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The Guardian
9 hours ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
The moment I knew: as the curtains fell on our first performance, the electricity between us was palpable
In 2015 I was making my European debut singing the role of Tatiana in Tchiakovsky's Eugene Onegin in Berlin. I'd been offered the contract at relatively short notice and was assured by the casting director not to worry, my French-Canadian co-star was 'a real charmer'. I took it with a grain of salt. On the first day of rehearsals, Étienne (the charmer) arrived for a brief introduction before he rushed off to debut a very big role, playing Posa in Verdi's Don Carlos. The following day when I asked how the show had gone he turned to me and declared, without a trace of irony, 'I sang like a god'. He was so earnest as he went on to tell me about the audience's rapturous response to his brilliance I didn't know what to say. This level of self-congratulation ran so contrary to my Australian sensibilities all I could do was try not to laugh. I wrote to a friend that night about Étienne's amusing amour-propre, which even from those first impressions I found curiously endearing, if slightly unhinged. I was intrigued by his whole vibe. On a rare day off from rehearsals he agreed to show me around town. It was a glorious spring day and as we ambled through the city our conversation never found an organic conclusion. We walked and chatted for about seven hours; it was very Before Sunrise. By the end of the day something had shifted between us. Étienne had this whole approach to seduction that seemed almost absurdly dramatic to me. More than once he tried to serenade me with a melodeon – which, if you've ever experienced such a thing, you'll know is quite hard to take seriously. Much to his confusion it was the time we spent sitting on the floor of his barely furnished apartment, laughing and watching Flight of the Conchords together, that stole my heart. We kept things as private as possible but as we continued rehearsals our connection deepened both on and off the stage. There was such a charge between us it sometimes felt as though we were playing out the storyline of the opera in real life, and vice versa. As the curtains fell on our first performance, standing hand in hand, the electricity was palpable. It was obvious to me that this went well beyond onstage chemistry or a summer crush. I knew then something serious was happening. I had fallen in love. As the show wrapped we were forced apart for three months. Étienne headed to a contract at Glyndebourne, while I spent a miserable winter in Australia. We spent so much time on the phone it was ridiculous. In September I flew to meet him in Marseille. He was deep in rehearsals but defied his director and ignored countless phone calls demanding he return to set while he picked me up from the airport. A few weeks later he absconded from rehearsals in Strasbourg to fly to London for 14 hours to watch me make my house debut as Micaëla in Carmen at the Royal Opera House. And by Christmas he surprised me by cancelling three contracts for the new year and booking tickets to join me in Australia for a month. In the early days, many of Étienne's romantic gestures were met with my baffled amusement but the way he prioritised me, and our budding relationship once we were reunited was not something I took lightly. He swept me off my feet once and for all. Six years ago we bought our first home in Paris where we are based with our eight-year-old son and our apricot miniature poodle, Lily. We continue to tour extensively and still spend hours on the phone. These days Étienne knows his occasional melodeon performances give me a giggle. And we both know it's the laughs we share that keep our hearts singing. Nicole Car is making her debut as Rusalka in Opera Australia's Dvořák's Rusalka at Sydney Opera House from 19 July to 11 August Do you have a romantic realisation you'd like to share? From quiet domestic scenes to dramatic revelations, Guardian Australia wants to hear about the moment you knew you were in love. Your contact details are helpful so we can contact you for more information. They will only be seen by the Guardian. Your contact details are helpful so we can contact you for more information. They will only be seen by the Guardian.


