Selected UK opera reviews 2005-2016

Selected UK Opera Reviews

Evan Dickerson

2016 reviews Norma @ Royal Opera House, London

https://www.musicomh.com/classical/reviews-classical/norma-royal-opera-house-london

As their production of Enescu’s Oedipe proved last season, the Catalan creative collective La Fura dels Baus can be relied upon to shake things up a little with any opera they stage. Certainly this new production of Bellini’s Norma, directed by La Fura’s Àlex Ollé, does not disappoint in that regard. In updating the action from the time of the Gauls c. 50BC to a contemporary time, Ollé focused on the themes of occupation, fear, fanaticism, intolerance, the pervasiveness of religion and the place of ritual in everyday life. Initial misgivings that this might be too much of a stretch for Bellini’s bel canto score, however, were quickly allayed.

The constant presence of a thousand crucifixes framing the stage combined with Marco Filibeck’s lighting design gave the production much in the way of atmosphere, so the crosses could be variously interpreted to depict a church setting (Act I), a wooded and thorny grove (Act II, scene 2), or in Act II, simply the representation of the suffocating, intangible presence that blind devotion can bring about when taken to its extreme in daily life, whether in terms of war, religion or a loved one. But, of course, it would not be a production by La Fura dels Baus without visuals that deliberately jar against the music to forcibly make their conception of the opera’s contemporary message clear. Thus, Alfons Flores’ set design for Act II, scene 1 found Norma planning infanticide over plastic sheeting laid down to minimise the blood splatter in her front room. This backdrop to domesticity was completed with bright blue Ikea sofas and minimalistic white sideboards, as the children played with a trainset,

bounced around on a spacehopper and had Watership Down playing silently on DVD. This had a lady behind me muttering “Scheiße” under her breath, but for me Bellini proved more than able to withstand this wilful weakness of indulgence in the production’s conception.

The first production of Norma at Covent Garden for almost 30 years was not overly reverential to the bel canto tradition in musical terms either. Antonio Pappano’s conducting, without a baton throughout as has become his favoured approach, produced variable results when translated into sound. There’s gutsy orchestration to be delighted in within Bellini’s wonderful score and this benefitted from Pappano’s broad-armed approach that tended to emphasise the downbeat.

Similarly, the passionate choral outpourings (“Guerra! Guerra!” in Act II, scene 3) proved gripping, and in this respect the excellent preparation of the Royal Opera House’s Chorus by their Director William Spaulding also deserves credit. There were more tender moments too – the introduction to the cavatina “Casta Diva” (Act I, scene 1) and “Mira, o Norma” (Act II, scene 1), for example – but too often these failed to register through the lack of repeats or a slightly-too-hasty tempo that Pappano encouraged.

Then there’s the not insignificant matter of the bel canto singing tradition to be considered with regard to the solo roles. Brindley Sherratt’s Oroveso, cast more in a military guise than as a religious leader, started weakly with threadbare tone in the upper register particularly, yet he proved of steadier voice in the latter stages of Act II, if still a rather one dimensional character. Joseph Calleja’s role debut as Pollione also found him in uneven voice: his Act I duets with Flavio and Adalgisa were strongly sung in a manner that often recalled Franco Corelli. The rapid beat that often enlivens Calleja’s tone gave his singing richness, yet in character terms Calleja seemed to suggest an indifferent ‘all right, if I must’ to joining Norma atop the funeral pyre at the opera’s conclusion rather than strenuously fighting his corner against Norma’s determined desires.

Jette Parker Young Artists Vlada Borovko and David Junghoon Kim assumed the smaller, but not insignificant roles, of Clotilde and Flavio respectively. As Norma’s confidante Clotilde Vlada Borovko proved her worth as a rising soprano with a solid technique to listen out for, rounding out her character with skilled yet subtle acting ability. By contrast, David Junghoon Kim’s Flavio was generally secure, but some of his exposed high notes were a little hastily supported.

Sonia Ganassi brought experience of previously singing Adalgisa at the Macerata Opera Festival and in Berlin to her assumption of the role, and this showed in the depth of her interpretation. Selfknowledge of her artistic abilities also shone through, with the scaling down of the voice producing some of the most touching moments of intimacy to be had in the evening. In this respect Act II, Scene 2’s duet with Norma (“Oh, remembranza!”) proved particularly memorable.

Inevitably though, it is to the singer that takes on the title role that the twin burdens of expectation and responsibility fall to ensure that the opera proves memorable. For whatever reason Anna Netrebko decided relatively recently that Norma was not a good vocal fit for her voice, and Sonya Yoncheva assumed the challenges that the lengthy and demanding role presents. In so doing, Yoncheva succeeded in presenting Norma as a rounded character – or, as Àlex Ollé rightly states in his programme note, “she is motivated by both her courage and her vulnerability”. Thus, Yoncheva’s Norma is one that does not fetishize the role’s many highlights for their own sake, but integrates them into the whole. ‘Casta Diva’ ’s ritualistic authority was timeless.s without having Callas’ imperiousness, Sutherland’s remote standoffishness or Bartoli’s self-conscious carefulness about it. Instead, there was a warmth of tone and a subtle way with the text that was unexpected for a role debut. She was woman who wore the trousers, too, with her forthright and gloriously assured urgings of peace and, later, vengeful bloodletting – vocally Yoncheva is in superb voice and has the stamina for the role too. But it was Norma the woman that made Yoncheva entirely worth hearing: the heart and soul of the character was caught memorably in the delicately yet precisely placed asides in duets and trios that pepper the role and capture the inner anguish of a woman betrayed by one she has loved. That is all one needs to articulate how relevant and contemporary opera remains as an art form.

