SYDNEY FESTIVAL – OEDIPUS REX & SYMPHONY OF PSALMS
Oedipus Rex & Symphony of Psalms, Concert Hall, Sydney Opera House; January 28-30, 2010
HE CAME, he spoke, he conquered. Like a Holy Roller old time preacher, Peter Sellars is mesmerizing. A Pied Piper whose Hamelin is his next artistic project. It’s a presence worth having – whatever he’s up to. He was inspiring as the closing speaker in the Keynote Address on Hope and, in this instance it was his work in what was tagged a “rarely-performed double bill of Stravinsky masterworks”, being Oedipus Rex and Symphony of Psalms.
It was an extravagant concoction: semi-staged in a somewhat reconfigured Concert Hall, with the Sydney Symphony Orchestra augmented from the bass end plus 120 members of the Sydney Philharmonia Choirs, men and women. The soloists were equally wondrously augmented: Yvonne Kenny at her regal and vocal best in purple gown and dreadlocks; American visitor Rodrick Dixon equally magnificent as her ill-fated son-husband. Two more Americans – all three from the LA production – Ryan McKinny (Creon and Tiresias) and Daniel Montenegro (shepherd) rounded out the singing roles with the unexpected and riveting presence of actor Paula Arundell as Antigone and the Narrator; and dancer Elma Kris as Ismene.
Musically, however, the production was powered by the conductor, Portuguese rising star Joana Carneiro, whose passionately physical performance and shining, flying dark hair were electrifying reminders of Simone Young. She was part of the huge ensemble and quite magnificent. Chorus director Brett Weymark played a vital role too because the choirs sang the difficult music from memory: scattered about the auditorium, they were too busy keeping up with the sign language and remembering their moves to carry scores!
Placed high above the orchestra on a palatial battlement-walkway-stage, the visual focus of the carved, sculptural African thrones (created by Ethiopian artist Elias Sime), set a tone that placed the action as contradictorily as originally chosen by Cocteau and Stravinsky. So that, as well as the Russian’s music for the Frenchman’s text of the Greek tragedy (in Latin translation), the sense of timelessness and timeliness in the appearance of the singers and their setting was logical and pleasing.
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I have to admit to tiring of the endless hand language from the choir, but that was fixed by closed eyes and allowing the music and voices to totally take over. The choir was also stuck with an assortment of variously green shirts, t-shirts and blouses that were surely rejected by Vinnies, but which were apparently supposed to depict renewal and regrowth. Um, no, not really, but never mind.
Some were not keen on the pairing of the two works as the blind Oedipus is led across the stage by Ismene, like a symbolic link between the two. The appositeness of the music at that point did it for me, however, and it was profoundly moving; the fresh meaning or intent being clear and terrible. All in all, the Pied Piper had this rat totally in his thrall. If he blew his pipe in my ear I’d follow him anywhere.
