietly but deeply threatening. Or, since Kafka cannot be reduced to such simple analysis, it can be all of the above and quite a bit more besides.

Particularly when it comes to how a director like Stefan Herheim chooses to represent Kafka when faced with Gottfried von Einem’s 1953 opera version of Der Prozess. One thing Kafka's work is, for all the truth of its observations, is non-naturalistic. It, or indeed its lead figure Josef K., embraces the absurdity of the situation and takes it to extremes. Whether it's Josef K. who is guilty for whatever it is he has or hasn't done, whether it's the 'system' that is absurdly complicated by obscure, unnecessarily complex and sometimes contradictory rules, it's all part of the equation or unspoken contract that the citizen enters into in a kind of dance down a path that leaves no room for rational thought or individual discretion.

Herheim, in his usual metatheatrical way, take in the opera itself as means of showing the characters entering into a tightly choreographed predetermined progress through the drama. Set in Salzburg, presumably as the composer was Austrian, Josef K. - looking remarkably like the older white bearded and shock haired Gottfried von Einem - awakes to read in a book (presumably The Trial) and wonders why his normal routine has been disturbed, expecting - so the book says - that he expects to have his breakfast brought to him. This comes to the amusement of those, looking like younger replicas of himself, who have come to arrest him.

The indication - if you didn't know to expect this of director Stefan Herheim - is that we are in the mind of Gottfried von Einem as he considers how to put Der Prozess to music, and as he plays the role of the reluctant arrested man he even holds out a sheet of music as his identification papers. The main official who has advised him of his rights (or lack of them) is a bewigged conductor of the orchestra who are all outside his room, ready to lead him on merry dance through the proceedings.

It seems like absurdity is the direction that Herheim has chosen to present the situation of Josef K.'s trial, but there is a close attention to detail here, every bit of it striving to get to the heart of this curious situation - and curious opera evidently - and find out what it really says about the contract the individual believes they have entered into with society's expectations, laws and conventions. Josef K. is certain that he has committed no wrong, and since he lives in a civilised nation at peace where the rule of law holds sway, he will surely be believed and trusted by the state. They will surely see that there has been a mistake and he will be afforded treatment in accord with his human rights. And yet, he begins to doubt himself. If the state thinks he has done something wrong, well, surely it can't be for no reason?

It doesn't take a great deal of imagination to recognise this as the dilemma of many who have fallen foul of the state, of the authorities, of petty rule-enforcers. And, as is becoming increasingly evident, it's not just something that happens in nations under an impressive authoritarian rule (as we once perhaps naively thought, placing our trust in the rule of law), but that it seems to be the nature of the state (political leaders, parties) to seek to undermine, remove and destroy individual thought and dissent that might lead to their removal from power. It's a universal condition and one perhaps that needs to be recognised with the growing presence of generative AI that will eventually make many decisions for us in the future (sorry, I know it seems obligatory to shoehorn mention of AI into every review now).

Add to that some psychosexual impulses and religious guilt that pervade Josef K. or Kafka, a critique of bureaucracy as an end in itself, some self-hatred, insecurities and even a literal scene of self- flagellation and there is a lot to unpack here, without even getting into Herheim's metafictional and psychoanalytical treatment of it all. That element is even there in the original, in Josef K.'s dissatisfaction with how poorly the proceedings are being carried out and his belief that he could make a better job of his arrest and trial himself. That results here in the Einem figure turning into the lawyer half-way through. Well, he has been almost everyone else here, and since it operates with a kind of dream logic bordering on nightmare there are challenges in trying to tie The Trial down to any one simple rational reading, so better just embrace the absurdity of it all.

Of course that's just the kind of thing Stefan Herheim thrives on, bringing the creator and the creation into the mix as well as probing the undercurrents in the work and the creation. He has done so notably with Tchaikovsky (Eugene Onegin and The Queen of Spades for the Dutch National Opera) and with Wagner (Parsifal, Der Ring des Nibelungen), and successfully so, somehow grasping all the complexity and layers and yet making it readable and accessible (except to those expecting a conventional playing out of the original plot). He has plenty to work with in Einem's Der Prozess. It's a heck of a challenge, but typically Herheim manages to be faithful to the intent of the original, capturing the absurdity, the comedy, the psychological underpinning of fears and self-doubt, while turning the work inside out and offering his own unique visual style and interpretation with a reflection on the artistic act of musical creativity.

Composed in 1953, very much in the free all-embracing style of the contemporary music of the period, Eimens' music is wonderfully expressive and dynamic, performed here by the small but loud Klangforum Wien orchestra at the back of the An der Wien Kammeroper stage. The music jumps between short sections that capture the fast moving changes of the action and tone of the drama, with rhythmic pulses, marching arrangements, pumping brass and melodic woodwind playing and even hints of jazz. There is even a parody or reference to Puccini's Tosca for some unfathomable reason at one point (there is much in this work, in the music and the direction that is unfathomable). It reminds me of Prokofiev's playful approach to the developing absurdity of The Love of Three Oranges, and it works wonderfully for this work. Even those bits of Kafka that drag and frustrate the longer it goes on are mirrored here. 

It's debatable whether Herheim has anything to add to The Trial, but he certainly brings out certain elements well and gives much to think about. It's Einem however who pulls out all the stops in a musically rich and fascinating response to the work. Which means the orchestra compete to hold the attention with than the drama, and the superb musical direction of Walter Kobéra and the performance of the Klangforum Wien PPCM Academy of an arrangement of the score for chamber orchestra never ceases to impress. Combined with the busy activity on the small stage with a relatively large cast and Herheim adding additional figures, nothing is easy about this work, but the production design is marvellous at keeping it all together.

