Fanny and Alexander - Perhaps God doesn’t give a damn about any of us
“Perhaps God doesn’t give a damn about any of us” says the ten-year old Alexander. His anger is naked. The boy and his sister, Fanny, have reached the end of their tether. They have endured as much psychological and physical abuse as they can take. Their plight is starkly in contrast to the lavish Christmas celebrations and christening, in the opening scene of this opera, that premiered at La Monnaie in Brussels.
The curtain goes up to reveal a generous celebration, enjoyed by the Ekdahl family – a Swedish acting dynasty. The stage setting is minimalist. It accentuates the tight family bond – and especially the happy siblings – Fanny and Alexander. What is equally striking, in juxtaposition to the almost monochrome setting, is the depth of the music. This is a very modern opera. It harnesses state of the art technology. At the explanatory evening, a few weeks before the opening, Mikael Karlsson, the New York based, Swedish composer, explained his approach.
“I interlace the music from the orchestra with elaborate synthesised sound. The acoustic sound of the orchestra is married with the computer-based sound. This gives us a very dense tapestry of sound” he told us.
“This gives us very deep base resonance” chips in Royce Vavrek, the librettist. “…it generates a near physicality in the music.”
Merry Christmas – © Matthiaus Baus
Punished for the slightest infraction © Matthiaus Baus
Royce Vavrek is a Canada-born, Brooklyn-based librettist and lyricist who has been called “the indie Hofmannsthal” (The New Yorker) a “Metastasio of the downtown opera scene” (The Washington Post), “an exemplary creator of operatic prose” (The New York Times), and “one of the most celebrated and sought after librettists in the world” (CBC Radio).
Fanny and Alexander is based on a 1982 Swedish period movie. The film is considered to be the crowning work of the director Ingmar Bergman. The story line reveals a fly on the wall depiction of the Ekdahl family. They are steeped in the theatre world of early 20th-century Sweden. The opera version of the winner of four academy awards is not a faithful adaptation of the movie.
“We have used it as a canvas for big ideas” Vavrek says. The opera makes scant attempt at reproducing the visual symbolism in the cinematic version of Fanny and Alexander. Vavrek and Mikael Karlsson collude to bring the narrative into a modern context. For example, the internal conflict, faced in Act 2, by Emilie Ekdahl is lived out, day by painful day, in untold numbers of families on every continent. Emilie is the recently widowed mother of Alexander and his younger sister Fanny. She has succumbed to taking a new partner. Her new husband is a larger than life, charismatic personality.
However, all too quickly, her new husband, the Bishop Edward Vergerus turns out to be an abusive, manipulative, hypocrite. Emilie is broken by how her new relationship has impacted her children. She feels trapped because the bishop refuses to divorce her. Emilie confides her grief and pain to her mother-in-law, Helena.
“It is hostile for me, but worse for the children
they’re punished for the slightest infraction.
He was cleverer than me.
He dazzled me with attention.
Oscar was my best friend, but we never touched each other.
My body has often been very lonely…”
Helena’s counsel is unequivocal. “I reproach you for nothing, but it is clear you must leave him.” This is the clear fulcrum of this very dramatic work. Emilie is devoid of self-belief.
“I have asked for a divorce. He refuses…
He explains that legally I will lose. “Desertion” it is called.
Fanny and Alexander would be his to raise.
I have written in secret to my friend, a lawyer, who confirms it all.
I am locked in,
I can’t breathe.
I reproach you for nothing © Matthiaus Baus
Why are you so angry son? © Matthiaus Baus
Karlsson was called out for using invective in his libretto. He defended himself by saying that he wanted to show a real-life reaction. The words he puts into Alexander’s mouth are vile and unnecessary. It is implausible that expletives of this depravity would come from a ten-year-old. I feel that here he has failed to give us a believable Alexander.I worry this is goodbye.” Emilie wipes away twin waterfalls of tears. This scene is heartbreakingly moving. However, it weakens all attempts to bring this work into a current context. Legislation has changed. Women now enjoy far more protection in cases of domestic abuse and psychological coercion. Paradoxically, the pendulum has swung the other way. It is men who face desperately diminished parental rights in the event of divorce.Emilie makes no exaggeration. The impact of the oh so holy bishop is seen in the mind of the ten-year-old Alexander. Oscar, his deceased father enters into a metaphysical conversation with him.
“You said that when you die you go to God. Did you lie, father? asks a terrified Alexander
“I lived my life with you and Fanny and your mother. Death doesn’t change that” comes the replied from the beyond.
“Since you can’t help us, you might as well fly off to heaven and leave me alone!” says Alexander.
“Why are you so angry, son?
