Sellars on Tour
Glyndebourne Touring Opera; Idomeneo, 2 December, Theodora, 4 December, 2003
The annual visit to Oxford of Glyndebourne Touring Opera took place in the first week of December last year, too late to be reviewed in the Oxford Magazine in the last issue of the term. The visit featured two operas directed by Peter Sellars (a director audiences love to hate), co-directed for the Tour by Stephen Barlow and Clare Whistler, respectively. The first of these was Idomeneo, Mozart's great opera seria, inexplicably neglected for so long; the second was a staged version of Handel's late oratorio, Theodora, (not really an opera at all).
The story of Idomeneo, King of Crete, concerns his survival from shipwreck, by the intervention of Neptune, on condition that he sacrifices the first human being he sees on landing. This is his son, Idamante, who loves Ilya, a Trojan princess, and is loved by the Greek princess, Elettra (aka Electra). The drama centres on Idomeneo's efforts to avoid this commitment. (The assumption is that for any other he would have had no compunction.) These efforts include sending Idamante off to accompany Elettra back to Greece. This plan is prevented by Neptune, who brews up a storm and sends a monster to ravage the country. Idamante further exacerbates the situation by killing Neptune's pet monster. Just when the sacrifice appears inevitable, the gods relent, Idomeneo abdicates in favour of Idamante who is united with Ilya. Elettra in a jealous fury goes of to join her brother, Orestes, already with his own furies. (This would seem to imply that the setting of the opera post-dates the murder of Clytemnestra!)feature' of the production is that Glyndebourne engaged the distinguished artist, Anish Kapoor, to design the set. This was a mistake. What we get is a light-show in search of a musical accompaniment, instead of a light- show designed to accompany and enhance the music and drama of a great opera. It is singularly ill matched to the clean lines of the recitative-aria form of opera seria and fails completely to dramatise the storm which brings the monster at the climax of act two. And there was no monster! It is interesting to compare it to the set of Glyndebourne's Tristan und Isolde, also first seen last year, designed by Roland Aeschlimann. This has a similar concept but is thoroughly integrated into Wagner's drama and plays an important role in the success of that wonderful production.
The costumes were also a bit odd as if the designer wanted to make some vague contemporary ethnic point, distinguishing Trojans, Cretans and Greeks. But Elettra 's costume was completely bizarre. Wearing a curly blonde wig and a pink skirt and jacket (changed after the interval to a red trouser suit) she arrived as if making a guest appearance from a modern dress production as the eponymous heroine of the play by Eugene O'Neill. She was singularly ill-dressed for embarking on the journey from Crete to Greece even over a calm sea! (Do designers never read the script?)
The acting bore the director's trademark of gesticulating arms and exaggerated movement - a strange mixture of semaphore, miming and physical jerks. This was not all bad; in the choruses, when not too obtrusive, it enhanced the effect, but in the arias it was a distraction. An innovation was the introduction of doppelgangers of Ilya and Idamante, who mimed the words and sentiments of the singers. Not a good idea, Mr Sellars, - the surtitles were far more revealing.
Musically the standard was high. Ilya (Marie Arnet) opened act 1 singing most beautifully and most musically of her divided feelings of loyalty to her father's memory and her growing love for Idamante and sensitively developing her changing emotions during the course of the opera. Idamante (Julianne de Villiers) was a worthy partner, though with not with quite the same charisma. But the stars of the show were Cara O'Sullivan as Elettra and Peter Bronder in the title role. O'Sullivan was electrifying, her powerful voice expressing magnificently the love, jealousy, hope and finally jealous rage turned to hatred and bitterness at the end. Bronder represented impressively the emotions of Idomeneo, in particular in his great aria 'Fuor del Mar'. It was a shame that this was marred by the false gestures of the director instead of natural gestures of the drama.
On the whole, the orchestra played well under Kenneth Montgomery, except that there was some inexcusably ragged wind ensemble playing near the beginning. Also there was a group of brass players who caused distraction by entering the pit just before the finale. Surely the same rule should apply to the orchestra as to the audience - true professionals should not object to sitting through the act!
The greatness of Idomeneo as an opera stems from the way the characters develop their relationships as they twist and turn under the threat over Idamante. It must be to the credit of the director that this drama was transmitted through the production to the audience.
