The Love of Three Oranges
This Prokofiev opera is an oddity: an oddly hummable 20th century surrealist fairy tale. Well and good. And Opera Australia’s recent production of it was adequate, but hardly exciting: somewhere along the line someone made the decision that this production should emphasise its very staginess: and I think this is where the production went wrong. In a production of good singing of largely unfamiliar music, the viewer wants something to really become involved with: wants to be seduced. But the staginess of this production only brought to the fore the slightly odd dramaturgical construction of the libretto, and the good but unremarkable performances of the cast.
The effect of this staginess (for instance, as the chorus are explicating the hypochondria of the prince, our hero, they are running up and down ladders to see to an gigantic plastic inflatable humanoid… the tackiness doesn’t work: I don’t really think a fairy tale is a piece to be camping up. And if you think a fairy tale is the perfect vehicle for camping up, then perhaps you’ll at least allow me to assert—not this fairy tale. It is already so odd a tale that what it needs is to be taken utterly seriously. Besides, as Sontag points out, the best camp is that which wasn’t intended as camp) is that it alienates the audience. No seduction, no real satisfaction—just a mild interest. It is not a production that offends, but neither does it enrapture.
The most successful moments were when the dancers were working—particularly when they appeared as a pack of cards, performing a game between the two supernatural beings in the story, the representatives of good and…mischievous. As these dancers “shuffled” the deck, it was a moment of glorious absorption. There were too few of these moments.
A few years ago Opera Australia put on a beautiful production of Debussy’s “Pelleas and Melisande” that was almost transcendental. I’m still waiting for another serious and beautiful production of a modern opera to appear at the State Theatre.
The effect of this staginess (for instance, as the chorus are explicating the hypochondria of the prince, our hero, they are running up and down ladders to see to an gigantic plastic inflatable humanoid… the tackiness doesn’t work: I don’t really think a fairy tale is a piece to be camping up. And if you think a fairy tale is the perfect vehicle for camping up, then perhaps you’ll at least allow me to assert—not this fairy tale. It is already so odd a tale that what it needs is to be taken utterly seriously. Besides, as Sontag points out, the best camp is that which wasn’t intended as camp) is that it alienates the audience. No seduction, no real satisfaction—just a mild interest. It is not a production that offends, but neither does it enrapture.
The most successful moments were when the dancers were working—particularly when they appeared as a pack of cards, performing a game between the two supernatural beings in the story, the representatives of good and…mischievous. As these dancers “shuffled” the deck, it was a moment of glorious absorption. There were too few of these moments.
A few years ago Opera Australia put on a beautiful production of Debussy’s “Pelleas and Melisande” that was almost transcendental. I’m still waiting for another serious and beautiful production of a modern opera to appear at the State Theatre.
posted by Kate Middleton at 12:27 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home