Power to the people

A large slice of the day was dedicated to testing our new surtitle system which is lovely smooth white text on black beamed into the auditorium via sexy plasma screens. Of course being the kind of venue we are means that really, we have no place dealing in this sort of technology but our audiences have come to demand it. What amazes me is how different expectations are from person to person; I find no trouble seeing our existing screens (fuzzy, super bright green LEDs) from the front row for instance, but other people claim to have to lay flat on their backs in order to read them. In all honesty I find that I need merely use my ocular muscles to swivel my eyes upwards and neck muscles don't come into it. Go figure. Today I sat in the very back row and thought the text beautifully clear, even without my necessary glasses....how many people will disagree with me? I believe that even though people can see things perfectly clearly, they often want a fifty percent safety built in just to make sure. Still, we are looking at ways to improve the whole system and we may consider additional displays should we work out somewhere suitable to put them. It is all about money though and we don't have much of that going spare. The displaying of text is produced by very long Powerpoint presentations; not being a great fan of Windows programs I have some innate fears about reliability (probably unfounded and it is now the industry norm I believe). Might be worth have a load of boards printed up and have a bloke standing by just in case eh?

Slowly but surely we approach completion and on Saturday the major electrical and lighting installation begins. A week after that the company and the first two productions arrive on site for technical rehearsals. For the final cosmetic push I shall have a freshly laundered frilly shirt.
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Walk the talk

James and I did another interview today and I am becoming quite impressed by the seamless way we integrate our answers. We don't have an 'act' per se, we just remain determined and passionate about the project when prompted by familiar questions; just wind us up and let's us go. Crucially, we say the same things we have been saying for many years, only now we have more evidence to back up our assertions (particularly with the Inspire Project bearing so much fruit). Sooner or later some really influential people are going to pay attention...

I had a varied day of it today. Interesting I should say. A short film about the making of the 'Fantastic Mr Fox' production was discussed just before I had a walk round with the London Fire Brigade. Life is certainly not dull right now. Soon attention will fall on the run in to first night and the challenges of the season. The roller coaster awaits....
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Keep Calm and Carry on

Now that the site is fully de-aquified the final furlong of the build can continue. Cleaning is the main job so that the technical installation can progress without hindrance. The lighting of the site is the real aesthetic finishing touch (as well as, obviously providing the stage rigs etc) and adds the bit of magic that makes OHP so unique and special.

With the first two shows in full production rehearsals as well it is now time for a cool head and sharp focus on the details (and finding solutions to small problems that crop up when we solve another bigger issue). Still, that's the fun and I sincerely hope everybody notices the changes! It even goes down to the level of cleaning stonework that hasn't been touched in years but which, once cleaned sparkle by comparison to before. I hasten to add that we don't touch the listed stuff although last year that was renovated and we saw the full glorious effect in Roberto Devereux. One critic thought our REAL Jacobean mansion was just a boring, unimaginative set, clearly unaware that he was watching what had to qualify as the most authentically stage production of RD in history.
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Water water everywhere

Sunday morning 7am is no time to receive a phone call from theatre security. When I saw the number flash up I was more than a little perturbed but I was nowhere near as perturbed as the security guard at the other end. For some inexplicable reason, the head of a water pipe had erupted and was firing a geyser of water into the underneath of the seating stand's front deck. When I arrived fifteen minutes later the noise was deafening. It was clear what needed to be done and I wasn't the one who was going to do it; a tap, in a hole in the ground from whence the torrent was blasting needed to be turned off. Austin, the perturbed security guard, was about to get even more alarmed because he was charged with crawling through the raging waters, under the seating stand and to thrust his arm deep into the hole to find the tap and turn it off. Commendably, he took his trousers off and began his journey. Over the din of the water I could hear him cursing; "I can't f...g find the tap!" I can't deny I had some admiration for him and urged him to persevere. Through the din and burbling I heard him proclaim, "I'm f...g soaked! Wait! I think I got it!" And true enough the sound subsided. Austin crawled out from the space like a soldier on an assault course, clearly pleased with his achievement but wet through. I am sorry to say that I found him an amusing sight but I shall instruct his employer to give him a bonus for going above and beyond the call of duty. That is a quality we always need at OHP.

