In defence of co-productions
The heart sinks a little when one hears the term “co-production”. Clichés about camels – or is donkeys? – being horses designed by committee begin to form on the lips. You start remembering those 1960s cinematic co-productions – Italian money, French actors, British director, wretched dubbing – that thought they were being glitzily international but in reality were bland and deracinated. Good art tends to be rooted, and the product of a singular consciousness.
But co-productions are now the name of the game in opera – the only way that big houses can manage to juggle six or seven new productions a year without attracting the attention of the bailiffs. Liaisons with other houses reduce costs, allow set-building and costume-making to be shared, and can be a way of attracting superstars, who often prefer to slot into productions they know rather than plant their roles in alien territory. Should we punters be worried? Is this the path to operatic uniformity?
Elaine Padmore, director of opera at Covent Garden, argues that, properly controlled, co-productions need not be a case of the bland leading the bland. “We don’t say, because it’s going to two or three other different places, it’s got to be extremely neutral because somebody might find it a bit difficult,” she insists. “People aren’t generally looking for bland; they’re looking for something that is special, that has an interesting director. That’s why they want to get in on it. Anybody can do bland and ordinary; you’re looking for the exceptional talents that people all want to buy a piece of.”
Three exceptional talents will be at the heart of the Royal Opera House’s new production of Donizetti’s La Fille du Régiment in January – director Laurent Pelly and stellar singers Juan Diego Florez and Natalie Dessay. This will be a co-production between Covent Garden and two other renowned international houses – the Vienna State Opera and the Metropolitan Opera in New York – with Florez singing the role of Tonio in each house. Covent Garden initiated the project and will stage the production first, but the involvement of three leading houses was clearly a major inducement in enticing what appears to be a dream team.
Understanding the niceties of how what began as a stand-alone Covent Garden production became an international triple-decker is not easy, but it would seem that Florez’s management warmed to the possibility of him appearing in the same production in Vienna and New York. Financially, everyone wins: the houses split the costs; director and designer get extra fees (and more than they would receive if the production was simply being rented from another house); and the singers don’t have to spend months rehearsing a new production.
But could this be the beginning of artistic rule by agents and singers? Will they henceforth insist on productions that travel? “It doesn’t get sinister like that,” says Padmore, “and we can always say no. This sort of situation is not very common. It might just happen where you get one or two particular superstars who are perhaps doing a rare piece of this kind. You could say the same thing about Cyrano de Bergerac, which we we conceived and planned with the Met. It was something that Placido Domingo wanted to do, there was no way we were all going to do a separate production, but clearly we all wanted to put him on at this stage in his career in something he can sing wonderfully. So we agreed that we would share the production. It would be stupid and a waste of money for two houses to be building separate productions of something that they’re barely going to use.”
The reasons for doing co-productions will vary – sometimes it will be singer- or director-led, on other occasions title-led. But underlying the growing trend towards multi-house undertakings are two linked factors – cost and capacity. Opera houses are trying to balance their budgets, and attracting partners is a useful source of cash. Moreover, there is a physical limit to how much an opera house can make for itself: Covent Garden’s head of production, David Pritchard, reckons on building sets and doing costumes for four new productions a year, but public expectation is that the house will stage six or seven. Co-producing or renting offers a way of bridging the gap.
On Cyrano, Covent Garden made the costumes while the Met made the sets; and it was the Met which staged the premiere. In the case of La Fille du Régiment, the London house has made both sets and costumes. For this production, it is in every sense the “lead” house, though it has kept Vienna and the Met informed of progress. The artistic and technical heads of its partner houses are invited to model showings and rehearsals; the technical staff ensure that the sets will fit on all three stages and that there are sufficient costumes for the Met’s larger chorus; and there are faithful promises that should the production concept differ radically from what was initially discussed, the other two will be kept in the loop. But this process should not be thought of in Hollywood terms, with three co-producers wrangling over the final cut. In opera, things are more gentlemanly: the lead house deals with the director and creative team, and gets the show up and running. The other houses will largely trust the lead house, though that may store up problems if one of the houses due to take the show later hates the result. Late pull-outs and contractual wrangles are not unknown.
Padmore says that on La Fille du Régiment, Covent Garden has the best of all worlds. “It starts on our stage, we have full control, and we are in charge of the budget. It’s our show essentially. But it has been constructed with the requirements of the Vienna State Opera and the Metropolitan Opera in mind. That’s the joy of a co-production. It is built to work for all the stages.”
She also says that while the sets are costumes are the same, the performances will be different in each place – that it will be more than a touring show that just slots into a different venue. “There’ll be a different conductor, a different cast (Florez is the only constant), a different chorus, and a different orchestra. It’ll have a completely different feel.” She believes international houses will resist any moves to the sort of “mega-sharing” that occurs in the US, where up to a dozen provincial companies might pool resources to finance a Turandot. Three or four partners is, she believes, about the maximum manageable, and even then it is unlikely to be a partnership of equals – someone must take the lead.
So is co-operation rather than competition now the watchword at the great opera houses? “We are much more a co-operative working together than we used to be,” says Padmore. “There’s an organisation called Opera Europa, modelled on Opera America, which allows almost a hundred European opera houses to meet together regularly and talk about problems. We go and see what life is like at other opera houses and frequently find suitable partners through these meetings – someone with the right mindset for us to share a project with.
“It’s healthy because we can be influenced by new and different ideas. The technical people particularly have a very fruitful organisation within that organisation, helping each other to solve problems. It doesn’t mean we’re all going to end up with the same-looking things, because it’s always the artists who will create wonderful new designs. Nothing’s going to change that, but we can always streamline and improve things by talking to each other and getting expertise from each other. We shouldn’t be secretive. Working on co-productions is a way of looking into somebody else’s mind as to how to run an opera house.”
One last cynical stab … will this caring-sharing approach to the business of opera rule out eccentricity? “Certainly not,” says Padmore calmly. “It helps you to share other people’s eccentricities.”
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