Dreadful, awful.

Why do directors do it? Because they can I suppose.

I have seen plenty of poor productions in my time, up till recently the worst production of anything I have ever seen was at, of all places, Covent Garden. The Tristan and Isolde that I saw a few years ago consigned the two principals to red and white boxes, similar in size to the sort of containers that are shipped all over the world. Tristan did leave his box at the end (I can’t remember which colour was assigned to whom) but Isolde was stuck in hers for the duration. All the love music in the second act was sung without touching, I can’t remember many other details other than the men’s chorus came on to sing at the end of Act I will megaphones. It was frightful, but not offensive. I applauded at the end but not with much enthusiasm. As I recall the Isolde was very good, but the Tristan was a stand in and could not really cope with the role. It is a killer and I felt sorry for the poor fellow.

The production was silly, stupid perhaps. It certainly did not pay any attention to the intentions of the composer and librettist (the same person in this opera of course). But it was not offensive. I have just seen the most offensive piece of theatre that I have ever experienced. Something that not only reverses the intentions of the composer and librettist but twists and mangles them to such an extent that I was genuine upset as well as offended.

Bluebeard’s Castle with music by Bela Bartok and libretto by Bela Balazs takes the myth of the Bluebeard legend and adds a twentieth century twist. It is not easy to explain what the opera is about, but to me it is clear Bluebeard and Judith are deeply in love. From here on in I think every individual has to decide for themselves what is going on, this does leave the piece open to alternative interpretations. Perhaps Bluebeard has been damaged, as Judith opens each of the first five doors she finds blood on whatever is in there. At the opening of the 5th door Bluebeard rejoices, happy that Judith has brought light to his castle. He begs her not to open any more, and this for me is where the heart of the story lies. He knows that going further will damage both of them, but Judith is not able to stop and their relationship crumbles.

To turn this into a story about recent mass murderers and criminals is so absurd and hateful that I can’t believe anyone who listened to the ravishing music in the final scenes could ever consider it. This music moves me to tears, now it is spoilt, probably forever.

I feel betrayed. A hooligan, a vandal, a moron has disfigured something beautiful. A great gash has been cut in the face of a beautiful and much admired friend. I will not be able to forgive Daniel Kramer and his cronies for the offence they have caused. I will never attend another of his productions. I don’t really want to set foot in the home of the ENO ever again, the thought of doing so sickens me.

For the first time ever I regret to have to say than on the 6th November 2009, I am genuinely sorry that I went to the opera.