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, 

Mitchell - Riot Symphony (Belfast, 2024)

Conor Mitchell - Riot Symphony

Ulster Orchestra, 2004

Andrew Gourlay, Gavin Peden, Rebecca Murphy, Michael Bell

Ulster Hall - 10 May 2024

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

External links: Ulster Orchestra

Mitchell - The Headless Soldier (Belfast, 2023)

Conor Mitchell - The Headless Soldier

The Belfast Ensemble, 2023

Tom Deering, Conor Mitchell, Ed Lyon, Sarah Richmond, Christopher Cull, Shea McDonnell

Lyric Theatre, Belfast - 9th November 2023

They weren't giving too much away about the plot or subject matter of the new opera by Conor Mitchell and Mark Ravenhill on the Belfast Ensemble website or on the website of the Lyric Theatre where the world premiere was being performed as part of the Outburst Queer Arts Festival 2023, but you could rely on The Headless Soldier being controversial, provocative and bang-up-to-the-moment contemporary. Provocative and controversial and probably offending a number of people in the process, but never just for the sake of it, and at least for a good reason. Daring to confront what is not something spoken about in polite society is what has made Mitchell and the Belfast Ensemble perhaps the most vital company in the Northern Ireland arts scene at the moment.

As it turns out, it is precisely polite society and its unwillingness to speak about and confront issues that is the target of The Headless Soldier. Or one of its targets, for it tackles a number of issues, not in a random fashion, but in a manner that is interconnected in ways that you might not think immediately obvious. Indeed, it is not even a traditional opera with a beginning middle and end, but an opera triptych of three short pieces that each build upon each other thematically and musically to add up to something ...well, something quite frightening.

The outline description of the new opera was simply that it "looks beneath the perfect lives of Helen, her husband, Thomas and their haunted son, Zach – finding a hidden, much closer war." No further plot synopsis is provided and the idea of a plot turns out to not really be the whole story anyway. In the first part of the opera, 'Intolerance', Helen introduces herself on the way to becoming a new and better person. To address the painful stomach cramps she has been suffering she has cut out caffeine from her diet in favour of health drinks, pro-biotic yoghurt, acupuncture and regression therapy, and it's really working. Except it isn't. Her intolerance is not so much in her diet as something else deeper within her that is expressed in a few violent outbursts.

In the second part of The Headless Soldier, 'Fear & Misery', we meet Helen's husband Thomas who is trying to convince his wife of a move into a gated community, partly as evidence of belonging to a select social group, but there is also fear behind this desire. His fears seem to be of external forces and dangers and a sense of protectiveness of their son Zachary, but there is something deeper inside giving rise to his fears that a gated community won't protect him from. In 'War & Peace', Zachary is indeed troubled, drawing disturbing pictures of the headless soldier that haunts him in the dark. His parents blame it on the news, which is filled with images of war, but the tensions between his parents are also clearly contributing to his problems.

It sounds like a psychological study, but written by Mark Ravenhill and with Mitchell's music playing just as important a role in what the opera says, there are other levels explored here. War features prominently, the war within the family collectively as well as individuals, fighting battles with their worst impulses and fears, but these problematic attitudes are extended out into the society we live in where other types of war rage. As is often the case with the works of the Belfast Ensemble, this is so up-to-date and relevant that it feels like Ravenhill and Mitchell have been watching the 6 o'clock news this evening and put it all up on the stage as an opera by 7:30pm. It's that 'now', it's immediate and of the moment, even if such unerring accuracy and contemporary relevance is not so much eerily prescient as depressingly inevitable.

So while the middle-class aspirational family are up there on the stage waging war with their demons and each other, Conor Mitchell's direction shows other on-screen violence projected onto screens. It's incredible to think that they have managed to reflect the current Israel-Hamas war with news footage that is fresh from our TV screens, juxtaposing it with relentless Looney Tunes cartoon violence. The conventional wisdom would suggest that desensitisation to violence through on-screen experience is having an impact on the model modern family, but the impression is that Ravenhill and Mitchell are aiming for perhaps the exact opposite - that it's the deeper human fears and failings found in this type of family unit, passed down from generation to generation, that lead to the kind of pain, suffering, hate and death that we can see taking place on a global scale in wars around the world.

That's not a safe or comforting position to take, but then that's exactly what you expect artists like Ravenhill and Mitchell to do; not pander to their audience, but challenge them. Mitchell's music takes the same line of attack, a fascinating blend of harmony, melody and jarring dissonance that reflects the subject. Everything seems very pleasant and idealised on the surface of The Headless Soldier family, but there are little Michael Nyman-esque or John Adams-like flurries of racing panic to the Turn of the Screw-like underlying menace that would threaten to explode into Béla Bartók Duke Bluebeard's Castle horror were it not for the controlled chamber orchestration of the Belfast Ensemble orchestra. Conducted by Tom Deering however, they delivered all the necessary impact. If the final door of the castle is not opened in The Headless Soldier, the score leaves you with a sense that its contents remain locked inside and festering.