Oedipe @ Royal Opera House, London

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From seeing the Brussels premiere of Alex Ollé and Valentina Carrasco’s production of Oedipe for La Fura dels Baus, also given under Leo Hussain’s baton, my abiding memory is of flashes of inspiration amongst an otherwise oppressive take on the work. Revisiting the production now I find it still a mixed affair. The dominant colour palette of muddy terracottas and muted reds perhaps unintentionally drew sculptor Marc Quinn’s 1991 cast head ‘Self’ utilising congealed blood as the main medium to mind in shaping the aesthetic of the massed choruses in particular. Despite Enescu taking care to ensure that the drama should have forward momentum, the direction of Act I (Oedipe’s birth and the prophecy of his downfall) remained slightly ponderous at times. Act II (the killing of Laios and the answering of the Sphinx’ riddle) had more such moments as the transfer between its two scenes was protracted, and the narrative lost focus in favour of barely camouflaged stage management activity. Acts III and IV (respectively, Oedipe learns that he fulfilled the prophecies and blinds himself before taking refuge in old age within a sacred grove with his daughter Antigone), being single scene acts, had a greater degree of cohesion about them.

In contrast to Mandeal in Edinburgh, Berlin and Cagliari or Pinchas Steinberg in Toulouse, who squared up to the dramatic impact of the music with visceral response, conductor Leo Hussain failed to inject enough energy to the score at key moments of the first two acts. In Brussels, his response to Enescu’s writing was rather lacking in power, drive and even brute force when required. His tendency remains one of trying to find a timbre that favours tidiness rather than leaving the score’s rough edges exposed, even if they could be exploited to heighten the dramatic action. As far I can tell Hussain has not touched any other Enescu score and this might have borne fruit in re-visiting Oedipe; I can only hope that the evident first night tentativeness quickly yields to a more gutsy approach for the remainder of the run. That said, the Royal Opera House orchestra responded with dedication to the task of realising Enescu’s intended vision. If anything was specifically lacking it amounted to a

discernibly authentic Romanian timbre in the playing: witness the instances of folk music that flavour Act 1, the bitter-sweet emotional sensitivity that Romanians call dor – it infuses Act 3 particularly – or the specificity with which quarter-tones and various portamenti flavour the score unlike any other in the opera repertoire.

It should be noted that this production’s key creative team lacks input in every respect from a Romanian, whether amongst the singers, conductor, directors and associated staff, who might have advised in the necessity of these aspects to the production’s success. But, one reflects on the fact that the myth of Oedipus is a universal myth, so surely it should not matter entirely that it is realised by a multi-national cast? In theory I agree, but in practice Enescu presents the universal myth inescapably in a Romanian guise.

The cast, inevitably, is centred on the title role. Danish bass-baritone Johan Reuter gave the part his all, both vocally and as an actor. Given that Oedipe ages considerably across Acts II, III and IV, Reuter manfully varied his voice according to the action, even if he was more at ease in the maturity of the final acts. The role might be demanding yet it is also extremely singable and for an artist in full command of his voice as Reuter is, it affords moments of great lyrical beauty. The heart-felt emotions Oedipe faces in trying to outrun his destiny were laid bare with gravitas and purpose, whether in his self-belief in vanquishing the Sphinx, the touching intimacy shared with his daughter Antigone, or the arrogance of a King responsible for his subjects suffering.

The large supporting cast includes Sophie Bevan’s Antigone, touching in purity of tone and feeling for Fleg’s libretto. John Tomlinson’s blind prophet Tiresias dominated his scenes more by force of stage presence rather than vocal delicacy, yet his portrayal was apt and compelling. In her single scene, the Sphinx of Marie-Nicole Lemieux revelled in the licence given for near hysteria, as she wailed and sobbed at Oedipe’s triumph in solving her riddle. Jette Parker Young Artists Samuel Dale Johnson and Lauren Fagan made solid contributions respectively as Thésée and the Theban Woman. Alan Oke is an insightful Shepherd, as is Stefan Kocan in his solid assumption of the Watchman over the Sphinx.

However, Sarah Connolly’s Jocaste and Hubert Francis’s Laïos made a mis-matched pair, with

Connolly rather linguistically indistinct particularly when compared to Reuter in their important exchanges. Similar linguistic issues impaired Claudia Huckle’s Mérope. Tonally, Samuel Youn’s Creon and In Sung Sim’s Phorbas proved pleasing if a touch lacking in distinctive character. A further pity is that Nicolas Courjal and the female chorus in particular wrestled to maintain pitch for much of their parts.

The production was greeted with warm applause, though around me some of the audience remained unconvinced of the opera’s worth. If they thought it Enescu’s masterpiece rather than a universal masterpiece, surely La Fura del Baus has to bear some responsibility in that judgement. However, despite significant flaws in production and performance, there is no denying that the Royal Opera House merits considerable praise for bringing Oedipe to another of the world’s great stages.

2013 reviews Jette Parker Young Artists Summer Performance @ Royal Opera House, London

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Dušica Bijelić, Pablo Bemsch & Michel de Souza (Photo: Clive Barda) The afternoon’s performance fell somewhere between an extended amuse bouche and a compact smorgasbord that featured two helpings of Mozart, two also of Donizetti and single extended samplings of both Tchaikovsky and Puccini to round out the palette of flavours on offer. The occasion provided an opportunity for many of the singers to bring to the stage roles that they have covered throughout main productions during the past season. It also provided the Programme’s stage director, Pedro Ribeiro, with the challenge of utilising the set for the production of La rondine, in situ from its final stage rehearsals, to provide credible settings for the action, and providing one was willing to stretch one’s imagination on a couple of occasions, he achieved his goal.

Paul Wingfield, a Jette Parker Programme participant since last year, conducted a sonorous account of Mozart’s overture to Die Zauberflöte, which conveyed a sense of drama through its well chosen tempi and forward balance of both brass and timpani. During the overture, the curtain rose and a précis introduction of the drama preceding the sung extract from Act I was silently enacted. Michel de Souza proved an entertaining and jocular Papageno, whilst David Butt Philip’s Tamino was a clear and resonant contrast to Dušica Bijelić’s spirited Pamina. Pablo Bemsch lent more to the role of Monostatos with his acting than in vocal terms, whilst the three ladies of Susana Gaspar, Hanna Hipp and Justina Gringyte maintained the mystery of their veiled appearance but projected their lines with ease.

