'Satyagraha' at the Coliseum

Philip Glass's 'Satyagraha' is on at the Coliseum with the English National Opera. I saw his 'Akhenaten' there a couple of years ago  and thought it would be interesting to see another of his works. I wasn't quite sure what I was watching a couple of years ago and that experience was repeated last week at this performance.

The production tells a version of the tale of Mahatma Ghandi's early years in South Africa, some of which I'm vaguely familiar with but not to the extent of knowing about the specific incidents we saw on that stage. I'm also, you'll be surprised to hear, I'm sure,  not familiar with Sanskrit so couldn't follow the tale by listening to the words since there were no surtitles. It all came down to the visuals, and some of those were astonishing.

Phelim McDermott's visuals left the stage bare at times and at others incredibly rich with spectacle built upon spectacle. Giant animals made out of baskets appear out of nowhere, gods on stilts battle for supremacy and random pages from a newspaper create a swirling maelstrom that Ghandi both disappears into and is created from. What on earth is this? What am I watching? The answer is that I didn't know while I watched and still don't know. I don't really want to know since I'd much rather revel in the random artistry of the piece.

The singers and chorus are dressed variously as Victorian ladies and gentlemen and this gradually changes to dhotis and saris for many of the characters as the story progresses and Ghandi rejects British modes and adopts his traditional Indian dress and traditions. It struck me as rather strange at the time, something quite challenging in it's own way since we rarely see a stage full of people dressed in what we think of as traditional Indian garb.

The music is slow and stately, swirling and repetitious with the same phrases seemingly repeated endlessly. Far from making me nod off it actually kept my attention riveted to the music, possibly simply waiting to spot the moment when it changed, perhaps? That will remain a mystery. I have to say that I don't think I could listen to it without the visuals. This is definitely one of those pieces that relies on the whole, rather than it's parts, in order to work.

Toby Spence sang Ghandi with sopranos Charlotte Beamont and Anna-Clare Monk. Karen Kamensek was the conductor (who also conducted 'Akhnaten' a couple of years ago).

While I quite like simply revealing in the experience and not wanting to try too hard to understand it, something that simply increased my frustration as the production moved forward was the continuous slow pace of every movement. How on earth can someone physically move so slowly across a stage for just under three hours? Even the memory of it makes me feel frustrated and need to move with increasing speed.  I can only give the performers kudos for sustaining it but, c'mon people, have some regard for it might make the audience feel!

I wonder what the next Glass production might bring?

'Tosca' by the English National Opera at the Coliseum

I'm not a great fan of opera. I've seen a few in recent years and the only one that's come close to making me 'get it' was 'La Traviata' at the Royal Opera House earlier this year. That involved me emotionally as well as having sumptuous sets and fantastic singing. Since then I've realised that I can potentially like opera, I just need to be careful which ones I choose to see until I have the magic revelation and I fall in love. I haven't seen any operas since 'La Traviata' until Friday evening when I went to see 'Tosca' at the Coliseum, home of the English National Opera (that sings everything in English).

A man enters a church furtively to find the key his sister has hidden that will let him hide in a small chapel before an artist enters to continue to paint a fresco on the wall. The subject is the furtive man's sister as a madonna. The artist's lover visits him and gets jealous over the blond hair and blue eyed subject but the artist reassures her that it is her he loves and her flashing dark eyes. They arrange to meet later that night. The artist is Mario Cavaradossi and the singer is Floria Tosca, our central characters.

When she leaves the furtive man emerges and it turns out he's a former consul of Rome and has just escaped from prison with the help of his sister. The artist is a supporter and swears to help him escape Rome. They hear police at the door of the church and make good their escape and that's when we meet Baron Scarpia, the chief of police (who I renamed Shitface for his evil nature). Baron Shitface wants to arrest and hang both the former consul and Caravadossi as traitors and he sets his agents to follow Tosca to find them.

Find them he does, through cruel torture of Caravadossi while poor Tosca has to listen to his cries. To save her lover she tells Shitface where the consul is hiding but he wants more. He's already told us that he wants Tosca - not to woo her gently as a lover, but to conquer her, to take her as he pleases and use her for his own enjoyment. To save her love she reluctantly agrees and demands a guarantee of free passage out of the city state of Rome. As Shitface starts to ravish her she stabs him in the heart and proclaims that a woman has killed the monster that all of Rome fears.

The scene moves to Castel Sant'Angelo, the prison where Cavaradossi is to be executed, and she assures him that the police will feign shooting him and he must lie still until she says he can move, then they will escape from Rome. But, of course, Shitface was lying and they shoot him anyway. As brave Tosca mourns her beloved the police appear having discovered Shitface's body and move to arrest her. No, they won't have her, and she throws herself off the battlements of the castle to follow her beloved in death.

This is a magnificent opera of love and passion and Tosca emerges victorious in defeating her enemy and depriving his minions of revenge. Puccini's music is marvellous and the story is told so simply and effectively translated into English by Edmund Tracey. Grand, swelling music one moment, quieting the next as the story progresses. It's such a simple story told so effectively and movingly.

My Tosca was Keri Alkema and Cavaradossi was Gwyn Hughes Jones. Shitface was Craig Colclough and he was righteously booed during the bows at the end. Serves you right! They all played their parts to perfection - especially the dangerous and menacing Shitface - believing the acting and rejoicing in the singing. I guessed that Shitface would lie about saving Cavaradossi but I didn't guess the tragic ending of Tosca throwing herself from the battlement. Such a brave and triumphant hero!

Thank you ENO and Keri for opening my eyes to another opera and introducing me to another hero. Thank you to Catherine Malfitano, director of the original production, and to Donna Stirrup, the revival director. Such a well crafted production with simple sets and lighting that helped focus attention on the story and the protagonists. I loved it!