Such is the nature of the score in this respect that even two experienced opera singers like Ed Lyon and Sarah Richmond had to use microphone amplification, although that's probably as much to do with the acoustics of the Lyric Theatre not being ideal for opera. That said, Ed Lyon's mic didn't seem to operate on the first night when he took to the stage as Thomas in the second part of the opera, but his delivery was strong enough that it didn't have any noticeable impact other than being out of balance with Sarah Richmond. And with Richmond's powerful delivery, he had his work cut out there. Her solo monologue performance in part one of the opera was just delightful, delivering Ravenhill's deeply acerbic text - deeply in as much as it was simmering below the surface of genteel amiability - with wonderful inflection and timing that was matched by Mitchell's complementary score. Christopher Cull had considerable challenges too for maintaining that tension throughout the final part as the agonised and terrifying apparition of the blood-soaked headless soldier. There were challenging on-stage situations for Shea McDonnell to deal with, but he was equally as impressive as Zachary.

The final part of the opera triptych might not have revealed any answers or delivered the satisfying conclusion that a theatre audience might expect, but Mitchell and Ravenhill didn't write this piece to send you home in comfortable complacency. Compounding the horror seen through the eyes of a child subjected to a bombardment from all sides, turning it into nightmare dreams of a headless soldier, the nightmare is a live and waking one still lying below the surface and ready to erupt later with the next generation. It's not the most comforting of thoughts to leave the theatre with, but its not up to the creators to tie this up neatly or tell you what to think or do. If anything, what they are doing is pointing your darker side back at you, asking you to ask yourself what it is that is really wrong in the world today, and suggesting that you don't have to look too far to find the answers.

External links: The Belfast Ensemble, Lyric Theatre

Mitchell - Propaganda (Belfast, 2022)

Conor Mitchell - Propaganda

The Belfast Ensemble, 2022

Bob Broad, Conor Mitchell, Joanna O'Hare, Darren Franklin, Rebecca Caine, Matthew Cavan, Oliver Lidert, Celia Graham, Sean Kearns

Lyric Theatre - 15th October 2022

Musicals are not something usually covered in OperaJournal as a rule, but there are exceptions to every rule, and I will certainly make an exception when it comes to Conor Mitchell and The Belfast Ensemble. In fact, there are apparently no rules as far as Conor Mitchell is concerned. Whether it's a symphonic mass, musical theatre, operetta, opera, or some undefinable cross between music, video and texts, Mitchell will use whatever means is best suited to the subject he is dealing with, permitting no distinction between what is high art and what is popular entertainment; all of them vehicles capable of putting across serious messages about social, personal and political issues.

I mean, for a start, when was the last time a Belfast composer wrote a musical? Has there ever even been a musical written by a Belfast composer? New opera is not unheard of here - NI Opera Shorts in 2012 provided a platform for several local composers, and Brian Irvine has had several successful new works produced (Least Like The Other). Mitchell, who also contributed Our Day to NI Opera Shorts, has also made a major impact and stirred up some controversy with the brilliant Abomination: A DUP Opera, but I don't think anyone has had the nerve to imagine that a musical would be the best way to present views on local topical issues.

Not that Propaganda 'A New Musical' deals directly with local issues. Set during the Berlin Blockade and Airlift in 1946/47, it hardly seems in any way connected with contemporary or recent Belfast, but indirectly it very much relates to local and more universal issues. It's not that difficult to see some parallels between Belfast and a city that will have its people divided by a wall as a consequence of the events that take place during this period, so that is at least a starting point for recognition, even though any such reference is not laboured or even made explicit, other than hinted at perhaps in one or two scenes and in the spoken accents.

The reason why it's understated - although understated is perhaps not quite the mot juste for describing any aspect of this production - is that the libretto or storyline keeps things simple and largely on a human level. The plot really involves little more than the difficulties for one family doing whatever is necessary while struggling to survive and keep on the right side of the authorities in a Berlin almost utterly destroyed after the war, living in the Russian sector of the city that is already in a precarious position. For Hanna, that involves being a model for some provocative pictures, although her photographer husband Stanislav/Slavi, has more artistic aspirations.

