The Minotaur

The gods look down and laugh …
 
David Harsent’s retelling of the myth of the Cretan Minotaur has a powerful slant: it considers the inner world of the Minotaur himself, and suggests a dark and compelling reason for Ariadne’s intense relationship with Theseus.
 
The Minotaur, imprisoned in the labyrinth, inhabits a narrow, pitiless world. He does not fully comprehend the duality of his physical nature as half-bull, half-man; only in sleep and, ultimately, in death does his human side become evident. Ariadne, too, is conscious of being imprisoned: she longs to escape from Crete, a place that serves only to remind her of an unbearable personal history in which her father’s hubris has been the cause of her mother’s sin against nature and the resultant birth of her monstrous half-brother.
 
Ariadne hopes that, with the help of the Oracle, she will enable Theseus to find a way out of the labyrinth should he survive his encounter with the Minotaur. She believes this will give her power over Theseus and persuade him to take her back with him to Athens. Both she and Theseus see the Minotaur as scapegoat and deliverance. In this cat’s-cradle of deviousness, cruelty, loss and betrayal, none is innocent, though none is wholly to blame.
 
Harsent’s haunting version brings an original interpretation to this well-known story.

“The most powerful and original opera yet to have emerged this century.” The Scotsman

“Blood-drenched and sorrowful, majestic and raw, The Minotaur plunders the extremes of human nature in music of coruscating, storming beauty… Low woodwind, sensuous strings and the spangly clatter of the cimbalom colour the orchestra in sombre, glistening tones. The rewards are at once unsettling and exhilarating… the applause, though deserved by all, was primarily for yet further proof of Birtwistle’s epic creative clarity.” Evening Standard

“…in the Minotaur himself, a role specially conceived for the bass John Tomlinson, Birtwistle has created one of his most complex and fascinating protagonists… It is a dramatic tour de force for Tomlinson, who handles it superbly and gives eloquence to a creature who can articulate his thoughts only in his dreams, and acquires the power of speech only after the fatal blow has landed.” The Guardian

“The moment when the beast stands revealed is a brilliant coup de théâtre. The drama is now both wonderful and dreadful; as more victims are raped and gored, blood upon blood, the crowd intones a drugged and ecstatic chorale brutally shattered by a screeching chorus of winged furies. Here the music’s crazy momentum displays Birtwistle’s talents at magnificently full stretch… the evening is a glittering success.” The Independent

“He is such a master of orchestration – he constantly takes the ear to new places, producing brilliant colours. And no one knows better how to build a tension, hold it, resolve it. There is hugely impressive writing for the slaughter of the innocents, shriek upon shriek cutting a swathe through the orchestra. Elsewhere, keening high brass over strings and low brass produces a mesmerizing effect. The work is broken by three orchestral toccatas, again with hauntingly beautiful material.” Opera America

“The music begins like flowing magma, muffled and dark, forming itself frequently à la Alban Berg into a lengthy adagio... A few times there is opportunity for excessive, indeed explosive visions of sound using the powerful range of percussion, particularly in depicting the murderous acts of the beast… Even the end of the Minotaur is dazzlingly reaffirmed in this manner… Compared with somewhat fussy myth adaptations such as Ulisse by Dallapiccola or some of Henze’s late works, Birtwistle demonstrates absolutely the hand of a heady, heavyweight storyteller-in-sound..” Frankfurter Rundschau