Macbeth as childless killer

On Thursday 9 April, I saw the new production of Verdi's tenth opera Macbeth of The National Opera. It was unanimously slammed by the press after its premiere last Friday. German director Andrea Breth, who previously signed off on an understated reading of Prokofiev's The player, got a big kick out of it. The Theatre newspaper lacked 'a good persons direction', Place de l'Opéra recalled a "corny staging", The Parool spoke of "intellectualistic 21st-century director's stuff" and according to De Volkskrant it should be "forbidden to dress up choristers in an opera as partisans, Hezbollah fighters or separatists". - But is all this criticism justified? Four answers.

'Partisans, Hezbollah fighters, separatists'

Shakespeare's tragedy Macbeth, on which Francesco Maria Piave based his libretto, is about a general who is supreme on the battlefield and ultimately meets his end there. So the fact that the stage is populated by men in uniform, brandishing daggers and Kalashnikovs, is entirely in line with the story. Furthermore, it is a mystery to me how you can tell from someone's clothes that he is a 'separatist', but there too I can follow Breth well. After all, Macbeth, with his bloodthirsty reign of terror, chases the nobles out of Scotland, after which they advance from England to reclaim his crown obtained by the murder of King Duncan.

'Intellectualist director's stuff'

Every director tries to provide interpretation, and Andrea Breth makes a legitimate choice in this too for me. She bombs Lord and Lady Macbeth's childlessness into the core of their unrelenting hunger for power, by placing an empty cot with a giant toy bear in their sleeping quarters. Sure, it's an intellectual invention that zooms in on Freudian urges, but plausible it is.

Consistently worked out, too: when Macbeth and his wife develop their murderous plans, they circle this empty cot over and over again. When they decide to set fire to Macduff's castle, including his wife and children, the toy bear also goes up in flames. When Lady Macbeth is plagued by guilt and premonitions of the impending end, she cradles the burnt beast in her arms and places its severed head in the cradle.

Nice is also the ending: after Macbeth is killed by the 'not of a woman' Macduff, Duncan's son Malcolm is crowned king, after which he - adorned with crown - takes a triumphant seat in the cot. That Malcolm (a moderately singing and acting Vincenzo Costanzo) is decked out as Che Guevara, including a Havana cigar, is less convincing.

Downright ugly and incomprehensible are the moments when Breth deploys canned voices. For instance, Macbeth's letter to his Lady is not recited by herself, but we hear a distorted computer voice murmuring unintelligible phrases - the impact is completely lost. Also wondrous is the moment when a group of musicians plays a festive music on stage, which, however, resounds deep behind the scenes. Equally alienating is the mechanical chanting that Breth presents us with when Banco's little son, as a ghostly apparition, carries a crown before him while singing.

'Old-fashioned staging'

Martin Zehetgruber's stage setting alternates between a field of swaying ferns, the padded bedroom of Lord and Lady Macbeth and the hall of a castle. As an interlude, he shows a sort of stacked chicken coop when Macbeth consults the witches for the second time. I understand those ferns: after all, the magic hens keep themselves hidden in the thicket, and the warriors also advance from the greenery.

The soundproofing walls in the dormitory give the scenes between Lord and Lady Macbeth a claustrophobic character: the couple are isolated from their surroundings and what they discuss is for their own ears only. With its large transparent windows, the reception hall resembling a modern bank building creates a grandeur that suits the story well. The battery room filled with witches adriftly leafing through spells is a Fremdkörper.

Breth shapes the gruesome killings (too) subdued. Shows the teaser for Macbeth a man adorned with a crown from which gallons of blood flow, Duncan's slaughter takes place invisibly for us. This leaves the compassion behind, but corny it is not. Banco's death is also depicted unspectacularly: the hitman points a gun at him and he drops dead.

The bloodlust of the childless couple is suggested during the festive banquet, where the table is littered with red hunks of meat. Slightly tacky and flat, but corny? Why Breth lets control freak Lady Macbeth drink herself senseless in this scene, however, is not justified. Disturbing are the many and long changes, which take the momentum out of the story, especially as they occur at the most unexpected moments. So clumsy, yes, but corny? No.

'Good persons direction lacking'

Here the critics have a point, as the drama indeed hardly comes alive. The question, however, is whether this is due to a failing character direction or the chosen cast. The two main characters in particular fail to deliver. Texan baritone Scott Hendricks has a fine voice and sings his notes neatly, but that is all. Not for a moment does he manage to make sense of how he, driven by hunger for power, drifts further and further into a hellish nightmare, which even makes him sacrifice his friend Banco. Even when he repents in his closing aria and curses the crown, he fails to move.

Nor does Italian soprano Amarilli Nizza (replacing an ailing Nadja Michael) manage to give Lady Macbeth any meat on the bones. Verdi thought her character should sound "dark and cold", "like a devil". Chilly Nizza certainly sounds: her voice has a somewhat metallic tone, but nowhere does she become dark and menacing. Even the moments when doubt, remorse and ultimately madness strike lack any emotional conviction. Her flapping vibrato doesn't help either.

Strong was Ukrainian bass Vitaly Kovalyov, who, despite his flu, portrayed a memorable Banco. Not only does he have an overwhelming stage presence, but as soon as he opens his mouth you hang on his every word: he portrays a flesh-and-blood human being. Too bad his role is so small. If possible, even more convincing was Korean tenor Wookyung Kim as Macduff. With his beautiful timbre and profound performance, he conveyed the grief for his burnt loved ones so poignantly that tears came to my eyes. Kovalyov and Kim deservedly received the most effusive applause afterwards.

The National Opera Chorus also provided goosebumps several times, especially in the lament for the troubled Scotland in the fourth act. Too bad it could not always keep up with the often punishing tempi of Marc Albrecht and the Netherlands Philharmonic Orchestra, which, incidentally, was also true of the soloists and the musicians themselves. There were fine solos by clarinet, oboe and other instruments, but as a whole it lacked finesse and warm-bloodedness.

In short: a top production this was certainly not, but the scathing reviews give the impression of a game of Breth bashing.