At the heart of most operas there is a love triangle or quadrangle, and how it is worked out depends on the complicating factors created by the context in which the lovers find themselves. Such is the case with Martinu’s The Greek Passion, based on Nikos Kazantzkis’ novel Christ Recrucified, co-produced by Opera North and Den Norske Opera

Lenio and Manolios are engaged to be married, and Lenio is agitating for her betrothed to set a date when, at Easter, after the annual enactment of the Passion, the village elders agree the villagers to take the lead parts in the next year’s enactment. The priest abjures Manolios, allocated the role of Christ, to make himself worthy to bear the Cross. Meanwhile, Katerina is Mary Magdalene and her lover Panait is to be Judas. A further complication is the arrival of refugees, seeking land and food, burnt out of their village by the Turks. They are allowed to stay on the nearby mountain. 

Charles Edwards’ set and lighting are stark. A makeshift grandstand dominates the stage initially, with villagers munching crisps and drinking lager. The refugees carry life-size white male and female figures in a sitting position, left sitting on the grandstand which, in due course, is wheeled round, revealing the scaffolding at the back. Then there are tables and chairs.

An old man (Dean Robinson) among the refugees carries the bones of his ancestors (a white figure on his back). When the refugees dig the foundations for their new homes, he asks to be buried in them and dies; his white figure ascends to the flies.

Nicky Spence is a conflicted Manolios, persuaded into the part by Lenio, but then distancing himself as he digs deeper into himself for the role of Christ and as he acknowledges his sexual desire for Katerina (rich-voiced Magdalena Molendowska).  His character grows from diffidence into strength, his final aria powerfully delivered. Katerina, the first to show compassion to the refugees, is disturbed by Manolios invading her dreams. Jeffrey Lloyd-Roberts as the reluctant Judas becomes jealous of her developing interest.

Lorna James’s clear, sweet-toned soprano does not jar with Lenio’s punkish attitude. Despairing of Manolios, she marries Nikolio; Alex Banfield’s easy grace contrasts with Manolios’ awkwardness.  
The two priests - Grigoris (Stephen Gadd) and Fotis (John Savourin) – are well-matched, their stand-off eloquent. Savourin’s anguish at the plight of his refugees is vivid.  Paul Nilon’s bumbling postman Yannokos is well-meaning as the apostle Peter.

As the tension between villagers and refugees mounts and Manolios becomes more fervent, Grigoris excommunicates him; shortly after, Panait clubs him to death with the Cross.

The chorus-work is good – a rousing Kyrie Eleison at the end of Act 2, for example – and director Christopher Alden arranges the apostles in tableaux reminiscent of piétas. Conductor Garry Walker marshalls the varied orchestra - including accordion, harpsichord and recorder – with aplomb. The conversational style of the singing and, at times, quite thin musical texture plus the English libretto makes for immediacy. These refugees are starving and freezing as the villagers celebrate Christmas.