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Al-Ahram Weekly 22 - 28 July 1999 Issue No. 439 
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Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Al-Ahram Weekly 22 - 28 July 1999 Issue No. 439
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| Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Egypt Region International Economy Opinion Culture Profile Features Focus Interview Travel Living Sports Time Out Chronicles People Cartoons Letters Hook, line and sinker
By David Blake
Banat Al-Nil Troupe; Cairo Opera House, Open Air Theatre; 16 July.
Have you any time left for poetry? Maybe not, though certainly you should find time to catch the Nile sisters on the manic box or better yet, view them through the humid steam of a July night, in the laughably misnamed open air space at the opera. It is, of course, really a hammam.
But braving the Bain Turc at the Opera has its bonuses, not least the garden. Does anyone any more look at the Opera House gardens? Now, before the great scorch of the late summer, they are at their best, the lawns perfectly tailored with just that touch of informality which bespeaks a true gardening spirit. Beds of zinnia glow in the late sun and the trees are free flowing, mercifully untouched by the pruning fetishists.
The gardens are a Cairene treasure to be guarded, though wandering through them begs the question -- what is inside the house they surround? And the answer is nothing. The opera is being put through its annual dry cleaning operation, and is more or less out of commission until autumn.
Outside, though, and the gardens host the Banat Al-Nil Troupe, 17 young women who progress through the popular songs of past generations. The girls are good musicians: they can produce atmosphere and their versions of the songs of the great are often transformingly evocative.
Their audience appeal crosses all barriers and they remain, as performers, neither elitist or cultish. Dressed in black costumes they neither solicit their audience nor pull their repertoire around to suit fashion. Maybe the classical world barely notices them, but they have an authentic tone of voice and style which gives them a unique sound -- the tempo, orchestral arrangements and performance, plus sharply economical settings, give the Banat an interesting place in Cairo's musical life.
The kids took over the theatre, stage and auditorium, and let loose their sheer pleasure at the Sayed Darwish operetta
photo: Sherif Sonbol
Innovations for the inundation -- how to survive. They offer richesse, but like so many of their colleagues, don't know what do with it. Evanescence suits them. They seem to have answered all the riddles of the oracle and their songs have a salutary ring: the tunes suggest history, change, war, mayhem or peace of a kind. Life flows evenly enough for the sisters' visions, but it's a hard, unrelenting rhythm.
Not for nothing are they called Banat Al-Nil. These Norn-like sisters offer joy, misfortune and escape, but are not without hope. The tunes are themselves part of an uneasy miracle, the recent history of Egypt. The Nile girls are not as simple as they often sound. Like the Nile they have always looked the same, but of course they are not. The tunes they perform are sufficiently well-known to need no introduction -- they are as ubiquitous, as ever-present, as the Nile.
The loveliest were the most nostalgic. It is difficult with such famous songs as these. Big Nile, Hudson River or Danube -- there comes a time when repetition has taken the shine off them. It takes clever players to wriggle free from the carapace of fame which imprisons such music and set it free to glow again as if new. This the Banat do.
They stood up in the last part of the concert, when the heat had obviously wilted audience and players. The wind had gone, the air grew heavier. But the Banat played on well beyond exhaustion's breaking point.
Sayed Darwish anniversary; operetta honouring his 109th birthday; Cairo Opera House, Small Hall, 15 July
It is impossible to become more famous than Sayed Darwish. He is fanan el-sha'b -- the Nation's troubadour. His songs have gone all over the world. They are Egypt. Like Gershwin he wrote about everything -- war, peace, love, honour and tragedy. And with all these gifts he did not stay long. The sound of the songs is history, sometimes awful, heroic and stirring. The music itself is composed of bright, fresh and easily remembered tunes which carry, as songs rarely do, the sound of history. This commemorative operetta has never been done at the opera before and the opera itself will never forget it. Suddenly the Small Hall appeared no more than a matchbox. The sheer noise, love and energy it contained was astonishing.
The performance was done almost entirely by children aided in some of the adult roles by professionals. The production was a backdrop to the singers -- mass running, jumping and sheer noise which exploded when the show opened. It was like an old-fashioned review. The songs were wedded to a sort of narrative -- rowdy, high and low. The kids took over the theatre and let loose their sheer pleasure at being able to be noisy and useful at the same time. Everyone danced and sang, the elocution was clear and the words could have been heard in the big conference hall, as could have the voices.
The singers held it all together. The comedy scenes were amusing, never childish. In fact it was never tiny tot. Not one child was cute or twee. On the contrary they were perfectly attuned to both music and words. Some small girls would poke their heads out from the mêlée of movement, and sing forth with well-trained theatrical voices.
The chief singer, a boy, managed the big numbers with a stentorian tenor soprano whose loudness and perfect tunefulness, when he began, positively shocked. The Small Hall was hopping.
What is this? Where do all these young people come from and go to? Why do none of these voices ever come to the opera? This new opera has much greater importance than its predecessor. It was nice to have legends about the house, but memory has overrated it all.
What the present house lacks is a heart. Outside nature has had her way and at the moment the outside is better than the inside. Maybe a new Kubla Khan will come and give Cairo, the mother of all cities, the pleasure dome she really deserves -- an opera house full of opera.
In the meantime the flowers are lovely.