Although the production involves professional and students, everything about it is first-rate. In fact, it's the youthful element of the student singers that bring such an energy to the proceedings, working alongside and pushed by more experienced singers and musicians. Josef K. however would be a challenge for any singer, particularly faced with the layers and complexity that Herheim adds to the role, hence it has an experienced performer like Robert Murray taking the part. Anne-Fleur Werner has similar challenges having to play all the female singing roles (or single female in multiple Kafkaesque incarnations), many of them sexual situations, and she is excellent. But the rest of the cast similarly all have multiple roles and performance challenges and all are exceptionally good here. Ironically, for a work of literature that has the reputation of being intense and intimidating, Herheim and the cast - choosing not to execute Josef K. in this production - show that there is actually something liberating in the way Kafka's work opens up a new way of breaking the unspoken agreements and formal conventions between the individual and the state, and there is a similar sense of liberation in Einem's musical approach that is captured beautifully in the nature of this production.

External links: Theater an der Wien, OperaVision

Parać - Judith (Zagreb, 2024)

Frano Parać - Judith

Croatian National Theatre, Zagreb, 2024

Ivan Josip Skender, Snježana Banović, Sofija Petrović, Matija Meić, Stjepan Franetović, Mate Akrap, Ivo Gamulin, Emilia Rukavina, Petra Cik, Marin Čargo, Siniša Galović, Mario Bokun

OperaVision - 5th October 2024

Despite being the only female character to have a book dedicated to her in the Old Testament, Judith has not made a great impression on the opera world. There have been several notable but rarely heard works, including Vivaldi's oratorio Juditha Triumphans in 1717, an 1863 Russian opera Judith by Aleksandr Serov and a 1922 opera Judith und Holofernes by the Austria composer Emil Nikolaus von Reznicek, but Judith is perhaps better known to most people through some of the great classical painters, Caravaggio's probably being the most famous. The single powerful and extremely violent image of Judith's beheading of Holofernes in some of those paintings may explain why it hasn't been adapted more often to the theatrical or lyric stage, but it's more likely that the impact of the story centres on this key scene and it's difficult to establish a sense of drama and context around it.

To outward appearances, it's not a complex or even a subtle plot by any means. To save the people of Bethulia from the Assyrian forces Judith seduces Holofernes with her charms and cuts off his head while she sleeps. Essentially, that is it in terms of dramatic action, but there is a need to establish historical context, and there are evidently considerable depths of human feelings, resistance and consequences of enacting such a violent act to be taken into account. From a contemporary viewpoint, the subject raises questions of female empowerment and achieving justice, even if there are questionable behaviours in a woman using her beauty and female wiles to achieve those aims. The greatest paintings of the subject - and perhaps the most graphic - Caravaggio's and Artemisia Gentileschi's Judith, manage to address all these questions in all the gruesome horror of the act, while an opera must seek to address those issues in the composition and music.

For Frano Parać, I get the impression that rather than push a particular reading or direction on the action of Judith, he is content to rely on the source material for the libretto and by giving it the most appropriate dramatic treatment that it will be left to the individual to interpret and indeed feel the moral dilemma and the necessity of Judith's action. That would seem to be a reasonable way to address the subject if the music is up to the challenge of expressing or invoking those deeper issues. Parać doesn't rely on avant-garde musical techniques or instrumentation, but on a more traditional musical treatment, which under conductor Ivan Josip Skender is clearly effective if somewhat limiting.

I wouldn't say that the composer was restricted as such, but the original source material for Parać's opera, composed in the year 2000, undoubtedly plays a part in his approach to the subject. Parać's own libretto is based on the epic work Judita by Marko Marulić, the father of Croatian literature, written in 1521. His intent was to take a biblical story that was written in Latin and make it accessible to the common people, making it the first literary work in the Croatian language. It's a work unadorned by psychological motivation or wider context, relating the story of Judith and Holofernes in a direct fashion and Parać adheres to that principle. The direction of this new production of Judith for the Croatian National Theatre in Zagreb to commemorate the 500th anniversary of the death of Marulić, similarly relies on the most direct and effective way of putting this story across on the stage.

The subject itself suggests a certain approach and delivery and those are evident in this 2024 Zagreb production. Musically, Parać keeps that classical form and structure in the opera, and there are certainly a number of effective models for this subject. It's hard not to think of Verdi's Nabucco at the opening of the work, as the people in chorus lament and pray for delivery from their fate under an oppressive regime, the Israeli people of the city of Bethulia under siege by the Assyrian forces of Holofernes. Verdi is evident there, but there is also more than a little of the undercurrent of menace running through Turandot in there, particularly in those opening scenes, but the playing out of one person's determination to see through her duty despite the considerable dangers is evident throughout in the darker but still melodic character of the music in Judith.

It might not employ any of the techniques or instrumentation of new music, but what this Croatian National Theatre production of Parać's Judith makes apparent is the strength of the work as one of pure opera. In its directness and simplicity, it comes across as a powerful plot of high emotion and drama, strong dramatic musical writing, exceptionally good singing and an unfussy but impressive direction by Snježana Banović that supports the drama and provides spectacle. You can't argue with that. You could expect that it might make some contemporary commentary on the conflicts against oppressive forces in the world today - and god knows there are plenty to choose from - although perhaps we don't need reminded of it on the opera stage as well. Like Turandot however there is little historical context emphasised in this production of Judith, so it almost operates in abstraction of the necessity of goodness and purity to fight against evil. And there we are very much aligned with Gentileschi and Caravaggio as much as Marko Marulić.

Adhering to the directness of the drama, the structure and arrangement of scenes keeps to a classical form across seven scenes divided into two acts. In Act I, the first scene sets up the climate of fear in a choral arrangement with the people of Bethulia praying, awaiting attack from the army of Holofernes just outside the city. The danger is heightened by the arrival of Achior who testifies to the horrors about to be enacted. Unwilling to surrender while there is a chance God will save them, they choose to wait for five more days. Judith, unwilling to believe you can impose a deadline on God, chooses to go into the enemy camp herself, and prepares herself with the help of her maid.

