The Galloping Cure

Opera Director Dan Turdén — On Everything That Happened Before 

How went that to when Norrland Opera drug getting started his largest international co-production Ever? Our artistic editorial within opera says. 

I’d like to apologize in advance to readers for some name-dropping. Every person mentioned has played a vital role in making it possible for Norrlandsoperan to present *The Galloping Cure* to you tonight. There isn’t enough space here to list everyone who contributed from start to finish—there are simply too many to count. This is the story of what happened before there was a libretto, before there was music, before singers and a director were needed, before a conductor began leafing through a score, before tickets could be sold.

As the newly appointed opera director at Norrlandsoperan in the spring of 2021, I saw the 50th anniversary fast approaching. Given Norrlandsoperan’s history of commissioning new operas despite its relatively small size, I felt that the best way to celebrate our 50th anniversary was with a brand-new opera premiere. But who would write it?

I made a short list of names that I knew, in all practical terms, would be impossible to secure, but which were the ones I dreamed of most. At the top of that list was the American composer Missy Mazzoli, already one of the most hyped composers on the international opera scene. I had heard her and librettist Royce Vavrek’s breakthrough work, *Breaking the Waves* — an adaptation of Lars von Trier’s film of the same name—and had been blown away. The intensity of the storytelling, the effective libretto, the melodies, and the soundscape—all of which perfectly capture von Trier’s world while creating something of its own, something independent of its source material.

On a whim, I reached out to Missy and asked to meet with her. We met on Teams. Due to the time difference, I was sitting in the Norrlandsoperan’s smallest guest apartment at Kungsgatan 27 A, which I had rented for a short time, while she was in her studio apartment in Manhattan with a fascinating psychedelic wallpaper as a backdrop. On the wall behind me hung a mass-produced, unframed print of the Brooklyn Bridge.

That meeting was followed by another one, this time attended by publisher Peggy Monastra and Missy’s partner Royce. I don’t remember if the Brooklyn Bridge was visible in the background then either, but it’s not out of the question. For some unfathomable reason, both Missy and Royce were really excited about the idea. There was just one catch: 2024–25 was out of the question due to their already scheduled commitments. I won’t bore readers with the details of how we stayed in touch, but we did, and we agreed to set aside the anniversary year and look further into the future for the seasons that followed.

At Ingmar Bergman’s farm, Hammars, on Fårö in the summer of 2021, Royce asked me what kind of opera I was actually most interested in. It was a difficult question, but I know I blurted out that I was looking for something contemporary—something that’s about us here and now—a story driven by a complex dilemma and an idea that isn’t an adaptation of another work.

In March 2022, I received an email from Royce in which he presented their initial concept for *The Galloping Cure*. The concept was based on a new synopsis by Karen Russell and addressed the spiraling opioid crisis in the U.S., filtered through Franz Kafka’s short story “A Doctor in the Country.” The idea hit the nail on the head in terms of what I had been trying to articulate as what I wanted most from a newly written opera.

But I also realized two things: this couldn’t be a story that became a matter solely for the Norrlandsoperan and the Umeå audience—the idea was too good not to reach a wider audience—and that this would require funding that the Norrlandsoperan couldn’t provide on its own. From our respective corners, publisher Peggy and I tried to spark interest among other opera houses. Even though there was interest, nothing is ever certain in the opera world until “the fat lady sings.” Funding remains a headache. But God hears our prayers.

In October 2022, completely out of the blue, I was contacted by Olle Jansson, the dean of the Theater Academy during my time as a student there, who told me that he was serving as an expert on an evaluation panel for the Riksbank’s Jubilee Fund and, in that role, was reaching out to various cultural organizations in Sweden to gauge their interest in participating in a call for proposals from a new grant program run by the fund, RJ Konst och Kultur. The funding was intended to finance cultural projects inspired by research funded by the Riksbank’s Jubilee Fund. “Quite substantial sums may be available.” “Well, the Norrland Opera is definitely interested,” was my understated reply. A new process began, and through RJ, I was put in touch with researchers Susanne Lundin and Mats G. Hansson, who had conducted research directly applicable to Missy’s and Royce’s idea. They were also interested in letting me review their research for the purpose of writing the application.

