Opera
Nun better
Rodney Milnes
Penderecki's The Devils of Loudun has been given eight new productions since its premiere four years ago, which is some indication of success. Whether this success will be lasting or merely cl'estime or de scandale remains to be seen. The eighth production, by Sadler's Wells Opera, is important in that this is the first major European contemporary opera to be shown here for more years than it would be tactful to recall. The subject, familiar from various treatments by Huxley, Whiting and Russell is a big one, and scarcely needs to be discussed' here. Two thoughts, however. arose: however admirable our British operatic renaissance may be, too many of its artefacts are concerned with the emotional hangups of the middle classes, and its form is too restricted to throughcomposed nineteenth-century musical treatment. The Devils, treating matters of more universal interest, is fashioned in a free and flexible form that will not win general approval from the press, though I predict that it will be a big success with the public.
-The composer has condensed the Whiting play into thirty scenes, some of them little more than a matter of seconds, while the whole work lasts barely seventy-five minutes. At first sight, little of the essential content is missing. Penderecki uses the spoken word far more than any British opera composer; there are long stretches of melodram, a device out of favour at present for reasons I fail to undetstand. It has the double advantage of keeping music drama on the move and of conveying information as clearly and quickly as possible. Use of melodram draws the accusation of incidental music, and thereby calls into discussion the definition of opera and its relationship with straight, or spoken theatre — if there is such a thing, which, on the evidence of 2,000-odd yearshistory of Western drama, I very much doubt. The fact remains that 4 The Devils is a riveting piece of music theatre that would be meaningless without the music, and that is good enough for me.
Not that there is any lack of musical interest. The use of chorus is consistently absorbing, and there is much virtuoso writing for voice, not to mention regular use of traditional operatic ensemble forms. There are big musical effects — storms, bells, amplified voices etc — and the composer's deployment of his enormous orchestra is as spare as it is imaginative. We have heard that it is a fiendishly difficult piece musically, and the greatest compliment I can pay to the conductor Nicholas Braithwaite and all responsible for the musical preparation is that it was easy to listen to, made one want to hear it again, and was executed without any sense of visible strain on the part of cast or players.
The nearest home-grown equivalent of The Devils is Maxwell Davies's Taverner, which also used historical events to illuminate universal problems. The musical content of Taverner is perhaps more substantial, but there were severe problems of theatrical pace. It was also compromised by a production that muddied the trains of thoughts and added unhelpful detail. By contrast, John Dexter's production of The Devils clarifies the text, and simplifies (where it does not omit) some stage directions to great advantage. It is spare, stark, simple, and technically brilliant. Some people are getting a bit bored with projections, but they are used here
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