Wilson - Orpheus Down (Farpoint CD, 2024)

Ian Wilson - Orpheus Down

Farpoint Recordings, 2024

Ian Wilson, Gareth Davis, Dario Calderone

CD

While its history goes back to Greek mythology, the story of Orpheus holds a very special place in opera. It's not just that it was the subject of one of the very first operas ever created, Monteverdi's L’Orfeo in 1607 is predated only by the now lost Dafne by Jacobo Peri in 1597 and Peri's own version of the story in the earliest known opera Euridice in 1600. It's Monteverdi's work however that remains a cornerstone for what we know as opera today and it is still frequently performed. It's significant that Gluck's version Orfeo ed Euridice (1762) or Orphée et Eurydice (1774) is also one of the most important reform works that redefined and refined opera, but the subject remains popular with artists (notably Cocteau) and contemporary composers, Harrison Birtwistle’s The Mask of Orpheus (1986) being a landmark work in its own right.

Part of the appeal of the work for composers is undoubtedly the nature of Orpheus as a musician and how the myth can be seen as the ultimate expression of artistic creation. Orpheus ventures deep into the underworld armed only with his lyre, confident that his music has the power to protect him from the horrors of the Underworld, charming gods and monsters. It may even be capable of extending and surpassing the capacity of human expression to the extent that it can find a way to overcome death. It's a deeply inspirational story that has indeed inspired artists to strive to the limit of what they can achieve.

The challenges are immense and formidable then for any composer who sets themselves up to compose music that expresses such aspirations. For Gluck his musical expression of the myth could be seen as about reestablishing some kind of order, for Birtwistle it's grappling with the intangible mysteries of time, memory and myth (among many other ideas), but what is important, perhaps evidently, is the power of music to express the deepest and most noble of human sentiments. As far as Ian Wilson's revisiting of the myth for our times in Orpheus Down (2021), one must wonder how much of a role the impact of the COVID pandemic played consciously or unconsciously in confronting the reality of omnipresent death with the need to strive for immortality through music. There is some measure of folly in such an endeavour, but the artist has to be prepared to take those risks, remain defiant and free of doubt about overcoming the many obstacles put in their way. One element that is common in the musical expression of all those works, which is I suppose common in any form of musical expression whether it's opera drama or otherwise, is the capacity it opens up for musical storytelling, mood and individual expression.

We get that not only in Ian Wilson’s composition, but also in how the performance of that work employs just two instruments to express everything that needs to be expressed in Orpheus’s journey through the darkest of experiences. What is most notable here is not the absence of singing - you don't necessarily need words or pictures to tell a story - but the choice of musical voices used and how they express the very same experience endured by Orpheus; dark percussive and earthy double bass, the airy deep bass clarinet. Gluck might have tried to reform and reset how opera might more effectively work its unique magic, but he inevitably had to make concessions to expectations of the times. Wilson has no such restrictions imposed other than self limitations to be as direct and expressive as possible with the right choice of elements and minimum of means.

Paradoxically, Wilson's lack of voice and reduced instrumentation in Orpheus Down gives Orpheus an even greater voice. You could see the musical melodic quality of the bass clarinet as his voice (what wind instrument could be as lyrical for the voice of Orpheus?) and the double bass his dramatic progress, or see the blending of both as a representation of the struggle to reconcile the Apollonian and the Dionysian sides of human nature. The way the instruments are used come to embody this dualistic struggle to overcome the limitations of earthly existence with the imperfection and chaos of death and aspire to surpass the capacity of man to assert order and meaning, striving to achieve immortality in a greater spiritual realm through his art, his music, his creativity. Without words, Wilson's music gives Orpheus a greater physical presence, as well as evoking the higher experience he undergoes.

In the opening Mourning Song however we witness Orpheus initially unable to give voice to his loss. Dario Calderone’s double bass is restricted to the extended techniques of tapping and the rubbing of strings, like the body broken down by grief, rain falling around him. The bass clarinet of Gareth Davis is like a sobbing, the voice slowly trying to give expression to that physical experience and, just as importantly, strive to find a way to overcome it. Evidently the route Orpheus takes is not the common one, and in the subsequent track The Crossing we hear the creak of Charon’s oar, the ferryman even humming a melody as he goes about his eternal task. It's a lovely touch, quite unexpected and haunting.

The journey started, the progression and development of the work continues with Orpheus beginning his Descent down into Hades and across the subsequent parts. It tracks that uncommon but entirely human reaction to overcome the trials and the torment of the experience of loss and bereavement and emerge greater from it. Sentinels then is potentially a literal encounter with many headed Cerberus or a battle with his own fears, Orpheus emerging triumphant in a short melody of optimism that he may be able to succeed in his endeavour, but it's only a brief respite until he comes up to the audibly formidable entrance to Hades in At The Gates. The spirits he encounters there not unexpectedly means that Passing Ghosts is simultaneously an airy song of shifting sounds and sudden shocks.