Even in that there is clearly some personal commentary on questions of popular entertainment and art, and that is reflected in the music, which bounds along with big melodies that would grace any great American musical. It is however actually also subtly layered, so you will hear Russian composers referenced and even Irish lilts that suggest other connections. There is something perhaps ironic with the opening 'New York, New York'-like swing of 'Like What You See, Boys?' being applied to war-torn Berlin (if you can make it there, you can definitely make it anywhere), but that opening song already reveals layers in the human struggle and freedom of sexual expression against repressive laws that is teased out in Hanna and Slavi's relationship problems and elsewhere.

There's definitely nothing romaticised about dressing up these personal, social and political differences in catchy memorable melodies. The central love story was born out of difficult circumstances, it lives through difficult circumstances and it ends in difficult circumstances. But change does occur over the course of the drama in the central figure of Hanna, who asserts the determination of the individual to refuse to submit to power of social, political and gender expectations and accept that the circumstances of her position should involve any compromise of her integrity. It's more than that even, Hanna in a way refusing to live the lie that she is the photographer to save Slavi, but becoming confident enough to choose her own way forward.

What is particularly brilliant about Propaganda is the way that Mitchell uses the format of the musical - as a popular entertainment with wonderful songs - as an almost subversive undercurrent to draw out these other underlying layers and issues. You could just enjoy this as a historical entertainment and it works brilliantly on that level, or you can dig deeper if you want. And as ever, Conor Mitchell fearlessly provides plenty of provocative material and is not afraid of courting controversy to make serious, relevant and meaningful social and political points. One scene even relates the struggle for Irish independence with the socialist struggle of Soviet Russia, with huge Soviet banners, the singing of the Russian national anthem, and large projections of Uncle Joe Stalin dominating the stage.

The production and stage design is critical in getting across both these elements, presenting the human story taking place against the backdrop of huge adversarial forces. The production design is simply just stunning. The central home of Slavi, Hanna and her mother is on a raised stage on a framework of scaffolding, representing very much that they are an island in the ruin of Berlin, while all around is the might and threat of Russia. Despite the adherence to period costumes and some projected footage and announcements, it still feels very relatable and applicable to anyone from Belfast who has struggled to assert their own identity within an intolerant society.

The writing, the music and the stage production are all top notch, and with Bob Broad conducting the impressive Belfast Ensemble orchestra everything flows beautifully between the music and drama. The singing and delivery is the other critical element that contributes to the success of Propaganda in its opening run at the Lyric Theatre in Belfast. Everyone gives an outstanding and fully committed performance, with Joanna O'Hare evidently carrying much of the duties in the central role of Hanna. It's very much an ensemble piece without a single weak element, but I was also impressed with Rebecca Caine as Hanna's mother, Magdalene von Furstenberg, who was perhaps the one true operatic voice on the stage. Just to show that this is by no means essential, actor and drag artist Matthew Cavan - who despite appearing in many Belfast Ensemble productions is not usually noted as a singer - was just superb here, singing with conviction and bringing personality and personal character to the role of Gerhardt.

As primarily an opera review site, I have nonetheless previously praised the Belfast Ensemble for being the true progressive musical force in Belfast, willing to push boundaries that NI Opera was failing to do in the post-Oliver Mears years, as they turned away from opera in favour of musicals at the Lyric Theatre like Sweeney Todd and Kiss Me Kate. Ironically, while opera is back on the NI Opera agenda, the scheduling of one opera a year - La Bohème in 2021 and La Traviata in 2022 - even with high production values (and equally high ticket prices) are by no means signs of a superior art form pushing a progressive musical direction. It's again the Belfast Ensemble and a musical at the Lyric Theatre this time that shows real artistic creativity and imagination.

Links: Lyric Theatre, The Belfast Ensemble

Mitchell - Abomination, A DUP Opera (Belfast, 2019)

Conor Mitchell - Abomination, A DUP Opera 

The Belfast Ensemble, 2019

Tom Brady, Conor Mitchell, Rebecca Caine, Tony Flynn, Dawn Burns, Matthew Cavan, Christopher Cull, John Porter, Richard Chappell, James Cooper, Tara Greene, Caolan Keaveney, Helenna Howie

The Lyric Theatre - 7th November 2019

Abomination, A DUP Opera couldn't come at a more opportune moment, although to be fair NI politics present so many that practically any moment would be opportune. As far as this opera is concerned, it comes a month after equal marriage legislation and abortion rights had to be imposed on the province in order to bring it up to the same status as the rest of the UK. The law was passed despite an impotent show of bigoted opposition from the DUP, the largest party in Northern Ireland among whom some members - as the opera notes - regard homosexuality as "an abomination".