The Guardian
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Eight hours, 250 singers… and as many bananas as it takes: Tavener's Veil of the Temple
What's the longest concert you've ever been to? Ever found yourself sitting through more encores than you'd bargained for, worrying about your last train? Or mid-symphony becoming desperate to stand up and stretch? What about the longest single piece of music? Opera-goers may or may not sympathise with Rossini's quip about Wagner's 'good moments but awful quarters of an hour', but there is no denying the monumental scale of Die Meistersinger, for instance, which runs to about four and a half hours, not including intervals. And then there's the same composer's Ring cycle – about 15 hours in total, albeit split across four instalments; as close to a marathon as classical music usually gets. Usually. But there are also a number of utterly enormous compositions lurking on classical music's periphery. Some are basic endurance tests. Clocking in at somewhere between 10 and 19 hours, Erik Satie's Vexations involves 840 repetitions of the same motif. (It recently got its first live UK rendition by a single pianist when Igor Levit performed it in collaboration with the artist Marina Abramović.) Others espouse what the 20th-century music expert Tim Rutherford-Johnson calls 'an aesthetic of superabundance' – none more obviously than Karlheinz Stockhausen's seven-part, 29-hour opera cycle Licht, for which one stage demands 'an orchestra in the shape of a face'; another, four airborne helicopters. For sheer length, however, nothing matches Longplayer. Begun on 31 December 1999, it is a millennium-long work for Tibetan singing bowls. And also, according to its creator, Jem Finer, 'a living, 1,000-year-long process – an artificial life form programmed to seek its own survival strategies'. Crucially, its main performers are computers. After all, very long pieces of music pose different challenges once humans are involved. Especially if there are hundreds of them. The opening of this year's Edinburgh international festival (EIF) will feature about 250 singers in a performance of John Tavener's eight-hour choral work The Veil of the Temple. It will be the piece's first outing in the UK since its world premiere at London's Temple church in 2003. According to the festival director, Nicola Benedetti, the performance will be 'a leap into extremity and a reckoning with the existential'. Written in five languages, structured in eight cycles and 'representing four major religions', Tavener's work is 'ultimately a story of our coming together in the face of our differences', she says. But what about the practicalities? 'There's a logistical side to the musical delivery that is quite something,' concedes EIF's head of music, Nick Zekulin. 'One of the biggest challenges is rehearsing it.' The individual choirs – the Edinburgh Festival Chorus, Monteverdi Choir and National Youth Choir of Scotland – all have their own rehearsal time, the headache is bringing together all the musicians with the staging, 'without having 10-hour calls, which you just can't do'. Tavener billed the work as an 'all-night vigil', but even he was taken aback by the original commission from the Temple Music Trust to compose a piece that lasted an entire night. 'It wasn't my mad idea,' he said in an interview some weeks before his death in 2013. 'I thought I couldn't possibly write seven hours of music, but it just grew and grew and grew.' The extreme length of The Veil of the Temple is a nod to the expansiveness of certain religious rituals – particularly in the Orthodox church, to which Tavener converted in 1977. 'I hope that the very long journey through the first seven cycles leads us to a peak of spiritual intensity,' Tavener wrote. 'The Veil of the Temple is an attempt to restore the sacred imagination.' Thomas Guthrie is directing the work in Edinburgh – but he also sang in the first performance. 'There was a real sense at the beginning that nobody knew how it was going to go or what to do,' he recalls. So how did he prepare for his own long solo at 2.30am? 'Bananas. Someone told me they were the best food to give the body half a chance to stay alert enough to sing.' He giggles as he remembers the start of the eighth cycle, when he had to sing: 'Awake thou that sleepest' – 'and literally, you know, wake people up while carrying a candle'. Steven Poole reviewed that 2003 performance for the Guardian. 'The overarching memory I have,' he tells me, 'is of a sense of time slowing and expanding until it didn't really matter what the clock said. The music was like the world: you were just living in it.' Does he have any tips for people planning to attend next month? 'Bring blankets. And show no mercy to anyone looking at a phone.' Yet the EIF performance will be different from the premiere, for the performers and the audience: this take on Tavener's all-night vigil will start at 2.30pm and wrap up by a bedtime-friendly 10.30pm. Doesn't that risk losing something crucial? 'We felt it was a compromise, but a valid one,' says Zekulin. 