Moving across the water Lepage put darlington (pictured) onstage and made the orchestra pit into a swimming pool

One thing you learn working with a radical experimenter is that there are reasons why certain conventions, especially ones that seem stuffy and antiquated, became conventions in the first place. The sombre black tuxedo of an orchestra conductor, for example, not only gives him a regal look, but contrasts with the white background he usually stands against so his every twitch and intimation is clearly visible to the orchestra. Jonathan Darlington arrived in Toronto to conduct Igor Stravinsky’s The Nightingale and Other Short Fables for the Canadian Opera Company, opening Oct. 17, only to find he would not be standing against a white background because he would be standing at the front of the stage, which is also where the orchestra would be seated. And why would they be there? Duh. Because the orchestra pit would be filled with 67,000 litres of water. This improvised pool is where the singers will be, along with the puppets that will be acting out the stories. Darlington knew of director Robert Lepage by reputation but wasn’t quite ready for the surprises the theatre maverick would throw his way.

“I didn’t know when I got involved what the project was going to be. I just knew it was Stravinsky,” says Darlington, who, having just conducted a recording of Stravinsky’s Le Sacre du Printemps, was interested in exploring some of the composer’s lesser-known works. Based in France, Darlington hadn’t been able to reach Lepage to discuss the project prior to rehearsals. The music director of the Duisburg Philharmonic Orchestra and Vancouver Opera — he’s worked with legends like Pierre Boulez, Riccardo Muti and Olivier Messiaen — hadn’t taken into account Lepage’s passion for upending conventions. Not one to complain — “It’s very exciting: I can’t emphasize that enough” — the maestro has risen to the challenge. The effects of Lepage’s grand artistic (and logistic) gambles have rippled through all of Darlington’s preparations in ways that he couldn’t have imagined.

For starters, the orchestra will have to make adjustments to account for the onstage acoustics. There will be a shell behind them to prevent the intricate score from disappearing up into the stage mechanicals but, of course, it’s never been used before. During much of the performance, Darlington will have his back to the vocalists and will have to follow them by ear alone. The singers, in turn, will take their cues off a monitor which doesn’t readily communicate many of the subtle facial expressions usually at a conductor’s disposal. To compensate, Darlington’s been developing gestures that will do the job. During another part of the performance, the singers are even farther away. Darlington would like to bring them closer but, well, this is Lepage and there are acrobats in the way. “We’ll see how close we can get,” he says.

Darlington isn’t at all shy about being up front and onstage. Conceding that the conductor persona is that of a “strange creature who comes from another planet, is God and then goes away,” he strives to be public and accessible, even to the point of maintaining Facebook and Twitter accounts. Considering Lepage’s mission to unbridle any and all theatrical constraints, Darlington, with his desire to deconstruct his profession’s grandiose image, seems like a good match. He’s certainly unflappable.

“There is a lovely lady doing the Russian coaching on this production,” says Darlington. “She said something one day which made me want to give her a big hug. She was very like this” — he crosses his arms — “and the next day she came to me to tell me she was sorry, but she wasn’t used to a maestro giving hugs. I said, ‘Why not? We’re normal human beings.’ She said, ‘You’d be surprised.’”