Babur in London is the latest production from pioneering opera company The Opera Group, and it provided a thought-provoking evening. A collaborative venture between British-born composer Edward Rushton and New Delhi-based librettist Jeet Thayil, the new work has already toured Switzerland, and arrived in London following dates in Basingstoke, Oxford, Leeds and Birmingham. It tells the story of four young terrorists who are plotting to carry out jihad, when their plans are interrupted by the magical appearance of Babur, the first Mughal Emperor from the 16th century. An iconic and contradictory figure in Indian cultural history, Babur (portrayed charismatically by Omar Ebrahim) is famous for both his bloodthirsty regime and his literary prowess: he is widely acknowledged to have written the first ever autobiography. The introduction of the ghostly dictator into the lives of the four young extremists not only inflames the tensions between them, but is also an unlikely – and welcome – source of comic relief throughout the opera’s exploration of the dark themes of suicide and religious fanaticism.
The production, directed by John Fulljames, begins atmospherically: young Muslim extremist Saira (played with conviction by the rich-voiced Annie Gill) explains that she regularly goes to the river edge to observe the intoxicated figure of Babur in the misty morning. She is accompanied by co-plotter Faiz (baritone Damian Thantrey, who gave a strong and controlled performance), whose unease, initial scepticism and anguished love for Saira is instantly palpable. The action takes place before an oppressive wall of empty plastic bottles, with Sarah Beaton’s striking design conjuring up the paraphernalia of liquid bomb-making as well as evoking urban decay: a great contrast to the opulent world of Babur, clothed in magnificent golden robes and intermittently smoking an opium pipe.
The cast of this production was flawless, both dramatically and vocally. From his first entrance, Ebrahim instantly connected with the audience, conveying the mercurial, almost child-like mood-swings of the Emperor whilst still exuding exotic authority. Mo, played by powerful tenor Amar Muchhala, bristled with the abrasive certainty and fire of an angry young fanatic, while shimmering soprano Kishani Jayasinghe played his wife, Nafisa. Jayasinghe’s solo “dust” arias were particularly effective, with the simple unravelling of her headscarf conveying her descent into a kind of voluptuous madness. Thayil’s vivid poetical exploration of mortality and Rushton’s poised vocal writing conjured up her character’s complex feelings of nostalgia, regret, and mourning. Fulljames’ direction imbued the longer “background-narrative” solos of each character with a captivating mixture of generous storytelling and pensive introspection.