Don Giovanni Royal Opera House livestream

Mozart Don Giovanni  livestreamed from the Royal Opera House tonight., I was at the premiere in February 2014 and loved it. Kasper Holten's staging brilliantly mirrored Don Giovanni's,personality. - always on the move, always elusive, always half hidden even in plain sight. At that time the production was hard to grasp for some, but it’s now proved its worth.  This time round, Mariusz Kwiecień is back and as good as ever, with  a strong Leporello in Ildebrando d'Arcangelo, Pavol Bresik as Don Ottavio and Willard White as the Commendatore. Marc Minkowski conducted.

The filming, though, diminshes the production. Part of the in-house experience was the sense that the set was like Don Giovanni's mind, composed of many compartments, doors opening and closing everywhere, passages opening out then disappearing. What is reality?  What is illusion? Some of the constructs are physical, others projected onto the hard surface throughvideo, always changing, deliberately misleading.  Words and drawings appear then fade before you can pin them down. . Don Giovanni, all over.   So do not judge this production by the video, and go to a live performance if you can.   Though the images flash and flicker, the ending is unequivocal, though it's a variation onn the usual, and it's stunning theatre.   Please read below what I wrote about this Don Giovanni premiere  in 2014 and also read about Holten's Juan, HERE a movie adaptation of the Don Giovanni meme, not the opera as such but extremely good .

"The new Mozart Don Giovanni at the Royal Opera House London is so innovative that it will take time to sink in fully. What is Don Giovanni but an opera that operates on many different levels?  Many will panic at the very idea of anything new. But Don Giovanni is so  rich that anyone, including the audience, who doesn't keep learning from it, will not do it justice. This production has so much

insight  that will enrich appreciation of the opera itself,  and of the process that goes into the making of opera. Kasper Holten has pulled off a great feat: this Don Giovanni could be rewarding for years to come. Indeed, I think we'll appreciate it even more once the initial shock effect wears off. Women's names appear on the backdrop, gradually developing into a torrent in tinier and tinier script. We are seeing the Catalogue unfolding before us. There are so many names that they become undecipherable, the identities of the women blurred. What sort of man keeps a catalogue of conquests?  What motivates such obsessional behaviour? Don Giovanni's relationships with women are mechanical, bringing no lasting pleasure. What is really behind his compulsiveness? This production is psychologically penetrating and exceptionally subtle. The images often suggest marble, a stone that seems soft to the touch but is enduring. Like women, perhaps, or like the Commendatore's statue.

Don Giovanni smashes a stone head but ends up trapped behind stone walls. Is he in the Commendatore's tomb or in some frozen womb?

This sensitive approach to the opera reveals itself in the multiplicity of visual images. This sensitive approach to the opera reveals itself in the multiplicity of visual images. The central structure , designed by Es Devlin, resembles MC Escher's etchings of palaces with staircases that lead nowhere, and buildings that reverse themselves in precise, but

irrational ways.  Like Don Giovanni's mind. He compartmentalizes his

emotions, locking them in a maze of subterfuge. He needs escape routes if only to escape responsibility for himself.  Perhaps he seeks challenge in order to prove himself? Gambling with the Commendatore is the ultimate dare. Leporello's scared but Don Giovanni is defiant. Suicide by Stone Guest?

Onto this structure, numerous images are projected, allowing exceptionally rapid changes of nuance and detail. Music develops  with every note and operates on many simultaneous layers. Physical stagecraft just can't compete. It felt as if we were watching notation dance and come to life. At one stage the singers are seen each in their individual vortexes, moving forwards while being pushed back by the force of the visual projections. We know it's video, but the image is so powerful that it expresses the force of the music and the psychic trauma the characters are going through.Luke Hall's video designs elevate projection into an art form. A hundred years ago, electricity transformed stagecraft : now we are heading into  a new doimension.Nicola Luisotti's conducting emphasized agility and brittleness. This wasn't a full-blooded Romantic interpretation, but something at once

late Baroque and surprisingly modern. How poisonously dissonant the fortepiano, harpsichord and cello continuo sounded! Don Giovanni was elegant though he used his grace for evil purposes. (Luisotti played the fortepiano).

