Karlsson - Melancholia (Stockholm, 2023)

Mikael Karlsson - Melancholia

Royal Swedish Opera, 2023

Andrea Molino, Sláva Daubnerová, Lauren Snouffer, Anne Sofie von Otter, Rihab Chaieb, Ola Eliasson, Jens Persson Hertzman, Johan Edholm, Mikael Stenbaek, Anton Textorius, Klas Hedlund

ARTE Concert - 2nd November 2023 

I don't envy any composer - and to be honest can't even understand their motivation - for choosing to make an opera based on a fairly recent film. It's not that it's necessarily a bad idea in itself; cinema is a valid source of inspiration to opera and theatre directors and Kryzsztof Warlikowski and Ivo Van Hove in particular have drawn on movie and film techniques for some excellent productions. The challenge of making an opera based on Lars von Trier's Melancholia however is considerable. Since the original soundtrack of the film heavily featured Wagner's Tristan und Isolde, how would a composer put that out of his head while approaching a new musical version? But more to the point, does it even need to be made into an opera when the successful film is readily accessible?

Well the truth is that you could pose the same question to Lars Von Trier, since as a filmmaker he has followed - like many - in the footsteps of Andrei Tarkovsky. That influence has been obvious throughout his career, in the visual style of his earlier films, and Melancholia bears more than a passing resemblance in tone with Nostalghia and the apocalyptic subject matter of The Sacrifice. Von Trier nonetheless has managed to establish his own vision, and Melancholia proved to be one of the director's best films up to that point, one where he didn't need to court controversy for attention. The discovery of a hitherto unknown planet on a crash course for Earth as a metaphor for a young woman with mental health problems facing a devastating breakdown on the day of her wedding was a powerful one, related one supposes to the director's own mental health issues. "Melancholia is on her warpath".

It's a powerful subject, but there is no reason a composer couldn't bring out another dimension to the subject, particularly when it doesn't have to rely on Wagner as a generic musical accompaniment, no matter how well that works as a soundtrack for the film. An interview with the composer Mikael Karlsson on bringing the premiere of this opera to the Royal Swedish Opera, shows he was familiar with the film but clearly able to put the presence of Wagner aside and use his own musical language to work in service to the libretto written by Royce Vavrek. And it's a very modern approach that Karlsson takes, using a traditional orchestra, opera singers and chorus, but supplementing it with electronic rhythms, synthesisers and sound effects, not so much to create a 'science-fiction' feel as much as find a way to represent two different worlds, the external one and the interior struggle that Justine grapples with.

It might not really be the end of the world, but it certainly feels like it to Justine. This breakdown, coinciding with news of the appearance of the planet Melancholia, doesn't come from nowhere of course and there are many elements to explore in the young woman's relationships with her family; an overbearing mother who isn't satisfied, her father complaining that she isn't happy enough for all the expense he has put into the wedding, doubts about commitment in the marriage to her new husband, and issues with her father-in-law who is also her employer in a job where Justine is something of a workaholic. All of her frustrations, pressures and anxieties come to a head in the pressure-cooker atmosphere of the wedding reception. All of this takes up Act I of the opera, which really amounts to little more than the wedding from hell, but all the underlying issues individually as well as cumulatively are clearly traumatic.

The looming planet that appears in the sky hurtling towards Earth could be just a metaphor for an impending mental breakdown on an apocalyptic scale, but even if it is real, Justine's condition is such that the complete obliteration of Earth would be welcomed. There are several levels that have to be worked on then. Since it is not a movie there is evidently little room for the kind of cinematic techniques, montage and special effects employed by Von Trier, but the composer - if he is good enough - has the most powerful element of all at his disposal, which evidently is the musical expression of the layered issues. Karlsson's music needs to be more than just a soundtrack and it needs to avoid the danger of being bombastic on the progress of a planet hurtling on a collision course, as much as it has to depict the inner disintegration of Justine's mental breakdown.

Karlsson's use of electronic effects and synthesiser rhythms alongside the more traditional orchestral and arioso singing arrangements works quite well. It's a unique new sound I haven't heard used so extensively in opera before and it suits the subject. There's a bit of predictable ominous choral backing of haunting oooohh and aahhhh vocalisations, but there is also strong use of the chorus for reaction to the declining situation. In the first Act it sounds not unlike John Adams, quite dynamic, rhythmic and melodic, curiously establishing a mood that reminded me more of Luca Guadagnino’s use of Adams' music for I Am Love than Von Trier’s Melancholia, the former perhaps also closely related thematically and in a similar social and familial milieu.

