THE DAMNATION OF TERRY GILLIAM

Here you go. My Faust review for the Independent.

THE DAMNATION OF FAUST
English National Opera, 6 May 2011

Review by Jessica Duchen (for The Independent)

Poor old Berlioz. The moment Terry Gilliam was announced as director
of this new ENO staging, it was obvious that the composer would
scarcely get a look in, at least in advance. It’s the first venture
into opera (in a co-production with De Vlaamse Opera, Antwerp) for the
former Monty Python animator and director of such legendary movies as
Brazil, Twelve Monkeys and The Fisher King. The question, of course,
was: could this operatic novice deliver in a field where so many other
film supremos have fallen flat on their faces?

Well, in certain ways Berlioz doesn’t get a look in in the finished
version either, since Gilliam has elected to take us through a journey
through German history, all the way from Romanticism – the red-haired
Faust himself is straight out of that famed Caspar David Friedrich
painting – to…you guessed it, Marguerite rises to heaven from
Auschwitz. It’s not so much Monty Python as The Producers, so full is
the show of camp, dancing, exercising Nazis. Springtime for Terry and
Berlioz, anyone? But Python fans will be glad to know that close to
the start we do get a glimpse of something much resembling the Knights
that say Ni.

Berlioz’s Faust is a challenge at the best of times – it’s not even
opera, strictly speaking, but in the composer’s terminology a ‘légende
dramatique’, part cantata, part opera and possibly as ill-suited to
the stage as Goethe’s ‘closet drama’ (a deliberately unstageable play)
that inspired it. But Berlioz, Gilliam and the character of
Mephistopheles, the devil, have two great things in common: a vast
imagination and a sense of unbounded mischief that means breaking all
the rules, including ‘avoid cliché’; Gilliam seems to have elected to
do the latter so spectacularly that it floors everyone anyway. At
least sometimes.

When it doesn’t work, it really doesn’t work. After all, the Nazis had
nothing whatsoever to do with Berlioz, who wrote this magnificent work
back in 1846, let alone Goethe. Yet the best moments are stunning.
Having spent most of the first half thinking “When are we ever going
to grow up and get past putting the Nazis into  opera?” by the end of
the evening this critic was shaken and profoundly moved.

All credit to ENO for pulling it off. It’s a phenomenally slick,
complex show of many components and brilliant theatrical effects:
Faust and Mephisto’s motorbike ride to the gates of hell, dodging
“birds” that are aircraft dropping bombs, Faust’s entry to – and exit
from – hell itself, and the chilling transformation in Act I of the
songs of the Rat and the Flea into anti-Semitic cabaret horrors. And
there’s a brilliant moment at which Gilliam literally turns back time:
the precision of its execution alone would have been astounding even
if it hadn’t happened to work conceptually.

Gilliam’s not-so-secret weapons are his Mephistopheles, Christopher
Purves at his  most charismatic, infallible and infinitely nuanced;
and, as Marguerite Oppenheim (yes, really), the glorious Christine
Rice, whose rich yet pure mezzo - and aching calls of ‘Alas’ as she is
herded into the cattle truck - suits this music to perfection. Peter
Hoare as Faust performed strongly in the first act, though the start
of Act II found him suffering in the high notes and somewhat losing
his stride for a short while thereafter. The orchestra and chorus were
on fabulous form under Ed Gardner’s baton.

Goethe and Werther

It's been a week here of French Opera Based On Goethe, with Covent Garden's Werther and ENO's The Damnation of Faust opening within 24 hours of each other. I'll post a link as soon as my review of the latter is available on the website. Meanwhile here's the feature-length version of my 'Observations' piece about Werther. Plus a little sample of Massenet at his dusky, sexy best.

I'll be at the performance on Wednesday night. The question everyone's too scared to ask is 'Can Villazon still sing?' Ed Seckerson says he can and does. But the only samples of him in Werther on Youtube date back a few years and are kind of distressing at times, so for now here is, uh, someone else.




