Hilaire, non? Jonathan Biggins on Orpheus in the Underworld and Political Satire

One of the downsides of being a political satirist, as I aspire to be, is that you do actually have to take an interest in politics. Given the increasingly dire level of political debate and analysis in this country, it's an aspect of the job that grows more depressing by the day. Consequently, it's always a relief to turn the creative hand to something a little more light-hearted, as in the chance to direct for Opera Australia a re-worked revival of Offenbach’s Orpheus in the Underworld, a satire of French political and social values in the mid-nineteenth century. Hilaire, non?

Jonathan Biggins as John Styx in the 2003
production of Orpheus in the Underworld.

Cast your mind back to Paris in the 1850's, surely you remember it. The ruling class, having risen inexorably above the egalite and fraternite of the revolution, lived in a world of refined privilege and moral piety while the lower classes pursued a life of louche abandon in bohemia, decried by the pillars of social respectability. Naturally, said pillars couldn't get enough louche abandon and with the hypocrisy that has been the hallmark of human behaviour since we first stood upright, they got down and dirty with the demi-monde for most of the week and then scrubbed themselves clean for church on Sunday.

Offenbach and his librettists chose to satirise these double standards by taking creative licence with the Orpheus myth, giving us a pantheon of seemingly upright Olympian gods who were secretly itching to get down to Hades where all the real action was going down, if it was technically possible to go any further down than the underworld. The mortals stuck in between on earth, equally venal and self-centred, were firmly under the thumb of Public Opinion, a guardian of public morality that makes the Jensens look like entertainment directors on a gay cruise. Mix them all up and you got a fair reflection of the self-delusion and moral pretensions that passed for the social code of the day. Or, thanks to the unalterable certainty of human nature, the social code of any day.

Being operetta and the mid-nineteenth century, such a satire didn't have to be gritty and cutting-edge, or deal with issues of a non-French speaking background as the current critical class demand for satirical commentary that speaks to today’s youth. No, Offenbach could approach from a place of beauty and vivacity, of delightful melodies and pastoral ballets, giving the world along the way the immortal gift of the galop infernal, otherwise known as the can-can. That’s about as cutting edge as he got. Even so, his vision of social dystopia caused quite a stir in its day, but while the French bourgeoisie might have been shocked, modern audiences are more easily outraged by the price of the carpark. Still, we recognise the mortals of the tale as us, or at least people we know: hypocritical, protective of their reputations and willing tenants of the moral high ground – Orpheus’s one candid moment of genuine delight at finding his wife gone from his life is quickly quashed by the weight of public opinion; the Arcadians prove as adept at damage control and media relations as any contemporary figure caught in the spotlight.

This production was originally conceived by director Ignatius Jones and designer Mark Thompson, who presented an anachronistic vision of ancient Thebes, where satellite dishes sit atop corinthian-columned houses and a building viewed through the corn fields looks suspiciously like the Sydney Town Hall. The gods live in chilled minimalist splendour up on Mount Olympus while Pluto’s domain is rich reds and polished black, like a bomb’s gone off in a French Empire antique shop. There may be little guilt in this particular hell but there’s no shortage of gilt.

Phil Scott and I wrote a new libretto and as our schoolboy French wasn’t quite up to translating the original, we read the many and various adaptations that have kept Orpheus up there as one of the most performed operettas of all time. We remained true to the spirit, if not the letter, of the original; I don’t think Christopher Pyne was mentioned in the 1853 version. Operetta is often seen as the poor relation in the opera world, a lightweight repertoire that’s sometimes dismissed by singers as being too easy and slight. I think the reverse is true; it is in fact the most difficult genre of all as the performers need to be able to sing operatically, dance, act and be funny. In English. Offenbach would be thrilled to know we’re still trying – and I’m sure he’d enjoy the royalties.

Mud patches, blood spatters and secret tiaras

Afternoon tea with OA’s Head of Art

One of the most fascinating parts of Sydney’s Opera Centre is its Art Department, hidden away at the end of a steep staircase leading to a rooftop section overlooking Wardrobe. Under the supervision of Steven Vella, who became OA’s Head of Art in 2011, amazing things are created here.