The only other time I know of when somebody has had to de-trouser was when a waiter at a restaurant spilled gravy down my suit - all of it. An hour or so later we had a royal visitor at the theatre which required a better appearance than I was now able to present. I managed to find a dry cleaner prepared to clean the suit immediately whilst I waited in shirt and socks at the counter. It was surreal and I was getting some funny looks from the Hoffman press operator but I arrived on time in a crisp, clean suit.
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Well done Njabulo

Some very good news of a singer who has been around HP for a few years now; the effervescent South African Njabulo Madlala. Last night he won the Ferrier awards, probably the UK's most prestigious singing award; it is one that carries a hefty financial prize too so when Njabulo is at OHP in our Fidelio this season, the drinks are very much on him. Congratulations to him and here's to a fine career.

It is a momentous day in this household too because Fiora is going into a normal bed. I have spent the last hour putting together a bed rail which involved quantum physics, indecipherable drawings and a deep laceration on my finger. Then I walked to the gym and discovered it closed. I am not in the mood for much now.

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Techno leap

Today was more interesting in the office than at the theatre (where a lone chippy is doodling away on bits and pieces) because we have reached the 21st century technologically speaking; we took delivery of a Mac. This now means we can do far more multi-media stuff (I don't have to sit at home all night editing short films on my own Mac for example) and we can do simple things like, errm, burn CDs or DVDs. It also means we can manage our photo library (huge) without having to prepare a picnic and a flask of coffee whilst our PCs chug away opening images. All in all a thoroughly welcome development.

I gave the leader of the council a show around the theatre today since he was passing and he seemed suitably impressed; which when you think about it, is another thoroughly welcome development.

Crisis? What crisis

As quickly as the air chaos ensued the difficulties abate. We really can make a mountain out of a volcano. If the Axis powers in 1940 had waited for snow etc..well if they had stirred up an Icelandic volcano...

I have always had an admiration for the Icelanders; a nation with the population of Kensington and Chelsea has produced world class footballers, opera singers, pop acts AND managed to fleece half of Europe's population of their savings. There is a joke going around that says the Icelanders offered to switch of the volcano is we stopped telling them to pay us back.

I had another alarming dream last night in which I attended a rehearsal of Forza only to discover that everybody was singing in English. Now I don't want to ignite a debate about original language versus translation - it's just that the alarm in the dream stemmed from the fact that we have told everybody we are singing it in Italian. I took this up gingerly with James (who, it has to be said is appearing far too frequently in my dreams) concerned that he would be faced with another hurdle only to find he knew about it all along! I woke up just before I hit the ground.

These dreams about work might make you think that I am worried and concerned about everything which I'm not. But when I have a dream about carpenters I will consider therapy or retraining as a milkman or something.

Hmmm

As I sit here writing this under crystal clear blue skies (again), the surreality of the travel chaos, caused by a cloud nobody can see emanating from an Icelandic volcano nobody can pronounce, continues to have profound effects on our first two productions. With singers and conductors scattered to four corners of the globe, James is as much a travel agent as he is a producer at the moment.

Tricky kick-off

It is the start of Carmen rehearsals and various individuals are dispersed Europe wide. I suspect a large Islay Malt for James will be necessary by the end of the week. I'm not even sure I won't be driving hither and thither across the continent to gather them all together.

Cloud? What cloud?

The apocalyptic predictions that a country-sized cloud of volcanic ash would blot out the sun in the UK have been thwarted by..well, the sun. It has been shining endlessly for days and at the moment it does so with a strong heat too. If the cloud that has brought silence to the skies over London IS up there, it is of a kind that can only be detected by jet engines.

Holland Park was choc full of people enjoying the sunshine and we joined them after a quick check of some work that has been going on over the weekend. Hundreds (thousands) thronged the lawns of HP today and I kicked myself for not having a team of leafleteers out there on the North Lawn. Still plenty seem to know what is going on because I heard quite a few sounding eager now that we are getting visibly ready for the season ahead. Interestingly one lady wondered aloud to her companion that we "must be starting earlier this year" and a young girl asked if "there was going to be opera again mummy?" And it is nice to see the grand "Inspire" wall getting attention from across the pathway. The good weather is always a prompt for those who have a more laissez faire attitude to ticket booking. They had better hurry up.

