Two images stick with me from the new opera Fly Away Peter: the first is the birds and the second is the mud. In this classic first world war tale – based on David Malouf’s novel of the same name – the contrasting motifs represent the sky and the earth, flight and burial, freedom and war.
Most of all they stand in for two opposing worlds: the lush countryside of rural Queensland, rich with migratory birds, and the gruesome sludge and ooze of death and decay in the trenches.
Produced by the Sydney Chamber Orchestra to mark the Anzac centenary, Fly Away Peter has some big names behind it: the score was written by respected Australian composer Elliott Gyger (his first ever opera) and the libretto by Pierce Wilcox.
It tells the story of Jim Saddler, a young birdwatcher from Queensland, who, along with wealthy landowner Ashley and middle-aged photographer Imogen, establishes a bird sanctuary. This rural bliss soon dissipates as Jim and Ashley – like the birds they study – make their own journey to Europe to fight in the war.
Or at least that is the tale in Malouf’s novel. But it beats me if you could have made that out from watching this opera. With only three actors on stage playing multiple characters (tenor Brenton Spiteri at one point embodies more than 10 different soldiers) and no set or costume changes, Fly Away Peter is utterly confusing. As another audience member muttered to me afterwards: “I made out war, that’s about it.”
Translating a novel from page to stage – particularly opera – is no easy task. And in fairness, this abstract adaptation of Fly Away Peter is clearly intended to communicate the essence of the book, rather than provide clear plot points.
At times it succeeds: the opera opens with the three characters as they rapturously bird-watch on a plain grey stage steeped with giant steps. As they shift to the trenches, the characters carry buckets filled with white clay, which they pour and pat over themselves as they sing, until they are packed in filth. The mud signifies bandages and the dozens of black buckets, graves.
Buried in all of this is some real poetry in Wilcox’s lyrics. And carrying the entire opera on his shoulders is Jim, played by Mitchell Riley, who gives a vigorous and plucky performance. The moment of phantasmagoric death – when he stares in sinking incomprehension as his arms and legs and hands are blown apart – is particularly moving.
It’s not enough, though, to transport an opera that – at just an hour and a quarter long – does not have enough musical depth or narrative drive. Fly Away Peter aims for interiority. Yet there is little pace, tempo or texture in the score to carry those large emotional changes; it felt like one long song in different guises. Unlike the great operas in the canon, I could not remember a single tune on leaving the theatre.
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Fly Away Peter is at Carriageworks, Sydney until 9 May
