Giacomo Puccini - Madama Butterfly
Irish National Opera, 2019
Timothy Redmond, Ben Barnes, Celine Byrne, Julian Hubbard, Brett Polegato, Doreen Curran, Eamonn Mulhall, John Molloy, Niamh O'Sullivan, Rachel Croash, Brendan Collins, Robert McAllister, Kevin Neville, Cormac Lawlor
Bord Gáis Energy Theatre, Dublin - 28 March 2019
In his programme notes, director Ben Barnes quotes Woody Allen, "People marry and die. Pinkerton does not return" and follows it with the personal observation, "Would that he had never come in the first place". It's by no means a new idea to see Madama Butterfly as a condemnation of American political and cultural imperialism rather than just a romantic tragedy; the marriage of an American sailor to a naive Japanese child bride certainly invites that response to a modern audience. The director's observation however is a bold statement of intent all the same and I hoped to see that developed in the Irish National Opera's new production of Madama Butterfly. Barnes certainly followed through on that idea, not as boldly as he might have, but in an opera as popular as Madama Butterfly, it's perhaps wise not to stray too far from audience expectations.
To be fair, taking Madama Butterfly out of Japan is no minor adjustment. I've seen a lot - and I mean a lot - of Madama Butterflys in my time and quite a few updatings, but none have dared to dispense almost entirely with the pretty Japanese imagery of its Nagasaki setting. I say 'almost' however and that's because an Asian element is still apparent and pretty much essential to the purpose of the clash of both the romantic and cultural ideals. Director Ben Barnes sets the INO production to all intents and purposes in Vietnam in the 1950s/60s and makes a few minor modifications to the surtitles to hide the references to Japan and Nagasaki, even though the libretto remains unchanged.
The pan-Asian set design however doesn't depart too far from what you might expect to see on the stage in a production of Madama Butterfly, but it extends the range of the work considerably from the romantic delusions of one couple in Nagasaki. It also makes it easier to see it in terms of a critical look at American imperialism that essentially views Asians as all the same and ripe for exploitation for their own interests.
It's refreshing then to see characters wearing Chinese pointed bamboo hats and robes instead of kimonos and obis, even though the customs referred to in the libretto remain Japanese and the house still very much the traditional shoji style paper panel screens, but every effort is made to not rest on the standard imagery and ceremonial representations that are all too familiar in productions of Madama Butterfly. Credit should go to Libby Seward who shows great inventiveness in the choreography and colour of Act I, finding the flow and mood of the work perfectly and mirroring it in the arranging of the chorus, in little movements and gestures. It's visually splendid and makes the observations of character much more engaging than Act I usually is, particularly as I say, since the production is not terribly bold here with any overt political commentary.
For the most part then we had to make do with the singing, and when I say 'make do' I really mean just be absolutely floored by the quality of the cast and the beauty of the performances. There was more than enough here in the definition of the characterisation to make up for the lack of any apparent deeper purpose in the production. Celine Byrne, an international star only now getting the opportunity to perform back home in Ireland with the creation of INO last year, was simply stunning. She almost made singing Cio-Cio-San look easy, which is no mean feat, but that doesn't mean she coasted at all either. This was a heartfelt performance with intelligent phrasing and technique that let little insights into Butterfly's character show. Combined with a luxurious timbre, no harshness or strain evident, just a clear ringing rounded delivery, everything you could want from Puccini's tragic heroine is present here in an engaging and masterful performance.
There was no slacking or weaknesses anywhere else; it was as if everyone had to up their game to be on the same level as Celine Byrne. Julian Hubbard was a fine Pinkerton, a little neutral in characterisation, but sometimes it's necessary not to overstate Pinkerton as a 'villain' since he doesn't see himself that way (although it's annoying that audiences still insist on treating him as a pantomime character, booing the villain at the curtain call), but just let the work speak for itself. Brett Polegato was a wonderfully sonorous Sharpless and Doreen Curran's Suzuki was perfectly pitched in voice and character to complement Byrne's Cio-Cio San. There was plenty to 'make do' also in Eamonn Mulhall's Goro, John Molloy's Bonze and in the lovely chorus work. The INO really have an impressive pool of talent to draw upon here.
