Rusalka

Jennifer Davis in Irish National Opera's Rusalka. Photo, Ruth Medjber

****

Bad mouthing ballet and opera? Spare me. Timothée Chalamet’s asinine remarks suggesting the ping-pong boy should never be allowed speak without adult supervision. Certain columnists bafflingly endorsing Chalamet’s anti-opera foolishness. Rebuttals justified and immediate. Nathan Lane's no holds takedown on The View, and Fergus Shiel's more decorous response in the Irish Times speaking for millions. A packed house at Bord Gáis Energy Theatre for Irish National Opera’s production of Antonín Dvořák’s 1901 opera, Rusalka, suggesting a greater appetite for opera than for many contemporary movies. That even when opera isn’t firing on popular cylinders, it's more invigorating than most mainstream cinema. INO’s co-production evoking a Brutalist build on a Georgian terrace. As likely to fascinate innovators as infuriate traditionalists. It’s almost three and a half hours of both superb and specious spectacle elevated by a sublime soprano.

Michelle DeYoung and Jennifer Davis in Irish National Opera's Rusalka. Photo, Ruth Medjber

Based on Karel Jaromír Erben's and Božena Němcová's fairytale, water nymph Rusalka finds the curse of true love never runs smooth. Seeking to become human having fallen in love with a handsome prince, those familiar with Hans Christian Anderson’s, or Disney’s The Little Mermaid, know what mostly follows. Cue witch, lost voice, found feet and a curse should Rusalka’s land loving prince reject her. Their un-Disney road to inevitable ruin culminating in a miserably ever after. Yet under director Netia Jones, Dvořák’s tale of forbidden love gives way to a tale of body dysmorphia. In which magic gives way to medicine, potions to pills, and witchcraft to cosmetic surgery.

Irish National Opera's Rusalka. Photo, Ruth Medjber

Refocusing attention to contemporary concerns, Jones sacrifices the classical for the clinical, the myth for the modern, and the modern for the post-modern. Rusalka less a princess so much as Daddy's working class princess. Struggling with body dysmorphia and a desire to belong to a glamorous celebrity set. Pat ideas on class consciousness, and weak interrogations of young girls spirits being societally crushed sitting uneasily next to stronger studies of dysmorphia. Offset by the original story of virginal love and lascivious lust that plays out less convincingly. Jones’ singular vision informing costume, set, video design and direction with divisive choices. Events opening with a ho-hum video projection of what appears to be a schoolgirl drowning. Action shifting to a palace of pipes evoking the heating system of a New York skyscraper, or a sunken submarine. A cage wherein the caged bird sings. Meanwhile, young girls in school uniforms flip uninterestingly around bars with all the excitement of a health and safety demonstration. Mischief at Malory Towers meets The Gymnasts of Saint Trinian’s as their kingly father, Vodník, turns out to be a hard working janitor.

Jennifer Davis in Irish National Opera's Rusalka. Photo Ruth Medjber

Already, dull aerial routines, claustrophobic bars, and obscured projections inhibiting Lotta Hammarstrand’s mostly impressive lights feel weighed down with fuss and bother. Expressionist silhouettes, a projected forest, or a life sized chessboard borrowed from Alice in Wonderland proving far more impactful. On which Jessica Kennedy choreographs a chess game for the in-crowd. Costumed crazies accentuating social rules which Rusalka blunders through like a country bumpkin. No fairytale princess here. Just a working class girl and a slumming prince. The latter becoming quickly enamoured with a socially acceptable seductress.

Irish National Opera's Rusalka. Photo Ruth Medjber

While Jaroslav Kvapil’s libretto hasn’t a lot to say, it says it an awful lot. Jones’ contemporary compensations doing little to mitigate Kvapil’s durational drag. Repetitions sounding cumbersome against Dvořák’s symphonic score. Rich, romantic, sweeping and tender, operatic flourishes of Wagnerian bombast married to musical motifs echoing Tchaikovsky's thrilling chases predict the arrival of the movie soundtrack a few decades later. Conductor Fergus Sheil’s uplifting baton relishing every note. Music carrying the heft of Rusalka’s expressive weight, more supported by singing than supporting it and, on occasion, smothering it. Irish National Opera Chorus superb as ever. Sopranos Giselle Allen (Foreign Princess) Rachel Croash (first wood nymph), along with mezzo-sopranos Alexandra Urquiola (third wood nymph), Michelle DeYoung (a ruthlessly brilliant Ježibaba), and Sarah Richmond (kitchen boy and second wood nymph) equally superb. Richmond seizing her moment and shining, along with baritones Andrew Masterson (Hunstman) and Benjamin Russell (Gamekeeper). Bass Ante Jerkunica (Vodník) adding much needed muscular texture. Offset by tenor Ryan Capozzo whose timbre, tone and swaggering good looks provide all the handsome prince you can handle, even as power and projection aren't quite there yet. Unlike soprano Jennifer Davis’s Rusalka, the prodigal daughter doomed to return. Davis capable of whispering to the moon or howling with rage fuelled urgency. Conveying depth of desire or despair of dysphoria till you feel it rising on the back of your neck. Davis absolutely sensational, shaping Rusalka’s emotional landscape with a crowing performance.

Jennifer Davis in Irish National Opera's Rusalka. Photo Ruth Medjber

Musically divine, vocally impressive, visually something of a glorious car crash, Rusalka trades signified for sign, scene for the scenic, the pastoral for stainless steel. Yet it successfully repositions Dvořák's opera to engage with themes of contemporary relevance. Proving opera isn't inoculated against risk. Fusing passion with possibility, opera aspires to the most demanding of artistic heights. From Dublin to Verona, Wexford to Blackwater, lobbies to late night lock-ins, from festival directors to the postman whose passion for Puccini first roused my operatic curiosity, opera people, wherever you find them, from all walks of life, are the most passionate, friendly and fascinating of people. Happy to share their experiences, insights, joys and recommendations. And they’re not going anywhere. Rather, they’re growing in numbers. So come, join them. The invitation is always open. The welcome always warm. The experience always unique, with much to enjoy. Much like Rusalka.

Rusalka, by Antonín Dvořák, libretto by Jaroslav Kvapil, based on Karel Jaromír Erben's and Božena Němcová's fairytale, a co-production by Irish National Opera with Royal Swedish Opera and Nouvel Opéra Fribourg, runs at Bord Gáis Energy Theatre until March 28.

For more information visit Bord Gáis Energy Theatre or Irish National Opera