After barely a moment’s pause, The Royal Opera’s Head of Music David Syrus took to the podium to lead a pair of duets from Donizetti operas with assured accompaniment from the Orchestra of the Royal Opera House. In the confrontation between Giovanna Seymour and King Enrico from Act I of Anna Bolena, Justina Gringyte acted the role of the anxious Seymour convincingly, although when pressed in fortissimo passages her tone became a little uneven, showing that perhaps the role is not

yet fully within her grasp. That said, her assumption of the role sat squarely within the bel canto performance tradition that can see vocalise as merely one aspect of the whole character. As the King, Jihoon Kim utilised the reserves of his bass voice well to command a presence. His acting showed a different aspect of character, with a realisation of the predicament Enrico is placed in by the demands of Seymour and Anna Bolena, the other suitor for his affection.

The switch from bel canto high drama to the more tender and humorous aspect of love left almost unspoken was made within an extract from Act II of L’elisir d’amore. Pablo Bemsch’s pliant yet slightly tight tenor tone proved ideally suited to the role of Nemorino, earning deserved applause for the sensitivity of feeling that he brought to ‘Una furtiva lagrima’. Fresh from representing Portugal in the recent BBC Cardiff Singer of the World, Susana Gaspar was a winsome Adina, coquettish and quick of flirtatious inference in her cleanly articulated singing as also with her gestures and sideways glances to Nemorino. Together, Bemsch and Gaspar proved a well-matched vocal pairing.

Polish mezzo-soprano Hanna Hipp took centre-stage in Mozart’s concert aria ‘Chi’o mi scordi di te’, originally written for Nancy Storace, who created Susanna in Le nozze di Figaro. Her rich timbre, supported by careful vocal control, effectively caught the inference of farewell that runs throughout the text. Ribero’s stage direction might have almost made it a film noir tableau, transferring the action to a scene in a 1940s cafe with the singer nostalgically wishing an absent love farewell before a long journey. The continuo piano part was stylishly played by Helen Nicholas, who would do well to continue her experience in working with singers as a complement to her work throughout the Programme with The Royal Ballet.

Act I, scene one of Tchaikovsky’s Eugene Onegin was given in its entirety, conducted with much feeling by Michele Gamba. Although scenically the intended rusticity of a countryside Russian estate was somewhat remote from the marble-clad set, James Simpson’s lighting design lent the scene an appropriately airy atmosphere. Justina Gringyte brought a light-touch sense of motherliness to the role of Madame Larina, whilst keeping a watchful eye over her daughters Tatyana and Olga, sung respectively by Bosnian-born soprano Dušica Bijelic and Hanna Hipp. With sisterly relations believably established during their folk song duet, Bijelic’s initial reticence of character warmed appreciably with the entrance of Onegin, whose mien of thinly veiled sufferance for Lensky’s liking of the surroundings was effortlessly conveyed in the superior arrogance of Ashley Riches’ portrayal. It said much for the success of this scene that I wished to see the quartet of main characters continue with their roles, with Pablo Bemsch’s Lensky showing much promise. Hopefully, a future full production awaits them.

Part of Act II of Puccini’s La rondine brought the afternoon to a fitting conclusion that saw all the singers together under David Syrus’s expert baton. To an equal degree, style and taste imbued the singing to make one look forward to the full production of Puccini’s little rarity opening in under a week’s time. What is more these young artists seemed not the least daunted by the fact that some of opera’s starriest names would shortly be heard in their roles, such was the palpable dedication to the performance. Susana Gaspar might yet give Angela Gheorghiu a run for her money as Magda in years to come.

Since their inception, the summer performances by the Jette Parker Young Artists have seen some wonderful emerging talents take to the Covent Garden stage in their journey en route to greater things. It is worth recalling some particular successes, with alumni singers Pumeza Matshikiza, Simona Mihai, Eri Nakamura, Marina Poplavskaya, Ekaterina Gubanova, Andrew Kennedy, Jacques Imbrailo, Vuyani Mlinde and conductor Rory Macdonald being amongst those who have impressed me most, now all having established major international careers. There’s little doubt that a few more from this year’s concert can be added to that list as well, and my anticipation is already whetted for when Anush Hovhannisyan and Nadezhda Karyazina join the Programme in a few months time.

2011 reviews The Tsar’s Bride @ Royal Opera House, London

https://www.musicomh.com/classical/reviews-classical/the-tsars-bride-royal-opera-house-london

Paul Curran was faced with a choice in approaching Rimsky-Korsakov’s opera The Tsar’s Bride: to present the work as an historical drama in the time of Ivan the Terrible, or to update it to a modern setting. In choosing the latter, Curran took the concept to its logical conclusion and situated his production in contemporary Russia. Every aspect of the staging and visually impressive sets neatly underlined the sharp divide that exists between the super-rich and the average struggling citizen. In reality though, the glittering faade enjoyed by Society’s elite, held in place by the officers of the oprichniki or secret armed guard, is founded precariously on ill-gotten gains and dodgy backstreet deals with characters of dubious reputation.

Indeed, Rimsky-Korsakov’s approach to opera is somewhat unconventional in The Tsar’s Bride, with a key moment of decision and stress being emphasised through unaccompanied arias, notably Dunyasha’s Act I aria. The lasting effect, though, is to give prominence to the voice. This only served to throw the contrasts portrayed on the stage under an even greater spotlight. For the most part though, Rimsky-Korsakov’s music proves full of wonderful melodies expanded with skill using a rich palette throughout the orchestration. So more is the pity that it The Tsar’s Bride has suffered the level of neglect that has impeded wider public appreciation of Rimsky-Korsakov’s operas in the UK. When performed, the music is its own best advocate, and when allied to the vision of an understanding director, the opera’s immediacy and topicality become undeniable.

