Thursday 10 November 2011

Review: Ruddigore, Opera North, Theatre Royal, Newcastle


by Sarah E Scott, Evening Chronicle

IF you have an aversion to all things operatic may I heartily recommend this glorious portal.

Ruddigore is super-silly late Victorian Gilbert and Sullivan melodrama entranced into the 20s. The era of silent film goes beautifully with a story as subtle as a pair of fluorescent jodhpurs.

This is gothic sublime, melodrama fabulous. Forgive the over-long first act, with its clunky, archaic spoken words. Revel instead in the gorgeous, delicately seasoned overture (polite but heartfelt clapping for the orchestra under conductor John Wilson) with a witty silent, flickering film which firmly sets the 20s tone.

It is the men who get the best parts. We have the utterly winsome Grant Doyle as hero/antihero Sir Ruthven Murgatroyd, who has understandably skittered away from his responsibility as a naughty Baronet of Ruddigore.

This doomed aristocrat must commit, every day a crime in a ‘conscientious and workmanlike fashion’, or risk an unbelievably painful death.

So Sir Ruthven has become Robin Oakapple and left his put-upon brother (a revellingly moustachioed Richard Burkhard as Sir Despard Murgatroyd) the daily burden of bad. Both performers are masters of lightning-quick enunciation and are gloriously funny. Their performances are an utter joy.

Ruddigore, at its best, is seriously wicked and heaps of fun despite the fact that the plot’s resolution has more holes than a spider’s boudoir. And let’s sweep over the fact that the most desirous female on stage is obviously a nutter – Heather Ship works wonders with the seemingly impossible role of sexy lunatic Mad Margaret.

The production values of this are particularly fine, what with all that subtle contrasted lighting and the portraits coming to life. The resurrected paintings represent the main reason this Gilbert and Sullivan gem has been shunned for so long.


Original review click here

Monday 3 October 2011

Ruddigore: Opera North, 30th September 2011

by Geoffrey Mogridge

Ruddigore - or the Witch's Curse - originally spelt Ruddygore and dubbed by W.S Gilbert himself as "Bloodybore", received mixed reviews by leading critics of the day. There can be little doubt that the piece suffered by comparison with the sustained brilliance of its immediate predecessor, The Mikado. Gilbert's dialogue for Ruddigore was dismissed by the New York Times critic as "amusing here and there" in the first act and as "slow and tedious" in the second.

Composer and librettist made adjustments and some cuts in the days following the 1887 premiere at London's Savoy Theatre before Ruddigore was taken off after a relatively short run of 288 performances. The piece was never revived during the lifetimes of its composer or author and did not return to the repertory of the D'Oyly Carte Opera Company until December 1920, remaining in the Carte's touring repertory until the company's sad demise in 1982.

Opera North's production directed by Jo Davies and premiered last year under the baton of light music crusader John Wilson recreates the version of the musical score which both Gilbert and Sullivan finally settled upon. The company reckons that it is 120 years since this "definitive" version restoring Sullivan's orchestrations which had been tampered with prior to the 1920 revival, has been performed. Amongst re-instated musical numbers are the lovely duet for Rose Maybud and Richard Dauntless "The battle's roar is over", and "For happy the lily" (the "Basingstoke" patter finale) in the original 9/8 time.

Although the action has been updated from the period of the Napoleonic Wars to the aftermath of the First World War, the Victorian critics who slammed Gilbert's libretto would probably spin round in their graves to discover that it remains untouched more than 120 years later - save for the insertion of an additional verse in Sir Ruthven's song "All the crimes I find in The Times". The new text amusingly parodies the MPs' expenses scandal, tabloid journalism hacking, and the recent appearances of the wife of the Speaker of the House of Commons in Celebrity Big Brother!

Every syllable of the libretto, whether spoken or sung, is made to sound as fresh and witty as if the ink had barely dried on the manuscripts. Davies infuses her production with boundless energy and movement to counter any sense of dragging or slackening off, during the singing of musical numbers or protracted sections of spoken dialogue. For example, during her charming song "If somebody there chanced to be" the demure Rose Maybud sung by the delightful Amy Freston is required to up-end her bed to retrieve the precious Book of Etiquette from where it has been concealed by Rose's aunt, Dame Hannah. The critics who considered Act II to be slow and tedious would be delighted by the synergy which Davies has created; the scene in which the ghosts of the baronets of Ruddigore inquire into the crimes that the current Bad Baronet has committed is one of hilarious pandemonium as the ghosts, with much noise and bustle, re-arrange the furniture on stage to clear the space for the "inquiry". Davies also extracts abundant energy and humour from the repeated interventions of the corps of professional bridesmaids led by Gillene Herbert's feisty Zorah with the sopranos and altos of the Opera North Chorus. The ladies are required to rush around with predatory yelps and handfuls of confetti, besieging every potential bride and groom.

Conductor John Wilson and every member of the original cast have returned to reprise their performances: Grant Doyle's warm and well nourished baritone is a revelation to those of us brought up on much lighter voices in the dual role of Robin Oakapple and Sir Ruthven Murgatroyd. Doyle's delivery of the patter songs is just as razor sharp as the classic D'Oyly Carte principal comedians of yesteryear. Sir Despard Murgatroyd is sung by the wonderfully saturnine Richard Burkhard who with white face make -up, top hat and swirling cloak epitomises the villain of Victorian melodrama. His Act I entrance amidst the 1920s seaside paraphernalia of a Punch and Judy theatre is a masterstroke.

The nimble Hal Cazalet presents Richard Dauntless, the Man O' War's Man and foster-brother to Sir Ruthven Murgatroyd as a macho, tattooed lothario. Cazalet has a lovely lyric tenor, quite ravishing in The battle's roar is over" - effectively a love duet with Rose - and agile and flexible in his introductory number "I shipped, d'ye see, in a revenue sloop". This is vigorously choreographed by Kay Shepherd with some brightly dressed sailors turning cartwheels and Cazalet proving that he can dance a hornpipe with the best of them. The multi-tasking Amy Freston as Rose is in beautiful voice throughout, her phrasing is supple and the top notes immaculately placed. Richard Angas plays Robin's faithful retainer Old Adam Goodheart. The towering and sepulchral-toned Angas and Sir Ruthven open Act II in the heavy gothic atmosphere of the oak panelled baronial hall dominated by the ancestral picture gallery and a huge writing desk where they map-out the daily crime which Sir Ruthven is now cursed to commit. At one point, Angas staggers on wielding a huge axe and looking as though he's stepped from the pages of Edgar Allen Poe's The Fall of the House of Usher.



Heather Shipp creates a beautifully studied and spidery portrayal of Mad Margaret, not really mad but just a smidgeon unhinged and slightly unsettling. We first encounter Margaret wheeling her worldly possessions in a pram before singing her dramatic and poignant "mad" scene "Cheerily carols the lark" heralded by a beautiful flute solo. Anne-Marie Owens' plum pudding contralto voice is perfect for the "gorgon" role of the redoubtable Dame Hannah who becomes "Little Nannikins" in the touching duet "There grew a little flower and a great oak tree" with the fearsome ghost of Sir Roderic Murgatroyd sung by Steven Page who is dressed in army khaki as a First World War General. Page initially appears (and disappears) heavily robed and hooded like the Monk in Don Carlos and there's a clever illusion when he seems to vanish into thin air and the terrified Sir Ruthven is left holding the empty robes! Page's dark baritone and impeccable diction superbly intones "When the night wind howls" with the chorus of ghostly ancestors and cushioned by some of Sullivan's most vividly descriptive orchestral writing.