There's consequently a lot of darkness of this journey through Hades in Orpheus Down and not a great deal of light, but there is something resolute nonetheless in the protagonist's firmness of purpose, anchored by the double bass introduction to Entreaty and the lyrical enchantment of the lines of Davis’s beautiful bass clarinet. The ambition however becomes increasingly strained as Orpheus brings Eurydice upwards in Towards the Light. The Losing Again while traumatic however does not feel as hopeless as it might, rather a sense of resignation to the inevitability of the enterprise's failure. It is not however without recompense of sort for the ambition in seeking to break the bonds of physical human limitations. Although Wilson’s musical evocation of the myth retains the original outcome of Orpheus paying the ultimate price for his transgression of the laws of nature and the gods, To Sing Forever does not provide the false happy ending demanded by the conventions of 18th century opera of Gluck’s time, but rather, as in Stefano Landi's La Morte d'Orfeo (1619), the bard is torn to pieces by the Maenads. Ending on an unresolved note, the head of Orpheus however continues to sing to us down through the ages, an inspiration to Ian Wilson and no doubt others in the future.

Produced by Ian Wilson, recorded by Gareth Davis and engineered and mastered by Lazar Arsović, the sound recording on this Farpoint CD and the High Resolution download of Orpheus Down is astonishingly good. The bass clarinet and thrumming double bass resonate deeply with detail and clarity. There is no obvious applied reverb or use of natural spacial ambience of the recording studio, no sense of silence being used to playing a role, the music of just two instruments creating it own fullness of presence.

External links: Orpheus Down

Wagner - Lohengrin (Vienna, 2024)

Richard Wagner - Lohengrin

Wiener Staatsoper, 2024

Christian Thielemann, Jossi Wieler, Sergio Morabito, Georg Zeppenfeld, David Butt Philip, Malin Byström, Martin Gantner, Anja Kampe, Attila Mokus, Juraj Kuchar, Daniel Lökös, Johannes Gisser, Jens Musger

Wiener Staatsoper Live Stream - 5th May 2024

Any work grounded in mythology can be used - and in the case of Richard Wagner's Lohengrin during the Hitler years abused - to have its meaning twisted. Whatever Wagner's original intentions for the work might have been, its nationalist expressions aligned to the will of god can be inherently problematic in the context of history and to present day viewpoints. Most contemporary stage directors will challenge this in some way - the most directly confrontational I've seen in recent years being the Olivier Py one - or prefer to take an abstract distanced approach. I think the latest production directed by Jossi Wieler and Sergio Morabito for the Vienna State opera is however the first that I've seen to attempt to subvert the traditional divisions in the work between good and evil. To be fair, it's more likely that the directors might be looking for a little more nuance to that position than is usually found in productions of Lohengrin, but that can often just end up muddying the waters.

Wieler and Morabito initially approach this then as something of a crime thriller. During the Vorspiel Elsa is seen disguised in boys' clothes, skulking around in a guilty manner, unaware that she is being observed in a courtyard by Ortrud from what appears to be the rampart of a castle. When she is challenged then about the disappearance of her brother, the successor to the line of Duke of Brabant, she displays none of the usual fear or cowering before the charges of fratricide levelled against her. This Elsa is confident of her position, wholly certain that her story of a knight in shining armour will be believed by the credulous population. She is not some helpless young woman being judged by society and the king, but seems to be the instigator and in control of the events.

The proposal in this production seems to be put that Elsa did indeed murder her own brother, throwing him into the lake - or attempt to murder him, since at the conclusion here, he reappears pulled out of the water. The motive for her action is perhaps not so straightforward. There may be an element of wanting to strike back against a very clearly patriarchal society that is against her from the outset, that will overlook any claim to title in favour of her younger brother simply because she is a woman. Perhaps she also wants to pin the blame for her actions and justify them as a way of rejecting a marriage to the scheming Friedrich von Telramund and expose him as someone interested only in using her - and accusing her - for his own gain.

When the hero appears to defend her, it does seem as if he is conjured by her suggestion, appearing here - in contrast to much of the period setting - in the traditional garb of a knight, complete with chainmail, armour and sword. Not only that, but his 'divinity' is suggested also by his Jesus-like appearance, with short beard and long hair in wavy curls. Whether real or merely a fantasy image that the King and the people of Brabant are willing to believe in, Lohengin's heroism isn't really put to the test as the mere effort of lifting a sword seems to place such a strain on Telramund that he appears to have a heart attack. "Du hast wohl nie das Glück besessen, das sich uns nur durch Glauben gibt?" Have you never known the happiness that is given to us by faith alone?

Whether asking us to accept this reading of Lohengrin as credible or a bit of a stretch, you have to consider any rational explanation of the myth as having a few holes or at least an ancient kind of admiration for chivalry and mysticism that is hard to reconcile with our times. How else can we accept Lohengrin’s demand that Elsa adhere to an unreasonable order not to know or even ask who he is? What is that but keeping a woman in her place and not questioning her man? That seems at least to be the premise or the perceived flaws that the directors pit themselves against in this production, like many others, not so much challenging it as perhaps finding a way to work with a work that remains problematic for many reasons, yet is still deserving of exploration.

It seems then that the intention is not to rationalise it nor indeed resort to undermining it. The measure of that is that this is not purely taking the feminist viewpoint, since it also paints Elsa as a murderer, a fantasist and a manipulator. Nor does it subvert the view by portraying Elsa as evil and Ortrud and Telramund as in some way good. It's not as simple as that. In a discussion about the intentions for the production Sergio Morabito refers to the Lars von Trier film Dancer in the Dark, and - without the production trying in any way to replicate the techniques used in the film - it's a good reference point for an oppressed and abused young woman's imagination lifting her out of the very serious situation she faces. It also establishes a more critical modern take on a fairy tale. 

