© Laurent Compagnon
Cracks of thunder, road rage, intermittent sirens and a barking dog: the brave members of HGO faced stiff competition during last night’s performance of Sāvitri. And that was before it started to rain. Lucky, then, that the prospect of a living, breathing opera – experienced without the pallid glow of a computer screen – was too enticing for such trifles to matter.
Holst’s 1909 chamber opera sets an episode from the great classic of Sanskrit literature, the Mahabharata. Despite its epic scope — the triumph of love over death — the setting is simple and homely, representing a shift away from the extravagant, Wagnerian models that had so obsessed Holst during his student days. A performance lasts roughly 30 minutes and requires just three singers, a female chorus and a 12-piece orchestra. Practically speaking, this makes Sāvitri the perfect opera for a socially distant age. Indeed, Holst actually wrote it to be performed outdoors. (Odd, then, that the voice of Death, sung by Dan D’Souza, was banished back-stage, almost inaudible behind closed doors, right up until his final exchange with Joanna Harries’s Sāvitri.)
Holst’s libretto lends another, philosophical pertinence to the production. Condemned by Death, Sāvitri’s husband Sātyavan tries to defend himself with an axe; māyā – or illusion – has blinded him to the futility of his actions. He no longer perceives the unity of all things and, therefore, cannot accept inexorable Death. As director Julia Mintzer points out, this response resonates with our human need to pinpoint blame. In the midst of a global pandemic, Sātyavan’s suffering brings our own insecurities into sharp relief.
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