Directed by
Calixto Bieito
Conducted by
Andrew Litton
(Alex Ingram
from April 4)
Set Designer
Alfons Flores
Gustavus III
John Daszak
Anckarstroem
David Kempster
Amelia
Claire Rutter
Madame
Arvidson
Rebecca
de Pont Davies
Oscar
Mary Plazas
Christian
Toby
Stafford-Allen
Count Ribbing
Graeme Danby
Count Horn
Panajotis
Iconomou
Lord Chief
Justice
Peter Kerr
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A Masked Ball
by Giuseppe Verdi
An English National Opera co-production with the Gran Teatre del Liceu, Barcelona and the Royal Danish Opera, Copenhagen
London Coliseum
21 February - 16 April 2002
The controversy – frenzy, even – over this new production of "A Masked Ball" has been almost impossible to avoid. In the week or so leading up to its opening the media had been ablaze with indignation over its supposedly 'scandalous' interpretation of Verdi's masterpiece, with its 'gratuitous' scenes of nudity, satanic sex, transvestism and homosexual rape. English National Opera stood accused of 'losing the plot' while the charge against the production's Spanish director, Calixto Bieito (according to the press, Europe's 'most over-the-top director'), was that he has been provocative purely for the purposes of attracting personal and professional publicity. But by the time the curtain came down on the first night, the audience were most decidedly throwing not brickbats, but bouquets. The evening, though it has moments of acute psychological discomfort, is a thrilling theatrical experience, and, in musical terms, a triumph.
A note in the programme warns us that 'the performance contains scenes of a violent and sexual nature' and indeed it does. After the delicate pizzicato opening to the luscious overture, the curtain rises on a public lavatory. Fourteen men sit there, behind newspapers, in Perspex cublices, their trousers round their ankles. However, these men are not answering the call of nature. They are conspirators, plotting to murder thier king, and this is the only place where they can meet undetected to hatch their evil plan. Folr the story of this opera is that of the real life assassination in 1766 of the Swedish King, Gustavus III, who was shot at a masquerade. Calixto Bieito has updated it to 1970s Spain, post-Franco and before the restoration of the monarchy: a time, we are informed, of political violence, social turmoil, suspicion and intrigue. The conspirators – all dark glasses and sharp suits – leave, and in comes the unsuspecting Gustavus (the superb tenor, John Daszak) who is planning a grand masked ball. Gustavus declares his illicit passion for Amelia, the wife of his best friend and court adviser, Anckarstroem. This passion, although it has not, so far, been consummated, will lead inevitably to disaster. Daszak looks very regal in the role, and his light but deliciously rich voice soars over the orchestra as he sings of his pain at being in love with the wife of his closest friend.
In the next scene, Gustavus goes, in disguise, to spy on Madame Arvidson, an infamous brothel-keeper, whose nefarious activities the Minister of Justice wants to curtail. Gustavus is curious to see what this notorious woman does. Surrounded by a chorus of Lurex-clad prostitutes and transvestites including one startling-looking six footer in a spangly green mini-skirt - Madame Arvidson presides over a satanic ritual in which a naked couple smear each other with blood and then have (simulated) sex on-stage. Bieito's detractors claim that this is gratuitous, but, although it is certainly distracting, it is not; for Madame Arvidson is not simply a brothel-keeper, she is also a witch. The mezzo soprano Rebecca de Pont Davis is superbly scary in this role (she would make a marvellous Katisha) and she prophesies to the still-disguised Gustavus that he is soon to die, killed by the next man to shake his hand. Gustavus laughs at this chilling prediction; but the very next person to enter is Anckarstoem, who duly clasps him by the hand. We now know that the die has been cast. Anckarstroem will kill his friend. But, at this stage, Anckarstroem has no idea that Amelia (Clare Rutter) is the object of his bet friend's passion - a passion which she reciprocates. For she now also visits Madame Arvidson to ask her to cast a spell to make her fall out of love with Guastvus. Arvidson tells her that the only way to be cured is to go , at night, to the local 'place of execution' and to pick a special herb which grows there, and to distil and drink it. The herb seems to be the opposite of the magical love-in-idleness flower of A Midsummer's Night Dream, which causes everyone to fall violently IN love.
Gustavus overhears this encounter, and decides that he will go there at the same time, and declare his love to Amelia. It is now that we witness the most shocking event of this production - the brutal gang rape and garotting of a young man. It is absolutely harrowing, but it works very well in dramatic terms, for the corpse of the boy then transforms the stage into the 'place of execution' to which a terrified Amelia now goes. A solo cello, plangently beautiful, sets the scene for her sombre and frightening search for the magical herb. Clare Rutter's sproano is exquisite, bell-like in the upper registers and heartbreakingly beautiful as she sings of her confict between love and duty. Gustavus arrives and astonishes her with his passionate declaration. In a wonderfully tender duet, she acknowledges that she loves him in return. But Anckarstroem, who had followed the King to warn him about the conspirators, overhears. He is appalled at his wife's 'infidelity', as he believes it to be, and by his friend's betrayal. He decides to join forces with the conspirators, whom he arranges to meet the next day. At home, in a Phillipe Starck style chrome and black bathroom, Anckarstoem confronts Amelia and threatens to kill her. Then the two main conspirators arrive and they decide to draw lots as to who will actually strike the death blow. After a pugilistic and quasi-sexual frenzy, which, again, fits well with their collective psychology, the three men force Amelia to draw the name out of the hat. It is her husband's. The prophesy is coming true. Anckarstroem will stab the king at the ball - as long as he can recognise him behind his mask. But, at the ball, he extracts from Gustavus' secretary, Oscar, the vital information about the king's costume. Anckarstroem duly stabs him, but Gustavus uses his dying words to protest Amelia's innocence and to pardon his friend. This final section is an apotheosis of kingship in which Gustavus becomes quasi-divine, almost Christ-like in his suffering and forviveness, his people expressing their love for him as he expires. The orchestration which accompanies this passage is so sublime that it makes the hairs on the back of the neck stand up and sends shivers down the spine.
As the curtain fell I found tears streaming down my face. I also found myself wondering, as I heard 'Bravo!'s ringing all around me, what the fuss was really about. Yes, there are several shocking incidents, but they work very well, psycholgically and dramatically, within the overall concept. The orgiastic enthusiasm of the conspirators may be distasteful, but it is credible and true. Some opera goers may resist the implication that Gustavus is bisexual (we see him kiss a male courtier), but does that mean that he cannot also be sincerely in love with a woman? In any case the real life King Gustavus was homosexual and Beieto is drawing on this. But even if one hated the overall concept, the superb quality of the singing, playing and acting transcends any such objections. Throughout, the singers and the orchestra (brilliantly conducted by Andrew Litton) are in perfect balance.
Morever, the translation is notably good and doesn't have its 'elbows sticking out' as is so often the case with opera in English translation. The modern chrome set, and the striking lighting design, add hugely to the overall effect. I hope that the ridiculous broo-ha-ha will have served simply to increase the audience for this highly original and musically triumphant production. It is indeed a 'new' production, and a very brave one. It deserves to be met with a chorus of approval, not with narrow-minded contempt.
Isabel Wolff
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