Sir Mark Elder provided an admirable sense of cohesion and relative instrumental weight amongst the orchestra and much in the way of forward momentum when he could. All five principal members of the cast offered strongly sung and acted interpretations of their roles. Oprichniki member Grigory Gryaznoy, more than ably taken on by Danish baritone Johan Reuter, was ruthlessly controlling and unfeeling from the start the image of a man brought down by his own position of power over the

lives of those beneath him. His boss, Skuratov, was sung with snide superiority by tenor Alexander Vinogradov.

The thrust of the opera though surrounds Grigory’s love interest Marfa, who is chosen to marry the Tsar. With this simple announcement Grigory realises that his love for Marfa is not over, and rejects his current mistress, Lyubasha. This course of action is all the provocation Lyubasha needs to save Grigory from himself, and set the two women up as rivals. Indeed, as characters, they are polar opposites. Lyubasha, headstrong and determined, was played with total conviction by mezzosoprano Ekaterina Gubanova, making her first return to the Covent Garden stage since 2004 when she was a Jette Parker Young Artist. Vocally, Gubanova has come a long way in the intervening years, and the energy with which she attacked the demanding role met the challenges head on with vocal security.

Marfa, on the other hand, charts a path from girlish happiness, through the excitement of her engagement and, ultimately, madness caused as much by her own unhappiness as the poisoning of others. Singing her role debut was Marina Poplavskaya, who made the varying highs and lows of Marfa’s experience real and immediate. The Act IV mad scene proved her acting and vocal mettle beyond all doubt. Hopefully, her interpretation of the role will deepen still further in subsequent performances and productions. A suitable foil to her girlishness was provided by Lithuanian soprano Jurgita Adamonyte, lighter-toned and impetuous. Some much needed vocal robustness and experience was provided by Georgian bass Paata Burchuladze as Marfa’s father, Vasily. He alone, rejoices in her happiness and steadfastly stands as a watchful guard in her dying moments. Against Burchuladze’s impressive and rounded tone the bright nasality of Dmytro Popov’s Ivan Likov was readily and pleasingly apparent.

Macbeth @ Royal Opera House, London

https://www.musicomh.com/classical/reviews-classical/macbeth-royal-opera-house-london

It can be interesting to re-visit a production that you’ve seen before, let alone one you’ve actually put pen to paper about. Phyllida Lloyd’s production of Macbeth was last seen in 2006 and my review then painted a generally positive impression of how the score and its dramatic impetus were faithfully transferred to the stage, albeit with the addition of deft twists in the staging. It could be that knowing the overall conception, my attention much of the time rested on details: the letter from Macbeth to his Lady being hand-delivered by a witch, also that it is a witch who contrives Fleance’s escape from the scene of Banquo’s murder. The point that Lloyd’s original direction makes and that Harry Fehr maintained in his this revival is that the witches are far from mere sayers who predict Macbeth’s fate, they act to ensure its inevitability. As an aside it should be noted that this keeps the action moving for the most part, and only occasionally, with the last of the apparitions, for example, did the conception feel laboured in its realisation. The broader visual conception and its motif of the gilded cage that simultaneously signifies the Macbeths’ elevation, his internal emotional entrapment and their ultimate self-destruction continues to serve the production well.

Musically and dramatically, the present run scores a couple of palpable hits over its predecessor in the casting of Macbeth and his Lady. Simon Keenlyside and Liudmyla Monastyrska are believable from the first as a couple, yet it is immediately clear that she wears the trousers in their castle. For all that though, Keenlyside’s portrayal of Macbeth thrives on the judicious mix of robust acting and subtlety which he mirrors carefully in his tonally-focussed yet nuanced vocal delivery. In terms of vocal size, his might not be the most big-boned, commanding Macbeth around, yet in common with everything Keenlyside approaches it is intelligently conceived and sung and, therefore, not without ample depth to the character.Liudmyla Monastyrska’s Lady is a portrayal not easily forgotten. Sure, the sheer heft of her voice means that one cannot fail to notice her presence in each of her tour-deforce scenes, but once again the success of her realisation of the part was in the details be they the apposite emphasis of particular words in Macbeth’s letter from the blasted heath, her sneered asides

to Macbeth as he rails at Banquo’s all-too-flesh-and-blood ghost or the paring down of her tone to a fragile thread for much of the sleep-walking scene. Macbeth’s downfall might have been great through a failing in his vaulting ambition, but Lady Macbeth’s fall from grace registered with as great, if not more weight. Lastly, note should be made of the vocal partnership that Keenlyside and Monastyrska made of their roles, singing with awareness of the other to ensure they both carried well in the House.

Every plot needs a contrast of characters, and Macbeth’s antithesis is found in Banquo. Morally upright, as honest as the day is long and a worthy heroic soldier, the character’s die seems cast moments after he enters alongside Macbeth. Raymond Aceto brought gravitas to the role in vocal terms whilst advocating the inherent beauty of Verdi’s rich writing for the bass voice, most obviously in his Act II aria ‘Come dal ciel precipita’, strikingly staged as a prelude to his murder in a castle chapel. Dimitri Pittas proved to be much weaker casting as Macduff than Joseph Calleja in 2006, the latter one of the most focussed of the singers in that cast. Pittas though brought heroic gusto even if his tone seemed at times ill-supported.

The smaller solo contributions made by the Jette Parker Young Artists continue to underline the valuable part they play in Royal Opera productions: Elisabeth Meister’s Lady-in-Waiting and Lukas Jakobski’s Doctor neatly counterpointed Lady Macbeth’s neurotic downward spiral of the sleepwalking scene with restrained sensibility. Steven Ebel’s Malcolm possessed presence enough to make his contribution matter.