'I think probably if this were on the festival's closing weekend, we would have done the overnight. But if you do it for the opening and you're expecting the audience to attend an 11 o'clock recital the next day, it's asking a lot.' He's confident this version will have its own atmosphere: 'The purpose of the piece is the journey.' While Guthrie confesses 'it's a shame' to lose the darkness-to-dawn trajectory, he is finding other ways to create the all-important sense of ritual. 'Lighting, magic, and the music and that space on its own will carry it.' The Usher Hall may not be a religious space, but it has 'its own kind of spirituality – the shows, the musicians, the audiences that have been there before'. For the conductor Sofi Jeannin, the main concern is stamina. 'I've never encountered a piece that lasts eight hours before,' she admits. 'I didn't say yes without blinking, because I needed time to think: am I the right person for this? Can I pace it correctly?' Unlike the singers, who'll have breaks, Jeannin will be 'on' throughout. Is she really planning to perform for eight hours straight? 'The closer we get to it, the less breaks I want,' she says, eyes shining. How will she cope? 'I have to look at when the musicians really need me there. I don't necessarily need to be very active all the time.' There will be breaks during the performance – three short ones, Zekulin assures me – and audience members will be encouraged to move around, and allowed to come in and out of the hall as needed. 'We've even talked about having a couple of plants, as it were, who sort of create that little bit of freedom,' he laughs. The Usher Hall seating, Zekulin is quick to add, has recently been renovated and is now 'very comfortable. If I'm honest, I'm not sure we'd have done this piece otherwise.' This performance will also see the stalls seating replaced with beanbags. Seriously? For eight hours? 'They're not as noisy as we might remember, says Zekulin. 'They're high-quality beanbags!' The Veil of the Temple is at Usher Hall, Edinburgh, on 2 August


The Guardian
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Eight hours, 250 singers… and as many bananas as it takes: Tavener's Veil of the Temple
What's the longest concert you've ever been to? Ever found yourself sitting through more encores than you'd bargained for, worrying about your last train? Or mid-symphony becoming desperate to stand up and stretch? What about the longest single piece of music? Opera-goers may or may not sympathise with Rossini's quip about Wagner's 'good moments but awful quarters of an hour', but there is no denying the monumental scale of Die Meistersinger, for instance, which runs to about four and a half hours, not including intervals. And then there's the same composer's Ring cycle – about 15 hours in total, albeit split across four instalments; as close to a marathon as classical music usually gets. Usually. But there are also a number of utterly enormous compositions lurking on classical music's periphery. Some are basic endurance tests. Clocking in at somewhere between 10 and 19 hours, Erik Satie's Vexations involves 840 repetitions of the same motif. (It recently got its first live UK rendition by a single pianist when Igor Levit performed it in collaboration with the artist Marina Abramović.) Others espouse what the 20th-century music expert Tim Rutherford-Johnson calls 'an aesthetic of superabundance' – none more obviously than Karlheinz Stockhausen's seven-part, 29-hour opera cycle Licht, for which one stage demands 'an orchestra in the shape of a face'; another, four airborne helicopters. For sheer length, however, nothing matches Longplayer. Begun on 31 December 1999, it is a millennium-long work for Tibetan singing bowls. And also, according to its creator, Jem Finer, 'a living, 1,000-year-long process – an artificial life form programmed to seek its own survival strategies'. Crucially, its main performers are computers. After all, very long pieces of music pose different challenges once humans are involved. Especially if there are hundreds of them. The opening of this year's Edinburgh international festival (EIF) will feature about 250 singers in a performance of John Tavener's eight-hour choral work The Veil of the Temple. It will be the piece's first outing in the UK since its world premiere at London's Temple church in 2003. According to the festival director, Nicola Benedetti, the performance will be 'a leap into extremity and a reckoning with the existential'. Written in five languages, structured in eight cycles and 'representing four major religions', Tavener's work is 'ultimately a story of our coming together in the face of our differences', she says. But what about the practicalities? 'There's a logistical side to the musical delivery that is quite something,' concedes EIF's head of music, Nick Zekulin. 'One of the biggest challenges is rehearsing it.' The individual choirs – the Edinburgh Festival Chorus, Monteverdi Choir and National Youth Choir of Scotland – all have their own rehearsal time, the headache is bringing together all the musicians with the staging, 'without having 10-hour calls, which you just can't do'. Tavener billed the work as an 'all-night vigil', but even he was taken aback by the original commission from the Temple Music Trust to compose a piece that lasted an entire night. 