As with the film version of Melancholia however, the second half - seen principally from the perspective of Justine's sister Claire - has an entirely different character, her view on motherhood giving a less self-absorbed view. It still has a melancholy and oppressive character, but it's one related to a wider existential concern; the thought of annihilation and extinction, whether personal or global, and the sense of sadness and loss of everything and everyone we know. Karlsson's approach to the music is accordingly quite different in response, as you might expect really, blending the electronic and acoustic well, with electronic sounds, samples and distortion replacing the ordered progress of the music.

While Karlsson succeeds in placing his own stamp on the story of Melancholia, it has to be said that the stage director Sláva Daubnerová and set designer are not so ambitious, or perhaps is less able to avoid the pull of the planetary force of the original, since it remains very close to the visual colour scheme and feel of the film version, certainly in Act I. On the plus side, the single location of the luxury hotel and the wedding reception adds to the intensity of the situation, an oppressively stressful occasion in proximity to family. Nor can they resist a stage version of special effects, having the wedding guests resort to strange movements, speeding up, slowing down and freeze-framing. Act II uses other techniques to close the world down, the stage darkening as the sun is blotted out by the mysterious planet growing larger as it bears down on them, clawing branches reaching down, the borders of the lawn curling in on the remaining figures of Justine, Claire and her son Leo. The projection effects built in intensity alongside this up to the spectacle of the finale.

I'm not sure whether you could say that the opera sufficiently establishes own distinct character from the original film, but you might feel differently if you haven't seen the film. On its own terms Vavrek's libretto, while heavily reliant on the film for situations, does nonetheless have its own expression. "Even as the bride wore white, inside the gown the bride was blue turned black" the chorus intone gloomily at the end of Act I, and I don't recall anything like the Act II hunter's scene in the original film, or certainly not like this and the way the opera slips into a surreal dream or nightmare world. There is definitely an effective equilibrium achieved in the contrasting tone of the two acts, the perspective of the two sisters, and in the music composed for them in each act.

It can't be easy to likewise balance all the varied tones of the drama in the unconventional electronic instruments and sound effects with the acoustic orchestral instrumentation, but the effectiveness of the musical direction under Andrea Molino is evident and impressive. As is the singing. The opera relies on two central performances from Justine and Claire, and it has two superb singers in Lauren Snouffer and Rihab Chaieb, but also solid performances from Jens Persson Hertzman as Michael, the husband and Ola Eliasson as the father. As Justine's mother Gaby, Anne Sofie von Otter must break some kind of record for the most use of the word 'fuck' in the aria 'Fuck you and your fucking rituals'. There is no reason that strong language can't be used in a modern opera, but it feels a little gratuitous here. Then again, why not? There are many ways of expression and this is just another one, which is no less effective than the others so well employed in Karlsson's Melancholia.

External links: Royal Swedish Opera

Schreker - Der ferne Klang (Stockholm, 2019)

Franz Schreker - Der ferne Klang

Royal Swedish Opera, 2019

Stefan Blunier, Christof Loy, Agneta Eichenholz, Daniel Johansson, Johan Rydh, Miriam Treichl, Andreas Lundmark, Jeremy Carpenter, Lars Arvidson, Vivianne Holmberg, Marie-Louise Granström, Madeleine Barringer, Ola Eliasson, Klas Hedlund, Daniel Ohlmann

OperaVision - October 2019

Franz Schreker's first breakthrough opera Der ferne Klang in 1912, like much of the composer's work that followed, has the same sense of a flawed utopian ideal that is common in the composer's later "decadent" works like Die Gezeichneten and Irrelohe. It has something in common then with other post-Wagnerian German and Austrian composers of the early twentieth century (most obviously Korngold's Die Tote Stadt or Das Wunder der Heliane) whose work would later be classified by the Nazi's as "Entartete", "degenerate" because of their Jewish connections.

Like those other works by such composers at the turn of the century the influence of Wagner is inescapable, and Der ferne Klang is very much seeped in Wagnerian romanticism both musically and thematically. If it perhaps doesn't have the same sense of purpose or philosophical rigour of Wagner's best work - few do - it is however considerably more than a pale copy or a mere fantasy aligned to the master's style, and in its own way Schreker's works tap into the concerns of their time at the beginning of the 20th century in the desire to find or create a better world.

