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One of the central cornerstones of ancient Greek theology was the dual concept of ‘hubris’ (overweening pride) and ‘nemesis’ (being taught a lesson by the gods as a result, usually unpleasantly). Icarus’ ill-fated attempt at flying is the normal example of this given in the classroom, though the current state of the Irish economy also fits the bill. Or how about last Friday’s production of Verdi’s Aida?
With tickets starting at €70 and going on up to over €150, this was billed as the “biggest arena production ever staged in Europe” and “one of the most spectacular productions of Aida ever staged. The first claim can be dismissed on paper straightaway, as the O2 in Dublin can accommodate 14,500 (standing) or 9,500 (seated), as opposed to the 15,000 seated audience-goers that the Arena di Verona can handle. The latter claim is also quite a push, especially given the Zeffirelli production still in rep at the New York Met, which was screened worldwide on the October 24 HD simulcast. Still, no need to nit-pick – the central concept was that this ‘spectacular’ would ‘wow’ Irish audiences. In a piece in the Irish Independent on October 3, it was said that:
Opera, it’s fair to say, isn’t for everyone. As a cultural outlet, it’s viewed by some as esoteric and elitist and by others as boring and impenetrable. One way to counteract such prejudices and fears is to make opera more accessible and give those in the stalls more bang for their buck. That’s exactly what Irish audiences will get this December when a truly spectacular production of Giuseppe Verdi’s Aida is staged in The O2 for one night only…
OK, fair enough… maybe, up to a point. But didn’t they do Aida at the Point (as the O2 was formerly known) back in 1994? With the National Symphony Orchestra and the Army Band and hundreds of singers from local choirs?
Interestingly, for the weeks leading up to that article being published (during which all the affordable seats were hastily sold), no cast or creative team was mentioned anywhere. And the Amneris (Ines Olabarria) who was interviewed there didn’t appear – the role was actually sung by Stefania Scolastici.
So how did they do? The reports I’ve heard sound pretty dire. Unspectacular singing, flat sets that had to be clumsily assembled and disassembled in full view (to a slow hand-clap, apparently), the grand march peopled by a rent-a-crowd bunch of lads seemingly picked at random off the street who couldn’t march, extras wandering about not knowing what they were doing, technicians arguing with each other. No programmes to tell you what the story was about. No view of the surtitles if you were in the ‘wrong’ seats. But the ballet was good, at least, so that’s something. Apparently the overall impression, though, was of a show more embarrassing than your average school production – for ticket prices that would get you quite a good seat in the Paris Opera or even Covent Garden. And the O2 and Ticketmaster bought it. What a waste.
For the record, here’s Michael Dervan’s review in the Irish Times.
Charlotte and Werther: image courtesy of Opera North
As there’s no established opera company (or house) in Ireland producing work through the year, we have to make do with the short seasons of Opera Ireland, and the valiant work of touring companies, leading to months where very little happens and then times, like the next month or so, when there’s almost too much to see. Given that access to opera is now under threat more than ever before in Ireland (for details of the Irish Arts Council’s plan, read Michael Dervan’s reports here and, more recently, here), October and November might be the busiest for a while, so enjoy it while you can…
First out of the blocks on October 17 is Opera Theatre Company, with the last of its three productions for the Handel anniversary year. After Xerxes and Acis & Galatea, it’s time for one of his greatest operas, Alcina – quite possibly an Irish premiere. Directed by Annilese Miskimmon with design by Nicky Shaw, lighting by Tina MacHugh and conducted by Christian Curnyn, the cast includes Irish sopranos Sinead Campbell-Wallace (Alcina) and Doreen Curran (Bradamante) with Steven Wallace (Ruggiero), Jane Harrington (Morgana), Julian Hubbard (Melisso) and Ed Lyon (Oronte). The touring dates are as follows:
October 17 – Navan; October 20 – Derry; October 22 – Carlow; October 24 – Bray; October 27 – Armagh; October 29 – Tallaght; November 1 – Limerick; November 3 – Galway; November 5 – Dundalk; November 7 – Cork. Booking details for each of the venues is here. A good thing to note is their first date in Carlow, following the opening of the new Shaw Theatre in Carlow town – will this be the first staged opera in the county not under canvas?