Anna Viebrock's sets and production design settles consequently for some intermediate non-specific period, the fantasy castle ramparts of Act I looking more like a overpass of a road and a underpass entrance with graffiti on the wall by the time we arrive at Act II. There is obviously a militaristic setting that is crucial to the work, the army uniforms here similar to French soldiers in the trenches of the first World War, the women mostly in nurses uniforms. This aspect can't be avoided or overlooked, as there are other implications that you can draw from this particular opera and its legacy about a nation willing to go to war under the influence of mass suggestion, and this production seems to address that. Of course that means that Friedrich and Ortrud see through the willing delusion of Elsa and the German people of Brabant, but that doesn't necessarily mean that they are good and Elsa bad, just that they have their own agenda to push.

Tying this all together in a way that is coherent is a challenge that is not made any easier by trying to impose or suggest other readings or offer an alternative view of the work. The ending here does leave you with much to consider, and I'm not sure I grasped the implications of Elsa's brother, who may have been the inspiration for the mystical knight who bedazzles the people, dragging himself out of the river or canal at the conclusion to strike down Elsa, foiling in the process Ortrud's efforts to gain influence. Or something. Whatever it was it made for a powerful conclusion that matched the force and romanticism of Wagner's score.

Dramatically interesting and very well stage-choreographed, the fact that this has impact is also undoubtedly down to fine performances from Malin Byström as Elsa and David Butt Philip as Lohengrin, and another outstanding performance from Georg Zeppenfeld as Heinrich. His control, enunciation and characterisation is as close to perfect as you could hope. You'd think you might like occasionally hear someone else sing the role, but why settle for second best? The same goes for Friedrich von Telramund, where there are few better than Martin Gantner. Anja Kampe cuts a fine Ortrud even if it requires some effort on her part to hit the higher notes. She finds a good position to maintain between the opera's view of her as some kind of witch and a woman seeking to assert control within a male dominated and oriented society. Musically, as you would expect, it's a very fine performance from the Vienna orchestra under Christian Thielemann, the soaring full orchestral and choral elements utterly enrapturing.

External links: Vienna State Opera, Wiener Staatsoper live streaming

TERRAIN Festival of New Music (Belfast, 2024)

TERRAIN Festival of New Music

New Horizons Music, 2024

Ian Wilson, Liza Lim, Ivan Moody, Greg Caffrey, Jane O’Leary, Daniel Kessner, Ioana Petcu-Colan, Ashling Agnew, David McCann, Lina Andonovska, David Lyttle, Cathal Roche

The Accidental Theatre, Belfast - 18 May 2024

Although every pound in arts funding has to be fought for in the face of cuts and a cost of living crisis, we are fortunate in Northern Ireland to at least have tireless organisations promoting new, vital, experimental and cutting-edge new music. There are many important composers and rarely performed works of 20th century music that are rarely heard after their premiere, but it is important for the sake of musical progression and creativity to revisit these works and introduce them to a new public. The commission of original new works is just as important and fortunately, though initiatives north and south of the border, we also have a number of superb composers in Ireland, far more than we have outlets for their work to be heard.

Which is why it is important that composer and Artistic Director Ian Wilson has started another new music festival TERRAIN almost 10 years after the last the short-lived contemporary music festival TEMPERED was first presented over 4 days in 2015 and 2016 at the Crescent Arts Centre and a number of other venues. The inaugural one-day TERRAIN Festival of New Music might be a more modest proposal in scale, but in the range of music selected and the quality of performers gathered for three concerts at the Accidental Theatre in Belfast and with the support of the Arts Council NI, Moving on Music and the Contemporary Music Centre, there is ambition here that can surely be built upon 

Unfortunately I wasn't able to make it to the earlier noon or afternoon concerts in the festival, missing the chance to hear some music from significant modern and contemporary composers that you will be hard pressed to see programmed elsewhere or even find recordings of much of their work. This included a great selection of pieces from such luminaries as Michael Finnissy, Morton Feldman, Elliott Carter, Liza Lim, Rebecca Saunders, Dai Fujikura, Kaija Saariaho as well as new works by Irish and local composers.

The musicians performing across the day are also among the best Ireland has to offer, each of them with a solid grounding and experience - and love for - contemporary music. Ioana Petcu-Colan is leader of the Ulster Orchestra, while flautist Ashling Agnew and cellist David McCann are local contemporary music specialists who have been regularly performing works by many of the above named composers in Belfast over the last decade as part of the Hard Rain SoloistEnsemble. Australian flautist Lina Andonovska is a new name to me but has an impressive international profile, while David Lyttle and Cathal Roche are both familiar figures on the Irish jazz and improvised music scene.

The evening performance of inaugural TERRAIN Festival of New Music opened with three solo cello performances by David McCann. Far from being a low-key introduction to the evening's performances, McCann almost stole the show with a performance of Liza Lim's Invisibility, but before that he showed the variety and virtuosity of solo cello works with pieces by Ivan Moody and Greg Caffrey. "O tower wreathed in gold" by Ivan Moody, who died earlier this year at the age of only 59, might not be one of his liturgical works - Moody was also an Eastern Orthodox priest - but it felt like there was a spiritual element pervading this beautiful short piece, performed warmly without any religious solemnity. 

