Dvořák - Rusalka (Dublin, 2026)

Antonín Dvořák - Rusalka

Irish National Opera, 2026

Fergus Sheil, Netia Jones, Jennifer Davis, Ryan Capozzo, Ante Jerkunica, Michelle DeYoung, Giselle Allen, Rachel Croash, Sarah Richmond, Alexandra Urquiola, Benjamin Russell, Andrew Masterson, 

Bord Gáis Energy Theatre, Dublin - 22nd March 2026

I guess it's probably expected that commentators on opera should have something to say about Timothée Chalamet's views on the value and relevance of opera and ballet today, but I don't think anyone who has actually been to see an opera needs to be convinced that it is far from a dead art form, and probably in far better shape than the movie industry at the moment, certainly in terms of artistic standards and growing audiences. Every new production of an opera - even one that is centuries old - brings out something new, touches on modern day concerns, adds to our understanding of what it means to be human, have feelings and relate to the world around us. And when you have a creative team like Fergus Sheil and Netia Jones working on a production like the Irish National Opera's Rusalka... well, the mind truly is expanded.

All fairy-tales tend to have a moral or present a cautionary tale that touches on deep universal themes and Rusalka's are not difficult to identify, although it's a story that has taken on many different forms over the years in various European guises such as Undine, Melusine, Oceane and The Little Mermaid. Not only does each version or adaptation have its own take on the subject, the universality of the theme is one that each person can relate to from their own experience. As an opera Dvořák's Rusalka is perhaps richer than most, the musical score inviting many ways to interpret its meaning and draw out new ideas. Not all of them need to be as ambitiously transgressive as Martin Kušej's 2010 Bavarian State Opera production or Stefan Herheim's at La Monnaie in 2012, but this particular opera seems to invite imaginative and engaging responses in its productions.

We certainly get that in the extraordinary visual feast created by Netia Jones for the Irish National Opera's 2026 production. Jones might not have any unusual or original take on the subject - opinions will differ on that obviously depending on what expectations you bring with you to the theatre - but instead finds another way to approach and draw out the themes, seeking to make them less magically 'fairy-tale' and more rooted in reality. Being rooted in reality doesn't mean that it has to adhere to naturalistic imagery or a straightforward narrative line either, but rather she presents it in abstract terms that connect with the work's underlying sentiments. The INO production is definitely very much in the abstract and yet it does invite engagement, although there were certainly those around me in the audience who seemed to be less willing to engage with those ideas.

Despite the extravagant sets, creative lighting and stunning projection effects that I've seen Jones produce before (Philip Glass's Orphée and Brian Irvine's Least Like the Other), the INO production bases the story in simple but more familiar recognisable locations that reflect the underlying purpose of the work, if not exactly in any naturalistic fashion. Rusalka is less about being a mermaid who wants to become human than in essence being a coming-of-age story. The first scene in Act I then envisions the water nymphs as children in school uniforms, the watery element suggested by a stage-spanning network of pipes that they wrap themselves around like in a playground, monitored by the plumber/janitor Vodník. He's not so much a sinister water goblin than a man who speaks with the wisdom of age and the experience of disappointment, warning the girls not to dream of growing up too soon.

Rusalka of course refuses to listen and Jones chooses to depict her transformation through the witch Ježibaba as a surgeon employing plastic surgery so that Rusalka can fit into the glamour of the 'grown up' world that she is enchanted by (Vodník taking every opportunity to tell us and Rusalka that we should have listened to his warning). In one of the many extravagant scenes in the production (just to mention in passing the remarkable visuals of the moon in eclipse for the 'Song to the Moon' in Act I, the 3D-like projections for the scene in the forest and the impressive kitchen - all of them suitably scaled-up for the beauty and glamour of the world seen through the eyes of Rusalka), the dances that take place on a chess board reflect the young woman's inability to comprehend the sophisticated social interactions and moves that the Prince, the Foreign Princess and the other guests are able to navigate and control more easily. It's made perfectly clear that Rusalka is not ready for and does not belong to this world.

Aside from presenting jaw-dropping visuals - Netia Jones acting as director, set & costume designer and even the creation of the superb video projections - the production succeeds in establishing the right mood for each scene, allowing the drama and characters to play out within that without introducing any extraneous elements or eccentric touches. It places you within a magical world - it places you in Dvořák's magical musical world - enthralled, not feeling the need to seek to interpret what the director is trying to tell you. If you are familiar with the tale and wish to do so, you can carry over thoughts, impressions and ideas from other productions, each revealing a new facet, or you can relate it to your own impressions and experience. There is certainly the possibility of seeing the opera not only reflecting Rusalka's loss of innocence, but also the rapidly changing modern world itself being a great deal more complicated for a young person to navigate.