“Why don’t you go to God and ask him to kill the bishop? Or maybe God doesn’t give a damn about any of us.” Alexander snaps back.
This scene strikes a contemporary chord in the heart of every parent. The abuse of children, in the care of, supposedly, appropriate adults, has reached near Covid like proportions. Alexander, not yet a teenager, has been driven to the point of invoking God to kill the bishop. That a child should have these thoughts is unconscionable. That he should be brought to this point by a religious leader is unforgivable.
Emilie, with the support of Helena, her mother-in-law, from her first marriage, builds up the courage to confront the bishop. She lays before him her revulsion of his physical abuse of her son. The bishop is delusional. He sees himself as all powerful and entitled.
“You are deranged!” Emelie raises her voice.
“You are much less attractive when you are vulgar.” The bishop shows a near psychopathic lack of emotional intelligence.
“You locked him in the attic. You beat him!” Emilie is beside herself with rage.
“That’s the actress in you… Overdramatic! I punished him.”
“His skin has been stripped off. I could kill you!” cries the pregnant Emilie.
“You will harm the baby with such thoughts” The bishop resorts to emotional blackmail – still refusing to address the issue, let alone take responsibility. “What is to be done with a mother like that? The asylum. You must be careful for the sake of my unborn. Bow down. Bow yourself, Emilie. Bow now, under the power we both serve.”
Before Emilie can respond, the odious cleric leverages a cowardly attack. He invokes the authority of his elevated role. Additionally, he plays the “God is on my side” gambit.
“Welcome to reality. In this world, in this reality, Jesus Christ was tortured, crucified. Sacrifice Emilie! Bow down! Bow yourself, Emilie!” The overbearing head of the church goes in for the kill. “But you threaten me, my office, my relationship with the Lord through constant talk of divorce!” Emilie draws on every sinew of her being to defend her children. Her hatred for her husband is electric.
“There will come a day I will find a torture for you. A torment so horrible, only God can conceive of it. It will be a gift from God himself!” she promises.
Mark Montgomery with Royce Vavrek and Mikael Karlsson
Alexander and the Bishop © Matthiaus Baus
I will argue that this is the point where Vavrek could have injected invective to good effect. Curse words, no matter how foul, in the mouth of a woman fighting for the survival of her wronged offspring is more plausible than coming from the mouth of a ten-year-old. Truth be told, as this spectacle unfolded, I mouthed a few choice expletives of my own.
This opera distinguishes itself in several ways. First, it employs an ancient art form to showcase a very contemporary problem. Opera saw its genesis in Florence. An Avant Gard group of artists, statesmen, writers and musicians formed a creative group called the Florentine Camerata.
This band of brothers, and perhaps sisters, experimented with the recreation of the storytelling of Greek drama through music. The first composer to raise his head above the creative parapet was Jacopo Peri. In the 1590s, Peri built a working relationship with Jacopo Corsi. Fortuitously, Corsi was the leading patron of music in Florence. The two Jacopos believed that the then contemporary art was inferior to classical Greek and Roman creative expression. They endeavoured to recreate Greek tragedy, as they understood it.
Their work was embraced by the Florentine Camerata. This organisation was first to experiment with monody – a musical expression that favoured the solo song style over continuous bass. This was, eventually, to develop into recitative and aria. The two Jacopos enlisted the poet Ottavio Rinuccini to write a text for a musical production. The fruit of the collective labour was Dafne, composed in 1597, – considered to be the first work in a new art form called opera.
Most of us would probably consider opera to be an ancient art form, and correctly so. However, Vavrek and Karlsson have taken the active ingredients of this discipline and infused it with state-of-the-art technology. Their wall of sound, the lighting, the staging are as up to date as tomorrow’s headlines.
Secondly, in their cosy “Meet the Composer” soiree, they lay their cards on the table. They unequivocally announced that they wanted to “Create a canvas for big ideas.” To my mind, they have succeeded admirably. They have cast a light on topics such as Child Abuse, People Trapped in Abusive Relationships as well as The Misuse of Power and Authority by People with a Duty of Care.”
It is my long-held contention that the role of the artist is three-fold. 1 – The artist must be the custodian of the memories of society. 2 – The artist must interpret society to itself. 3 – The artist must be the conscience of society. In this work, Vavrek and Karlsson step forward to interpret our society to us. They ask the question “Is this how we want to live?” More importantly, they stand as the conscience of society. They are advocates for everyone who has found themselves at the depths of despair. They are the voice of each of us who have dared say “Perhaps God doesn’t give a damn about us”. Their response is “Yes, there is hope.”
New Beginning © Matthiaus Baus