To write such an application, you need expertise in both the academic world and the performing arts; personally, I don’t know the first thing about the academic world. There was only one person I trusted to be able to draft such a text so that it would be comprehensible and credible enough to generate the rather substantial sums that would be needed: Kristina Hagström-Ståål, who holds a Ph.D. in performance studies from Berkeley and works as a director herself—intelligent as few others and with a sharp pen. I pitched the idea to her at Balders Bröd in downtown Sollentuna, and she accepted. This was in August 2023. With some help from yours truly, Kristina put together an application that made me very hopeful, but the competition for funding from RJ Konst och Kultur would be fierce, so once the application was submitted, all we could do was keep our fingers crossed. On December 6, 2023, the response arrived. Application approved. Cake at work.

Meanwhile, Peggy, Missy, and Royce had managed to sell the idea to producer John Berry—a legend in the opera world who, through his pro bono production company Opera Ventures Productions, had been instrumental in the enormous success of *Breaking the Waves*, among other projects. Together with John, his team, and his global network, the production was able to achieve the impact that Missy’s and Royce’s idea deserved. And it was probably around this time that the real work of creating the piece and putting together the production began. Perhaps I’ll write more about that another time.

Following its world premiere by our partner, Scottish Opera, at the Edinburgh International Festival, the production has been staged at the opera house on Operaplan. Together with the directing team of Tom Morris and Leah Hausman—themselves titans of the international opera scene—the staff of Norrlandsoperan, both permanent employees and freelance collaborators, have worked harder and with greater dedication than could ever be expected. It has been an exhausting few weeks since August 17 to get the production up and running. Here, I must highlight project manager Esther von Schönberg’s tireless dedication—always with the production’s best interests in mind—and the entire ensemble, led by conductor Jessica Cottis. My heart is filled with humble gratitude for all the hard work that has been put in, after everything that happened before.

The good news is that we are human,

We are blessed with the ability to feel.

The opposite would be devastating:

An inescapable numbness.

I can’t cure you, but I can listen.

You’re begging for answers I don’t have.

There are no simple solutions.

There is no easy solution.

Theresa’s first aria, lyrics by Royce Vavrek

Dan Turdén, Artistic Director of Opera, Norrlandsoperan

Opera Director Dan Turdén—On Everything That Happened Before

How did Norrlandsoperan launch its largest international co-production ever? Our artistic director for opera explains.

I’d like to apologize in advance to readers for mentioning a few names. Everyone mentioned here played a vital role in making it possible for Norrlandsoperan to present *The Galloping Cure* to you tonight. There isn’t enough space to list everyone who contributed from start to finish—there are simply too many to count. This is the story of what happened before there was a libretto, before there was music, before singers and a director were needed, before a conductor began flipping through a score, before tickets could be sold.

In the spring of 2021, as the newly appointed opera director at Norrlandsoperan, I could see the 50th anniversary fast approaching. Given Norrlandsoperan’s history of commissioning new operas despite its relatively modest size, I felt the best way to celebrate our 50th anniversary was with the premiere of a brand-new opera. But who would write it?

I made a short list of names that I knew, in practice, would be impossible to secure but were the ones I dreamed of most. At the top of that list was the American composer Missy Mazzoli, already one of the most talked-about composers on the international opera scene. I had heard her and librettist Royce Vavrek’s breakthrough work, Breaking the Waves—an adaptation of Lars von Trier’s film of the same name—and had been blown away. The intensity of the storytelling, the effective libretto, the melodies, and the soundscape that fully capture von Trier’s world yet create something of their own, something independent of its source material.