Next up, on October 21, is the opening of this year’s Wexford Festival, which carries on through to November 1, with mainbill productions of The Ghosts of Versailles (John Corigliano), Maria Padilla (Donizetti) and a double-bill of Une éducation manquée (Chabrier) and La cambiale di matrimonio (Rossini). As noted earlier, the dates of the festival were cut back to reduce costs, so the whole season is pretty much sold out at this stage, but returns are always possible….
The Grand Opera House in Belfast hosts Opera North‘s touring programme on October 28-31, with productions of Così fan tutte (Mozart) and Werther (Massenet) – sadly we don’t get to see their new production of The Adventures of Mr Brouček (Janáček). Still, the Werther has attracted a lot of interest and good reviews over in Britain (such as Rupert Christiansen in the DT), in particular for Alice Coote’s performance of Charlotte, so it should be well worth seeing.
Finally, of course, there is Opera Ireland, which opens its Winter season on November 14 with Verdi’s Macbeth, with performances on Nov 16, 18, 20 & 22 as well – all at 8pm in the Gaiety Theatre, Dublin. Directed by Dieter Kaegi, designed by Ferdia Murphy, and conducted by Marco Zambelli, the cast includes Bruno Caproni in the title role, with Michele Capalbo (Lady Macbeth), Valarian Ruminski (Banco) and Kamen Chanev (Macduff). Thanks to funding uncertainties, they have shelved doing a second staged production this season (and the next), and instead will present a concert performance of Wagner’s Das Rheingold on November 19 & 21 in the Gaiety. Roman Brogli-Sacher conducts, with a cast that includes plenty of Irish singers, including Paul McNamara (Froh), Orla Boylan (Freia), Imelda Drumm (Fricka) and Gerard O’Connor (Fafner), along with Louise Walsh, Catherine Hegarty and Vicky Massey as the Rhinemaidens. The other main roles are sung by Vitalij Kowaljov (Wotan), Rainer Zaun (Alberich) and Arnold Bezuyen (Loge). You can book for these shows through Opera Ireland or the Gaiety Theatre.
David McVicar
It was very exciting to be in the Grand Opera House in Belfast last Thursday night for Scottish Opera’s touring production of La traviata (Verdi). Not only was it Scottish Opera’s first return to Northern Ireland since 1990, but on the back of it we also got to see a production by one of today’s leading UK opera directors, David McVicar, whose incisive stage work has excited a lot of interest (and people). As far as I know, it was the first time that any of his productions have been staged in Ireland, so cause for celebration!
For a flavour of what the guy is like – and his approach to opera – read this interview with Jessica Duchen in the Independent. His work with opera reaches aspects of the works that other productions rarely come anywhere near, and his detailed approach to staging, context and motivation show how opera can really benefit from a deeply theatrical imagination.
McVicar’s approach to Traviata (previewed in the London Times… and by the inimitable Opera Chic) was to blow the cobwebs from this piece and explore the human tensions and relationships that underpin the story. So no fashion parade in the first act – instead we were thrust into the world of the Parisian demi-monde, the exclusive underworld salons of male entertainment. Set in the 1890s, the design clearly drew on the work of artists such as Toulouse-Lautrec and (especially) Degas, with a subtle dose of surrealism supplied by having the words of Violetta’s tombstone inscribed across the floor of the stage. Indeed, the sense of her own mortality – and the strange wisdom that comes with that – was always evident, as she clings onto her life in the first act simply out of a need to survive, before deciding to accept Alfredo’s love. In so many productions, Alfredo is portrayed as an imbecile, so it was a pleasant change instead to realise that his tragedy is not so much his blindness as the fact that he realises – too late – that everyone, his father included, has been keeping knowledge away from him, and that he simply fails to understand the situation that he’s in. It perhaps doesn’t make his character much better, but at least his motivation becomes clearer, and the end of Act 2 really became his nightmare all the more. On the night I went the original Violetta, Carmen Giannattasio was sadly indisposed, with the role sung instead by Sarah Redgwick, who sang and acted the role beautifully.