Surrounded by boxes with labels such as “broken fans and spare bits”, “real diamond jewellery” and “secret tiaras”, the softly-spoken Vella strikes a relaxed figure in paint-spattered black shorts and a singlet that reveal a strong, athletic body. “It’s a creative and physically demanding job,” he says.

Having trained as an art finisher on Priscilla the Musical, at OA Vella dyes fabric before it’s cut, and adds finishing touches to costumes after Wardrobe has made them. In practical terms this means that he and his team “break down” garments to make them look older as the evening progresses, airbrush finished garments to give them a slimming effect, create blood spatters on night gowns, paint gunshot wounds on jackets, concoct mud patches that don’t come out in the wash, and make jewellery, buckles, belts, tiaras, gun holsters, daggers and harnesses.

When breaking down costumes, Vella uses sprays, paints and sandpaper to make them look anything from slightly worn to almost destroyed. Fabric may also be shredded or burnt and sometimes, as in Lucia di Lammermoor, costumes require spattering with fake blood. Broken down costumes still have to be able to be washed regularly.

Vella’s first year at OA involved working on all the big new productions, of which Bohème, one of this summer’s major successes at the Sydney Opera House, was among the biggest. Costumes for the street people required a high level of attention. Vella says: “It took three of us weeks to spray and airbrush and grate the costumes, and since they consist of layers, often you’d work on a skirt, overskirt, apron, blouse, scarf, shawl and head piece that are all part of the same outfit.” The prostitutes’ costumes required ageing and the rich people’s outfits, some fading around the shoulders.

As for the principals: Rodolfo wears the same costume in three different stages of breakdown. “He starts off with a little bit of paint and spatter on his costume, and by the final scene his clothes are covered in paint.”

Bartlett Sher’s South Pacific, back by popular demand in September this year, was another huge show for Art. “The native people all required grass coats and tribal jewellery. And when Emile returns after being lost and found, his suit has to look shabby.”

Art collaborates with several other departments. Last year in Gale Edwards’ Salome production, for example, Vella worked closely with Millinery on Herodias’ snake headdress. “[Milliner] Rebecca Willis made the form of the snake and I made the head and put them together, then sent the piece back to her for finishing touches.” 

Similarly, Julie Taymor’s Magic Flute production required extensive collaboration, this time with Props. Papagena and Papageno wore corsets made of nylon rod that had to be moulded by heat, then covered in leather and hand-painted. Vella says: “The costumes were like cages shaped to their bodies and opening on stage with the help of hinges. Props made the hinges and we glued them to the cages. It took weeks.”

Although Vella clearly loves his job, he says it can be nerve-wracking. “When something that you’ve never done before comes up, like the masks in Ballo, and you have to complete them on time and within budgetary constraints, things can get tense.” There’s also the unpredictability of the theatre world. “You’d think you’ve finished something and then it goes off to rehearsal and under the lighting it looks too bright and so, you have to change it. And you’re already under pressure to meet the next deadline.”

Vella, who holds a Fine Arts degree and a dress design certificate, is known for his wall pieces created from organic found objects assembled in unusual ways. When he joined the opera just over a year ago, he continued working on his own art after hours, and in 2012 he exhibited with 35 other artists at Newtown’s Lennox Street Studios, plus on his own at the Penrith Regional Gallery. He also recently completed a commission for six pieces in the reception area of a 5-star hotel. But after a year upstairs at Art, he’s put his other career on hold. “It’s too much to be creative all day, then go home and be creative some more. I want to be able to give the opera job my full attention.” 

‘Delicious but tricky’ - Fyfe on performing Verdi’s Falstaff

For you, Falstaff represents one of many career highlights with Opera Australia. Would you say that it’s your biggest role to date?

It’s difficult to compare roles that come from different types of repertoire. Singing Rigoletto is as herculean as singing gets (for this baritone anyway), but Dr Schön in Berg’s Lulu was far more difficult than any other role that I’ve performed, notwithstanding the fact that Mandryka in Strauss’ Arabella was extremely complex musically, longer than Dr Schön, and in the same league as Rigoletto for elephantine vocal weight. So it’s very hard to nominate a biggest role in my career. Safer just to say that Falstaff is one of my biggest roles for Opera Australia.