Theodora, seen two days later, was originally billed as a dramatic oratorio, though perhaps the only way a non-expert can tell the difference from an opera is that it is divided into three parts rather than three acts. Unlike the dramatic complexities of Idomeneo, this is a straightforward narrative of the martyrdom of Theodora, known to us now as St Dorothea, who escapes a fate worse than death only to die by execution. Theodora belongs to a group of Christians, led by Irene, who are prepared to defy an edict of the Roman, Valens, that all should worship his gods. Two Roman goodies, Didymus and Septimius, declare themselves against this edict and Didymus goes so far as to put his life on the line by helping Theodora to escape from a prison cell where she has been condemned to gang rape by Roman soldiery. Hearing Didymus has been captured, Theodora gives herself up in an attempt to save his life but both are executed.
This production was first seen (or avoided) at Glyndebourne in 1996, following a disgraceful production of Zauberflöte on Sellars' debut there the year before. It is notorious for the arm waving and gesticulation which we saw also in Idomeneo, which was still found unacceptable when Theodora was shown on television a year or two later. On this occasion, the gesturing seemed less offensive, perhaps for one of two reasons. Either audiences have been so battered by outrageous productions in the interim that they have become inured or the gesturing itself has been softened to be more musical and less obtrusive. I believe the latter is the more likely. As with Idomeneo, in parts it was almost acceptable. Nevertheless, there remained a tension between music and action.
The settings and costumes are modern. Valens (Henry Waddington) who opens the proceedings is convincing as a boorish, bullying tyrant of the type all too common in the modern world and there are many countries in recent history in which the opera could be set. Unfortunately, his attempt at wickedness nearly broke his voice in his first aria. Theodora was sung by Vanessa Woodfine, substituting for the indisposed Anne-Lise Sollied. She acquitted herself more than adequately in the circumstances. After a slightly tentative start, her singing and dramatic presentation gave a touching portrayal of this tragic heroine. The prison scene, in which she was symbolically confined by a square of light, was particularly moving. The counter-tenor singing Didymus was disappointing but, musically, the stars of the show were Christine Rice, with her warm mezzo, and Paul Nilon as Septimius.
The decision to see this production was a late one, based on the rave reviews in the press for the conducting of Emmanuelle Haïm. Haïm burst onto the English musical scene with the concert performance of Orfeo in 2002, conducting her own Concert d'Astrèe in an unforgettable musical experience. Alas, in Oxford, the baton was taken by Laurence Cummings. The opening bars of the overture were terrible! Although things improved a great deal for much of Parts I and II, by the end of Part II, Handel was on his own. The final scene was devoted to a realistic staging of the execution by lethal injection of Theodora and Didymus. This was very powerful stuff in itself but left little for Handel to do - the music seemed superfluous.
This production exemplified the dilemma of modern audiences for opera (baroque opera in particular) these days - whether to go for staged performances, risking a production which distracts from, rather than enhances, enjoyment of the music or whether to play safe and make do with concert performances. This was brought home on this occasion in that the previous week there was, at the Barbican, a concert version of Handel's Xerxes with a star-studded cast, under the baton of William Christie, with Les Arts Florissants. This was totally engrossing from the first bar to the last, three and a half hours later (a similar length to Theodora). This was, in fact, a concert version (for reasons of economy?) of a staging in Paris. How this was received is not known. However, a modern dress staging of Rameau's Les Boréades in Paris in March involving the same musicians was panned by the critics (inter alia castigating Barbara Bonney for her 'baroque Esperanto')! The same production in concert at the Barbican was utterly magical.
Of course, in concert versions one is short-changed on the visual element, important to the full appreciation of baroque opera. These days one strives for authenticity in instrumentation and musical sound -why not visually as well? (One could go too far: I once sat next to a German musicologist at a concert performance of a baroque opera. She complained bitterly that it was not authentic. By this, she did not mean the absence of costumes and décor. Rather the fact that the audience were not eating and drinking and talking during the performance!) However, one must not rule out non-period settings. Two recent productions illustrate how a sympathetic director can make them work. - Glyndebourne's Rodelinda, of 1998 and the prime example, the staging of Handel's other great late oratorio, Jephtha, by Katie Mitchell for Welsh National Opera, a poignant and harrowing production with a similar plot structure to Idomeneo, set in biblical times.
Directing opera is not like directing spoken drama. In the latter the director is free to make his own interpretation of the story. In opera, an interpretation has already been given by the composer. It is the director's task to visualise and build on this interpretation, not to impose an additional, alternative interpretation of his own. This discipline should be fundamental to all opera production. Opera managers should not employ directors who do not understand this.