On a whim, I reached out to Missy and asked to meet with her. We met on Teams. Due to the time difference, I was sitting in the Norrlandsoperan’s smallest guest apartment at Kungsgatan 27 A—which I had rented for a short time—while she was in her studio apartment in Manhattan, with fascinating psychedelic wallpaper serving as a backdrop. On the wall behind me hung a mass-produced, unframed print of the Brooklyn Bridge.

That meeting was followed by another one, this time with publisher Peggy Monastra and Missy’s partner Royce in attendance. I don’t remember if the Brooklyn Bridge was visible in the background then either, but it’s not out of the question. For some unfathomable reason, both Missy and Royce were really excited about the idea. There was just one catch. The 2024–25 season was out of the question due to their existing commitments. I won’t bore you with the details of how we stayed in touch, but we did, and we agreed to set aside the anniversary year and look further into the future for subsequent seasons.

At Ingmar Bergman’s estate, Hammars, on Fårö in the summer of 2021, Royce asked me what kind of opera I was most interested in. It was a difficult question, but I know I blurted out that I was looking for something contemporary—something about us here and now—a story driven by a complex dilemma and an idea that isn’t an adaptation of another work.

In March 2022, I received an email from Royce in which he presented their initial concept for *The Galloping Cure*. The concept was based on a new synopsis by Karen Russell and addressed the spiraling opioid crisis in the U.S., as interpreted through the lens of Franz Kafka’s short story“A Doctor in the Country.” The idea perfectly captured what I had been trying to articulate as what I wanted most from a newly written opera.

But I also realized two things: this couldn’t be a story that concerned only the Norrlandsoperan and the Umeå audience—the idea was too good not to reach a wider audience—and that this would require funding that the Norrlandsoperan couldn’t provide on its own. From our respective corners, publisher Peggy and I tried to spark interest among other opera houses. Even though there was interest, nothing is ever certain in the opera world until the fat lady sings. Funding remains a headache. But God answers prayers.

In October 2022, out of the blue, I was contacted by Olle Jansson, who had been the dean of the Theater Academy during my time as a student there. He told me that he served as an expert on an evaluation panel for the Riksbank’s Jubilee Fund and, in that capacity, was reaching out to various cultural organizations in Sweden to gauge their interest in participating in a call for proposals from a new grant program run by the fund, RJ Art and Culture. The funding was intended to support cultural projects inspired by research funded by the Riksbank’s Jubilee Fund. “Quite substantial sums may be available.” “Well, the Norrland Opera is definitely interested,” was my understated reply. A new process began, and through RJ I was put in touch with researchers Susanne Lundin and Mats G. Hansson, who had conducted research directly applicable to Missy’s and Royce’s idea. They were also interested in allowing me to access their research for the purpose of writing the application.

To write such an application, you need expertise in both the academic world and the performing arts; personally, I don’t know the first thing about the academic world. There was only one person I trusted to craft such a text so that it would be clear and credible enough to secure the rather substantial funding that would be required: Kristina Hagström-Ståål, who holds a Ph.D. in performance studies from Berkeley and works as a director herself—a woman of rare intelligence and a sharp writer. I pitched the idea to her at Balders Bröd in downtown Sollentuna, and she agreed. This was in August 2023. Kristina, with a little help from yours truly, put together an application that gave me great hope, but the competition for funding from RJ Konst och Kultur would be fierce, so once the application was submitted, all we could do was keep our fingers crossed.

On December 6, 2023, we received the answer: the application had been approved. We celebrated with cake at work.

In the meantime, Peggy, Missy, and Royce had managed to pitch the idea to producer John Berry—a legend in the opera world who, through his pro bono production company Opera Ventures Productions, has been instrumental in the enormous success of productions like *Breaking the Waves*. Together with John, his team, and his global network, the production was able to achieve the impact that Missy’s and Royce’s idea deserved. And it was probably around this time that the real work of creating the piece and putting together the production began. Perhaps I’ll write more about that another time.