No standing still

The past two weeks have been productive and very hard work for Stu and Kasete, his oppo and our deputy house manager but they have done very well. They nor any of the contractors working on site probably need me prowling around scrutinising every screw, line, cut and joint but they have been tolerant (although on-the- hoof decisions tend to get made when they are needed). This whole process of change has been a cycle of solving one issue and creating another but the road might now have straightened out. Yesterday (with Kasete in the Charlie Dimmock role of doing the work and me in the Lawrence Llewellyn Bowen role of mincing about with the aesthetic eye) we spent an hour arranging olive trees in pots around the perimeters of various facilities. That is something we normally do two hours before curtain up on the first night so it has to count as progress. We also made the momentous decision to paint four of the support legs of the mezzanine so that they match the colour of the seating structure they abut. Such things, as I have oft repeated, matter! Henceforth, all is detail and I hope we don't over-egg the pudding.

James is in full-on producer mode dealing with last minute problems of casting and the flicking tail of a volcanic cloud that is slowing the arrival of Europe based singers for the start of music rehearsals on Monday. He could do without it for sure but I think sometimes he couldn't really do without it if you know what I mean? He and the company have always flourished in adversity so the bigger the problems he describes, the more sanguine I tend to get; history tells me that the success of the outcome is directly proportional to the depth of the abyss we have peered into. Is that the mark of a good outfit? I like to think so. The challenges of Pelleas, our opening production, offer the most tantalising results, for example. And with that in mind we sit down soon to finalise the 2012 season.

Back in to it

The visit to Eastbourne was ended with a long (very long) steeply undulating walk along the cliffs from Beachy Head to the old listed lighthouse that had once been jacked up hydraulically and moved fifty feet inland to avoid the advancing cliff erosion. Beachy Head is possibly one of the most strangely poignant places I have been. If the signs for the Samaritans in the car park were not enough to remind you of why some people are drawn to the place, the first person we saw up there was a woman with a high visibility jacket with "Chaplain" written across the back of it. It is also a breathtakingly beautiful place and frighteningly exposed with small wooden crosses and flowers dotted along the craggy, crumbling and unprotected cliff edge. I shall not rush to return. Odd that one of the most glorious spots in the UK (one that on a bright day can uplift and invigorate) should become both a beacon and a shrine to the sad and lost because what makes it inherently beautiful offers certain oblivion should you wish it.

Seaside

Yesterday, the kids and I enjoyed a gorgeously sunny day on the south coast, wandering up and down the promenade and playing the most elaborate game of crazy golf known to man (18 holes, par 58, my score ten under par). It was the great British Day Out that included fish and chips too: today we'll traipse across the cliffs at Beachy Head before making our way back to London. There won't be many more opportunities for such a jaunt until September. The Blackberry didn't stop buzzing of course but it delivered nothing of alarm or disaster so the point of these 48hrs has been preserved more or less intact. I will probably be at the theatre late this afternoon to see progress and where I am led to believe things have gone largely to plan.

I am writing this on the veranda of the seafront hotel as I wait for the kids to get up for breakfast. The coffee roughly approximates what I am used to, the English Channel is reassuringly grey and the pier off to my right looks as flammable as any British pier should. I can't say that I would be happy to spend a whole summer holiday in such a place but the Victorians created towns like this with a splendour that although faded now, still hangs on. Only a couple of hours from London, I have always wondered what a southern European climate would do to places like this. Culturally speaking, the 28 miles of water between here and France seem much greater but perhaps it is worth celebrating the difference?

Minutiae

It would be dreary to lay out the myriad work going on at the theatre site so suffice to say there is a lot of it and it is happening at great pace. There are annoying glitches that take time to remedy (seating structures two inches out of whack etc) and we constantly chase the new works with suddenly appearing issues that need further remedy. Still we are a month ahead of where we would usually be and there is time, when everybody has left site next week, to begin fine tuning. Stu is in the heart of the maelstrom and is coping admirably in his calm stoical way. When I mentioned this to him the other day he said "drowning, not waving" - but then he laughed because I think he saw the fear in my eyes. Then I laughed too - with the fear still in my eyes - and Stu marched off to solve another problem. Indeed, he is a real utility player who I have just remembered is also a trained actor so he can record all the house announcements as well - although the Aussie twang will need to be curtailed!

Things are progressing so well I feel able to take two of my kids to Beachy Head for a couple of days. Given the history and reputation of the place I won't tell Stu where I'm going in case he asks to tag along. Actually, in view of the irritation James is having right now with some casting replacements I'm only glad he is at the other end of the country as well.

Getting interesting

A person should have many interests. That James and I share more than those operatic was demonstrated in the course of a filmed interview we were doing yesterday; mid-flow we broke off in that weird stream of consciousness way to talk about Des Lynam, football and Fulham FC (who neither of us supports but we do have an acquaintance with their manager). If the director of the shoot was perturbed by this he didn't show it and allowed us to find our own way back onto the issue at hand (opera). More about why we were in this situation may become known in due course but it was quite an illuminating moment for all concerned.

