The Surreal Art of an Urban Prankster

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Michael Tanner in The Spectator goes to Birmingham Opera Company

April 2012 | by: MICHAEL TANNER |Comments (0)

Standing room only

Of all the operatic ventures that have sprung up in England in the past 20 years, Birmingham Opera Company may well be the most remarkable. Its artistic director is Graham Vick, who is well acquainted with opera at its most elitist — he was artistic director of Glyndebourne from 1994 to 2000. BOC is at the other extreme, in that productions now regularly take place in a disused steel foundry on the outskirts of the centre of Birmingham, and the aim is to involve as many local inhabitants as possible. Over the past few years there have been impressive performances of Verdi’s Otello (it was televised, and survived the scrutiny extremely well), Idomeneo and, most movingly to me, Ulysses Comes Home, a wonderful version of Monteverdi’s greatest opera.

This year, however, BOC is breaking new ground. Not only has it scored a coup in putting on the world première of Stockhausen’s Mittwoch aus Licht (Wednesday from Light), which will be given four performances in August (it lasts six hours); but it has just staged the première of Jonathan Dove’s new opera Life is a Dream, adapted by Alasdair Middleton from the play by Calderón.

Whatever I write in critique of the work or the enterprise, it is still an outstanding achievement, though perhaps not primarily an artistic one. Having located the theatre — visitors would be well advised to go by taxi — one passes through the entrance area into a large tent-like room, where, not to my pleasure, a PE instructor who would have been more at home at Butlins in the 1950s tried to put us through our paces. Then through a narrow passage to the vast barn-like space where the opera is performed. There is no indication, at first, as to where the action will be, but stewards urge people in various directions, and depending on where you are sent you witness a funeral procession, a wedding party, a family Christmas, a birth.

The orchestra is in the centre, circularly walled in: an expert body of professionals (I take it) with the unflappable William Lacey in command. Many locals are on the move among the audience, some with pillows on their head, wearing pyjamas or a good deal less; some straining behind glass; some shouting. A woman starts singing from a high balcony, and breaks a window, while a bride and bridegroom prepare themselves elsewhere, and an imprisoned young man protests, movingly, that he is not a beast.

Lots of things happen all the time, so that wherever you are standing in the vast space something, though not necessarily the most important thing, is going on near you. The singers are a magnificent team, and enunciate with the maximum possible clarity. It isn’t their fault if they are defeated by the immense distances and the resonant acoustic of the building. The main trouble is that it is very difficult to know what is going on — which might confirm people’s prejudices about opera in general. The programme offers only a couple of cryptic sentences. So it’s a bit like being in an operatic supermarket, where you take your pick of the various simultaneous events.

I had taken the precaution of reading the play on which it is based the evening before, but that could have been more of a hindrance than a help, since I kept trying to link the play and the opera, and failing almost always. Still, on its own terms it is a lively evening. Dove’s music is, as usual, highly eclectic, and in this case more than in the other operas of his I’ve been to it seems to be reaching out to the world of the musical. There are echoes, or more, of plenty of classical composers: at one point the tremendous Paul Nilon, who plays the King trying to ensure that his son doesn’t wreak havoc, as has been foretold, is accompanied by a beautiful passage closely related to Das Lied von der Erde, and there is some Britten, the choral singing is often Stravinskian, and the huge swelling climaxes pay tribute to the Korngold of the greatmovie scores. But Bernstein is more present than any of those, and the solo singing idiom in particular is in that fluent tradition. Besides Nilon, whose lovely tenor voice seems to be ageless, there are great performances from the intimidating Keel Watson, who made such a superb Iago for BOC; from Eric Greene, as Segismondo, the captive son who is treated like a beast and so often behaves like one; and from Joseph Guyton, as the bridegroom. It is virtually miraculous that the singers, solo and choral, kept such perfect time with the orchestra, and the whole effect is far more polished than one might expect. But, given that the peregrinatory nature of the production involves many more bit players than a single-staged effort would do, couldn’t we now have a show where we can be less restive, and above all where we can sit down?

In praise of iTunes U

One of the treats of the internet is the little known, or at least talked about, is iTunes U (where U stands for university). I am currently following a course from Harvard on the Hebrew bible taught by a member of the religious studies faculty. He is at the top of his game, is clearly speaking out of a rabbinic tradition but is, first and foremost, a serious student of the subject. Apart from the 26 hours of classes there is a huge amount of downloadable and clickable extra material. The only element missing is the assessment - i.e. the exam. I cannot speak highly enough of this generous benefaction and encourage other universities to follow suit.

It is about time universities started getting back to the basic idea that they are not just economic units but also for the public good.

Easter Sunday 2012, just an ordinary Catholic parish in Leicester (really?)

Sunday morning mass at St Joseph's, Leicester is scheduled to start at 10.30. It doesn't really get going until about ten or even more minutes later. The colour of the congregation shifts from white (pink really) at 10.30 to all a much more multi hewed rainbow by the time the entrance hymn starts. Almost immediately after the incensing of the altar and the first greeting, the children are gathered on the sanctuary being sent off to their liturgy with a blessing. My sense is that no matter what number set out MORE come back. Which they do after the adults have heard the lessons and listened to the homily. The celebrant's homilies are models of crafted, scholarship digested, arresting moments, sometimes heart stopping always challenging. Then come we call the 'bidding' prayers which puts me in mind of www.paddypower.com doing the odds on the next pope. Anyway, the prayers are jewels. The final petition is always to Our Lady, sometimes she is addressed as "a Jewish woman" which, of course, she is.