Essentially that's at the heart of what the work is about, or at least one main theme, and that's what came across here. It's perhaps most pointedly made in the 'plastic surgery' scene, showing Rusalka rejecting the purity of her nature and the purity of nature, for an artificial and superficial glamour world that doesn't make any sense or offer any true value. It's even reflected in the character of the Prince, who is too often presented in a superficial way, the lure by which Rusalka is drawn away from her true self and finds the truth of human nature in deceit and betrayal. In this production - perhaps something to do with the singing of Ryan Capozzo, perhaps the nostalgic tug of the score under Fergus Sheil - the prince has a more human role to play; a counterpart to Rusalka's desire to leave behind her childhood, his desire for Rusalka is an attraction to and longing for the beauty of pure innocence, but a stark warning that once lost it is impossible to regain.

The singing performances are of course key to keeping you engaged with what each of the characters are living through, and with Jennifer Davis you are with Rusalka unwaveringly all the way. The opera was sung impressively in the original Czech which is very much a part of the character and tone of the work (Davis becoming something of an Irish Dvořák specialist having sung in Armida in Wexford in 2022), but the direction plays an equally important part in the human expression of the characters. Both aspects were managed brilliantly not just by Davis but, as indicated above, allowing Ryan Capozzo to let you see another side to the Prince. Giselle Allen even lets you sympathise to an extent with the Foreign Princess - again too often merely a cipher - or at least understand where she is coming from. Sure, she has a mercenary side - a necessary survival quality in this grown-up world, but she shows some self-respect in having little time for the Prince and his equivocations - get with the programme or go to hell, she literally tells him. Likewise, the excellent Ante Jerkunica overcame the rather repetitive admonitions of Vodník to add meaning and poignancy to each utterance as the inevitability of the tragedy unfolded.

Just as vital to keeping you engaged rather than puzzled is the musical interpretation under Fergus Sheil. Rusalka has the potential to be a little bombastic if its romantic sweeps are not handled with delicacy. No mean feat reining in an orchestra of this scale, but Sheil is right at home here with his ability to marshal the vast orchestral forces for this work and gets all the moods, pace and dynamic right for this production. It's gushily romantic in places, robustly Wagnerian in others, sensitive and moody where it needs to be, hitting those punchy crescendos in the right places, working with the delivery of the singers and the visuals to achieve maximum impact. When you have such beautiful music to 'illustrate' those deep emotions, feelings and experiences, it's impossible not to be swept along. I'm sure even Timothée would have been impressed.

External links: Irish National Opera

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

Strauss - Salome (Dublin, 2023)

Richard Strauss - Salome

Irish National Opera, 2024

Fergus Sheil, Bruno Ravella, Sinéad Campbell Wallace, Vincent Wolfsteiner, Imelda Drumm, Tómas Tómasson, Alex McKissick, Doreen Curran, Julian Close, Lukas Jakobski, Christopher Bowen, Andrew Masterson, William Pearson, Aaron O'Hare, Eoghan Desmond, Wyn Pencarreg, Eoin Foran, Kevin Neville, Leanne Fitzgerald

Bord Gáis Energy Theatre, Dublin - 12th March 2024

Although the musical and performance standards remained very high, I was left with the feeling that of late the Irish National Opera productions and musical choices were playing a little on the safe side in recent years. As I noted at the end of my review of La bohème however, the promise of Salome - one of the most controversial and groundbreaking operas of the 20th century - suggested that they were ready to take up the challenge of their adventurous earlier years and challenge the audience at the same time. There isn't much more challenging than a blood-soaked woman making love to a decapitated head to the discordant notes of Strauss's thunderous finale of Salome. You should be left semi-stunned at that conclusion, and soprano Sinéad Campbell Wallace and the INO's chief musical director Fergus Sheil made sure on that account.

Thankfully however, the INO at least avoided the advance promotional material's tenuous and opportunistic attempt to portray the opera as "a royal, Succession-like power struggle". There are certainly strong opposing individual positions in Oscar Wilde's Victorian-era drama, and much that can be left open to interpretation, but drenched in decadent poetic imagery of the Symbolists, the principle power struggle in Salome is between the spiritual side of humanity and the physical, sensual side. That's indeed how it is played out in this production, the focus and attention of that internal battle played out in the exchanged between Salome and Jochanaan/John the Baptist, but Herod's intervention and position is also essential to the dynamic and that is also given due attention in the drama, the music and Bruno Ravella's direction of this production.

