Director Christopher Gillett on Directing and Adapting Mozart’s The Impresario for BIF 2025
When Mozart’s The Impresario (Der Schauspieldirektor) first hit the stage, it was a knowing wink at the chaos of putting on a show – artistic egos, backstage politics, and the sheer absurdity of opera itself.
Centuries later, the challenge remains: how do you take that premise and make it sing for a modern audience?
Enter Christopher Gillett, tenor, director, and writer of the playlet that’s part of the production coming to Buxton this summer. Gillett takes us inside his process: where the jokes come from, why indignation is the funniest emotion, and how lovingly poking fun at opera is the best way to celebrate it.
“Write us a new version of Der Schauspieldirektor!” he said. “Carte Blanche! I just like the very first line — we have the permit! — so if you could keep that…”
So went my conversation with Waut Koeken, the Intendant (or Schauspieldirektor no less) of Opera Zuid.
This should be in my wheelhouse, I thought, so I said yes. Besides, I needed the work. As a tenor in his mid-sixties I wasn’t exactly fighting off the offers of singing jobs. (Surprising honesty — laying the foundations of funny.)
Carte Blanche are two terrifying words. Like PAGE and BLANK. Ask any writer, or composer for that matter. We like guardrails, things that set boundaries. We also like nicking ideas from other people.
That reversal of BLANK and PAGE, for instance? Oldest trick in the book. I could have added “but not necessarily in that order” to land the gag. But I have more taste. Or do I…?
So, what are my guardrails? The original piece was an obvious start. It’s a show about putting on an opera (like Noises Off is a play about putting on a play — more nicking to be done). My trade.
But what makes something funny?
Indignation. Explosive, nuclear indignation is my favourite sort of funny.
The ludicrous. That’s also funny, and there is something inherently ludicrous about opera. Everybody knows that, particularly those of us who do it for a living.
The funniest stories about opera always take place in operas that are deadly serious — Tosca bouncing back into view for starters. (Apart from when my breasts exploded in A Midsummer Night’s Dream in Rome. That was funny only because it wasn’t planned. But my character was trying to be desperately earnest at the time, not trying to be funny. VERY important.)
Now if I’d written there ‘when my tits exploded’ that would have been funnier because you wouldn’t expect me to use the word tits in an article for a respectable opera festival in the Peak District. (See also the works of Bill Bryson and David Sedaris.) An opportunity missed.
Saying out loud the things that convention says we should keep under wraps — funny.
Chuck in a few silly situations (but avoid embarrassment humour), and a few oddball characters, and there you go.
Generally and LOVINGLY (so important) take the piss (see above re tits) out of opera. Job done.
God, I hope it’s funny.
The Impresario will be at The Buxton Opera House on 17, 21, 24, 26 July 2025. Get your tickets here!