Jules Massenet’s opera Werther is opening at the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden. And, looking at its origins, it seems amazing that this morbid, sugary and really rather French creation should be the chief stage version of Goethe’s searing novella The Sorrows of Young Werther. The book was written when the great German poet was only 24 and it was first published as early as 1774. Mozart was 18 at the time, Beethoven a toddler and Schubert not yet born. Goethe revised the book in 1787. But Massenet’s opera did not appear until over a century later, in 1892.

I’ve been hunting for earlier operatic adaptations of Goethe’s story and so far have drawn a blank. It’s possible that the novella, which was based on Goethe’s own experience of unrequited love and bore an uncanny parallel with the suicide of a friend, may have scared composers away. It was a scandal-ridden bestseller that sparked a fashion craze, revolutionary concerns and a spate of copycat suicides; several authorities banned it. Perhaps it was just too famous, too dangerous, too enticing. It could no more have been turned into an opera in its own time than could Lady Chatterley’s Lover.

Goethe’s tale describes the passion of a young poet for the pragmatic Charlotte. His love seems unrequited; she marries another man; finally Werther shoots himself. The book is terse and spare; its most emotional passages are swathes of translated poetry supposedly by Ossian, mirroring Werther’s turbulent feelings as he reads it aloud to Charlotte. He resolves to die not because Charlotte does not love him, but because it turns out, too late, that she does.

The story looks perfect for adaptation by a German romantic – Schubert, Schumann, Weber or Mendelssohn; and Brahms requested that his Piano Quartet in C minor should be published with an illustration of Werther on its cover. Yet all these composers missed the chance to create an opera that did justice to the author.

Massenet (1842-1912) finally muscled in where his peers feared to tread. Beside Goethe’s original, his version can look desperately sentimental: Werther dies by inches in Charlotte’s arms while the tragedy is offset by anodyne Christmas scenes for kiddiwinks. Nevertheless, parts of Werther remain peculiarly magical. Massenet was famed for his expert orchestration, and the opera owes much to this:  the hero has his own soundworld, darkly translucent, replete with harp and low strings, and his aria ‘Pourquoi me reveiller?’ is a serious showstopper.

Highly successful in his day, Massenet wrote as many as 25 operas; aged 36, he became the youngest member ever elected to the Académie des Beaux-Arts. He knew exactly how to pander to the public. Debussy described his situation pithily: “His brethren could not easily forgive Massenet this power of pleasing which, strictly speaking, is a gift. His is a delightful kind of fame, the secret envy of many of those great artists who can only warm their hands at the somewhat pallid flame provided by the approbation of the elect.”

As a professor of composition at the Paris Conservatoire, Massenet coached fine youngsters including Ernest Chausson and Charles Koechlin. But eventually, with the rise of more forward-thinking musicians including Debussy himself, Ravel and ultimately Messiaen, the sepia glow of such romanticism faded substantially from view.

Werther, though, has a secret weapon: it is a glorious vehicle for a star tenor. Recently, new high-profile performers have aided its resuscitation, notably Jonas Kaufmann. Now, at the ROH, Rolando Villazón is to take the title role, after a chequered period of vocal problems that has seen him testing an alternative career as TV presenter and talent show judge. The Mexican singer is a passionate performer who pours heart and soul into music and acting alike. All eyes will be on him in the hope he can rise to the challenge of this mysteriously mesmerising work.

Werther opens at the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, on 5 May. Box office: 020 7304 4000


[AFTERTHOUGHT, Sunday 11.35: HAS anyone ever made an opera out of Lady Chatterley's Lover? If not, could it work? *sounds of brain-cogs whirring...*]

The thin end of the epiglottis?

Do opera cinecasts bring us the best of both worlds - live opera plus film - or just the thin ends of two wedges? Can they be more than just radio plus epiglottis? A few questions I'm addressing in today's Independent.... http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/classical/features/nice-aria-shame-about-the-film-2279518.html

Meanwhile, stand by for a French opera fete as Werther opened last night at the ROH and Ed Seckerson has given it five stars; and La damnation de Faust launches at ENO, directed by Terry Gilliam, this evening...the rapid response unit is out for the latter... 

And finally, hugest thanks to everyone who trekked down to sunny Sheen yesterday for the play reading, and to Bernard and Jeremy for putting so much hard work into making it a very lovely occasion. The full house and warm welcome was greatly appreciated! 

