Danny talks to us about his recent visit to the opera:

I went to see Bartok’s ‘Duke Bluebeard’s Castle’ and Stravinsky’s ‘The Rite of Spring’ with the English National Opera at the London Coliseum yesterday evening. I must admit, I really enjoy going to a performance, regardless of how bad the production is. Many critics write reviews urging you to leave during the interval, whereas I, a man who leads a sedentary life in front of computers in my music production studio and only has time to listen to music on Spotify and watch films from my weekly charity shop scavenge, absolutely loves the excitement of going out for a change. So, today I shall write a different kind of review. The kind that says: ‘go out and enjoy yourselves, the performance may stink, but what about all the joy and comedy you may get from overhearing others talk in the interval!”

Bartok’s opera is a beautiful and haunting work with a fascinating reworking of the old folk/fairy tale of Bluebeard by Bartok’s friend, the poet Balazs. Unlike the original 1697 tale of a wife-murdering nobleman, the many later adaptations, including the opera, transforms the traditional ‘overcoming the monster’ plot, to the psychological ‘loving the monster’ variation. The performance at the London Coliseum was sensitive and subtle – so quiet at times, that the coughing symphony of the audience began to take over for a while. As the tale evolves around only two singers, one location and complex psychological subtexts, there are few climatic outbursts. Despite this, I overheard a woman saying: ‘sometimes I can’t hear the words they are saying!’. I couldn’t help laugh a little, as the enormous display above the stage clearly informs us of the text, and what’s more, it couldn’t be more obvious. If you didn’t get the line “Kiss me Judith” or “Don’t open the door Judith” for the tenth time, then the music and action should also help if you’re a bit receptive.

I’ve always been intrigued by the type of people who attend these kind of performances. Apart from the usual, grinning, floppy haired enthusiasts and tipsy old gents you may bump into in the interval, there were a few interesting characters who caught my eye. A young man beside me in the back row was using his Macbook to arrange a score on the software Sibelius, an old man was sleeping in front of me and his wife was utterly embarrassed, too afraid to wake him should he cry out upon awaking, and a lady behind me, perhaps the one who couldn’t hear the words, uttered grunts of disgrace as the performers in the ‘Rite of Spring’ were literally raping the earth in dog masks with their trousers down. When it came to the part when men were swinging their genitals to the rhythm of the tribal staccato of the string section, I listened carefully in anticipation for the lady’s reaction behind me, but she was dead silent, and left me only to my imagination as to what her expression looked like.

I wish not to say any negative or positive points of the performance. See it for yourself. I only encourage you to enjoy going out to be part of the event. I often find it hard to be critical at times, when I know I’ve seen or heard some of the best performances in the world. After hearing Pierre Boulez conduct the Rite of Spring, I found it hard to appreciate the music in the same way, much like eating fresh tomatoes in Sicily and then returning to my local supermarket at home. After being bemused by the many visual interpretations of Stravinsky’s masterwork, I must admit that the Walt Disney version, depicting the birth and death of prehistoric, primitive life in the animation Fantasia, is the most satisfactory.

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