Once past the enemy guards, introducing another fearful choral episode with the assembled male chorus using handheld wooden claps, Judith has no difficulty in seducing Holofernes with her great beauty, but also using the five-day challenge to God as a reason for her rejecting the Bethulians. After a celebratory banquet and much drinking, Judith takes Holofernes' sword and summons up the strength to kill the sleeping drunk General and remove his head. Bringing it back to Bethulia, the people rejoice and prise Judith while the Assyrians flee in fear and confusion.

Evidently, a production of this opera relies on having a powerful central performance, Judith is indeed written as such with all other roles secondary, and it requires a commanding but lyrical voice to carry it. We certainly have that here in the rich, deep full voice of mezzo-soprano Sofija Petrović, who gives a compelling performance. A mark of the nature of the work is that she doesn't even have a tenor to compete with. The only tenor role is a relatively minor one, Achior, but he plays a key role in the plot nonetheless and is sung well by Ivo Gamulin. Holofernes, sung by Matija Meić, is obviously is a baritone baddie, but the part is surprisingly underwritten as far as the characterisation and limited singing role he has. Everything however is built around the role of Judith, the choral arrangements impressive, the well-designed sets and lighting serving to enhance her presence and the mood of the opera, and it comes across wonderfully effectively in this production.

External links: OperaVision, Croatian National Theatre

Charpentier - Médée (Paris, 2024)

Marc-Antoine Charpentier - Médée

Opéra National de Paris, 2024

William Christie, David McVicar, Lea Desandre, Reinoud Van Mechelen, Laurent Naouri, Ana Vieira Leite, Gordon Bintner, Emmanuelle de Negri, Élodie Fonnard, Lisandro Abadie, Julie Roset, Mariasole Mainini, Maud Gnidzaz, Juliette Perret, Virginie Thomas, Julia Wischniewski, Alice Gregorio, Bastien Rimondi, Clément Debieuvre, Matthieu Walendzik

ARTE Concert - 3rd and 7th May 2024

Euripides' ancient Greek tragedy of Medea is a sensational tale of sex and violence of love and betrayal that has long inspired theatre and the arts and of course countless opera versions over the centuries, from Francesco Cavalli's Il Giasone in 1649 to Aribert Riemann's Medea in 2010. The most famous opera version, its status defined by Maria Callas, is Luigi Cherubini’s Médée, and that's the version you are most likely to still see performed. With the works of Marc-Antoine Charpentier having their turn in the early opera spotlight, William Christie again being at the forefront of reviving great forgotten works of the early period of classic French 17th century opera, you aren't going to get a better opportunity to experience the quality of his version of Médée than this production on the Paris stage at the Palais Garnier.

With a libretto by French dramatist Thomas Corneille, who composed libretti for Lully's operas, and it being an opera composed during the reign of Louis XIV, you might have some expectations as to how this will play out. If you are thinking rather dry 17th century drama with some longeurs, noble sentiments and classical formality that require some patience and familiarity with the style to appreciate, you'd be partly right, but with Charpentier and French music of this period, you can also expect the flavour of wonderful dance music, choruses and spectacle all fulfilling the dramatic punch of the story. You definitely get that in this opera and it's brought out effectively in a manner that ensures accessibility in Christie's musical direction and in this production directed by David McVicar.

But there is a little scene setting required first of all to establish the situation that is going to lead to Jason's betrayal of his wife Medea and fire such fury in her that she is going to do the unthinkable. The context is their exile from Thessaly driven by the people's fear of Medea's magical powers, and Jason's seeking an alliance that will give them safe haven with King Creon in Corinth. He is prepared to lead a joint Corinthian and Argive army against Thessaly and extend the power of the rule of Creon. Although his daughter Creusa has been promised to Oronte, the Prince of Argos, Creon thinks Jason would make a better husband for the Princess. Jason sees that as an opportunity to secure and elevate his own position, but how will Medea take the news?

Well, I think we all know how that goes, and although the phrase "hell hath no fury like a woman scorned" wasn't around at the time (it being coined just 4 years after Charpentier's opera in 1697 by William Congreve), there is no surer description for what takes place in the final act here. There is however other shades and colours of dramatic action and sentiment that Corneille and Charpentier have to work with before Act V of Médée. Act I starts slowly with Medea expressing misgivings about Jason's mission, Jason himself confessing love for Creusa to his confidant Arcus, but it soon picks up with the armies assembling for the attack against the Thessalonians.

The Paris Opera production sets this version in a more recent and familiar wartime setting, Creon a de Gaulle like figure, Oronte a brash American fighter pilot, Jason of course a naval officer. It works fine, removing it from the Greek classicism and giving it an attractive freshness and colour on the Palais Garnier stage. Dance routines from a small troupe of six male and six female dancers enliven the stage choreography and choral arrangements considerably; they are not overly elaborate, more formation dancing that suits the militaristic look and feel of the setting. The real battle here however is more the one between Jason and Oronte for the favour of Creusa than a concerted fight against the foreign enemy.

That more or less establishes the template for what follows in subsequent acts of Médée; a little bit of accompanied recitative exposition followed by some invigorating music, singing and dancing as the emotional temperature rises. The stage production rises to those moments as well with - it being a David McVicar production - a few surprising twists. A glittering US fighter plane is wheeled on at the end of Act II for a nightclub scene with L’Amour/Cupid appearing as a cabaret act, the whole scene bathed in purple and pink light. Yes, it's a little bit camp, in a McVicar way, but not excessively so. It's a good way to treat the mythological characters that appear in the opera and it seems to fit musically.