Russians, power, electric guitars, Messiaen and polling stations

Fascinating report in today's Guardian: in Russia a music critic is going on trial for allegedly insulting a rock guitarist re alleged political affiliations. In the report we also learn that Medvedev is a Deep Purple fan and that a Bolshoi ballerina resigned earlier this year claiming she had been "used" politically... Read the whole thing here.

In other news, it's Big Thursday. Today's the day we vote on for AV in Britain - the Daily Mail is telling people to vote NO, which is a very good reason to vote YES. Werther is opening at the Royal Opera House so we can see if Villazon can still sing (I'm going on 11th). And my Messiaen play reading is at East Sheen Library this evening, conveniently in the same building as the local polling station. A Walk Through the End of Time is in one act, about 45 mins, and afterwards we'll have interval drinks and then reconvene for a discussion, assuming anyone wants to discuss anything. Do come and join us. Here's a map: http://www.richmond.gov.uk/home/community_and_living/local_maps/libraries_map.htm

After 'auditioning' a range of Youtube clips of the Messiaen itself, I've opted out of adding one here. Incredible number of different interpretations involving dance, film projected behind musicians (flying ducks?) sand pictures, short 'art' film (a dog salon? to the last movement??)... If I look at any more...well, you get the idea.

Meanwhile, back in Croydon

The other day I received two messages. The first was headed simply LONDON MOZART PLAYERS and said "I'd be grateful for your help in publicising the information attached". People Give Concert...? Oh. No. Hang on... The "information" was actually that this doughty chamber orchestra is fighting for its very existence.

While several early music ensembles lick their chops at the prospect of getting their paws on some ACE lolly at long last, the London Mozart Players is threatened with closure. Having lost all its ACE support, it faces the prospect of annihilation unless alternative sources of income can be found. It has launched an urgent campaign to this end.

Its MD Simon Funnell says this:

“This campaign is urgent and vital – if we don’t succeed it is highly likely that the board will have to take the decision to close the orchestra later this year so the stakes are very high indeed. The LMP is one of the finest chamber orchestras in the country and it is crucial that we protect this part of our heritage....

"Many arts organisations face challenging times in the coming years; thanks to the deep impact of the recession, Government cuts to the Arts Council, low interest rates and a gloomy outlook on the economy, the orchestra is facing a squeeze on every side: there are more organisations chasing smaller and smaller pots of money.

“Every time we lose a cultural institution like the LMP, we lose something of our humanity and we cannot allow this to happen. The sums of money the LMP need to survive are relatively small but vital if the orchestra is to survive. The government is calling on philanthropists and companies to do more to support the arts, and now the LMP is asking directly for that support.”

So why do I think the LMP deserves the funding that went instead into early music? Early music ensembles are not generally about keeping music on the pulse of today: they cater for an elite-within-an-elite in musical taste, one that prefers to create fantasies of sounds that may have existed centuries ago (some call it 'Taliban' syndrome...) rather than engaging in the sounds and issues of today. Not many of them make a habit of commissioning living composers to refresh audiences and musicians alike with new, living, breathing music. The LMP does. Supporting the creation of new music should be an absolute pre-requisite.

Or...could the LMP be suffering from a simple image problem: their home base? What are the chances that the yay or nay-sayers in public funding just don't bother going to the concrete compounds of Croydon to hear their completely excellent work? Hmm.

My second message was from a friend who is involved in running a small arts organisation that does rely on private donations. Here's what's happening to them:

"Twice we have been seriously let down by two philanthropists....We spent money on giving two invited superb presentations with artists in private homes, in total to about 60 people, all who loved it and were emotionally moved and promised the earth. Two in particular, both wealthy and one quite well known, offered £30,000 and £150,000 respectively.  In front of witnesses.  Neither of them have come up with a penny.  All sorts of excuses.... But I am flabbergasted and shocked and the more I tell people the more I hear it goes on. Jeremy Hunt et all better be warned.  I also heard via an email this morning that in the States one concert series that annually receives a fund of $100,000 this year got $5000 from the same person."

Philanthropy shmilanthropy.