Going Wilde: cast members of an operatic production of The Importance Of Being Earnest. Photograph: Royal Opera House / Stephen Cummiskey
Subversive wit? A satire of Victorian morality, with a distinctly homoerotic undertone? If you haven’t guessed it I might add the name ‘Bunbury’ or, better still, the immortal line: “A handbag?”
Yes, it’s The Importance of Being Earnest, Oscar Wilde’s genius farce, which this month comes to the Barbican in an operatic refashioning that promises to be inventive, exuberant and anarchic.
To recap for those who haven’t read the play since school, Jack and his friend Algernon are in love with Gwendolen and Cecily, but there is some confusion over which of the two young gentleman is called Earnest – a name both girls are very fond of, and something a romantic deal breaker. Meanwhile the fearsome Lady Bracknell, Gwendolen’s mother and aunt to Algernon, strongly disapproves.
This adaptation by Gerald Barry was first performed as a concert, winning a Royal Philharmonic Society Award, before being staged as modern-dress production by Ramin Gray for the Royal Opera House in 2013.
Now back for its second London season, cucumber sandwiches, smashed plates and megaphones are set to be the order of the day, all set to a hyperactive score that includes surreal variations of Beethoven and ‘Auld Lang Syne’.
The Importance of Being Earnest
29 March–3 April
Barbican, Silk Street, EC2Y 8DS barbican.org.uk
Sex work and opera may seem unlikely bedfellows, but one thing both have in common is strong public preconceptions.
The desire to challenge stereotypical thinking and stigma has brought the two together in the Sex Workers Opera, which comes to Dalston’s Arcola Theatre this month.
The show lets prostitutes, escorts, webcam performers, strippers and other sex workers tell their stories on stage through performance and music, foregrounding personal experiences good and bad.
“Everyone has an opinion on sex work,” explains Siobhan Knox, co-director of the show and co-founder of Experimental Experience theatre company. ”But when it comes down to it, the only people who really have the right to talk about it are sex workers themselves.”
“Very rarely is sex work represented in art through the words of the people actually doing it,” adds Alex Etchart, also co-director and co-founder.
“We put a call out for stories we could use in the opera, and received them from all over the world. We want to represent the diversity of sex workers on their own terms.”
As such, the less obvious aspects of selling sex are highlighted in the show, such as the close ties some forge with their clients and the personal empowerment – and disempowerment – experienced through the profession.
The term opera is used in the loosest sense, with the show incorporating other musical styles like hip-hop, jazz and spoken word. It was in part inspired by Bertold Brecht’s The Threepenny Opera of 1928, following the tradition of using a supposedly highbrow artform to explore gritty, earthbound themes. Nonetheless, the concept has been embraced by the opera establishment, with the Royal Opera House providing financial backing and guidance.
“Opera is one of the most established music and art forms, while sex work is one of the most marginalised professions,” says Etchart. “People often stop and stare when they see the poster for the show!”
The sensitivity of the opera’s subject matter is brought home by the Experimental Experience’s choice to cast a mix of sex workers and their allies in the production. As no-one reveals who is who, anonymity is ensured.
Contributing to the opera has been an intensely personal experience for many of the performers. The directors insist the intention is not to glorify sex work, rather to present a spectrum of viewpoints, unvarnished and straight from the horse’s mouth.
“Our main message isn’t ‘sex work is really great!’ or ‘sex work is really bad!’” says Siobhan. “It’s just literally: listen to sex workers.
“Whether you think it’s good or bad, objectification or empowerment, come and listen to a sex worker tell you about their life. Then you can open up a new dialogue.”
The Sex Workers Opera is at Arcola Theatre, 24 Ashwin Street, E8 3DL from 26–29 January 2015
Grime is of the essence at alternative opera festival
A fraudulent psychic, persecution in Mussolini’s Italy and a shepherd’s marriage to a semi-divine nymph are some of the subjects set to feature at this month’s festival of alternative opera Grimeborn, at the Arcola Theatre.
Ten productions, including new operas and small-scale re-workings of established favourites by Monteverdi, Massenet and Handel, are to be staged throughout the month in the Arcola’s two main studios.
