Organized religion's failings laid bare in 'Greek Passion' International Herald Tribune 26-November-08 by George Loomis From a state of apparent harmony, battle lines are drawn quickly in Bohuslav Martinu's opera "Greek Passion." On a sunny Easter morning, Grigoris, the priest in the village of Lycovrissi during the Turkish occupation of Greece, announces the cast for next year's Passion Play: the shepherd Manolios will play Christ, Katerina (the local prostitute), Mary Magdalene, and assorted other villagers the roles of three Apostles and Judas. When refugees driven from their homes by Turks seeks refuge in Lycovrissi, Grigoris rebuffs them; by contrast, Manolios - beginning to exhibit qualities of his assigned role - tells them to settle at a place outside the village. "Greek Passion," now at the Zurich Opera House in a gripping new production, involves an odd kind of play-within-a-play in which the actors come to portray their roles in real life. And this means that religious authority is challenged by an upstart. "Greek Passion" resulted from the attraction that the novels of Nikos Kazantzakis held for Martinu, an expatriate Czech who moved to the United States during World War II, returning to Western Europe years later. Martinu initially thought of making an opera of "Zorba the Greek" but concluded it was unsuitable. (One wonders whether he might have reconsidered had he lived to see Mihalis Kakogiannis's film version.) The choice then fell to "Christ Recrucified," from which the composer, abetted by the novelist, made his own libretto. Much fell by the wayside during the pruning process, including local color. Martinu's village could be anywhere: in his homeland, for instance, or in the Sicily of "Cavalleria Rusticana," the prototype of Italian Verismo - an influence "Greek Passion" did not escape - and an opera that also takes place on Easter Sunday. Jorge Jara's costumes for the Zurich production are plausibly of the present day, and Hans-Dieter Schaal's rotating unit set - two facades of a dark, nondescript building joined in an L-shape and propped up by wooden beams - proves aptly nonspecific. In a program interview, the producer Nicolas Brieger quotes Thomas Hobbes: "Man is naturally a wolf to men," here demonstrated by Grigoris's coldheartedness to the refugees' plight and ultimately by Manolios's excommunication and murder. Martinu was devoutly religious, yet "Greek Passion" lays bare the inadequacy of organized religion while portraying Manolios and the other Passion players as motivated by a force for good that remains unexplained. This is why it is such a compelling drama regardless of one's religious perspective. But it is also pessimistic, as Brieger, in his effective staging, makes clear in the excommunication scene. The people, initially shocked by Grigoris's action, nevertheless submit to him, lining up across the stage and singing "Kyrie eleison" as if in denunciation of the Apostles, who face them with backs to the audience. But there is a glimmer of hope at the end when, after everyone has departed except for Katerina and the Apostles, who are gathered around Manolios's body, two newlyweds remain behind as well, seemingly transfixed. The current production is a homecoming for "Greek Passion," which had its world premiere at the Zurich Opera House (then called the Zurich City Theater) in 1961, two years after Martinu's death. Martinu's score is no product of Modernism, although he did not shy from dissonance at key moments. But it also partakes of music inspired by Greek chant and, even more prominently, music that is distinctively Czech in melodic and rhythmic makeup. Some passages have a warm, hymn-like glow that creates a sense of transcendence. This is music that can readily be appreciated by an audience, but you never feel Martinu is pandering because it seems so genuine in its simplicity and corresponds so closely to what the drama calls for. Roberto Saccà, an Italian tenor esteemed in Mozart and Verdi roles, sings with handsome tone and musicianly polish as Manolios, while suggesting the personal upheaval of the shepherd who is called to be greater than himself. The soprano Emily Magee strikingly charts Katerina's progress from one who craves Manolios physically to one who becomes his spiritual follower, and she sings with a voice of ravishing luster. Alfred Muff, decked out in full liturgical regalia, projects Grigoris's sternness, while Pavel Daniluk sings potently as Grigoris's counterpart, Priest Fotis, leader of the refugees. Rudolf Schasching is touchingly ingenuous as the postman assigned to play Peter. The young conductor Eivind Gullberg Jensen sets well judged tempos and succeeds in evoking the score's spiritual dimension. The production basically follows Martinu's revised version of the score, as originally performed in Zurich; but it incorporates elements from the reconstructed initial version with narrator, originally destined for Covent Garden and eventually seen there and in Bregenz in the past decade. In any case, "Greek Passion" is well worth a visit. [back to reviews]