The struggle as it is then does not need a biblical context, and indeed the entire description of the story amounts to little more than a couple of lines in the Bible. So other than the names of the principal figures there is no visual indication that this take place in biblical Judea. The terrace of Herod's palace designed by Leslie Travers is an impressive semi dome of concrete with a semi circular array of steps leading down to a tree at the front and centre of the stage, the tree in full glorious bloom surrounded by a small circular verdant garden. Herod's guards all wear contemporary grey camouflage military uniforms and carry guns. It's a beautifully abstract set, one designed to draw focus, using bold symbolist imagery in the style of the work without being slavish to the stage directions. The whole mood that it evokes is enhanced with superb lighting and use of shadows.

Some productions of this work tend nowadays to focus on the corruption of Herod's court as a way of understanding or justifying the corrupting influence it would exert on the young woman Salome. She is clearly indulged by her stepfather/uncle and lusted after incestuously by Herod, the drama making no bones about. There is little shown of the excesses of Herod's party, which remains firmly behind a locked door (unlike the recent French production for example). In this production you have to take Salome on her own terms. She is foremost a spoilt child, bored with what conventional privileges the family's riches have to offer. She longs for forbidden fruit - one of the images used in Wilde's wild extravagant and florid writing - and like Wilde himself - the writing almost premonitory of what would come - she is willing to pay the price for stepping outside the boundaries of what is acceptable in this religious and superstitious society detached from or denying certain human impulses.

That of course is in the erotic lust that transforms into a bloodlust for the prophet Jochanaan. The production highlights the battle that rages between them, the battle between his call for her spiritual salvation from the sinful family she is part of and her struggle with her dark sexual desires. Those are amply demonstrated in their exchanges, in Salome's petulant turns between pleading and rejection, but Bruno Ravello finds other visual ways to express this and enhance it. The blossoming tree that covers the pit raised above the stage to reveal a circular platform with shallow water. More water rains down from its roots on Salome and Jochanaan, which the prophet tries to use it as a baptism, but Salome is just drenched in lust.

The Dance of the Seven Veils can and should be used to further enhance expression of sexual desire and how it can be employed, but too often it tends to be underplayed. Not so here. What is even more unusual about how this production makes use of the dance is that it is a rare occasion where Salome actually dances provocatively for Herod. Sinéad Campbell Wallace's movements feel natural and sinuous, using the whole of the stage, drawing close to and away from Herod who attempts to remove her drenched clothing. The use of shadows are also effectively used to draw and hold attention to those moves. Salome reaches the climax of the dance again splashing in the shallow water, spraying it around with her hair. It's a well-choreographed dance that makes its point at this critical juncture in the opera.

There is perhaps no deep analysis of the themes or the character of Salome that others have explored, and the work is certainly open to interesting interpretations, but leaving the work to speak for largely for itself is another option and it can be just as effective. The focus here is on the essential and the essential is the exceptionally good singing performance of Sinéad Campbell Wallace and the musical direction of Fergus Sheil conducting the INO orchestra. Campbell Wallace is every bit as impressive as should be, commanding attention in every movement, gesture and note, embodying Salome's unapologetic lust, unflinching corruption and blindness to all else but her object of desire. It is indeed a love that leaves a bitter taste in the mouth. Tómas Tómasson is an excellent Jochanaan, but there is a strong case for Herod being the true opposition that Salome is rebelling and testing her power against, and that is very much down to a superb performance from Vincent Wolfsteiner. Alex McKissick also made a strong impression as the young Syrian captain, Narraboth.

For me personally, the greatest pleasure was in hearing Strauss's remarkable score performed by INO orchestra under Fergus Sheil at the Bord Gáis Energy Theatre in Dublin. This is how you want to hear what for me is the greatest opera work of the 20th century performed. There are other many other great works, but inspired by the extraordinary subject matter, Richard Strauss was the first to push music in a new direction that permitted further breaking of conventions and taboos in music. Sheil's attention to the detail is impressive, the music by turns seductive and brutal, dark and discordant, the conductor making full use of the thunderous dynamic that Strauss employs with an orchestra of this size. Combined with the singing performances and the stage production, this Salome had all the nuance and drama that this outrageous and shocking opera demands. The INO are back on full form.