'It wasn't my mad idea,' he said in an interview some weeks before his death in 2013. 'I thought I couldn't possibly write seven hours of music, but it just grew and grew and grew.' The extreme length of The Veil of the Temple is a nod to the expansiveness of certain religious rituals – particularly in the Orthodox church, to which Tavener converted in 1977. 'I hope that the very long journey through the first seven cycles leads us to a peak of spiritual intensity,' Tavener wrote. 'The Veil of the Temple is an attempt to restore the sacred imagination.' Thomas Guthrie is directing the work in Edinburgh – but he also sang in the first performance. 'There was a real sense at the beginning that nobody knew how it was going to go or what to do,' he recalls. So how did he prepare for his own long solo at 2.30am? 'Bananas. Someone told me they were the best food to give the body half a chance to stay alert enough to sing.' He giggles as he remembers the start of the eighth cycle, when he had to sing: 'Awake thou that sleepest' – 'and literally, you know, wake people up while carrying a candle'. Steven Poole reviewed that 2003 performance for the Guardian. 'The overarching memory I have,' he tells me, 'is of a sense of time slowing and expanding until it didn't really matter what the clock said. The music was like the world: you were just living in it.' Does he have any tips for people planning to attend next month? 'Bring blankets. And show no mercy to anyone looking at a phone.' Yet the EIF performance will be different from the premiere, for the performers and the audience: this take on Tavener's all-night vigil will start at 2.30pm and wrap up by a bedtime-friendly 10.30pm. Doesn't that risk losing something crucial? 'We felt it was a compromise, but a valid one,' says Zekulin. 'I think probably if this were on the festival's closing weekend, we would have done the overnight. But if you do it for the opening and you're expecting the audience to attend an 11 o'clock recital the next day, it's asking a lot.' He's confident this version will have its own atmosphere: 'The purpose of the piece is the journey.' While Guthrie confesses 'it's a shame' to lose the darkness-to-dawn trajectory, he is finding other ways to create the all-important sense of ritual. 'Lighting, magic, and the music and that space on its own will carry it.' The Usher Hall may not be a religious space, but it has 'its own kind of spirituality – the shows, the musicians, the audiences that have been there before'. For the conductor Sofi Jeannin, the main concern is stamina. 'I've never encountered a piece that lasts eight hours before,' she admits. 'I didn't say yes without blinking, because I needed time to think: am I the right person for this? Can I pace it correctly?' Unlike the singers, who'll have breaks, Jeannin will be 'on' throughout. Is she really planning to perform for eight hours straight? 'The closer we get to it, the less breaks I want,' she says, eyes shining. How will she cope? 'I have to look at when the musicians really need me there. I don't necessarily need to be very active all the time.' There will be breaks during the performance – three short ones, Zekulin assures me – and audience members will be encouraged to move around, and allowed to come in and out of the hall as needed. 'We've even talked about having a couple of plants, as it were, who sort of create that little bit of freedom,' he laughs. The Usher Hall seating, Zekulin is quick to add, has recently been renovated and is now 'very comfortable. If I'm honest, I'm not sure we'd have done this piece otherwise.' This performance will also see the stalls seating replaced with beanbags. Seriously? For eight hours? 'They're not as noisy as we might remember, says Zekulin. 'They're high-quality beanbags!' The Veil of the Temple is at Usher Hall, Edinburgh, on 2 August


New York Times
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- New York Times
John Conklin, Designer of Fantastical Opera Sets, Dies at 88
John Conklin, a celebrated designer of scenery for opera and theater, who tapped a boundless knowledge of music and art history, as well as an instinct for disruption, to create memorable sets for New York City Opera, the Metropolitan Opera, the San Francisco Opera and, most notably, the Glimmerglass Festival in upstate New York, died on June 24 in Cooperstown, N.Y. He was 88. His death was confirmed in a statement by Glimmerglass, the nonprofit summer opera company in Cooperstown. Mr. Conklin designed the scenery — and, in some cases, the costumes — for more than 40 Glimmerglass productions, starting in 1991. He remained active with the company even after his retirement in 2008, and he served as the scenic designer for all four shows of this summer's season: 'Tosca,' 'Sunday in the Park With George,' 'The House on Mango Street' and 'The Rake's Progress.' The term 'prodigy' rarely applies to set designers, but Mr. Conklin's instincts were on full display in his youth. Growing up in Hartford, Conn., he attended symphonies and operas with his family, and by 10, he was building his own models, based on photographs he found perusing the magazine Opera News. Want all of The Times? Subscribe.


