Sex and surrealism meet in a hilarious tale of love and war

ANY eccentric creative with a hefty commission and several hours can come up with a vision so extraordinary that six accomplished opera singers don’t understand it. It takes a certain kind of brilliance to trust your instincts, put it before an audience, and hear the crowd explode into peals of laughter. That’s what Christopher Alden did when he set about reviving Handel’s lost opera, the witty comedy Partenope.  

“Christopher brought quite a frightening intensity into the room, coupled with a bewildering vision that none of us understood at first,” explains Kanen Breen, who plays the mysterious Man Ray-inspired figure of Emilio. 

“It just seemed so haphazard and random. And yet, somehow in what seemed like idiocy was this extraordinary vision that none of us felt coalescing, until the audience came along and saw something that we weren’t seeing.” 

Emma Matthews interrupts: “It was genius.” 

“Once we realised that they were actually going to come along for the ride,” Kanen continues, “we suddenly went ‘Oh! This is hilarious!’”

And indeed it is: a witty mix of black parody and tangled love stories against a backdrop of the glitzy Belle Epoch. 

At three and a half hours, it’s a huge achievement for director Christopher Alden to still be getting laughs in the third act. And judging from the amount of laughter passing between cast members backstage, it is also hilarious to perform. 

Vulgar moves and clever innuendos add another layer of comedy to the opera, but star Catherine Carby insists that it isn’t sex that sells Alden’s Partenope. “It’s the wit and the charm of it. Even when they’re being a little bit rude, the characters are quite charming.”

Kanen's character gets a lot of the action on stage, so it’s no surprise that he’s the first to find the innuendo in every line. “I think Christopher was very clever to find all of the sex in it. Looking at the way it was originally written, I defy anyone to have found that much smut.” 

The role of the sexy Partenope was a welcome challenge for Emma, who is known for her heart-rending portrayals of victims. “It’s nice to turn it on and play someone strong. But she has her weak moments, her insecurities. She’s a really nice imbalanced, balanced character,” Emma explains. 

“It’s a bit terrifying sometimes, you think ‘Oh God, I have to do the sexy thing!’ But it is great fun, and being surrounded by people that you trust and love, it’s really nice. It’s a safe environment. The audience are just looking in.”

These six performers are good friends and seasoned cast-mates, with four of the cast reprising roles from the Sydney production. Newcomer Victoria Lambourn rehearsed as a cover during the last show, so even her new Rosmira was an easy fit.

“It feels very intimate,” says Christopher Field. “The set is intimate. Until you look out, it almost feels like we’re in a house party – we’re just interacting and doing stuff like pouring a drink, making tea.”

But Alden didn’t let anyone get too comfortable. Both Christopher and Kanen were required to perform their arias in unusual positions. “Hanging off a banister while not having your feet on the ground, not having anything to hold you ... it’s a little bit out of the ordinary,” Christopher says. 

The counter-tenor performs his first show-stopping piece on his back on a circular staircase. “It’s also quite dangerous, because those stairs are quite sharp. I can show you how painful it is,” he says, clutching his belt buckle. “It’s all purple under there! “

With just six people on stage, there’s no hiding among the Chorus or taking a break from the spotlight.  “It’s more like a play,” explains Emma. “All the recits are so sharp, you have to be really aware of what everyone else is saying. You come in and it’s conversational. You have to be switched on, you can’t disappear for a second.”

Even the arias require a different approach to your average opera, Emma says. “Arias in Handel aren’t like arias in Verdi, where every single emotion is a real truthful emotion of that second. It’s an expanded kind of reality but you’re not playing a literal interpretation of every single line, because it’s impossible."

Catherine laughs. “Otherwise you’d be doing ‘I’m so sad, I’m so sad, I’m so sad’ for four and a half minutes.”

There’s no respite from hard work just because the opera is in English, either. “You have to do a lot more, because every word has to be understandable,” says Emma, recalling hours and hours of working on diction. “If you’re singing in English, there’s no excuse not to be understood. And it’s hard with Handel because you have these long coloratura passages. I’ve got the word heart and I take about five minutes to say it. And the next time I sing it I put my hand over my heart, just so it’s ab-so-lute-ly clear.” 

The suggestive choreography is bound to raise a few eyebrows, but that’s all part of the fun, Emma says. “That’s our job: to make it fun, to make it believable. If we offend people, we’re very sorry, but that’s part of the art form in here.” Emma doesn’t look sorry at all. “We’re supposed to stir people up a bit.”