Brilliant chamber opera honours the fallen

Brass Poppies
Composer, Ross Harris
Libretto, Vincent O’Sullivan
Auckland Arts Festival
Mercury Theatre
March 10

When New Zealand went to war in 1914, many New Zealanders believed that their country had no real history compared to Europe, that this country was not yet a true nation and that its future importance and glory was yet to come.  The Gallipoli campaign changed that, creating the defining moment for New Zealand as a new nation with a history aligned to the other great nations of the world.

But that attainment of nationhood came at a cost in lives and changes to the social structures of New Zealand, changing the lives of all.

Much has been written about that time of dramatic change and there have been many books film and TV dramas that attempt to condense and comprehend what happened.

The new opera, Brass Poppies, is another attempt to provide answers. Written by Vincent O’Sullivan, with music by Ross Harris, it extracts a few defining moments of our history in the journey of the Wellington Regiment from its embarkation to its assault on Chunuk Bair.

The work goes beyond the front page accounts of the war, beyond the platitudes of fighting for King and Country. It is an attempt to discern the ways in which individuals dealt with their own situations, often not having the words to describe their idea or feelings.

The work features four soldiers including  commanding officer William Malone and their wives and sweethearts. Through them we experience the distress of leaving love ones through to the trauma of living on the battlefield through to their fatal day on Chunuk Bair.

In the opening sequence we see the men and women at a dance where both speak about their expectations, fears and excitement. But, during the dance, two ghostly soldier figures intrude on the dance providing a premonition of what is to come. An enigmatic Turkish soldier makes us aware of the other side in the coming battle.

The opera emophasisi the role of women, not just as partners of the men but those who hold the memories of loved ones and who are as much a part of the Anzac spirit and legend as the soldiers who died.

Ross Harris’ score provided the emotional mood and atmosphere to the work, combining martial tunes, music of the time and a lively edginess like the dreamlike music of Italian film music composer Nino Rota.

The orchestra, Stroma New Music Ensemble whose members were dressed in army uniforms added to the slightly surreal nature of the work, playing a range of instruments. Some were of a martial nature – cornets and percussion, classical – coranglais and bassoon and popular ones – acoustic guitar and accordion as well as the inclusion of a Turkish drum – the dumbek.

They were ably led by conductor Hamish McKeich who never used the orchestra to overpower the singers but used the players to provide a strong atmosphere.

This impeccable linkage between singers and orchestra applied to the other areas of the production – choreography Maaka  Pepene, audio visuals Jan Baxter), lighting Jason Morphett, costumes (Elizabeth Whiting) and direction by Jonathan Alver.

Alver moved the cast as though they were on a set of manoeuvres following a sequence of moves, to give the work the appearance of an elaborate dance.

The photographs and moving images projected onto panels was effective in linking the characters to a wider historical sweep of history.

The singers gave real depth to the production with a mixture of realist and stylised acting and presentation. They ably portrayed character and emotion through their singing and recitative. Anna Leese (Mary) delivered some exquisite moments while Sarah Court as Mrs Malone was impressive particularly in the second act where her strident voice provided a mixture of anger and resilience.

The four male singers each managed to portray characters with different emotions and motivations, creating a real sense of brotherhood and tension.

The dreamlike quality of the production emphasises dreams of what may come and nightmares of was has happened. This was conveyed with a mixture of memories and reflection and remembrances. The idea of remembrance was apparent in the very first moments of the work when the four soldiers march on stage and stand at attention on small plinths turning themselves into Anzac memorials.

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