For many, opera is a hard sell. Bloated, elitist, self-obsessed works with little value or relevance today. Wagner’s operas are often cited as the pinnacle of such works, and while I cannot claim they aren’t absolute behemoths, and are as such seldom staged except by major opera companies at huge expense for audience members, this is not always the case, as is proven by smaller, more intimate productions.
Orchestra VOX’s key mission to ‘make fully staged operas more accessible to the general public’ crucially works against this prevailing opinion. Their recent production of Rimsky-Korsakov’s The Golden Cockerel (directed by Johnny Dancigner and conducted by Hannah von Wiehler in the Auditorium at St John’s College) was, in all, an excellent expression of this ethos. Tickets ranged from £5-19, arguably a small price to pay for two hours of utter frivolity.
For me, part of the success of the production was the choice of opera in itself; Rimsky-Korsakov’s witty, jibing work (based on a poem by Pushkin) is as far as you can get from serious, intense, drama in the vein of say Strauss or even Mussorgsky.
The plot, then, is part of what won me over so completely.
It begins with a short prologue, in which a mysterious Astrologer (sung here with authority by Javier Gonzalez) frames the whole production as a mere fantasy, a moral tale for the audience’s entertainment.
Indeed, there was much entertainment to be had. The story proper centres around the bumbling Tsar Dodon (Chris Murphy’s characterisation was enchantingly buffoonish), who is constantly plagued by his equally hapless sons Gvidon and Afron (Archie Inns and Aastha Mohapatra really nailed the sibling rivalry, and it was refreshing to have a little gender bending in the feminised Afrona). Dodon’s servant Amelfa is an inconsolable flirt, to put it mildly (Olivia Carstairs did not hold back, and it was a joy to watch), and if that wasn’t enough, the bullish General Polkan (whose affected bloodlust was perfectly captured by Ben Watkins) constantly needs slapping down.
There’s also a good dose of magic. The Astrologer gifts the Tsar the eponymous Golden Cockerel (not just played but embodied by Antonida Kocharova, who entered flapping her golden wings, gazing quizzically, head cocked, at the audience), who ‘will be thy true watchman’. Strangely, he does not ask for anything in return, mystically stating ‘love is dear to me’.
Ultimately, Dodon becomes convinced that his country is set upon by war from the East, and declares war against the Tsaritsa of Shemakha (played by Holly Brown, whose vocal gymnastics made her an absolute scene-stealer).
At the beginning of Act II, the sons’ stupidity leads to them mistakenly killing each other in battle. Dodon thereafter goes to negotiate with the Tsaritsa, but is predictably seduced by her erotic dances, and (per her plot) proposes marriage.
After a seemingly happy wedding (though this was played with wonderful levity), the Astrologer reappears, and claims the Tsaritsa as a price for the gift of the Cockerel. Ever the violent fool, Dodon immediately kills him and is himself killed by the Cockerel, before the Astrologer returns for the epilogue and bookends the fictional tale – ‘perhaps the Queen and I were the only living people in it’. While this may read as a stereotypical, even cookie-cutter farce, the satirical elements, and in this case the performances, somehow override my scepticism yet again.
If you’re up on your early twentieth century Russian history, you’ll be noticing a few things. While Rimsky-Korsakov didn’t equate his characters with the real life Russian nobility, he still aimed the opera at the Tsarist regime, lampooning its hammering in the Russo-Japanese War…with the trappings of a fairy tale thrown in.
This, then, is one of the key successes of the production – the choice of a cheeky, digestible, subversive tale that can be enjoyed with or without knowledge of the inspiration. That being said, the production design did lean into some Soviet subtext at points; the accidental hammer and sickle at the end of Act I and the Cockerel’s Lenin-ised KFC (or here КПСС) shirt were particular favourites.
In short, decisions in the production truly unlocked the joy of the opera itself. Aside from the visual gags, I’d loathe not to mention the use of simple stage boxes as the set, and crucially the use of projection. When I saw a stage draped with thin, translucent fabric, I was, to say the least, concerned. My immediate reaction was that they could all too easily form a wall between the performers and their audience, and if anything, opera should be endeavouring to be less alienating.
My worries were, however, unfounded. The drapes became screens onto which the translated libretto was projected. A gimmick to some, maybe, but wouldn’t it have been a shame to miss out on all the bawdiness on offer? Personally, this decision didn’t hamper my enjoyment of the production one bit, but enhanced it.
Arguably, the fact that the show began and ended with a stage shrouded in gauzy fabric was even in keeping with the whole premise – as the Astrologer notes, ‘the tale’s not true, but there’s a hint in it; a lesson to you good people’.
As with the staging, another of my scepticisms proved to be unfounded. The original score for the work calls for around ninety musicians as well as a cast of singers; the production here only used twenty players. However, from the moment Hannah von Wiehler took up her baton and commanded an emphatic start, the trumpet’s clarion call, the orchestra held the room for the entire two hours. The whole ensemble played not only with dedication but with delicacy and a sense of intimacy, and this, it seems, is what finally won me over.
Experiencing the opera in a full, but modest auditorium with a small yet committed group of musicians and singers only served to enhance the production. It was as if we were all Dodon’s courtiers, laughing into our palms and shaking our heads as he took wrong turn after delightful wrong turn, remaining up close and personal with the ridiculous tale.
This production knew how to have fun – the overblown comedy, the melodrama, even the shots of ‘Tsar Dodon’s vodka’ served at the interval (at a very reasonable price, I might add). I went in as something of sceptic, but I remain all too happy to have been proven wrong.