It's only during the Intermezzo between Act II and Act III that Ben Barnes really lets fly and hits home with the impact that up to then had been left to the singers to deliver. Projections onto the closed shoji screens of Butterfly's house show everyday people's lives in Asia being gradually overturned by American involvement in the East; politicians and soldiers seem oblivious to the reality and inhumanity of what takes place in Vietnam as bombs are dropped and villages are burnt. It's dropped in so suddenly without any prior notice that it's a bit jarring and doesn't fit well with what has come before. A few hints might have integrated this better into the production as a whole, but on the other hand the element of shock is just as effective and it actually doesn't seem heavy-handed (or at least not any more heavy-handed than Puccini's score, should you see it that way), and it opens up the work's dramatic scenes of betrayal and death on a much larger scale than it being just an isolated little incident of romantic tragedy.
I must admit that I sometimes get tired of the idea of going to see another Madama Butterfly, but that only lasts up to the moment that I hear the first few bars of the score and I am immediately gripped and transported by Puccini's genius and his ability to make this intimate little story so momentous. That magic works again under the conducting of Timothy Redmond, the RTÉ Concert Orchestra giving a balanced reading that shows no heavy-handedness either. When you get to the Humming Chorus, you know that the spell is working by how this moment commands absolute reverence on a popular and emotional level in a way that few other pieces of music or opera can achieve. The response at the conclusion of this Irish National Opera production shows that they successfully connected the heart of the work with the hearts of the audience in Dublin.
This production can now be viewed steaming on-line on the RTE Player.
Links: Irish National Opera
Robert O'Dwyer - Eithne
Opera Theatre Company, Dublin - 2017
Fergus Sheil, Orla Boylan, Gavan Ring, Robin Tritschler, Brendan Collins, Eamonn Mulhall, Imelda Drumm, John Molloy, Robert McAllister, Rachel Croash, Eoghan Desmond, Fearghal Curtis, Conor Breen
National Concert Hall, Dublin - 14th October 2017
Economies of scale and a troubled political history have prevented the idea of a national opera from ever really being able to establish a foothold in Ireland. It's only recently that steps have been taken to form a national opera company to replace Opera Ireland, one of the arts victims of the economic crisis that struck Ireland almost a decade ago. Irish National Opera doesn't officially come into being until 2018, but in the meantime a few of the component groups that will form the new company have been working hard to keep opera alive in the country. There has been a resurgence in contemporary opera commissions in recent years and now, quite thrillingly, there's been the rediscovery of one of the most important works in the history of Irish opera, Robert O'Dwyer's Eithne.
Eithne has the distinction of being the first full-scale opera composed in the Irish language. It was composed in 1909 by Robert O'Dwyer, who was born in Bristol of Irish parents, and the opera was last performed at the Gaiety theatre in Dublin in 1910. As the fate of Ireland was caught up in the subsequent years with the War of Independence and the Irish Civil War, O'Dwyer's Irish language opera was lost and only rediscovered when the orchestral score came up for auction in 2012. It was an occasion of some national pride then to have the opera - unheard for over 100 years - reconstructed, revived and performed once again in 2017 by the Opera Theatre Company. While Eithne is no lost masterpiece, it is nonetheless an important and even an impressive work, and it certainly impressed the audience who came to see in a one-off concert performance at the National Concert Hall in Dublin.
An unheard work by an unheard of composer, it was difficult to imagine beforehand what to expect from Eithne and just how it was going to sound. The period of composition and the subject based on Celtic mythology however gave a few important clues and indeed the few on-line rehearsal clips posted in advance suggested a lush post-Wagnerian romanticism. In the event, there is little that is Wagnerian or even Straussian in Eithne's scale or ambition, and the music itself isn't particularly Celtic sounding, although there is a fairy-tale element to the harp music and a folk element in some of the solo violin playing. It's the rhythms and sounds of the Irish language however that provides a more recognisable character for the folk legend of Eithne, aligning it more closely to Dvořák and the fairy-tale romantic character of Rusalka.