Coming just a month before a general election moreover, it's a timely reminder of the party's stance, one that - along with their association with the Tory party and support of Brexit against the will of the majority of voters in Northern Ireland - will hopefully cost them dearly at the ballot box. Ah, if only socially engaged opera and the arts really could change the world! Even if Abomination, A DUP Opera plays out to a mostly sympathetic and progressive audience at the Lyric Theatre in Belfast for the Outburst Queer Arts Festival, Conor Mitchell and the Belfast Ensemble's opera makes enough of an impact that I think it's bound to create ripples outside.

Even from its title and poster image, the opera makes no bones about its subject or target, and that is the former DUP party MP Iris Robinson, the wife of the then NI Assembly First Minister Peter Robinson, in relation to comments she made in public interviews in June 2008 about homosexuality being "an abomination". The day after her comments were made, a young gay man was almost beaten to death on the streets of North Belfast, but rather than row back or tone down her comments, Robinson went further in interviews and on a live phone-in BBC Radio programme hosted by Stephen Nolan, comparing homosexuality to bestiality and describing the AIDS epidemic in Africa as being a curse from God for sodomy.

Her views were shared by other DUP politicians and Abomination makes sure that the voices and ignorant views of repugnance towards homosexuality expressed by Willie McCrea, Jim Wells, Jeffrey Donaldson, Ian Paisley, Ian Paisley Jr, Sammy Wilson and current leader Arlene Foster are all aired in the opera. Rather than invent a scenario around this, composer and director Mitchell uses the politicians' own words for the libretto; the music and lyricism of singing these words aloud and in chorus to an audience them only serving to highlight the absurdity of their homophobic pronouncements being directed and expressed unashamedly in such a way to the general public.

Of course the DUP were only expressing what many of their followers believe, but what is staggering is the arrogance of the DUP politicians believing that the Bible and firmly held Christian beliefs give them the right, the justification and the impunity to share these hateful views in public, Robinson even going as far as to declare that it's the duty of government to uphold God's laws. The tragedy of this position - if you want to see it as a tragedy - is that public opinion progresses faster than the DUP's regressive attitudes, showing them up not only for their bigoted views, but also the hypocrisy of their so-called Christian morals when involved in political scandals, expenses fraud, heating fuel corruption and - in the case of Iris Robinson - the revelation of a favours granted towards a young businessman she was secretly involved with in an affair.

As part of The Belfast Ensemble, a company that is very much concerned with opera, theatre and musicals being relevant to the times and the place we live in, Conor Mitchell then is not wrong in finding this a fascinating subject for an opera. Still, it's unquestionably a challenge to find a way of setting it to music and drama and present it to the public in a way that perhaps serves as some kind of social commentary, but it has to be said that the results are magnificent, and Abomination: A DUP Opera is far and away the biggest and most accomplished piece of work from The Belfast Ensemble to date, genuinely engaging with local matters and social issues with great musical and lyrical finesse.

Since it was indicated beforehand that the opera was using the actual words of Iris Robinson herself for the libretto, I suspected that the Abomination might follow the Ensemble's most recent piece, Lunaria, using actors reading rapid-fire news reports over recent political developments in Northern Ireland, with Mitchell's insistent rhythms matching the flow of projections of newsreel footage. In reality, Mitchell displays a full range of musical pieces in a variety of styles, moods and tempi. Abomination is an opera in the truest sense, with individual singing, some operatic in nature - Rebecca Caine as Iris and Dawn Burns are outstanding - others semi-spoken, with choruses and even a musical dance sequence presenting Iris's illicit affair with an 'angel' lover.

The narrative thread of the work is centred on and continually returns to Robinson's infamous talkshow interview with Stephen Nolan; Nolan here not a singing role but played by an actor, Tony Flynn. Nolan's position is firm on holding Robinson to account for what she says, being careful not to accuse her of being responsible for the beating up of a young gay man, but implicated through words that might have incited or at least given licence to others to similarly express their views. In-between almost anything goes as far as musical arrangements and dramatic enactments are concerned, Mitchell's direction putting the position of the DUP voices in an almost fantastical setting - detached from reality certainly - using projections showing the person in question, with newspaper articles reporting quotes of what they said, while they are sung almost rapturously.

Although it's hugely entertaining there is a serious side to the work and it may lead to accusations of Abomination being nothing more than a DUP bashing, or worse, an invective more directly aimed at Iris Robinson. Mitchell is careful however that there is nothing in the opera that is not actual direct quotes from the people concerned, so he cannot be accused of misrepresentation. Letting the protagonists speak in their own words and make a laughing stock of themselves, and giving them voice in operatic declamation only highlights the absurdity, ignorance and arrogance of their position on matters of homosexuality and gay rights (a mindset that persists within the DUP).

