A triumph in miniature: Bluebeard's Castle at Opera Australia

Whoever were the judges of the competition in 1911 that rejected Bluebeard's Castle on the grounds that it lacked sufficient action to qualify as an opera clearly failed to appreciate the score. For the combination of Béla Balázs' sparse words and Béla Bartók's passionately dramatic music make this hour of psychological discovery between two virtual strangers more intense than three hours of voluptuous Verdi. Given a year in which Opera Australia is playing ultra-safe with productions of La traviata, Tosca, The Merry Widow and Great Opera Hits – followed almost certainly by a musical – a new local production of Bluebeard might be seen as heroic. Sadly, this triumph gets only four performances.

And so many debuts. As far as I can tell, neither Aussie Daniel Sumegi as Bluebeard nor Romanian Carmen Topciu as Judit have sung these roles before; and directors Andy Morton and Priscilla Jackman have never led main-stage opera productions in the Sydney Opera House before. In the absence of a designer, the experienced John Rayment commanded the visible side of things with serried ranks of spotlights that illuminated (or darkened) the action, which was set on mobile staircases and packing cases.

It was very much about questions. Bluebeard begins the drama unsure as to why the confident Judit has chosen to leave her family for him and his psychologically responsive castle. After insisting it was for love, she then seeks to undermine his controlling efforts with questions about the castle and its reflection of his persona. She's physical initially – he resists. Later she denies his kisses and is raped as his Kingdom is revealed behind the fifth of seven locked doors.

Was this assault insufficiently reflected in Bartók's music? Arguably. But it was probably an essential precursor to the directors' decision to craft an ending in which Bluebeard's three former wives emerged from the seventh door, hooded and cowed, to combine with Judit in a murderous revenge on their tormentor; leaving Bluebeard to murmur “Darkness” as his eyes closed. Certainly not Balázs' ending, but a century has passed since that was plotted... and that too was quite different to the original in Charles Perrault's 17th-century folktale.

The two singers played their 21st-century roles to near-perfection. Topciu, who has often been reviewed on Bachtrack as the “standout performer” in a lesser role, seized her chances in the spotlight with a whiskeyed marmalade voice that was never daunted by Bartók's rich score, in a characterisation of dramatic cogency. With and against her, Sumegi's dark chocolate bass-baritone shone like bronze in this gloomy setting, though, perhaps his characterisation was marginally less secure. He debuts as Wotan later this year in the OA's new Ring cycle.

Interestingly, maestro Andrea Molino is credited as orchestra arranger as well as conductor. The Italian who seems to be brought in for the OA's more outré work (The Nose, Wozzeck and King Roger, for example), has reduced the score to cater for the company's diminished pit orchestra. But there was little lost in its impact on the repeated “blood” motif from the strings, the big C major “reveal” as Bluebeard's kingdom is unveiled, the loneliest sound for the lake of tears behind the sixth door, and did I spot a love motif repeated with a strident pang for Judit's insistent responses?