**** (4 stars)
“A magnificent piece”
This co-production with Welsh National Opera has received glowing reviews and it’s easy to see why. The production is superb, the casting excellent, and the performance of the very high level I’ve come to expect from Scottish Opera. Sitting in the stalls yesterday, I was surrounded by large numbers of teenagers – on asking them what they thought about the opera, they responded with great energy and excitement. One young woman said it was her first-ever opera, and she couldn’t wait to see another one. I said that I’d first been blown away by opera at much the same age – I hope she becomes as passionate about the art form as I am.
Emilia Marty is an exceptional opera singer, who exerts an irresistible magnetic charm over every man she meets. She arrives in the offices of lawyer Doctor Kolenaty, wanting to know how the long-standing case of Gregor vs Prus is progressing. About a century ago, Baron Joseph Ferdinand Prus promised his estate to young Ferdinand Gregor, but apparently died without leaving a will. Prus’s second cousin immediately contested the will and took possession of the estate. The long-running legal battle has just ended with a decision in favour of the Prus family.
Emilia Marty reveals that Ferdinand Gregor was the Baron’s illegitimate son, whose mother was the Baron’s mistress Elina MacGregor. She insists that a valid will exists, and will be found in a certain drawer of the Baron’s desk. Doctor Kolenaty is initially reluctant to go in search of it, but agrees. Albert Gregor, the young descendant of Ferdinand is already completely mesmerised by Emilia and willing to offer her anything if her information proves correct. All she asks for is an old document, written in Greek, which she hopes will be found with the will.
Kolenaty returns with the will – accompanied by the current Baron Prus. The latter is very sceptical of the whole affair and demands written proof that Ferdinand Gregor was indeed the Baron’s son. Marty promises to provide this – and we see her writing something. Her knowledge of the whole situation, and her comment that no-one told her of Baron Prus’ death, begin to arouse our suspicions…
Following a triumphant performance, Emilia Marty returns to her dressing-room, in the middle of which is a huge pile of red roses. Her many admirers arrive, each bearing yet more, which she coldly accepts and then tosses on to the pile. Alongside the young ‘Bertie’ Gregor and Baron Prus, the latter’s son Janek falls under her spell, despite his previously acknowledged affection for Kolenaty’s daughter Kristina. Count Hauk-Sendorf appears, claiming that Marty is the exact double of his mistress Eugenia Montez, with whom he had a passionate relationship fifty years ago in Spain. This prompts a surprisingly warm response from the singer. Could it be that she remembers…? Marty dismisses all her admirers but Janek, whom she then asks to get the Greek document for her. His father arrives and forces him to leave, then offers to get the document himself in return for spending the night with her. She agrees.
The next morning Prus accuses Marty of being cold and insensitive – but eventually gives her the document. The two are interrupted by the news that Janek has committed suicide. Kolenaty arrives with his clerk Vitek, Gregor and Kristina. Together with Baron Prus they begin interrogating Marty on her past and the validity of the documents she has provided, accusing her of forging ones from the different ‘E.M.s’ who have been involved in this complex story.
All is now revealed. Elina Makropulos, born in 1569, was made to take a potion originally concocted by her father at the behest of the emperor Rudolf II. He wanted to stay young forever – but insisted the potion be tried on the 16-year-old Elina first. She has lived for over 300 years, continually changing her name but always keeping the same initials – and becoming increasingly weary of her life and the demands made by all the men who desire her. She has only loved once in her long life – the Baron Prus whose son Ferdinand Gregor she bore.
Finally she is showing signs of aging, and needs to take the potion again – but instead elects finally to leave her life and surrender to death.
This complex story takes a little while to get going – there has to be a scene in the lawyer’s office to outline the progress of the case at its heart, and introducing young Albert Gregor, whose hopes are completely dashed when he learns that he’s lost it. Emilia Marty sweeps in and immediately dominates – but I failed to feel her magnetism, and found the over-the-top reactions of her would-be lovers hard to appreciate. As the action progressed, it became easy to see why she was so cold – she’s weary of life, weary of all the histrionics, weary of the many men who both love and hate her with great passion, but ultimately see her as a possession rather than a person.
The final act brought all the main protagonists together as they confronted this extraordinarily enigmatic character and the astonishing truth was finally revealed. I found it fitting that the young singer Kristina, with her future ahead of her, chose to ignore Marty’s invitation to use the potion herself and instead set light to it, thus finally setting Marty free to die. I found it less moving that the apparently dead singer then emerged from beneath her veil to sing a long death aria emphasising the importance of life’s brevity in enabling people fully to enjoy and embrace both life and its inevitable ending.
But it was a magnificent piece, sung by a brilliant cast on a wonderfully imaginative set and supported by the supremely talented Scottish Opera orchestra under Martyn Brabbins. Before the curtain rose there was a wonderful succession of images projected on to the scrim: all invoking the passage of time, the struggles of a woman to emerge from the veils surrounding her, and an all-seeing eye.
My highlights: the towering stacks of legal papers that at one point threatened to rise up to the ceiling and engulf everyone on stage; Emilia Marty’s glorious red gown and hair in the second act; the stage hand’s struggle to move one of those stacks of papers and Kristina’s reactions to the recorded sound of her own voice, played on a phonograph as the set was changed to the dressing room of Act 2; that whole set change; and the music – such an integral part of the action that in a weird way it was almost unheard: impossible to separate it from the drama taking place on stage. Full marks for offering the work in English [though I’m sad that English supertitles were deemed necessary: most of the time they were superfluous, as the diction was almost always impeccable]. The audience most definitely appreciated being able to understand what was going on – at times huge belly laughs at the dialogue and action filled the Theatre Royal.
At a time when the legality assisted dying is being reconsidered, this work sheds important light on the whole notion that living forever is somehow ideal. Even assuming that longevity is accompanied by a youthful appearance and good health, how does it feel to repeat relationship scenarios ad infinitum? How is it possible to avoid ending up bored and lonely, as everyone you love ages and dies? Old age may indeed only be for sissies – but surely it’s the inevitable and desirable way to go…?
Yet another superbly impressive evening from Scottish Opera – thank you all very much!
The Makropulos Affair, Scottish Opera, Theatre Royal, Glasgow, Runs until Saturday 22nd February before transferring to Edinburgh Festival Theatre 27th Feb to 1st March for more information go to: Janáček’s The Makropulos Affair | Scottish Opera
Theatre Royal Tickets: ATG Tickets
Festival Theatre Tickets: The Makropulos Affair – Scottish Opera
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