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Al-Ahram Weekly 4 - 10 May 2000 Issue No. 480 
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Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Al-Ahram Weekly 4 - 10 May 2000 Issue No. 480
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| Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Egypt Region International Economy Opinion Culture Special Features Travel Living Sports Profile People Time Out Chronicles Cartoons Letters Hi, mama, you look great tonight
By David Blake
Shahrazad, Cairo Opera Dance Theatre, choreography by Walid Aouni; music by Rimsky Korsakov, with Makamat by Naseer Shama, inside the Cairo Citadel, 26 April
This latest affaire Aouni is about Her -- every one knows who, the mother of us all. She in one of her heroic periods, Mameluke, Arab or plain fantastic -- in a dream mixing the effrontery of Agatha, the pathos of Wales and the mystery of Elephants -- is formed into a cortege of apparition splendour, surpassing anything Aouni has yet done. And he doesn't even quote himself in the show. It is fresh, alluring and irresistible to watch.
Shahrazad is a dream with a root into the past, but its body is firmly fixed in the streets of Cairo's present, with historic togs permitting the strutting and posturing which make the city's genuine colour. No one can make these movements but the young of the City of the Nile. Shahrazad is an ode to their unique beauty.
No time is any time here. Things are bad for mama. She's on her uppers again, but she and her brood still cut a figure in the avenue. Watch them. They haven't got a penny but just watch the outfits. They all know how to swing a leg with insolence that makes everyone deep green with envy. The show is deep green emerald anyway, full of inspiration and ideas which all work because of their sheer professionalism.
Aouni is a bit of De Mille, a dash of Ziegfeld of The Follies, early Bejart and a sudden shade of something dark, Fassbinder, and the rest is his own gleam of artistry. We love him most when he shows off his effects -- just because they are so clever.
This performance opens in what is a new area of the evergreen old citadel of Saladin, Sariat Al-Jabal. Tucked away in a curve of the labyrinthine streets which once were the heart and soul of Cairo is this place. Not large but sheltered from the ever-present wind, with no noise and walled in by the immemorial stones and rocks of the past. Domes, minarets and shapes of rock heave themselves out of the walls of the citadel, making an historic and extraordinarily beautiful setting for spectacles of every kind. It has a feel of the ancient coping with the present, like the Herod Atticus of Athens.
The performance began quietly with the Makamat of Naseer Shama. Almost a whisper of his modal variations on the sounds of Rmisky Korsakov. Shama's sounds are so beautiful it is a pity that they have to stop and melt into the real orchestral piece, which forms the substructure of the performance. But Shama is not done. His playing and weird lost tunes form a living part of Shahrazad.
photo: Sherif Sonbol
Figures soon appear -- male, female in gorgeous rags -- and so the movement. Aouni's choreography is very subtle. What you see is what you want to see. More than one thing happens at the same time. It is history, then or now. Memeluke or Kasr El-Nil after midnight.
Korsakov's music is used with great love, played with feeling for its pathos. Gone are the superhuman beings, shades of Tchernitshova and Eglevsky. But this Shahrazad has its own grandeur.
Aouni's creation flows on. If as you enter the theatre you happen to look straight up, left, the eye glides away up to the apex of two great walls, and way up there, in the shadows, is a presence. It looms like a bundle of rags, a man, a bat, a bird -- anyway a creature with a strong image -- the sex that got lost but ended up in bird-land.
Keep a watchful eye on the presence because, as the music settles into one of its huge climaxes, the presence rises, makes a few steps on the heights, disappears -- to emerge through an archway into the seething mass of dancers below. Shahrazad falls upon him. He is tall and beautiful. The crowd begin to peel off the black body tights he wears, only to reveal, not the expected, but another body stocking of flame red. He joins the dance, then seems to sprout wings, then flies majestically off into the dark -- a troubling image.
The costumes of this production are the best ever seen here on the stage since the opening of the new Opera House, and the dancers have been given a new choreography in which to display them. The men have crouching, jumping movements like baboons, primitive yet sophisticated and timeless.
The clothes, however, do not dominate the stage, the dance does. It is made of almost nonstop walking, interspersed with leaps, and the splendour of the colours makes living fire. One coat, worn by a pasha leaping down from the thrown, is early San Lauren. Such vigours of dance belong on the stage of the big opera house. Where was the opera when this was being planned? Did they not notice? The crowds seem to have heard Shahrazad because on the last night bedlam broke loose, with people attempting to get into the already packed theatre.
The costumes and decor were by Aouni, the lighting was by Yasser Shaalan, and the sound, always important in an Aouni production, was by Mahmoud Abdel-Latif. The general director of production was Yvette Issac, the assistant director Frederick Villant. Everything should be named because everything had the authentic imprint of care and love.
If you have a powerful bike, and it is a pleasant night, nothing could be better than to zoom and hum up to Sariat Al-Jabal, even if it is not Aouni. If it is, then get going.
Music for All VII, Mozart Requiem, the Cairo Opera Orchestra and the Bern Concert Choir (Switzerland); Taheya Shamseddin (soprano), Awatif El-Sharqawi (mezzo-soprano), Martin Hostettler (tenor), Ashraf Sewailam (bass), choir master Theo Loosli, conductor Sherif Mohieeddin, Cairo Opera House Main Hall, 28 April
There is something daunting about the Mozart Requiem. It is there in its place like the throne of God. It wards off all criticism, like water from the back of a great bird. It is proof against anything, even the supernatural, which has haunted it from the beginning -- Mozart and Salieri.
But the work has a mystery which defies even performance. Verdi, honest to the end, gave us in his Requiem battle to the very gates of paradise. Mozart, though often corpuscular, maintains hope, and we go to hold plain fields on wings of song, effortless and in a bright golden light at the finish of the Communio. Which has the greater appeal?
Mozart has no reservations, Verdi has. He demands more proof of eternal salvation, because he knows about damnation. Yet these unanswerable questions haunt both works. Our journey at this performance left the deep dark shadows to themselves. They came especially in the Sanctus and Mohieeddin piled up the power in majestic tone. The Rex Tremendae shone darkly, and we had the authentic Mozartian power as in Don Giovanni. For the rest, this reading kept a low key on drama, and we glided past the problems to be faced with a bit too much suavity.
The forces were powerful. The choir, after the so recent visit of the Honved Choir from Hungary, were short on rich base tone, but the high bright tones Mozart needs were crystal and flashing with a thrill that comes from their participation in opera.
The Cairo Opera Orchestra as usual made a good show and rose to the grandeur. The four soloists were in positive voice and the music they gave were the high spots of the performance.
Tahiya Shamseddin is a star-bright soprano, from the lowest notes to the highest awkward parts of the typical Mozartian intervals. All were done in perfect tune, with a perfect seamless scale and typical Mozartian style. This singer has many roles at the Cairo Opera ready for her. If not she will surely take flight.
Tenor Martin Hostettler was stylish, and so was Awatif El-Sharqawi. Ashraf Sewailam used his fast developing base voice which has increasing power at both ends, completely accurate pitch and lovely tone. Like the soprano, there are roles waiting for him in the opera. Hopefully the new repertoire will provide them.
These four more than performed their share in the Requiem. They really sang forth, making the performance a reality not a myth. Is this really a Requiem? It is easy to be impressed with it but not to love it. Maybe it is a welcome, not a farewell -- or both. This mystery Requiem kept its secret.