Watching this Don Giovanni was stimulating because the visuals, for once, kept up with the constant motion in the music, which reflects Don Giovanni's obsession with

staying ahead of the game. This production elevates video into art form, much in the way that electricity transformed stagecraft a hundred years ago, yet it's also pertinent to meaning.  Don Giovanni is a master of

deception. Portraying his personality through tricks of light intensifies the sense of constantly changing illusion.  When Leporello hides, we can still just about see him, camouflaged in moving shadows. When the Stone Guest appears, he materializes as if from the very

structure of the building,  By this stage in the opera, the images are becing more recognizable, as if reality is starting to intrude on Don Giovanni's  consciousness. The Stone Guest stands above  the image of an eye, a reference to the all-seeing Eye Of God, often seen in Catholic symbolism,  and also in Freemasonry.  Normal physical staging could not produce this level of detail.

When Don Giovanni is drawn down to hell, he's seen trapped behind high walls that fill the whole stage area. All his life, Don Giovanni has survived by manipulating people. Suddenly, he's all alone. What can be more horrifying to someone like that to be alone and having to confront himself ? Being entombed alive is far more chilling than comic book hellfire. Moreover, he hears the Sextet, taunting him from a distance. The "happy ending" is sometimes unrealistic, like an add-on moral lesson. Here, it's incredibly poignant.

Part of the joy of this production was the way the visuals stayed as backdrop, allowing the singers to take prominence. The big set arias were given full prominence. In this production, Mariusz Kwiecień was very much the central character. His elegance suggested Don Giovanni

assumed his superiority as if it were his natural right.  As the net closes in on the character, Kwiecień sang with  vehemence verging on

demonic, without losing his innate poise.

Visionary Der fliegende Holländer Kasper Holten

The Flying Dutchman confronts Daland : Johann Reutter and Gregory Frank, photo Heiki Tuuli, Finnish National Opera

An exceptional Wagner Der fliegende Holländer, so challenging that, at first, it seems shocking. But Kasper Holten's new production, currently at the Finnish National Opera, is also exceptionally intelligent,  a thoughtful approach to the  deeper levels in the opera. Why is the Dutchman doomed ?  Why does he need the love of a woman to break the curse ?  Wagner without ideas isn't Wagner, and this opera is no sea shanty. Holten connects  Der fliegende Holländer to Der Meistersinger von Nürnberg and even to Parsifal by bringing out sub-texts on artistic creativity and metaphysics.  And what amazing theatre this is, too, and very sensitive to the abstract cues in the music. .

Just as the Overture begins quietly with woodwinds, we encounter The Dutchman  (Johan Reuter)  in a contemplative mood.  He's in a studio, possibly a painter who makes portraits. A woman is lying on his bed. Model, lover or muse, we don't now, but as tempi increase, and the orchestra swells like the ocean, Reuter moves outside, exposed to the elements of the storm that is breaking.  Huge figures loom over him, suggesting storm clouds and crashing waves. Darkened figures scurry past, like the cross- currents in the score. Back in his studio, the Dutchman is confronted by female dancers, who writhe as the music does, tantalizing him yet pulling away.  The Overture reaches a crescendo, then decelerates.  We glimpse the private Dutchman, as Reuter's face contorts in agony. He's having a panic attack. Far more moving, and human, than Dutchman-as-Demon. 

