Akhenaten Urania. Met opera relay. Budapest
Nov 23rd 2019
I did see this work at the ENO in the early 80’s when it had its London premiere. To be honest I do not remember very much about it except that it had an impact. Eliot-like I think I ‘had the experience/but missed the meaning’. Always good to get an Eliotic reference in somewhere, Steve Patriarca? However, this was very different. I think I began to experience the meaning. And I think this was because of the production.
I think the most interesting and involving aspect of the whole experience was the way that the staging fitted in with the extraordinary style of the music. The hypnotic repetitiveness of the musical figurations was, I felt, reflected in the stark but intensely beautiful stage pictures that we saw – from the set, through the costumes and the often fantastic scale on which they were created – the trains of Akhenaten and Nefertiti for example in their Act 2 duet and A’s slow ascent up the staircase with a background of the sun (an image rightly used in much PR by the Met). – and with the intensely slow and often intimately-small-scale physical movement of the performers. This was where there was a real benefit of a film with close-ups so one could see, for example, in the aforementioned duet, A’s and N’s hands very slowly – very slowly indeed – move towards each other and gently touch. In the three acts the overall stage picture reflected the dramatic thrust of the story – of how this one Pharaoh tried to move from polytheism to monotheism but was defeated – partly self-inflicted as suggested in this work as he seemingly was only interested in this and not in governing. In the first act, and most emphatically in the second, the stage was plain, uncluttered with one at most main focus, in terms of objects in stage and in the set, which over the first two acts effectively conveyed the move from polytheism to monotheism. In the third and final act, there were many more distinct areas on the stage, suggesting the fragmentation of Egyptian society under his rule. This was emphasized by having him and his family in a box-like area at the front of the stage, isolated from everything and everyone else, thus cleverly suggesting how he had retreated from his role as ruler and representative for the whole country as opposed to focusing on his one god. Like Tristan and Isolde in Act 2, they were completely in their own world which was detached from normal reality – and wit similar tragic consequences.
I mentioned earlier the ‘hypnotic repetitiveness’ of the music which I know I a terrible cliché (although, of course, as with any cliché there is a considerable degree of truth in it) but in experiencing the whole work I realized that there is a lot more than this characteristic and in fact one becomes aware of much more subtle changes in listening over a long period of time and changes of orchestration, modulations and slight variants of figurations become much more apparent. These are not always discerned if one only listens to a short part of a work in this style – works in this tradition need to be heard on their own scale for their marvels to be fully appreciated I think – and this is certainly true of the operas.
The other fascinating aspect of the production and one that garnered much publicity was the use of a juggling troupe throughout the performance. Just stated this baldly, it can sound somewhat ridiculous and absurd – why would one do that? – but seeing and experiencing it…it made sense. The movement of the balls at times reflected the movement of the music, drawing attention to it while at other times it contrasted with it – yet in both these cases one was made more aware of the subtleties of the musical soundscape as there was a physical representation of it – or of a contrasting rhythm which oddly, had the same effect – if this makes sense. It did in the theatre though. It was not a distraction which was what I feared when I first read about it. At the end with the deaths of the protagonists, the heavy dropping of the juggling balls provided a marvellous counterpoint to the other action on the stage and really added wonderfully to the emotional impact of the deaths.
The host Joyce DiDonato was pretty sound – she was not TOO gushingly American in her interactions with the singers and her questions were pretty good – although not as good as some where you had a real sense of two top-level singers discussing their craft. She had great rapport with Costanzo though! But surely they could have found some slightly more intelligent questions than the two used that listeners had sent in…I have great admiration for the singers who can go almost immediately from performing into a live and unscripted |(?) chat though. As ever though with these relays, the most fascinating part of the intervals was when the camera was just silently there observing the backstage crew going about their tasks. Riveting!
The singers were, universally and without exception, outstanding. I think this must be remarkably difficult music to learn as was interestingly referenced with the interview with J’Nai Bridges – a glorious voice and magnetic stage presence. Here’s to a great career! For all of them, the vocal line is constantly cruelly exposed (as well as often in a sustainedly difficult tessitura) and so any flaws will be as exposed as if one is singing Mozart.
So, a fantastic experience – and I am going to go to the new Wozzeck for sure and perhaps the new Dutchman with Bryn Terfel (must support the great Welsh singers, eh, Elen Haf, Kelvin Williams!). And as ever, any comments/corrects/disagreements from musicians (Edward Sims/John Fallas/Hugh Lynch) much welcomed.