Sepia-tinted sets and costumes respectively created by Richard Hudson and Gabrielle Dalton with muted, atmospheric lighting designed by Anna Watson contribute to a production that is ravishing to behold. The silvery grey sea and pale blue sky for the Cornish coastal village in Act I imbue the scene with the quaint charm of a 1920s picture postcard resort. This, with the flying-in of oak pews and screens becomes the church for the extended finale to Act I. The picture gallery of Act II fills the full height of the proscenium and tapers to a point at the back of the stage inducing a feeling of claustrophobia as the ghostly ancestors of Ruddigore appear as if by magic behind the portraits amidst the obligatory lightning flashes and amplified rumbles of thunder.



Everything gels under the baton of John Wilson who clearly has the measure of Gilbert & Sullivan, like the great Sir Charles Mackerras before him. Wilson takes things at a brisk pace but is careful to shine light on detail and he meticulously delineates orchestral and vocal textures. I don't think that I have ever heard the Act I finale with so much inner detail, such as the intricately beautiful harmonies of the pseudo-madrigal "When the buds are blossoming" sung here with palpable joy by the entire company.

My only (small) criticism is that the lengthy overture needed pruning; this was set to "once upon a time" images and text recounting the legend of the Witch's Curse and projected onto the front-piece. Dame Hannah fully explains everything soon afterwards in her opening number "Sir Rupert Murgatroyd", sung with stentorian richness and firmness of tone by Anne-Marie Owens. A small carp which it seems almost churlish to mention because this terrific production of a hitherto under-rated Savoy opera oozes so much humour and visceral energy from an expert cast who now inhabit their roles. In fact it's ruddy marvellous!





Photographs (c): Robert Workman

Saturday 1 October 2011

Ruddigore, Opera North

A slick, witty but affecting Gilbert and Sullivan revival

Revived with almost indecent haste, Jo Davies’s 2010 production of Gilbert and Sullivan’s Ruddigore now feels even more polished and slick. Slickness is not a derogatory term here; this staging hits the spot in pretty much every way – musically, dramatically and visually.

Davies’s shrewdest move is to shift Gilbert’s creaky satire on the excesses of Victorian melodrama forward to the 1920s, a period now more closely associated with the genre – think silent cinema, big moustaches and shiny top hats. There are also several nice nods to 1930s horror films, and a witty sequence of scratchy slides shown just before the curtain rises. These give us the operetta’s back story – that of the cursed line of Murgatroyd baronets, each successive title holder condemned to commit a serious crime each day or face an agonising death.  Structurally it’s an unbalanced work – Act One is overlong and too discursive, followed by a tighter second half which concludes nonsensically and a little too abruptly. The plot is full of holes. But it’s still very, very funny – watch this Ruddigore as a series of brilliant set pieces and you’ll leave the theatre immensely satisfied.

 

Davies’s teasing hints of the drama to come are so delicious that there’s a rather long wait before the action really kicks off – at the point where the villainous Sir Despard (a superb Richard Burkhard) makes his dastardly entrance through a Punch and Judy tent. His elder brother Ruthven, having faked his own death and now living quietly under an assumed name, is unmasked, leading to a beautifully choreographed wedding scene where he is suddenly forced to take on the cape, the cane and the top hat, abandoning his bride to be for a life of crime. Grant Doyle is a joy as the imposter, best of all in his scenes with his foster brother Dick Dauntless – especially during an extended sequence where he wins the attention of village sweetheart Rose Maybud by describing what Dick might really have been getting up to whilst at sea. Dick’s entrance leads to a nicely choreographed re-enactment of a French naval battle played out by flag waving bridesmaids (pictured above right). It’s marvellous to watch, and Hal Cazalet is as agile vocally as he is with his feet. Amy Freston as Rose convinces as a woman vainly trying to lead her life according to the advice contained in an etiquette manual, subtly unbuttoning and loosening up before our eyes.

Act Two’s technical challenges are surmounted with ease - notably the moment where the Murgatroyd portraits descend from their picture frames to harass Sir Ruthven, too mild-mannered to commit atrocities more serious than forging cheques. Richard Stilgoe has provided yet more updated lyrics – mentioning phone hacking, Greek debt and Sally Bercow. It’s gorgeously lit by Anna Watson – I’ve rarely seen outdoor skies look so natural. And it’s conducted by the remarkable, precocious John Wilson, lifting every rhythm and pacing each patter song to perfection. Bad Gilbert and Sullivan productions are pure torture. This one is lavish, affectionate and witty.
  • Ruddigore at the Grand Theatre Leeds until 27 October, then on tour to Nottingham, Newcastle, Salford and London
Link to original review here

    Saturday 17 September 2011

    Moby Dick: State Opera of South Australia


    Making an opera out of something http://img402.imageshack.us/img402/896/samobydick3.jpgthat on the one hand is considered to be a great metaphysical novel and, on the other, is a massive book filled with specific detail about life on a 19th century deep sea whaler, must represent something of a challenge.  It comes as no surprise that Jake Heggie took some five years over Moby Dick, initially working with playwright Terrence McNally and then, after he withdrew, with librettist Gene Scheer.


    The resulting work manages to suggest both aspects of the novel.  It conveys the destructive quest of the obsessive Ahab for the white whale against the better interests and judgements of his crew (especially Starbuck) and its symbolic nature, and also hints at the nature of life on board the Pequod.  Overall, Heggie and Scheer achieve this by concentrating on the delineation of a few key characters (compared to the 30 or so in the novel), and streamlining the narrative;  there is for example only one instance of the ship pursuing a whale other than Moby Dick.  It is a highly successful compression which embraces Melville’s themes within a clear narrative structure.

    There is little place for a narrator in an opera;  Melville’s famous opening line, “Call me Ishmael”, is missing, and the opera opens on board the ship.  This character is known throughout as (the) Greenhorn, and only at the very end of the opera, as he floats, sole survivor, on Queequeg’s coffin, does he utter those words to his unseen rescuer, thus informing us of how the tale came to be told.
    Excerpts from the book are chosen with care to illustrate its focus on the discourses which are central to it, such as the role of religion in the lives of men (sic), and the relationship of man to nature.  In the opening scene, Ishmael/Greenhorn rants at Queequeg for praying to his god, affecting to despise all religion.  Starbuck disparages Ahab’s quest for vengeance, declaring it madness to want revenge on a unreasoning animal, “to be enraged by a dumb thing”.

    On first hearing, there is an almost perfect blend of words and music, but in a sense this leaves the music seeming somewhat unmemorable, almost like movie music.  It is almost unfailingly melodic, with an appropriate use of bells, and much brass for stormy and climactic moments.  There are hints of earlier works which may or may not be deliberate;  the first, very robust chorus hints at the anvil chorus from Il Trovatore, and at other  times one hears echoes of Strauss’s Elektra.  There is certainly nothing you would come out humming, although maybe greater familiarity would rectify that.
    The opera is a co-production between Dallas Opera, State Opera of South Australia, San Diego Opera, San Francisco Opera and Calgary Opera, appearing first in Dallas and now in Adelaide.  The fine cast is international with an emphasis on Australian singers, but it must be said that the real star of the production is the production.  This is modern technology used very intelligently, always to service the story.  The opening scene is a scrim behind which points of light gradually appear and dart about, perhaps representing stars as they wheel and swell; lines of light begin to connect the points, and finally this resolves into the structure of a sailing ship (to applause from the audience) which solidifies into a solid setting of mast and riggings.  Meanwhile light ethereal music sympathetically swells into a solid brass-led sound.  Queequeg is discovered sitting at the front of the stage;  the dark scrim rises, and white scrims descend and become the bottoms of the sails, and other sailors populate the ship’s deck.

