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An Article by Our UAE Contributor from AbuDhabi MA (658 words, 3 min. read)
I did not walk into the opera in Zayed Sports City expecting nostalgia.
What I encountered instead was discipline, courage, and something far rarer: respect.
From the very first note of Antar wa Abla, I understood that this was not an attempt to “adapt” Arabic culture for the operatic stage. It was an insistence that it already belongs there. Presented in Abu DhabiThis opera did not borrow the language of Europe. Yet it mastered it, then spoke Arabic through it with confidence.
This is where Lebanese art leads the way: not by diluting identity, but by keeping it intact into the most demanding international forms.
The Sound of Authority, Not Imitation
What I heard in the music of Maroun el Rahi, revised and orchestrated by Nadim Tarabay, was authority. The music followed the strict architecture of European opera—its dramatic pacing, its orchestral balance, its vocal demands—without once betraying the emotional gravity of Arab storytelling.
Nothing was ornamental. Nothing was folkloric. Arabic was not used as color; it was used as structure. The language held long phrases, tragedy, heroism, silence. Sitting there, I realized how rarely Arab culture is allowed this level of seriousness on the world stage, and how naturally it fits when entrusted to the right hands.
Words That Know When to Hold Back
The libretto by Antoine Maalouf did something I deeply admire: it resisted excess. The legend of Antar is immense, violent, passionate. Yet the text never rushed to impress. It allowed the music to carry emotion and left space for breath, for pause, for dignity.
Abla was not reduced to a symbol. Antar was not glorified without consequence. The story unfolded with restraint, the kind that opera demands and that Lebanese intellectual tradition understands well—where silence often speaks louder than declaration.
Carrying a Vision on One’s Shoulders
As I watched Antar on stage, I could not separate the role from the responsibility carried by Amine J. Hachem. He was not only performing; he was holding the entire project together.
It takes a particular kind of courage to believe that an Arabic opera—sung in Arabic, structured like a European opera, uncompromised—can stand on an international stage. Hachem did not argue this belief. He built it. Note by note, partnership by partnership, voice by voice.
What I witnessed was conviction rather than ambition.
Direction That Trusted the Music
The staging by Andrew J. Hachem understood something essential: opera does not need explanation. It needs space. His direction never competed with the score. It trusted the singers, the orchestra, and the audience.
Nothing felt forced. Movement emerged from necessity, not spectacle. This restraint allowed the Lebanese sensibility—measured, emotional, layered—to surface naturally within a European operatic framework.
Why Lebanese Art Leads
Watching Antar wa AblaI thought about Lebanon, not as geography, but as temperament. Lebanese artists are raised between cultures, trained to listen before translating, to understand structure before rebellion. This is why Lebanese art so often leads internationally: it knows how to enter established systems without losing its voice.
This opera did not break the rules of European opera. It honored them. And by honoring them fully, it proved that Arab culture does not need to change to belong. It just needs to be taken seriously.
Leaving the Hall
When the final note faded, I did not feel I had witnessed an “Arab opera experiment.” I felt I had seen an opera—period. One that happened to carry the weight of desert, history, and Arabic poetry within a form that has existed for centuries.
That is how culture moves forward by standing, singing, and remaining unmistakably itself.
- We commend the performances by Antar Amin Hachem, Abla Maryam Mouawad, Shaddad Fady Jeanbart, Mared Tayy Cesar Naassy, Chayboub Pierre Sammia, Amara Abs Seba Abi Younes, Salma Mireille Bitar, and members of the Antonin University Choir.