As with any great production, it was great to be able to learn more about this work.
Just an idle thought I had….
Was over in London the other week and saw the National Theatre’s in-yer-face production of The Revenger’s Tragedy (which, after decades of scholarly wrangling, one is finally allowed to say is – probably – by Thomas Middleton). It was great fun, a very loud/garish/modern interpretation of a very visceral play. Forget As You Like It. Like T.S. Eliot put it, those Jacobeans just couldn’t help dramatising “the skull beneath the skin”. Anyway, there I was lapping it all up, and I couldn’t spotting opera references, admittedly a pretty perverse thing to do since The RT was first performed in 1606. In London. But, whatever – it was just too tempting… the inter-generational love triangle between Spurio and the Duke couldn’t help reminding me of the Father-Son situation with Elisabeth de Valois in Verdi’s Don Carlos (in a very strange way, granted), while the overall scenario was peppered with some of the same narrative turns that appear in Rigoletto. A debauched court, presided over by a corrupt Duke. A murder plot that goes horribly wrong, with a mixup leading to a body-bag with the wrong body (containing the precious relative instead of the enemy). An ‘innocent’ man, seeking revenge and vindication, only to find himself unwittingly becoming the agent of destruction of the one thing he most wanted to protect….
Verdi’s librettist, Piave, based Rigoletto on Victor Hugo’s controversial play Le roi s’amuse (1832)). It is known that Hugo had some exposure to English drama after he first arrived in Paris in the mid-1820s, but even so, it’s very unlikely that Hugo could have known this strange play. But you can’t help wondering….
This comes from a presentation script I wrote to introduce Verdi’s Falstaff, going out on RTE Lyric fm next Saturday… inspired (partly) by an ill-managed edition of the Late Review on BBC2 a few months back, when they tried to sound off on Verdi’s Macbeth. All I want to say here is that Verdi’s Shakespeare isn’t the same as the RSC’s (or anyone else’s) Shakespeare, and provides a valuable lesson on the ebb and flow of cultural traces across borders. Once it’s out there, that’s it…
Verdi’s work as a whole reflects a deep awareness of community, both literally with his audience and the wider society in which he lived, as well as the imagined community of writers and artists from the past whose work so inspired him. These included well-known figures such as Victor Hugo and Friedrich Schiller, as well as others like Guttierez and Saavedra. But chief amongst these for Verdi was the English dramatist William Shakespeare. It’s significant that the last two operas Verdi composed were both adaptations of Shakespeare plays, with Otello from Othello, and then Falstaff from the comedy The Merry Wives of Windsor. It’s a common and understandable mistake nowadays to assume that Verdi’s love of Shakespeare included within it an appreciation for the Shakespearean performing traditions within English theatre. However, we have to realise that, like most well-read Italians of his generation, Verdi would have known Shakespeare in the prose translations of Carlo Rusconi, possibly supplemented with some of the new Shakespeare criticism then emerging from leading writers of the day, most of whom were not English but German. It’s fair to say that part of what drew Verdi to Shakespeare was not only the works in themselves, but also the fact that Shakespeare himself was such a cosmopolitan writer, whose works among other things betray a deep awareness of their roots in Italian and Latin theatre. Strip Falstaff of its Elizabethan English setting, and what you have is a classic farce of the commedia dell’arte tradition. Verdi’s not so much paying homage to a foreign writer from the damp north, but rather giving him a new home, re-integrating Shakespeare’s dramatic style even more deeply into Italian theatre.
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