In the host of new operas that I’ve seen over the past 40 years, two stand out for unexampled awfulness.
The first was John Buller’s The Bacchae, staged at English National Opera in 1992 in what the booklet maintained was the original Greek. My companion, a classical scholar, said it was more like restaurant Greek. The music was static and mostly impenetrable. Nothing happened for 90 minutes.
The other was Judith Weir’s Miss Fortune at Covent Garden in 2012. More self-inflicted stomach wound than mere misfortune, it took place around a kebab kiosk and has not been seen again.
What goes through your mind when you are trapped in an opera house watching a disaster unfold?
Every other disaster you have ever seen before.
What’s your worst?