    The opera is structured in two Acts and an Epilogue.  Act One, before an interval, comprises Day One (Scenes 1-4) and Day Two (Scenes 5-7) specified as taking place three months later.  Act Two, after the interval, consists of Day Three (Scenes 1-3), one year later, and Day Four (Scenes 4-8) the next morning, after which comes the Epilogue, many days later.
    http://img508.imageshack.us/img508/5348/samobydick.jpg

    The scenes at sea are quite brilliant.  A very steeply raked stage provides perches for the men in the whale boats, which are projected around them in bright blue light over a turbulent darker blue sea effect.  When they fall from the boats, they literally fall down the stage, into what appears to be foaming waves.  After the successful chase, the processing of the whale takes place on a platform projected out from half way up this stage, behind which an opening frames a glowing red scene of a tripod with a chunk of flensed whale hanging behind it.  On the platform the men are seen to deposit portions of whale blubber into the trypot.  Another great vignette sees the sailors dancing to a version of the traditional sea shanty “Spanish Ladies”, their boisterous jollity degenerating into a fight.

    The stunning effects are attributable to Projection Designer Elaine McCarthy originally, overseen in Adelaide by Shawn Boyle.   The overall director is Leonard Foglia, with Robert Brill (Set Designer), Jane Greenwood (Costume Designer) and Donald Holder (Lighting Designer – Gavan Swift in Adelaide) contributing.

    The soloists provided great singing and dramatic performances;  as ever, SOSA has an excellent ear for casting.  Ahab was sung with great ringing tone and suitable ferocity by American Heldentenor Jay Hunter Morris, his entrance heralded by the thud of his wooden leg.  Adelaide-born Grant Doyle as Starbuck has a finely controlled baritone, used here to great effect as the rational but devout mate.  His soliloquy was touchingly sung but perhaps a shade too long.  His duet with Ahab on the other hand provides a lovely lyrical interlude on Day Four, as he almost persuades the demented captain to see the error of his ways.  The role of Greenhorn/Ishmael is necessarily limited without his narrative function, but was well sung by young tenor James Egglestone.  How fortunate to have available a Polynesian singer to portray Queequeg!  Bass-baritone Jonathan Lemalu is of Samoan descent and well-known on the international stage;  here he is almost unrecognizable, covered in tattoos, and anchoring the role firmly with his resonant voice.  The sole female voice in the work is the young cabin boy, Pip, sung by Lorina Gore (last seen in very different persona in Bliss), providing a strong, clear and accurate soprano.  A pity her tambourine was not in better visual sync with the one actually rattled in the pit.  The rest of the cast provided strong support, as did the State Opera Gentlemen’s Chorus.  Both chorus and the Adelaide Symphony Orchestra were well-directed by Timothy Sexton, who is also Artistic Director of the State Opera of South Australia.  All power to him for such a successful, electrifying and gratifying night at the opera.
    4-half_stars
    Sandra Bowdler
    Opera Britannia

    Link to original review here

    Monday 29 August 2011

    MOBY DICK - State Opera SA, Adelaide Festival Theatre



    Review by Tony Busch

    Drop everything and book a ticket to this amazing production before its short season is over this week.

    “Moby Dick” is a triumph. This epic American novel has been skilfully compacted to a perfect balance of dramatic action and human frailty, and then beautifully scored to produce a mesmerising evening of musical theatre. Forget any preconceptions you might have about opera being a dated or irrelevant art form or any fear that modern opera isn’t easy to listen to.

    The production values are awesome. Director Leonard Foglia, set designer Robert Brill, projection designer Elaine McCarthy and costume designer Jane Greenwood have created a thoroughly involving and credible environment that brings the whaler Pequod alive and delivers the scale and epic dimension needed to make the drama work. Scene transitions are seamless. The two whaling sequences are superb as is the hot, harsh setting of rendering the whale blubber, which provides the background to the confrontation between Captain Ahab and First Mate Starbuck.

    Jake Heggie’s music is lyrical and captivating and his orchestrations sublime, ranging from the translucent delicacy of plankton to leviathan climaxes. Gene Scheer’s libretto delivers not just a cohesive story but ample character development too.

    The cast is uniformly brilliant.

    Jay Hunter Morris is a driven Captain Ahab, a charismatic leader of men whose obsession with the white whale who took his leg brings disaster. It is a commanding performance.

    He is perfectly matched by Grant Doyle as Starbuck, the lone voice of reason. His is a superb portrayal of a man caught in the cross-hairs of someone else’s fate and his Act 2 duet with Ahab is a highlight.


    James Egglestone sings Greenhorn with warmth and sincerity and a beautiful legato line. Jonathan Lemalu is a mighty Queequeg. Byron Watson as Stubbs, Adam Goodburn as Flask and Douglas McNicol as Captain Gardiner all contribute wonderful performances. Lorina Gore makes a winning Cabin Boy, Pip, and her scene lost at sea is chilling.

    The Chorus exceeds its usual impeccable standards with a particularly rich and lustrous sound. Indeed, the choruses are some of the highlights of the piece.

    Conductor and Chorus Master Timothy Sexton is in total control of the brilliant Adelaide Symphony and extracts every nuance of musical colour from the score.

    Bravo to all who had a hand in co-commissioning this work with the Dallas, San Diego, San Francisco and Calgary operas. It’s a production that all South Australian’s should be immensely proud of and one that no musical theatre lover should miss. So book a ticket now.

    Link to original review here

    OPERA: Moby Dick

    OPERA: Moby Dick

    State Opera of SA

    by GREG ELLIOTT

    MOBY Dick is a triumph!  Timothy Sexton, CEO of the State Opera of South Australia and conductor of Moby Dick, should feel very proud of this magnificent production: it is Jake Heggie’s latest opera and has been keenly anticipated since the outstanding success of Dead Man Walking.

    From the soft, opening notes, the audience is drawn into Elaine McCarthy’s spectacular projections of the mysterious world of the sea. As the music and story grow in power and intensity, so do the visuals continue to engage and absorb us in this tale of Captain Ahab’s obsession with revenge on the enormous white whale that claimed his leg and destroyed his balance.

    Composer Jake Heggie and lyricist Gene Scheer worked with director Leonard Foglia early in the creation of Moby Dick, and their successful collaboration has created a total and memorable experience. Robert Brill’s set is most impressive; it invites the audience to be on deck with the crew and allows the male chorus to do more than stand and deliver as they reach new heights when they exploit the many levels and positions on board.

    The combination of set, adorned by the cast in tasteful mariner tableaux, with awe-inspiring projections creates breathtaking scenes.

    Jonathan Lemalu, as Queequeg, sets the tone for the opera in his opening chanting and ritual; his deep, resonant singing fills the auditorium and we understand immediately there is more than one man’s journey that we will be experiencing in this performance.

    Moby Dick is more than a whale hunt: it is a meeting of cultures, an exploration of character, and it plumbs the inner depths of the male psyche. This opera explores what motivates men, how they deal with trauma and dilemmas, and the very nature of revenge.

    The cast is a tremendous blend of international and local talent: Jay Hunter Morris is an impressive presence as Captain Ahab, not only as the driven man who will not listen to his peers, but also as the reflective man who wonders what he has been and what he should be. There is interesting speculation about the place of God in this adventure and a comparison of a Christian with a pagan view of the world.

    The various relationships between the crew are a fascination, and James Egglestone, as Greenhorn, captures the innocence and development of a raw sailor who experiences the best and worst of man’s nature. Grant Doyle, as Starbuck and second-in-command, stands strong against Ahab and their duets are powerful, spell-binding conflicts. Each of the supporting cast and chorus and the Adelaide Symphony Orchestra make the most of every musical and theatrical moment of Jake Heggie’s superb score.

    What an exciting city and time we live in that gives rise to an international collaboration that produces a modern masterpiece such as Moby Dick.