External links: Irish National Opera

Beethoven - Fidelio (Dublin, 2021)

Ludwig van Beethoven - Fidelio

Irish National Opera, 2021

Fergus Sheil, Annabelle Comyn, Sinéad Campbell Wallace, Robert Murray, Daniel Sumegi, Brian Mulligan, Kelli-Ann Masterson, Dean Power, David Howes, Jacek Wislocki, Matthew Mannion

The Gaiety Theatre, Dublin - 7th November 2021

Fidelio is very much an opera shaped by the time in which it was written and the difficulties the composer had in bringing it to the stage. The composition of Beethoven's only opera was a notoriously long and difficult process, going through several different versions and an ignominious debut in 1805 that was considered a failure. Little of those initial problems are evident now in whichever version is produced, whether as Fidelio or its earlier incarnation as Leonore. Its reputation as an opera relies on it being Beethoven's only opera to some extent, which is no small matter of course, but there are indisputably greater qualities evident in the work's themes. Those themes are related to the period when Vienna was occupied by French forces, but they can still have powerful resonance and meaning today if you can get over some of the work's problems. I don't think the Irish National Opera were entirely able to do that in their current production.

Fidelio is purest Beethoven, a composition that rates with the very best of his work, but the operatic conventions do age the work somewhat, and as opera was clearly not somewhere the composer was entirely comfortable, it doesn't really strike out any new or original ground. The libretto, one of the main problems with the composition that needing continuous rework and revision over its development, has some opera-comique elements and dry recitative that don't sit well alongside the rather more serious main subject, which is that of a story inspired by French Revolutionary ideals of a prisoner being held captive in secret and treated horrifically in captivity without trial.

There are ways to bring these two stories together. Evidently they are connected in the fact that the main character Fidelio - who is the object of the prison warder's daughter Marzelline's attentions, and consequently the love rival of Jaquino - is actually a woman, Leonore, the wife of the prisoner Florestan. She is seeking to find and rescue her husband from the prison, despite his existence and presence there not being recognised, as he is being kept there is secret as an act of personal revenge by Don Pizarro. With word of the prison governor due to visit, Pizarro wants to cover up his crimes by executing the prisoner being kept in the deepest darkest dungeon, the man already practically dead from starvation.

The element that notionally holds the two parts together in its original incarnation is the theme of married love; of a wife who will go to desperate lengths to save her husband from an unjust fate for the love that lies between them. There are of course many other aspects, both political and humanistic - and even proto-feminist - that can be drawn from this situation, from the tyranny of Pizarro's injustice and the determination of Florestan to suffer the consequences of his belief in truth and freedom, but the rather domestic and conventional rescue opera situations involving a woman disguised as a man leads to some forced comedy in the opening act that really does little for the work. If this were Mozart, those themes can feed though to a more rounded character development and expression of sentiments that deepens the themes. Here in Fidelio, it just seems conventional and perfunctory. 

Or at least in as far as you can ever find anything in Beethoven conventional or perfunctory. There is much to admire even in the opening scenes of the opera, which has some beautiful arias in there amidst the rather stiff recitative and the formality of the musical arrangements and romantic complications. If there is any real purpose to the opera revealed in these scenes aside from the consideration of what is important in a marriage and what is not (and a same-sex marriage would be one thing that would never have been considered in the original), it's in the way that the opera begins to really define what is and what is not important, establishing areas of light and shade, lightness and darkness, captivity and freedom, and viewing them as two sides of the same coin. Even behind the ordinary everyday matters there can be an underlying darkness. Fidelio's great achievement is in showing how even with that, hope can still exist and not be extinguished.

There are clear references to that in several scenes of the first act, not least in the brief release of the prisoner from their dark cells to spend a moment in the sunlight and fresh air. The prisoners chorus is simply a glorious moment, the gross inhumanity of what they have endured overshadowed/enlightened by a small act of kindness that means so much. It's a beautifully expressed sentiment and it is hope that holds it together; the belief and indeed even holding onto the memory that there is something better out there, something that it is not beyond reach.

Directing the Irish National Opera production Annabelle Comyn rightly focusses on light/dark and hope as being the humanistic heart of the work and its importance is no more clearly brought out than at the start of Act II. There is a noticeable shift in Beethoven's music, the heaviness that has been gradually alluded to now becoming inescapable as we are taken to the dark depths of the cell where Florestan is being detained, bound in chains, starving to death, about to be executed. All hope is almost snuffed out and yet we see the almost dead Florestan crawl towards a thin sliver of light that somehow manages to penetrate the utter darkness of this dank hole. It's chilling and a heart soaring moment at the same time.