Following its world premiere by our partner, Scottish Opera, at the Edinburgh International Festival, the production has been staged at the opera house on Operaplan. Together with the directing team of Tom Morris and Leah Hausman—themselves titans of the international opera scene—the staff of Norrlandsoperan, including both permanent employees and freelance collaborators, have worked harder and with greater dedication than could ever be expected. It has been an exhausting few weeks since August 17 to get the production up and running. Here, I must highlight project manager Esther von Schönberg’s tireless dedication—always with the production’s best interests in mind—and the entire ensemble, led by conductor Jessica Cottis. My heart is filled with humble gratitude for all the hard work that has been put in, after everything that happened before.

The good news is that we are human,

We are blessed with the ability to feel.

The opposite would be devastating:

An inescapable numbness.

I can’t cure you, but I can listen.

You’re begging for answers I don’t have.

There are no simple solutions.

There is no easy solution.

Theresa’s first aria, with lyrics by Royce Vavrek.

Dan Turdén, Artistic Director of Opera, Norrlandsoperan

Author Karen Russell: “Pain is a deeply personal, untranslatable experience”

Karen Russell was commissioned by Missy Mazzoli and Royce Vavrek to write the original story on which *The Galloping Cure* is based, inspired by Franz Kafka’s short story “A Doctor in the Country.”

She begins her article with Emily Dickinson’s poem number 599, presented here in the original language—as well as a quote from the book *Empire of Pain: The Secret History of the Sackler Dynasty* by Patrick Radden Keefe, freely translated:

There is a pain—so utter—
It swallows substance up—
And covers the Abyss with Trance
So Memory can step
Around—across—upon it—
As one within a Swoon—
Goes safely—where an open eye—
Would drop Him—Bone by Bone—

“One of Roche’s competitors, Wallace Laboratories, was the first to bring to market a mild sedative called Miltown, which became a runaway success…”

The Galloping Cure was born From a conversation between Missy Mazzoli, Royce Vavrek, and me in the winter light of 2022. Missy and Royce had previously adapted one of my short stories into the opera *Proving Up*. This time, we came up with the plot together. I loved hanging out in a Zoom room with Missy and Royce, who are brilliant collaborators and close friends. In our early conversations, we talked about the opioid crisis and the greed within the global opioid industry, about grief and love, about opera’s ability to portray the dreamlike and nightmarish dimensions of addiction, about the magical horses in Franz Kafka’s surrealist masterpiece *A Doctor in the Country* and the “great wound” that afflicts both doctor and patient. A halting and unsteady thread of an idea began to take shape.

In my original scenario, a devil arrives in a dilapidated mining town and offers the residents complete relief from pain. He calls his miracle cure “the galloping cure.” A gleaming carousel appears in the town square. Grinning horses with eyes of sea glass await their riders. “Ride these,” he instructs the townspeople, “and you will be transported. My horses will carry you out of your suffering, out of time, and into a heaven within your own souls.” The townspeople rock faster and faster on their “enchanted steeds” and escape the monotonous tone of pain. The music inside their heads changes as they reach a world that is exactly as it should be: a symphony of light and color, ultraviolet flowers blooming on the bare, icy branches. What’s the catch? At first, there doesn’t seem to be one. But the bill arrives. Over time, “the galloping cure” turns into a curse.

This is the story of a dying town, ravaged by addiction. It is also the story of how a small-town doctor loses her way. Dr. Theresa Hart cares for the townspeople, whose needs seem bottomless. She loves her patients and does everything in her power to ease their suffering. She raises both her teenage daughter, Noy, and her granddaughter, Baby Rosa. Grief haunts their home and the town below. Dr. Hart finds comfort in rocking Baby Rosa to sleep. The lullaby evokes a comforting melody and a sense of wanting to surrender completely to a mother’s warm embrace—the same wonderful feeling of “warm, milky love” that the doctor’s patients experience as they rock on their demonic horses.

