Barbican Concert Hall, 26 May
What exactly is Philip Glass’s first opera; is it a ballet with singing, an opera with dance, an art house play with both? Well, it’s all of these, yes, but really it’s in a category all of its own too; in the way that no-one who was there quite knew what to make of Waiting for Godot: a new existential art-form was born. Think also of the vitriol that accompanied Berlioz wherever he went, of the riot that accompanied The Rites of Spring; music almost against its will was being nudged in a new direction. At the Barbican for only nine nights, for the first time in Europe since 1976 and in this country ever, the production I saw on May 4th was all-but the same show that premiered 36 years ago in Avignon (and lost all concerned a small fortune).
The opera itself is, how to say, unusual. Four and a half hours with no interval, with no discernable arias, simplistic plot and no clear narrative; but it is hypnotic, entrancing, enveloping, sucking you into a different world that repeats and almost repeats again and again. In structure it is four acts with five intermezzos or ‘knee plays’. The two central motifs throughout are time – passing or not, looking forward and back; and numbers in any sequence, random, Fibonacci, ascending and descending.
It’s clear that Glass’s 1960s associations with Ravi Shankar and his ragas, some of which can go on for a solid day, are strong inspirations. Themes come and go, come and go, are invented and reinvented, disappear and an hour later reappear again. It is as much an intellectual exercise as aesthetic.
There are clear strong resonances, if not premonitions of Koyaanisquatsi with the low, slow sepulchral organ, of CIVIL warS with the voice over as though from the news.
The singing itself, this being an opera, was pretty much always ensemble with usually a half dozen voices the norm. Largo al factotem is often quoted as the by-word/guide against which to measure speed, technique and clarity. Frequently this, with six voice together (not just one), with many many words per minute in perfect syncronicity, was the match. The dancers too must have supreme stamina, dancing vigorously for up to 20 minutes to a choreography of Lucinda Childs
It’s fair to say that at four and a half hours its long, a good editor could have taken this down to three with ease. To quote Glass though, less is not more, more is more, that’s why its called ‘more’. Parts of the staging are certainly self indulgent, not least a single bar of light rotating, taking a full 20 minutes to do so with no other visual elements at all. The human brain likes linear stories and this one has almost none. Whilst the music was often fast some parts of the staging were snail like, perhaps to avoid repetition, perhaps just because that is what director Robert Wilson wanted. Michael Reisman conducted, as he has for every single performance, ever!
I found the absurdity of it all strange, entrancing and exhilarating; its fair to say some won’t have. CM