I went all the way to Frankfurt for this one. It is a weird opera, and I just felt like I really needed to see it. And I am glad I did!
Punch and Judy is a one-act chamber opera by Harrison Birtwistle with a libretto by Stephen Pruslin. Described by the creators as a "tragical comedy or a comical tragedy," it is a highly stylized and ritualistic reinterpretation of the traditional, violent English seaside puppet show. Personally, I actually didn't realise there's an entire cultural context of the puppet show until I did background research for this opera. After all, I am not English, and so I didn't realise there's an entire culture surrouding puppet shows by the seashore that this opera makes references to. And apparently, there's the character Punch, who is very violent. And there's also his wife Judy, who falls victim to Punch. And oh boy, this violence is permeating in the opera all throughout.
The opera's narrative is cyclical and brutal. Punch commits a series of murders, starting with his own baby (tradiitonally by throwing it in the fire, but in this production he grinds his baby into sausages). When Judy discovers the act, she attacks Punch, who responds by stabbing and killing her. Now free, Punch declares his intention to find Pretty Polly. He murders the Doctor and the Lawyer with a giant hypodermic needle and quill, respectively, when they attempt to confront him. Then Punch murders the narrastor, which marks a shift in the opera's cyclical structure. The narrator, who provided a semblance of order, is destroyed, plunging the drama into a more chaotic space. Punch is tormented by nightmares of his crimes. He is eventually brought to the gallows to be hanged by Jack Ketch. In a classic Punch-and-Judy trope, he feigns ignorance on how the noose works, tricking Ketch into demonstrating it on himself, whereupon Punch hangs him. With all obstacles removed, Pretty Polly returns. The gallows transforms into a maypole, and the two sing a final, eerie love duet, ending the opera in a state of triumphant amorality.
Musically, the work is scored for a chamber orchestra of 15 players, but it produces a sound of astonishing force and density. The ensemble includes five onstage wind players (flute, oboe, clarinet, bassoon, horn) who act as independent characters in the drama, and an offstage ensemble of trumpet, trombone, percussion, harp, and a string quintet. The percussion section is extensive and central to the opera's aggressive, ritualistic character. The vocal writing is exceptionally demanding, requiring virtuosity and stamina. The lines are angular, non-lyrical, and often push singers to the extremes of their ranges. Punch, in particular, has a role that requires a mix of sinister charm and terrifying brutality. Birtwistle uses a distinctive squawking sound for Punch, mimicking the "swazzle" used by traditional puppeteers, which creates a distorted, inhuman vocal quality.
This opera was commissioned for the 1968 Aldeburgh Festival, a hub of British musical life curated by Benjamin Britten. The premiere was scandalous; the opera's violence and abrasive score were a profound shock. It is famously reported that Britten himself walked out, though this may be apocryphal. Despite, or perhaps because of, this initial reception, the opera established Birtwistle as a major and uncompromising voice in contemporary music. Due to its musical and theatrical demands, it is not performed frequently, so when I learned that it would be performed in Frankfurt, I definitely made it a point to see it.
That said, I actually was slightly skeptical whether I would enjoy it. I have some experience of Birtwistle's works, and I didn't really like them. I disliked Birtwistle's Keyboard Engine for Two Pianos. The aesthetic of "sonic brashness," complex modernism, and visceral energy that characterizes much of Birtwistle's work is present in its most raw and undiluted form in Punch and Judy. Given that I found that piece unappealing, I may well find this opera's sound world similarly alienating. I also disliked Gerald Barry's Salome. While musically distinct, Barry and Birtwistle can share a certain relentless, almost punishing intensity in their music. And somehow, this aspect made me cautious.
Nevertheless, I went ahead and saw it, and actually liked it. Most likely because I enjoy high-intensity, complex contemporary music, e.g. Xenakis, Furrer, and Stravinsky. I also find the opera's formal ingenuity fascinating. The structuring of a brutal, anarchic drama around the framework of Bach's Passions is a deeply intellectual and subversive artistic choice that elevates the work beyond mere shock value. And finally, because it is a landmark theatrical work: Punch and Judy is a piece whose historical importance and raw theatrical power make it a compelling experience even if one finds the musical language challenging. It is a "source opera," a foundational text of post-war music theatre that redefined the possibilities of the art form.
So yes, this was definitely an experience. It was a bizarre experience, but is something I absolutely enjoyed.