I'm familiar with Greg Caffrey's work, finding them enjoyable, full of ideas and interesting techniques and references, particularly his ensemble pieces composed as Artistic Director of the Hard Rain SoloistEnsemble. As enjoyable as they are in the moment, they never seem to linger for me personally, and that was also the case with "Vigour, Rigour, Jigger". An intense piece in three short movements that require a lot of concentration, skill and technique - which McCann has plenty of - the first section signed-off unexpectedly by an impromptu car horn heard outside that seemed to fit with the fun tone of the work. It was a well-chosen piece that provided contrast and variety and complemented the other two works in this set.

Australian composer Liza Lim describes her exploratory solo cello piece "Invisibility" as one where "the cello also plays the musician". It's hard to imagine David McCann having anything but complete control of his cello in the drive, intensity and fluctuations of this remarkable piece, but there are indeed a number of invisible forces that produce unexpected results, Invisibility requiring not just the use of a regular bow, but a second bow with the hair wrapped around the wood. With its unusual tuning and scratchy complexities the sounds produced are extraordinary, as is the showmanship of playing the final segment with both bows simultaneously in both hands. I've heard this work before, but seeing it performed live is a revelation.

Which is what this is all about really. Live music performances give the audience an opportunity to really engage with the beauty and complexities of works that otherwise might seem formidable and inaccessible. It was just such an experience, as well as another example of thoughtful programming and musicianship, that made the violin and flute duos performed by Ioana Petcu-Colan violin and Aisling Agnew work so well together in performance. The two pieces by Irish-American and American composers at either end were contrasting but complementary, Jane O’Leary’s "A Winter Sketchbook" all icy fragility in the call and response interaction between flute and violin, while Daniel Kessner’s "Nuance" used a similar style, but with a warmer character with a hint of Appalachian bluegrass on the violin that perfectly rounded out this performance, the two separated by a short ethereal Toru Takemitsu piece originally composed for two flutes.

Another facet of new music that is often overlooked - which also requires specialised musicians - is improvised music. New music doesn't came any newer than being composed as it is performed in the moment. It takes incredible skill on the instrument and the ability to listen and respond, and that was in evidence with the remarkable musicianship and creativity of saxophonist Cathal Roche and drummer David Lyttle, both experienced jazz musicians and composers, forming an impressive trio with flautist Lina Andonovska, who introduced her contrabass flute into the performance. This was no free jazz onslaught however, the opening breathy flute introduction by Andronovska developing into an improvised piece not that far removed from the kind of meticulously scored works composed by Salvatore Sciarrino. Roche opened another section with a melody somewhere between Arabian and Irish folk expanded upon by the other two musicians with wonderful interplay. A final 'encore' opened by Andronovska took the music much closer to the free improvisation jazz world but always there was a sense of purpose of creativity, control, listening and responsiveness to each other as well as consideration for their audience.

In such choices in the music programming and the musicians, the inaugural TERRAIN Festival of New Music - what I managed to catch of it - seemed to take this idea of programming a wide variety of adventurous new music and presenting it in an accessible format as something of a mission statement. Even the Accidental Theatre has an intimacy and close familiarity that commands attention and engagement with the performers and the music. This an impressive start to a new venture that - along with the work of The Belfast Ensemble, the Hard Rain Soloist Ensemble, Sonorities and Moving on Music's Brilliant Corners Festival - feels like it has something vital to contribute to the local contemporary music and arts scene.

External links: New Horizons Music, Contemporary Music Centre, Moving on Music

Mitchell - Riot Symphony (Belfast, 2024)

Conor Mitchell - Riot Symphony

Ulster Orchestra, 2004

Andrew Gourlay, Gavin Peden, Rebecca Murphy, Michael Bell

Ulster Hall - 10 May 2024

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

External links: Ulster Orchestra

Vivaldi - L'Olimpiade (Dún Laoghaire, 2024)

Antonio Vivaldi - L'Olimpiade

Irish National Opera, 2024

Peter Whelan, Daisy Evans, Gemma Ní Bhriain, Meili Li, Alexandra Urquiola, Sarah Richmond, Chuma Sijeqa, Rachel Redmond, Seán Boylan 

Pavilion Theatre, Dún Laoghaire - 7 May 2024

The last time I saw Vivaldi's setting of L'Olimpiade was in 2012 at Buxton during the summer of the London Olympics, and here we are now 12 years later with the Paris Olympics just around the corner. If there isn't one already, there really ought to be some kind of rule about performing this work every four years, or even one of the many other versions of the work (Pergolesi's version is one of the best). At least then you might have half a chance of getting your head around the complications of Metastasio’s libretto.

It's not as if you really need to follow all the twists and turns or accept all the coincidences that take place in L'Olimpiade, nor does the opera really even feature sporting events but maybe because we are in an election year (in Ireland and likely in the UK as well), it struck me that the olympiade of the opera is more about the idea of a competition to choose a winner, and our hope that that this outcome - as unpredictable as the results might be - will resolve all our troubles. This is something that the director Daisy Evans acknowledges as a factor in the choices made in this staging the work for the Irish National Opera, that it's more about renewal, rebirth and the chance of new beginnings. It shouldn't be too much of a stretch to compare the misery of lives thrown into turmoil in this opera with the reality for many people in the current cost of living crisis.