What are the challenges of the role?

There are a few exposed notes which are delicious but tricky, and they must be perfect. How one overcomes such a challenge? It’s like the old joke about how one gets to Carnegie Hall: Practise! Dramatically the role is like a jewel box of exquisite moments and details, and the challenge is to give each the greatest chance of registering with the maximum degree of lusciousness.

There are some physical matters to consider: I’m neither a spring chicken nor sylph-like, but Falstaff is considerably older than me and his obesity is of another order of magnitude. I have to be conscious of these things and compensate for them.

Fyfe trying on his fat suit
in Falstaff rehearsals.
Photo courtesy of Jacqui Dark.

What were the best parts of preparing the role?

I’ve enjoyed finding those aspects of my own character and personality which, when amplified, coincide with aspects of Falstaff’s. Finding such parallels fuels the creative process wonderfully. I’ve enjoyed playing with the different colours in the music and discovering as many warm sounds as I can. And naturally it’s a joy watching great actors’ interpretations of the role. The Falstaff which looms largest in my mind is Orson Welles’ in Chimes at Midnight.

 What do you enjoy about working with Simon Phillips?

Like Neil Armfield, Simon Phillips is a guarantee of a quality production. He’s a genial, boyishly humorous presence in the room, but also very serious-minded. When I go to New Zealand I sometimes rehearse at the drama college where he trained. On the walls are group photos of graduands for each year going back to the college’s establishment. Simon is in one of the photos, that huge smile unmistakeable and completely unchanged.

Warwick Fyfe as Pooh-Bah
in The Mikado

Conductor Antony Walker is a singer himself. What is it like working with a conductor who has  keen insight into the challenges that singers face?

It saves having to go into explanations regarding things which non-singers – even seasoned musicians – tend not to understand.

You spent many years as a member of Opera Australia’s ensemble, and often acted as cover for other singers. What are some of the lessons that you learned during your years as an “ensemble” singer?

My time as an ensemble singer toughened me up and engendered in me certain pragmatism when it comes to balancing diverse commitments. Having said that, I am obsessive, and this fuels a perfectionism that makes me a somewhat tortured singer. For instance, if a tiny bit of dried mucous on my cords (something to which I’m prone) causes an imperfection on a high note – which may not even be audible from the stalls – I will be inconsolable and the performance in question (though I never allow the rest of my work on such a night to be affected) will be all but wrecked from the point of view of my own enjoyment. This may sound precious, but in the heat of the moment, that’s how it feels. After the show it’s important to focus on the fact that life does not depend on these things: we do this job because we want to share the beauty and genius of these sublime works of art, but nobody is going to die if my top note has some gunk on it.

Fyfe as Dr Bartolo in
The Marriage of Figaro

What have been some of your hairiest moments as a cover?

I suppose going on as Mandryka in Arabella was a bit mad because the Company had sent me back to Sydney (Arabella was on in Melbourne at the time), and I was not on stand-by. When Peter Coleman-Wright realised that he couldn’t sing, I was practising Pizarro, not exactly light repertoire. The call came at 1.30pm: “Where are you?” I was asked. When I replied that I was at home in Sydney, the next words to come down the line were “Oh shit!” I was soon on a plane; arrived at the hotel and without any pause went to the theatre, where make-up was applied. Then there was the small matter of performing one of the most sadistically difficult roles in the repertoire.

In what ways has your voice developed in the past few years?

In 2007 I had a polyp off one of my cords, which almost ended my career. But it was successfully removed, which gave me back high notes. With greater technical facility I’m better able to “float” the voice in my upper range as well as change gears, sometimes mid-phrase or even mid-note, between softer singing and a more stentorian tone. Also: I performed Dr Schön in 2003, The Flying Dutchman in 2004 and Rigoletto in 2006, so that heavy roles are easier for me now – or should I say less difficult!

Warwick Fyfe performs the title role in Falstaff at Sydney Opera House from 15 February - 16 March. Click here for more information and tickets.

When opportunity knocks…jump right in

Ask Opera Australia’s new assistant chorus master, Thomas Johnson, how he would describe his first two weeks at the national company, and he bursts out laughing. “Very full on!” he says. And upon reflection: “Full on but amazing.”