Daland (Gregory Frank) and his crew have survived the storm unscathed.  Unlike The Dutchman, Daland is a public person, who likes status and wealth. Here, he's in what might be an art gallery reception, where the rich pose. They don't actually "do" art. Amidst this sophistication, the Steuermann's song seems unsettling, too sincere and too simple to fit in with the pretentious setting. But so it should be, for the Steersman (Tuomas Katajala)  represents earthier values. Significantly, in the libretto, Daland passes responsibility for his ship to the lowly sailor. "Gefahr ist nicht, doch gut ist's, wenn du wachst."  He doesn't realize that the Dutchman has quietly entered the party unnoticed.  Low winds and brass moan, and suddenly the Dutchman materializes and the crowd clears. "Der Frist is um", sings Reuter.  Gold means nothing. "Ew'ge Vernichtung, nimm mich auf!" with intense agony. The party crowd repeat the phrase, but still don't get the full import.  Daland thinks he's been through the same storm. If only he's paid attention to the music Wagner wrote around the Dutchman!  He doesn't even realize what he might be letting his daughter in for. The Dutchman brings out a portrait. Drums beat in the orchestra, but Daland's laying around with his i-pad, oblivious.

The women are seen spinning, their movements reflecting the circular figures in the music though their cheerful singing parodies the infinitely grimmer cycles the Dutchman has to keep repeating.  Pottery classes are middle class, producing nice objects, not necessarily functional, or artistic. Senta (Camilla Nylund) has her sights on greater things. She grabs the clay on her wheel and squishes it up into a shape that vaguely suggests a penis, reminding us that sexuality, in some form or other, is implicit in the true meaning of this opera.  Shen then dons a white painter suit and paints with huge, dramatic brush strokes as she sings her keynote monologue, without missing a beat or inflection in her singing: quite a feat.  The other women look on, uncomprehending. It's interesting how Wagner sets their chorus as quasi-religious chorale.  Nylund jumps bodily into the painting, getting dirty.  The women grab their bags, preparing to flee. Mary, (Sari Nordqvist), the only woman with individual flair, pays attention.  When Erik (Mika Pojhonen) comes with roses, he flinches.  Hes a land person not someone who faces the open seas.  The Steersman's song is exquisitely beautiful because he lives: Erik's music is sincere, but dreams are the only time he lives in the imagination.
 

Senta and the Dutchman meet, and gradually their music builds up towards intense passion. In this production, we see their connection grow as the Dutchman sees a painting Senta's created. He takes out his camera, in deep appreciation. The use of a revolving stage allows the action to flow, marking the subtle gradations in their relationship.  Eventually, the Dutchman and Senta end up, embracing tenderly in bed, but almost immediately the Sailors' chorus intrudes upon their dream  This time, the innocent song sounds frantic, the rhythm clipped with near ostinato violence.   Alcohol fuelled sexuality and fundamental antagonism between the living and the dead. This isn't a party in the normal sense.  Senta sleeps on, but the Dutchman has been through this before. The nightmare's coming back, as it does every seven years. The ghostly chorus surround the bed, their faces masked and menacing, flashing their phones, to blind the Dutchman. When he's encircled, they point at him accusingly.  This staging also emphasizes the way the Norwegian chorus parallel the chorus of the Dutchman's crew, and both adapt the Steersman's tune in brutal new ways.  The village women dance with the Dutchman, but their coldness has a Flower Maiden surrealism.  He tries to make sense by painting on them, as an artist does, but he's doomed, pursued by the singing, the music and the storm that's building up. Demonic lighting effects, sharp angles match visuals to music  Modern technology can whip up cosmic storms of truly metaphysical force.

The music stills, for a moment, and the Dutchman wakes. Senta's still there, asleep. Has he broken the curse.  Erik enters, scolding, showing Senta clips of their happy past on his i-phone. .  For the Dutchman, the nightmare descends again. "Verloren! Ach! Verloren! Ewig verlornes Heil!" The Dutchman sets sail, in his mind. Everything's turning in dizzying circles: we see closeups of Reuter's face as if taken from a small handheld, projected across the entire stage.  "Du kennst mich nicht, du ahnst nicht, wer ich bin!". Reality disintegrates. Do we see the Dutchman shoot himself  We know he cannot die. But suddenly we're back in the art gallery, Senta is showing an installation she's made in which the Dutchman's last moments are preserved forever on endless tape loop.  Has the Dutchman sacrificed his dreams to save Senta? Or has Senta sacrificed herself, after all, to redeem him?  Nylund turns away from the crowd, and we see her, "as" Reuter, her features contorted in agony, as if her soul were disintegrating within.  Is the Dutchman free, or has the curse fallen on Senta in his place ? A tantalizing but brilliant ending, which suggests that being creative is a vocation, where vision matters. Sacrifice and redemption, through art.  Holten's  Der fliegende Holländer  is true Wagner.