The latter is essential really, since musically this production has the complete William Christie attention to detail and above all rhythm. The use of period instruments is invigorating in those dance and choral pieces, with soft flute and plucked theorbo or lute accompanying the expressions of troubled emotions. Authenticity is a matter for the musical director of course and I'm in no position to dispute or approve the choices Christie makes, but he always makes early music that could otherwise sound alien to a modern classical audience feel accessible and beautiful as well as expressive of emotional and dramatic content.

There's a sweetness to the music that is reflected in the singing voices. Yes, that even goes for Lea Desandre as Medea, but the softness of her voice has an underlying steeliness that leaves you in no doubt as to the depths of feeling love and betrayal inspired in her, nor the horrors she is capable of inflicting because of them. Corneille provides adequate motivation, character definition and some poetic beauty in the libretto for Medea. Vowing vengeance in collaboration with Oronte in Act III, she instinctively softens in the face of Jason and believes she can persuade him away from the fatal course he is on. (Jason is also well sung in this scene by Reinoud Van Mechelen, but perhaps lacks the same depth of character). This leads to a beautiful lament "Quel prix de mon amour, quel fruit de mes forfaits" where Desandre shines, pouring out the complexity and depth of Medea's love for Jason. It's a pivotal scene that the outcome depends on and everything about this is convincing for what follows.

What follows is of course all the horrors of hell, and there Desandre is also wonderfully convincing. The early dance rhythms of the period music might not seem best designed for that kind of darkness, but the fury within is there in Desandre and in McVicar's direction of the subsequent acts and scenes with dancers and demons adding emphasis and impact to the intent. It's not a particularly thrilling or insightful production, more typical 'neoclassical' McVicar, but the way it is modernised is enough really to be able to appreciate the true qualities of the work. Under William Christie the work's beauty, its charm, its seductiveness, as well as its edge of menace are all there in a wonderful combination of soft flutes and flurries of plucked and hammered strings.

External links: Opéra National de Paris, ARTE Concert

Britten - Owen Wingrave (Manchester, 2025)

Benjamin Britten - Owen Wingrave

Royal Northern College of Music, 2025

Rory Macdonald, Benjamin Voce, Orpha Phelan, Alex Riddell, Johannes Gerges, Sam Rose, Kirsty McNaughton, Esther Shea, Hannah Andrusier, Daisy Mitchell, Samuel Horton, Grant Haddow

RMCM Theatre, Manchester - 5th April 2025

The cause of going to war has remained a moral dilemma throughout the ages, and those conscientious objectors and pacifists opposed to it have very much been against the tide of history. Even the most devout Christian leaders seem to be permitted special dispensation to get around the very unambiguous commandment "Thou shall not kill" when it comes to war. Perhaps the real problem that hasn't been addressed is that human nature doesn't seem to have yet found a way to overcome its taste for greed and barbarism. Quite the contrary. To present oneself as a nonconformist to the prevailing order of things as Owen Wingrave does and as Benjamin Britten did in his time, one needs a strong counterargument and Henry James' original story presents the case where it's not enough to just be against something, but rather to take positive steps and stand up for one's beliefs from a position of strength even when they are rejected by everyone else.

That's perhaps getting a little preachy, but it's necessary to emphasise how much the arguments in Owen Wingrave and in Britten's impassioned opera version are just as important now as they were at the end of the 19th century when James read uncomprehendingly of the glorification of Napoleon's campaigns, and during the war years of the 1930s and 40s when Britten took a principled stand as a conscientious objector. It also serves as a reminder that, over a decade on from the composer's anniversary celebrations and now less frequently performed (The Turn of the Screw aside), Britten's music still has a lot to offer and hopefully isn't going out of fashion. Written for musicians and audiences of all ages - Owen Wingrave even originating as a TV opera - makes his work suitable for smaller scale productions, while still having all the impact of a full-scale opera production. That's essentially what we got at with this Owen Wingrave at the Royal Northern College of Music in Manchester.

Having come to his thoroughly considered the reasons for his decision to withdraw from military academy, Owen Wingrave's initial arguments and explanations, his genuine distaste for what it represents come from the heart and get directly to the essence of his dilemma. He is unable to see any case of glorification of the death, violence and misery that war brings. Wingrave, despite a long proud family tradition (of being killed in battle), refuses to take part in such horror, much to the shock, disbelief and disapproval of his family and friends. He names and shames all the wartime leaders/mass murderers of history and even when challenged on that by his tutor Coyle and fellow student Lechmere to dare level his argument against a great man like Wellington, recalls the Duke's famous quote that "Nothing except a battle lost can be half so melancholy as a battle won". The counter-argument presented by Coyle and Lechmere is that Wellington still fought his battles and won them. 

The sincerity of the sentiment and the intellectual argument are one thing - and would probably not make all that compelling a subject for an opera - but making it feel like a matter of real life and death is another. Although it wasn't his usual genre, The Turn of the Screw notwithstanding (also developed as an opera by Britten of course), Henry James found the ghost story an effective means for tapping into areas of the human psyche as a way of exposing or suggesting unspoken and taboo subjects. Britten also rose to that challenge in the writing of Owen Wingrave, commissioned in 1971 for a TV broadcast, and while the opera does inevitably have its moments of preachiness, it also finds ways musically to persuade and frighten in order to get beneath the skin. The director of this production, Orpha Phelan, also finds ways to make that come alive in mood, content and situation, and so too do the music students at RNCM.

The essential character of making this a pertinent subject today is evidently to make it feel present, not some dusty period drama or ghost story. That is clearly the intention right from the start of this production, using the overture or introduction to show soldiers from a number of historical periods climbing onto the stage, seeking cover and fighting for their lives. These are the Spirits of Paramour, the generations of Wingrave men who have given their lives for their country. These physical figures present a more effective ghostly presence than mere portraits of military ancestry hanging on the ancestral walls of the family estate for glorification. Phelan even provides a little tableau to illustrate the 'glorious' fate of Owen's father that is all the more effective for making it feel real. The talk of honour, sacrifice, duty and glory in war is just a twisting of language, but such devices show how Owen sees through this. His intent is to take back or reclaim the language of honour and decency for those who choose not to kill others or submit to blind obedience.