From The Enjoyment of Opera
Glyndebourne Touring Opera; Idomeneo, 2 December, Theodora, 4 December, 2003
The annual visit to Oxford of Glyndebourne Touring Opera took place in the first week of December last year, too late to be reviewed in the Oxford Magazine in the last issue of the term. The visit featured two operas directed by Peter Sellars (a director audiences love to hate), co-directed for the Tour by Stephen Barlow and Clare Whistler, respectively. The first of these was Idomeneo, Mozart's great opera seria, inexplicably neglected for so long; the second was a staged version of Handel's late oratorio, Theodora, (not really an opera at all).
The story of Idomeneo, King of Crete, concerns his survival from shipwreck, by the intervention of Neptune, on condition that he sacrifices the first human being he sees on landing. This is his son, Idamante, who loves Ilya, a Trojan princess, and is loved by the Greek princess, Elettra (aka Electra). The drama centres on Idomeneo's efforts to avoid this commitment. (The assumption is that for any other he would have had no compunction.) These efforts include sending Idamante off to accompany Elettra back to Greece. This plan is prevented by Neptune, who brews up a storm and sends a monster to ravage the country. Idamante further exacerbates the situation by killing Neptune's pet monster. Just when the sacrifice appears inevitable, the gods relent, Idomeneo abdicates in favour of Idamante who is united with Ilya. Elettra in a jealous fury goes of to join her brother, Orestes, already with his own furies. (This would seem to imply that the setting of the opera post-dates the murder of Clytemnestra!)feature' of the production is that Glyndebourne engaged the distinguished artist, Anish Kapoor, to design the set. This was a mistake. What we get is a light-show in search of a musical accompaniment, instead of a light- show designed to accompany and enhance the music and drama of a great opera. It is singularly ill matched to the clean lines of the recitative-aria form of opera seria and fails completely to dramatise the storm which brings the monster at the climax of act two. And there was no monster! It is interesting to compare it to the set of Glyndebourne's Tristan und Isolde, also first seen last year, designed by Roland Aeschlimann. This has a similar concept but is thoroughly integrated into Wagner's drama and plays an important role in the success of that wonderful production.
The costumes were also a bit odd as if the designer wanted to make some vague contemporary ethnic point, distinguishing Trojans, Cretans and Greeks. But Elettra 's costume was completely bizarre. Wearing a curly blonde wig and a pink skirt and jacket (changed after the interval to a red trouser suit) she arrived as if making a guest appearance from a modern dress production as the eponymous heroine of the play by Eugene O'Neill. She was singularly ill-dressed for embarking on the journey from Crete to Greece even over a calm sea! (Do designers never read the script?)
The acting bore the director's trademark of gesticulating arms and exaggerated movement - a strange mixture of semaphore, miming and physical jerks. This was not all bad; in the choruses, when not too obtrusive, it enhanced the effect, but in the arias it was a distraction. An innovation was the introduction of doppelgangers of Ilya and Idamante, who mimed the words and sentiments of the singers. Not a good idea, Mr Sellars, - the surtitles were far more revealing.
Musically the standard was high. Ilya (Marie Arnet) opened act 1 singing most beautifully and most musically of her divided feelings of loyalty to her father's memory and her growing love for Idamante and sensitively developing her changing emotions during the course of the opera. Idamante (Julianne de Villiers) was a worthy partner, though with not with quite the same charisma. But the stars of the show were Cara O'Sullivan as Elettra and Peter Bronder in the title role. O'Sullivan was electrifying, her powerful voice expressing magnificently the love, jealousy, hope and finally jealous rage turned to hatred and bitterness at the end. Bronder represented impressively the emotions of Idomeneo, in particular in his great aria 'Fuor del Mar'. It was a shame that this was marred by the false gestures of the director instead of natural gestures of the drama.
On the whole, the orchestra played well under Kenneth Montgomery, except that there was some inexcusably ragged wind ensemble playing near the beginning. Also there was a group of brass players who caused distraction by entering the pit just before the finale. Surely the same rule should apply to the orchestra as to the audience - true professionals should not object to sitting through the act!
The greatness of Idomeneo as an opera stems from the way the characters develop their relationships as they twist and turn under the threat over Idamante. It must be to the credit of the director that this drama was transmitted through the production to the audience.
