A staging of a pair of rare one-act operas, and by Martinů to boot? It could only be the Guildhall School of Music and Drama living up to its reputation for dusting off fantastic little gems. This double bill of Ariane and Alexandre bis is steeped in the surrealism and absurdism of 20th-century Paris; both were premiered posthumously and neither has ever managed to gain any foothold in the popular repertoire. The conditions of a conservatoire are the only feasible place where these sort of works can be revived; the intimacy of a smaller theatre, young singer-actors who are willing to ham it up a little, and a non-cost based ethos are ideal for the genre’s unique demands.
Ariane is Martinů’s take on the Theseus and Ariadne myth. At the point of composition in 1958, Martinů was working on his last great work, The Greek Passion – he wrote Ariane in a mere month or so as a distraction, but it didn’t premiere until 1961. Deeply enthused by Maria Callas while composing the work, with (unrealistic) hopes that she might take on the title role, the writing for Ariane is clearly influenced by her voice and musical interests. Director Rodula Gaitanou updated the piece to the Salle Wagram Ballroom in 1960s Paris, and staged it as a recording, with microphones, sound adjustments, the hustle and bustle of the studio. As a kind of metaoperatic concept, it worked well; there was plenty of dynamism from all members of the cast, in its recreation of a Callas era studio it captured Martinů’s desire for her interest in the work whilst circumventing certain surrealist staging challenges about identity. As a period piece, Gaitanou’s eye for detail was superb, ably capturing the fashions and decor of the time. Martinů’s little twist to the myth is that the Minotaur is physically identical to Theseus, a happy love-struck version of himself who challenges the other Theseus to kill him. Having done this, Theseus returns to Athens, leaving Ariane to lament on love and passion.
Theseus was sung by baritone Josep-Ramon Olivé, who ‘in recording’ gave a noble account of the role, generally restrained in demeanour except in occasional moments of extreme passion. His voice has a roundness and muscularity that makes it a powerful instrument – he rose easily above the orchestra, but I was impressed by the sensitive text-based approach that he adopted in his singing. Nicola Said’s Ariane was technically capable; the role demands great flexibility and ease at the top of the voice which Said generally met with aplomb, but her voice was often at best underprojected, and at worst, simply too small. To capitalise on what could be a good coloratura instrument, this needs attention. Her lament was sung movingly and there were some really striking diminuendi that were used to great dramatic effect.