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Top to bottom, center: Paula Murrihy as Dido, Kateryna Kasper as Belinda, and Summer Hasan as the Second Woman. Photo by Craig Mathew/LA Opera
Contrary to what some people may think, not all operas are Wagnerian in length, and some (it’s true!) clock in at about one hour. Two of the latter, similar and dissimilar at the same time, are Henry Purcell’s “Dido and Aeneas,” composed in 1688 or possibly a couple of years earlier, and Bela Bartok’s “Bluebeard’s Castle,” which dates to 1918. LA Opera is presenting both of them as a double-bill, and as conceived and directed by Barrie Kosky they are very much worth seeing.
Dido and Aeneas
As with many early operas, and I’m thinking of Jacopo Peri’s “Euridice” and essentially anything by Monteverdi, “Dido and Aeneas” has a wistful simplicity that – primarily due to its heartbreaking final scene – transcends the ages.
A quick summary: Dido, the widowed Queen of Carthage, extends her hospitality to the wandering Aeneas, late of Troy, whose adventures (in Virgil’s “Aeneid”) parallel those of Odysseus (in Homer’s “Odyssey”). In other words, Aeneas is a traveling man, and Fate has other plans for him. When he leaves Carthage, Dido is emotionally shattered and dies.
Paula Murrihy, a mezzo-soprano, is a splendid Dido (and not just vocally) who nearly carries the show. Baritone Liam Bonner is a commendable Aeneas, but countertenor John Holiday as the sorceress (with his sidekicks, First Witch G. Thomas Allen and Second Witch Darryl Taylor) pretty much steals the thunder. The somewhat stagey shenanigans of this oversized trio may seem a tad out of place, but to tell the truth “Dido and Aeneas” can be a bit of a slog if left to its bare essentials.
The scaled-down orchestra, perhaps better described as a baroque ensemble, incorporates period instruments and is conducted by Steven Sloane. The pit is raised, and quite visible: Keep this in mind. The chorus, for this is a chorus-driven work, is conducted by Grant Gershon, best known for leading the Los Angeles Master Chorale.
The action is confined to the forefront of the stage, across which we find one very long bench. Just behind it is a serrated wall, from floor to ceiling, a kind of baffle, so that there is probably less physical depth to this work than any other opera we’ve seen in the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion. However, not to jump the gun, “Bluebeard’s Castle” will open up all the space that “Dido and Aeneas” has sealed off.
To begin with, the entire singing cast, and the chorus, is seated on the bench and tightly packed. They’re outfitted in an array of costumes that fit the description of being neither here nor there, as one might expect to see in a Fellini or Greenaway film, and in a lovely soft-hued color scheme of mauve, light greys and blues, etcetera, that is, except for the witches and sorceress, dressed in black gowns, and two semi-nude mimes (so to speak) who stir in some visual flavor. Another exception would be Aeneas, who looks collegiate. Perhaps his later indecisiveness (shall I stay or shall I go?) pegs him as a modern man, circa 2014, Los Angeles.
The ending unspools quite slowly, as Dido mournfully sings her “When I’m laid in earth” aria – although soul-wrenching lament is closer to the mark. The famous line here, “Forget my fate, but remember me,” says it all. Alone on stage, Dido removes her dress, is down to her slip, and she kicks off her shoes (sure signs of vulnerability). While later opera often have dying characters singing lustily until the moment they expire, Dido is gradually reduced to sobs and whispers to the extent that audience members may feel uneasy, as if infringing upon a private, intimate moment. We may even squirm a little as if goes on and on, pinned as we are to our discomfort and witnessing such sorrow.
As the work draws to a close, one by one the musicians lay down their instruments and quietly leave. But we remain, staring into the essence of loss and loneliness. It seems a lot to ask of one’s Dido, and of the audience too. Yet Paula Murrily perseveres, worthy of praise, and – think what you will of this unorthodox finale – it’s a striking, unique bit of theater.
Bluebeard’s Castle
If “Dido and Aeneas” is something of a porcelain teacup, fragile and light (despite a somewhat severe treatment), Bela Bartok’s “Bluebeard’s Castle” has the dead weight and color of a meteorite. Like Debussy a few years before him, Bartok composed just one opera, but that’s all he needed to ensure himself a place in the operatic pantheon.
The director and the designer (Barrie Kosky and Katrin Lea Tag) have opened up and pushed back the performing space; everything is black, black, black, with only a raised, revolving turntable that gradually tilts up and gradually tilts down as the story progresses.
It is, of course, a gothic-romantic opera, a dark fairy tale that reaches up from the depths, and centers upon only two characters, bass-baritone Robert Hayward as Duke Bluebeard and mezzo-soprano Claudia Mahnke. They too are dressed in black.
The story can be simply explained, on the surface that is. Judith has gone to live with her new husband in his castle, whom she swears she loves, and yet she keeps pressing to learn more about him (something, our critical minds tell us, she should have thought about before the wedding).
Although the set is open and essentially bare (one can’t help but think of Robert Wilson and his austere minimalism), “Bluebeard’s Castle” is simultaneously a claustrophobic opera. I think it was Klosky himself who, at a press conference preceding opening night, said of this work that “It’s ‘Who’s of Afraid of Virginia Woolf’ in Hungarian.” That’s funny, but entirely apropos.
Robert Hayward as Duke Bluebeard and Claudia Mahnke as Judith. Photo by Craig Mathew/LA Opera
In the castle there are seven locked doors, and slowly, key by key and door by door, Judith persuades her husband to let her open them. Well, one contains a torture chamber, another an armory, then a treasure chamber followed by a garden. Cool stuff, when you consider that in most of our houses an opened door would lead to a washroom, a water closet or maybe a spare bedroom but not much else. Judith is dazzled, but then notices flecks of blood – on the weapons, on the gold coins, on the blooms and leaves.
Meanwhile, the orchestra is lush and lugubrious, and while there are memorable moments in the score (that loud C major chord that heralds the opening of the fifth door, for example), this isn’t “Tosca,” so you won’t be humming any arias on the way back home.
The spare setting emphasizes the psychological aspects of the opera, and we can apply whatever Jung and Freud we want to it in an attempt to understand our characters. As with “Dido and Aeneas” one could say that it’s also a work about dashed expectations,or, somewhat lightly, a reminder that curiosity killed the cat. Others may glimpse the pathological aspects. After all, the Duke has other wives sealed up, symbolically dead at the very least, which makes him a serial killer. Looked at in this way, “Bluebeard’s Castle” is one of the most unsettling operas in the repertoire. But perhaps we suspected we were in for something grim as we listened to the spoken prelude, with its Bela Lugosi-Darth Vader ominousness.
There is a dirge-like choreography, with ancillary figures who seem closer to sleepwalkers, and some visual effects better seen than described. A few splashes of color to offset the bleakness – to emphasize it, actually – might have underscored the mounting despair, but as it is this, too, is a striking interpretation of a compact, moody, and forceful work.
Both stories, each mythic in its own way, come to life gorgeously (if painfully) in this absorbing, thought-provoking production.
Dido and Aeneas and Bluebeard’s Castle are on stage at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, 135 N. Grand Ave., downtown Los Angeles in the Music Center. Performances, Wednesday, Nov. 12, at 7:30 p.m. ($17 to $245) and Saturday, Nov. 15, at 7:30 p.m. ($18 to $276). Florencia en el Amazonas, by Daniel Catán, opens Nov. 22. Call (213) 972-8001 or go to laopera.org.
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