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| Paula Murrihy and Liam Bonner as Dido and Aeneas |
By Rodney Punt
Two probing views of obsessive love spelled success for the marriage of inconvenience between Purcell’s Dido and Aeneas and Bartók’s Bluebeard’s Castle. Their double-bill opening Saturday at the Chandler Pavilion marked the LA Opera’s second
collaboration with wave-making Australian stage director Barrie Kosky. It also heralded the promise of a long-term
relationship.
Chief
Director of Berlin’s Komische Oper from 2012, Kosky debuted here last
year with a spoofy Mozart’s Magic Flute
that looked like a silent movie. As with that production, this sparely staged pairing
originated in Europe, but that's where their resemblance ends. Change-ups are a habit of the chameleon-like director.
Two and a half centuries span the two tragedies of Dido and Bluebeard, one with a lot of fun, the other with none. When Kosky
teases in an interview before the opening that the works have little in common,
you can count on seeing as many parallels as lanes on the freeway you took to
the Music Center. He spins an enigmatic few of them in the printed program: “Arrival
and departure, departure and arrival, a woman and a man, a man and a woman, a
lost Eden, a forgotten Eden and a remembered Eden.”
The protagonists of these tales are fodder for a
psychiatrist’s couch. Except for her brief amatory union with Aeneas, Dido’s
clinical depression keeps her so withdrawn from her court she heeds neither cheering
up nor sinister plots. Duke Bluebeard’s guarded split personality is a fatal
attraction to obsessive new wife Judith, who, against his will and her own safety,
makes him reveal his lethal all.
However linked the psycho-atmospherics may be, their
respective stagings sharply contrast. Katrin Lea Tag’s spare scenery,
slow-rising curtains, and vivid costumes (owing much to Julie Taymor and
Germany’s Pina Bausch) evoke radically different landscapes, historic time
zones, and sound-worlds. The use of unscripted whispers in both works heightens
the drama and helps span their stylistic discontinuities.
Dido and Aeneas
Dido is bathed in bright
lights and dressed in (mostly) pastel-infused but freakish period clothing. Its drama
unfolds on the outer edge of the stage proscenium, barricaded from behind
by an accordion-shaped screen. The narrowly defined space emphasizes the wafer-thin
superficiality of the courtiers, and probably also Dido’s hold on power. A long
white bench stretches across the stage to seat the retinue: a collection of
nit-wits, sycophants and nasty plotters, who by turns ape the droopy sentiments
of their queen or trot off to bizarre and brazen behaviors.
All the while they sing nicely to Purcell’s delicate score. (“If you drop it will break” was Kosky’s earlier characterization.) The music was realized with great fluency in the large hall, aided in projection by the forward placed screen. The modest-sized baroque orchestra was peppered with period instruments (wood bassoon, oboe and flute, with a continuo of organ, harpsichord and theorbos) and conducted to precision by Steven Sloane.
All the while they sing nicely to Purcell’s delicate score. (“If you drop it will break” was Kosky’s earlier characterization.) The music was realized with great fluency in the large hall, aided in projection by the forward placed screen. The modest-sized baroque orchestra was peppered with period instruments (wood bassoon, oboe and flute, with a continuo of organ, harpsichord and theorbos) and conducted to precision by Steven Sloane.
As Dido’s sister Belinda, soubrette soprano Kateryna Kasper
is the court’s excitable teenybopper. Her “To the hills and the vales”
shimmered with youthful enthusiasm as sung to an enchanted audience from the
outer edge of the orchestra pit.
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| From left: G. Thomas Allen, John Holiday, Darryl Taylor |
Outlandish comedy comes from the combo of a sorceress and
two witches sung by an improbable assemblage of three African-American
countertenors, led by recent Operalia winner John Holiday (the sorceress) with
G. Thomas Allen and Darryl Taylor. Dressed in pitch black and suggesting a trio
of harping crows, they were the conspirators against Dido who pranced and
danced and shook their jowly cheeks in celebration of their own wickedness.
Holiday even changed into a mock Dido dress as he spitefully employed an
imposter Mercury to order Aeneas’ departure for Rome. This has the intended effect of fatally demoralizing his queen. The sketch leveled the audience with laughter.
Handsome Liam Bonner’s Aeneas, en route from Troy to Rome,
is presented more as feckless wanderer than purposeful hero. His plush
baritonal colors lent plummy hues to his bass region and a tenorial gleam higher
up. After Dido’s fragile state of mind dismisses him for even thinking of leaving her,
Aeneas stomps off stage and down to the the audience seating area, slamming a
side door on his way out. Temper, temper.
Dido is the only role treated as serious, and the contrast
of her demeanor with that of the others enhances her isolation. In her local
debut as the sole holdover from European productions, Irish mezzo Paula Murrihy’s
aristocratic poise and pearly voice captured Dido’s exquisite melancholy,
furious anger, and, in her famous lament “When I am laid in earth” and its aftermath, her grisly
end-of-life journey of shocking gasps and sighs. As she dies, orchestra members
and courtiers, who earlier had migrated from stage to pit, depart one by one,
so that when Dido finally expires in a slump, she is left alone to commune with eternity.
The scene touchingly recollected the late Lorraine Hunt Lieberson of not so
many years ago singing Bach’s Ich habe genug.
Bluebeard's Castle
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| Claudia Mahnke as Judith and Robert Hayward as Duke Bluebeard |
The mood of Bluebeard’s
Castle after the interval grows even darker and much heavier. It unfolds on
a large empty disc sitting in the Chandler’s cavernous backstage, blackened but otherwise unadorned. The two protagonists, also draped in black, rotate on this disc in a glacially slow but intense dance of death. The spatial infinity suggests the
bottomless pit of Bluebeard’s concealed and bloody marital history and also
Judith’s morbid curiosity. The use of people in lieu of sets, which was suggested in Dido, here becomes literal. Traditional
productions employ seven actual doors, which Judith coaxes Bluebeard to open, but in this instance three sets of supernumeraries stand in for the chambers containing his former wives. Former iterations of the Duke himself stream gold dust, leafy vines, and water in a dystopian
Garden of Eden made fearsome and fatal after the fall.
Claudia Mahnke as Judith and Robert Hayward as Bluebeard act
out their Hungarian rendition of Whose Afraid
of Virginia Wolf, forcing open the doors to each other’s personalities. If, due to unrelieved narratives, their vocal tours de force can’t quite keep us engaged for the hour-long layer-peeling intensity, their
joint efforts earn points for honesty and sheer perseverance.
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| Ensemble in Bluebeard |
Bartók’s score is an expressionistic time bomb. Its massive
modern orchestra can be compared in size and sonority, also artistic
importance, to those of Stravinsky’s Rite
of Spring and Berg’s Wozzeck. Each
morbid revelation in the opera is accompanied by an ever more splendid
soundscape, the most dramatic being the brass ensemble that depicts the castle’s
magnificent gardens in a kind of post-Wagnerian grandeur. Steven Sloane and his
instrumental charges bridged the huge stylistic chasm after Purcell’s light
textures to realize superbly this musical Mount Everest.
Apropos and worthy of note, the heavy costs of this
joint production were not in sets but in musicians, and thanks for that.
Left in the mind’s eye after the performances was Dido’s white claustrophobia and Bluebeard’s black infinity, like the eternally clinging teardrops in a yin-yang.
Left in the mind’s eye after the performances was Dido’s white claustrophobia and Bluebeard’s black infinity, like the eternally clinging teardrops in a yin-yang.
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Performances continue through November 25. Contact: LA Opera
All photos are by Craig Matthew for the Los Angeles Opera
Rodney Punt can be contacted at [email protected]