The Children return with the fruits of their work - objects, music, words. On Palm Sunday they came into Elizabeth Poston's 'Jesus Christ, the apple tree'. Two Zimbabwean boys solemnly carrying a large cross with  post-it notes from the children. It can be heart stopping as the children and their teachers re-renter the children and make their way to the sanctuary. It seems as if twice as many return as set off. It can be hard to stay dry eyed as they straggle in.

The current project to build a holiday structure for some of the children at the Mother of Peace home for children with HIV in Zimbabwe is well under way. To have such a concrete link with other children in Zimbabwe is a fine way to learn that we are all part of the human race and that the human race has HIV and needs to deal with it.

The mass continues. The acolytes, male and female, are models of how they should be. We are incensed as we should be. The moment of the peace is always slightly held back by the celebrant bringing to mind a place where there is no peace, or not yet, or what we can do to bring peace: Peace be with you! The greeting between the people is not too much over the top. This is Leicester, after all!

The communion is heart stopping, as it should be. The people of God gathered around the altar table with their priest in a moment of great thanksgiving. It is solemn, human, divine, deeply deeply moving, ordered but not over ordered.

There is no rush to escape at the dismissal.  Ite, missa est. Go, the mass is ended. We go. Usually, the angelus bell is chiming as it is midday.

The music goes from strength to strength. The choir and organist are much closer to the heavens than the rest of the people of God. The combo of the grand organ and the keyboard work well. For me it would be best for the musicians to be next to the sanctuary and facing the congregation. Also if we had an animateur for music discreetly encouraging would help. My fave are the Easter bells! We knew that Jesus was risen today as we sang our hearts out. The bells are such a joy. But when are our Zimbabwean friends going to sing drum and dance the offertory again?

Music, for me, makes the liturgy alive and especially the Eucharist the great thanksgiving that it is.

Afterwards, some gather to talk, some sit, some talk to the priest, some drink coffee, some go home alone, some meet with their compatriots from their home lands to talk talk talk of course.

Just an ordinary Sunday mass in a suburban Leicester parish? Well yes, but also a glimpse of what it means to be a Catholic Christian in 2012 here in the UK. We are part of a huge family of people gathered together in our differences in the big house where the A47 crosses the Ring Road. We do not all agree on everything, in fact some of us disagree pretty strongly with other of us, but we recognise that we are more alike than we are different even if we look a bit different. We are united in human solidarity that points to the presence of the divine in our lives. That is what it is to be a Catholic Christian in St Joseph's, Leicester on Easter Sunday in the year of our Lord 2012. Thanks be to God.

Christians should wear a cross says Cardinal

The Cardinal Archbishop of Edinburgh and St Andrews feels marginalised as a Catholic Christian and urges his fellow believers to wear a cross. Oh dear, poor man. I would rather that Christians be recognised not by what they wear but by their deeds and actions. If I have to wear a badge to tell others of my beliefs then that is sad. Walk cheerfully over the world seeking that of God in every one seems to be a better injunction that to wear to a cross.

If we are to take the idea seriously then I have long argued for Christians to wear white alb type clothing, somewhat like Muslims, to point to the resurrection. It has not caught on yet.

Leaving on one side for a moment the clear commandment not to make images we are left with the question as to whether we should wear a cross (as in plain) or a crucifix (cross with dead Jesus). I have long taken the view that the cross points to the resurrection whilst the crucifix feels like the permanent Good Friday. Perhaps this is where the cardinal is in reality?

I do have one area of agreement with Cardinal O'Brien: get rid of Trident.

Maundy Thursday

Maundy derives from mandatum Latin for command as in mandate. A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another as I have loved you. Roughly translates the passage in John where Jesus is at meal before he died. The message is not so much in the words, great as they are, but in the liturgical action when the president of the eucharist washes the feet of some or all of those present. Kings of England did this until the reformation when the action got translated into money given to as many men and women as matches the age of the sovereign. Quite a lot today in York. Foot washing is rather more symbolically powerful.

NYC St Francis Xavier's the congregation wash the feet of those around them.

Leicester Bach Choir

Eve of Palm Sunday 2012 and we are in the acoustically splendid St James the Greater overlooking Victoria Park, Leicester. LBC are singing a mixed programme of mainly baroque liturgical music (plus a trumpet concerto).  Splendid evening, well sung and played, with wine.

Jennifer Clegg's written welcome was warm but I struggled to hear her verbal welcome from the pulpit. I just wanted the audience told a little more about the origins of some of the music. I know liturgy means a lot to me and that this is not so for all people. However, I think a little more would have lead to a large increase in the pleasure to be derived from the evening.

First in the running order was a Salve Regina, Hail Queen of Heaven. Liturgically, this antiphon to the BVM is sung at the end of Compline on most of the time between Trinity and Advent (the long run of green sundays). Most Catholics used to have it off by heart both in the vernacular and in the original Latin.
In monastic settings it is usually sung in the dark save for a single light/ candle illuminating a statute of Our Lady. Kind of motherly good night song for the Children of Eve.

This was followed by a Stabat Mater. This piece of medieval doggerel also has an important place in Catholic liturgy, or did once upon a time. It is the Tract Hymn at the Mass of the seven sorrows of the BVM. Those that know about these things believe it to be a fine piece of Latin. The key to understanding it  is that it is part of the devotion to the seven sorrows of the BVM. What Mary was put through for being the  mother of Jesus, therefore in Catholic belief, and of God. We are invited to empathises with Mary on her journey to her son's death.

The last piece of the concert was a Gloria. The words of this Latin hymn of praise is derived from the  Hebrew of the First Testament or from the early Christian Latin. The placing of the hymn during the mass has floated between near the start (after the penitential rite and Kyries) and after communion as a great hymn of thanksgiving for the eucharist (which is a great hymn of thanksgiving.) Either way it is a great slam of praise and thanksgiving.

Anything else? I think not. Great evening out and thanks to LBC.