The greatest expression of this human ability to endure and strive to hold onto hope and the fight for truth and justice is of course in the singing. In Florestan's voice we sense that purpose and determination, much as we have already seen it to a similar extent in the bravery of his wife Leonore's actions. It's interesting that the same qualities were evident in the performance of Satyagraha that I saw in London last week, about how it becomes possible not to submit to despair when you know you have truth and right on your side. Comparing Glass with Beethoven might raise eyebrows, but the same principle applies; the meaning and its ability to reach out to an audience is expressed through the music and through the human voice much more so than the dramatic presentation.

Fortunately, Beethoven's music - long laboured over to achieve just such an effect - and the performance of it under Fergus Sheil manage to get this across superbly at the Gaiety Theatre in Dublin on the opening night of this production. So too did the singing, with notably fine performances from Robert Murray as Florestan and Sinéad Campbell Wallace as Leonore. Kelli-Ann Masterson also stood out as Marzelline, but all the singing performances were excellent, finding the truth to their characters situation even if the libretto, the English translation of the recitative and the delivery of it left something to be desired.

This is something that the director never managed to get to grips with. The fact that the opera was sung in German and the recitative spoken in English wasn't really a problem, that was an easy enough switch to make. The way it was delivered however was completely lacking in any naturalistic intonation and it just contributed to the early scenes feeling inauthentic and lacking any real drama or emotion. The set designs didn't particularly help. They were basic and functional in the presentation of a relatively modern prison or containment facility - a computer screen, the prisoners wearing orange jumpsuits - but there could have been much more done to make this relatable and relevant to contemporary struggles for truth, freedom and justice.

Putting aside what it wasn't or what it maybe should have been, the little touches and emphases of light and dark were enough to win over an appreciative Dublin audience to the brilliance of Fidelio as an opera and highlight the important expression of humanistic qualities within it. If the production was lacking and didn't manage to address the dialogue/acting weaknesses that remain hazardous in this particular opera, the musical performances and the singing were nonetheless of the usual high standard we have come to expect from the Irish National Opera.

Links: Irish National Opera

Irvine - Least Like the Other (Dublin, 2021)

Brian Irvine & Netia Jones - Least Like the Other

Irish National Opera, 2021

Fergus Sheil, Netia Jones, Amy Ní Fhearraigh, Stephanie Dufresne, Ronan Leahy, Aoife Spillane-Hinks

O'Reilly Theatre, Dublin - 17 September 2021

One thing you could be sure of in an opera by Brian Irvine was that was never going to be anything conventional about it. I've seen the Belfast composer's work performed in a number of ways, in orchestral commissions for the BBC and Ulster Orchestra, in jazz improvisations with his own ensemble and his uncategorisable thrash classical improvisation work 13 Vices with Jennifer Walshe. A short opera piece that he did as part of a NI Opera Shorts commission in 2012 might have suggested the direction of his first full length opera, but the title Least Like the Other seems to apply to just as much to Brian Irvine as the subject of his new opera.

If however there is anyone in contemporary music that Irvine can be compared to, it's maybe Gerald Barry. There same sense of adventure, of a drama delivered at a furious pace, a determination not to accept limitations or conventions, but whereas Barry can appear frivolous - when in fact his operas are highly complex, considered and perfectly attuned to the content - there is at least no sense that there is any room for frivolity in this opera's subject of Rosemary Kennedy. Rosemary is one of the lesser known siblings in the Kennedy family, but there is a good reason for that, and it's the choice of subject that undoubtedly brings out a wide variety of music and theatrical techniques from a composer delving into the dark unknown.

Perhaps the only way Least Like the Other: Searching for Rosemary Kennedy can be compared to classic opera is in the subject being that of a woman at odds with the world around her, at odds through no choice of her own with conventional social expectations in a largely - totally - patriarchal system. And, like the great Italian operas, the end is inevitably a tragic one. Born in 1918, Rosemary Kennedy, the third of the Kennedy siblings and sister of John F. Kennedy, could have been expected to have had a better start in life and more opportunities in the early to mid-twentieth century, but even aside from her being born with a disability, her path through life would still be curtailed and even destroyed by outside factors and social pressures.

