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Christ Recrucified London
Royal Opera House
04/25/2000 -
Bohuslav Martinu, The Greek Passion
Esa Ruuttunen (Grigoris), Richard Angas (Aga), Terry Jenkins
(Schoolmaster), Jeremy White (Archon), McCallum (Ladas), Roderick Earle
(Kostandis), Timothy Robinson (Yannakos), Peter Auty (Michelis), Robin
Legatte (Panait), Jorma Silvasti (Manolios), Jenny Grahn (Lenio), Gwynne
Howell (Fotis), Grant Dickson (Old man), Marie McLaughlin (Katerina),
Hilary Taylor (Despinio), Peter Wedd (Nikolio), Elizabeth Sikora (Old
woman), James Bobby (Dimitri), Alasdair Elliott (Andonis)
Charles Mackerras (conductor), David Pountney (director)
Royal Opera Chorus, Orchestra of the Royal Opera House There is something surreal about the history of this, first, version of
Martinu's Greek Passion. It was rejected by the Board of Covent
Garden in 1957 -- one of the people consulted said that it might be
interesting to the general public, but not to the 'exclusive, intellectual
audience of Covent Garden'. Martinu completely reworked his opera, using a
few pages of his original draft and gaving many of the remaining pages to
his friends as presents. Tonight's score, first performed at Bregenz last
year, was reconstructed by putting scattered pages together with a piano
reduction as a check. Fortunately, the disiecta membra fit perfectly, with
nothing missing. Sadly, the Royal Opera House was not exactly packed,
though whether that is evidence of the exclusive, intellectual quality of
its audience remains to be seen.
Other good news: Stefanos Lazaridis' powerful and complex unit set did not
have any moving parts to break and rotated happily on its turntable. Other
bad news: two years ago, the story of refugees rejected by a complacent
community had distressing resonances of Bosnia and Kosovo; today, the
priest who refuses to help the starving refugees, arguing that a dying girl
has cholera, sounds painfully like some of our own politicians who seem to
link refugees automatically with deceit and crime.
Martinu's first version of the Greek Passion in fact emphasizes even
more powerfully the bonds of community, working for good in the growing
solidarity of the cast of the passion play, and for evil in the village
elders closing ranks again a vulnerable 'enemy'. The more fluid scene
structure and the impressionistic music reveal an evolving network of ties
and frictions between individuals and groups, in contrast to the clear cut
action and symmetries of the revised version. The voices in the first
version move seamlessly between realistic, poetic and commentating
language, and associated speaking and musical styles, and there is also a
narrator who moves the perspective still further out. Manolios' Christ-like
focal role is downplayed, and he becomes simply one of the evolving
community of the 'apostles' and 'Mary Magdalene'. (In this production, he
is not stabbed by Panait but stoned by the whole village.) The opera ends
not with his death but with a final rupture of sympathy as the villagers
sing alleluias to celebrate Christmas in their comfortable traditional way
while the refugees, mourning Manolios, move on singing Kyrie eleison.
David Pountney's production followed the bold contrasts of the music and
text, constructing scenes as they fall in the music, a sweeping liturgical
chorus, a four-way bantering dialogue, a snatch of popular dance music.
Lazarides' set had a range of platforms and stairs that allowed characters
and groups to interact at all angles. The only fixture was the Stammtisch
downstage left where the priest Grigoris, the miser Lada and the boss
Archon, plus the schoolmaster and the Aga convene. (In this version, the
Aga is an acerbic bystander who turns into a detached narrator. Losing him
is probably one of the improvements of the revised version.) A high
platform, initially in the centre of the set, recalled Martinu's home
bell-tower, and was used by the priest and the apostles to state their
Christian beliefs. There was no sense of the hills or pastures mentioned,
only of a community where everybody is watching everybody else. The
costumes were in-period for 1922, but the traditional dress of the
villagers was pretty timeless.
The singers and chorus worked outstandingly as a single ensemble. Marie
McLaughlin stood out as Katerina, not just as the only substantial female
character. Wearing probably the most unflattering dress any soprano has
ever tolerated, she still looked beautiful and sang with an earthy passion
and sympathy. Jorma Silvasti was a complex Manolios with a fine,
authoritative voice. Timothy Robinson sang beautifully as Yannakos, the
postman cast as James the apostle, and also caught the character's simple
impulses, greed and then kindness. Gwynne Howell was very moving as Fotis,
the refugees' priest.
This is undoubtedly a more difficult opera to stage than Martinu's revised
version, which is effectively a different work with its tidy scenes and
liturgical set pieces. This version is also emotionally more difficult: it
is often not possible to say whether the liturgical music in particular is
ironic or not, and the machinations and double-think of the village
establishment are as painful to watch as the suffering of the refugees. The
end is also more distressing, with the refugees not just moving on but
being deliberately shut out. The Covent Garden audience seemed to
appreciate the performances. But the Greek Passion, especially in
this version and in this production, does not provide a conventional climax
of emotion before we all go home. The departure of the refugees through the
audience in the stalls at the end underlined the continuing conflict
between compassion and complacency in everyone.
H.E. Elsom
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