Much of the drama in the opera comes from the choruses, where Verdi balances massed female witches against the mixed voices of the oppressed Scots. Renato Balsadonna’s preparation of both sets of forces was evidently more purposeful and rhythmically aware than before, making for a much improved experience. The Royal Opera Orchestra played decently under Antonio Pappano’s direction, though just occasionally he could have firmed up the overall attack, even if instrumental voices were well blended and moulded with a decent sense of Verdian dynamism.

2008 reviews Verdi: Macbeth (1847 version): various soloists, The Chelsea Opera Group orchestra and chorus. Conductor: Brad Cohen. Queen Elizabeth Hall London. 29.3.2008 http://www.musicweb-international.com/SandH/2008/Jan-Jun08/macbeth2903.htm Opera simply does not come much better than this: the Chelsea Opera Group’s concert performance of Verdi’s Macbeth was an unqualified triumph in musical and dramatic terms.

There is some debate as to the relative merits of Verdi’s two versions of Macbeth - the earlier dates from 1847 and the latter from 1865. The intervening period saw a sizable shift in Verdi’s compositional style, from the direct and often rough-edged to one of more rounded tone and refinement. For me the earlier definitely has its appeal as it fits the nature of the drama more naturally. Power hungry scheming and murder are not acts naturally born out against a backdrop of luxury. Verdi was acutely aware of this, and made the point by hounding his librettist for a text of directness, repeatedly pointing to Shakespeare for his justification.

Chelsea Opera Group’s realisation gloried in wilful exposure the oftentimes unvarnished orchestral timbres which are used to conjour with thrilling exactitude the atmospheres that allow the dark undoing of human ambition to reach fruition – from the repeated appearance of the witches, the murders of Duncan and Banquo, the banquet scene and death at the hands of righeousness. Brad Cohen’s conducting showed sensitivity of pacing and colouring.

Perhaps in this “opera senza amore” vocal colouring, or tinto, plays a more crucial role than in any other. It defines the characters in a way no stage action can match, and during a concert performance the emotional basis of the roles is carried by it almost alone. Almost, since this performance allowed the observance of the emotional relationship between Macbeth and his Lady at such close quarters that one heard their words and saw the whites of their eyes too, revealing a depth of characterisation barely possible on a distant opera house stage.

What serves to make the Macbeths interesting to observe is the divergent paths their characters take. Macbeth, as Olafur Sigurdarson portrayed him, needed prompting by his Lady to act upon the prophesies, and only when enlivened still further by their urgings in Act III fully took the dreadful final move towards securing his own doom. His singing, like his physical involvement, grew in terms of stature as the drama progressed, ever full of tone, but moving in an arch from reluctance to overconfidence, and at the end, world-weariness. A flawed personality, but a less interesting one than his Lady possesses.

Nelly Miricioiu sang the first Lady Macbeth of her career, but she drew the character with such precision that it spoke volumes for the completeness of her artistic integrity. Too much, perhaps, has been made of Verdi’s requirement for a singing actress with an ‘ugly, coarse and hollow’ voice.

Therefore it was very much contrary to Verdi’s wishes that Nelly Miricioiu did sing the role with superb vocal awareness and great subtlety for nuances of tone and colour.

Miricioiu’s first entry - through the orchestra reading Macbeth’s letter recounting the witches’ prophecies - made clear her situation and her destiny. Here was the wife of a valiant soldier, whose worldly ambitions had so far failed to satisfy her. Having reached an age when any further ambition

could almost be beyond her, the prospect of the greatest glory of all is resolutely grasped. There was venom in the voice and Miricioiu’s face as she resolved Duncan would not live, still more when Banquo’s fate was sealed. Yet for all this vaulting ambition, private domesticity found a place too with slight gestures, looks and vocal touches. Be it the Lady’s irritation at Macbeth’s initial slowness to act and, later, her embarrassment at his shameful conduct during the banquet scene, rescued only by her quick thinking, enough suggestion was sowed of her increasing mental fragility that the full power of the sleepwalking scene not only highly credible but inevitable and devastating in its impact.

Banquo was stylishly sung by the Italian lyric bass Paolo Pecchioli, whose rich tone lent the part much in the way of dignity and personal integrity. Michael Bracegirdle sang Malcolm with assurance and feeling for the situation. Daniel Grice supplied his multiple roles with confidence, whist Stephanie Corley was a model of vocal restraint as the Lady-in waiting. If only this vocal consistency was continued by the chorus. The men fared well as banquet guests, soldiers and assassins; the ladies less so in the more involved passages for the witches during Act III. That my summary of these contributions is brief does not belittle their importance. It is just that this performance convinced beyond all expectations where it needed to most of all. Long may the Chelsea Opera Group maintain this performance standard for they put many an international company to shame. Tickets for Massenet’s Cendrillon on 1 June 2008 should sell like hot cakes, and with all due reason.

Humperdinck, Hänsel und Gretel: Soloists, Royal Academy Opera and Sinfonia, Sian Edwards (conductor). Royal Academy of Music, London. 17.11.2008 (ED) http://www.musicweb-international.com/SandH/2008/Jul-Dec08/humperdinck1711.htm

Robyn Kirk (Gretel) and Charlotte Stephenson (Hänsel)

Picture © Mark Whitehouse

Humperdinck might have been the stereo-typical one-hit wonder composer, but what a hit Hänsel und Gretel is in purely musical terms! And what a gift for an opera director of imagination as well.

Fortunately, productions are coming thick and fast, as this one comes alongside a Glyndebourne Touring Opera production and precedes the Royal Opera’s production next month. If enthusiasm, enjoyment and excellent musicianship were anything to go by then the Royal Academy Opera have little to fear from their big name professional rivals.