Whether it's fair to treat Iris Robinson as the focal point of the opera or not, she at least is the person who brought these attitudes out into the open with her designation of homosexuality as "an abomination", and she epitomises this sense of belief that their religion gives them divine endorsement or some kind of god-given superiority over others. By the end of the opera however, Abomination, A DUP Opera seems to come around to apply one of the Christian sentiments that appear to be lacking in Robinson's own words and actions, to love the sinner and hate the sin, her own downfall from public office leaving a somewhat tragic figure alone on the stage with a phone and no-one to listen to her any more.

Links: The Belfast Ensemble

Mitchell - The Belfast Ensemble Bash (Belfast, 2019)

Conor Mitchell - The Belfast Ensemble Bash

The House of Usher
The C*** of Queen Catherine
Lunaria
Gilbert and Sullivan's The Pirates of Penzance

The Belfast Ensemble, 2019

Conor Mitchell, Tom Brady, Alison Harding, Darren Franklin, Matthew Cavan, Gavin Peden, Rebecca Murphy, Marcella Walsh, Ciara Mackey, Tony Flynn, Abigail McGibbon, Marie Jones

The Lyric Theatre, Belfast - 28th June 2019, 30th June 2019

Founded in 2016 by Northern Irish composer Conor Mitchell, it's difficult to categorise exactly what it is that the Belfast Ensemble do. Music-theatre is the catch-all term that can include everything from opera, operetta, musicals and spoken drama with musical accompaniment, but even that is too restrictive for what Mitchell and The Belfast Ensemble do, as the balance of music and singing to theatrical drama can vary considerably from piece to piece. What remains a more consistent philosophy is that whether it's a new piece or a gala performance of The Pirates of Penzance, the works are performed in a popular medium with an eye on current affairs, keeping the music relevant as a response to the world we live in. And, just as importantly, it's a response from a Belfast perspective. This isn't a company that sits and works in isolation writing little pieces of abstract experimentation but wants to be in the middle of things and finding popular means to connect music to developments outside.

As a birthday celebration and in preparation for a visit to London, bringing some of their works to the Southbank Centre as part of the PRSF New Music Biennial, The Belfast Ensemble put on a weekend Triple Bill Bash! at the Lyric Theatre in Belfast, performing two of their extended music theatre pieces - The C*** of Queen Catherine and The House of Usher - along with a new piece Lunaria, to give a collective overview of what they are about and give some clues as to possible future directions. To round it off there was a one-off gala performance of The Pirates of Penzance, partly to keep the audience on their toes guessing, partly to consider a post-Brexit UK as a pirate nation (maybe, maybe not), but mainly to touch base with popular music and its primary purpose to entertain.

Adapted from the famous Edgar Allan Poe story, (with some debt to the equally famous Roger Corman movie) The House of Usher is primarily a study in the nature of fear and madness. That would seem a natural response to the world today, and even if it doesn't make any explicit reference to the fall of the Stormont Executive in Northern Ireland that was happening at the time work was written, it's easy enough to draw parallels should you wish to do so. Or again, maybe not. What is so great about the narration and performance however is that it leaves the work open to whatever is going on that is currently generating fear or concern.

The fear that afflicts Roderick and his sister Madeline comes from within, from a family curse, from an insular existence with no outside perspective, a solipsistic obsession, paranoia and fear of the world outside. There's also a terror of being locked up within oneself, buried in those obsessions, not understanding the world, unsure of one's own reactions, fearing them to being abnormal or judged abnormal.

The primary purpose of the Belfast Ensemble's theatrical approach of The House of Usher is to present the heightened tension of that fear-inducing obsessive insularity as effectively as possible, and the company use more than just traditional musical and theatre techniques, involving movement, rhythm, projections and movie clips that bring in not only clips from the 1960 Corman film, but also footage of 9/11. As an exercise in what can be done with theatre it's effective, but it's more than that. It might only use a voice-over narration and no singing, but it is operatic in terms of its musical dimension and incorporation of multidisciplinary elements, similar to what Philip Glass or Michael Nyman do in this genre - the propulsive downward spiral rhythms of Mitchell's score doing much to establish that connection - with a more experimental element that you can find in Michel Van der Aa or in Donnacha Dennehy's work with playwright Enda Walsh and the Dublin based Crash Ensemble.

The C*** of Queen Catherine tries out a different balance of its theatrical and music elements and, as far as I'm concerned, it isn't quite as successful. It's largely an actor's monologue with occasional musical accompaniment from a string quintet. The circumstances of the Spanish Queen's marriage to Henry VIII is related by Catherine of Aragon in an archaic poetic style and aligns itself with a vague commentary on current affairs in Northern Ireland in relation to the impact of Brexit on NI, “what happens when Europe divides in two, Tudor-style” according to the company, but clearly there are no such overt references and no allegorical element is alluded to in the production design.