Daily Mail
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- Daily Mail
Wynne Evans jokes about the 'dark side' in latest post as he plugs new radio show after leaving the BBC following Strictly controversy
Wynne Evans joked about leaving the 'dark side' in his latest post plugging his new radio show on Thursday. The Strictly contestant and opera singer's career has been left struggling in the last six months after he made a controversial joke during his time preparing for the Strictly tour in January. He used a vile sexual innuendo and was also caught up in a 'wandering hand' incident with dance partner Katya Jones, who seemed to remove his arm from her lower waist on the show. After the BBC launched an investigation into his conduct, bosses decided not to renew his radio contract for his show. Wynne has now launched a new daily radio show called The Wynne Evans Show, broadcasting live every weekday from 9am to 12pm on his website, following his departure from BBC Radio Wales. He was promoting on his Instagram Story on Thursday as he shared an image of this show graphics along with the slogan above which read: 'Even he's left the dark side.' 'This show is for my community – The Wynners – who've supported me through thick and thin,' Wynne previously said. 'It's a space where we can come together every morning, share a laugh, play the music we love, and just be ourselves.' It comes after last week Wynne confirmed a brand new business venture amid fears he's split from his new fiancée Liz Brookes. He took to Instagram to share the news that he has joined up with a restaurant in his hometown. The Welsh House Carmarthen shared a video of Wynne to their Instagram confirming that the former Strictly Come Dancing star is joining as a partner in the business. In the clip, Wynne confirmed the venue would be renamed The Welsh House by Wynne and will see him cook 'MasterChef' style dishes. After his BBC Wales radio show was cut, Wynne also confirmed he will be hosting a brand new programme from the restaurant and bar. Proudly showing off his hometown, he revealed: 'One thing that is changing is The Welsh House, it's going to become The Welsh House by Wynne! 'I promise you it will have MasterChef dishes on the menu, it's going to have a warm welcome and I want you to come and see me, OK? The Strictly contestant and opera singer's career has been left struggling in the last six months after he made a controversial joke during his time preparing for the Strictly tour in January (seen with partner Katya Jones) 'It's going to be the home of the radio show as well, so get in touch with us, make your bookings and I'll see you soon - I better get cooking!' In a caption, The Welsh House added: 'We're thrilled to welcome Wynne Evans, iconic Welsh opera singer, presenter, and legend as a new partner in our Carmarthen family! 'A proud local and passionate champion of Welsh food, drink, and culture, Wynne brings unmatched energy and love for the town to help us create something truly special. Big things are coming… The Welsh House by Wynne.' The Sun claimed Wynne is opening the restaurant to 'capitalise' on his 2023 Celebrity MasterChef win and to 'distract' himself amid reports of his separation from Liz. 'He's opening a restaurant focusing on Welsh food to distract from the Liz separation,' a source told the publication. 'He paid the Welsh House to take over their existing space.' 'He is trying to capitalise on his MasterChef win apparently,' they added. It is not Wynne's latest side hustle as he also recently started work as an Airbnb host, leasing out a property in Llansteffan - eight miles away from his hometown. MailOnline contacted Wynne's representatives for comment. In recent weeks, Wynne sparked fears of a split from his new fiancée Liz after deleting his engagement post from Instagram and unfollowing her. MailOnline also revealed Liz no longer follows Wynne, who only proposed to the events company boss last month. He got down on one knee during a romantic trip to Morocco and documented the gesture on Instagram, posting snaps of him proposing and a close-up of Liz's ring. He wrote: 'Big news… I got engaged! 'This weekend in Morocco, somewhere between the couscous, the camels, and me limping around the souks like a man with no spatial awareness, I proposed to Liz — and she said yes! (No take-backs, I've checked.) 'She's clever, she's kind, she's got excellent taste in men. 'Absolutely no idea how I pulled that off, but here we are! Feeling very lucky, very happy, and just a tiny bit smug.' However, the picture has now mysteriously disappeared from his account, as have any mentions of his fiancée. Wynne was previously married to wife seven years, Tanwen - the mother of his two kids - but they split in 2016. Wynne and Liz then met in 2024 shortly before his stint on the BBC1 dancing show, and Liz was often sat in the audience during the live shows. After his BBC Wales show was cut, Wynne announced that he would be launching a new radio show - which he has now confirmed he will record from The Welsh House. In May, he wrote on Instagram: 'The Wynne Evans Show is coming back, live every day from 9am - 12pm on a new app, on Alexa and Google (we don't have to say 'smart speaker' anymore!) and at 'This is our next adventure. And I need you more than ever. We will have great music, my question of the day, the mystery voice, your soundtrack stories and so much more, because we have each other again.' Wynne's show wasn't renewed after it emerged he used sexual innuendo during the Strictly Live Tour and was also caught up in a 'wandering hand' incident with dance partner Katya Jones, who seemed to remove his arm from her lower waist on the show. After the BBC launched an investigation into his conduct, bosses decided not to renew his radio contract for his show. Then, it was revealed that his travelogue series with Joanna Page was cancelled after just one series. The programme originally aired in February and March of this year and was placed on ice when Wynne was dropped from the Strictly tour before returning to screens. An insider told The Sun: 'Once the first series was slapped on ice, there was always a huge question mark hanging over the prospect of a second outing. 'Only now has the BBC publicly confirmed it won't be returning. 'It means that Wynne has no TV show or radio show with the Beeb, and effectively marks the end of their relationship.'