Rosemary's troubles and certainly the most damaging factor on her life began at birth and even that can be attributed to the prevailing social and patriarchal order. The doctor was late to arrive at her birth, so her mother Rose was told to hold child in until he arrived otherwise he would not be paid for delivery. Due to a lack of oxygen in birth canal, Rosemary was born intellectually disabled. At the age of 23 she was subjected to a lobotomy, a new technique developed by neurologist Walter Freeman, as an attempted cure for her increasingly difficult behaviour. As a result she was left with capacity of a 2 year old, unable to walk or speak. She would spend the next 57 years of her life in a convent, removed from the Kennedy family.

As that also meant that she was removed from society, there is very little documentary record of Rosemary's life. Irvine's approach to this subject then is defined to some extent by the lack of source material, but it is certainly not limited by it. Working with theatre and opera director Netia Jones, the collaboration manages to bring the full horror of the story to life, as well as casting a critical eye on the kind of society that allows such things to take place. Least Like the Other turns out to be one of those works where music and theatre come together to create a narrative that goes beyond mere dramatic representation.

Essentially, it would be difficult in any case to have a glamorous soprano or mezzo-soprano represent Rosemary Kennedy. There is only one singing voice in the opera but the singer doesn't play Rosemary as much as provides a focal point for the pressures placed on her by the system, her family, religion, social expectations, and as a woman being generally submissive to the needs of men. She is almost a Not-Rosemary, the negation of the personality by those around her, by the social and family pressures around her, which are vividly played out in a number of scenes.

The opera might only have one singer, along with two actors and a voice-over narrator, but it also has music and theatre. The medical texts detailing lobotomy aims and procedures as a cure for the feeble minded and as a tool to control the criminality in the lower classes, the aggrandising speeches by Freeman and the autobiographical extracts from Rosemary's mother all convey the shock and horror for the primitive views on child rearing and treatment of mental illness, but Irvine's music and his writing for the voice - by turns insistent, elegiac and furious - allows you to feel it as it would be experienced by someone going through it; It's not the singer who is Rosemary Kennedy, it's the audience.

Although she lived a long life after the botched and crude surgery she was subjected to, it's at the point where Rosemary is completely deprived of having any control over her faculties or volition that Irvine and Jones close the story. Rummaging through the drawers of her life, everything is strewn across the stage as the music reaches a level of feverish activity, with strobe lighting, and the pre-recorded music by the INO orchestra spread across the theatre in 16-track surround. After that there we are left with an empty stage, with projections showing a body moving gently in a swimming pool to a slow piano accompaniment. Quiet, calm, empty, Rosemary - who loved to swim - is gone, at peace, a mind lost.

First presented at the Galway Festival in 2019 to great critical acclaim, further performances of Least Like the Other planned for 2020 were inevitably cancelled due to the pandemic and lockdown, so it was exciting to have the opportunity to see it in Dublin at the start of the new 2021/22 Irish National Opera season, even in the socially distanced seating of the O'Reilly Theatre. It didn't disappoint. The necessity of a pre-recorded score conducted by Fergus Sheil was used to the advantage of theatrical presentation, and was it played with such intensity, including improvising musicians, that it was virtually impossible to tell that it wasn't being played live.

Soprano Amy Ní Fhearraigh, singing on alternate nights to mezzo-soprano Naomi Louise O'Connell, was certainly singing live and had the technical and emotional range to take on the incredibly challenging role of not just Rosemary, but essentially singing the whole 75 minute opera. That's to take nothing away from the importance of the actors, the delivery of the texts and the whole theatrical presentation in a striking and impressive set design created by director Netia Jones. With Irvine's score, this was a completely immersive and almost gut-wrenching experience, music, singing and dramatic presentation locking together as it should in opera, but even more importantly here with no defined characters and no straightforward dramatic narrative to create a complete, thoughtful and moving operatic experience.

Links: Irish National Opera

Rossini - La Cenerentola (Dublin, 2019)

Gioachino Rossini - La Cenerentola

Irish National Opera, 2019

Fergus Sheil, Orpha Phelan, Tara Erraught, Andrew Owens, Rachel Croash, Niamh O'Sullivan, Graeme Danby, Riccardo Novaro, David Oštrek

Bord Gáis Energy Theatre - 11 November 2019

Rossini's La Cenerentola departs from the familiar traditional Cinderella story in a number of key areas. There's no there's no fairy godmother, no magic pumpkin coach and mice coachmen, there's not even a lost slipper, but in no respect could you say that Rossini's opera lacks magic. To state the obvious it's in Rossini's music as well as in the fairy-tale romance, in the tale's moral of kindness and goodness being its own reward. Rossini unquestionably makes this come to life, but that doesn't mean it can't have a helping hand in the stage directions.

