And introducing ..............

Not that long after I arrived in Copenhagen, we were discussing the coming seasons' operas and for the 07/08 season there was to be a new Danish opera, entitled Brødrene Løvehjerte (the Lionheart Brothers). Unless I was mistaken, there appeared to be a more than the usual tingling of excitement amongst my colleagues when this one was mentioned. I tended to regard this new opera with the same wariness I regarded all new operas: that of one who has to tread forward in the dark, not knowing if firm ground will break the fall of one's step or whether a step forward will result in a descent into the abyss . At least with Poul Ruder's Processen I had heard of Kafka.

My quizzical look having been noted around the Department it did not take much time before some one took it on himself to enlighten me and introduce me to what I now understand to be one of the most sacred books in Scandinavian literature. My rather elementary Danish was even considered good enough that I be offered the book to read with the solemn warning: You won't get past Chapter One without crying. I looked. This was the Vice Opera Chef speaking to me ....in all seriousness.

A few weeks ago we were sitting in the Sang og Orkester rehearsal for Den Glade Enke(the "Sitzprobe" : where we all gather to sing through the opera we are currently rehearsing together, for the first time with orchestra in the orchestra's rehearsal room). It is customary to amuse oneself when not having to sing, by reading: a magazine, the paper or a book. At one point I turned to see a chorister getting started on Brødrene Løvehjerte - I smiled in acknowledgement - the fifth time I've read it, said the chorister. Ah, I thought, so you've got past Chapter One then and survived. Two of the soloists completed their duet and I turned around again. Despite having read the book five times, Chapter One had clearly had its effect again, as the said chorister was convulsed, mopping up streaming tears with the aid of a hanky.

Now we are in full flow with the staging rehearsals for this new piece. It has been composed by Joachim Holbek, more widely known for his work with TV and film music such as Riget, Manderlay and Breaking the Waves. This is his first opera. It is directed by Katrine Wiedemann. It is also her first opera. And at the moment we're at the stage where we are not quite sure what direction we're going in.

It often happens at this point in the rehearsal process: directors are for ever trying out new ideas, visualising new possibilities :


"What if ...."?,

"Can we just try ......?",

"How about .....?"

"Can we go back to the previous version?"

"The one where we turn on 3, look on 4 and sing on 7?" we cry.

"No, on the horn cue.............."

"There are three....."

"You will only be able to hear two" interjects the conductor trying to be helpful.

"Sorry, do I thrust my spear on 5 or 6?"

"You all thrust it on 4"

"But it's on 2 now, that first bar was cut"

In addition, with new pieces there are often rewrites: the composer rewrites bits of the music, changes things around, makes cuts, may be adds bits, who knows? What seemed a good idea at the time, in practice, just doesn't work.

With the benefit of hindsight, the premiere over and the piece now a stalwart in world musical theatre, to follow the bumpy ride toward the premiere in Paris or New York - the rewrites, cast walk outs and sudden deaths - makes for exciting reading. Where the number of new pieces any opera house puts on in a season rarely exceeds one these days, the opera singer can easily feel unsteady in the unchartered waters of a new piece. With the tried and trusted Traviatas and Bohèmes, despite any insecurites a director might create in his rehearsals, the singer can usually rely on the unflinching backup of the black dots on the white piece of paper - the Score - which can be stroked, cosetted and held to his bosom for moral and emotional support like a loyal friend.

But Løvehjerte is not tried and trusted. Not yet. And, as yet, we are not sure where our next step forward will take us.





Philip White