By Saturday morning the bulk of the theatre will be complete. Then for the detail. Our PR company are on board, the box office is in full swing and preparations for the first few events of the season are well under way.

Wow

Up with the lark and in at site by seven tomorrow - we begin the process of internal walling for the backstage and need to check final layouts. I can honestly (but a little sheepishly) say that I am like a kid with a new toy over the new backstage. It all feels very similar to when, at five years old, we went to visit our new flat to which we would soon move from our cosy slum in Shepherds Bush. The flat had a bath and I insisted that I sit in it because I had never seen a fitted bath before. The contrast between the previous cabin village and this new facility is about as vast as my slum and the new flat. Actually, I think my slum was better appointed than our old backstage.

Today was crazy and rewarding - so much has risen from the ground in one day. At this rate - touch wood etc etc - the company will arrive to a beautifully finished theatre for a change. I have already decided what changes I am making next year!

Ooops

The title of this blog is not an indication that mistakes, per se, have been made but a few issues today - as easily resolved as they were at the time -served as reminders that in a whole new build schedule and method, one can run up against the smallest problems that hadn't been considered. In each case a solution that is better than the original idea was found so its all good. And the sun was shining.

The other "oops" is that we seem to have underestimated the appeal of Forza so James is busily trying to see if an extra show is feasible. A good "oops" I think you will agree. Watch this space to find out if he manages it.

The floor of the new backstage was installed today and looks like the centre court at Wimbledon and we'll need a windsock on there just in case any struggling light aircraft try to land on it.

Go forth and prosper

I'm itching for the week to get underway; a long weekend is a challenge when you have a 19 month old who hasn't mastered the art of entertaining herself for more than five minutes. After your five hundredth 'this is the way the lady rides", or you thousandth "row, row, row your boat", builders, trucks, cranes and hammering is idyllic by comparison. And indeed over the next few days we'll see lots of the above.

I got into a bit of a row with somebody over Carmen. She insisted that the Prosper Merimee novella was lovely and moving and, and, and .. I couldn't work out what bearing that had on the fact I find the opera about as tedious as it is possible to and that I don't know of any opera whose characters I could care less about. She launched into a treatise on the wonderful Spanish culture and was undeflected by my pointing out that both the source text and the opera were created by Frenchmen who were indulging in the sort of cultural caricature that we see in the oriental parts of the repertoire. To be honest I was wasting my time; I had been considering reading the Merimee but she has put me right off and I think I will move straight to Hugo's 'Le Roi s'amuse' in preparation for Rigoletto in 2011.
There simply is no point arguing with me about Carmen.

Easter

I am afraid that neither Easter nor Christmas carries much religious significance for me personally - if it did perhaps I would enjoy them more. Interestingly (for me anyway) many operas carry a heavy religious content and the struggles with their religious beliefs - or the horrors they commit in His name - that characters endure or enjoy do fascinate me. There are many examples of course but for me this is best encapsulated in Tosca (not the only Puccini with such a plot curve). I don't know many people who agree with my opinion of why Tosca kills Scarpia but I doubt I'd elucidate on it over dinner with a Catholic priest.

By the way I had a nice lunch in Hampstead and won a two foot chocolate bunny in a free raffle. The true message of Easter for most!

I have also been reading some of the articles that have been written for our programme. Along with Tony Holden's lovely story of the process of Da Ponte's creation of the Don G libretto, I was very taken with Michael Tanner's humanist view of Fidelio and he draws a straight line between what Beethoven wanted to convey and the interpretation of the piece by director Olivia Fuchs. It is well known that our production was the first to use Guantanamo as an analogy and it shows, if nothing else, that the world still struggles with the principles of liberty and justice - even a nation founded on those very principles. Interestingly, when I receive letters from people complaining about modern productions, they almost always accuse the director of arrogance, of daring to change what the composer wanted. Well even setting aside the historical contexts and time lines of those composers, I'd venture quite strongly that if he'd been alive to see something like Guantanamo, Beethoven would have declared; "that's exactly what I meant".