Watch this production, conducted for the Finnish National Opera by John Fiore, on Opera Platform only until 17th February. When his Wagner Meistersinger reaches London, no doubt the hate mob will rise in fury, but Kasper Holten absolutely deserves respect for his integrity.

Shock - Kasper Holten leaves ROH

Half an hour ago, the Royal Opera House announced that Kasper Holten will be leaving the Royal Opera House from March 2017. Here's his statement:

"I love working at ROH – and with all the amazing colleagues here – and it feels very painful to let go of that in 2017. But when I moved to London, my partner and I didn’t have children. Now we do, and after much soul searching we have decided that we want to be closer to our families and inevitably that means we make Copenhagen our home where the children will grow up and go to school.

So when Alex offered me an extension of my contract for another five years beyond summer 2016, I have decided only to ask for an extension of seven months, giving the ROH time to plan for my succession and for me to continue the work as long as possible. I will therefore leave my position in March 2017 after Tony and I open our new production of Wagner’s Meistersinger here at ROH. But my work isn’t done yet, so please don’t do too many farewells quite yet!"

This is sad news for those of us who genuinely love opera as a living, ever-growing art form. Holten breathed new life into the ROH, with his imaginative flair and love for the genre. Unfortunately the world seems to be descending into a mire of self righteous, blinkered philistinism, not only in the arts but elsewhere.  What lies ahead? I hate to think. But I wish Holten and his family everything good, and thank him for a few years of interesting, stimulating work.

Carl Nielsen Maskarade Kasper Holten Copenhagen

Denmark has produced many composers, from Nils Gade to  Per Nørgård, and more, but Carl Nielsen is perhaps the best known. This year, the 150th anniversary of his birth, his music is being honoured all over the world. In the UK alone, we've had two major cycles of his symphonies (Oramo and Storgårds).  The First Night of the BBC Proms this year features the famous Overture to Nielsen's opera, Maskarade.  In Denmark, Nielsen has iconic status. The Royal Danish Opera (Det Kongelige Teater) revived the celebrated Kasper Holten production from 2006. It's available on DVD but you can hear this year's performance recorded live this April for free, HERE on BBC Radio 3. 

If anything, the 2015 performance is even livelier and more spirited, which suits the opera very well.   Unlike Nielsen's Saul og David (which I wrote about here),  Maskarade is bright and fluffy, with deliberate references to Mozart, in the music as well as in the plot.  A mask disguises identity, and a masked ball is an opportunity for adventure and intrigue. Masters and servants mix as equals. Rich men and thieves (sometimes one and the same) mingle undetected. Fantasy reigns and social order can be overturned.

Kasper Holten's Maskarade was created when he was Director of the Copenhagen Opera. It has some of the character of his acclaimed Wagner Ring, although the down to earth domesticity works even better in Maskarade.  Leander (Niels Jørgen Riis) wakes after an all-night party. His bedroom's askew, his bed upright. Henrik (Johan Reuter) helps him sober up. Henrik is Leander's minder, though Leander's family isn't as rich as they were. Henrik has aspirations, he's more couth than Leporello. He bursts into Latin from time to time. But he's a valet, for all that. Leander's fallen in love with a mystery girl he met at a masked ball, so he rebels when his father Jeronimus (Stephen Milling) wants him to marry a girl who can restore the family fortunes.  As Jeronimus, head of the formerly wealthy household, sings: "Once we knew our proper station, husband, wife, daughter, son, high born, low born, all the nation"....youth would never need upbraiding........now it's all masquerading. Now it's all equality!" 