Despite a great performance from Abigail McGibbon delivering a difficult 50 minute monologue, the piece is however far too long to sustain interest or connect to the elusive, fragmentary imagery of the words. Mitchell's score again evokes mood and drama well, and the theatrical elements provide another dimension to the work through projections and sound and lighting effects, but the piece is not successful in getting much across.

A new short piece, Lunaria consolidates the approach of the Ensemble, concentrating it really with an approach and delivery that thoroughly matches the subject. Brexit is again to the forefront. It's like it is trying to compress all the madness of the last couple of years down into 15 minutes with rapid fire soundbites. Three actors read overlapping headlines and extracts from speeches with video projections looping clips of the main protagonists (Boris Johnston, Arlene Foster, Theresa May) and victims like Lyra McKee that have dominated the headlines and concerns in Northern Ireland in recent times over Brexit and the backstop. Mitchell's music is again propulsive, urgent and rhythmic, based on repetition and escalation towards madness.

Lunaria concentrates the climate of fear of The House of Usher and its directness has the necessary impact and context that the Catherine of Aragon piece fails to achieve. In terms of presentation, the improvised set-up in the Lyric Theatre's studio, the musicians arranged in a circle around the three performers/newsreaders on tables with video clips projected behind certainly got the full impact of the work across, but you could imagine that the finished theatrical presentation will be further developed and no doubt only enhance the impact of the piece.

The weekend performances of The Belfast Ensemble Bash! Triple Bill were followed by a one-off gala performance of The Pirates of Penzance. Mitchell's justification for doing a Gilbert and Sullivan operetta - not that any is needed - is that he sees it as a good way of touching base again with the roots of popular music theatre. Well that's one reason, another is that he confesses that this was the first music theatre he performed in, but Mitchell also raises an interesting point in the introduction that a survey identified that most people's first experience of live music is in the theatre. And that's true for me too, the first musical performance I saw live was a school production of Man of La Mancha, and it did indeed made a singular unforgettable impression.

Whatever intentions and justifications you want to give - and you'd really be stretching it to impose any contemporary current affairs reading - The Pirates of Penzance was about really was just an excuse for the musicians and performers to enjoy themselves and let the audience enjoy it as well. On that level it certainly succeeded. It wasn't the slickest of Gilbert and Sullivan performances, half the cast were actors singing and half were singers acting, but that's a fair medium and characteristic of The Belfast Ensemble approach to mixing and matching. Of the singing performers Rebecca Murphy's Mabel was superb, but all the female roles were impressive. Actor/singer Matthew Cavan tried to bring a little bit of Captain Jack Sparrow-like fun to the rather slim comedy, but his natural flamboyance was limited by the standing and reading nature of the gala performance. Another notable bit of casting was celebrated Belfast playwright Marie Jones (Stones in their Pockets) taking to the stage herself as Chief of Police.

Musically the expanded Ensemble were delightful, the catchy melodies infectious, the performance sounding fresh and invigorated perfectly suited to the Lyric stage, Conor Mitchell conducting with verve and energy. It's easy to be sniffy about operetta and music theatre (particularly in this opera blog when it starts to become the staple of the local opera company, NI Opera), but being able to experiment, test the limits and extend what is considered to be lyric or dramatic theatre is right there in the ethos of the Belfast Ensemble, showing the range of possibilities open to a musical ensemble who refuse to be pigeon-holed into one category. And it's not just about being able to switch from avant-garde to Gilbert and Sullivan on the same bill, but the enthusiasm, musicianship and production values that they apply to them equally.

What the Belfast Ensemble are doing is great and very worthwhile and not just from a purely creative or music experimentation viewpoint. There's great potential in the music-theatre medium they have chosen to work within that is under-represented not just in Belfast, but anywhere in Europe. The choice of subjects that are responsive to the changing Northern Ireland situation within Europe and the wider world however is another important part of the Ensemble's ethos that ensures that that the works presented should always be it fresh, relevant, progressive and popular, not insular academic works for a small audience. With a huge talent base of artists and creatives in Northern Ireland, there is also plenty of capacity for further growth, expansion and collaboration. Exciting times indeed.

Links: The Belfast Ensemble

NI Opera Shorts

Various - NI Opera Shorts

NI Opera, 2012

Fergus Sheil, Rachel O’Riordan, Giselle Allen, Alex Connolly, Doreen Curran, Paul Carey Jones, Mary McCabe, Eamonn Mulhall, Aaron O’Hare, Gemma Prince, Marcella Walsh

The MAC Belfast, 29 June 2012

Our Day by Conor Mitchell and Mark Ravenhill.
Jackie’s Taxi by Ed Bennett and Stacey Gregg.
The Girl Who Knew She Could Fly by Christopher Norby and Frank McGuinness.
Driven by Deirdre McKay and Richard Dormer.
May Contain Flash Photography by Brian Irvine and Owen McCafferty.