Certainly the comparisons with Tannhäuser are immediately obvious in the situation of Fritz, a heroic artist with a pure vision, a composer who sets off on a self-imposed pilgrimage searching for "a distant sound", the otherworldly music of harps that he must pursue: "A noble ambition floats before my eyes and I must be free!". To do this means sacrificing his love for Grete, his obsession with the distant sound causing him to fail to recognise the beauty he already has before him in the young woman's love, until of course it is too late.

While Fritz is off in pursuit his elusive ideal the main part of Der ferne Klang is concerned with the fate of Grete. Left in an unhappy family situation, her drunken father Graumann prepared to gamble her away in a game to the landlord of the drinking den to whom he is heavily in debt, she runs away to try and find Fritz. Along the way she falls into the seductive clutches of a glamorous lady and ends up a high class prostitute in a nightclub on an island in Venice where she is adored by the clientele, and in particular pursued by the Count.

To settle matters Greta promises to marry whoever can tell/sing the best story, meaning that Act II of the opera even has its own version of Tannhäuser's singing contest in Wartburg. Rather than it being an occasion to seek to find ennobling truths and dispel false artistry based on received wisdom rather than hard-won experience and innovative ideas, you get the impression that Schreker uses this occasion more as an opportunity to provide a bit of musical variety, colour and cabaret.

In reality however the Count's relentless pursuit of Greta is in a way a similar pursuit for a 'ferne Klang', one that differs from Fritz's vision in that it has a predetermined outcome - winning Greta - and thus is less pure than Fritz's noble and idealistic journey into unknown realms. In a way then the singing contest does serve a similar purpose to that of the one in Tannhäuser. In Der ferne Klang however the nobility of that outcome is less sure, the dream of a paradise uncertain or maybe even an impossible ideal. Does that make striving for truth any less worthy even if it doesn't reveal what we hope it will?

That conclusion, which comes in Act III, is where Christof Loy has to really do the work in this production for the Swedish National Opera. Up until then it all seems a little lacking in this director's usual modern touches and ideas, keeping to a period setting of classical elegance. As ever, Loy is just seeking to reflect what is there in the music, matching the settings and drama to the lush orchestration of Schreker's score. Since Act III opens with a long musical interlude, Loy has more room here to develop and contrast and blend the reality with the dreams.

And since Schreker also provides the opportunity by setting Act III backstage after the performance of Fritz's great masterpiece, Loy takes advantage of exploring how dreams and reality can be brought together in art, in opera. His re-encounter with Grete brings Fritz great disappointment when he is made aware of her degrading circumstances and his renouncement of her at the end of Act II inspires him to the discovery of the 'far off sound' he has been looking for. Since his opera is considered a failure however, there's some ambiguity around whether life informs great art or whether art is at best only a flawed shadow of life. The chances are that, like Fritz, the only way we can judge whether we've taken the right path and grasped what is important is when it's too late to change anything.

If it doesn't make any grand gestures then or bring about any great revelations, Loy's direction very much explores and enhances the value of Schreker's Der ferne Klang. The same can be said very much for Stefan Blunier's conducting of the Swedish National Orchestra which revels in the lush beauty of Schreker's wonderful flowing orchestration. Like Richard Strauss, there's also considerable beauty and challenges in the vocal writing but when it's done right, as it is here with Agneta Eichenholz's Grete and Daniel Johansson's Fritz, both soaring in their self-delusion, shattered in their clash with reality - the effect is ravishing. How wonderful that the Swedish National Opera treat this beautiful neglected work so well.

Links: OperaVision, Swedish National Opera

Verdi - Aida (Stockholm, 2018)

Giuseppe Verdi - Aida

Royal Swedish Opera - Stockholm, 2018 

Pier Giorgio Morandi, Michael Cavanagh, Christina Nilsson, Ivan Defabiani, Katarina Dalayman, Lennart Forsén, Alessio Cacciamani, Johan Edholm, Jihan Shin, Jessica Forsell

OperaVision - April 2018

If there's one Verdi opera that needs to be continually reassessed and reconsidered in terms of whether it still has any real relevance or anything to say to a modern audience it's probably La Traviata, but Aida isn't far behind. Both works might have been fuelled by real anger against social institutions, but if they ever did have anything important to say it's easy for it to get lost in the star power and glamour that the operas' settings and subjects inevitably attract. La Traviata however can be immensely powerful and hard-hitting about society's treatment of women when it's allowed to be, and condemnation of the horrors of war in Aida need not necessarily be submerged under the bombast of Verdi's score and the pomp and ceremony of grand opera spectacle.