There is a recognisable connection with Die Zauberflote and Siegfried and a romantic element too in the heroic endeavours of Ceart to become the High King of Ireland. Based on the legend of Éan an cheoil bhinn (The bird of sweet music), the Irish language libretto for Eithne was composed by the noted academic and playwright Tomás Ó Ceallaigh. In the first half of the opera, characterised by rousing choral music, Ceart is unanimously acclaimed by the people to be the successor to the High King, but his half-brothers Neart and Art conspire against him, claiming that he is responsible for the killing of the king's favourite hound. Nuala, who has brought Ceart up since the death of his mother, intervenes on his behalf and, evoking the songs of the birds when she speaks, she convinces the King of the truth and inspires him even to forgive Neart and Art.
The bird's song is heard again in the second half of the opera, and it leads the King away from the hunt. Surrounded by maidens, Eithne appears and tells of her fate, that she and her mother (Nuala) have been held captive in a spell by her father the King of Tír na nÓg (the legendary Land of Youth in Irish folklore). Ceart steps forward to challenge the Guardian Spirit of Tír na nÓg and beating him he acquires a magical ring, sword and cloak that will help him defeat the King. In order to break the spell however, Ceart has other challenges to face and, proving his worth as a warrior, as a worthy husband for Eithne and, as the death of his father is announced, as the High King of Ireland.
Evidently, there's enough magic and drama in Eithne for it to be a fine stage spectacle, and perhaps one day we might get the opportunity to see it that way, but this first and only presentation of Robert O'Dwyer's rediscovered work was presented to the Dublin audience in concert performance, where it was recorded for a future CD release. Even in concert performance, this was an impressive way to experience the opera, as it gave great opportunity not only to hear the individual singers but the work of the large chorus - so prominent through - and the terrific playing of the RTÉ National Symphony Orchestra conducted by Fergus Sheil, giving the lush melodic musical qualities of the work central stage.
Despite the title of the opera being granted to Eithne, who only makes an appearance late in the opera, it was Robin Tritschler's Ceart who was unquestionably the star performance of the night. The tenor has a beautifully light lyrical tone that is reminiscent of Klaus Florian Vogt in one or two places but with a little more 'body'. A virtuous, heroic tone is required for Ceart - if not quite of the Heldentenor variety - and Tritschler delivered that in abundance. The role of Eithne has challenges, but not perhaps of the Wagnerian level either, and I thought Orla Boylan (who I last saw singing the big role of Turandot) was a little too large a voice for the role in that respect, and there was some wavering as she tried to fit to the lyrical flow. Boylan however certainly carried the romantic heroism of the role with all the essential Irish qualities that are necessary there in her voice.
There were other impressive performances in Irish-singing cast. John Molloy's smooth baritone boomed imperiously as the rumbling Giant, the Guardian Spirit of Tír na nÓg. Nuala too has a substantial presence in the first act, and singing along to the flute birdsong accompaniment, Imelda Drumm was absolutely captivating. Gavan Ring, who was instrumental in bringing Eithne back to the stage, sang the role of the High King of Ireland wonderfully and in full possession of the elevated status of the role. The heightened Irish legend qualities were boosted considerably by the chorus of the Opera Theatre Company, bringing the audience to its feet at the opera's epic conclusion. It now seems that Irish national opera not only as a future, but it now has a glorious past history to look back on as well.
Links: Opera Theatre Company, Irish National Opera, RTE webcast
George Frideric Handel - Acis and Galatea
Opera Theatre Company, Dublin - 2017
Peter Whelan, Tom Creed, Susanna Fairbairn, Eamonn Mulhall, Edward Grint, Andrew Gavin, Peter O'Reilly, Sinéad O'Kelly, Fearghal Curtis, Cormac Lawlor
Opera Platform - 11 April 2017
It certainly comes as a bit of a surprise and does initially seem a little jarring to find the mythological content of Handel's pastoral opera Acis and Galatea located in a little provincial Irish pub. In the Opera Theatre Company's 2017 production, Handel's fable opens with the nymphs and shepherds coming in from the fields for a quick half and then changing out of their work clothes to take part in a line-dance hoedown.