But it’s never as euphoric as the first time. Now they sway on the horses with a somber desperation. They can never hear that glorious song at the same frequency; the world no longer softens or glows with the same intensity. Instead, they sit strapped to the horses, their feet merging with the stirrups. Rocking round and round, growing ever thinner and sicker. They must ride, to keep all color from seeping out of the world. To keep their bodies from shaking apart. To escape the whinnying dread of dismounting. There is no way back to the daylight. To get out of these saddles, back to the earth. Everything is covered in snow—the trembling riders and the horses’ frozen smiles…

We came up with the title “The Galloping Cure” together. There’s something about the word “galloping”— —that reckless, heart-pounding pace is just right for this story about people trying to escape their pain but just running around in circles, driven by the fear of withdrawal, trapped on a hellish merry-go-round, with no way out in sight.

Pain is such a deeply personal, untranslatable experience. Its cruel paradox is that we feel our own pain completely, intimately, at its core—and yet we can only guess at what is going on inside another body, even that of a loved one: a brother, a sister, a lover, a child. From our own pain, we imagine someone else’s pain. Imagination is the only thing that can bridge the vast, snow-covered chasm that separates one consciousness from another. In *The Galloping Cure*, Dr. Hart crosses the bridge between her own life and her patients’ lives every day. She crosses the chasm, listens to her patients as they describe their symptoms, and does her best to move from diagnosis to a solution. Caring for others can, of course, be a very lonely task, especially when failure is the only thing one can expect.

As an allegory, I hope *The Galloping Cure* feels open to multiple interpretations. For us, this story isn’t just about the tragedy of opioid addiction, or the “cure” that has led so many to ruin. It is also a metaphorical exploration of the abyss—the bottomless void of existential suffering that Dickinson charts in her poem.

After I had written down my feverish dream scenario, Royce, Missy, and Tom Morris further developed the story. Only Royce could have come up with such a perfect name for our diabolical healer—“Lucky Mack”—or a refrain as terrifying as this: “their faces split open in a smile.” It has been an immense pleasure to bring this dream to life on paper together and watch it transform into a multidimensional opera.

Text: Karen Russell
Translated by Norrlandsoperan

Written for the world premiere at the Edinburgh International Festival and republished with the festival’s permission.

Karen Russell is a Pulitzer Prize finalist, a National Book Award finalist, and a recipient of the MacArthur and Guggenheim Fellowships. She has written three short story collections and two bestselling novels, one of which, *Swamplandia!*, has been translated into Swedish.

Author Karen Russell: “Pain is such a deeply private, untranslatable experience”

Karen Russell was commissioned by Missy Mazzoli and Royce Vavrek to write the original story on which *The Galloping Cure* is based, inspired by Franz Kafka’s short story “A Country Doctor.”

There is a pain—so utter—
It swallows substance up—
And covers the Abyss with Trance
So Memory can step
Around—across—upon it—
As one within a Swoon—
Goes safely—where an open eye—
Would drop Him—Bone by Bone—

Emily Dickinson, 599

‘One of Roche’s competitors, Wallace Laboratories, was first to market with a mild tranquilizer called Miltown, which became a runaway success…’

Patrick Radden Keefe, *Empire of Pain: The Secret History of the Sackler Dynasty*

The Galloping Cure It began as a conversation between Missy Mazzoli, Royce Vavrek, and me in the winter light of 2022. Missy and Royce had adapted one of my earlier short stories into an opera Proving Up. This time, we came up with the scenario together. I loved haunting a Zoom room with Missy and Royce, who are brilliant collaborators and dear friends. In our early exchanges, we talked about the opioid crisis and the greed of the global opioid industry; about grief and love; about opera’s power to convey the dreamlike and nightmarish dimensions of addiction; about the magical steeds in Franz Kafka’s surreal masterpiece “A Country Doctor” and the “great wound” that afflicts doctor and patient alike. A fledgling idea began to take shape.

