For his last edition of the Holland Festival, director Pierre Audi commissioned a new opera by Dutch composer Martijn Padding, Laika, a co-production with Dutch National Opera. The popular talk show host Robbert gets fed up with his empty glamour world and decides to join cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin and his dog Laika in outer space. The libretto was written by novelist P.F. Thomése, visual artist Aernout Mik catered for the staging. The new production created a huge anticipatory buzz, the three artists being dubbed an absolute dream team. Yet, in spite of the combined efforts of Asko|Schönberg, VocaalLab, eight singers and conductor Etienne Siebens, the première in the Amsterdam Stadsschouwburg proved to be a deception.
Laika opens very promising, with the audience seated around a rotating stage, surrounded by huge video screens. The projections zoom in on one of the characters, then focus on the entire scene or the audience itself, at other moments showing the conductor or one of the persons in pre-recorded images out of sync with the live performance. The message is clear: modern woman/ man only truly exists when she or he is visible publicly, be it on social media, television or YouTube: self-branding has become top priority.
No wonder TV producer Trix Dominatrix (the wonderful soprano Claron McFadden) is very upset to learn that the ratings of Robbert’s talk show have dropped dramatically. She receives this message just before a new show starts and Robbert (immaculately performed by baritone Thomas Oliemans), who has up to then been lying silently on the floor, enters the studio. To her dismay, Robbert declaims existential doubts about himself, the show and the high expectations of his audience. He moans in vulnerable falsetto that he’s lost himself, switching abruptly to his lower register when he boasts his irresistible sex-appeal.
Delicate, undulating strings, a melancholy horn and lingering notes from a detuned electric guitar make place for jolly popular music when the show starts and Robbert puts on his public face. Thus Padding musically illustrates how strongly his hero is torn between the longing for his private, inner self and the character he pretends to be in the public eye. In continuous competition with TV chef Ricardo (the hilariously funny tenor Marcel Beekman) he emits randy yells, and indeed both make-up artist Grimelda (a somewhat shrill Marieke Steenhoek) and Trix vie for his favours.
In the next scene Robbert’s mother (the moving contralto Helena Rasker) calls her son to order: he’s become a stranger to her, and she longs back for the boy who once reached for the stars and planets. During her complaint, an immense square contraption is lowered from the ceiling, on which again projections are shown. It also functions as Robbert’s private room, where he strives to realize his childhood dreams. From inside the cubicle he contacts Yuri Gagarin (the bass Dennis Wilgenhof) and his dog Laika (girl soprano Leonie Meijer), who invite him to join them in outer space, where “even the future becomes memory”. All’s well that ends well, one would think, yet hereafter follow two more acts - mere repetitions of the first half, and boredom inevitably set in.