Although a reduced orchestration was used, plenty of colour came through in the playing and Sian Edwards led a finely judged, sensitive yet direct interpretation that certainly highlighted the Wagnerian tendencies at play within Humperdinck’s music, but also allowed enough of the composer’s own voice to be heard.

There was refreshing originality of thought on display in the staging too. The opening Act, situated in a rather chaotic, over-applianced kitchen, gave the impression of a household on the edge, making great sense of the childrens’ mischief and the mother’s fury at their misbehaviour. Such domestic discord contrasted with the forest setting of Act II in which much atmosphere was created through clever lighting summoning with ease an air of growing menace. Act III inevitable brought out much of the fairy-tale aspect of the work inherent in the gingerbread house and its ghastly occupant, but dark humour was far from absent in the witch’s plans to bake the children. Indeed, one wondered just how appropriate the work really is for small children.

The cast had few weak links in it: Robyn Kirk’s Gretel was headstrong and keenly voiced throughout, characterising very much an older sister; Charlotte Stephenson’s Hansel was as interesting for her acting skill as her singing ability, and managed to dig deep into the gangly, teenage male persona with remarkable effectiveness, making hers the most rounded performance of the evening for me.

Stuart Haycock’s tenor Witch made a good attempt at stealing the show however. Insinuating and revolting in the leopard skin print dress, heels, and blond wig, his was a portrayal that worked and was not afraid of pushing boundaries of taste to their absolute limits. Gerard Collett’s Father was an extravert and genial foil to his rather domineering wife, keenly sung by Amy Radford.

Adriana Festeu’s Sandman perhaps failed to come across as strongly as it could have done, but here the costume of an old man hindered more than it helped. Hopefully there will be more opportunities to hear her in concert in the future to make a clearer assessment of her skills. Jessica Dean’s Dew Fairy was suitably clear voiced from the balcony and he children’s chorus contributed much atmosphere to their scenes. All in all, Royal Academy Opera is well worth a visit.

2007 reviews Verdi Il trovatore: Soloists / Orchestra and Chorus of the Royal Opera / Nicola Luisotti (conductor).

Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, London. 30.01.07 (ED) http://www.musicweb-international.com/SandH/2007/Jan-Jun07/trovatore3001.htm Count di Luna: Anthony Michaels-Moore Leonora: Catherine Naglestad Azucena: Stephanie Blythe Manrico: Marcelo Álvarez Ferrando: Raymond Aceto Ines: Kishani Jayasinghe + Ruiz: Haoyin Xue + + Jette Parker Young Artist Conductor: Nicola Luisotti Director: Elijah Moshinsky Set Designs: Dante Ferretti Costume Designs: Anne Tilby Lighting: Mike Gunning Fight Arranger: William Hobbs

It is one of opera’s accepted facts that rarely does great music go hand in hand with a great libretto.

Indeed, great stage drama can more often be created because of the music than the plot or sung text. Il Trovatore as an entity, is one such case in point; the plot is of near senseless revenge, yet some of opera’s greatest set pieces lie within Verdi’s score.

Elijah Moshinsky’s production is intelligent and atmospheric. It is largely traditional in style, and makes no apologies for the fact, but even when the sets veer from the prescribed scene – the convent in Part II looks more akin to a glass and wrought iron railway station – an awareness of the intended ambiance is maintained. One of the textual leitmotifs is of shade and shadow, something the scenery encourages with effortless ease. The tendency to use raked lighting seems all the more right as the evening progresses, no matter how clearly one might wish to see facial expressions.

Directorially, Moshinsky’s approach is often one of ‘less is more’, and the benefits this has in bringing out the inner anguish felt by the quartet of major characters is undeniable.

Manrico, the titular troubadour, is stylishly sung by Argentinean tenor Marcelo Álvarez. With a rich and strong tone throughout, he conveys by turns Manrico the lover, the warrior and the headstrong male who denies his love at the moment of her greatest sacrifice to him. However, the passion in his scenes with Leonora was surpassed in terms of psychology and dramatic value by those he shared with Azucena, his mother.

Stephanie Blythe sang her role debut as Azucena the gypsy with such commanding stage and vocal presence that she galvanised all eyes and ears on her every move and utterance. The rich and varied hues of her low-lying mezzo nonetheless allow her to float piano high passages with apparent ease, thus bringing an element of suspended reality into her portrayal of the part. Fittingly, it is Azucena’s

last words in the opera that seal the torment of the Conte di Luna, and with them she completed a compelling evening of singing.

Catherine Naglestad brought much in terms of dramatic identification to the role of Leonora, her soprano at times sounding a shade vulnerable because of the extent of her dramatic involvement. If there were brief moments of uncertainty or even shortness of breath, it was not totally undeniable that these added something to the reading as a whole. In the main though alongside the more robust voices of Álvarez and Blythe perhaps Naglestad’s efforts sounded more like a brave attempt, which would have been more impressive in a smaller house.

British baritone Anthony Michaels-Moore might not be stereotypical casting for an operatic ‘baddy’, but he sought to bring out the slowly gnawing malevolence the Count di Luna is prey to by projecting the character’s driving forces through his acting. Maybe with a slightly more pronounced tone of vengeance in his voice, the character would have been more fully completed, but such desires are small when hearing a Luna so musically sung and not sardonically sneered through gritted teeth for once.

Several of the smaller roles deserve mention too: Raymond Aceto as Ferrando made an assured House debut, whilst Jette Parker Young Artists Kishani Jayasinghe and Haoyin Xie showed ample awareness of Verdian line and promising futures as they progress in their professions.