The military tradition of the Wingrave males present one kind of presence of horror, but there is another ghost story introduced that ties into the family's own mythology, another form of self-aggrandisement that in reality hides an uncomfortable truth. Whether taken literally or not (it's a problematic layer at least that has to be dealt with by a director), the childish dare to stay in a haunted room does contribute to the sense of unease in the breaking of taboos, in how far Owen is willing to go to show the depth and sincerity of his beliefs, and his fate is the price to be paid for it. Phelan again makes good choices in how she presents those elements, not playing up to genre trappings, but showing that there is a dark horrible story here, one of bullying and abuse, one that we may take to apply to the techniques employed on young recruits to become unthinking killers and grist for the mill. 

The set and the production design by Madeleine Boyd (who previously worked with Phelan on the Wexford Festival Opera's excellent production of Donizetti's Le convenienze ed inconvenienze teatrali last year, certainly works very much along with the tone of Phelan's direction and contributes considerably to the mood. The choice is not to set it in the present day (where the horror of modern warfare seems even more depersonalised with drones and long-range missiles), but closer to Britten's wartime period. That, the First World War and the Napoleonic era referenced here, would still be the kind of warfare that an audience would be most familiar with as a killing ground. Somehow, even the Paramour setting has a similar feel of something mired in the past, like its hidebound intransigence in regard to the military establishment, a former glory that has not survived the rigours of the passage of time.

For the April 5th performance of Owen Wingrave at the RNCM, Alex Riddell gave a controlled, assured and impassioned performance as Owen, never descending to over earnestness or over-emphasis, but rather delivering with conviction and completely in line with the nature of the character. He is determined and assured, but also regretful of how his commitment to his own beliefs will be taken by his family. Riddell held the attention completely and conveyed the meaning of what is sung through a commanding performance. 

Kirsty McNaughton was a striking Miss Wingrave, as was Hannah Andrusier's Mrs Julian. Aside from the title character, few other roles have any sympathetic qualities in this opera, but it's important that the opposition that Owen faces has sufficient expression and voice, and that was abundantly delivered by McNaughton and Andrusier. Serving an equally important role as Owen's fiancée, Daisy Mitchell performance was very much up to the task of the berating and bullying Kate. Mrs Coyle has more of a conflicted position, but was sung well by Esther Shea.

In comparison to the forceful writing of the female roles, the military men come across as rather weak and pathetic, but were characterised and sung well by Johannes Gerges as Coyle and Sam Rose as the young, enthusiastic and approval-seeking Lechmere. Grant Haddow gave a perfect delivery of the ghost story as the ballad singer at the opening of the second act, setting up Samuel Horton to present the formidable Sir Philip Wingrave as the author or instigator of Owen's demise.

Britten's score was presented in a reduced orchestration at this RNCM production, but I have to say that the musical performance never felt like it. Rory Macdonald's musical direction, with the orchestra here playing under assistant conductor Benjamin Voce, had all the necessary mood and impact. And not just the music nor indeed the uniformly fine singing performances, but everything about this production contributed to the mood and direction of the piece and the most effective way of delivering the important message of the opera. Even the offstage chorus sounded perfect as the Spirits of Paramore. This was pretty much an ideal production of Owen Wingrave whichever way you look at it.

External links: Royal Northern College of Music

Wagner - Der fliegende Höllander (Dublin, 2025)

Richard Wagner - Der fliegende Höllander

Irish National Opera, 2025

Fergus Sheil, Rachael Hewer, Jordan Shanahan, Giselle Allen, James Creswell, Toby Spence, Carolyn Dobbin, Gavan Ring

Bord Gáis Energy Theatre, Dublin - 23rd March 2025

After a number of ambitious productions in the seasons following their 2018 inauguration, it seemed to me that post-pandemic the Irish National Opera had settled down to productions that are a little less challenging and perhaps more accessible to a wider audience that might not regularly go to the opera. That would seem to continue to be the case with their latest production of Der fliegende Höllander, the most accessible of Wagner's works, although performing any Wagner opera can be seen as challenging enough really. While there was no extravagant contemporary reinterpretation of the meaning of the work or sign of any imaginative play on its themes, it can sometimes be enough just to let a 'respectful' production of Wagner's work speak for itself, and in the case of the INO's 2024-25 season Der fliegende Höllander, that proved to be the case.

Not distracted by trying to work out how the meaning of the work could be aligned with contemporary events, it struck me instead that there are two essential qualities that the INO's production chose to focus on for this Der fliegende Höllander. It was not really the commercial considerations of attracting audiences and filling the Bord Gáis Energy Theatre, which is important evidently but that should ideally come naturally as a consequence of ensuring that all the other essential elements are right. To successfully achieve that in Der fliegende Höllander it's necessary to recognise above all the importance of the role of mythology in Wagner's world, and the two qualities that the Irish National Opera employed to achieve that were through the specific attention given to the musical treatment and, to a lesser degree, through the direction of the stage production. Getting the basics right, in other words.

I'll take the direction of the stage production first, since my initial impression was that Rachael Hewer didn't appear to have anything special to bring to the work. It was impressively designed and looked spectacular in places, but offering little in the way of commentary on the meaning of the work. The long overture is one way of introducing such ideas and it seemed that this one was heading towards what is now, in the United States anyway, a rather unfashionably 'woke' re-envisioning of the opera as a feminist statement. For those of us not under the influence of a resetting of the world to the agendas of rich white American billionaires however, it's an interesting idea that could have a certain validity if you can carry it off. I'm not sure that Wagner would have seen it that way, but it does reflect belief in the power of myth and art to offer redemption and transformation.

