Review: THE GOLDEN COCKEREL – ADELAIDE FESTIVAL 2022 at Adelaide Festival Theatre, Adelaide Festival Centre

A remarkable operatic event.

By: Mar. 07, 2022
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Review: THE GOLDEN COCKEREL – ADELAIDE FESTIVAL 2022 at Adelaide Festival Theatre, Adelaide Festival Centre Reviewed by Barry Lenny, Sunday 6th March 2022.

This year's Festival has brought us director, Barrie Kosky's, production of The Golden Cockerel, also known as Le Coq d'Or when performed outside Russia and sung in French, and, in the original Russian, as Zolotoi Petushok (?-олотой петушок). With music by Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov, and lyrics by Vladimir Bielski, it was based on a short poem from 1834, The Tale of the Golden Cockerel, by Alexander Pushkin, his last fairytale in verse. It was Rimsky-Korsakov's last opera, having its premiere in Moscow in 1909, the year after his death. Interestingly, it became famous as a ballet following its performance by Diaghilev's Ballet Russe, the singers performing from the sides of the stage with the dancers portraying the characters.

This is a co-production with Festival d'Aix-en-Provence, Adelaide Festival, Opéra National de Lyon, and Komische Oper Berlin, in association with the Adelaide Symphony Orchestra. It is superbly conducted by Arvo Volmer.

Leading up to the opening night there was consideration given to Putin's war on Ukraine, and the fact that both Russian and Ukrainian singers were in the cast, but the decision was eventually made to go ahead, fortunately for Adelaide audiences.

On the surface, it appears as a darkly comic fairytale with a moral but, below the surface, it is a biting political satire, a thinly veiled attack on the Tsar. The reference to the Tsaritsa being from the Orient is deliberate. From February 1904 to September 1905, Russia had been at war with Japan. Japan defeated Russia, stopping their plans to include Asia in their territory. Asian tonalities are included in her thematic material The parallels are clear.

The work begins with a short prologue, segueing into the first of three acts, and ends with an epilogue so short that, should you blink, you might miss it. Like Wagner, Rimsky-Korsakov uses leitmotifs, and the main ones are played in the music at the start of the Prologue, during which the Astrologer appears to explain that this is a folk tale with a moral, from long ago.

In Act 1, Tsar Dodon suspects that the Tsaritsa of neighbouring Shemakha plans to invade and, on an indication given by a Golden Cockerel supplied by his Astrologer that it is so, he sends his two foolish and inept sons to make a pre-emptive strike. This will, no doubt, sound all too familiar at the moment.

In Act 2, we hear that the sons are so hopeless that they have managed to kill one another in battle, fighting over the Tsaritsa. Dodon decides to lead his army himself, but he, too, falls for the Tsaritsa. His attempts at romance are pathetic, but she realises that she can gain control of his territory without the need for war, and agrees to marry him. First, however, she utterly humiliates him in front of his army by convincing him to sing and to dance, at both of which he is totally devoid of ability.

Act 3 finds us at the wedding procession, where the Astrologer reappears and reminds Dodon of his promise that he can have anything he desires for providing the golden Cockerel to protect the country. He asks for the Tsaritsa. Dodon reacts in fury and viciously attacks the Astrologer, killing him, but the Cockerel then takes revenge on Dodon. The Tsaritsa and the Cockerel vanish.

In the Epilogue, as a nod to Shakespeare's Puck, the Astrologer reminds us that what we have seen is merely fiction and, probably, only he and the Tsaritsa are real.

The curtain rises on the set, by Rufus Didwiszus, which serves for all three acts, a wasteland, with a considerably raked clearing between two dead, dried, grassy knolls, with one dead tree looming ominously over the scene. It is atmospherically lit by Franck Evin, although I felt it was a little too dark at the end of the second act and, at times, in the third. I would have liked to have seen Victoria Behr's eclectic, even bizarre costumes, the elaborate, often grotesque makeup, and the striking wigs, a little better.

The Adelaide Symphony Orchestra always presents problems for critics. How many ways are there of saying how magnificently they play? Yet again, they gave a sterling performance, responding with great skill to Arvo Volmer's insightful conducting. No less impressive was the Adelaide Festival Chorus, under their Chorus Master, Anthony Hunt, even while running about in their horse's head and upper torso costumes, with a touch of Burlesque below the waist the entire chorus clad in fishnet stockings and suspenders.

First to appear is the Astrologer, sung by Andrei Popov, who brings an air of mystery to the character. This role is written for a tenor altino, a tenor who can reach notes considerably higher than the usual tenor range. His performance in the role was a rare treat for the audience.

The main character is, of course, the foolish, somewhat senile, and paranoid Tsar Dodon, sung by Pavlo Hunka, who shows that he fully understands the complexity of the character, and is often playful in his interpretation. He gives a thoroughly captivating performance.

His none-to-bright and antagonistically competitive sons, Tsarevich Aphron and Tsarevich Gvidon, the Tweedledum and Tweedledee of the piece, are sung by Samuel Dundas and Nicholas Jones, underlining their sibling rivalry with subtly delivered comedy.

The Tsaritsa of Chemakha is sung by Venera Gimadieva, her rich voice perfectly complementing the seductive nature of her character, with all of the moves and facial expressions to complete the wonderful interpretation.

The argumentative General Polkan is powerfully sung by Mischa Schelomianski, unhindered by his horse's head costume, and Amelfa, the Royal Housekeeper, is sung with conviction by Alexandra Durseneva.

In spite of being the titular character, the role of the Cockerel is actually quite small, portrayed on stage by Matthew Whittet, who spends much of the time perched in the dead tree, and beautifully sung offstage by Samantha Clarke.

The production runs until Wednesday 9th March. I would tell you to rush for a ticket but, unfortunately, it was sold out long ago, and there is a waiting list for cancellations. You could always add your name to that list and hope for the best.



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