Thebans

The world premiere of a new opera by a leading British composer is always a keenly anticipated event. When that opera is the first by the acclaimed composer Julian Anderson, and the subject is Sophocles’s monumental Theban tragedies (‘Oedipus Rex’, ‘Antigone’ and ‘Oedipus at Colonus’), with a libretto by distinguished playwright Frank McGuinness thrown in for good measure… well, the stakes are high. The real tragedy, however, is that while there is much originality and intelligence on display in this ENO commission, there is little actual drama.

Despite a sensational, quirky score, conducted with great verve by Edward Gardner, an impressive set of stone pillars from Tom Pye and Pierre Audi’s practical, tableaux-focused direction, as musical drama, ‘Thebans’ flatlines emotionally.

This, after all, is the tale of a man who on realising he has married his mother, puts out his eyes and curses his sons to kill each other; his only comfort is a daughter who is condemned to death by a tyrannical rival. It should give you quite the going over. But ‘Thebans’ leaves one feeling nothing; the stories are presented as three all-too-brief scenes (50 mins, 20 mins and 30 mins) excised from an ancient saga. Meanwhile, the musical tension is relentless, robbing the drama of any actual climaxes.

While the orchestral score is a triumph, the vocal lines are slotted in rather than prevailed over and consequently the singing often gets lost. A further disappointment is the monotonous arioso writing for baritone Roland Wood as Oedipus.

Better served is the superb tenor Peter Hoare as arch rival Creon. As Oedipus’s daughter Antigone, soprano Julia Sporsén has the most dramatic import, but she is underused; bass Matthew Best is solid as the blind Tiresias and Christopher Ainslie is an agile, golden Adonis, lending his countertenor to the role of Messenger.

The best singing comes courtesy of the collective voice of the chorus. Anderson’s use of it is clever and the writing pleasingly dissonant and unsettling. The biggest problem is ultimately the brevity of ‘Thebans’: unlike, say, Wagner’s operas, the characters simply aren’t on stage long enough for us to commit to their world.