ENO’s new show is the UK premiere of Detlev Glanert’s 2006 opera Caligula. Based on a play by Albert Camus, it tells the story of Rome’s most notorious emperor, a man famous for incest, torture and all-round depravity. But this new production has only a passing acquaintance with Ancient Rome. The set is a modern day football stadium, its rows of cheap plastic seats in sharp contrast with the lush decor of the theatre. The cast meanwhile don businessmen’s suits and camouflage, leaving the audience with few doubts as to the opera’s relevance. This is the world of Pinochet and Mugabe, not men in togas.

The story is simple: following the death of his sister, Caligula goes mad. Convinced that, “Men die, and they are not happy”, he embarks on a sadistic campaign designed to prove his own superiority to the human condition. Director Benedict Andrews conveys his descent through a series of fantastically bizarre images. The stadium is soon crammed with everything from clowns, litter-pickers, and dancing girls to one man wearing what appeared to be a Kermit costume. It’s like a macabre vision of the Olympic opening ceremony; a fascinating insight into Caligula’s intelligent but thoroughly disturbed mind.

In large part, the opera’s success is bound up with a magnetic performance by Peter Coleman-Wright. His Caligula is a chameleon figure, initially appearing like a weather-beaten hermit then rapidly shifting into a sharply dressed politician. Later, he even veers into drag, wearing the costume of Venus in his attempt to supplant the gods. Throughout, Coleman-Wright juggles humour and sadism with skill. Caligula’s madness manifests itself in extravagant displays of childishness, with food fights and petty tricks. And yet this apparently innocent behaviour takes on sinister undertones, becoming more about his ability to exercise power. The result is an opera that manages to be darkly witty, while at the same time thoroughly disturbing.

The score helps too. Despite the lurid subject matter, the music is surprisingly restrained. Rather than showy tricks, Glanert subtly conjures up an air of menace. The discords and low threatening drones of brass and strings convey unbearable tension. And the large chorus is used to exquisite effect, with their ascending melodic phrases evoking a sense of both devotion and insanity. In one of the most powerful scenes, the chorus sings hymns of praise while Caligula’s soldiers pile body bags on the front of the stage. It’s provocative, disturbing stuff that combines great music with a political message designed to shock.

Admittedly, the production doesn’t have anything particularly original to say about the reasons for Caligula’s descent into insanity. Nor does it spend much time exploring the condition of the people that Caligula is busy oppressing: they tend to crop up as just passive victims. But that doesn’t stop Glanert and Andrews giving us a compelling picture of the mind of a dictator. With the fate of the revolutions in the Arab world still hanging in the balance, it feels like timely stuff.

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Photos: Johan Persson

Caligula is at the Coliseum, London until 14 June. Book tickets.

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