As it turns out the intended bride Leonora (Anne Margrethe Dahl) fancies Leander too, but the pair don't realize that their parents' plot might unintentionally work out right. But meanwhile, good natured wit, in the music with its witty refrains and in the visuals. Pretentious folk wear coloured eye masks , while earthy folks like Henrik walk around in a T-shirt (though he, too wears a mask when he sings a parody of Jeronimus's s "masquerading" aria). Masks off when Leander and Leonora sing their magical love duet. At the ball, masks aren't needed either - everyone's dressed up as someone they'd like to be. Acrobats sail down from the rafters. A jolly time is had by all.  An even funnier scene where Leander and Leonore celebrate suburban domestic bliss with a barbecue and plastic furniture. Henrik, dressed as Elvis, seduces Leonore's maid ! This, I think perfectly captures the spirit of Carl Nielsen.  Maskarade is Die Fledermaus without the cynical undercurrent of viciousness. It's not grandiose or maudlin, but quirky, tolerant kindness. The booing lynch mob at Covent Garden will never understand.

Please also see my piece on Carl Nielsen's Saul og David "Not a butter cookie"  HERE

This Saul og David is also available on BBC Radio 3

Not a butter cookie - Carl Nielsen Saul og David, Royal Danish Opera

Det Kongelige Teater, Copenhagen, celebrates the 150th anniversary of Denmark's most famous composer, Carl Nielsen, with a new production of Saul og David.  Watch a video trailer and read more HERE.  Listen to the audio-only broadcast on BBC Radio 3 HERE. Definitely worth listening to, because it's superlative. Everyone's inspired, knowing the significance of the occasion. Nielsen himself played in the orchestra in this very house, which may also have a bearing.

Nielsen's Maskarade may be better known but this performance makes a powerful case for  Saul og David.  Michael Schønwandt conducts.  He's conducted a lot of Nielsen's orchestral work, hence the authoritative confidence he brings.  While Maskarade is light hearted (though deeper than one assumes), Saul og David seems to come straight from the hard rockface of personal conviction.  Considering that Nielsen was a man of the theatre, it's surprising that Saul og David makes no compromises for popular taste. It's a bitter tale, though highly dramatic. King Saul is cursed and young David triumphs. The music is spartan, so singular that it's a jolt to realize it's more or less contemporary with Madama Butterfly, Kashchey the Immortal and Salome. That, though, is part of its charm, for Nielsen was a rugged individualist, with what has been described as a "homespun" philosophy of music. Although he wasn't specially religious he would have been familiar with the aesthetics of  Lutheran piety, where the Bible provided moral and spiritual compass. There aren't many Scandinavian operas, though there  have always been many Scandinavian singers.

Schønwandt gets the right balance between rough-hewn strength and emotional finesse, drawing from Johann Reuter perhaps the finest performance in his career. Reuter's Saul is finely nuanced and sensitively modulated, bringing out the complexities of Saul's personality, Niels Jørgen Riis sings David, his clear, bright tenor suggesting David's youth and  beauty. But the warmth of Riis's expression makes the listener feel that David's magnanimity is genuinely sincere. Reuter and Riis have been working together for years, so the dynamic between them feels effortless.  Recently I was watching Nielsen's Maskarade , directed by Kasper Holten for Det Kongelige Teater,  in which Reuter sings Henrik to Riis's Leander.  Because they're so good together, the comedy could flow naturally and unforced, which matters in an opera like Maskarade which predicates on lightness of touch and gentle good humour.  Holten's production stressed the homespun intimacy of the piece, which I think suits its understated Mozartean elegance nicely, without being too arch.  This new production of Saul og David was directed by David Pountney, who directed Nielsen's Maskarade for the Royal Opera House in 2005. Saul og David can bear much more forcefully dramatic treatment than Maskarade, so perhaps Pountney's style will work well.