At Linbury Theatre, an opera about Kurt Cobain's final days has been revived to unsettling effect. Here, the protagonist, Blake, a thinly veiled version of the Nirvana frontman, navigates his crumbling home, now part-dollhouse, part-squat, under scaffolding that seems to be collapsing inwards. Blake mutters constantly, and one moment he tumbles out of a kitchen cupboard; another, he hastily closes his lurid green coat over his head like a child attempting to disappear.
Oliver Leith's operatic take on the story, based on Gus Van Sant's 1992 film, turns this depiction into something truly unnerving. The score is not just narrative but also incorporates artful manipulations of sound and silence. This includes the use of sustained strings that evoke a sense of auto-melancholy. At one point, a private investigator bursts in with a kind of hymn, accompanied by vigorous banjo-style strumming from the orchestra.
But it's Leith's mastery of timbre – his ability to blur the boundaries between what we hear and how our brains process sound – that truly unsettles. He takes even the most mundane sounds, like clinking bottles or an empty phone call, and transmutes them into eerie melodic riffs that echo through the opera house. The audience is left questioning their own grip on reality as Blake's world descends further into chaos.
The production, conducted by Jack Sheen with a slick ensemble of actors and singers, features standout performances from Patricia Auchterlonie and Jake Dunn. However, it's Leith's remarkable sound design that truly holds the opera together, plunging the audience into a dreamlike world where reality is fragile and the boundaries between music and silence are constantly shifting.
In this haunting and disturbing opera, Cobain's final days take on a new level of meaning as Blake's world unravels. The result is an unsettling experience that leaves you questioning what is real and what is just sound – or both.
Oliver Leith's operatic take on the story, based on Gus Van Sant's 1992 film, turns this depiction into something truly unnerving. The score is not just narrative but also incorporates artful manipulations of sound and silence. This includes the use of sustained strings that evoke a sense of auto-melancholy. At one point, a private investigator bursts in with a kind of hymn, accompanied by vigorous banjo-style strumming from the orchestra.
But it's Leith's mastery of timbre – his ability to blur the boundaries between what we hear and how our brains process sound – that truly unsettles. He takes even the most mundane sounds, like clinking bottles or an empty phone call, and transmutes them into eerie melodic riffs that echo through the opera house. The audience is left questioning their own grip on reality as Blake's world descends further into chaos.
The production, conducted by Jack Sheen with a slick ensemble of actors and singers, features standout performances from Patricia Auchterlonie and Jake Dunn. However, it's Leith's remarkable sound design that truly holds the opera together, plunging the audience into a dreamlike world where reality is fragile and the boundaries between music and silence are constantly shifting.
In this haunting and disturbing opera, Cobain's final days take on a new level of meaning as Blake's world unravels. The result is an unsettling experience that leaves you questioning what is real and what is just sound – or both.