Johnson began his full-time OA career in Melbourne, where he rehearsed extra chorus members for the Company’s Lucia run last Spring. A week later he was in Sydney, where he added three more operas – Madama Butterfly, A Masked Ball and Il Trovatore – to his repertoire.

If he’d done things the conventional way, he’d be at Uni completing the final semester of a music degree. But for Johnson, making music was always more important than acquiring certificates that said you were able to make music.

Having started piano lessons at the age of five, after his parents had bought a converted pianola from a furniture store for $200, his first exposure to show biz came in high school, when the teacher who was playing for the school musical fell ill and Johnson was pulled from class to sight-read the piano score. “From then on I was the rehearsal pianist for musicals at our school,” he says, with a grin.

Some years later at Uni, when invited to play piano for the Oz Opera La traviata tour, he jumped at the opportunity even though he was halfway through his degree. Uni, where he’d been accompanying singers in their lessons and coaching sessions every week, had provided excellent experience for the Oz Opera adventure. He says: “I never dreamed of being a concert pianist; that solitary, difficult life does not appeal to me. I enjoy the sociability of working with singers and in an opera company.”

The Oz Opera tour, “the hot tour to all the beautiful tropical places”, enabled Johnson to spend three months on the road gaining invaluable experience. At the end of it, having forged close friendships with several orchestra members who all lived in Melbourne, he decided to move to the Victorian capital and take his chances there. When Oz Opera Director Sandra Willis invited him to be music director for Schools Company, everything fell into place.

Preparing and touring with the company’s Magic Flute production was another great learning experience. “Kids have such honest reactions to opera,” Johnson says. “They let you know if they’re enjoying it…and they let you know if they’re not enjoying it too!”

Five weeks after the end of that tour, and back at Uni, he saw the ad for the position of assistant chorus master on OA’s website. He didn’t think he had a chance of getting it – “I’ve played a lot, but not professionally” – but applied anyway, and was invited for an audition.

He remembers standing in front of the Opera Australia chorus, feeling very nervous. Ten days earlier he’d been given a section to prepare. “[Chorus master] Michael Black took the rehearsal and I played piano for the first half hour, then it was my turn. To be in a smallish room with 42 professional singers singing at the top of their lungs…that was an amazing experience.”

Chorus masters are among the most multi-skilled professionals in an opera company, and it goes without saying that they are expected to be accomplished pianists with outstanding sight-reading skills. They also have to be able to learn large amounts of music quickly, and have a basic knowledge of Italian, German and French. And it helps to have a smattering of Russian and Czech.

But the really important thing, Johnson says, is the ability to follow the conductor and singers’ mental processes and respond to them. “You have to be able to absorb a lot of detail through observing people, but with experience you get used to it.”

As part of his preparation for Lucia, he listened to four different recordings of the opera. The most important thing he learned from exposure to such variety was that tempi vary widely from conductor to conductor. “During the audition, we were rehearsing a fast section in 3/4 time. Then Michael gave me a quick glance and said, ‘We’re jumping to one beat per bar.’ You have to be able to go with that kind of change straightaway.”

For a new member of music staff, the first year at an opera company is a huge learning curve – by November this year Johnson will have worked on 19 different operas. “I feel very privileged to have a job where I get paid for absorbing this amount of music,” he says. “But it’s a good thing I love opera!”

How much time does he spend preparing? “Pretty much as much time as I have.” 

As a result of his appointment with OA, Johnson has had to defer his studies again. “I’ve completed all the practical modules and I want to finish the rest, but for now, it’s all opera.”

He’s not too concerned. “I’m not much of a planner; things have always fallen into place.”

The Operative Word with Natalie Aroyan

Why do you do the job that you do? I enjoyed singing from a very young age. Through it I could express myself and be whoever I wanted to be. Singing is not just a job, it’s my home.

Who has influenced you most professionally? My teachers’ and coaches’ guidance, knowledge and encouragement have moulded me into the artist I am today.

Is there any other profession that you would have liked to have followed? I would have loved to have been an archaeologist; I’m fascinated by ancient Egyptian history and love exploration and adventure.