Since the moral is timeless, there's no reason however why La Cenerentola needs to be done in fairy-tale period costume. It could work just as well in an adventurous modern day setting (as in Opera North's entertaining production), although perhaps not so much in a "real-world" setting. Orpha Phelan, directing her first production for Irish National Opera, decides to embrace the fairy-tale side of the work, but she does so in a way that plays to the opera and the story's inner life, which is its belief in the power of imagination.

It's by no means an original idea to set a fairy-tale inside a book, but it's a nice effect that works with the nature of Cinderella, the fold-out house set of the first Act attesting to the simplicity and poverty of the situation Cinderella finds herself in; a servant to Don Magnifico and her demanding step-sisters, who despite the grandness of the family name and their pretensions have hit upon hard times. Cinderella however, when she gets a moment's peace from the ministrations imposed on her, finds her escape in her books, sitting in a corner reading classic tales of romance and adventure.

Orpha Phelan uses the opera's overture to give the audience a glimpse into the reasons for her retreating into a dream world by showing us something of the tragic circumstances of her personal background. As I said when I saw the Wexford Festival Opera's production of another Rossini short opera two weeks ago - L'Inganno Felice (featuring another unjustly mistreated young woman in similar circumstances), Rossini's overtures are just too good to waste and Phelan directs a lovely opening that also takes in scenes and figures from all the classic fairy tales that Cinderella escapes into; Sleeping Beauty, Red Riding Hood, Puss in Boots.

It's a theme that is expanded on further and impressively when the cardboard book is wheeled off the stage and the Prince's palace is shown to be filled with oversize books of classic stories, many with an Irish connection, from Yeats, Wilde and Joyce to Hans Christian Andersen and Charles Perrault, from Treasure Island to Clara Louise Burnham's The Right Princess. If you thought that the set for Act I was a little basic, it was just so that set designer Nicky Shaw could make an even greater impression in Act II, the glorious set showing that the opera in this production is all about the power of storytelling and the imagination, with characters escaping from the books and running around the stage as Cinderella's ability to realise her dream falls into place.

Cinderella's dream however is not necessarily to marry a prince but to be loved and respected and to be able to feel part of a family, no matter how cruel and mean her own are to her. It's the dream of a better world where kindness and fairness is rewarded or is its own reward. It's not a deep philosophy, a little bit utopian and not entirely realistic about human nature (although to be fair, the Magnificos show no desire to reform or accept Cenerentola as one of their own), but we can dream. What would we do if we couldn't dream or didn't have books (and opera) to make it a better place?

You can't ask for more from La Cenerentola than to get that idea across and it's done wonderfully in the INO production, not least in Fergus Shiels' wonderful elegant run through Rossini's delightful, beautiful score. The stage direction of the performances was superb, never overplaying or exaggerating the comedy, but allowing the essential human side of it to come through. As Cenerentola, Tara Erraught is back home again this season after debuting the INO's inaugural production (The Marriage of Figaro) and we're fortunate to get the opportunity to see her over here when she is in demand in Europe and New York. She handles the demands of a Rossini mezzo-soprano exceptionally well.

It's also a pleasure to welcome American tenor Andrew Owens to Dublin. He is outstanding as the Prince, Don Ramiro, a perfect voice for Rossini and bel canto, lovely Italianate phrasing with real steel and volume behind those top notes. For all the challenges faced by the principals, La Cenerentola is an ensemble piece really with rapid delivery, comic timing and interaction that places demands on Rachel Croash and Niamh O'Sullivan as Clorinde and Thisbe, Graeme Danby as Don Magnifico and particularly Riccardo Novaro as Don Ramiro's squire Dandini who gets a bit above himself and has to take all the attentions of the step sisters. That's hard work. In the context of the literary nature of the production it was also a nice idea to have David Oštrek as the tutor/philosopher Alidoro acting as a kind of author/narrator, directing or scripting the outcome. There's no question that the whole affair of INO's La Cenerentola was very well directed towards a successful outcome.

Links: Irish National Opera

Verdi - Aida (Dublin, 2018)

Giuseppe Verdi - Aida

Irish National Opera, 2018

Fergus Sheil, Michael Barker-Caven, Monica Zanettin, Stefano La Colla, Imelda Drumm, Ivan Inverardi, Manfred Hemm, Graeme Danby, Rachel Goode, Conor Breen

Bord Gáis Energy Theatre, Dublin - 29 November 2018

Aida doesn't do subtle, but to be frank war doesn't do subtle either and that is essentially the theme and the challenge of presenting what is the peak of Verdi's late period operas. The trick is not to let the grand opera bombast and spectacle overwhelm the love story narrative, and to not let either distort the deeper meaning in the work. I'm not convinced that the Irish National Opera succeed entirely on either of those fronts, but they certainly are aware of the operas pitfalls and do their best to overcome them and in the process deliver an ambitious and powerful account of the work.