The most ambitious project undertaken yet by the recently formed NI Opera, following an award-winning season that wasn’t exactly short of innovation or experimentation - NI Opera Shorts is a bold venture into the risky territory of contemporary opera. Commissioned as part of the London 2012 Festival celebrations around the summer Olympics, NI Opera Shorts consists of five new short opera works - each running for no more than 15 to 20 minutes - showcasing the work of five local composers, written with local, UK and Irish playwrights. Despite the considerable differences between them in terms of approach, style and tone, there was however a remarkable consistency and coherency that arose out of bringing them together in this way, a fact undoubtedly due to a large extent to the creative team’s vision of the concept and the exceptional performances of the singers and the Ulster Orchestra.

Each of the five short works however has its own dramatic impact, particularly when condensed down into the highly-charged form of the opera short. Our Day by Conor Mitchell and Mark Ravenhill has perhaps the most intense experience in terms of its subject and how it relates most directly to the Troubles, but it’s also extraordinarily ambitious in how it concentrates all complex history and emotional content of that experience into one day and into 15-20 minutes of musical and vocal expression. Dealing with the reaction of one family to a British soldier found wounded on the street, the fear, suspicion, hatred and pain is felt on both sides, mixed in with deeper natural human feelings of grief, loss and compassion that have been suppressed or twisted beyond all recognition. Ravenhill sets this one moment of concentrated feeling moreover on one day in 1972 - at the height of the Troubles when, like that famous Christmas football match on the WWI trenches, all Northern Ireland stopped and came together to celebrate the Olympic gold medal win of Mary Peters, a positive moment of beauty, amazement and achievement that throws the twisted reality of what is happening on the streets into perspective.

The raw emotion of that moment is ratcheted up to an almost unbearable level of tension - I could feel myself clenched up in my seat - as guns are waved and shot, as voices are pitched against each other in hatred and fury almost to the level of a scream, with Conor Mitchell’s discordant and aggressively disturbing atonal accompaniment matching the extremity of all those complex, contradictory feelings compressed into such a small time-frame. It put me in mind of Strauss’ Elektra for the intensity of feeling, and dissection of moment-to-moment conflicting emotions, and I daresay you could even apply twisted family archetypes to the arrangement of the protagonists, so rich in allusion is the piece. A large part in putting this across relied on singers being pushed to their limits, and really, the work of Giselle Allen, Marcella Walsh and Eamonn Mulhall was extraordinarily powerful and genuinely chilling.

Ed Bennett and Stacey Gregg’s Jackie’s Taxi is, by contrast, much more up to the minute with the everyday reality on the streets of contemporary Belfast. It may throw in all the expected topical buzzwords of Facebook, blogs and references to Steve Jobs, but it does so in a way that is specific to present-day Belfast - or at least certain parts of it. I never thought I’d see the day when Belfast hoods, millies and spides would appear on an opera stage, but Jackie’s Taxi successfully manages to do that, and do it in a naturalistic way that doesn’t feel too forced or over-dramatised. The language is appropriately as colourful as the subject matter. Sung in English, in chanted lines with strong Belfast accents, it wasn’t always easy to follow the narrative context - something to do with a taxi driver who makes a few drug deliveries on the side complaining about the hazards of her profession and the standard of her clientele - but musically, with Ed Bennett’s Steve Reich-like percussive rhythms, Jackie’s Taxi captured the Belfast beat much better than any of the other pieces, without having to resort to evoking folk or traditional arrangements. In the music, you can sense the pulse of Belfast, the tension and aggression, the humour and the tendency to enjoy a good moan and it fitted perfectly with the use of language and the content, the staging and choreography ensuring that the piece functioned fully in operatic terms.

I felt that this comprehensive operatic dimension that was evident in the first two pieces, was missing from Christopher Norby and Frank McGuinness’s The Girl Who Knew She Could Fly. McGuinness is one of Ireland’s finest playwrights, and his evocation of two parents commemorating the death of their daughter at the site where she jumped to her death from a motorway bridge was beautiful in its concision as a short drama piece. The monologues of the two characters interweave without ever fully connecting, reflecting how each of them is caught up in the torment of their own shattered lives, caught up in a dance of death and despair that holds them together yet keeps them separate. Those sentiments are expressed just as lyrically in Christopher Norby’s Avro Pärt-like score, but it all felt too interiorised and the whole piece never came together in operatic or dramatic terms, the two singers - finely sung by Doreen Curran and Paul Carey Jones, the voices beautifully arranged for the score - looking out for the most part towards the audience over the motorway. The sound of passing cars and the daughter’s voice added additional textures and tone to the work, but if there was a wider dimension to the relating of the circumstances to the daughter’s death, it was difficult to grasp from this single performance.