Not that this needs to be explicitly pointed out. In fact, the idea of renewal can even be felt from the very fact that a 300 year old opera that can still speak to a modern audience, that its themes and treatment can be renewed with the passing of time to reflect and connect with our own concerns about the world around us. That idea of renewal is also something that the director chooses to feed into the production, and indeed it's probably a necessity for a Baroque opera. This is something that the Irish National Opera have recognised from early on and successfully continued to apply to their progamming of such ancient works. With its references to ancient Greek drama then, the choice is made to play out L'Olimpiade on a small ampitheatre set, the Baroque period of composition acknowledged in the form of the stylised costumes, but all of it brought up to date with modern trainers and neon lighting. 

It's essential to acknowledge the Baroque character of the work in this way; not parody it, but find a way to make it relatable to a modern audience. That is never easy for a work with passages of recitative exposition and arias of various types of woe and lament, with a complicated backstory and some laughable coincidences, but Evans keeps it simple, including amusing little pantomime acted interlude scenes (with additional Vivaldi music) to help the audience understand the strange twists of a plot that you never seem to be able to get your head around, not matter how many times you read the synopsis in the programme. This succeeds wonderfully, keeping it engaging and relatively easy to follow, even if it demands a certain amount of willing credulity.

In terms of plot, well it would serve no purpose to try to unravel it here, but it's the typical Metastasio plot of star-crossed lovers separated by the whims of fate and the thoughtless self-interested actions of ruler and kings. Licida hopes to use the upcoming Olympic games to win the hand of the woman he loves, Aristea (her hand offered as a prize by the King Clistene), by getting his athletic friend Megacle to win the games for him, both of them unaware that in so doing Megacle will be giving to Licida the woman he loves and who loves him, but unable to marry because the King hates Athenians. Oh, the misery and soul searching this is going to cause. And that's not even the half of it! The complications of the opera’s plot - as improbable as they seem - do nonetheless reflect the reality of challenges we all face, even as we do our best to aim towards a favourable outcome. How can we trust our hearts and chose to believe in when there is much deceit, when people turn out not to be who they say they are, when fate throws misfortune our way? L’Olimpiade suggests that things work out for the best in the end, which might not be realistic but hope is important too.

There are a number of factors that help make this work, which you can simply and accurately summarise as just being the magic of opera. Making the plot understandable is the most obvious challenge and as noted above, the director does everything possible to ensure it works. Vivaldi however is evidently also an important factor, his music not only being characteristically invigorating and entertaining, but perfectly attuned to their emotional states, giving each of them a sympathetic hearing and with a distinct character rather than the usual generic interchangeable expressions of woe. In terms of making that work in live performance, the authenticity of the sound in the use and marvellous playing of period instruments by the Irish Baroque Orchestra, conducted with superb pacing and dynamism from the harpsichord by music director Peter Whelan, give the opera the necessary kick and drive to take you along with it.

Most importantly perhaps, vital at least in this opera for making the dramatic developments feel true, is the singing. The casting for the range of characters and voices is superb, and - like Mozart's operas - it helps that these are all fresh young fresh singers. Without in any way wishing to underplay the challenges involved in singing these roles, Vivaldi doesn't provide the usual show-offy arias, but writes for the voice in a way that brings out the underlying sentiments hidden behind the typical Metastasian nautical and meteorological metaphors (weathering the stormy seas of fate). It's more important to imbue the characters with personalities and not just ciphers with the generic feelings that are described in the libretto. That's by design of course, not chance, and it's undoubtedly the reason why this same libretto has been employed so often, first by Antonio Caldara before Vivaldi, and after that over 100 settings by Pergolesi, Scarlatti and Piccini among others in the 18th century, with even Donizetti and Beethoven having a go at it in the 19th century.

Simplicity then is the key to the presentation, trusting in the original and not over-complicating it by imposing a modern concept upon it. It will resonate with the listener itself if it is done right and that is exactly what the creative team and the singers do here. The main players are Megacle, sung by here by a mezzo-soprano Gemma Ní Bhriain and Aristea, sung by another mezzo-soprano Alexandra Urquiola. Their central importance and the quality of their performance is revealed in a beautiful Act 1 duet that combines the ecstasy of their reunion with the tragedy of what they know lies ahead for them, Megacle left with no choice but to give it up his love for the sake of his friend Licida who once saved his life. Both Ní Bhriain and Urquiola demonstrate how critical it is to bring a human element to the work, and so too do the rest of cast, each of whom get the opportunity to put their side across in arias and ariosos, each similarly inviting compassion and understanding. Licida and Aristene, the other key figures with a troubled history (to say the least), are well performed here by Meili Li and Sarah Richmond.

With this kind of treatment, attention to character, music and the efforts to make something of the plot, everything comes together and when you are able to do that with a work like this, it can be breathtaking. We know to expect this now from the INO, with this now being the third Vivaldi opera undertaken by Whelan and the Irish Baroque opera, which no doubt accounts for a 300 year old opera selling out three nights at the Pavilion theatre in Dún Laoghaire. It's also gratifying to see that it is touring more widely with no less than eight upcoming performances at the Royal Opera House's Linbury Theatre in London all already sold out as well. Audiences can still enjoy the work's spirit of renewal and continue to something new from L'Olimpiade 300 years later. Whether they get something new and hopeful in renewal of government is another matter.