Not guilty as charged

In his Independent column, David Lister has reported a complaint from an OHP patron who has complained about additional charges. David rather dramatically proclaims that our charges have increased the cost of the booking by 22.5%. Terrible I hear you say.
Well, let me explain: the only charges applied by OHP is a 2.50 admin fee on each transaction. So if you spend fifty quid or five hundred, it is the same. If you book online the company who manages our online bookings charges £1 per ticket. Not ideal but on the industry low-side. Therefore it is hard to imagine a 22.5% charge? Actually, no, because what David signally fails to point out is that this patron booked two of our several thousand £10 seats (seats I can assure you we would sell out at three times the price). His booking therefore in total cost £24.50. That for two tickets in fantastic seats for great opera. If he had booked on the phone he would have paid only the two-fifty. If he had bought twenty seats on the phone he would have paid £2.50 and so on and so on. If he had purchased two seats at £57 each he would have paid the same; or in other words 4%.

I understand that people don't like fees but ours are very low and Lister's piece was disingenuous and unfair. I haven't heard him praise us for foregoing over £100,000 in real money in order to make these seats available in the first place. I am beginning to wonder if we should bother at all. No doubt we will be attacked for that too?

Bank Holidays at this time of year are not particularly restful; they just slow everything down and I can be a bit of a curmudgeon at this time of year. Frankly that is nothing new since I am quite allergic to Christmas as well. And August Bank Holiday. And May Day....

I've been musing on the age old arguments about updated productions against traditional. If you think I'm going to offer an analysis here you are out of luck: if it works, it works is all I will offer. What got me thinking was seeing a dvd of a Zeffirelli film. He is relevant to the issue because he once wrote a long article in an Italian newspaper in which he fired off a broadside at modern productions. In the course of the article he picked on our production of Tosca from 2007 (which he hadn't seen I hasten to add) and declared it an outrage to end all outrages because we had set it in 1968 and taken, in his view, unspeakable liberties with it. We hadn't of course but whaddya gonna do? His assault on us remains one of our proudest moments.

It is funny how being insulted by famous people can be a source of pleasure. Richard Dreyfuss once told me that he didn't understand a word I was saying on account of my London accent. And I know for a fact that Michael Caine once said "Who the f...kin 'ell is Mike Volpe?"

I am becoming something of an expert on fabric engineering. I had to look at something the rigger felt it was easier to explain if he actually showed me. Showing me meant being sixty odd feet off the ground in the basket of a cherry picker. Now I'm not particularly afraid of heights but the space (way, way) above my head is not my normal working environment. Maintaining my dignity and authority was paramount in the circumstances and as we lifted slowly into the air I was nonchalance personified, leaning casually against the guard rail, chatting amiably as if a raconteur at the bar. In truth I was positioning my body to obscure the rigger's view of the one thing that would betray me; the gleaming white of my knuckles. It was an astounding view though and it was fascinating to see the genuine beauty of the structure from a new perspective. These fabric buildings really are the most exquisite and naturally formed architecture.

Next week is a big one and we all wait excitedly to see how the new backstage is going to look. The seats come in too and by the end of the week 90 percent of the theatre will be in place. And soon after that the first two productions begin music rehearsals.

Things in the office are picking up pace and Julia is coping well with the demands - the season magazine is in full flow and the first events are at advanced planning stages. Meanwhile we hope the snow from the north doesn't descend beyond Birmingham.

Two months today until first night.

Winter returned yesterday. We didn't get the lethal blast that Scotland endured but brass monkeys in Kensington were complaining bitterly. A couple of engineers from the company who build our canopy were none too happy either as they dangled from ropes and clambered over the peaks of the roof. It had been noticed that the finely honed process of tensioning the fabric had gone awry ever so slightly. This meant a small section of the structure looked a bit wrinkly, water was running off it in unexpected ways and points that carry heavy loads of lighting truss were at odd angles. To the untrained eye nothing would seem amiss but it needed tweaking and so the riggers were swinging around in the icy winds fiddling with the giant cat's cradle of cables and turning spigots and bolts . I left them to it in order to get to Cadogan Hall for the Chelsea Academy showcase.

And what a showcase it was; the kids were fantastic in their performances of Carmen extracts and the beautiful entrance hall of the venue looked fabulous. Congratulations to all concerned and hopefully we will see projects like this flourish through next year and beyond. These were eleven and twelve year old kids and we should all continue to challenge them because they really can lift themselves to achieve when they are given the opportunity. There is no limit to what we can expect from them. I know this from personal experience in my own schooling and it is something James and I will continue to preach.

The Indy podcast is up on their website

http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/theatre-dance/features/opera-podcast-opera-holland-parks-new-season-1932232.html