The Opéra de Lyon is set to host an all-new production of Giorgio Battistelli’s opera 7 minuti. Composed in 2018 thanks to a commission from the Opéra National de Lorraine, 7 minuti made its world premiere in Nancy in 2019. The work is based on a play by Stefano Massini, which in turn took its cue from a true story that took place in France.
The Subject
An old textile mill with a glorious past is bought up by a multinational corporation based in the United States. At first, it appears as though no layoffs are in sight, and factory and office staff heave a sigh of relief. However, the ownership presses the company’s eleven union representatives to sign a clause that would rob workers of seven minutes from their lunch break. After all, what’s a mere seven minutes? One woman takes a stand against the move. Her cohorts voice their objections and wind up revealing key moments of their life stories in the runup to the vote.
Our Interview with Giorgio Battistelli
What does working on this opera, seven years after you wrote it, mean to you? What changes, if any, did you make? What do you think makes this work relevant today?
The way I think of writing is, there’s always this duality involved, especially when you’re dealing with the revival of an opera. On the one hand, there’s the technique in terms of the composition, which over the years changes, evolves, and may be considered to be subject to continuous transformation. Then again, I’m like, hey, I don’t want to mess with stuff that’s already been laid down. Although, when it comes to the rewrite, why not? The thing is, some operas age badly, after only a short time, on account of the subject. That’s because the subjects get worn out and tired, and have little to do with what’s going on in the present. I’d like to think that 7 minuti is different – that it still means something. That it resonates. That there’s the whole thematic that revolves around the crucial right to work and personal dignity. This opera aims at making people reflect, at prodding them to ask questions.
As far as all this speeding up of things goes of late, how is musical theater adapting? What does staging an opera like this mean today – a work so connected to events unfolding in real time?
I’ve always considered opera one of mankind’s greatest inventions, a mirror of the things that happen in the world we live in – which is definitely a heterogeneous world that combines a wealth of expressions within a context of structural unity. Not just comfort and entertainment – no, we’re talking a way to reflection. And each reflection may be viewed from a standpoint that is ethical or moral, as well as technical and compositional. Composers have always been divided when it comes to how to permute musical material, and at the same time touch upon themes with an ethical and moral content that lend a meaning to the composer’s place in society.
For years, people have been mesmerized by opera, in terms of technique. Subjects, it seemed, were just thrown in there for the purposes of semantics, and had little to do with the overall works. But things changed when we began looking at numbers – crowd sizes, social media. If opera was going to break out, it had to expand to circuits that included film, which until recently had been neglected. This seeking to appeal to the general public led, inevitably, to changes in compositional techniques. The focus leaned more toward a seductive approach, a straight shot at what would become increasingly political issues, i.e., wars around the globe, diseases that had global implications. Opera also turned its attention to the silver screen’s greatest hits, as well as to the big guns of world literature. When you start with a film script – I’ve written several operas based on blockbuster films – you’ve got to home in on the dramaturgical elements that can be developed in terms of musical theater. It’s not like every novel or every movie can be transformed into an opera. The script needs a certain amount of the right kind of plot twists that lend the whole suitable for the opera format. There are novels that are born out of the written word, and that’s where they live – and it’s impossible to transform them into musical theater. It’s a whole other ballgame.
When compared to a novel, think of a film script as a sort of session with your therapist. It sums up the narrative that the novel lays out. Read a novel – the whole timeframe is different from the way you experience the same story in film or opera form. On the one hand, you lose something, on the other, there’s much to gain. Say, for example, you appropriate this or that title – be it from a work of fiction, a film, a poem – without developing the original content. What you’re doing is using that as an element for communication as opposed to a dramaturgical tool. Thus, what you’re dealing with is a form of consumption, which in the short term may prove highly efficacious. But in the long run, this approach seems hardly worth the effort.
How did you manage to pick out and orchestrate the various musical portrayals of the eleven women involved in the performance?
I worked on this with Stefano Massini. In the book, the viewpoints of the women were already clear. Each character deals with a different issue. Different contexts, different ages, different needs. A reflection of what we’re dealing with workwise. Lots of homogeneity in terms of vocal range – ten sopranos, one contralto. That allowed me to create a sense of togetherness, a group feeling. The eleven women on stage might as well have been two hundred. They represented the workers in that textile mill that had been sold to an American multinational corporation. The unified vocal register, laced with nuances here and there, lends a sense of collective solidarity. Each single voice does have its own character – which is something I insisted upon from the start, in terms of articulation and phrasing. For example, there’s the gritty young voice, with a rattled focus that’s rhythm-driven and to the point; the soft-spoken voice of the girl with the broad-based phrasing; their jittery, introverted companion who provides background; another, uncertain wailing. A differentiation in phrasing prevails and provides the key. The result is a homogeneous fresco of female voices – eleven, to be exact – that interact and speak to one another. We hear them discuss their situations and problems. Up close, individually. As we draw back, collectively. A portrait of a group whose elements prove distinct and poised to vindicate their individuality and freedom.
Each woman ponders what she’s going to say once she returns home. They’re all afraid they may lose their jobs. The three brief chorus parts represent the women’s families – their relatives awaiting the latest news, outside the factory. In the meantime, crowds anticipate the arrival of union representatives to take up their cause.
Go to composer's catalogue
Photo: Giorgio Battistelli (c) Lorenzo Montanelli