The most compelling reason to beat a swift path to Covent Garden and catch this production was not to be found on stage, but in the pit. I have eagerly awaited this Il trovatore since reviewing a recital disc conducted by Nicola Luisotti (review) in 2005, and was not let down in my expectation even slightly. Luisotti, recently named Music Director of the San Francisco Opera from 2009, has been making house debuts worldwide in recent seasons, mainly conducting core Italian repertoire. He certainly made an auspicious debut here. From what one hears both through the Royal Opera grapevine and actually from their performance, the orchestra think very highly of him. Their playing carried more brio and passion about it than I can recall them producing for any conductor in a number of years. How joyous it was to hear real tonal body from the mid-strings integrated with bass and violin parts, whilst the brass and timpani never held back in making their presence felt. Even the chorus, so often temperamentally half-hearted under Renato Balsadonna’s direction, were unusually enlivened. Add to that the pliancy of Luisotti’s conducting; his feeling for line and the natural dynamism of Verdi’s writing it is no wonder that he is quickly establishing a reputation as a musician of great intelligence. Where urgency was called for it was there, but he was equally unafraid to let a true legato prevail also. The Royal Opera must be eagerly anticipating his conducting of Madama Butterfly barely a month from now – I certainly am. Tony Pappano, who was in the audience, hopefully recognised the quality of Luisotti’s performance. The best way to publicly acknowledge it would be to bring Luisotti back as soon as schedules allow, and often thereafter.

2006 reviews Gilbert and Sullivan: The Mikado. Soloists, Orchestra and Chorus of English National Opera, Simon Lee (conductor) at the London Coliseum. 4.2.2006 (ED) http://www.musicweb-international.com/SandH/2006/Jan-Jun06/mikado0402.htm The Mikado of Japan: Richard Angas (bass) Ko-Ko, The Lord High Executioner: Richard Suart (baritone) Nanki-Poo, his son: Keith Jameson (tenor) Katisha: Felicity Palmer (mezzo-soprano) Pooh-Bah, Lord High Everything Else: Ian Caddy (bass-baritone) Yum-Yum: Sarah Tynan (soprano) Peep-Bo: Fiona Canfield (soprano) Pitti-Sing: Anne Marie Gibbons (mezzo-soprano) Conductor: Simon Lee There cannot be many things that link Handel’s Xerxes with Gilbert and Sullivan’s The Mikado one might think, yet with English National Opera as the common factor both works have celebrated their twentieth anniversary outing in current productions on the London Coliseum stage.

If memory serves, I must have first seen this production around 15 years ago, when it was hugely enjoyable, and counted Lesley Garrett (Yum-Yum) and Eric Idle (Nanki-Poo) among the cast. Whilst some things change, others stay the same: Felicity Palmer reprises Katisha, as does Richard Suart as Ko-Ko and Richard Angas as The Mikado.

The Mikado’s plot is a standard A loves B who is loved by C. And there all sensibility in the plot ends as one might expect from the librettist-composer pair, who take the whole cast on a merry dance and in the process enjoy a laugh at all previous romances set to music. True, Jonathan Miller’s production does intentionally caricature the characters and the nature of the work itself – G&S, it might be said, gives Lehar’s spirit a uniquely English twist – but in doing so Miller adroitly brings out all the inherent fun. Throughout the performance it was at once noticeable how the production retained its original spirit yet, where opportunities allowed, some updating entered into proceedings: among the targets on Ko-Ko’s ‘little list’ this time were the Lib Dem leadership contenders and the Chair of the ENO Board.

The production comes across once again with a spring in the step and sparkle in the acting; indeed it would be hard to identify a single moment of tiredness about it. Musically, all of it was given with a conscientious approach towards quality of playing and singing without ever labouring the fact. Simon Lee paced the work with feeling, and the orchestra gave of spirited playing that characterfully underpinned the singers. The chorus too proved stalwart support, even if at times their diction was not ideally clear.

Richard Suart’s performance was assured and carefully characterised to bring out Ko-Ko’s entirely self-serving attitude. As his long suffering side-kick Pooh-Bah, Ian Caddy proved equally able to project the inner silliness of the plot whilst maintaining an outward semblance of seriousness. Their vocal performances, like their acting, came on leaps and bounds as the evening progressed.

Nanki-Poo seems a role that Keith Jameson was born to sing, his clear tenor and at times over-precise pronunciation picking out idiosyncrasies of Gilbert’s knowingly witty libretto, particularly in items

such as“A wandering minstrel I”. Similar comments can be made about Richard Angas’ performance as the Mikado, which too was cleverly played and sensitively sung.

The female roles, though fewer in number, offer great opportunities for accomplished singeractresses but Felicity Palmer’s Katisha may be an ‘acquired taste’ in real life too - at least in some respects. The voice has a distinct tendency towards shrillness of attack, although this does prove useful in forming the character of a forceful old battleaxe – and she does have 'an exquisite right shoulder-blade that many would travel miles to see.'

Sarah Tynan proves her versatility as a singer yet again, absorbing Yum-Yum into her repertoire with ease. Beautifully sung, with moments of real tenderness, her acting is also confident and leaves a lasting impression, even to those (like me) who encountered the production years before. The 'girlish glee' that she shares with Fiona Canfield and Anne Marie Gibbons also proves infectious, and they offer each other expert stage support.

Some musical snobs look down their noses at Gilbert and Sullivan – but for the life of me I can’t see why: the contributions made by each of them lie easy on the ear even today and entertain while being good quality (if of their period.) For those willing to go along with the romp, this production offers many rewards. Go – go and enjoy it, although maybe it's best avoided around Valentine’s Day for any flirting at the Coliseum will surely be dealt with most severely.