Links: Irish National Opera

Production photos: Ros Kananagh

Verdi - Rivoluzione e Nostalgia (Brussels, 2024)

Giuseppe Verdi - Rivoluzione e Nostalgia

La Monnaie, 2024

Carlo Goldstein, Krystian Lada, Enea Scala, Vittorio Prato, Justin Hopkins, Nino Machaidze, Gabriela Legun, Hwanjoo Chung, Scott Hendricks, Giovanni Battista Parodi, Dennis Rudge, Helena Dix, Paride Cataldo, Saténik Khourdoian

OperaVision - 29/30 March 2024

'What will remain of our time?', a man called Giuseppe ponders at the start of Rivoluzione, a two-part opera compilation of selected arias from early Verdi operas created for La Monnaie in Brussels. Well, the music of Giuseppe Verdi remains a cornerstone of the opera repertoire 150 years after his major works, suggesting that his operas still have something that speaks to us today, but what of the lesser early works? Will the ideas expressed in those works from the 'galley years' spent honing his craft still have something to say in the future. That seems to be the question that lies at the heart of La Monnaie's early Verdi project, and if the answer is not clearly resolved in the way that the project might have hoped, it certainly suggests that Verdi's early operas have qualities that ensure that they will be around much longer than Rivoluzione e Nostalgia.

Still, there is merit or at least purpose in such a project, all of the excerpts from these two back-to-back operas being selected from Verdi's first sixteen operas, most of which in the main are rarely performed. The reasons for the lack of new productions of these works is open to debate. You could argue an opera house has to consider the commercial aspect; why put on Alzira when you have the name familiarity of a new La Traviata or Aida to bring in the punters? This suggests the other argument that indeed the early 'galley years' works are inferior, but inferior to what? To later Verdi unquestionably, but on their own merits the works can be thrilling pieces of crowd-pleasing operatic drama. The quality of the musical composition and hints of the greatness of the later Verdi can be found there - as this project ultimately proves - but the plots of those works are, not to put too fine a point on it, somewhat hokey pot-boiler melodramas. The challenge for Rivoluzione e Nostalgia is whether it can cannibalise those great moments from Giovanna d’Arco, Nabucco, Stiffelio etc. and put them into a new context with a coherent plot in order for us to see their continued value and relevance.

There's an argument then for taking the works out of their original dramatically and psychologically dubious context and applying them to a newly written drama that presents the musical qualities in a better light. It's not as if this is anything new in the world of opera, which has an ancient but now not so common tradition of the pasticcio opera. I can't think of any pasticcio that draws exclusively from the work of one composer, although some lost Vivaldi works have been reconstructed from his other compositions and Rossini is well-known for cannibalising his own works to make new ones. I recall that not too long ago a ballet was made entirely of Verdi's instrumental music and overtures, undoubtedly for similar reasons to this project, ie. the music is too good to let languish. If that's the case then the idea of an early Verdi pick 'n' mix is a good one, but - again not to put too fine a point on it - unfortunately the execution fails in this La Monnaie production of Rivoluzione e Nostalgia.

It's arguable whether it's a good idea to start the first part Rivoluzione with 'Patria oppressa' (from Macbeth). You can't make a bigger statement about the proposed subject than that, and at the same time demonstrate the quality of Verdi's composition, but the new plot context for this piece doesn't really stand up to such a moving chorus. The context for it is a video sequence showing random footage of life in the late 1960's that is to be set into turmoil by conflict and war around the world, ordinary people affected by events in Vietnam and Algeria, initiating student protests in many major cities around the world, but specifically here in Italy, presumably Rome. Starting off on such a note as 'Patria oppressa' however, it is going to find it hard to sustain the momentum and build on that, and indeed instead of a struggle between the rulers of nations and their people, Rivoluzione turns its focus on a romantic tug-of-war between Laura and Carlo and Lorenzo, with her brother Giuseppe adding to the sense of outrage. With Laura a bourgeois girl, the daughter of the chief of police falling in love with Carlo a common shipyard worker, the struggle becomes one of crossing class boundaries and accusations of being a traitor to the ideals of the proletariat.

The shortcomings of the resetting of the plot aside, there are other weaknesses in the execution of Rivoluzione. Inevitably, considering the cut-and-paste method, there is no through-composition, the cabalettas, arias and choruses drawn from the likes of Ernani, La battaglia di Legnano, I masnadieri and Luisa Miller separated by filmed segments of ponderous portentous spoken dialogue. The names of the characters of Laura and Carlo are defined by the first two arias taken from Luisa Miller ('Lo vidi e'l primo palpito' and 'Sacra la scelta è d’un' consorte'), but elsewhere names and words are subtly changed to reflect the new context, referring to the bourgeoisie and barricades (I masnadieri for example retranslated from 'brigands' to 'agitators') removing references to the diverse nationalities of the different operas.