    State Opera’s production of Moby Dick is as close as one could come to actually being on the Pequod and out on the open sea. It is a must for opera lovers and it is a brilliant initiation into the possibilities of modern opera for those unfamiliar with the genre.

    Link to original review here

    Moby Dick is at the Festival Theatre until September 3.

    Classic adventure hits all operatic high notes


    by Ewart Shaw

    THE lights go down. Stars appear, and there is the Pequod, out of Nantucket, ahuntin' the whale.

    It is the mesmerising beginning to an astounding journey. The Great American Novel has become a grand new opera. Leviathan has been drawn out.

    Grant Doyle as Starbuck with Jay Hunter Morris as Ahab.

    Leonard Foglia has recreated his original Dallas Opera production with a first-rate crew and a superb orchestra for a thrilling and unforgettable theatrical experience.

    The story unfolds with cinematic flair. Jake Heggie and his librettist, Gene Scheer, have distilled down the Melville tale, carefully balancing high drama with lighter relief, from the banter of the crew to the apocalyptic visions of judgment and revenge that drive Captain Ahab.

    Heggie's music is melodious and sentimental; his writing for voices adept and gratifying, delivered by the cast with a care that renders the surtitles irrelevant.

    Timothy Sexton draws out the lustrous colours of the score from the Adelaide Symphony Orchestra, and the nearly 40-strong chorus is magnificent.

    The first whale hunt is a tour de force with cabin boy Pip, Lorina Gore, singing suspended high above the stage. Starbuck's confrontation with Ahab is set against the butchering and boiling down of a whale carcass.
    Jay Hunter Morris gives a fully rounded portrayal of Ahab, articulate and driven, but lacking a touch of madness the character requires.

    Around him are some of the finest actor-singers you'll see in years. Grant Doyle as first mate Starbuck, in every moment, every gesture, communicates the depths of longing that fuel his spirit.
    James Egglestone as Greenhorn is one of the finest young tenors around. His scenes with Queequeg, the imposing Jonathan Lemalu, are subtle and heartfelt.

    Byron Watson as Stubb, Adam Goodburn as Flask, and the other crew are totally committed to this incredible adventure. Douglas McNicol, singing off-stage as the captain of another questing vessel brings real pathos to his brief lines.

    It is a historic moment in the fortunes of State Opera, no longer just a point on the map of the opera world but a significant destination.

    Link to original review here.

    Saturday 27 August 2011

    Moby Dick - State Opera of South Australia

    by Barry Lenny

    Composer, Jake Heggie's, Dead Man Walking was a big hit with Adelaide audiences a few years ago and, judging by the response to the opening night performance, his latest opera is set to be an even bigger hit. Gene Scheer's libretto draws dialogue directly from Hermann Melville's 1851 novel. The opera was premièred by the Dallas Opera on 30th April 2010 and, after this season, will then go to San Francisco Opera, San Diego Opera and Calgary Opera. It was jointly commissioned by these opera companies in conjunction with State Opera of SA.

    The opera takes place aboard the three masted whaler, the Pequod, where Captain Ahab seeks the white whale, Moby Dick, that took his leg in a previous encounter. His obsession gives rise to conflicts with his crew and it is the interpersonal relationships between crew members that is what makes both the novel, and the opera, a classic.

    As the overture begins a dot of light appears, then a few more, then more again until we we see a star-filled night sky. Lines appear, joining the dots into constellations and, as we recall the times when seamen used to stars to navigate by, the lines suddenly join together to form a whaler coming straight towards us over the waves, turning as it passes across our bows then, as the scrim curtain rises, the ship is recreated in the set behind it as we find ourselves on the deck of the Pequod. There could hardly be a more exciting and captivating start to an opera than this, and my description captures very little of the experience of actually seeing it happen. All this, and we are only a few minutes into the opera, with so much more to come.
    The staging of this opera is remarkable with a set that finds people up to ten metres above the stage on an almost vertical wall, leaping off of their perches and sliding down to the ground when their boat capsizes, people climbing high above the stage into the rigging, the young cabin boy, Pip, having been thrown into the sea, swimming for his life in raging seas, whalers melting blubber in a cauldron to get oil, the fire so hot that it looks like a room in Hades, handfuls of men in small sea-boats harpooning whales, and so much more.
    The seamless combination of projections, the physical set and live action is astounding, seeming to blend opera with theatre, circus, cinema and visual art into a multimedia extravaganza. It has to be seen to believed. If it were not for the power of the music and the superb performances it might have overwhelmed the production, but that did not happen, instead it became an equal part of a greater whole.

    Set designer, Robert Brill, costume designer, Jane Greenwood, projection designer, Elaine McCarthy, lighting designer, Donald Holder, revival projection designer, Shawn Boyle and revival lighting designer, Gavan Swift make up the team responsible for the amazing visual side of this production. The visual side is not confined just to the physical set, but includes people, with choreographer, Keturah Stickann, and fight and action choreographer, Nino Pilla, adding more movement energy. They keep the cast and, especially, the fifteen supernumeraries very busy from start to finish, climbing all over the ropes and masts and sliding down the decks of the Pequod.

    Right from the start, the darkly magnificent music, played by the Adelaide Symphony Orchestra at their very best, conjured up images of people, places and events in Melville's powerful tale, working hand in glove with what we see and hear on stage. We first see Queequeg, the heavily tattooed cannibal from the South Seas island of Kokovoko, sitting and praying in his own language. Bass, Jonathon Lemalu, is everything you would want in the character of Queequeg, strong, quietly commanding, his superb voice echoing in very corner of the theatre.

    His chant awakens Greenhorn (Ishmael), a role in which tenor, James Egglestone shines, bringing a complex and sympathetic portrayal of the first time whaler to the role. These two develop a deep friendship as Greenhorn questions his religion and finds a greater spirituality in the heathen religion of Queequeg. There are some wonderfully warm moments between these two. The first line of the novel “Call me Ishmael”; is the final line of the opera, sung with a great poignancy as Greenhorn clings to the floating coffin, prepared for Queequeg when it was thought that he was going to die.

    Another pairing, with a far from warm relationship, is that between Captain Ahab and the first mate, Starbuck. Jay Hunter Morris stomps around on his peg-leg giving us a cold and calculating man whose single minded obsession is frighteningly displayed in his performance. He barely hides his insanity at the start, but it slowly reveals itself more and more as he gets closer to his quarry.

    Grant Doyle shows us all of the pain and frustration that Starbuck feels as he tries to fight the Captain's insane chase, at the exclusion of all else, even attempting to ignore other pods of whales in his haste, giving in after three months and allowing the men to hunt when there is a scent of mutiny in the air, because the men are only paid on a share of the catch.

    Flask's boat is wrecked as they hunt, and the cabin boy Pip is lost. Ahab orders them to set sail but Starbuck refuses. Starbuck stands up to him, resulting in the Captain threatening to kill him. Ahab, backs down when word goes around that Pip has been seen and is rescued. Later, he comes close to killing Ahab as he sleeps, but refrains.

    Byron Watson, as Stubb, and Adam Goodburn, as Flask give some fine supporting performances and soprano, Lorena Gore, as the cabin boy, Pip, is lively and manages to sing beautifully even when suspended on a cable when fighting the waves having been swept overboard.
    Leonard Foglia's direction keenly finds all of the issues that arise when a large and disparate group of men are confined together for an extended period of time and shows them with a great understanding of humanity. There are issued of sexuality and religion in Melville's writing that are handled well by Foglia who approaches them with a light but fearless touch.

