AIDA - HANDA OPERA ON THE HARBOUR
AIDA - Handa Opera on Sydney Harbour, Opera Australia at Mrs Macquarie’s Point; 27 March-26 April, 2015. Photography by Prudence Upton (main) and Hamilton Lund (right). Above: Mililani Nikolic and Latonia Moore.
Gale Edwards is crazy-brave. When the director took on this Aida at short notice last year after the (male) first choices had either run for the hills, flat refused or broken out in terminal hives, there were some who thought she was crazy. However, to be a great director, a certain craziness is necessary to do the impossible, wrangle 90+ performers, work with the (invisible) conductor and orchestra, imagine the unimaginable and then pull off the kinds of coups de theatre that must live up to and not be overwhelmed by one of the world’s most overwhelming settings: Sydney harbour and its Opera House.
And make no mistake, Gale Edwards is a great director: check out the CV and you’ll find she is Australia’s most internationally successful director of theatre and opera currently alive and working. Lucky us that she defied good sense and took on Aida. If for nothing else, her political and creative acumen in dreaming up a Triumphal March to end all triumphal marches should become legend.
Fabled as one of the most spectacular scenes in all opera with music to match, Edwards could have been forgiven for thinking she was hopelessly manacled through lack of resources to deliver the monumental pageantry associated with the scene. But having intuited that Verdi was actually having a sly dig at the power politics of the day she saw the March in another light. Instead of military and nationalistic jingoism, with endless troops of broken slaves and booty, her Triumphal March is a solemn and simple procession of plain black coffins on each of which is laid a single white lily. The antithesis of the glory of war and conquest brigade.
She had some fine collaborators to bring the rest of the enterprise to fruition. First and foremost, conductor Brian Castles-Onion wrought miracles – on opening night – from a subterranean lair where he and his musicians are confined for the duration – in coordinating the onstage choir, principals and orchestra and also making fine music from Verdi’s score.
Sadly the sound reproduction wasn’t up to scratch on this occasion: nowhere near as well balanced as it has been in past years and often excruciating. It’s not an easy task – possibly one of the more difficult – but good sound has been achieved before. On this occasion it was mediocre bordering on dreadful and – according to those who abandoned the cheap seats ($78) in droves – it was only matched by the impossibility of the sight-lines. Be warned: I’m given to understand that if you’re buying seats you should make sure they’re not in the extreme side blocks.
Given the competing needs for spectacle and human scale, set and costume designer Mark Thompson has gone for colour and excess. There’s a Victorian enthusiasm for the exotic and fantasies of Orientalism as well as a swing through Ruritanian Fascism to fulfil the director’s insights on what Verdi was really writing about (politics). So, the look is Ancient Egypt for the grandees of the religious class, Mussolini-to-the-max for the regal military and Nigeria-Jamaica for Aida and her fellow Ethiopians, thus anticipating Rastafari by a century or so, with guerilla-chic signifying the tussle between cultures and nations for Amonasro and his men.
The set is dominated by a massive semi-ruined head of Nefertiti that combines serenity and menace depending on the lighting set. Cultural detritus – statuary and other bits of plunder – is stacked and propped here and there, while the traditional 40-gallon oil drum also figures large as an ironic comment, perhaps, on Egypt’s lack of the stuff or the constant need and desire to own it.
One bewildering moment comes late in the piece when hydraulics lift a kind of Victorian viewfinder frame out of the downstage while Egyptian handmaidens crouch within it. It focuses (maybe?) attention on Radames’ assault by angry countrymen, but is an immense and costly distraction that also serves to block the view of many in the audience. Weird.
Lighting designer Matt Scott conjures atmospheric magic from multiple cranes and scaffolding rigs. No globe or gel has been spared in achieving some of the most eye-catching and dramatic effects seen in this unique venue. It really is terrific work.
And then there are the singers. Two casts take the production through the month of back-to-back performances and on opening night, in the title role, the visiting American Latonia Moore demonstrated that she is one of the finest younger sopranos to set foot on an Australian stage in a long time. Her voice is rich, pure and true and the emotion she brings to the plight of the captured Ethiopian princess who falls for the man also beloved of her mistress Amneris is that of an actress who is unafraid of where it might take her. Sublime.
In the demanding and unforgiving role of the vengeful and implacable Amneris, Milijana Nikolic is a dramatic presence and a mezzo whose command of the character is total; her pairing with Moore is electrifying.
In the second tier roles, Michael Honeyman is a dynamic Amonasro, David Parkin’s high priest Ramfis is likewise high-powered and Gennadi Dubinsky as the King, Eva Kong as the High Priestess and Benjamin Rasheed as the Messenger are also fine.
Unfortunately, the same cannot be said of visiting tenor Walter Fraccaro, who replaced Roberto Aronica (he “regretfully” withdrew for “personal reasons”). As the male lead of Egyptian general Radames is also the object of affection of both Aida and Amneris and one of the most famous heroes in opera, he needs to be able to sing extremely well and be a major presence. That we cannot cast one of our own is a shame and shameful (apparently Rosario La Spina was in the opening night audience) but to import such a performer is even more so. The term journeyman comes to mind, as does charisma bypass, and when coupled with a yawning vibrato through which a truck could be driven, the production is left with an almost insurmountable obstacle at its heart.
And then there’s the audience. Is it because the show is outdoors and people think they’re at Cinema in the Domain or at a picnic? Is it because this circus-style spectacle is designed to attract a “new” audience and the ones who’re attracted are hoons? Or is it just that the mobile phone is now paramount and to hell with anything or anyone else? Whatever the reason or reasons, it was truly remarkable to look around (distracted, of course) and see how many heads were down because mobile phones and messaging were more compelling than the stage; that so many felt no compunction whatsoever in filming what was happening with those same phones; that people felt quite okay about chatting to one another; to stomp up and down the stairs as if they were at a rock gig.
Call me old fashioned but call me totally incensed at the appalling behaviour of so many well-heeled types in the Aida audience on opening night. They were piggish, thoughtless, ignorant and embarrassing – and that’s saying something for Sydney where those traits generally open high level corporate, social and political doors.
Apparently it is the accepted custom at movie previews and critics’ screenings for mobile phones to be confiscated at the door and returned only after the show. It is time for theatre companies, and Opera Australia, to do the same thing. “What about emergencies?” Don’t be ridiculous: not having your phone to text your mate is not an emergency. Life went on normally and safely before mobiles and messaging, but theatre and opera cannot. People don’t pay hundreds of dollars to be dazzled by tiny screens, distracted by vapid chit-chat and messed about by amateur filmmakers. It can be stopped – and it’s time.
Nevertheless, there is much about this Aida to like, if you can hear and see it, and Latonia Moore is high on the list. But, this – the fourth – harbour extravaganza is at a turning point both financially and artistically. Which way will triumph? We shall see.
NB: a generous patron supplied the tickets, I am still on the how-dare-you-criticise-me-take-that list.
