Tom Sutcliffe

Sideshow winner

From our UK edition

I thought my 27th Wexford Opera Festival since 1972 was going to be one of the best. I had seen and enjoyed the Cilea and Chabrier operas on the bill at Holland Park and Opera North in the 1990s, and I was intrigued whether Delius’s A Village Romeo and Juliet was viable music theatre. Wexford veterans are used to disappointment and surprise success. We know why Glyndebourne audiences go with the flow and enjoy themselves, there being dinner, gardens, atmosphere and ticket prices to dissolve criticism. Wexford is cheaper: €25 to €130 a night for the main operas, less for sideshows. But most visitors make a three-night excursion with b&b as minimum. In the old days, it was a drinking as well as an opera festival — a tradition started by Compton Mackenzie.

Where Rowan went wrong

From our UK edition

Rowan Williams will step down at the end of 2012, having been Primate of All England for a decade. It is already clear that his term of office has been disastrous. Church people have affection for him, respect even. He is not blamed for the disaster, since he is only doing a job he was asked to do — not one he sought. He was a bishop of the Church in Wales almost by accident, because of his academic fame, not because he had ever wanted to be a career bishop. Nobody has accused him of ambition, though there is perhaps a little vanity there — about his poetry and his interest in the remoter depths of philosophy and theology.

Going solo in Ireland

From our UK edition

Wexford’s remarkable opera house is as good a symbol as any of the Irish financial meltdown. The auditorium is fabulous, and not just acoustically. The building — funded by the Irish government just before the banks collapsed — is now the trump card that has preserved the Wexford Festival as Ireland’s sole surviving operatic gesture. There was a brief fantasy moment when a previous culture minister talked about creating an Irish national company in Dublin, and the Arts Council of Ireland said it would provide over €5 million for the artform. But dream on. Instead, Opera Ireland has been wound up and Opera Theatre Company reduced to a shadow. Wexford is the wrong place to have built Ireland’s only opera house.

Troubled Wexford

From our UK edition

The new Wexford Opera House has certainly raised the profile of opera in Ireland. You cannot argue with a prize-winning building that is one of just four large purpose-built opera auditoriums in these islands, alongside Glyndebourne, Covent Garden and the Wales Millennium Centre. Built with Irish taxpayers’ money, it would be a sick Irish joke to mothball the place within a year of its grand successful opening. Yet the Wexford Festival’s obsession with traditional dress-code (black tie, long frocks) adds to the feeling that opera belongs to a class with alien tastes. Meanwhile, even the Abbey Theatre — which scoffs the lion’s share of Irish performing-arts subsidy — has no permanent ensemble.

Wexford winner

From our UK edition

The Irish government has spent €27 million on a stunning new opera house in Wexford, which is having a flawless and crisis-free baptism in the current opera festival there. The old Theatre Royal was knocked down in November 2005, and the money the festival managed to raise was just €6 million of the €33 million total building cost. But the architects Ciaran McGahon, from the Irish Office of Public Works, and the British theatre specialist Keith Williams have squeezed an almost 800-seat house on to the old site — expanded by the addition of the neighbouring area formerly occupied by the Wexford People newspaper printworks.

Awkward member of the squad

From our UK edition

Peter Hall and Richard Eyre both published diaries about their time running the National Theatre, edited in Hall’s case by his head of PR, John Goodwin. Alan Bennett’s diaries are a bestseller. So are Joe Orton’s, with their devotion over a mere eight months to extra-curricular, often subterranean activity. The ‘celebrity diary’ as a literary phenomenon benefits from the current profitable obsession with biography. But Lindsay Anderson’s diaries are another thing. He kept them intermittently for about 50 years, if he could be bothered — which he couldn’t during the depression of his last two years.