    All of the smaller roles have been well cast, with more great work from Andrew Turner, as Daggoo, Douglas McRae, as Tashtego, Gerard Schneider, as a Nantucket Sailor , James Scott, as a Spanish Sailor and a wonderfully concerned father in search of his son is presented by Douglas McNicol, as Captain Gardiner.
    Conductor and chorus master, Timothy Sexton, now also the Artistic Director and CEO of State Opera, is in full control of the entire musical side of the production and draws out all of nuances in the rich orchestration, and establishes the marvellous male voice choir work of the State Opera Gentlemen's Chorus. His contribution cannot be underestimated in such a massive undertaking and, if this is a sign of things to come, the company and the future of opera in Adelaide is in very capable hands. Musically, this production has everything from dramatic highlights, to gently lyrical passages and lighter, humorous moments, such as when the men dance together. Sexton discovers the importance all of these moments and the orchestra, the soloists and the chorus are all clearly giving their best under his unerring guidance.

    If you have never seen an opera before, because you have incorrectly assumed that they are dull, highbrow, boring and impossible to understand, then go to see this one and discover just how wrong you are. This modern masterpiece is a sensational event from every viewpoint and will appeal to both newcomers and long term lovers of opera. Whatever you do, do not miss this thoroughly rewarding production.

    Reviewed by Barry Lenny, Arts Editor, Glam Adelaide.

    Link to original review here.

    Sunday 15 May 2011

    Clemency - Independent on Sunday Review

    James MacMillan's opera weaves the longing for a child with the skewed vision of fundamentalism

    Reviewed by Anna Picard


    Has James MacMillan mellowed? Clemency, his latest opera, introduces the most complex of subjects in the most direct musical language.

    The forces are modest (five singers and 24 strings), the score concise, only 45 minutes long. The hectoring ululations of his St John Passion have softened into an unaccompanied melismatic prayer, prelude to a simple meal. There are allusions to Tippett, Britten, even Palestrina, fluency and brightness in the sunburst arpeggios and golden halos of the orchestration. Most surprisingly, there is a hint of revulsion at the strident certainty of the three Angels who visit Abraham and Sarah on their way to raze Sodom and Gomorrah. 

    Designed by Alex Eales, with a set in the form of a Flemish altarpiece, Katie Mitchell's Royal Opera House/ Scottish Opera co-production has simplicity and gravity. Having collaborated with MacMillan and his librettist, Michael Symons Roberts, on Parthenogenesis and The Sacrifice, she is attuned to their rhythms. The opera opens to ambient sounds – birdsong and aircraft. In one panel of the triptych, Sarah (Janis Kelly) kneads bread. In the second, Abraham (Grant Doyle) counts his earnings. The third is a mirror image of the second, allowing us to witness the dialogue from both sides.
    The branches of an oak tree reach through a broken window into the room where Abraham offers food and shelter to three travellers (Andrew Tortise, Eamonn Mulhall and Adam Green). They enter as workmen and leave as assassins, an otherworldly dazzle of righteous triads in rhythmic unison. For certainty, read fundamentalism. The aircraft noise is the first of several references to 9/11. Having repaid Abraham's mitzvah with the miraculous news of Sarah's pregnancy, the triplets fulminate against the sins of the "twin towns". Abraham's pleas for mercy are ignored, leaving Sarah to contemplate motherhood with "gratitude and terror", as well she might, given this baby's future role as putative sacrifice. One life is given, thousands taken. Is this justice? 

    Under Clark Rundell's calm, clear beat, the Britten Sinfonia realise MacMillan's score with bite, beauty and vigour. Nothing is lost by the lack of percussion, brass and woodwind. In the dry acoustic of the Linbury Studio, the divisi strings had an astonishing gleam, as did the trio of Old Testament hitmen. How much of Sarah's history with Hagar was in Kelly's characterisation? Was that guilt in her face? Jealousy? Mouth twisted into mirthless laughter or wild nausea, she is riveting, despite a challenging tesseratura and lyrics that ape the King James Bible, without matching its poetry. Doyle's Abraham is sympathetic and eloquent from his opening prayer to his futile imprecations. Best ignore the backstory and what later passes between him and Isaac, miracle child. 

    Clemency - The Observer Review

    by Fiona Maddocks

    Space is too short to celebrate in full the week's other premieres, each singular in style but abundant in rewards. James MacMillan's chamber opera Clemency, played by the expert and busy Britten Sinfonia strings, conducted by Clark Rundell, was as densely coloured and detailed as the Russian Orthodox icon which in part prompted it. Its starting point is the Old Testament story of Sarah and Abraham before the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. One can imagine that MacMillan and his librettist, Michael Symmons Roberts, wrote in a white heat of intensity.

    The mood never lets up for the work's 50-minute duration. It ends too soon – scarcely a typical response to new opera. It's the best MacMillan score I have heard, full of muezzin-like chromaticism and, in the string style, a touch of Bartók, but firmly his own. Katie Mitchell's direction, Alex Eales's designs and the cast led by Janis Kelly and Grant Doyle were all excellent.

    Original review click here

    Clemency - Times Review


    Mercy mission

    James MacMillan moves with his new opera, while the Barbican celebrates Steve Reich's birthday in a packed two days

    Paul Driver


    The same weekend brought a new chamber opera at the Linbury, by the 51-year-old James MacMillan, and Reverberations, a sprawling Barbican celebration of the approaching 75th birthday of that American minimalist Steve Reich, setting him beside the many younger composers he has influenced

    MacMillan’s music, though eclectic, bears few if any traces of the Reich repetition style, but there was an overlap both of performing forces — the strings of the Britten Sinfonia under Clark Rundell providing the curiously specialised accompaniment to MacMillan’s Clemency and participating in Reich’s You Are (Variations) — and of thematic preoccupation. MacMillan’s one-acter, to a text by Michael Symmons Roberts, centres on the angelic announcement in the Book of Genesis to Abraham’s aged wife, Sarah, that she will bear a son; this comes up, too, in Reich’s video opera The Cave, extracts from which were given by the Kronos Quartet at the Barbican. The place was crammed with two days of events from 11am to 11pm, a reminder of the “total immersion weekends” the BBC Symphony Orchestra (a participant in Reverberations) used to mount here — 2005’s was devoted, indeed, to MacMillan.

    Among the significant influences on MacMillan’s music, Britten stands high, and Clemency’s economical (50-minute) treatment of a slice of scripture, its casting for just five voices, four of them male, and its quasi-ritualistic manner of proceeding — as staged by Katie Mitchell, there is a long, silent preamble — evoke the Britten of the church parables. Similarly, MacMillan’s restlessly inventive string-writing — biting, resonant, athletic, but with an expressionistic edge — sometimes brought to mind Britten’s Variations on a Theme of Frank Bridge, and certainly sounded terrific in the Linbury pit acoustic. Beyond the Brittenish tonality there is a wealth of folkish inflection to the string and vocal parts alike: the music begins with a long, cantillating solo prayer for Abraham — the baritone Grant Doyle singing with exemplary diction here, as throughout — and later the strings have an interludial monody of similar cast.

    Using strings by themselves in an opera is an original stroke — it made me feel something special was in store. Seductive, too, was the mise en scène. Inspired by Andrei Rublev’s icon of the Hospitality of Abraham, the set, by Alex Eales, is a giant altarpiece triptych, each gold frame disclosing a room in Abraham’s croft-like (though contemporary) dwelling. I’ve hardly seen the modular space of the Linbury put to such beautiful use, or fitted with what is effectively a proscenium arch; and the production (free from surtitles) is captivating purely as tableaux.

