| FEATURE STORY |
| Mark Morris' cutting edge King Arthur invades Berkeley |
| by Julia Pascal |
Music, dance and theater melded to modernize a 17th century classic.
LONDON -- How dare Mark Morris direct King Arthur?
This was the unspoken criticism underlying a couple of English opera reviews
in June. What's an American, who dared to dance Dido as a transvestite,
doing messing with the most English of operas?
This Arthurian icon was written in 1691 as a political act to celebrate 25 years of Charles II's reign. Henry Purcell wrote the music and John Dryden the play. Though rarely performed, it has a deeply symbolic place in the center of the English psyche. It is rooted in battles between Britons and their ancient enemies. It evokes the Round Table, the Holy Grail, and the courtly love affair of Lancelot and Guinevere.
Although Morris briefly spoofs the battles, he ignores the
rest of the historical links; he junks the play and cuts the running time
in half. Morris tells the BBC, "The play is boring." He replaces
it with vaudeville. The critics are split. The Financial Times
and the Daily Telegraph dislike Morris' anarchic vision; The
Guardian and The Times adore it.
Apart from throwing out the text, how does Morris offend
purists? He makes King Arthur a postmodern work. He calls it "a
sequence of production numbers sacred and profane.'' Certainly there is
no linearity. Morris claims Purcell's music and Dryden's words as his playground.
The visuals appear to be cut and pasted. Audiences expecting consistency, or a sense of directorial narrative, find themselves disappointed. For although Morris is utterly faithful to Purcell's music, his vision of Arthurian England is 21st century.
During the premiere in late June, England was still alive in the World Cup and the entire nation was awash with the jingoistic red and white cross of St. George's flag. But Morris' production, in conjunction with the English National Opera, flew no flags. When the puffed-up nationalism of Purcell's music filled the auditorium of the London Coliseum, Morris counterbalanced English narcissism. He never even offered a King Arthur. There was a guy in army pants, goggles, and a gold lamé jacket. Was he the royal? No. He was just a spoof sporting a neat Mizrahi costume.
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