Evidence however that a dramatic monologue can be operatically expressive (in the manner of Schoenberg’s monodrama Ewartung or Frid’s The Diary of Anne Frank) was provided here by Deirdre McKay and Richard Dormer’s Driven. Like Mitchell and Ravenhill’s Our Day, the success of the work lies in how it bridges the complex relationship between the interior and the external, between what drives one to unfathomable actions in response to a distorted view of nature that has been corrupted by war. Driven relates to the figure of Blair Mayne, a highly-decorated soldier who survived dangerous WWII operations and was named as a threat by Hitler, yet this man comes to meet his death driving a red Riley car at speed down a road in County Down. Entering into the mindset of Mayne, the inner conflict, the nightmarish visions that plague him, his attempts to come to terms with his experiences was powerfully expressed by Eamonn Mulhall and vividly put across through his pacing on the all-purpose staging through effective choreography and lighting. The whole piece was given a perfect musical expression in McKay’s driving Nyman-esque chugging cellos and blaring brass that blended the furious churning of memories and impressions with the momentum of the speeding car. An occasional lilt of traditional Irish arrangements could be detected underlying parts of the score - the only work to draw from such sources - but it was used meaningfully and lyrically in the context of the work. For a monodrama to work so well, it demands a compelling performance on the part of the singer and the orchestra and Driven was consummately dramatic, operatic and emotionally charged.

Drama was predominately to the fore in Brian Irvine and Owen McCafferty’s May Contain Flash Photography, but coming from the pen of one of Northern Ireland’s foremost and most successful contemporary playwrights, that’s not unexpected. The strength of McCafferty’s writing here is the same as in his regular dramas, finding an authentic tone and language for the province’s sense of humour and tying it into a peculiarly absurdist outlook that reflects the self-awareness of hopeless cases who would like to believe that somehow they can overcome the odds - as many have done - but somehow realise the dream itself can be more than enough. Here in May Contain Flash Photography, a family watch a curious alternate-reality lottery where the balls relate to emotions, colours and materials rather than to numbers, hoping that the winning combination will change their lives. The humour is a little hit and miss (and not always each to catch on a single run-through), but humour is difficult to achieve in an opera in any case, particularly in such a short piece. It’s fairly ambitious however to attempt this with a relatively large cast of six characters, all of whom have distinct dreams and expression, but the interaction was exceptionally good. Musically, I wouldn’t have thought a Britten-like style of scoring would have worked in such a context, but Brian Irvine fitted the musical arrangements to the drama very well, the composer particularly strong in bringing the whole range of voices, feelings and overlapping monologues together into a harmonious whole.

What was most memorable about the NI Opera Shorts however wasn’t the quality of the individual contributions, but the sheer variety and the broadness of the scope that they covered. It was thrilling to see the diverse range of ideas that these individual voices brought to the project - an impressive showcase of contemporary Northern Irish opera work that one would rarely have the opportunity to hear performed - but despite the wide spread of musical and dramatic approaches, there was actually a wonderfully complementary diversity to the project as a whole that reflected so many aspects of Northern Irish history, personality and culture. A lot of credit for allowing that to happen has to go to the NI Opera’s artistic director Oliver Mears for pulling this hugely ambitious work together and to the stage director Rachel O’Riordan, who met the considerable challenge of making one stage set suit five very different works, but also found the most effective means of putting each of them across in terms of mood and theatrical presentation.

The highest credit of all however must be given to Fergus Shiel and the Ulster Orchestra who brought these short intense works fully to life in all their rhythmic and lyrical complexity as well as their often difficult serial discordance, switching tone between one work and the next with scarcely a pause other than to adjust to the varied instrumental requirements of each piece. In the relatively small venue of the newly opened Belfast MAC, the audience were able to witness the intricacy of the orchestra’s performance of those arrangements, and it was impressive to behold. The intimacy of the venue (one hopes it will be used again for similarly smaller-scale and even local operatic works in the future) means that there is nowhere to hide any weaknesses, and in this respect the singing of such difficult works must also be judged to be of the highest order, with some fine new talent on display as well as the reliable strengths of Doreen Curran, Paul Carey Jones and Giselle Allen. I’ve yet to be disappointed by anything that the recently formed NI Opera have put on, but with the opening work of their second season, they continue to take on fresh new challenges. Their most ambitious project so far, NI Opera Shorts was another resounding success.