    James MacMillan's restlessly inventive string-writing certainly sounded terrific in the Linbury pit acoustic
    As drama, it is concisely achieved, but not as single-minded as a Britten parable would be. Though Clemency (commissioned by the Royal Opera, Scottish Opera, Britten Sinfonia and Boston Lyric Opera) follows MacMillan’s oratorio-like Quickening (1998) and operatic scena Parthenogenesis (2000) — both scripted by Roberts — in its concern with birth and virgin birth, it has a second, increasingly dominant focus on those angelic announcers, called “Triplets” in the libretto. Appearing first as migrant workers and receiving Abraham’s generous hospitality, they inform an incredulous Sarah of her miracle pregnancy, but then wear suits and holsters in order to address themselves to the moral corruption of the neighbouring “twin towns”, not named as Sodom and Gomorrah, slated for destruction.
    Abraham, appalled, seeks the titular clemency from them, asking if they would spare the towns should “50 acts of selflessness” be found in them, and when they say they would he tries to barter them down. He only has an ambiguous success, and the opera ends with Sarah’s second aria, foreboding where her first had been hopeful.

    The soprano Janis Kelly delivered these powerfully, and the tenors Eamonn Mulhall and Andrew Tortise with the baritone Adam Green, always singing as an entwined trio and often in an “early music” mode, were vocally intriguing. But a portentous note creeps in; the strings become all too slicingly assertive; and I felt by the end that the work is torn between being a kind of miracle play and a “relevant” political statement.

    Thursday 12 May 2011

    Clemency - Times Review by Neil Fisher

    Clemency at the Linbury Studio, ROH

    Neil Fisher

    In the strange book of Genesis, it is one of the stranger moments, particularly for its brevity. Abraham’s aged wife Sarah finds out from three messengers from God that she will miraculously bear a child. With little time to absorb this wondrous news, the angels also have something less inspiring to say: they are en route to Sodom and Gomorrah and intend to destroy both cities, sparing none of their inhabitants.

    It is fertile ground for this, James MacMillan’s third collaboration with the writer Michael Symmons Roberts and the director Katie Mitchell. It is also their second work, after the Linbury staging of Parthenogenesis in 2009, to explore biblical questions in a modern context, using the Brittenesque format of chamber opera, or even staged parable.

    Clemency certainly provides plenty of dramatic heat. “Think of us as travellers,” sing the three angels, here known as the Triplets. “But you look like murderers,” snaps back Grant Doyle’s grizzled Abraham, while Janis Kelly’s wary, weary Sarah gets a knife ready for her unknown guests — just in case — as well as a quickly tossed salad. When the three visitors reveal their murderous plans (using evidence of atrocities from their cameraphones), they don gangstersuits and snap guns out of their briefcases. Are they really divine, or just self-appointed vigilantes?

    The question is a subtle one, though MacMillan’s souped-up score and Roberts’s sometimes opaque and under-enunciated text takes it into odd territory. His current musical style, familiar to those who both loved and loathed his St John Passion, is to alternate moments of seraphic beauty — in this case the Triplets, who sing in close-harmony unison — with jagged vocal lines, sudden crunchy chords (Clemency is set for strings only, here the excellent Britten Sinfonia under Clark Rundell) and wailing melismas.

    It’s a formula that can drive Mitchell’s contemporary setting, beautifully evoked in Alex Eales’s three-panelled set, towards something more contrived. And in 50 packed minutes it feels like the balance between scene-setting and action has gone askew. But the performances are hugely committed and the show is thrillingly tight. You certainly won’t be bored.

    Wednesday 11 May 2011

    Clemency - The Stage Review

    by Edward Bhesania

    Playing out within the frames of Alex Eales’s giant hinged triptych, James MacMillan’s latest operatic collaboration with poet Michael Symmons Roberts is a contemporary retelling of the Old Testament story of the hospitality of Abraham and Sarah - a childless elderly couple who take in three angels on their way to unleashing God’s judgement upon the sinful nearby towns of Sodom and Gomorrah.

    Though operating entirely as a single entity - whether in burnished close-harmony or flourishing Renaissance-style polyphony - the present-day trio (Andrew Tortise, Eamon Mulhall and Adam Green) creates deep-rooted unease through the uncertainty of its objectives. Are these ‘Triplets’ really archangels carrying out God’s work, or fundamentalists bent on destroying their enemies? The trio’s furtive glances and their ritualistic changing from manual workers’ clothes into suits (concealing gun holsters) before leaving for their ‘mission’ suggests one thing - the atrocities they claim to want to halt in the neighbouring towns suggest another.

    The trio’s fervent, penetrating intensity is matched by the string players of the Britten Sinfonia - a highly motivated army of generals under the lucid direction of Clark Rundell.

    Amid all the searing drama it’s easy to overlook the figures of Abraham and Sarah. Director Katie Mitchell (who also worked on MacMillan’s recent The Sacrifice for Welsh National Opera) succeeds in beautifully and delicately conveying their mutual respect, while Grant Doyle sings Abraham with a pure, uncomplicated richness one could happily listen to all night and Janis Kelly perceptively reflects the burden of Sarah’s longstanding sterility seemingly as much by what is thought as what is sung. Equally powerful in narrative and in musical terms, this work seems to have hit the ground running.

    Clemency - Independent Review


    Clemency, Royal Opera House, London 
    (Rated 5/ 5 )
    Reviewed by Jessica Duchen

    Less is more: in James MacMillan's music, every note counts. And never more so than in Clemency, the Scottish composer's brand-new chamber opera, which packs questions powerful, emotional, philosophical and religious into just 45 minutes. With his regular librettist Michael Symmons Roberts and the director Katie Mitchell, MacMillan has created a terrifically intense, focused and inspired musical work on a thought-provoking parable, updated to the present day.

    Sarah and Abraham, a dowdy middle-aged couple in a run-down apartment, offer hospitality to three men apparently in need of shelter. But the strangers are angels: they bring a divine message that Sarah, despite her age, will soon bear a son. Then, though, they change into suits, concealing guns. Their mission is to take revenge on two towns that have treated outsiders with cruelty. Abraham argues for clemency. The ethics of "collective punishment" are never far away.

    Mitchell's staging and the excellent designs by Alex Eales present this fable in a tripartite frame that suggests an altarpiece, while remaining naturalistic behind it. First, for several music-less minutes, Sarah cooks, birds sing, planes pass overhead. Abraham, alone at prayer, sings long phrases with quasi-Middle Eastern ornamentation. But the characterisation is unfailing: Sarah, sung by the marvellous Janis Kelly, has soaring, palpitating and plunging lines as her emotions are buffeted by fear and elation. Abraham, the full-toned Grant Doyle, is straightforward, humble but tenacious. The "triplets" are heard first in close harmony, almost as if with one voice at three pitches: an otherworldly sound, performed with frightening power by Adam Green, Eamonn Mulhall and Andrew Tortise.

    But there's another character: the orchestra – the strings of the Britten Sinfonia, conducted by Clark Rundell. They play as if possessed in instrumental episodes that seem to argue the points, amplify the emotions and ratchet up the tension. These passages structure the score just as the three-part picture-frame structures the staging.

    The end, though, seemed rather abrupt. In the ensuing long silence, we waited and hoped for a few extra concluding minutes.

    Original review link here

    Tuesday 10 May 2011

    Clemency - Telegraph Review

    James MacMillan's new one-act libretto is subtly haunting and quietly powerful
    Rating: * * * *

    Drawn loosely from a story in Genesis and perhaps also inspired by Britten’s church parables, Clemency is a new one-act opera by the Catholic composer James MacMillan, working for the third time with the librettist Michael Symmons Roberts and director Katie Mitchell. Subtly haunting and quietly powerful, it is a parable of God’s will in the world, its precise significance left opaque.

    Abraham and Sarah are presented as a middle-aged childless couple living in honest poverty – as so often in Mitchell’s work, the resonance suggest the Balkans during the wars of the 1990s. Three unknown young men, dressed in military fatigues, appear at their door. Abraham and Sarah show them hospitality, for which they are grateful.

