All about Nothing. Danish premiere of youth opera Intet by David Bruce

From a country where a giraffe is dissected for children as a holiday attraction, you don't have to expect a sugary pink Disney opera. And so Intet (= Nothing) is not. Think Lord of the Flies, venue: a peaceful Danish village. Also think: Søren Kierkegaard - because philosophy. Also by no means a buffoon.

The story

Intet is based on Janne Teller's children's book of the same name, which became a hit in Denmark and abroad in 2001 - 26 translations have since come out. The book's story is about the meaning of life, and is a horror story as well as a philosophical one. Or at least a barsk fortælling, a bleak narrative.

After the holidays, Pierre-Anthon tells his classmates from 7D [hints]Danish primary school runs until the ninth grade, a kind of middle school actually[/hints] that nothing has meaning. 'Nothing has meaning, I've known that for a long time. So it has no meaning to do anything either, I just found that out.'

With those words, Pierre-Anthon leaves his school class. After all, going to school makes no sense either. He climbs a plum tree next to school and pelts his classmates with plums and his newfound nihilistic insights as they pass by. They think he is stupid at first, but when Pierre-Anthon gets personal and starts making lame jokes about the very things they put their heart and soul into, they strike back. First with words, then with stones. Then Sofie, the smallest of the class, gets a bright idea: let's show Pierre-Anthon what does have meaning. Everyone should contribute with something, an object, that has meaning for them. In the end, then, that overwhelming evidence, that Mountain of Meaning, must convince him.

A sacrifice must hurt

In an abandoned sawmill, the class proceeds like a secret society, flying under the radar of parental supervision. Classmates keep Pierre informed while 'building', but even under construction he ridicules the Mountain. He doubts that the really important things come on the Mountain when you get to decide what to part with - you keep those to yourself. That Mountain is nothing but a Mountain of Waste. No, let others decide what to give you.

The logic of that reasoning does not escape the classmates, so they change the rules. Those who sacrifice something themselves may then point to someone else and tell them what to sacrifice. Then things get out of hand. Meaning is no longer the main driver. The pain you feel by having to give up something essential, sacrifice even, the other person will also feel. Does Agnes have to give up her favourite sandals? Then Gerda has to sacrifice her hamster. Other pets suffer. A girl has to cut off her braids. A patriotic boy has to surrender the Danish flag, a devout boy a crucifix. The deceased brother of one of the classmates has to go on the Mountain with coffin and all. A girl has to sacrifice her virginity, a boy who plays the guitar beautifully a finger.

But Pierre continues to think it is all nothing and mocks their sacrifices. Even when the Mountain of Significance, in all its horror, hits the news and is bought by an art museum. That's not nothing, is it? But doesn't meaning lose value if you can sell it, sarts Pierre. In the end, he comes to see the Mountain and, how surprisingly, finds it nothing. And then his classmates punish him horribly. Meaning is not to be trifled with.

The opera

So much for the story, now for the opera. It was commissioned by The Royal Opera in London and the Glyndebourne Festival and written by composer David Bruce and librettist Glyn Maxwell. The world premiere took place in 2016 in Glyndebourne. It is their second collaborative project; previously they wrote the chamber opera The Firework Maker's Daughter. Both are in the British classical-modern traditions of Benjamin Britten and W.H. Auden. But surely a touch of Bernstein's West Side Story, and even Theodorakis' To Axion Esti, can be heard occasionally in the rousing choral pieces.

Glyn Maxwell is known for his accessible lyrics, unapologetically mundane yet extraordinary. In the Danish translation, the colloquiality is reflected in the many English expressions. But it all fits. Although Janne Teller's own sound is lost in the translation from Danish to English and then back again.

The choir, consisting of students from the Jyske Musikkonservatoriet [hints]Jysk is the adjective of Jutland, the Danish mainland - where Aarhus is located. In Danish: Jylland. You pronounce the y as uu. And yes, interior stunner Jysk is indeed from Jutland[/hints] and youngsters from TalentU, the youth department of the Jyske Opera, form class 7D. And they do it very cleverly. All the choral pieces stand like a house. The only thing that sounds young and too light are a few small solo parts by choir members, which barely rise above the orchestra.

A young cast

The five main roles are sung by younger, professional singers at the beginning of their careers. Matthias Hedegaard may not be an unknown in the Netherlands as he has sung tenor parts several times in oratorios with the Nederlandse Bachvereniging. But here he sings a sings a supple, vile Pierre, from whom it is easy to understand that he still has such an ascendancy over the class he broke away from. Soprano Sofie Elkjær Jensen sings a good-natured Agnes, who wants to keep everyone together. Mezzo-soprano Johanne Højlund sounds especially lovely when she sings low. Her Ursula is just not very convincing, but that is not so much down to her. Karl, sung by bass Jakob Vad and guitarist Johan, sung by counter-tenor Daniel Carlsson, suffer from the same thing. Karl has become an incomprehensibly bossy bully, and Johan a buffoon with laugh-or-shout gestures. That's down to the libretto.

Dramatic libretto

The libretto is, by its very nature, a condensed version of the book. Try converting 128 pages of group dynamics of young teenagers with 20 characters into barely two hours of opera including intermission.

So Maxwell chose to merge a number of characters into one opera role - except Pierre. But he has surrendered half his name. Agnes is composed of several characters from the book, and the same goes for the other main roles. Whereas in the book each character struggles with his or her own definition of 'meaning' and loss, and a patchwork of meanings emerges, in the opera each character becomes a symbol for a meaning: patriotism, animal love, religion.

But he changes even more essential things about the story. For instance, a 'love interest' arises between Pierre and Agnes, which does not appear in the book. Tensions also arise between 'the boys' and 'the girls' as groups, which are marginally present in the book but much more so in the opera. Probably to make the choral pieces more dramatic.

The exhumed little brother was apparently too scary and was replaced by a dog. The deletion of the characters Hussain and Anna-Li, the Korean girl, makes Denmark white again. Not to mention the sale of the Mountain of Meaning to the museum: that was also cut out. And the adults? Absent. But at the end of the opera, when class 7D faces and laments the self-inflicted havoc, they do complain about the grown-ups, who should have helped them.

What remains

So we are left with an opera that is convincing in the beginning, but collapses as a logical narrative towards the end. You know it's going to end in tears, and it stumbles to its gruesome end, helped by the shock and horror effects. Especially in the scene where the Danish flag is sacrificed, it hooks the audience: it is dead silent.

In short, ensemble and orchestra led by Søren Kinch play very beautifully, and they can tell a story that convinces - to the extent that the (mostly young) audience was, and remained, enthralled. 'Nothing' is not nothing, but could have been more. The book deserved better.