Opera becomes phantom.

THE SAGA OF SYDNEY OPERA HOUSE 

By Peter Murray, London; Spon Press. 2003. [pounds sterling]19.99

'The Tragedy of Sydney Opera House' might have been a more appropriate title for this book which, were it not for the physical result of all the pain, smeared reputations and shattered friendships, is a dazzling jewel.

Murray tells what he describes as 'an altogether more complex and difficult story' than the 'received history' of the Opera House, which we architects generally prefer to see as the heroic, but ultimately doomed, battle of Genius against The Philistines. He makes as balanced as possible a presentation of the facts, remaining documentation and remembrances of the protagonists, from which the unavoidable conclusion must be drawn that Utzon brought many of his troubles upon himself by his lofty (and, one must say, deserved) regard for his own authorship, and by his perfectionism--constantly re-thinking and refining his designs despite the pressures of cost and time-telling Jack Zunz of Ove Arup & Partners, after one change: 'I don't care what it costs, I don't care what scandal it causes, I don't care how long it takes, but that's what I want'.

Other troubles were brought to Utzon by the dramatically changing requirements of the users, by the conflicting and changing opinions of acoustics consultants, and by the demands of creating architecture not merely at, but beyond the edge of the possible. As Utzon argued at the time, 'It is not I, but the Sydney Opera House that creates all the enormous difficulties'.

Murray emphasizes that this 'timeless' Opera House can only be fully understood by appreciating the restrictions and the culture of the era in which it was produced. In 1957 it took three days to fly from London to Sydney. The architect--at least in Denmark--was the undisputed leader of the building team. Structural calculations that today can be made in fractions of a second, then took a couple of weeks to complete. The Opera House farrago, Murray suggests, advanced not only methods of structural analysis and construction techniques, but also unintentionally argued the case for project management, and for limited, rather than open, architectural competitions where organizers can check architects' track-records before inviting them to participate. Were the competition to be held today, an Utzon would be unlikely to get beyond the stage of 'expressions of interest stage'.

Ironically, therefore, the publication of this book coincides with the invitation to Utzon, from the Sydney Opera House Trust, to prepare guidelines for a refurbishment programme that will bring the building more in line with his original intentions, and which will continue many decades after his eventual passing. As such, he is designing alterations that he will never see for a building that he has never seen--having left Australia 37 years ago, immediately after he was sacked (or resigned, the situation remains ambiguous)--never to return.

This fascinating and exhaustively-researched volume narrates a tragic story of misjudgements, mistrust and misunderstandings, and is a discussion of human rather than architectural qualities. The translation of Utzon's competition drawings--described by art critic Robert Hughes as 'nothing more than a magnificent doodle'--into the pure expression of Joy that now adorns Bennelong Point, occupied and very nearly broke, many of the most brilliant constructors of the twentieth century. This book lays bare, often very painfully, the personal costs that a Masterwork can sometimes demand as tribute from its creators.