Theodora, seen two days later, was originally billed as a dramatic oratorio, though perhaps the only way a non-expert can tell the difference from an opera is that it is divided into three parts rather than three acts. Unlike the dramatic complexities of Idomeneo, this is a straightforward narrative of the martyrdom of Theodora, known to us now as St Dorothea, who escapes a fate worse than death only to die by execution. Theodora belongs to a group of Christians, led by Irene, who are prepared to defy an edict of the Roman, Valens, that all should worship his gods. Two Roman goodies, Didymus and Septimius, declare themselves against this edict and Didymus goes so far as to put his life on the line by helping Theodora to escape from a prison cell where she has been condemned to gang rape by Roman soldiery. Hearing Didymus has been captured, Theodora gives herself up in an attempt to save his life but both are executed.
This production was first seen (or avoided) at Glyndebourne in 1996, following a disgraceful production of Zauberflöte on Sellars' debut there the year before. It is notorious for the arm waving and gesticulation which we saw also in Idomeneo, which was still found unacceptable when Theodora was shown on television a year or two later. On this occasion, the gesturing seemed less offensive, perhaps for one of two reasons. Either audiences have been so battered by outrageous productions in the interim that they have become inured or the gesturing itself has been softened to be more musical and less obtrusive. I believe the latter is the more likely. As with Idomeneo, in parts it was almost acceptable. Nevertheless, there remained a tension between music and action.
The settings and costumes are modern. Valens (Henry Waddington) who opens the proceedings is convincing as a boorish, bullying tyrant of the type all too common in the modern world and there are many countries in recent history in which the opera could be set. Unfortunately, his attempt at wickedness nearly broke his voice in his first aria. Theodora was sung by Vanessa Woodfine, substituting for the indisposed Anne-Lise Sollied. She acquitted herself more than adequately in the circumstances. After a slightly tentative start, her singing and dramatic presentation gave a touching portrayal of this tragic heroine. The prison scene, in which she was symbolically confined by a square of light, was particularly moving. The counter-tenor singing Didymus was disappointing but, musically, the stars of the show were Christine Rice, with her warm mezzo, and Paul Nilon as Septimius.
The decision to see this production was a late one, based on the rave reviews in the press for the conducting of Emmanuelle Haïm. Haïm burst onto the English musical scene with the concert performance of Orfeo in 2002, conducting her own Concert d'Astrèe in an unforgettable musical experience. Alas, in Oxford, the baton was taken by Laurence Cummings. The opening bars of the overture were terrible! Although things improved a great deal for much of Parts I and II, by the end of Part II, Handel was on his own. The final scene was devoted to a realistic staging of the execution by lethal injection of Theodora and Didymus. This was very powerful stuff in itself but left little for Handel to do - the music seemed superfluous.
This production exemplified the dilemma of modern audiences for opera (baroque opera in particular) these days - whether to go for staged performances, risking a production which distracts from, rather than enhances, enjoyment of the music or whether to play safe and make do with concert performances. This was brought home on this occasion in that the previous week there was, at the Barbican, a concert version of Handel's Xerxes with a star-studded cast, under the baton of William Christie, with Les Arts Florissants. This was totally engrossing from the first bar to the last, three and a half hours later (a similar length to Theodora). This was, in fact, a concert version (for reasons of economy?) of a staging in Paris. How this was received is not known. However, a modern dress staging of Rameau's Les Boréades in Paris in March involving the same musicians was panned by the critics (inter alia castigating Barbara Bonney for her 'baroque Esperanto')! The same production in concert at the Barbican was utterly magical.
Of course, in concert versions one is short-changed on the visual element, important to the full appreciation of baroque opera. These days one strives for authenticity in instrumentation and musical sound -why not visually as well? (One could go too far: I once sat next to a German musicologist at a concert performance of a baroque opera. She complained bitterly that it was not authentic. By this, she did not mean the absence of costumes and décor. Rather the fact that the audience were not eating and drinking and talking during the performance!) However, one must not rule out non-period settings. Two recent productions illustrate how a sympathetic director can make them work. - Glyndebourne's Rodelinda, of 1998 and the prime example, the staging of Handel's other great late oratorio, Jephtha, by Katie Mitchell for Welsh National Opera, a poignant and harrowing production with a similar plot structure to Idomeneo, set in biblical times.
Directing opera is not like directing spoken drama. In the latter the director is free to make his own interpretation of the story. In opera, an interpretation has already been given by the composer. It is the director's task to visualise and build on this interpretation, not to impose an additional, alternative interpretation of his own. This discipline should be fundamental to all opera production. Opera managers should not employ directors who do not understand this.
From The Enjoyment of Opera