Desperate Measures_ **Chapter 1: Stardust** Bare-knuckle boxing, a Victorian-style bar, jazz music and dancing. Not your usual dinner-party fare. But it was that evening at the Royal Opera House in central London in 2010 when the renowned British conductor, Simon Rattle, made his debut in a new production of Verdi's _La Traviata_. Opera is a huge financial risk for any company and one that Rattle's German-based Glyndebourne Festival, a touring organisation that has since made an impact on the West End, had been persuaded to embark on. But _La Traviata_ , as Verdi's beloved _La Dame aux Camélias_ , was deemed to be the perfect vehicle for the conductor's first foray into the world of opera. And Rattle was to have an interesting time with it. For some time, Rattle had been looking for something that would bring a new audience to opera. He was aware that many potential listeners no longer wanted to put on their pompoms for, and stand up and shout, _'Vissi d'arte!'_ (as Verdi himself had done). His aim, then, was to keep hold of his natural audience of jazz lovers while giving opera a makeover for the new generation. The problem, however, lay in the fact that Verdi's opera was not an opera at all but a grand opera. Although the libretto is based on a 1853 French novel by the same name, Verdi, and the composer's librettist, Francesco Maria Piave, had no interest in the original story or characters. Instead they were to serve as a backdrop for Verdi's use of the then latest musical technology of operatic writing – bel canto. This was the first in a string of Verdi operas that embraced a lighter style of music than had gone before and, as such, had a huge influence on subsequent composers, particularly that 'grand' composer Richard Strauss. Verdi's early experiments, albeit in response to an audience that was not immediately accepting of the works, can be seen to have paved the way for one of the most highly regarded operatic voices in history, that of tenor, Enrico Caruso. For a generation, the opera's reputation and, hence, its audience base in Britain and the US, was built on the fame and voice of Caruso, the legendary singing tenor from Naples. But when he died in 1921 at the height of his fame, so too did the popularity of _La Traviata_. From here, _La Traviata_ was to go on to have its ups and downs. There were attempts to resurrect its fortunes in the 1960s when Joan Sutherland's performances at Covent Garden did wonders for the opera's international profile. But then came the 'disco' era in the 1970s and '80s, and opera once again started to be regarded as the domain of the old and, to use another rather unpleasant term for it, the bourgeoisie. As a result of this situation, the Royal Opera House decided to mount a series of performances of Verdi's work in its main auditorium that were aimed, primarily, at a younger audience. Rattle – a passionate supporter of new opera – had been made aware that the opera house wanted to encourage this audience to attend the performances. So at the age of just 26, Rattle's debut at Glyndebourne brought him straight into the spotlight. Rattle, for his part, was happy to be back at Glyndebourne. In 2006 he had conducted the first and only opera production at the Glyndebourne since the 1950s. _Cosi Fan Tutte_ , Mozart's comic opera of mistaken identity, had been a success with the audience and with Rattle, so much so that the run was extended to two weeks – something that he had only seen once before in his long career. It was a rare musical event for a new generation, and at a time when ticket prices for opera were escalating to the tune of 100 per cent. With all these considerations in mind, the opera house had worked out its own strategy to give opera lovers, young and old, what they wanted. Newer opera singers would make up the cast, as this would attract a younger audience. But a traditional staging would still feature the music, so opera traditionalists could enjoy their favourites. In addition to this, the performances would be sold at what were then affordable prices, particularly if such shows were also to be broadcast on BBC Radio 3. The combination of a youthful audience and a young cast of singers produced a young opera audience. And, if these people were allowed to enjoy such shows, they might well be happy to attend future performances, thereby expanding the audience for the works and, consequently, the future of opera itself. Of course, this was a gamble. Although a bold move, it was still a gamble. But, to Rattle, with his passion for all things new and modern in music, it also represented an opportunity. And, like most gamblers, he had his winnings and his losses to show for it. One win, however, was sufficient for Rattle to continue with what had been called his 'experiment'. And this is what Rattle did. At Glyndebourne he would become one of opera's busiest and most high-profile directors in recent years, and would bring some of opera's most modern and daring young singers to the audiences. During his debut with the London-based company, Rattle found himself – unexpectedly – facing some of the opera-going audience from the past. They were the elderly members of the audience who were regulars at performances of the Royal Opera's main production of _La Traviata_ , which – although it was staged by another company – was often performed at the same time as Rattle's production. Rattle had been aware of the elderly opera-goers and had sought to make them feel welcome in his production. He was happy to see that his efforts seemed to be appreciated by these elderly audience members. But, as for the young opera lovers, he needed their attention, their money and their enthusiasm. And he needed them to understand that _La Traviata_ was a very special story that could not easily be ignored. So, to encourage their audiences to attend the shows and listen to the story of the doomed lovers, Rattle would incorporate a little magic. He would add a touch of surrealism and imagination to his productions. In doing so, he was consciously attempting to bring opera back to the audience, to make it part of their lives. The young and old alike were brought up on a mixture of myths and stories from classical Rome, where they were made aware of many of the fables that the ancient Greeks told their young people. To these they were taught some moral lessons and, with these stories, it was not hard to introduce the mythical characters from Greek mythology. Inevitably, we would be introduced to the gods. **The Myth of Ariadne** It was in mythical Greece, then, that the legend of the Athenian princess Ariadne first entered the world. She was the daughter of King Minos and Queen Pasiphaë, the Minotaur and the half-bull, half-man offspring of Daedalus, who had been a highly skilled craftsman who had left Athens, and had fled to Crete to escape the wrath of King Minos. From this strange tale, we learn how Daedalus (although he was to die during the tale) made wings for himself and his son, Icarus, with which to escape from Crete. Icarus was not able to fly. His wings got too hot and, in trying to extricate himself from the sea, he fell into the sea and drowned. Minos then sent a group of boys and men to capture Daedalus and to bring him back to Crete. He was to be put on trial for his life, as a result of the death of Icarus and the loss of the Daedalus' expertise in building. But Daedalus would not be caught so easily. He built a wooden cow, covered it with wax and threw it into the sea. However, the tide would not allow the cow to float, so he covered the cow with feathers so that the sea would lift it in the air. Then he used ivy to construct two wings and placed his son Icarus onto the wings so that they could rise from the sea and escape Crete. So Ariadne had already travelled to Athens with her father, King Minos, on one of his ships when her father's queen, Pasiphaë, fell in love with a visitor from Crete. She asked the visitor, a bull, to lie down with her. In doing so, she would give birth to a creature who would be half-bull and half-woman. This would be the half-bull, half-man Minotaur that she gave birth to. She had taken her father's visitor as a lover. But when she discovered that she had fallen pregnant, she was enraged by this and ordered Daedalus to build a huge wooden cow and then cover it with wax to represent the body of a woman. When it was completed, Minos made Daedalus' son, Icarus, Icarus' hand was dipped in the blood of the Minotaur. He could only do this if he was on Crete, as it was prohibited in Athens