The overture sees a young child in a red coat - a familiar device it has to be said and you could confidently expect to see the older Senta sporting a similar one later - being introduced to all manner of women in traditional small community working roles from teacher to governess to the role eventually mapped out for her as a worker in a factory gutting and packing fish. Young Senta respects all these women's choices but she has other wild ideas for herself inspired by her book of fairy tales. She becomes obsessed with the myth of the Flying Dutchman, but really what she believes in is her ability to make her own choices, the myth giving her the courage to believe in herself, in her inner values.

These are recognised by the Dutchman when they meet, something he describes as a woman's greatest quality; her eternal fidelity. Whatever way you choose to see it however, it's essentially Senta's own self-belief in the value of a deeper truth, one which allows her to feel compassion for the injustice of the fate of the Dutchman. It's a minor distinction or small point used to bring the opera into focus, but it proves to be a critical one as far as the production overcoming its limitations elsewhere.

Fergus Sheils' musical direction and conducting of the INO however was simply masterful. There is no other word for it. Wagner's music for this opera - and indeed any of his operas - should hit you right between the eyes, in the ears and in the heart and that's what we got here. Musically of course Der fliegende Höllander is a bit of a curate's egg, the composer on his way to his long through-composition and radical reinvention of what could be achieved in music drama, but there are a few odd left-over elements like Daland's Bellini-influenced aria that breaks up the flow. Under Sheils this however had a coherence and consistency, the whole composition of the opera and its whole purpose being in the telling of myth through music and singing.

It seems self evident, but Der fliegende Höllander is a sung opera. By which I mean Wagner almost totally dispenses with any idea of naturalism and makes it a condition of the characters that they sing of their life. The Helmsman sings a song of longing for return to land and the love of the woman waiting for him, the women sing while they work, Senta relates the myth of the Dutchman in a song, Act III features a drunken boisterous singalong. It's a way of tying life up with myth in the ritual of song, because the opera is all about the power of myth (and Wagner) to change the world. That's what Senta recognises, that is what sets her apart from the other women - and indeed men, her father dreaming only of wealth - giving her the strength to believe in herself.

Sheil gets that and he gets that Wagner provides everything that is needed in the score. As conductor he gets the right mood for every scene, knowing when to slow the pace down for contemplation, when to let an edge of tension and horror creep in, and when to deliver an effective dramatic or emotional punch. That goes hand in hand with the stage direction here. The raising of the tattered, drenched red sails from the depths of the dark ocean below the stage, dripping water in an eery silence, is just such a moment. The choral challenge of the townspeople to the ghostly crew of the Flying Dutchman is another, loud and boisterous, resulting in a flaming torch being thrown and setting the sails alight. (The fire fortunately a projection this time after an earlier fire alarm resulted in an evacuation from the theatre during the interval). All of this - and elsewhere too - established a highly charged atmosphere, not least in the powerful conclusion with the child Senta being winched out of the sea.

All of which might raise a question over Senta’s lifestyle choices, but there are answers waiting to be found there if you want to take the time to think about it. But you didn't need to. The power of Wagner's opera (one that I'm increasingly coming around to consider underrated in as far as measuring up against his great masterpieces) needs no interpretation or translation. The strength of the singing is certainly another vital aspect in getting that across and Giselle Allen's Senta, Jordan Shanahan's Dutchman, James Creswell's Daland and Toby Spence's Erik all fulfilled all those roles admirably as did Carolyn Dobbin as Mary and Gavan Ring as the Steersman, but it's the INO's note-perfect account of the musical interpretation and the mood of Wagner's work - a supreme account of the power of mythology and practically a legend in its own right - that leaves the necessary lasting impression.

External links: Irish National Opera

McDonnell - Politics of the Imagination

Anselm McDonnell - Politics of the Imagination

Stop Small Boats – Crash Ensemble – Leonie Bluett, Kate Ellis, Patrick Nolan – Barrowclough, Joel the Custodian, Kosyne

Politics of the Imagination – Crash Ensemble – Leonie Bluett, Kate Ellis, Patrick Nolan – Barrowclough, Joel the Custodian, Kosyne

The Union is our God – Musicians of the London Symphony Orchestra – Clare Findlater, Tom Ellis, Sam Walton, David Jackson

Cross-Purposes – Musicians of the London Symphony Orchestra – Heather Roche, Louise McMonagle

Independent label CD/Download

One of the problems for composers of contemporary classical or new music, apart from the challenges of getting new work commissioned and performed in the first place, is that it can appear difficult, abstract and academic to the outside observer, detached from the 'real world'. We are a long way away from the political engagement of the music of Luigi Nono (Intolleranza 1960), but fortunately, as seen recently in the latest edition of the Hard Rain SoloistEnsemble's Ink Still Wet programme, there is a new generation of composers willing to confront and engage with the world around us and the new challenges we face today, many recognising the importance of our relationship with nature and how it is under threat, finding relevant and creative ways to explore those issues.

Whether it's concern about the climate or returning to seek solace in nature that is uppermost in many people's mind, the political and social issues raised by Luigi Nono a long time ago are unsurprisingly not all that different from similar problems we face in the world today. There is still a lot of 'intolleranza' going around. I don't think it's arguable that we might even be in a far worse place today, but a different response is required and indeed a new musical approach. What you might not be expecting from a contemporary music composer however - and to be honest, there has been little indication from this composer that he was heading in this direction - is the impact of the first track on Anselm McDonnell's third album, setting the tone for what follows; a word driven electronic beat and a rap that samples and musically elaborates on Rishi Sunak's promise to Stop Small Boats, shifting from Stockhausen into Prodigy territory. Now that's a generational shift.

