Croak

March 12, 2018

Even Joseph Haydn, known as the father of musical Classicism, composed several puppet operas for his employer, the Esterházy court. Another well-known puppet opera is Master Peter’s Puppet Show by Spanish composer Manuel de Falla. Its libretto is based on a visually imaginative puppet-theater episode from Miguel de Cervantes’s novel Don Quixote.

So, there are some precedents for the opera Croak. However, what makes the Pori production unique is, at the very least, the fact that the opera has two composers.

As a listener, I felt it wasn’t necessary to know which composer had written the music for which scene. The composers had clearly agreed on a unified approach, and both were unquestionably capable of setting the dramatic turns of the libretto to music in a way that captured the listener’s interest.

Tonality and slightly entertainment-leaning colors were not avoided, yet the musical language remained sophisticated, skillful, and expressive from beginning to end.

Under the baton of Nils Schweckendiek, the Pori Sinfonietta brought the orchestral fabric vividly to life, and the Pori Opera Choir—also key in producing many of the opera’s effects—performed with determination, strength, and full dedication.

The puppets, created by Viktor Antonov and representing the St. Petersburg tradition, had already generated interest in Pori prior to the actual Croak performances. The puppeteers were seven students of director Anna Ivanova-Brashinskaya, all trained in puppet theater.

During the first act, I found myself wishing the puppets had been given even more prominence. From the balcony, the live singers occasionally overshadowed the delicate-looking puppets under certain lighting conditions. Still, the puppets truly came into their own in the scenes where Croak—having made a pact with the devil-wolf and gained a seductively magnificent singing voice—commits murders of young women.

The second act, which focused on the love story between Croak and Olivia, featured stunningly sophisticated puppet sequences—such as the lovers riding together, and at the very end, Croak’s severed head floating after being killed by Olivia.

Every singing role was performed by a top-tier artist. Joonas Eloranta as Croak, Jouni Kokora as the Prince, and Merja Mäkelä as the Princess all delivered strong performances throughout.

Countertenor Teppo Lampela’s vocal brilliance in the role of the wolf stole the spotlight. And soprano Anna-Kristiina Kaappola brought an extraordinary sense of authority to her role, her connection to the Olivia puppet figure seeming almost magical.

To borrow a phrase from Master Peter in Don Quixote, Pori’s Croak can truly be called “one of the most remarkable sights of our time.”

March 6, 2018

How did the collaboration between two composers work in the opera Croak?

Premiering this Friday in Pori, Croak is an opera with two composers: Maria Kallionpää and Markku Klami. Or more precisely, they split the opera evenly, dividing the scenes between them.

The composers have known each other for a long time. They studied composition at the Sibelius Academy during the same period, have collaborated previously, and are also friends.

Originally, the opera was to be composed by Jouni Kaipainen. After his passing, Kallionpää and Klami began discussing the idea of working together. Neither had enough time to write a full opera on their own alongside other professional commitments.

The result, heard in Croak’s rehearsals, is strikingly varied and richly textured. The music captures the opera’s quick shifts in atmosphere with vivid clarity, supporting the darkly fairytale-like, drama-filled story—one that is not short on corpses.

The composer doesn’t change with every scene, but roughly every 20 minutes. At times, this transition was a creative advantage.

For example, in the seventh scene, the stage fills with the bodies of women. This is followed by a comedic bar scene.

“It was a good moment to also change composers, because the atmosphere shifts so dramatically,” says Klami.

Their work began two years ago. The two composers tied their sections together with shared musical motifs and harmonic ideas. They began by creating short musical sketches to represent characters and situations, then exchanged them with one another. Each worked independently but shared MIDI drafts throughout the process.

Klami is cautious about the idea of collective composing, which has become more common in contemporary music.

“Composing takes you deep into your own subconscious—how can you really share something that comes from that level? If everyone brings their own deepest layers into the process, the resulting work may suffer from compromise. In this case, it worked well because we both had the freedom to create our own interpretations.”

Both composers also sang through the vocal music they had written, to ensure it fit naturally with the voice.

“I studied classical singing when I was younger. I wouldn’t perform these pieces myself, but it’s helpful to be able to try them out,” Kallionpää says.

Conductor Nils Schweckendiek finds the dual-composer approach fascinating. He believes audiences will be able to tell who composed which parts, as the composers’ musical languages are quite distinct.

“Markku is an elegant composer whose harmonies blend smoothly from one to the next. Maria’s musical language is a bit more angular. She stays very close to the text and focuses intently on the expression of each moment, whereas Markku paints in broader strokes,” Schweckendiek explains.

Kallionpää also employs the full orchestra more often in her scenes compared to Klami.

“Having two composers brings variety to the orchestra, but it also presents a challenge when the style changes from scene to scene. The performers need to adapt their playing as well.”

Croak has a musical language entirely its own, though at times its textures, harmonies, and structures reminded Schweckendiek of Czech composer Leoš Janáček.