Menotti’s short opera, The Medium (1946) is a taut little drama that delivers both comedy and tragedy - via its deft musical and dramatic structure. The production by Operantics - a philanthropic opera company supporting young singers – was highly responsive to its material.
The role of the charlatan medium, Madam Flora, is a gift for a dramatic mezzo-soprano. Its wide-ranging emotions cover deep anger, religious fervour, delirium, haunted memories, fear, and rage – and an overwhelming sense of power and control. This unlikable character is deeply human, and Menotti gives her a wide-ranging vocal palette – from declamation (almost reminding us of the Kostelnička in Janacek’s Jenufa) - through to the haunted rhythms of the lullaby she shares at the end of Act 1 with her daughter, Monica. Ruth Strutt was outstanding – and if in some ways she was a just a little too young for this haunted ancient, she made us believe in her many emotional states and outbursts. The theatrical intervention of the ghost that touches and speaks to her alone was starkly portrayed and triggered a wonderful theatrical frisson, cornering both fear and nervous laughter across the audience.
The tortured alcoholic, through her trickery and forgery, has accidently summoned a real ghost – from the crowded territory of her dark and harsh life. In her Act 2 narrative about fear, we understand that she has forged her life on a brutal sense of entitlement and brash courage: excoriated by evil but unflinching in her determination to survive and prosper, at any price. The end of Act 1 – in many ways the absolute highlight of this short work - gave us a moving portrayal of such a woman, finally overcome by the fear and tragedy that haunts her days. She recites a ghostly “Ave Maria” – to no avail. The full power of this intense finale was bedded down beautifully in this production.
The medium’s daughter, Monica (Louise Keast), also navigates a wide ranging vocal and emotional terrain. She is sweetly engaging with the mute Toby, fearful of her mother, but deeply imaginative in the seduction and operatic excess of the séance, as the truly well-trained hand maiden. She summons the dead souls with her sweet voice – and lays down a pathway of forgiveness and peace for each of the attendees at Madama Flora’s parlour. Her large voice was occasionally metallic, and her diction spread on occasions – but the blending of her voice with her mother in the lullaby, “Black Swan”, with the mute Toby on tambourine, was psychologically apt and melodically entrancing.
Her navigation of the emotional perils of an alcoholic parent was understated but palpable. She also created some touches of cruelty, learnt from her mother, no doubt, in her teasing engagement with Toby and his puppy love. She was believably a young woman dominated by her mother but capable of warm flights of independence and imagination. She launched a deep anguish when Toby is banished from the house by Madam Flora.
As the mute Toby (originally conceived as a role for a dancer), Sam Martin gave us a simple and wistful young man, cowering in the corner but also longing for happiness and the freedom of expression that his tongue cannot give me. Like Madam Flora, he seems haunted by near survival on the streets of Budapest – but also deeply fearful of the temper of the woman who adopted him into her household. His interactions with Monica were believable – child-like – but Menotti plots the emergence of love between the two young people with telepathic craft and sympathy. Poor Toby can never answer the haunting question put to him by Madam Flora – where the voice of the ghost came from - even when she horribly assaults his body, smashing his head with the telephone receiver. We, too, are horrified at the torment the ghost has unleashed within her decaying body and mind.
The three clients who attend Madam Flora’s séance were all nicely delineated in this production – but they all share a deep seated urged to believe that their pain will be assuaged by any form of contact with the dead. They sang well - separately and together – particularly in the mini trio as they confront Madam Flora and her newfound fear of the truly dead. Maria Hemphill as Mrs Gobineau had a strong clear voice and excellent diction and caught the 1950s mannerisms of the good wife with ease– while Ian Warwick as her husband was suitably stoic and solicitous. His burnished baritone was aligned with good diction. Elena Marcello as Mrs Nolan plotted her emerging belief in the supernatural with effective intensity aided by a warmly resonant voice.
The staging made effective use of the large performance space and its two levels: direction by Jane Magão. The set and costumes (Ian Warwick) were the right vintages (particularly the tailored excellence of the costuming). The set gave the right hints of the darkness and clutter that this domestic world inhabits. We are never sure whether it is night or day. The singers traversed its levels, and their exits, and entrances, with energy and dramatic intent. The shooting of Toby by the deranged Madam Flora was well choreographed, as was the irony of her mental collapse: “I’ve killed the ghost”. Actual death is the final outcome of her exploitative entanglement with people’s grief.
Phillip Eames conducted the small ensemble (stage right) with clarity and finesse drawing out the eerie soundscape that Menotti conjures with care and always connecting with and supporting his singers. The sounds of the lower strings, particularly the double bass, were chilling. Balance between orchestra and singers was excellent.
This production showcased so many excellent young performers – highlighting the depth of talent that opera in Australia has. Hopefully, the company can explore more of the 20th and 21st century repertoire of short operas and build up a portfolio of delectable offerings. This is the kind of performance that regional NSW should be able to experience.
