"Directing an opera is similar to directing a play. The singing must not get in the way of the drama"
About this Quote
Opera’s dirty little secret is that it can turn story into sport: a parade of vocal feats that audiences applaud like gymnastic landings. Bruce Beresford, speaking as a film-and-theater director who’s crossed into opera, is pushing back against that reflex with a deceptively blunt provocation: treat singing as a delivery system for drama, not a decorative override.
The intent is practical, even disciplinary. In opera rehearsals, the gravitational pull of “sound first” is intense: singers are trained to optimize breath, projection, and phrasing, often in ways that freeze the body or flatten motivation. Beresford’s line is a note to the entire ecosystem - directors, conductors, performers, and even tradition - that technical excellence isn’t the point if it breaks the scene’s truth. He’s not anti-singing; he’s anti-singing as an alibi. If the aria becomes a museum display, the character stops being a person and starts being a vocal instrument.
The subtext is also a claim of authorship. Opera can be dominated by music staff and star voices; staging is sometimes treated as polite wallpaper. Beresford asserts a director’s prerogative: the drama is the spine, and musical choices must bend toward it.
Context matters: late-20th-century opera increasingly borrowed acting realism from film and modern theater, while audiences simultaneously demanded “park and bark” vocal purity. Beresford is arguing for a third way: preserve the voice, but let it sweat, stumble, and want something. That’s where opera stops being impressive and becomes unbearable in the best sense.
The intent is practical, even disciplinary. In opera rehearsals, the gravitational pull of “sound first” is intense: singers are trained to optimize breath, projection, and phrasing, often in ways that freeze the body or flatten motivation. Beresford’s line is a note to the entire ecosystem - directors, conductors, performers, and even tradition - that technical excellence isn’t the point if it breaks the scene’s truth. He’s not anti-singing; he’s anti-singing as an alibi. If the aria becomes a museum display, the character stops being a person and starts being a vocal instrument.
The subtext is also a claim of authorship. Opera can be dominated by music staff and star voices; staging is sometimes treated as polite wallpaper. Beresford asserts a director’s prerogative: the drama is the spine, and musical choices must bend toward it.
Context matters: late-20th-century opera increasingly borrowed acting realism from film and modern theater, while audiences simultaneously demanded “park and bark” vocal purity. Beresford is arguing for a third way: preserve the voice, but let it sweat, stumble, and want something. That’s where opera stops being impressive and becomes unbearable in the best sense.
Quote Details
| Topic | Music |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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