“Despite the quality of the production and the undeniable talent involved, it lacks an emotional connection with the audience.“ – Kate Stratford
3.5 voyages into the unknown
Below us sits a great behemoth. A continent of contradictions which both inspires and chills us, luring the adventurous with a siren song of terrifying unspoken promises. And recently, worryingly, a bellwether for climate change. It is now the subject of a new eponymous opera, a collaboration between the Sydney Chamber Orchestra and The Netherlands Asko|Schönberg for the Sydney Festival’s 2023 season.
Written by Mary Finsterer and Tom Wright, Antarctica eschews the usual operatic form with a largely monotone score and filmic presentation of metaphor and imagination. The production brings together a plethora of talent; from the virtuosity of the orchestra led by Jack Symonds, to the pure voices of the small cast and the stunning work by designers. Despite this, the work seems overwhelmed by the vastness of its subject. Dense but undifferentiated imagery vies with intent. Often ponderous, it moves with glacial pace and metaphors, such as childhood doors of mystery are laboured. Other metaphors are unresolved. If there are Chekhov gun moments, the trigger must be pulled.
A large light box cages the action, backed by a rear projection screen which variously displays longitude/latitude, identified Antarctic locations and excerpts from recent flooding events – harking to the melting, dissipating mystery of Antarctica. Elizabeth Gadsby’s set and costume design is on point and intriguing, but its use is unvarying and repetitive. As a live production, it is quite televisual. Video artist Mick Daly’s running text is a clever use of multi-media projection (a technique which seems to have become de rigueur in theatre recently) and sound designer Bob Scott’s finessing of equipment highlights the oceanic sounds of Finsterer’s composition. Siren like, the vocals remind the audience of the legends of mermaids luring mariners to their death. The percussive notes of the score evoke whale song and imagined undersea sounds.
Whilst the cast work very much as an ensemble, they are not allowed to do more than stand and deliver their pure vocals. Movement is both cumbrous and vague, encompassing the twin concepts of Antarctic grandeur and personal memory but it is static. Sometimes glaciers crack and fall violently; sometimes memories jump into recall in sharp relief. Antarctica can crush a ship in its icy jaws. In this 115-minute opera, the exposition takes 60 minutes and dramatic conflict when it does finally arrive, seems almost an afterthought. This is obviously a passion project for Finsterer and Wright, but a dramaturg may have helped shape their vast dream into a more engaging experience, where we identify with at least one of the characters drawn to the unknown. The individuals are there for us to tie our souls to– the daughter (Jane Sheldon), the theologian (Jessica O’Donoghue), the natural philosopher (Anna Fraser), Michael Petruccelli’s cartographer who deceitfully invents maps rather than charts them and an unwilling captain (Bob Scott) who lacking choice, is an unwilling captive of others’ dreams.
Despite the quality of the production and the undeniable talent involved, it lacks an emotional connection with the audience. Not everything in Antarctica moves at a glacial pace. It seems the vast, difficult and mysterious continent may have claimed another casualty.
Kate Stratford, Theatre Now
