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Showing posts with label Putin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Putin. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 06, 2026

Aida boxed?

 

 

   

Dozens of Ukrainians protest in front of the Liceu for the presence of Anna Netrebko at the inaugural 'Aida' 

Dozens of Ukrainians protest in front of the Liceu for the presence of Anna Netrebko at the inaugural 'Aida'. ARA

I could hear the Liceu before I saw the doors.  This was not music permeating from the inside, but a demonstration outside.  A group of protesters were (loudly) making their views know about the Liceu’s choice of Russian singer to take the lead in their production of Aida.

     Anna Netrebko is alleged to be fairly closely aligned with Putin, and although she has made various statements about the present situation, those protesters felt that neither she, nor the Liceu had taken strong enough action to show their rejection of the on-going conflict in Ukraine, and also of the accused war criminal and murderer Putin, in his continuation of the war.

     I did speak to one of the protesters and expressed my sympathy for his position but also said that I would be going inside and be a part of the audience.  I said that I would speak to a manager to make my attitude clear, but I felt that I was acting with the cost of my seat in mind, and not with the prompting of my conscience.

     I suppose the trouble is that all of we ‘right thinking’ people have made our positions clear: we do not support Putin in his invasion and his war, and we want to see the conflict resolved as soon as possible.  But, apart from expressing opinions, what have we actually done?

     I did speak to a member of the management, who said I should speak to Public Relations and that somebody would be available at the end of the show.  And that was enough to enable me to enter the theatre, having done (that word really should be in inverted commas) more than most, merely by voicing something to somebody!  Not much, but more than nothing.

     As I sit in the front row of the audience, I get an unobstructed view of the orchestra and as Aida is one of the grand Grand Operas, it was encouraging to observe a very full pit and know that there would also be on-stage and off-stage musicians swelling the sound.

     The Prelude was brilliantly played by an on-form orchestra conducted by Antonello Manacorda, and the curtain rose to reveal the set designed by Christian Schmidt: a gigantic white revolving box which slowly rotated, showing static tableaux of various figures.  The box had different sides and opened out during the performance and had projection shown on it, but the basic stage form for this ‘grand’ opera was fundamentally stripped-back tedious.

     The Egyptian and Ethiopian setting of the piece was both referenced and ignored.  We were invited to view the spectacle through a twentieth century perspective with soldiers dressed in unforms and fatigues, but were also presented with priests who wore costumes that suggested Christian Orthodox or Coptic influences, while the Priestesses suggested something Islamic.  The waving of a large black flag at one climactic point in the production and the singing of praises to the Egyptian goddess Isis also made me think that it was a reference to ISIS!

     I have no objection to updating a classic piece of operatic repertoire, but I like to have a certain coherence in the directorial viewpoint, and Shirin Neshat did not give me that in her presentation of events.

     What conflicts were we supposed to be following?  The violence on stage and on film was neither engaging in a narrative sense nor gripping in theatrical terms.  There was a confusion between the literal and the figurative and we were left wondering what was real and what was metaphorical in theatrical terms.

     This confusion was shown best in the final scene of the opera when Radames and Aida are locked in a claustrophobic tomb – which was presented in a large open space carved into the cube and Aida’s presence was ‘revealed’ by the opening of a circle of unexplained black veiled figures, who, after the reunion made their way off stage via two convenient doors.  Why didn’t Radames and Aida follow them? 

     But this was just one instance when the logic of the stage was not followed.  In the scene with Radames being revealed as a traitor there were enough characters on stage (and at hand) easily to stop the escape of Aida and Amonasro, and to capture them.

     Ritual and stagecraft, reality and convention constantly clash in this vision of Aida, but not productively.  The scene changes were done behind the curtain and the exposed apron strip was occupied by a procession of characters from soldiers, through priests to what appeared to be corpses – in the performance I saw the latter got a slow handclap form some members of the audience and scattered boos as by that point in the opera we had all become irritated by the self-indulgence of the director.  The conductor had to turn around and give a stern look into the darkness to quell the mutiny!

     But the music was excellent.  The playing of the flute solo at the beginning of Act III the prelude to the Nile scene was superb; the six on stage fanfare trumpeters was electric, and the wall of sound that came at the most triumphant moments was almost overwhelming.  Indeed, I did feel that at times the balance between an enthusiastic orchestra and gutsy singers was a little too much in favour of the instrumentalists rather than the soloists, but overall, it was an exceptional music performance, conducted with precision and a close attention to detail by Manacorda.

     Netrebko commanded the role of Aida, though I thought her quasi-balletic movements were more stylized than they needed to be, given the apparent realism of the depictions of conflict, but she was confident in all registers, and her extended high notes were breathtaking.

     Ivan Gyngazov as Radames was a more than equal partner to Netrebko, as was Artur Rucinski as her father Amonasro.

     Ekaterina Semenchuk as Amneris was excellent, though her voice is not entirely one I feel comfortable with as it has a harsher element in it to my ear.

     Moises Marin as the Messenger made the most of his set piece with a voice that had power, lyricism and depth.

     I felt that George Andguladze as the King was slightly under-sung, but he had some stiff competition on stage!

     The Chorus was excellent, but they were not asked to do very much in theatrical terms, and were more static than necessary, unless that was part of the ‘idea’ in some way.

     This was an excellent musical performance inside an indifferent production, where the inherent difficulties and contradictions in an ill thought-out or perhaps over-thought producer’s vision detracted from making this a truly satisfying evening.

