Calixto Bieito / Reviews

Edgar and Edmund’s father, the Duke of Gloucester, mirrors Lear. He is blind to the true feelings his sons’ have for him, and therefore easy to manipulate. Old age has made him vulnerable. Playing the role was the Turkish baritone, Levent Bakirci, who, again mirroring Skovhus’ Lear, looked and sounded much younger. He made an excellent impression nonetheless. His voice possesses an interesting array of colors, which he projects well, with clear, well-focused intonation,

Maestro Diego Martin-Etxebarria dealt with all the musical and theatrical material with the ability and security of someone well seasoned and well trained in many pits. His work seemed to me meritorious and demanded a great concentration to have everything ordered and channeled.

When going to any Calixto Bieito production, you can be reasonably sure that normal rules will not apply. When going to his take on Rameau's Platée, which was a pretty off-the-wall number even in its original version as a ballet bouffon in 1745, some level of craziness was even more likely. But nothing quite prepares you for the level of high energy wackiness with which you are assaulted by Bieito and Oper Stuttgart. The fun starts about a third of the way through the overture, when a black-clad figure wanders from the front of the stage round to the railing above the podium, starts making bored gestures at the conductor, and eventually shoves him out of the way and starts enthusiastically conducting the orchestra himself... which he proceeds to do for the rest of the evening, since this is musical director Hans Christoph Bünger. In fact, the one non-wacky part of the evening is the orchestral performance, which is bright, upbeat and sweet-toned throughout. No hint of period instruments here, which provides a reminder that modern instruments can sound just as wonderful when playing Rameau's tuneful and energetic Baroque music as they can on newer material. Platée's premise is that Mercury and various others cook up a plot to reassure Juno about her husband's fidelity by staging a fake wedding between Jupiter and the ugliest nymph they can find: the unfortunate target being the swamp nymph Platée. The amount of play-within-a-play-within-a-play, cross-dressing, doubling up of parts and general opéra-bouffe antics is enough to keep you in a severe state of confusion even when in Row 4 of the audience, and I'm not even going to attempt to give details. But with the staging and singing performances, it didn't really matter. The title role is by a long way the biggest and tenor Thomas Walker gave a bravura performance. The nature of the original voice type, the French haute-contre, is debated by scholars: Walker sang in something like a normal light tenor voice, but stretching upwards into counter-tenor territory with the joins barely audible. His voice was constantly full of character, and he minced around the stage delivering his comic visual gags as if he'd been born in a Victorian music hall. The other big role is "La Folie", who is at the centre of the very long wedding feast divertissement in Act II (Platée was written for the wedding of Louis XV to the apparently rather plain Maria Theresa – the fact that Rameau not only retained his head but subsequently received a royal appointment being testament to the fact that the French royals of the day must have had a sense of humour). Lenneke Ruiten dominated the stage, resplendent in tutu, whiteface, goth eye make-up, with microphone stand and electric guitar (the original calls for a lyre), bringing the house down with a rockstar-style "Bonjouuuuuur, Stuttgart"! She also proceeded to show impeccable Baroque vocal credentials (as, in fact, she had done in the role of L'amour earlier on), sounding clear, strong and flexible. Her rock star aria "Que les plaisirs les plus aimables" was an absolute showstopper. The supporting cast was strong, with no real weak links. I'll single out Lauryna Bendžiūnaitė, with a particularly attractive bell-like voice in her small role as Platée's friend Clarine, and Cyril Auvity, splendid as the conniving Mercury and the poet Thespis (who is supposed to be composing all this as we go). It wouldn't be Bieito if there wasn't any sex on stage, preferably gay sex, and we had plenty of erotic gags ranging from the relatively discreet sight (four bare feet waggling suggestively) to the not-even-slightly-discreet (the largest strap-on penis you are ever likely to see on an operatic stage, with unspeakable things being done with feather dusters), ranging from the quite subtle down to basic toilet humour. I'm fairly neutral about the erotic content – some of it was fun, some of it a bit tedious – plus some staging gags that were merely bizarre, like the Queen Elisabeth II lookalike munching flowers during the wedding. But I really loved the production visuals. Anna Eiermann's costumes were a riot of black, white and gold. Lydia Steier's choreography was constantly entertaining.What really wowed was the staging of the divertissement that followed La Folie's "Que les plaisirs": as the music was taken down to an exquisitely played lyrical slow movement, the hundreds of light bulbs that had been high up and blue (representing Juno's rain storm) turned to a warm, golden light and were lowered to the level of the chorus, who swayed them gently as the music wrapped itself around you. It made for a rare visual and musical treat.It made for a rare visual and musical treat.It made for a rare visual and musical treat. As I close, I muse on my last three operas – the high energy madness of Platée, the tortured psychological existantialism of Szymanowski's Król Roger and the traditional Italian melodrama of La forza del destino – and I can merely marvel at sheer quality and variety of opera on offer these days. We're truly in a golden age of performance.

Bieito’s dark production was staged on an austere but effective set of wooden planks designed by Rebecca Ringst, which opened up for the storm scene. The production was acted with an intensity rarely seen on the opera stage and free of any Regietheater excesses. The division of Lear’s wealth was simply represented by the daughters grabbing their part of a loaf of bread. Goneril and Regan, the sisters from hell, were sung with devastating power by sopranos Ricarda Merbeth and Erika Sunnegårdh on May 23. Both nailed the high tessitura of their roles with exciting accuracy and penetration. The opera is “full on” for much of the evening; vocal climaxes succeed one another with harrowing regularity. The second half of the opera is more reflective, as Lear descends into madness and despair. At fifty-four, Skovhus looked and sounded as young and fit as his daughters. Innocence and reserve come less naturally to the composer’s language, but soprano Annette Dasch achieved glowing beauty as Cordelia. In an evening of remarkable performances, special mention must be made of countertenor Andrew Watts as Edgar, who sang in both chest and head register with outstanding power and stamina, and baritone Lauri Vasar as Gloucester, whose terrifying blinding was managed with consummate skill. This Lear was a big triumph for the entire team and the composer, who were greeted with enthusiasm far beyond the polite reception usually accorded late-twentieth-century works here.