Dancers are used to bring another element to the stage production, enlivening the stage drama with energetic modern jerky movements. They don't do much to take the heat out of Verdi's blood and thunder melodrama, but instead emphasise every single note, pushing the emotional charge of the scene far beyond its limit, certainly further than a romantic love-triangle plot between revolutionary students can sustain under the excuse that 'Il personale è politico', the private is political. Say what you like about the plots of Verdi operas, but at least they aimed for grand historical drama that merited such musical forces. The plot of this one is too slight and insignificant to bear such weight. Bizarrely - something I've never felt about Verdi operas or even any previous production - but removed from their original context, the confected love-triangle struggle feels more like a macho power struggle than the typical Verdian questions of conflict between love, family and duty.

What is indisputable however is that musically, Rivoluzione is outstanding. Nino Machaidze as Laura is sensational and Gabriela Legun as Cristina no less impressive in the supporting soprano role. Enea Scala's Carlo is a robust Verdi tenor, dramatic and lyrical, Vittorio Prato's Giuseppe and Justin Hopkins' Lorenzo less so, but capable nonetheless. When you have singers of this quality, you can admire the individual pieces from these scarcely performed Verdi operas and the passion that underlies them, even if the dramatic context in their new setting remains flawed. Across two parts totalling 5 hours of this diptych, you can imagine that the cumulative impact might be a bit much. So after the three hours of Rivoluzione I hoped for a little respite in Nostalgia.

'What will remain of our time?' Well, the question that the 1968 setting of Rivoluzione failed to establish in any significant way is explored in Nostalgia, inevitably to diminishing returns. Laura has disappeared, we later discover now dead, but there are video documents of the student days of the 'revolutionaries' who ended up betraying their cause and the revolution, accepting pay-offs and now - reuniting in a plush art gallery to view Carlo's latest barricade installation piece (which is actually rather good) - feeling somewhat guilty about their acceptance into the bourgeois world of art and commerce. There is at least some respite from the onslaught of full-throttle Verdi in Rivoluzione, and great pleasure to be found in the musical choices that include the overture from Jérusalem, an aria from Il corsaro, a romanza from I due Foscari, scenes from Macbeth and - essentially - the chorus of the Hebrew slaves 'Va pensiero' from Nabucco as a finale.

Relying on Macbeth for a large portion of Nostalgia however reveals some weaknesses in the singing. Macbeth is a bigger role than Scott Hendricks can manage, Carlo unconvincingly transforming from tenor Enea Scala into a baritone seemingly for this purpose. Helena Dix is more capable, but not convincing in the Banquet scene or the sleepwalking scene (sung bel canto style with references remaining to Banquo's ghost). Compared to the other rare Verdi operas drawn on, Macbeth is also perhaps too familiar to view in a new context. Dramatically, on the basis of being not much more than haunted by past crimes of betrayal to 'the cause' - and even then it's the banal gossip of romantic betrayal that dominates - it's not strong enough to erase memory of the original when the filmed segments between the arias and choruses fail to merge into anything that resembles a plot. Hendricks, never a Verdian baritone, I'm sorry to say fairly murders 'O vecchio cor, que batti' from I due Foscari. Only Gabriela Legun really stands out again here as Virginia, but even her 'Egli non riede ancora' from Il corsaro lacks a convincing context and emotion that a genuine plot and true characterisation might bring.

Despite the dramatic weaknesses of the diptych, its overextended length, the inconsistency of the singing and its failure to amount to a coherent opera, there is nonetheless some merit in this production of Rivoluzione e Nostalgia. Aside from reminding us that there is a treasure trove of musical richness in the rarely performed first sixteen operas of Giuseppe Verdi, it also proves that opera is not primarily about the music or the singing, but that the drama is the critical element. Without a meaningful dramatic, philosophical and human context, the singing and music alone is meaningless, or at least diminished. There are of course exceptions to any rule, just as there are exceptional productions that prove the value of many operas, including many of the early Verdi operas, thought to be lacking in substance. Just reviving any one of them (yes, even Alzira is redeemable) would have been preferable to creating Rivoluzione e Nostalgia, but as an opportunity to highlight that there is much more to Verdi than La Traviata and Aida, or indeed Don Carlos and Otello, it makes at least a semi-convincing case. 

External links: La Monnaie-De Munt, OperaVision

Adès - The Exterminating Angel (Paris, 2024)

Thomas Adès - The Exterminating Angel

Opéra National de Paris, 2024

Thomas Adès, Calixto Bieito, Jacquelyn Stucker, Gloria Tronel, Hilary Summers, Claudia Boyle, Christine Rice, Amina Edris, Nicky Spence, Frédéric Antoun, Jarrett Ott, Anthony Roth Costanzo, Filipe Manu, Philippe Sly, Paul Gay, Clive Bayley, Thomas Faulkner, Ilanah Lobel-Torres

Paris Opera Play - 5th March 2024

When it comes to the films of Luis Buñuel, the ideas and sentiment behind them isn't particularly deep or complicated, but it's the surrealist treatment that distinguishes the works. You could possibly break most of them down to the filmmaker rejecting and making fun of the establishment, the bourgeoisie, the church and their perversions, but he does so in a slightly surreal way that gives them an unexpected character, and a very daring one that challenged many sacred cows. Whether it's Catherine Deneuve as a young newlywed housewife who becomes a prostitute at a high-class brothel in order to enact the deepest sexual fantasies that her young husband is unable to fulfil in Belle de Jour, the story of a nun who resists the lecherous advances of her uncle, renounces her vows and gives his estate over to homeless beggars after his death in Viridiana (including a parody of the Last Supper), some of the images and situations in his films are indelible. None more so than The Exterminating Angel.

