Orla Boylan dazzles in director Olivia Fuchs’ visually striking, deeply compassionate production of Janáček’s mystery thriller for Scottish Opera
There’s a conundrum facing any director dealing with Janáček’s 1926 operatic mystery thriller: how much to focus on its apparently crucial legal bickerings, and how much to reveal about its real themes of time, life and death. It’s a tightrope that director Olivia Fuchs – and soprano Orla Boylan in the central role of Emilia Marty – navigates very persuasively in her striking, at times very moving, production for Scottish Opera. The staging was first unveiled in 2022 at Welsh National Opera, sung in the original Czech. However, here it gains enormously in immediacy and resonance with its English-language performance, in an idiomatic and, at times, bluntly colloquial translation by David Pountney.
Opera diva Marty seems to know far more than she should about a century-long legal dispute and Janáček drops clues as to what’s really going on like breadcrumbs through his first two acts only to reveal the reasons for Marty’s uncanny knowledge in the transcendental denouement.
Gratifyingly, Fuchs never over-signposts where Janáček’s breadcrumbs are leading. But her clues come most captivatingly through her restless, dynamic vision of Marty – sung and acted with arresting variety and insight by Boylan – who is an innocent bystander, harridan, seductress and (somewhat bizarrely) vampire before abandoning pretence to disclose her vulnerability. It’s a magisterial, very human performance, haughty and regal as Marty comes off stage to a dressing room strewn with blood-red roses, but finds a sense of wonder and self-knowledge as she embraces mortality. Boylan’s voice has both power and subtlety, and she conveys a lot of humour, too, in Marty’s haughty disregard for the well-being of others and in the disappointing mundaneness of procreation.
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Sadly, though, Boylan is sometimes simply engulfed in the remarkably rich, detailed, sonorous playing from the pit. Scottish Opera’s orchestra is on magnificent form under conductor Martyn Brabbins, revelling in the acid details of Janáček’s score, while never losing sight of its grand swells of drama and emotion.
Similar balance problems hold true for some of the other cast members – notably Ryan Capozzo as an eager, impassioned Albert Gregor and even Roland Wood, a looming presence as the lascivious Baron Prus. Nimble and spry, Alasdair Elliott threatens to steal the show as the ageing Count Hauk-Šendorf, who’d known Marty decades earlier as an Andalucian gypsy.
Nicola Turner’s designs mix naturalism and fantasy to striking effect, from rippling paperwork in a bile-green lawyers’ office to blazing white for the austere purity of Marty’s truth, set to dazzling lighting by Robbie Butler. Sam Sharples’ atmospheric video projections of hourglasses and metronomes provide a perceptive, on-message commentary, all the more moving when they transform into children grasping for support and love.
Fuchs’ production very successfully teases apart the work’s many ideas and plants them in a deeply human, very compassionate context. Inevitably, though, it hinges on its central character and, as the enigmatic, imperious Marty, Boylan is resplendent.
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