    They tell Sarah that, although she is past the age of child-bearing, she will bear a son. Abraham and Sarah are sceptical of the men’s right to speak for God, but the men explain that they have come to wreak divine vengeance on the “twin towns” nearby. Angels or terrorists (or both), they change into dark suits, produce weaponry and prepare to fulfil their mission.

    Abraham cannot believe the stories they tell of the wickedness which pervades the towns. He begs for clemency. Find “50 acts of selflessness” among the inhabitants, he says, and relent. The men agree, and Abraham continues to bargain – find 40, 30, 10 and spare them, he implores.

    But they will not meet Abraham’s final plea that one good deed will bring salvation. Sarah is left contemplating the birth of a longed-for son, but wonders what sort of world he will inherit. The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away; blessed be the name of the Lord. The pace is slow but sure, the idiom harmonically intense, the mood bleak, solemn and impassioned, often evoking threnodic Orthodox chant.

    Otherwise, there are no fancy effects or percussive extravagances, the sense of spiritual austerity being underpinned by an orchestra of strings alone. The Britten Sinfonia plays with total assurance under Clark Rundell. Mitchell and her designer Alex Eales set the drama on a stage divided into a gold-framed triptych of three rooms.

    Grant Doyle and Janis Kelly as Abraham and Sarah and Eamonn Mulhall, Andrew Tortise and baritone Adam Green as the mysterious visitors make up an ideal cast.

    This is an opera which leaves a lasting effect, and I want to hear it again soon.

    Original review link here

    Clemency - New Statesman Review

    Fleeting visions

    James MacMillan's latest chamber opera is difficult to pin down.
    Our English word "guest" derives from the Greek "xenos". It's a word whose historical and etymological tensions are hidden in its interchangeable meanings of guest, host and stranger. It is the friction inherent to this idea of hospitality, of the unstable relationship of power, otherness and duty between host and guest, that animates James MacMillan's latest chamber opera Clemency.

    Following where 2000's Parthenogenesis led, Clemency is strongly informed by the composer's Roman Catholic faith, an affiliation shared with Michael Symmons Roberts, librettist for both works. Taking that most inscrutable of Genesis stories, The Hospitality of Abraham (most familiar from Andrei Rublev's fifteenth-century icon of the same name), as its root, MacMillan cultivates the tale into a contemporary social fable. Complicating the sins of Sodom and Gomorrah through their pointed rechristening as the "twin towns", Macmillan's oblique parable stretches beyond morality into the realm of contemporary politics.

    Scored for five singers and string orchestra, Clemency's brisk 50 minutes chart the intrusion of three strangers into the quiet domesticity of the aged Abraham and Sarah. Welcomed and fed, the strangers foretell that when they return in a year Sarah will have had a son, and the couple recognise them as angels. Learning of their plans to destroy neighbouring towns, Abraham pleads with them for mercy, eventually extracting a promise that if just five good men are found the towns will be spared.

    Framing the action within a gilt-edged triptych, Alex Eales' set anchors the opera in the symbolic, two-dimensional world of religious iconography. This flattened perspective (mirrored physically in some clever spatial use of the three panelled stage sections) chafes fruitfully against the detailed naturalism of the sets and Katie Mitchell's direction, giving weight to their grubby contemporary banality.

    While MacMillan is perhaps best-known for his Celtic-inflected choral works, his operatic writing has proved itself altogether tougher and more flexible. After the lyric abrasions of Parthenogenesis it was hard to be satisfied with Clemency's uneasy mix of pastiche Eastern Orthodoxy (with MacMillan's signature Lombardic ornaments reinvented as Klezmer-style embellishments) and sub-Vaughan Williams string effects.

    The same mewling violin cries that pleaded so eloquently in the opening of The Confession of Isobel Gowdie here lost any emotional referent, and while much of the string writing had a muscular brilliance about it, its coherence was lost in the Babel of harmonic languages. Quite literally out of tune with their earthly surroundings, the music of the Triplets (strongly sung by Adam Green, Eamonn Mulhall, Andrew Tortise) established its own modal sound-world, the three-voices-in-one presenting a striking musical Trinity. Only the occasional unisons were marred by the challenge of blending three such different vocal tones.

    Grant Doyle led the cast as Abraham in a beautifully-judged piece of singing that brought authority without bombast to some of MacMillan's loveliest writing. The delicacy of his performance was matched by Janis Kelly's life-worn Sarah, whose quiet presence only fully surrendered to song in the rather ambiguous ending.
    Having the strings of the Britten Sinfonia (efficiently conducted by Clark Rundell) as orchestra was a piece of luxury casting by no means fully exploited by the deeply sunken pit. Given the Linbury's almost endlessly flexible setup, perhaps a more prominent position could usefully have been found for them, mirroring the instrumental prominence MacMillan's music demands and achieving more direct interplay with the singers.
    While MacMillan's orchestral and choral works establish a sound-world on their own terms, giving the composer one of the most recognisable voices of contemporary British music, this has not always been true of his operas. Caught up in the moment-to-moment reflection of the libretto's images, he can forget to ground the music in a self-sufficient framework or language, leaving it curiously vulnerable and elusive. With Symmons Roberts' inscrutable text our sole concordance here, MacMillan's biblical vision failed to make itself understood, barring us from interpretation even as the spread wings of the triptych invited us in.

    Original review link here

    Monday 9 May 2011

    Clemency - FT Review

    Clemency, Linbury Studio Theatre, London

    By Andrew Clark

    Grant Doyle as Abraham
    James MacMillan completed his new chamber opera long before the US sent a group of commandos to neutralise Osama bin Laden – and yet his adaptation of an Old Testament tale could hardly have been better calculated to raise questions about the raid’s moral validity.
    Three mysterious men arrive at the home of Abraham and Sarah, who offer them hospitality. The men are either angels on a mission to administer God’s justice to a nearby community or terrorists bent on violence. Abraham asks them to show clemency towards the “good”.
    The piece is loaded with all sorts of knotty questions. Who is good and who is bad, and who are we to judge? Is revenge sufficient reason for summary justice? Can violence ever be justified, even when ordered by an Old Testament God?

    Clemency was premiered by ROH2, the Royal Opera House’s fig leaf for small-scale creativity. The piece really belongs in church, for Michael Symmons Roberts’ libretto is too bluntly moralistic to be taken seriously in an opera house. MacMillan’s score, ranging across quasi-Orthodox chant, lyrical reflection and passages of extreme tension, never lets us see Abraham and Sarah as anything other than symbols.

    But at 50 minutes Clemency does not overstay its welcome. The instrumental accompaniment could best be described as a concerto for string orchestra, with techniques lifted from Vaughan Williams and Tippett. It is equally indebted to Hungarian folk music. All this enhances MacMillan’s reputation as a skilled musical magpie.

    Katie Mitchell’s staging, conducted by Clark Rundell, is sensitive to the work’s ambiguities. Its biggest asset is Alex Eales’s three-room set, built like a gilt-framed altar. Janis Kelly and Grant Doyle give meaning to their every movement, while the so-called “Triplets” – Adam Green, Eamonn Mulhall and Andrew Tortise – blend together well.

     

    Original Review link here.

