“Kommilitonen! Kommilitoninnen!”,
It is hard to believe a year has passed since one of the best weeks I’ve ever had.
Kommilitonen! was something special. I think we all knew that from the very beginning. As soon as Polly Graham said the words ‘promenade’ and ‘site specific production’ in the same sentence, I was hooked. The concept was like all of my Christmases come at once; an opera in a venue with history and character, where the audience move around the theatre space to witness three highly emotive stories, all told simultaneously, and performed by a cast of young singers taking on multiple roles as both soloists and chorus members. It’s exactly the kind of theatre that I love to watch and that I enjoy making. Being involved in such a project, I felt and knew that I was one of the luckiest people on the planet (or, if that’s too grand a statement, at the very least in Wales).
I talked about most things Kommilitonen! in my 2016 round-up post, which probably do not bear repeating in full here; it included the ins and outs of the assistant director job: the logistics, the ‘this is what we did!’s, and the broad overview of six months of work. But it’s interesting looking back and pondering, ‘What do I remember?’ and ‘What have I taken away from this experience?’. The answer, it would seem, is a lot of positivity.
There was a brightness to life in general, which skirted around the edges of the project. July 2016 was the beginning of a proper summer – a hot month, occasionally stormy, but for the most part sweet and dry weather. I say this, despite the fact that I spent 50% of the 31 days inside a building which didn’t let in natural light (the building in question being the Memo Arts Centre in Barry; our home from around 12th July 2016), so my account may not be the most trustworthy! I loved the routine and sunshine, and there were many pockets of happiness in between: early mornings wandering the streets of Cardiff (probably listening to ‘Friends’ by Francis and the Lights) before heading off to Barry; sitting on the tiny plot of grass beside the theatre with cast, crew, tech, and production team alike, eating food from the Morrisons salad bar in almost picnic-like style, as the sun was soaked in and hunger satiated; on a few quieter afternoons, sneaking into the rehearsal room at the top of the Memo to practice my singing (usually opting for some Mozart or Verdi); or, at the weekend, enjoying a glass of wine (or two!) with new and good friends after a week of hard work. The little, almost insignificant details are memories I hold dear.
And then there was the show itself. I don’t think I talked much in my previous post about what the show actually was, or the kind of reaction it evoked. It was a roller coaster of emotions, laced with humanity in all its forms – united friends, broken families, strength, resilience, love, hatred, politics, violence, humour, contemplation of our actions… whether that be on an individual or global scale. There was so much crammed into a relatively short work, and Polly and Jo Fong (along with the countless incredible designers and technicians who worked on the piece) encouraged images and ideas that further developed those already complex themes. It’s no surprise that those who saw the show commented afterwards that they were swept up in the drama of it all – taken along by the current and spat out into the great sea at the other end.
Each story contained light and dark (brilliantly evoked in Max’s music); I often still find myself absentmindedly humming the story of the rabbits – a whimsical, American-influenced tune, sung by the American Civil Rights activist James Meredith and used to tell a somewhat disturbing parable. Or, then again, I will find myself imagining the incredible juxtaposition of sheer excitement and horror at witnessing the murder of the professors during the Chinese Cultural Revolution scenes, or the horrifyingly electric finale of Act I when the statues of Chairman Mao were raised. Or perhaps I see the White Rose at their typewriters, or a soiree, or hurling leaflets from the monolith of a set…
This was history, yes, but so much of current world politics was mirrored within certain images and themes, and made Kommilitonen! staggeringly relevant.
And what music it contained, too; a gloriously eclectic mixture of styles and influences, from traditional Chinese music, to Mozart-esque ditties, jazz-infused trios, American folk, and beyond. It was an onslaught of ideas, but beautifully combined to not once feel contrived. Maxwell Davies had written the opera for young people, but this by no means made it easy, and the cast and orchestra did a wonderful job of tackling and learning some very challenging music.
This opera was no easy feat as far as movement was concerned. It was the most physically intensive opera I’ve ever seen, and I took it upon myself to make sure I was doing as much exercise as the cast were (I mean, that’s only fair, right?). I was probably the most physically fit I have ever been; I only regret that the level of fitness has not been maintained twelve months later! I learned a lot about my mind and my body with help from pretty much everyone involved – all of which I have taken on into other projects and my every day life. I am very grateful for this aspect of the experience.
Perhaps it is worth saying that Kommilitonen! was the first project I’d worked on where I had a taste of what it might be like to pursue opera professionally. I loved being able to fully dedicate my time and energy to the project, and for it to have essentially been my job! It was exhilarating and mentally stimulating, and I still hunger for it; that glorious almost-obsession of working on a piece that you are simply proud of and almost unacceptably excited by. That is something I loved and that I still covet.
I’ll let you in on a little secret: being a sometime singer, I would often (if not every time) sing along with the final chorus of the opera. At this point in the performance, the audience would be encouraged by the cast to follow them towards the proscenium (where the orchestra were seated), and to convene, looking up at the overhanging balcony to witness the White Rose emphatically singing and attempting to bridge the distance between the past and the present. It was one of the few moments in the show that would consistently bring a tear to my eye, being such an uplifting melody and poignant plea. “There is no quota on freedom!” rang as both a hopeful message and one that requires action to succeed, and this was beautifully depicted as the cast wiped off written messages from the set and brought everyone in the room – performers and audience alike – into the same space, to stand united. It was something else.
To explain half of what this opera has done for me, not only in terms of directorial experience and opportunities that have appeared since, but equally for my personal well-being, is difficult to put into words without feeling like I’m talking about myself too much. The thing is, Kommilitonen! was and is a big deal, and it has been the catalyst for so much of what has happened to me in the past year. Without ‘Komm!’ I wouldn’t have landed the job to direct The Magic Flute in Maidenhead; without ‘Komm!’ I wouldn’t have assistant directed on Sinners Club at The Other Room in Cardiff; without ‘Komm!’ I wouldn’t have convinced Stage Directors UK that I was serious about this directing thing, and they probably wouldn’t have offered me the opportunity to assist them in their Opera Directing Course in London. The list goes on and on. And I feel and know that I am lucky to have experienced all of this. I’m sure many of the young people I had the pleasure of working with would say the same. Moreover, the things the project did for my mental well-being go above and beyond all of the thanks I could possibly put into words, and for that I am exceptionally grateful.
From my experience, Kommilitonen! was an exploration of the self within a project that hinged on working as a team. I learned a great deal about myself and my methods from working with other like-minded people. And I loved being a part of that team, that family. Over the past year it has been a sheer delight to see individuals within that family grow and develop, whether near (having been lucky to work with people again or to see them in shows and concerts) or from afar (thank you, social media). We’re all cheering each other on and delighting in each others’ successes, and it’s wonderful.
There’s definitely more to come for all of us; I think – I hope – that ‘Komm!’ is the beginning of the journey and not just as good as it gets. But what a treat for us to have started here, with a demanding and thoroughly inspiring piece.
Thank you to Welsh National Opera’s Youth and Community department for such an amazing opportunity and, as always, to Polly, Jo, Emrys and Matt, without whom this would have been an entirely different experience.
Visit http://www.wno.org.uk/event/kommilitonen for more information and content.
All photographs © Kirsten McTernan
Willetts On Opera 