What is your idea of perfect happiness? A world where people respect each other’s views, trouble no one about their race or religion and go about their own business, appreciative and grateful for the wonderful blessings around us.

If you could have dinner with a historical figure, who would it be?

Abraham Lincoln – his calm and softly spoken demeanour fascinates me. His devotion to equality and economic advancement during the Civil War, despite his humble beginnings, is very inspiring.

What is your greatest extravagance? I would have to say make-up.

One thing you regret is… I avoid using the word regret as much as I can. I believe everything happens for a reason. All my experiences made me the person I am today. And as the saying goes, “If it doesn’t kill you, it’ll make you stronger”.

If you could have any opera character as a friend, who would it be, and why? Marcello from La bohème. He is a painter and I love visiting art galleries; it would be nice to have him as a companion. For a man, he’s also a good listener.

Who or what is the love of your life? Singing. At this point in my life everything revolves around my singing – my career, extra-curricular activities and social life. When I sing I feel free.

What are you optimistic about? I’ve worked very hard for many years and I have achieved my goals thus far. I am optimistic and very excited about what the future holds.

You would like to devote more time to…Painting and sketching, which I used to do while growing up. I still have a lot of canvases and utensils at home. Hopefully, one day I will become inspired to use them again.

What is your favourite food? I can eat Sushi every day.

What is your most treasured possession? My grandmother’s pearls, an heirloom passed down to my mother who then passed them on to me.

Which is the opera that got you hooked? La bohème. The first time I saw it was at New York’s Met. The staging, the singing and the whole event was such an emotional experience. It was the first time I cried in an opera. It was then that I decided that I wanted to be part of opera.

Which opera do you never need to hear again? I haven’t seen all the operas in the world yet, so I can’t say that I’m tired of a particular one.

If there’s one quote that really speaks to you it’s…“To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.” ― Ralph Waldo Emerson

What is your idea of misery? Losing a loved one. I understand that death is part of life but at this point I cannot begin to imagine what it would be like to lose a family member. 

You still hope to…Settle down and have a family of my own. It’s not a requirement and with a career like this, it’s probably going to be a challenge, but it would be nice to have someone very special to come home to with a few little people running around.

Which characteristics do you most admire in others? Sense of humour, honesty and courage. (In men, pecs optional).

You feel guilty when you think about… Eating carbs… but I eat them anyway.

What type of holiday do you most enjoy? Exotic summer location with a great view of the beach, luxurious accommodation and doing absolutely nothing.

Who is your favourite band? I’m a little out of touch with the band scene, but I used to listen to Boys II Men and The Beach Boys.

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? My bank balance.

You spend too much money on…My niece, whom I adore, and Superman merchandise. Collecting all things Superman was a big part of my childhood and I just never grew out of it, as much as I try to deny it.

Your greatest achievement has been… Every competition I’ve won and opportunities I’ve been given have been a blessing. I’ve poured my heart and soul into every single one. I’m very proud of everything I have achieved.

The book everyone loved but you could not finish was…Fifty Shades of Grey. Honestly, I bought it because everyone was talking about it. Maybe one day I’ll get to the end of it.

What is your favourite kitchen appliance? Definitely the juicer.

How do you stay up to date with new technology and trends? With the help of my brother, who is my tech adviser.

Who is your favourite heartthrob? Hmm … It has changed many times over the years, from Edward Furlong to Mark-Paul Gosselaar, John Stamos and Brad Pitt. I think my current heartthrob may have to be Henry Cavill (who is playing Superman in the upcoming 2013 movie... coincidence?).

Natalie Aroyan is performing the role of Mimì in La bohème, showing at Sydney Opera House until 23 March 2013. Click here for more information and tickets.

Sailing the stormy Cs

Sailing the stormy Cs

Enrico Caruso once said that all it takes for a successful performance of Verdi’s Il Trovatore, is the four greatest singers in the world. He was exaggerating a little, but it’s true that casting Trovatore – a powerhouse of instantly recognisable tunes, heart-rending arias and rousing chorus pieces – has long made artistic directors scratch their heads. Opera Australia’s current production, which led to a world-wide search for four big Verdi voices capable of performing in perfect harmony, is no exception.