The biggest distraction to be contended with in Aida is often the representation of ancient Egypt with its pyramids and obelisks, robes and costumes giving it a remote aspect that removes it from any kind of reality. Michael Barker-Caven aims for a more abstract representation of what all that glamour and spectacle really means in terms of the wielding and exercise of power. Joe Vaněk's set and costume designs manage to retain quite a bit of the iconic imagery of ancient Gods and mysticism, giving it more of a masonic quality in this Irish National Opera production.

I'm not sure there's ever any acceptable rationale however for having mimes in an opera production, and we actually have three of them here adding to what is a complicated staging operating on a number of levels with lots of extra detail taking place on the sides and in projections. It does tend to take away from the traditional focus and narrative progression of the work, but I can live with that and so too apparently could the audience at the Bord Gáis Energy Theatre in Dublin who rose in rapturous response to the performance at the end.

The love story between Aida and Radamès might have been lost to some extent, but in a way that's the point. While these characters are trying to follow their hearts, war, race, duty and nationalism all create divisions and overwhelm any human considerations. Even Amneris is a victim, trapped by the social order that she lives in, part of a war machine that crushes any individual desires. Neither were the anti-war, anti-religious sentiments over-emphasised however, but rather just additional factors reminding you of how those with wealth and privilege are also trapped within the restrictive boundaries that they uphold.

Avoiding the bigger (heavier-handed) picture, the INO production instead focussed on little details that are more often overlooked. Far too many to take in or even comprehend as fitting into the overall narrative picture, but they contributed to the overall impact that it is necessary to achieve. It's about using war and nationalism as a weapon to control and win people over to the idea of blind obedience, making them nice little consumers, distracted by the lure of glamorous clothes, wealth and mindless entertainment. What is lost is also suggested in the more intimate details of Aida's longing for her homeland, for the destruction of nature (soft breezes, grassy hills, virgin forests) that unbridled capitalism and war bring.

So instead of the usual pomp and ceremony in Act III we had Chippendale-like dancers performing for the well-dressed women and pompom-waving cheerleaders for the brave troops returning after massacring the Ethiopian enemies. Everywhere TV cameras chose to show the images the media and the establishment want you to see, one that supports their own interests, ambitions and incursions, one that promotes it as being for the benefit of the people. This is an Aida that speaks of the world we know today without having to make the point in any blunt or heavy-handed manner.

Some of the multitude of ideas worked better than others, but it was most successful and had the most impact when it chimed with Verdi's music. When heard in this context, without it having to support kitsch spectacle and hackneyed costumes, when it supports rather the themes of bowing unquestioningly to the power and influence, Verdi's incredible music shows its true qualities. Fergus Sheil controlled its inherent power well, rising in force as the work progressed, working hand-in-hand with all the detail that was going on on the stage rather than aiming for the big sweep, allowing the score to assert its own undeniable force. Sinead Hayes ensured that the choral arrangements were just perfect (the song of the Priestesses, 'Possente Ftha' just mesmerising), and the overall result was impressive.

Even so, all these musical qualities would be to little avail if the strength of human love didn't arise out of it all as the important factor. In pure narrative terms it's all a bit melodramatic, but Barker-Caven ensured that the characterisation was strong enough to match the sentiments expressed in Verdi's musical writing for the voice. And, despite some worrying set-backs announced before the performance on the 29th November, that was very well catered for with Monica Zanettin and Stefano La Colla having to step in at very short notice for the two principals Orla Boylan and Gwyn Hughes Jones.

How they managed to fit a new Aida and Radamès into such a complicated stage production with elaborate choreography was simply incredible. Both Zanettin and La Colla took maybe five minutes to settle into the roles but after that it was a seamless transition, both rising to the vocal challenges and bringing the necessary warmth and character to the roles. Actually, it might have been more difficult to carry-off if the production didn't have Imelda Drumm in the role of Amneris. She was everything you want an Amneris to be, the driving force behind the human conflicts, but one whose predicament and loss also elicits a considerable degree of sympathy.

Links: Irish National Opera

O'Dwyer - Eithne (Dublin, 2017)

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