Opera
Iris (Opera Holland Park)
Mascagni in the park
Michael Tanner
What is the best way to revive a semi- forgotten opera, in a manner that does it justice without giving the impression that it is a near-masterpiece? If it's not a near- masterpiece, it is best that no one should be misled into thinking that it is, since that will most likely mean disappointment at future encounters with it. Although, finances allowing, it might be fun to see what can be made of a trifle by giving it the international all-star treatment, that is probably best left to the record companies, whose products are made for repeated use, and, if they get it, will expose the compara- tive inferiority of the piece simply by invit- ing repetition, and thus inevitably lead the listener to form his unillusioned judgment.
All this by way of preamble to my warm report on Mascagni's Iris, as performed by Opera Holland Park in the eponymous the- atre last week. It was a hit last year, but an unhappy encounter with a much greater work there earlier in the season had made me keep my distance. An inveterate opti- mist, I turned up for the first night, and thus the first cast, this year, only to have my optimism most satisfactorily vindicated. I don't have any sense that Iris is a work deserving of repertory status, but it packs a satisfactory punch and commands fairly continuous interest.
Coming eight years after Cavalleria Rus- ticana, it shows Mascagni shrewdly tuning in to the vogue for japanoiserie, and also trying something rather more extended than his early hit, though not by a great deal. According to the New Grove Dictio- nary of Opera, 'the true problem with the subject' is 'the thinness of the action', and this is not a judgment that I would dispute. (I'd like to mention here that New Grove has just been published in paperback, and that it is, for any serious opera lover, indis- pensable, as well as being, for the most part, highly readable, something one hardly expects from encyclopaedias, which is what this really is. There is no general respect in which it can be faulted, and there are some articles, such as Bernard Williams's on 'The nature of opera', which mark a sub- stantial advance in thinking about the medium. Anyone who buys the paperback edition, on the other hand, might soon wish that they had bought the hardback, since constant reference to it becomes a feature of any owner's life.) Iris doesn't have so much a thin action as an excessive preoccupation with the frame in which to place it. The subject is no less substantial than that of many far longer operas which justify their length. What one might criticise Mascagni and his librettist, the ubiquitous Illica, for is a failure to show how the setting has any close bearing on the central action. Essentially we feel that the relationships between Iris and her blind father on the one hand, and the caddish- cum-besotted Osaka, determined to pos- sess her, then bored by her concern for her father, then with his passion re-ignited, might occur in a setting which had no con- nection with Mount Fujiyama. Granted the extremely lax attitude that many opera- goers have to the divertissements of baroque opera, it might be felt unfair to complain about this quantity of oriental- ism, especially since some of it is pretty good. Yet the resolutely stern approach to the real subject, once it emerges, invites a more stringent set of demands. A warmly sympathetic heroine who becomes a prosti- tute and drowns herself in a sewer pro- duces a sense of urgency in the spectator.
Opera Holland Park copes with aplomb with these problems. The orchestral and choral forces are up to the fairly imposing score, which begins more unassertively than any other opera except Siegfried, with a solo double bass playing pianissimo, a whispered motif which accompanies Iris's apotheosis in the closing minutes of the opera. The 'Hymn to the Sun' invites com- parison with Turandot, as does the work as a whole, much to its advantage. The only things it lacks are an 'In questa reggia' and a `Nessun dorma'.
Mascagni shows here, as in almost all his operas, that he is one of that accursed gen- eration of Italian composers who are always on the verge of being tuneful, but almost never actually make it. The very fine singers did all they could to help. Iris herself, Giselle Allen, will surely become a star very quickly, for she has the looks, the presence and the vocal intensity to cut out a niche for herself in the burgeoning renaissance of verismo. Geraint Dodd, who impressed me hugely a few months ago as Florestan in English Touring Opera's Fide- was as impressive as he could be in an unsympathetic and under-characterised role. The handsomest figure on stage was II Cieco, failing to give the impression of blindness, but a noble presence and a firm voice: Gerard O'Connor, another remark- able talent. The rather too conspicuously located conductor was John Gibbons, giv- ing a confident lead and propelling the piece to a tremendous final climax. I hope this year's success with the piece encour- ages a further outing for it.
Previous page