You do have to question the effectiveness of Verdi's treatment in Aida however, in how it seems to get carried away with its exotic setting and location, in the attention that Verdi pays towards Eastern-influenced melodies, grand religious ceremonies and ceremonial triumphal marches before royalty. With the melodramatic turns of love, family and duty all becoming intertwined, it threatens to overshadow the anti-war, anti-religious sentiments that are there, but there have been some notable attempts (and failures) to move away from the glamour and address the real issues at the heart of the work - if you consider that they were ever really there.

The short overture to Aida certainly reflects a more sombre note, and in Michael Cavanagh's production for the Royal Swedish Opera, that's immediately established as being associatedwith the more intimate story of the individuals whose lives have suffered because of the demands placed on them by the 'state'. We already see Aida and Radamès buried alive in the tomb that descends to show a figure we can presume in Amneris, lying face down in a pool of blood with a knife by her side. The note of melancholy that can also be found in Radamès ode to an impossible love for a slave girl of his nation's enemy ('Celeste Aida') is soon overwhelmed by cries of 'war and death' as the news of Amonasro's advance is brought by the High Priest, Ramfis.

It's in such contrasts however that Aida does effectively present the conflict between the individual's hope and dreams and the necessity of putting them aside for something as monstrous as war. Radamès's personal conflict is mirrored in the situation of Aida later in the opera when she is torn between her love for Radamès and her love for her father, Amanasro, the King of Ethiopia whose armies have been routed and taken captive by the Egyptian commander and his forces. There's also very much a case put of there being no real victors when it comes to war. "Today we are the victims of fate, tomorrow fate may strike you", Amonasro warns Radamès, and history has shown the truth of such turns of fate in the downfalls of the great. 

This aspect is borne out and elaborated upon quite successfully in the Stockholm production even if the focus is very much on the small personal drama. It's hard to criticise the production on those grounds, as this is indeed very much how it is played by Verdi. So yes, Aida has musical and dramatic flaws, or even if you don't consider them flaws - and it's perfectly valid to enjoy the opera for the music and singing for what it is - you still adjust the emphasis at your peril. Olivier Py's scattershot Paris production demonstrated the risks inherent in that whereas the chamber approach as seen more recently in the La Monnaie production, touched much more effectively on the true nature of the work in a way that prevented it from it appearing dated and out of touch with the times.

Magdalena Åberg's set and costume designs for the Royal Swedish Opera production are unimposing, but there is a balance struck between modern military uniforms with AK47 rifles and some nods to the Egyptian heritage of the work with its robes and ceremonies. The production does well to avoid the familiar imagery and processional choreography, presenting a more minimal stage with a gold wall in the background and blue lighting that nonetheless retains an air of a royal palace with notions of strict protocol and order. So there's a fresh modern outlook on the work at the same time as the necessary contrasts between the institutions of the state and the ordinary citizen are marked out well; contrasts that focus on the intimate love story at the heart of the work, one crushed by the weight of those powers that Verdi depicts so dramatically. 

The main issue that has to be dealt in a production of Aida is in how to present it's Triumphal March; whether to make it a glorious spectacle or undercut it with realism. Cavanagh's approach wisely takes a dim view of celebrating slaughter, so while the chorus and trumpets are proclaiming victory and the greatness of their King, we are shown scenes of the reality of the war that Radamès has waged against the Ethiopian tribes. And it is very much that of a large military force, bulked out in combat gear with every precision targeting technology at their disposal, bringing horror to the lives of ordinary citizens. It's very well staged - with curtains blocking off live vignette scenes rather than using projections - and it hammers home the horror of the contrast between the ideal of duty and the reality for Radamès. 

Musically, Pier Giorgio Morandi conducts an excellent performance that plays well to the contrasts of Verdi's melodies and the variety of sentiments within it without letting it get too sentimental. The singing performances, despite some initial reservations with timing and technique, are also quite good, and backed up with a superb chorus. You have to pity any young tenor who has to launch straight into an aria like 'Celeste Aida' with barely time to warm up, but Ivan Defabiani's Radamès really comes through spectacularly later with a performance that builds in character and confidence. Christina Nilsson as Aida also takes a short while to find her feet after 'Ritorna vincitor', but likewise gives a fine performance, the two of them making a convincing young couple whose love is challenged by the scorned Amneris. Katarina Dalayman shows the right kind of imperiousness tinged with regret, although her voice is lacking some of the necessary force. It's in this small scale drama that the bigger picture is reflected, bearing out the words spoken earlier that "Today we are the victims of fate, tomorrow fate may strike you".

Links: Royal Swedish Opera, OperaVision