Not long ago, I coincidentally found myself in the company of some internationally renowned music critics. During various discussions, a certain comment about opera production caught my attention. One of the critics said that whenever going to see an opera, he expected the producer to tell him something new about the piece. They all seemed to agree. I personally think that such an expectation highly overrates the ability of your average producer. But more importantly, it made me realise that when I go to a show, what I want first and foremost is to be entertained. Confused, I started examining my superficial approach to opera.
What he said was significant, and at the same time very disturbing. Not only does it pose a lot of questions about the scope and function of music criticism. It also reveals who runs the show and helps to explain the current state of the operatic world. In the present state of affairs, what is the function of a music critic: is it simply to report on musical life, to judge or to give an informed opinion? Is music journalism, whether critical in its approach or not, an independent form of literature to be enjoyed over coffee, or does it really relate to what goes on in concert halls and theatres? I guess it is all of these things. Personally, I do not have anything against well written, intelligent commentary on music or art. I might have issues with the omnipotent critic whose irrevocable judgement can dictate the fate of a show or a work – but surely such things don’t really happen outside Broadway.
Hans Keller, in his book Criticism, which deals with the perils of writing about music in an intelligent way, says that honest criticism requires a clear definition of the author’s prejudices. Of course, objective criticism does not exist; it's just not natural. Any critique will tell me more about the critic than the work in question. Unfortunately, the prejudices (the ideology, the power games, the idiosyncrasies) do not tend to be spelled out at the beginning of an article or of a review. One thing is obvious to me: writers on music basically have to write. Now, it is a known fact that it is more rewarding to write about opera than about a concert. There is more scope: there are costumes, sets and production. It is also quite obvious how an intelligent critic might prefer to comment on the intellectual journey of the producer rather than report on a performance with nothing unusual, where the costumes were lovely, the set traditional, and the singers stood and delivered. But therein lies the danger: in today’s media-oriented world, opera houses need their coverage, for marketing and prestige. Therefore, if the press wants intellectual engagement, opera houses will give it to them. Enter the contemporary producer - a Calixto Bieito, who certainly gets a considerable amount of press coverage, and hey presto, the profile of the house is enhanced. Well, not necessarily, as in the case of ENO… but they are doing the Bieito Don Giovanni again, and their publicity leaflet can certainly rely on controversial press coverage. And please note: this is the Bieito Don Giovanni (with music by Mozart). So we have McVicar’s Magic Flute, Miller’s Cosi, Lloyd’s Ring and so on.
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The dialogue that matters in the theatre becomes not the one between the performers and the audience, but the one between the producer and the music critic, who wants to be told something new. I think there are numerous problems with this. First of all, the expectations of ‘originality’, such a retro postmodernist attitude, which by now should be blissfully out of fashion, encourages your average producer to resort to anything, whether it has any relation to the work in question or not, in order to say ‘something new’. Secondly, this shows an unforgivably patronising attitude towards the audience who buys the tickets and goes to the theatre to be entertained often in a much less intellectual way. Finally, it is a gross misunderstanding of the nature of opera, not an intellectual high-brow art by any means, but rather a humane and passionate form of artistic expression whose subjects are the constants of human behaviour, feeling and emotion.
Opera is an incredibly powerful form of entertainment, but I believe that to intellectualize it is to pervert its nature. I think opera is at its most powerful when the composer is trusted, and when the work is not tampered with. Then, if there are real performers who can hold the stillness of emotions and convey them to the audience, what you get is much more powerful than anything else under the sun. It is really a recreation of Greek tragedy, it is mimesis, it is catharsis, it is a form of entertainment that goes beyond the surface, penetrating under the skin and inside one’s soul to move, remove and cleanse. It is healing entertainment, whether light hearted or tragic. I do not need a producer to tell me something new about a piece which is obviously, even without his intervention, a masterpiece. I want him to create the situation where the librettist, the composer and the performers can speak at the peak of their powers - and the magic can happen. And if it is done with intelligence and, at some level, a certain degree of intellectual engagement, it’s even better.
I remember a question asked at a large conference: why do people go to the same opera over and over again? Quite sadly, none of the participants came up with an answer. Personally, I don’t think we go to see the same work over and over again to experience new perspectives or interpretations. I believe that we go because within the familiar boundaries of a well-loved work we feel safe enough to open ourselves emotionally, to be moved and to experience deeply, feelings and emotions we are otherwise afraid to face. As a consequence we are healed in some psycho-magical way. I do not think I have ever read this kind of comment in a review. Music criticism as we know it today developed in the nineteenth century, and sometimes I fear it is still using the same categories of aesthetic judgement attributed to that era... Maybe it is time to bring it up to date.
Petra Torre
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