It's certainly not the first image that comes to mind when you think of nymphs and shepherds in the bucolic setting of a pastoral opera, but there's ample justification for it. Checking the definition on Google, it says that a pastoral is a work that portrays an idealised version of country life, and when you put it like that and apply it to an Irish setting, the connection not only seems obvious in an equivalent modern context, but the way that the tale plays out in this setting also serves to touch on the true spirit of the piece.
This is always a key point when it comes to bringing Handel to the modern opera stage, particularly in those pieces that are more choral or oratorio in format like Acis and Galatea. It's essential not to ironically poke fun at the easy target of its idealised sentiments, but it doesn't serve the works particularly well either to play them in some kind of kitsch notion of traditional period that a modern audience will find impossible to respond to in the way that they might have 300 years ago.
On the other hand, the idea of idealisation is at the heart of Acis and Galatea, but to make it meaningful, there has to be some basis for it in reality. Tom Creed's Irish setting isn't just modernisation for the sake of being clever, it finds a way to touch more deeply on the sentiments at the heart of the work and bring that across to the audiences on the Opera Theatre Company's Irish tour. It does it so well that there's every reason to believe that it can communicate that to a wider audience in its streamed broadcast on the Opera Platform.
Adjusting expectations, bringing a clear head to lofty ideals and rushes of emotions is very much what Acis and Galatea is about, but it's also about transforming reality or creating something greater out of it. For the nymphs and shepherds, it's about celebrating the end of the day in a song and a dance (and maybe a drink or two). The semi-divine nymph Galatea (here a barmaid, much the same thing after that transformative drink or two) is troubled by the far too lofty ideals she holds in her love for the shepherd Acis, and it needs some helpful intervention from Damon to caution both of them to have a little more restraint.
The same goes for the monstrous ogre Polyphemus (here a belligerent drunk), who thinks he can gain the love of Galatea by force. Again, Damon suggests that a more gentle approach might win a fair maid ("Would you gain the tender creature"). The reaction of Acis is perhaps over-solicitous ("Love sounds th' alarm") and again he is cautioned to be more moderate in his behaviour ("Consider, fond shepherd, how fleeting's the pleasure that flatters our hopes in pursuit of the fair"). It's to no avail, as an inebriated Polyphemus staggers in and clobbers him with a brick to the head ("crushed beneath a stone") in a barroom brawl.
Acis and Galatea is not just a morality tale that warns of giving excessive licence to the sentiments, it's more about recognising them - good and bad - and being able to transform them into something more noble. In this way, humans can aspire towards the divine, and even in death Acis is transformed into a fountain. Tom Creed's handling of this vital scene is critical to the success of the production and its overall message. The flashing lights of the emergency services outside the bar, the ambulance men working on the fatally injured man in the foreground all hit home the reality of the death of Acis, while the 'fountain' supplies his friends with a drink to his memory, the commemoration of which will hopefully serve to transform the lives of others.
Music and opera is also an essential element of the transformative experience, turning stories of love and tragedy into something instructive and ennobling, and that's where Handel comes in. Musically, Acis and Galatea is one of the composer's most beautiful works, all its richness compressed into a short work that if filled with memorable melodies and songs. In the context of the performance by the Irish Baroque Orchestra conducted by Peter Whelan, some of the flute playing even delightfully evokes a sense of traditional folk music, cementing the connection between the mythology and its relocation perfectly.
Paul O'Mahony's revolving set provides a lovingly detailed Irish pub interior, exterior and backroom for the cast to move about and give far more expression than you might expect from a work with little dramatic playing. The cast all take their roles well, with a soft gentleness of expression that is perfect for the overall sentiments of the work and its more down-to-earth reduction of the choral parts. Andrew Gavin's Damon is the gentle spirit of temperance that tries to moderate Edward Grint's Polyphemus - played perfectly as more of an awkward drunken fool than an evil monster. Susanna Fairbairn's Galatea and Eamonn Mulhall's Acis bring the same kind of measured dynamic to those roles, keeping them grounded in the realism that the production strives to achieve, while still matching the opera's aspirations to create something greater.