Operantics, Independent Theatre, North Sydney, October 19, 2023
Gar Jones
The role of the charlatan medium, Madam Flora, is a gift for a dramatic mezzo-soprano. Its wide-ranging emotions cover deep anger, religious fervour, delirium, haunted memories, fear, and rage – and an overwhelming sense of power and control. This unlikable character is deeply human, and Menotti gives her a wide-ranging vocal palette – from declamation (almost reminding us of the Kostelnička in Janacek’s Jenufa) - through to the haunted rhythms of the lullaby she shares at the end of Act 1 with her daughter, Monica. Ruth Strutt was outstanding – and if in some ways she was a just a little too young for this haunted ancient, she made us believe in her many emotional states and outbursts. The theatrical intervention of the ghost that touches and speaks to her alone was starkly portrayed and triggered a wonderful theatrical frisson, cornering both fear and nervous laughter across the audience.
The tortured alcoholic, through her trickery and forgery, has accidently summoned a real ghost – from the crowded territory of her dark and harsh life. In her Act 2 narrative about fear, we understand that she has forged her life on a brutal sense of entitlement and brash courage: excoriated by evil but unflinching in her determination to survive and prosper, at any price. The end of Act 1 – in many ways the absolute highlight of this short work - gave us a moving portrayal of such a woman, finally overcome by the fear and tragedy that haunts her days. She recites a ghostly “Ave Maria” – to no avail. The full power of this intense finale was bedded down beautifully in this production.
The medium’s daughter, Monica (Louise Keast), also navigates a wide ranging vocal and emotional terrain. She is sweetly engaging with the mute Toby, fearful of her mother, but deeply imaginative in the seduction and operatic excess of the séance, as the truly well-trained hand maiden. She summons the dead souls with her sweet voice – and lays down a pathway of forgiveness and peace for each of the attendees at Madama Flora’s parlour. Her large voice was occasionally metallic, and her diction spread on occasions – but the blending of her voice with her mother in the lullaby, “Black Swan”, with the mute Toby on tambourine, was psychologically apt and melodically entrancing.
Her navigation of the emotional perils of an alcoholic parent was understated but palpable. She also created some touches of cruelty, learnt from her mother, no doubt, in her teasing engagement with Toby and his puppy love. She was believably a young woman dominated by her mother but capable of warm flights of independence and imagination. She launched a deep anguish when Toby is banished from the house by Madam Flora.
As the mute Toby (originally conceived as a role for a dancer), Sam Martin gave us a simple and wistful young man, cowering in the corner but also longing for happiness and the freedom of expression that his tongue cannot give me. Like Madam Flora, he seems haunted by near survival on the streets of Budapest – but also deeply fearful of the temper of the woman who adopted him into her household. His interactions with Monica were believable – child-like – but Menotti plots the emergence of love between the two young people with telepathic craft and sympathy. Poor Toby can never answer the haunting question put to him by Madam Flora – where the voice of the ghost came from - even when she horribly assaults his body, smashing his head with the telephone receiver. We, too, are horrified at the torment the ghost has unleashed within her decaying body and mind.
The three clients who attend Madam Flora’s séance were all nicely delineated in this production – but they all share a deep seated urged to believe that their pain will be assuaged by any form of contact with the dead. They sang well - separately and together – particularly in the mini trio as they confront Madam Flora and her newfound fear of the truly dead. Maria Hemphill as Mrs Gobineau had a strong clear voice and excellent diction and caught the 1950s mannerisms of the good wife with ease– while Ian Warwick as her husband was suitably stoic and solicitous. His burnished baritone was aligned with good diction. Elena Marcello as Mrs Nolan plotted her emerging belief in the supernatural with effective intensity aided by a warmly resonant voice.
The staging made effective use of the large performance space and its two levels: direction by Jane Magão. The set and costumes (Ian Warwick) were the right vintages (particularly the tailored excellence of the costuming). The set gave the right hints of the darkness and clutter that this domestic world inhabits. We are never sure whether it is night or day. The singers traversed its levels, and their exits, and entrances, with energy and dramatic intent. The shooting of Toby by the deranged Madam Flora was well choreographed, as was the irony of her mental collapse: “I’ve killed the ghost”. Actual death is the final outcome of her exploitative entanglement with people’s grief.
Phillip Eames conducted the small ensemble (stage right) with clarity and finesse drawing out the eerie soundscape that Menotti conjures with care and always connecting with and supporting his singers. The sounds of the lower strings, particularly the double bass, were chilling. Balance between orchestra and singers was excellent.
This production showcased so many excellent young performers – highlighting the depth of talent that opera in Australia has. Hopefully, the company can explore more of the 20th and 21st century repertoire of short operas and build up a portfolio of delectable offerings. This is the kind of performance that regional NSW should be able to experience.
Operantics, Independent Theatre, North Sydney, October 19, 2023
Gar Jones