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1984 by Lorin Maazel. The CG production.

By Janet Woodall

 

Before the production opened I accused some critics of having already made up their minds to damn 1984. I of course had already made up my mind to enjoy it, if only to spite the critics. I now have to eat my words.

..

 

 

 

Don't get me wrong, there is much to enjoy. The sets were appropriate, imaginative and worked well. The performers could scarcely be faulted. They made the very best of what they were given. Laurence Brownlee (Symes) and Diana Damrau (Gym Instructress/Drunken Woman) in particular, lit up the stage. The recorded Big Brother of Jeremy Irons was a masterstroke.

 

Photo: Clive Barda/ArenaPal

 

The prole music, easily tuneful and mindlessly worded was absolutely in keeping with the book  where the popular songs were written in random fashion by machine. This music actually worked quite well for me, especially “It was only an ‘opeless fancy” juxtaposed against children’s choruses of “ London Bridge is broken down” and “Burn the hag”. Although you could be forgiven for thinking you had strayed into a Lionel Bart musical. There was a slightly hammy but strangely effecting almost-duet with the wonderful prole contralto who was cleaning the windows of Charrington’s shop and Winston who was looking out of the top window to the streets below and speaking rather than singing of hope lying with the proles. Reminiscent of wartime propaganda films, which was no doubt the intention, this held more emotional resonance with me than all of the Winston/Julia interaction.

 

The major criticism is its lack of musical worth. It is described by many as being a pastiche of almost all 20th century composers; Berg, Korngold, Bernstein, Britten, Strauss, with a Puccini veneer. Maazal has no voice of his own. I could forgive that if the musical mish-mash was involving and true to the dramatic intent. Unfortunately I felt quite unconnected to large sections of the music. Although beautifully orchestrated, it felt like a rather intrusive and charmless film score. It was on occasions wholly inappropriate. “You have heard of room 101” sung at the most dramatically critical stage of Winston’s interrogation by O’Brien is a jaunty number. Why? It is in stark contrast to the two torture scenes between which it is sandwiched, which may have been Maazel’s intention, but destroyed the tension for me. In addition, O’Brien is obliged to sing nonsensical repeats during the song: “The thing in room 101, 1, 1...” (that’s room 10111 then?). You can see the mood it put me in.                                   Photo: Clive Barda/ArenaPal

This was the problem throughout the opera. A theme would start promisingly but not be developed, and there seemed an almost wanton destruction of dramatic tension in several of the scenes. This was most obvious in the relationship between Julia and Winston. Maazel stated that this was the central theme of the opera, and that the big ideas of the book would be subjugated to the more operatic device of a love story. Fair enough. You have to believe in their love, even if it is expedient rather than true love, if you are to believe in the relevance of their mutual betrayal. I do appreciate that in the book love is difficult for Winston and Julia (both emotionally and practically), but most of the attempts to convey this in the opera are ham-fisted.

The two opportunities to develop the love theme (in the belfry and above Charrington’s shop) failed. The belfry scene started off well “You hide what you have to” but the spell kept being broken either intentional or as in what follows, not. Winston & Julia are getting to know each other in the belfry, he lying on floor, she unbuttoning his shirt....

Winston: "Have you done this before"

(Julia nods)

Winston: "with party members?"

 

This of course paraphrases the book, where Julia is “a rebel from the waist down”, but what were the librettists thinking of..... You could feel the collective raising of eyebrows around the auditorium, and I’m afraid to say, hear some sniggering. The tension recovered a little after this, only to be broken again by the abrupt and slightly ludicrous appearance of O’Brien inviting them to his place.

The second opportunity to develop the love theme, in the room above Charrington’s shop, they are in their post-coital splendour, and what line is he given? “I dreamt of my mother”. If that doesn’t kill the moment I don’t know what does. Winston trying to remember his childhood and his mother is very important in the book, but this isn’t the book. Perhaps straying from Orwell’s precise wording and using a little artistic licence might have allowed a more subtle approach to the subject of mum.

 

 

 

Photo: Clive Barda/ArenaPal

 

The opera belonged to Simon Keenlyside. It is impossible to imagine who else could play Winston, but the role let him down. It says a lot for his vocal charm, acting skills and charisma that despite the opera’s shortcomings I found I that I cared what happened to him at the end.

 

Should CG have staged it? Certainly – but at the risk of sounding like a prole-song, you can’t win a coconut every time.

 

JW, May 2005

 

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