Welcome changes
Painting, literature and, once again, Amal Choucri Catta
Between Dusk and Dawn and Banat Bahari : Egyptian Dance Theatre Company, choreographer Walid Aouni, music by Nader Abbasi, Cairo Opera House Main Hall, 7-8 Jan, 8pm. Opera Miramar (based on the Naguib Mahfouz novel), libretto by Sayed Hegab, composer and conductor Sherif Mohieddin, director Mohamed Abul-Kheir, with Bibliotheca Alexandrina Chamber Orchestra and Cairo Opera Choir, Cairo Opera House Main Hall, 11-12 Jan, 8pm
Once again the stage was dark as Walid Aouni, in black attire, uncovered a giant version of Mahmoud Said's renowned painting City, better known as Banat Bahari, at the centre of which three traditionally dressed Alexandrine beauties look out to the viewer. That night, however, they had disappeared from the canvas, leaving a large white space across which Aouni, with the aid of feeble, old- fashioned lamp, is looking for their whereabouts. One by one he brings them back to where they belong, then goes off stage. Left to their own devices, in their multicoloured dresses, each wrapped in a black melaya laff, the girls treat the audience to a delightful Oriental dance performance before they returned to their positions on the canvas.
It was this brief but charming prelude that preceded Between Dusk and Dawn -- an altogether successful and worthy event. Both prelude and show premiered in September 2005 and were repeated in September of the same year. That night while Banat Bahari, the prelude, had undergone little change, Between Dusk and Dawn had undergone several, largely favourable transformations enhancing its already considerable impact. A tremendous spectacle indeed: basing his efforts on Nader Abbassi's colourful and expressive music, Aouni delved, once again, into his very own world of symbols and enigmas, expressing a personal, intense vision of the psychic evolution of humanity through colour and motion, light and sound, and emblems of the four elements -- the good earth, air, water and fire supplemented by the procreative circle.
The scene opens with the deafening sound of the Big Bang hurling its formidable energy into timeless space and onto a small group of wretched survivors. They form a circle of forsaken bodies that have somehow outlived the universal cataclysm of worlds in collision. As the din and the dust subside and the eerie light of a new dawn cloaks the stage, the survivors try to find their way into the new world. They have lost their memory of past lives and are trying to rediscover their egos, their neighbours, their surroundings. Thus 18 performers reincarnate Adam and Eve, Cain and Abdel, and while woman discovers man, man woman, they are seeking out their feelings and their link to the earth and those aspects of it that surround them.
The entire evolution from a primitive state to one in which they have become, once again, elaborately learned men and women, is conveyed by a variety of choreographic formations and solo dances -- as well as sequences simultaneously performed by different individuals. Lights play an important part in this show: grey and sad, or else colourful and strong, they are always in perfect harmony with the mood of the stage. Thus when the survivors discovered love, the lights became soft and filled the space with intimate shadows.
But love did not always prevail, nor did the intimacy. Soon enough, while they discovered rain and sunshine, thunder and lightning, and the seasons -- and each was granted its own luminosity on stage -- the survivors also discovered jealousy and hatred. In the end they came upon purity in the soil, inside the dark earth. There was, as there always has been in Aouni's spectacles, a sincere wish for peace and security, for a place somewhere -- of a place somewhere in some remote corner of the globe where people could pursue their dream of love and everlasting friendship. In the briefest time, between dusk and dawn, their hearts are filled with hope; and while they are dancing to ritual springtime music, they find peace. Or do they?
Since his first production for the Cairo Opera House, 17 years ago, Aouni has expressed his wish for peace and friendship among individuals, peoples and countries alike. His dances are filled with hope and joy, revealing a remarkable degree of optimism; his choreography is harmonious and brilliantly expressive. This time, thanks in large part to the changes made, the spectacle was even more powerful in conveying that spirit: remarkable dancing, perfect synchronisation and an altogether ravishing experience that remained nonetheless open- ended, leaving the audience, who thoroughly enjoyed it all, to decide on peace and love for themselves.
Another spectacle that mustn't go unnoticed is doubtless the Arabic Opera Miramar which, premiered in 2005 in Alexandria and at Cairo's Gumhouriya Theatre, also underwent some welcome changes for this Main Hall performance.
This is the first Egyptian opera with a contemporary plotline; previous efforts -- Sayed Awad's Cleopatra's Death, Aziz El-Shawan's Anas El-Wugoud and Antara -- favoured historical themes. On this occasion, with the well-known vernacular poet Sayed Hegab's libretto, carefully adapted from Naguib Mahfouz's novel itself, there is lively music by Sherif Mohieddin -- an interesting medley of Bach and Stravinsky with modal music on Arab instruments and lovely Egyptian style of singing.
It is an altogether new kind of opera, neither Bel Canto nor operetta, less elaborate than conventional opera but rather more elaborate than operetta per se. This young composer-conductor has always been known for his new novel musical ideas and his courageous innovations. Several years ago he surprised everyone with his interesting and largely unprecedented creation, Three Operas in One Hour -- not only accepted but deeply appreciated in due course.
Now he came up with Miramar. Turning the novel into a musical and vocal performance can't have been easy, not least because there are in the story eight subplots concerning eight residents of the Hotel Miramar -- all male -- with the main plotline, Zohra's fortunate and unfortunate adventures with men, at times loses its force. Walid Korayyim in the role of Amer, Reda El-Wakil as Tolba Bey, Emad Adel as Aly Bakir, Abdel-Wahab El-Sayed, Mustafa Mohamed, Elhamy Amin, Tamer Tawfik and Hisham El-Guindy playing the remaining guests were perfect. The ladies, for their part, were equally delightful: Taheya Shamseddin as Zohra, Inji Mohsen as Dorreya, Jolie Faizy as Aleya, Jihan El-Nasser as Safeya and Nevine Allouba as Marianne, the Greek proprietor of the hotel.
Clearly, however, such a large number of characters leaves little scope for long individual arias such as Hosny's in Act One or Mansour's in Act Two. In the end Zohra's ultimately unfortunate charisma results in all the males revolving around her, some with brotherly, fatherly or rather amorous intentions -- the latter being the drive of the vast majority by far. At last she packs her belongings and leaves, singing a song of the wide, wide world which is no longer the same, "and we are not the same", she sings, "It is God's will, or is it our sins catching up with us?" Compared to other arias, the song is rather long and monotonous -- repetitive. Best actress, best singer, best interpreter all undoubtedly go to Nevine Allouba: with her white wig and her inimitable perfectionism, she was a beautiful incarnation of the old lady who was sincerely trying to please everyone but seldom succeeding.
Sets and costumes were excellent, though the lighting was insufficiently eloquent -- with the lights of the instrumentalists' scores often interfering with the viewing experience. Certainly the orchestra pit should be a few inches lower to delimit the audience's visual access to the orchestra while granting them a better view of the stage. But in the end it must be conceded: soloists, choir, dancers and everyone else have all done an excellent job. As for the maestro, there should be no end to the applause granted him for his creativity and courage.
photo: Sherif Sonbol
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