You can thank Birmingham rappers Barrowclough, Joel the Custodian and Kosyne for that along with members of Ireland's ever creative music group, the Crash Ensemble, but Irish/Welsh composer Anselm McDonnell has already made ambitious steps towards extending the range of what can be explored by contemporary music, and elsewhere on the album working with the LSO, he can be seen working towards a style where there needs to be no strict demarcation or boundaries around what media and instrumentation contemporary music can make use of, nor what subjects it can deal with. The scene set with Stop Small Boats, the music genre barriers already beaten down and ready to confront the political climate of the day, those features are what characterise and what amounts to a kind of rap opera - or 'hip-hopera' - Politics of the Imagination.

There is no need to detail or even rail against everything that is wrong with the world today. In Politics of the Imagination the pertinent question posed by one of its characters is "What do you want to see changed? What's collapsing under the strain? What could be brought into public domain?". Brexit and AI are just two of the problems/solutions mentioned here, but not as merely throwaway buzzwords. These are issues that were/are supposed to bring change, but have they been or will they be for the better? And if there is any good to come of such new ways of working, who will really benefit from them? What is really needed is an imaginative response, a politics of the imagination to find a way how we can break the current failing/failed system and come up with new ideas. No, I'm not seeing much sign of that either, although there are a few crypto-fascist billionaires with some ideas of how much they can gain from breaking the system. If we can be aware of the danger and avoid that fate, that might be the best we can hope for right now.

Politics of the Imagination does just that in a light-hearted, tongue-in-cheek way, but that can be a good and accessible means of getting a message across. Divided into seven sections, the piece opens with the fall-out from a local politician's press conference on his plans to fix the post-pandemic, post-Brexit problems of his constituency of Nether Whitaker, but is really just finding a way to serve his own interests? He is indeed challenged on this quite vocally by one activist, actually a former schoolmate, the two men having very different views on what needs to change. Their discussion continues in an elevator where a mysterious lift attendant takes them on a Being John Malkovich journey to floors where they have the opportunity to try out their ideals in various conceptions of utopia. Needless to say, the future doesn't look too bright (and unfortunately for us here, it does look orange).

Hip-hopera is not a new term or genre, but I don't think its potential as a means to progress musical forms and get across important contemporary ideas has yet been fully realised. The music in Politics of the Imagination does integrate fully with the hip-hop style in a creative way that still retains the flavour of its new music and experimental roots, but it does inevitably take something of a backseat to the delivery to the rap storytelling. If a rap opera sounds intimidating - a challenge new music often has to content with - it is not rap as most of us know it from furious hard driven hip-hop, grime or freestyling monologues, but a form of rap-inflected spoken-word theatre, the three vocalists fluidly interacting in their witty and creatively worded exchanges, leaving space for the situation and the ideas to be heard. The music might never dominate but it also never falls back to simple rhythmic beats and accompaniment either. It's music to explore new worlds, working purely in service of the situations and their utopian ideals, painting an auditory picture, and there is a welcome brief musical coda in the final section, The Basement, that gives pause for reflection and perhaps sums up that fewer words, less idealism and more action is needed.

But the music doesn't stop there and the subsequent final two tracks similarly find new ways in which music can engage with real political events and their consequences on the streets. The Union is our God boldly employs the marching tattoos of snare drums, the boom of the lambeg and confrontational flute playing in a piece inspired by or a reaction to what we call the Marching Season; sounds that are deeply ingrained into the subconscious of many Northern Ireland residents. What McDonnell does however is combine an original arrangement of those traditional instruments with guitar screeches, electronic samples of noises, crashing glass and voices of protestors, ending on a violent note with with a snare hit that sounds like a gunshot. It's a superbly realised piece of music that has absorbs the celebratory nature of the music, but gains deeper resonances and is more than a little unsettling for others who might recognise in it the intimidating background sound of many Belfast summers.

I'm not sure that the behaviour and failures of the UK and world political leaders response to the COVID epidemic needs to be satirised, but consisting of a range of sampled, cut-up and reassembled pronouncements, the final piece Cross-Purposes also clashes familiar voices with sounds in a context where we can take notice of it in a new light. As such it is certainly a topic worth raising again, reminding us by letting the words and pronouncements of our politicians speak for themselves - much like Conor Mitchell and his Belfast Ensemble have done in Abomination, Riot Symphony and the cut-up news samples of Lunaria - that these actions haven't been forgotten and are still out there to be held to account in the court of public opinion. Like The Union is our God and indeed the Belfast Ensemble's work, Cross-Purposes forces you to admire the cleverness of it, take in what it is saying and still feel vaguely disturbed by it all. All good signs that Anselm McDonnell is another Northern Ireland composer on the cutting edge of musical creativity and politically charged contemporary relevance.

External links: Bandcamp, Anselm McDonnell

Mitchell - The Necklace (Belfast, 2025)

Conor Mitchell - The Necklace

The Belfast Ensemble, 2025

Conor Mitchell, Chanice Alexander-Burnett, Christina Bennington, Mark Dugdale, Darren Franklin, Kara Lane, Charlie McCullagh, Ciara Mackey, Tom O’Kelly, Nigel Richards, Brigid Shine

Lyric Theatre, Belfast - 9th March 2025

You never know quite what to expect next from Conor Mitchell and the Belfast Ensemble. Recent experience would suggest something bold and provocative, something that stretches the boundaries of the lyric stage (at the Lyric Theatre), dealing with topical subjects that we can all recognise as being up-to-date and as pressing and relevant as those on this evening's news. So the proposal to produce a musical based on the Maupassant story, The Necklace (La Parure), and only present it in a one-off concert performance seemed a little lightweight and not at all the kind of cutting edge musical theatre you would expect from this composer. Needless to say we got a lot more than we expected.