Eye-catching operas include Women Box, a triple bill of musical theatre and opera about women’s boxing and the rise of the female conductor; a new translation of Monteverdi’s The Coronation of Poppea; and The Medium, an invitation to a séance with dark voices, magic tricks and flying spirits.
Now in its eighth year, Grimeborn aims to turn the stuffiness of the English summer opera season on its head, with its name a playful reference to the Glyndebourne opera festival.
The Arcola’s Artistic Director, Mehmet Ergen, calls Grimeborn “a breeding ground for original voices and some of the stars of tomorrow”.
The festival prepares vocalists for future roles by giving them the chance to perform in a more intimate setting and aims to attract new audiences to opera by adopting a bold, risk taking approach and by selling tickets at affordable prices.
Grimeborn 2014 is at Arcola Theatre, 24 Ashwin Street, E8 3DL until 7 September
The Beyreuth Festival in northern Bavaria is a mecca for opera lovers and a pilgrimage destination for fans of Richard Wagner, who himself conceived the idea for a special festival to showcase his own works.
So when in 2011 the experimental Opera singer Lore Lixenberg stood outside the Beyreuth Festspielhaus to give a rendition of John Cage’s ‘Aria with Fontana Mix’ to a crowd of opera purists, it was something of a bold move.
Lixenberg, originally from Brighton but who has lived in Stoke Newington since the mid-1990s, is a risk taker and iconoclast, operating in arguably the most change-resistant artistic form there is.
“With opera the boundary is very clear, you’re either a composer or a singer,” she says. “I make pieces but I don’t see myself as a composer – it’s just an extension of singing. There’s an interesting movement I suppose of opera singers who are moving more into creation not just interpretation.”
Lixenberg leads a cosmopolitan life. With her boyfriend she has just opened a gallery space in Berlin, and when we meet she tells me about a new project that involves streaming performances live from Berlin to Stoke Newington, and vice versa.
“I’m really interested in combining opera with things like physical theatre and visual arts – that’s why I like John Cage because he started that all off,” she says.
Opera may forever be be considered traditional, but this doesn’t bother Lixenberg. In one of her pieces, ‘Bird’, she undergoes a metamorphosis, speaking before making vocalisations, which finally evolve into full blown bird song. Another recent project is about an opera singer who finds herself at the end of the world, gathering all the bits of opera she can to save them from oblivion.
Lixenberg blurs the boundary between composition and performance, but there is no mistaking her operatic voice. She describes her voice as “a bit of a synthesiser”, and gives me a quick blast – leaving me momentarily startled.
‘Startled’ also describes the audience who heard her that time in Beyreuth, though they were soon won over by her chutzpah and originality.
Props such as a roll of sellotape, a toothbrush and even a packet of crisps were all part of the performance. At one point she even cries theatrically on the shoulder of an audience member. Is this how John Cage would have wanted it? Almost definitely, though what Wagner would have made of it is anyone’s guess.
Catering for opera: Fernando Messulam. Photograph: Eleonore de Bonneval
Performing arts is part of Fernando Messulam’s life. Originally from Rosorio in Argentina, he used to live in front of the city’s Opera House. His mother was a ballet dancer, as were all his nannies.
Unsurprisingly, he too entered the arts, but in a less traditional discipline – breakdancing. Later, while auditioning for a musical, he discovered he was able to sing opera as a tenor.
But alongside artistic ambitions, he started catering and managed a café located inside the Opera House. His waiters were mimes and there was a tap dancer at the bar. It was “quite a bohemian gathering”, he says. “Beyond food it was about the social experience.”
It is this experience that Messulam decided to reproduce in London. Since last year, he has managed De La Panza, an Argentine steakhouse on Southgate Road. He tries to be different but not “mechanically different”, preserving the local feel of the restaurant alongside the kind of vibe you might find in an Argentine bodega.
Music is a big part of this, and once a month on a Sunday musicians gather to play and sing. “Cinderella here is the Opera” he insists. “It is not rehearsed, there are no numbers. We all know what we are doing, so we just bring it on!”
The next Opera Day is on 27 April when Messulam will be accompanied by tenor Yuri Sabatini and Orpheus Papafilippou on violin. The event will last from 2-7pm and people are welcome to stay all afternoon, as if they were in their own living room. “The only thing is that they don’t have the keys!” he quips.
