Akhnaten is the final opera in what has come to be known as Philip Glass’s ‘Portrait’ trilogy, the successor to 'Einstein On The Beach' and 'Satyahgraha' (about Gandhi), with the doomed Pharaoh joining the dissident physicist and the Hindu leader as an individual who had a profound effect on the age he lived in.
A static piece with a libretto that reads more like an oratorio than an opera, your reaction to it will depend on how convinced you are by Glass’s ‘minimalist’ approach to orchestration and by his decision to use ancient texts sung in the original Egyptian, Hebrew and Akkadian, balanced by a narrator detailing the action in the language of the given audience (English, here, obviously). The music is notable for its intense, bass-heavy orchestration - low notes predominate, as violins and violas are absent - as well as for Glass’s trademark style built upon the repetition of short musical phrases - which, over the years, has irritated some as much as it has absorbed others. It would be fair to say that Glass’s approach has more to do with Indian classical music, based on an ever-present and persistent ‘drone’, than with its western counterpart. Under the baton of conductor Karen Karmensek, who led the production in 2016, the music had a translucent, hypnotic quality and the small orchestral forces (this is a Mozart-sized orchestra) created a disproportionately huge sound.
The titular Pharaoh Akhnaten, best remembered today as the father of his successor, the boy-Pharaoh Tutankhamen, ruled Egypt for 17 years before his death in 1336 BC. His principal claim to fame, or notoriety, was his abolition of traditional Egyptian polytheism (the worship of multiple gods) in favour of the exclusive worship of the sun. Glass’s opera details the rise and fall of an autocratic ruler whose early decisiveness gives way to a morbid insularity and whose ultimate overthrow led to the return of the ‘old gods.’ These events are dealt with in linear fashion, with the first act describing the death and mummification of Akhnaten’s father Ahmenhotep and the coronation of the new Pharaoh, the second the establishment of Akhnaten’s regime and the third its collapse and posterity’s belated discovery of his significance.
Given the spare outline of the plot, a lot of space is given to the director to shape the work and Phelim McDermott, whose 2016 production makes a ‘by popular demand’ return to the Coliseum, seized this opportunity with zeal. What could so easily have seemed prosaic - the first act, which is given over to rituals surrounding an embalming, then a coronation - developed a cumulative power as the weight of Akhnaten’s responsibilities bore down on him. The production was greatly added by Sean Gandini’s highly original choreography and the use of juggling - the spherical ‘juggling balls’ to serve as an analogy to the sun, which Tom Pye’s designs depicted as one vast juggling ball.
There has already been much critical comment on the impact of Akhnaten’s first ‘sung moment’ - a full forty-five minutes into the first act - but that still left the viewer unprepared for the way in which the ethereal counter-tenor voice cut like a blade into Glass’s dark-hued orchestration. In the demanding role of the doomed Pharaoh, Anthony Roth Costanzo gave an unforgettable performance, meeting and surpassing all the challenges of one of the lyric stage’s most bizarre roles - a hermaphrodite king/god - and his second act monologue, an epic hymn to Aten (the sun) provided one of those moments when time seemed to stand still. He was most ably partnered in a rapturous love duet with his queen, Nefertitti (the plangently-voiced mezzo Katie Stevenson), the closest thing the piece ever got to ‘conventional opera’ and Rebecca Bottone, as his mother Queen Tye, gave a outstanding demonstration of articulation and control in her second act confrontation with the ‘old worshippers.’ Zachary James rounded out the principals in the spoken role of the Scribe, whose anguished narratives depicted Akhnaten’s rise and fall. A final word for the outstanding work of the ENO chorus who underpin the main action with impressive corporate force.
Akhnaten is the ideal work to provide an introduction to.Philip Glass, or even to convert the Glass sceptic! There are six more performances before the run ends and I’d urge anyone within shouting distance of London (and that includes all of western Europe!) to make a trip especially to see this outstanding piece of music theatre.
Reviewer - Richard Ely
on - 11.2.19
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