In my original scenario, a devil arrives in a dilapidated mining town, offering complete freedom from pain. He calls his miracle treatment “the galloping cure.” A shining carousel appears in the town square. Grinning horses with sea-glass eyes await their riders. “Rock on these,” he instructs the townspeople, “and you will be transported. My horses will carry you out of agony, out of time, and into a sky inside you.” The townspeople rock faster and faster on their “enchanted steeds,” escaping the monotonous note of pain. The music inside their minds changes as they reach the world as they have always felt it should be: a symphony of light and colors, ultraviolet flowers opening on the skeletal, icy branches. What’s the catch? At first, it seems there is none. But the bill comes due. As time passes, the galloping cure becomes a curse.

This is the story of a dying town ravaged by addiction. It is also the story of how a rural doctor loses her way. Dr. Theresa Hart cares for the townspeople, whose needs seem bottomless. She loves her patients and does everything in her power to ease their suffering. She is raising both her teenage daughter, Noy, and her granddaughter, Baby Rosa. Grief haunts their home and the town below. Dr. Hart finds solace in rocking Baby Rosa to sleep. The cradle sings a lullaby, evoking the sensation of drifting into a mother’s warm embrace—the same sensation of absolute rightness and “warm, milky love” that the doctor’s patients experience while rocking on their demonic horses.

It is never as euphoric as the first time. Now, they rock back and forth on the horses with grim desperation. They are never able to hear the glorious singing at the same pitch; the world never softens and brightens with the same intensity. Instead, they are lashed to the horses, their feet melting into the stirrups. Round and round, growing gaunter and sicker. They must ride simply to keep all color from leaching out of the world. To keep their bodies from shaking apart. To halt the whinnying dread of dismounting. There is no way to safely return to daylight. To slip free from these saddles and come home to the earth. Snow covers everything—the shivering riders and the frozen smiles of their horses…

We decided on “The Galloping Cure” as the title together. There is something about the headlong, heart-racing momentum of “galloping” as a modifier for “cure” that felt right for this story, in which people attempt to escape their pain only to find themselves running in circles, lashed by the fear of withdrawal, trapped on a hellish, inescapable carousel.

Pain is such a deeply private, untranslatable experience. Its cruel paradox is that we know our own pain utterly, intimately, entirely—and yet we can only guess at what is happening inside another body, even the body of a loved one: a brother, a sister, a lover, a child. From our own pain, we imagine another’s pain; the imagination is the only bridge that spans the great snowy chasm separating one consciousness from another. In The Galloping Cure, Dr. Hart bridges the gap between her life and her patients’ lives every day, crossing the abyss. She listens as her patients describe their symptoms and does her best to move from diagnosis to a solution. Of course, caring for fellow human beings can be very lonely work, especially when failure is inevitable.

As an allegory, I hope that *The Galloping Cure* can be interpreted in many ways: for us, this story is not only about the tragedy of opioid addiction, or the “cure” that has led so many into oblivion. It’s also a metaphorical exploration of “the abyss,” the “bottomless” void of existential suffering that Dickinson depicts in her poem.

After I wrote my fever-dream of a scenario, the story was workshopped by Royce, Missy, and Tom Morris. Only Royce could come up with a name as perfect as “Lucky Mack” for this diabolical “healer,” or a line as terrifying as “their faces split open in a smile.” It has been an immense pleasure to bring a dream to life on paper together and witness its transformation into a multidimensional opera.

Written by Karen Russell

Written in advance of the world premiere at the Edinburgh International Festival, and republished with the festival’s permission.

Karen Russell is a Pulitzer Prize finalist, a National Book Award finalist, and a MacArthur and Guggenheim fellow. She is the author of two bestselling novels, *The Antidote* and *Swamplandia! *, and three short story collections: *Orange World and Other Stories*, *Vampires in the Lemon Grove *, and *St. Lucy’s Home for Girls Raised by Wolves*.