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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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The
London Coliseum
An English
National Opera co-production with
the Gran Teatre del Liceu, Barcelona
and the Royal Danish Opera, Copenhagen.
21
February - 16 April 2002
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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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