 

Tuesday, July 17, 2018

Give him the bloody tape, for God's sake!


Resultado de imagen de trump baby blimp

It is not just the uncanny physical resemblance that makes the Trump Baby Blimp so compelling, not even the tiny hand clutching a mobile phone, no, it is the nappy.



Nappies are needed when you are incontinent and, by the lord, Trump is nothing if not that.  Admittedly we need to take the incontinence as a metaphor as we are also assured that Trump is a germophobe - though considering the walking, breathing louses with which he surrounds himself that designation should be taken with a pinch of salt - or insecticide.



His form of incontinence is as though he has recently read Macbeth (fond hope!) and taken to heart one of the eponymous hero’s thoughts (I use the word ‘hero’ because Trump likes dictatorial murderers)

            “The very firstlings of my heart shall be

            The firstlings of my hand.” (IV.i.153)

No sooner does the Orange Monster think of something than his twitching fingers seek out those fatally attractive buttons and the world is made privy to his inchoate meanderings.



I do not wish to labour the link to a deluded, misanthropic, paranoid, unfeeling psychopath as I feel that Macbeth would be insulted by the comparison and would further state that when he betrayed his best friend he did have the good grace to give a very public display of guilt and continue to suffer from that betrayal until his death.  Trump, on the other hand, has such a towering ego that he even out-knives that ruthless political practitioner from my youth: Mac the Knife aka Harold Macmillan, Conservative prime minister from 1957-1963, characterised by one of the better  Private Eye front covers:


Resultado de imagen de private eye front cover macmillan stabbed in the back




Trump in his relatively short time in power has been indiscriminate in his scattergun attempts to blast his many, many enemies.  At least Macmillan’s targets were ‘reputable’ figures of some social and political standing (well, they were Conservatives so. . . ) whereas Trump is so much more of a bully than he is ruthless and is prepared to take on all comers be they great or small or very, very small.



Anyway, ‘incontinent’ is the key word for Trump and it certainly describes how he procedes, and his ‘approach’ to his high office has come to some sort of crunch point with his fawning, lickspittle visit to Helsinki.



Actually, I am not 100% convinced that the generally accepted view that the Kremlin has kompromat on Trump is totally correct.  Trump knows that if there is a tape somewhere of him pissing on prostitutes or watching them pissing on each other, it’s not going to do him any real harm.  Well, as long as he doesnt care about his reputation, which is now so deflated that even all the hot air bluster from one of his acutely embarrassing rallies will not reinflate it.  As a proven liar, racist, homophobe, sexist, mob-friendly, unfeeling, family-buster etc etc etc monster, a little episode of Golden Showers will only add to the mystique of convention-bending horror that has characterised his presidency.



But say there is a tape or some form of clear evidence that he has behaved in a (for previous presidents at least) disgraceful way, and say further that that evidence is held in the bloody assassin’s hands of Dictator Putin, surely, even the repressive Murderer by Nerve Agent must be getting just a little embarrassed by Trump’s belly-up please scratch me approach.

Resultado de imagen de trump blowing a kiss to putin



Consider the unfolding disaster that was Trump’s visit to Europe.  By the time he arrived in Helsinki he had questioned the existence of NATO and roundly insulted virtually all the members of that organization; he treated the EU with contempt and actually called it a ‘foe’ of the United States; he insulted his host country of Britain, undermining the Prime Minister while actively talking-up the reputation of the Blond Buffoon; he insulted the Mayor of London with slurs and lies and stated that there were many demonstrations in his favour.



How much does Trump have to do before his Russian Masters are satisfied.  They are not quite as childish as he and they must be choking on the embarras de richesses that the so-called president is giving them: it’s rapidly becoming something out of the mind of Marx - and I don’t mean the one buried in Highgate.



I suppose that Fox and Friends could spin it so that the clear absurdity of the craven position of what used to be the office of the most powerful person in the world towards the 11th or 12th ranked country in terms of GDP, could be seen as a clever and ironic joke, the patent ridiculousness of Trump’s position inviting laughter at the way that the Russians simply lapped it all up!  Unfortunately Trump has no sense of irony as that would indicate a subtelty of which his wrecking ball metality is clearly incapable.

Resultado de imagen de trump on a wrecking ball



So, with NATO, the EU, the UK, traditional alliances - all in chaos, what else does Putin want his lumbering poodle to do?  What else can he do?  Unless Trump starts bombing Europe - but Putin would not want that as the radioactive clouds would blow towards the homeland.



It is at times like these that I think back to the doomsday scenario that accompanied the 1964 Republican election campaign of Barry Goldwater for President - you see, I can put a capital letter there on the title of the office because, compared with Trump, Goldwater was a thoughtful statesman - that we in Britain shuddered about as we contemplated such a political wrecker getting anywhere near the nuclear triggers.   
Resultado de imagen de goldwater as monster


The ghost of Goldwater must be howling in whatever section of hell is reserved for unregenerate Republicans as he sees a Republican president lauding a Russian murderer above the security and intelligence services of the United States!



Some people on both sides of the political divide are using the term ‘traitor’ to describe what Trump is doing and has already done.  I am tempted to bring the term to Britain as well and suggest that what is going on as far as Brexit is concerned has much more to do with personal and political power and its retention than anything to do with the state of the nation.



God help us all!



I shall now, in an updated version of Candide’s actions, go and cultivate my sun tan!
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