Trovatore’s casting issues stem from the extraordinary demands of Verdi’s score. All his tenors effectively live in the upper registers of their voices, but the role of Manrico presents the added complication of requiring lyrical as well as weighty dramatic singing. Similarly, the ‘Verdi baritone’, which the composer called the ‘mezzo tenore’, sings in his upper register all night, which is exhausting, and even more so when combined with the jagged lines and inflected syllables in which Trovatore’s angry Count di Luna expresses himself.     

The role of Azucena calls for a low, deep mezzo – a rarity – yet Verdi also writes high notes for her. Very few mezzo-sopranos command such a wide range. And in Leonora, Verdi created a role that demands a soprano capable of carrying off the drama of her early scenes, then float the high notes in her final, lyrical aria.

OA Associate Music Director Anthony Legge sums up the dilemma of casting these roles when he says: “You need four excellent, experienced singers who can walk on stage and just do it. Because the singing is very exposed – you can’t bluff a top note.”

To add to the challenge, the cast has to be vocally balanced and visually credible: a short tenor romantically linked to a very tall soprano, for example, will detract from the drama, and if one voice is significantly bigger than the others, the ensembles that are Verdi’s trademark, will jar. For experienced opera audiences, Legge points out, Trovatore offers unusual and delightful voice combinations: “The biggest sings of the night are the duets between the mezzo and the tenor, which is completely unheard of because usually the tenor sings with the soprano.” 

Given all these demands, and given that very few tenors can sing the high Cs in “Di quella pira”, most opera houses looking to cast Trovatore would find their tenor first. In Arnold Rawls, “the king of the high Cs”, Opera Australia found a tenor who could not only perform the role, but perform the famous aria in its original key. “Most tenors transpose it – you think they’re singing a top C at the end, but they’re not because no tenor can afford the risk of that note going wrong. Hearing the aria performed in its original key – live – is pretty rare,” Legge says.

Of course, for the audience it’s great fun when the tenor hits those stirring high notes, which is why OA Artistic Director Lyndon Terracini, who was present when Rawls made his Manrico debut at New York’s Metropolitan Opera a couple of years ago, knew that he wanted the singer for OA’s production. “He had the high Cs as well as the dramatic qualities demanded by the role, and we were very lucky that he was available because tenors who can sing this repertoire are often booked years in advance,” he says.

Speaking to Allerta! on the morning after opening night, Rawls carefully weighs up his words when describing what makes the role of Manrico so demanding. “It’s high, it’s long and it’s loud,” he finally says. “And dramatically it’s very challenging – Manrico is hero, lover and son, and for the character to come to life, you have to play all these angles convincingly.”

With the tenor in place, for most opera companies the next step would be to find a baritone capable of performing the role of Count di Luna, considered one of the most difficult in the repertoire. In operatic terms Michael Honeyman is young for the role, yet when he came to audition for OA, Terracini knew that he could do it. “He has a big, fat baritone voice with high notes, which is exactly what you need to sing Di Luna.”

But an opera company that has found its tenor and baritone, still has to cast Trovatore’s pivotal role: that of Azucena, whose quest for revenge fuels the plot. Unearthing a singer with the stamina to perform this massive role, the solemnity to sustain the drama, and the vocal range to sing Verdi’s score, is an almost impossible task. Yet in this case OA did not have to look far – the perfect voice for the role was right here in Australia. Terracini says:  “Milijana Nikolic’s voice has recently taken on a new gravitas, and in Azucena she gives the performance of her life.”

Daria Masiero, beloved by OA audiences after her 2012 performances as Liù in Turandot, self-selected as Trovatore’s fourth principal. Her soprano voice is capable of carrying off the drama of her first scenes as well as the lyricism of her final aria.  “It’s gorgeous to hear and watch her sing those beautiful arias,” Terracini says.

Less gorgeous are the demands that Trovatore makes on its poor conductor, who has to hold together four big Verdi voices performing some of the most challenging music in the repertoire. Legge says: “This is a piece in which the conductor can’t insist on anything; the music is so tough on the singers, the conductor really just has to follow the way they sing it.”

Sounds like fun.