Already a subscriber? Log in
Osud is so extremely bizarre that it’s both a good thing and almost a tragedy that its music is consistently so wonderful. It is characteristic of the composer from the opening bar onwards, streaming and jagged string lyricism accompanied by pounding timpani and alternating with ebullient brass. It’s almost possible to take it as ‘abstract’, and in view of the unrewarding complexities of the plot very tempting to. As usual with him, the states of mind of the characters and their relationships are weird, but for every prosaic incident on stage he seems to be ever more stimulated to transfiguring music in the pit, while the characters semi-declaim and indulge in strange repetitions. If one weren’t feeling sympathetic to the composer in the first place, Osud might be a strong if relatively brief provocation to acute irritation.
Fortunately, the music was in the safe hands of Simone Young, with the orchestra of the State Opera (largely constituted of the Vienna Philharmonic) sounding more untamed than they sometimes have in their Janacek recordings. And the casting was ideal, Jorma Silvasti as the composer Zivny who is having severe problems on both the artistic and personal fronts, his beloved Mila played by Cornelia Salje, and the apparently immortal Anja Silja as Mila’s mother, an amazing performance, though as always with this artist a piece of perfect teamwork — it’s just that as soon as she appears on the stage, even, later on, as a corpse, it is hard to concentrate on anyone else. Pountney had the action taking place on a particularly restless revolve, but that both imparted a sense of the harassed, tumultuous nature of the drama and clarified it as far as possible — the staging is by Stefanos Lazaridis.
After the interval Le Villi, an opera ballo and Puccini’s first stage work. It’s not much good, but it would have made a far more favourable impression if it hadn’t been sent up by the producer Karoline Gruber and the designer John Engels, who were booed savagely by the discerning audience. This tale of rural domesticity and then the willis of the title, undead women haunting their unfaithful lovers, inhabits the same kind of world as Der Freisch
Also in Arts Reviews
Also by Michael Tanner
Latest
Comments
Join the debate for just $5 for 3 months
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for $5.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just $5 for 3 monthsAlready a subscriber? Log in