Satyagraha (“The Truth Force”) was held as a one-night exclusive opera performance at Hamer Hall on Saturday 13 May. Curated by influential composer Phillip Glass and supported by a star-studded cast, including Indian-born tenor Shanul Sharma as Gandhi, high expectations were set for this opera from the very first brochure advert. For my first opera experience, I went in blind, with limited expectations.

Spanning a period of two and a half hours, we were greeted by lead performer (Shanul Sharma) dressed all in white, likening his image to Gandhi himself. The first act started immediately after the audience was seated and I was instantly captivated not only by the highly polished accompanying ensemble, but by the singers themselves, who each embodied their parts with a spirit and passion that gave life to their characters. However, it soon became apparent that the audience would not be provided much context to the story unfolding.  White text floated on a blank background behind the performers, adorned with vague quotes that often repeated the message:  “disposing of one’s earthly attachments gave true weight to one’s actions”. And although the first act was well-sustained, I found that after this, my interest waned, purely because of a lack of context.  I struggled to keep up, often wondering  which part of the story we were up to. My attention would have been better held if  the text in the background had more relevance to the story or was even accompanied by pictures. Phillip Glass himself said that “[he doesn’t] like using language to convey meaning. [He would] rather use images and music”, hence why the archaic language of Sanskrit was used for this opera. The lack of images, therefore, seemed to be at odds with what the music was trying to achieve.

The moment that I remember most vividly was the scene with Mrs. Alexander (Sian Sharp), the superintendent’s wife, who protected Gandhi using an umbrella as he was being attacked. I was utterly enchanted by  Sharp’s performance: the strength of her body language and the conviction in her voice portrayed the very power and conviction with which Mrs. Alexander must have historically protected Gandhi in real life.  And although I am no expert on Gandhi’s journey, this moment was arguably the highlight of the opera, managing to transcend beyond just a performance and imbibe itself as a reflection of reality. I was truly moved by her performance.

However, this is where the appreciation fades. The rest of the acts were confusing, failing to leave their mark and I often felt the lead’s role ebbing as the presence of his accompanying singers made more of an impact—especially the performances given by Rachelle Durkin as Mrs Schlesen and Richard Anderson as Parsi Rustomji/Lord Krishna. In the final act, when we reach one of Gandhi’s most pivotal protests, I thought that we would see him as a fully realised figure, clad in simple white robes and still maintaining his principal message of non-violence. However, the simplicity of Gandhi’s message was lost within the lush purple velvet and intricate golden embroidery of the jacket worn by Sharma, which came at odds with the significance of the final act; the elaborate nature of his garments portrayed a Gandhi that had not yet given up all earthly attachments. The historical reality of Gandhi at this stage was a figure revered and respected for the power behind his message, not for his status, clothing or connections.

In saying this, the immense time and effort dedicated by both cast and musicians was made obvious by the impact of their individual performances. It was clear that this opera was an emotional investment, especially for Sharma, who appeared especially moved by the applause at stage call. Had the overarching scenes themselves been imbued with the same emotion and clarity of message, however, it would have matched the performers’ intentions and carried greater impact overall.