But before the musical got underway, the audience was also treated to a short tongue-in-cheek introductory music lesson from Conor Mitchell, who was conducting this premiere performance of the work at the Lyric Theatre in Belfast. Essentially what he wanted us to be aware of was the importance of the cadence in everything from Wagner to Sondheim by way of Beethoven. He also mentioned a forthcoming new opera to be presented at the Dublin Theatre Festival later this year and how he now had come from seeing opera and musicals as not all that different to now consider them as distinct or at least "distant cousins". Personally, largely due to Mitchell's previous works, my journey would have come from the opposite direction, not really having much interest in musicals but coming to the view that it all depends on the musical and the composer. If done right, regardless of the compositional and presentational elements, a piece of good music theatre can be just as effective and just as musically sophisticated as an opera. That at least was brilliantly demonstrated in The Necklace.

The plot itself is indeed not all that complicated and can be summed up fairly easily. Set in Paris in the late 19th century, Camille Loisel is dissatisfied with 'making do' and wishes that her husband, a humble civil servant often looked down on because of his Prussian origins, would work harder at improving their social status. He manages to get them an invitation to an exclusive party with a Countess, and they spend a great deal of money borrowed from a loan shark just to get Camille a suitable dress for the occasion. Camille despairs however when realises that she can't go to such an event without jewellery to show off, and borrows a diamond necklace from an old friend, Madame Forestier. Unfortunately Camille loses the necklace and, in an effort to replace it without Madame Forestier knowing, she and her husband run up a huge debt that destroys their lives trying to pay it off.

As far as cadence goes, Mitchell's recommendation was to just trust your ears in the assurance that the composer has all the musical elements in place that will lead you through the work to its necessary resolution without you having to analyse or think too hard about it. And that was good advice, as far as it goes. It might sound like what happens in between is less important, jokingly glossed over by Mitchell as a lot of filling in and clever showing-off on the part of the composer, but what he rather breezily dismisses is actually how the composer uses other musical techniques to turn what might otherwise be a lightweight story into something of greater gravity and deeper resonance. There are other dramatic cadences in the characters and their stories also, each leading up to and culminating in the work's conclusion. The twist punchline there might now be seen as a little too pat, the familiarity of the convention feeling like it has been employed to give the work a little more dramatic weight and poignancy that hasn't been sufficiently explored in the character development, so it's left to the composer to grace it with musical depth that reveals more about the human side. And Mitchell doesn't rely on just the cadence to do that either.

Each of the characters in this musical version of The Necklace have their own little introductions, wishes and dreams and their lives undergo a journey to different conclusions from the Loisels. The maid Colette dreams of love, in adoration of her Alain, and if it doesn't climb to the heights that she dreams of they nonetheless achieve a satisfaction or a drive in their lives with their children that keeps them going. Madame Forestier - the owner of the necklace - has already been disillusioned with life, which is ultimately proved to be 'fake' and she lives with that reality, seeking to improve the lives of others. Even Vernier, the loan shark, has his own justifications and accommodations that allow him to live his life this way. Mitchell's lightness of touch of the libretto or book is balanced by the sophistication of the musical richness that he composes for these characters and their situations, reaching its height in a piece written for the Countess who provides a wonderful take-down of all the other fake and superficial high society guests at her party.

Why the composer chose this story of superficiality and social climbing for a musical treatment and what he sees in it as having contemporary relevance I wouldn't hazard a guess, but in a lot of ways it embodies Mitchell's own developing sophistication as composer and leader of the Belfast Ensemble. Not that there was anything lacking in the company's basic philosophy and approach in their earlier endeavours but, as Mitchell again observed in his introduction, there are certain restrictions and limitations imposed by the necessity of obtaining arts funding, as well as certain obligations. Without compromising their art or ambition, the Belfast Ensemble have worked within their means, building up character, mission and reputation, proving their value over the last few years. That has been evident right through Abomination, Propaganda, The Headless Soldier and in Mitchell's other larger scale commissions like Riot Symphony. The Belfast Ensemble have proved their worth and the faith and investment put in their growth across these successive works, building an audience along the way.

So there was no compromise involved either in the presentation of a major, musically and dramatically sophisticated a work such as this as a one-off concert performance. The treatment and presentation was not lacking in any way and a great deal of the reason for that was putting the investment where it is most important, in the expanded Ensemble and in the exceptional cast assembled for this performance. The singing was breathtakingly good across the board, each managing to bring personality and character to the roles. Christina Bennington brought real vulnerability to Camille Loisel, helping you to sympathise with her ambitions. Who doesn't want to be well thought of - but at what price? That was for Charlie McCullagh to find out as Gustav, stoically and sympathetically. Brigid Shine brought another dimension to the work as the sparkling Colette. Can you be a down-to-earth dreamer? Colette made you think so.

Although there were superb individual performances from all the cast, the choices made by the composer in how to deliver them proved to be another critical factor in the success of the presentation of the work.  There were notable turns from Chanice Alexander-Burnett as the Countess and Nigel Richards as Vernier that were as much to do with well-written characters and their musical pieces as their performance, but threaded throughout the work was a substantial role from Ciara Mackey as the Narrator, as well as all the singers providing a chorus to underline key aspects of the story. Perhaps most effective of all - since we had all been geared up to expect the final cadence - was the manner in which Mitchell chose to let Kara Lane's Madame Forestier deliver the killing blow of the twist in the most subtle but effective manner. But really, all the hard work had been done beforehand.

It was that kind of sophistication that is what strikes you most about The Necklace. Despite the modesty of the presentation of the premiere, it's clear that there has been a lot of hard work put into making this a musical drama that is on a par with the best musical theatre has to offer. There were no spectacular numbers, nothing that - on a first listen anyway - that stood out as a big showstopper tune, but without wanting to overelaborate the metaphor too much (I'm going to anyway), The Necklace was a more modest piece of jewellery; unostentatiously set with gemstones that were perfectly placed to give colour and compliment the piece with a view to letting it work as a whole. Conor Mitchell is not getting ahead of himself, not dealing in paste jewellery and pawning his principles to get there. The Necklace is another gem in the Belfast Ensemble's collection.

External links: The Belfast Ensemble,