    Sunday 8 May 2011

    Clemency – Guardian Review

    by Tim Ashley
    Sunday 8 May 2011 18.00 BST

    Adam Green, Eamonn Mulhall and Andrew Tortise
    Photograph: Tristram Kenton
    Clemency, James MacMillan's new opera for five singers and string orchestra, is about "vengeance and mercy", according to its librettist, Michael Symmons Roberts. A co-production between ROH2 and Scottish Opera, it's a religious work that examines the inscrutable nature of divine justice by recasting part of the book of Genesis in contemporary terms.
    Abraham offers hospitality to three mysterious, angelic Triplets, who prophesy that his wife Sarah, who is ageing and childless, will have a son within a year. The Triplets are also bent, however, on the vengeful destruction of the "twin towns" that stand nearby. Abraham is soon pleading with them, in vain, to spare the towns if they can be found to contain five people who are "good in heart and mind".

    There are problems with some of this. The words "twin towns", with their overtones of twin towers, raise provocative implications of terrorism, though the programme notes tell us that some sort of vigilante action is what is intended. The towns, meanwhile, are a latter-day Sodom and Gomorrah: distancing themselves from a narrative responsible for centuries of homophobia, MacMillan and Symmons Roberts reimagine them as the centre of a dictatorship predicated on torture and injustice.

    The text is opaque, at times esoteric. Symmons Roberts indulges in overload: "My destiny is played out on its wall of pearl" is a typical line. Parts of it are in what I took to be Hebrew and/or Aramaic, but we're offered no guidance as to their meaning. The score, however, has some attractive moments, though there's a bit too much consciously ecstatic string writing in the tradition of Tippett's Fantasia Concertante on a Theme of Corelli. Sarah has a striking central aria. The Triplets sing in close harmony that broadens into suave polyphony with overtones of Palestrina.

    It's well done. There's shapely playing from the Britten Sinfonia under Clark Rundell. Janis Kelly registers Sarah's "gratitude and terror" towards God in a performance of considerable power. Grant Doyle is her bewildered, angry Abraham, while Adam Green, Eamonn Mulhall and Andrew Tortise are curiously seductive as the Triplets.

    Katie Mitchell's modern-dress production contains the action in a framed three-part set that resembles a triptych, and ingeniously offers multiple perspectives on the same series of rooms. There are some clever touches, with the Triplets arriving dressed as workmen, but departing for Sodom in suits, Reservoir Dogs-style. Mitchell wisely plays most of it straight, though: some of it is simply too dense to warrant interpretative interference.

    Original review link here.

    Clemency - What's On Stage Review

    by Mark Valencia

    The gates of a great triptych stand open, but no painted icons lie within. Instead, each panel contains a fragment of a house: one shows part of a kitchen, the others a bare living room seen from two different perspectives. It is modern but dilapidated. The branch of a tree has shattered the window and grown indoors, a reminder of the permanence of nature in a transient human world. For James McMillan’s new operatic treatment of an Old Testament tale, these designs by Alex Eales provide a striking collision of ancient and modern - an early promise that is not fulfilled by the opera itself despite the presence of five excellent soloists and the commanding advocacy of Clark Rundell and the Britten Sinfonia strings.

    Chapter 18 of the Book of Genesis relates a slender fable in which Abraham and his wife, Sarah, are visted by three angels to whom they offer hospitality, and who in turn foretell that within a year Sarah will have a child. The angels prepare to leave, letting slip that they are on their way to trash the nearby towns of Sodom and Gomorrah. Abraham persuades the celestial trio to spare them if they can find ten good people living there.

    I do hope it’s by accident, not design, that the libretto by Michael Symmons Roberts refers to Sodom and Gomorrah not by name but as ‘the twin towns’, and that careless diction alone causes the word ‘towns’ to sound so much like ‘towers’; but since the opera recasts the story in an amorphous modern setting (we could be anywhere from Latvia to Libya) I fear the glib worst. If Clemency has a moral message it is a confusing one: the three angels are depicted as migrant black-economy workers who morph into gun-hungry gangsters out for mayhem, yet good old Abraham softens their hearts with the most childlike of reasoning.

    McMillan has scored his opera for strings alone, and it is a disappointment. One does not anticipate pastiche from a composer who, twenty years ago, showed such originality in works like The Confession of Isobel Gowdie and the stunning Seven Last Words from the Cross, yet for stretches here the string writing is an uneasy mishmash of Klezmer, Vaughan Williams and rehashed McMillan. True, some of the innovative string effects are ear-popping, as is often the way with this technically prodigious composer, but on first hearing at least the musical value of Clemency appears uncharacteristically slight.

    Grant Doyle’s Abraham has vocal clarity and physical composure, and Janis Kelly brings a careworn dignity to the under-written role of his wife, Sarah. The three angels (‘Triplets’) are very well played by Adam Green, Eamonn Mulhall and Andrew Tortise as a closely harmonised trio whose music recalls Britten’s Canticle IV, The Journey of the Magi.

    As a theatre director, Katie Mitchell is unsurpassed in the psychological acuity of her characterisation; but although she brings her customary skill to staging this 45-minute piece, she never quite probes to its heart. Perhaps it doesn’t have one.

    Original review link here.

    Saturday 7 May 2011

    Clemency - Classical Source Review

    ROH2 – Clemency
    Peter Reed | Saturday, May 07, 2011

    With the same sort of Christian provenance that generated “Parthenogenesis” (centred round an unnatural/miraculous birth), James MacMillan and his librettist Michael Symmons Roberts have turned to another miraculous delivery in their chamber opera “Clemency”. The story comes from the book of Genesis (chapter 18) in which three angels (referred to as Triplets in the cast list) tell the elderly (post-menopausal) Sarah, wife of the patriarch Abraham, that she will give birth to a son (Isaac) – the key event in the establishment of the tribes of Israel. It’s a long-distance Annunciation, which can be interpreted as an anticipation of the birth of Christ. The legend – a remarkable piece of writing – doesn’t stop there, though.

    The three angels have also been sent to sort out the “twin towns” of sin, Sodom and Gomorrah, and there is a strange, shaggy-dog-style passage in which Abraham tries to strike a bargain to spare those good, blameless townsfolk, however few of them there are – an early precedent of human intercession with a vengeful Almighty. In a contemporary twist, the three angels are messengers of retribution who refer to the “twin towns” of depravation in a similar way as terrorists referred to the “twin towers” of a corrupt city, to be punished with annihilation. Miraculous birth, pleas for mercy and terrorist angels hell-bent on jihad – a tall order for an opera that lasts about 50 minutes, the first five of which were played in total silence, supposedly establishing the quiet ease of Abraham and Sarah’s marriage but rather raising anxieties about a possible technical fault.

    Katie Mitchell’s production is contemporary miserabilist – gritty, you might call it; Alex Eales’s set was like a hinged altar triptych, so that whatever was going on in each frame was presented as a picture, and dignified with a timeless quality. On the evidence of “Parthenogenesis”, MacMillan and Roberts are very good at folding in any numbers of layers into their work and letting them find their own resonance. In “Clemency”, though, much of the libretto was lost in the singing – Abraham had a long opening solo, supposedly in made-up Aramaic, and apparently there were other passages in cod-Latin , but much of it could have been in double-Dutch for all you could make out the words. MacMillan has scored it for string orchestra, and that sound comes packed with particularly English, pastoral associations. Apart from some obviously Arabian Nights-style emblematic inflections, the music had the powerful flavour of Vaughan Williams or Tippett in assertively mystic/ecstatic mode. MacMillan is a fine writer for voices and a vivid reactor to words and images, but I have still to discern an unmistakable style.

    Grant Doyle was a powerful vocal and stage presence, and breezed through the demands the music made of him. Janis Kelly was a formidable Sarah (as indeed Sarah is in the Bible - she was quite a matriarchal handful) and delivered a sympathetic and dramatic performance. The two-tenors, one-baritone trio of angels were vividly realised and chillingly evoked the power of blind faith. Clark Rundell conducted with a feel for the score’s immediacy, and there are some fine players in the Britten Sinfonia.

    Original review link here