Again the idea is a simple one where things seem to go wrong at a dinner party organised by Edmundo de Nobile and his wife Lucia after an evening at the opera. They are surprised to find that the servants are not there to collect the coats of the guests, and this initial upset seems to be the catalyst for throwing the evening into turmoil. The scene is repeated as if to suggest that if the servants, the workers, aren't there to look after them, the upper classes don't know what to do or how to function. They drop their coats on the floor and thereafter everything rapidly falls apart. Enrique drops the hors d’oeuvre ragout, and then Pablo the chief wants to go an visit his sick sister. Even though everything has been prepared, Lucia is outraged. She is going to hold these useless servants to account.

The evening and the celebration for Leticia, the opera singer they call "the Valkyrie", never seems to take off and eventually they each decide to leave. This pleases Lucia, as she intends to conduct a little affair when they go, but somehow no-one seems to be able to leave the room. Perhaps the servants aren't there to open the doors for them. Trapped in uncomfortable proximity with each other in a room they are unable to leave, all the little insecurities they have kept hidden rise to the surface and they find themselves forced to enact them. The further the evening progresses and extends into days, the tensions and pretensions intensify and soon turn from petty arguments and affairs to violence and barbarism.

Buñuel's 1962 film is wildly absurd as it is, so imagine how much more the story must be when Thomas Adès and Calixto Bieito put their stamp on the opera version of the work. The essential theme that must carry over is surely to mercilessly rip into the pretensions of the upper classes and have fun in the process. Subtlety isn't essential, the more extreme the better. Adès certainly has fun introducing strange untypical sounds and instruments like the use of the ondes martenot into the buoyant orchestration. It's as richly and creatively scored as you can imagine, and Adès himself has tremendous fun conducting the Paris Orchestra through it. Yet it is not wild, but controlled, the implication being that the guests haven't lost their minds, they are simply being extreme, or perhaps just unrestrained versions of their true selves.

As a dramatic situation, that is inevitably limited. Taking place in one room where everyone seems to be losing their mind for two hours, the point seems to be made very quickly, and it's just a matter of seeing how far they can push this and what the eventual outcome or explanation for the strange event might be. Inevitably, there is no easy answer and there are many ways of looking at the resultant chaos and the ineffective ways they try to deal with it. The image of sheep - which Calixto Bieito manages to introduce in his own way - suggests conformity and inability to think for themselves to the extent that they are unable to leave a room unless everyone else does, or it could have religious connotations, which are certainly treated with scorn by Buñuel. That is also suggested here, even though the opera version does not include Buñuel's horror in the cathedral epilogue.

Given that, the question must be whether The Exterminating Angel gains anything by being an opera. Unquestionably Adès brings something fresh to the work. Making use of a wide variety of musical instruments and arrangements, it's as musically inventive as you would expect from this composer, finding varied expression for each of the characters, and layering them together with great skill. In terms of transferring those ideas to a stage production, this must be a rare case where the plot of the opera itself has an absurd side that even surpasses what Calixto Bieito usually brings to a production. But then we are talking about Luis Buñuel here, one of the original surrealists, and - while it might not seem like it - Bieito is actually more subtle and suggestive here than the original work. It could be just that the Catalan director has found a work that fits with his own sensibility and indeed I actually would be surprised if Buñuel wasn't a major influence.

If there is one slightly different stance or slant that the opera takes, it's maybe taking the opera evening aspect of the story and making a little more of the idea of musical resolution. This is there in the original, I seem to recall, but unsurprisingly perhaps it takes on another meaning when it is seen in the context of an opera itself, the guests seemingly unable to move until the unfinished playing of Paradisi by Blanca on the piano is brought to a conclusion. As if having to acknowledge that, Adès self-references his own music trapping the guests, and scores the opera singer at a higher pitch than the others, in the same range as Ariel in his version of The Tempest. The finale then, rather than follow Buñuel's cathedral ending, has all the surviving guests emerging dazed from the room, confronting their inner selves and suggesting (in my mind anyway) that the audience do likewise. You must wonder what the audience in the expensive seats at the Bastille make of it, and if that's the only intention in bringing The Exterminating Angel to the modern opera stage, it is surely justification enough.

While occasionally it seems like (controlled) chaos on the stage, there are actually many little touches in both the music, the direction and the singing performances to keep things moving along and give the viewer much to think about. Each of the characters have their own hang-ups and ways of dealing with being locked in that reveals another aspect of the society that the original creator wants to expose and mock. The singing alone is striking enough to grab your attention. There is an exceptional cast assembled here, and each have their own distinctive part to play. It's hard to just pick out one or two in a cast that includes great performances from Nicky Spence, Christine Rice, Philippe Sly, Anthony Roth Costanzo, Paul Gay and Clive Bayley, but Jacquelyn Stucker is exceptional as Lucia di Nobile, Claudia Boyle delivers an impressive lament/lullaby late in the opera for Silvia's son Yoli and Gloria Tronel hits those stratospheric heights as the opera singer Leticia.

External links: Opéra National de Paris, Paris Opera Play