Verdi: Macbeth (1865 version). Soloists, orchestra and chorus of the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden / Yakov Kreizberg. 24.2.06 (ED) http://www.musicweb-international.com/SandH/2006/Jan-Jun06/macbeth2502.htm Macbeth: Thomas Hampson (baritone) Banquo: John Relyea (bass-baritone) Lady Macbeth: Violeta Urmana (soprano) Lady-in-waiting: Elizabeth Woollett (soprano) Macduff: Joseph Calleja (tenor) Malcolm: Andrew Stritheran (tenor) * Doctor: Robert Gleadow (baritone) * * Jette Parker Young Artist Director: Phyllida Lloyd Designs: Anthony Ward Lighting: Paule Constable Choreography: Michael Keegan Dolan Fight Director: Terry King

Quite why Macbeth does not command respect with the opera-going public to the degree of Verdi’s other Shakespearian operas is a little beyond me. It has a plot brimming with drama, a libretto that sticks (at Verdi’s insistence) close to the source for the most part, excellent solo arias and scenes, not to mention rousing ensembles for chorus too. True, the work is somewhat weakened in form and structure when performed in the later 1865 version but this is often the case these days. The reworkings show a more mature style at work and also serve to take the impact away from previously strong dramatic moments.

Phyllida Lloyd’s production leaves one in little doubt of the Macbeths’ strength with its stylised castle interior built of heavy stone blocks. But the fragility of the position that they bring upon themselves is clear too: everything the Macbeths do is a joint enterprise – to a greater or lesser extent – for richer or poorer. As the plot progresses, their personal relationship moves from murderous deeds borne in a chillingly bare bedroom, to the banquet where they appear very nouveau riche in gold attire within a raised gilded cage, and at the end in their separate beds each with their own madness to bear.

What I found hard to accept at first was the almost total lack of chemistry on stage between Thomas Hampson and Violeta Urmana, as Macbeth and his Lady. Until it hit me afresh, that is, that theirs is already a dead and loveless marriage at the start of the play/opera. What had first brought them

together was his courage, and in his letter, Lady Macbeth savours the fact that some element of this still exists – however fleeting it may be. Hence the urgency needed of her command to “Be a man” when Macbeth cannot go through with Duncan’s murder. After such a crime, what options do the morally bankrupt pair have but to carry on? “Nuovo delitto…”, it’s not only necessary but easier too.

Vocally things were not particularly easy for either Hampson or Urmana. Hampson’s sotto voce tone was pleasing and his use of words carried meaning, but under pressure he declaimed with force but with little meaningful effect regarding the text. Urmana, whose voice is ever a variable instrument, showed some inconsistency from one line to the next, her pitching often approximate and with note values cut short. Of the three great dramatic moments that the role affords, her reading of the letter came off best and though the subsequent aria attracted acclaim it also attracted one loud boo. Given that her acting was so forthright, it was a pity that the voice – evil and ugly to complement the character as Verdi required – so often left one wanting more. The sleepwalking scene, which can and should bring down the house, barely got a ripple of applause – but then maybe on another night things might so easily be different.

By contrast, John Relyea’s Banquo was a tower of moral and vocal strength, acted with great confidence. Even without saying a word, his gestures spoke volumes about the character, and the eloquence of his singing merely confirmed it. Joseph Calleja’s Macduff was much in the same mould though acted less subtly: his one big aria was confidently given in ringing tones, to the delight of the audience. The smaller roles were also well assumed and acted, with the two Jette Parker Young Artists distinguishing themselves once again on the Covent Garden stage.

Yakov Kreizberg led a generally brisk account of the score, but it brought out the dramatic impetus in the orchestral writing to significant extent. Given that the chorus have such a prominent part to play however, it was perhaps a little disappointing that they seemed a touch uneven, confident in the male voices and less so in the females – which matters a good deal due to the importance of the witches. They writhed and made hurly- burly with the best of them, but vocally something was wanting. This, in a sense, sums up the evening.

Verdi: Attila (in concert): Soloists / Chelsea Opera Group / Andrew Greenwood (conductor). Cadogan Hall, 11.3.2006 (ED) http://www.musicweb-international.com/SandH/2006/Jan-Jun06/attila1103.htm Attila, King of the Huns: Clive Bayley (bass) Uldino, a young Breton, slave of Attila: Paul O’Neill (tenor) Ezio, a Roman General: Jonathan Summers (baritone) Odabella, daughter of the Lord of Aquileia: Nelly Miricioiu (soprano) Foresto, a knight from Aquileia: Wynne Evans (tenor) Leone, an old Roman: Mark Beesley (bass) One can take two views on Verdi’s Attilla. Either you write it off as a botched work, or you don’t. Writing it off is the view largely upheld by accepted music criticism, which puts it down as one of the most crass products to emerge from the composer’s galley years. With a plot concerning warriors and the capacity of individuals to exact revenge, Verdi had strong material to work with, but composition of the work was beset by problems caused by his librettists and a wide variety of objections brought forward by the Venetian censors.

Such things however, did not dissuade Verdi from his determination that the work should not lapse into routine. Traditional criticism will tell you that despite his best efforts to the contrary the work does occasionally succumb to a slightly ‘oom-pah, oom-pah’ rhythm here or a predictable ritardando there. Historically, critics have pointed also to the work’s noisiness as a reason for further kicking when it’s down.

Well, I agree, Verdi is at times quite unrestrained in his orchestration, but that’s no reason to scorn it further. The subject calls for it. What could be more inappropriate than the mighty Hun portrayed in a prissy, over-fastidious manner? And whilst I am taking accepted criticism to task, how about putting routine into context. The work contains predictable elements it is true, but so too do any number of Rossini operas (sorry, Gioacchino, but they do). I just do not understand why such objections have been levelled against Attila.

Alright, I also must admit that the work doesn’t contain many showstopping arias, but it does have its dramatic moments and elements of great nuance in it which fix it more firmly to Verdi's later style than to other earlier operas. There is also subtlety of orchestration and word setting to be found throughout the score along with assured dramatic pacing.

Strangely perhaps, for an opera whose solo roles are dominated by male parts, the evening was billed on the casting of Nelly Miricioiu as Odabella. The role affords its greatest opportunities in the Prologue and Act I, and here the most dramatic impressions were made. Voices, being ever changing things, age in different ways – some well, others less so. It might be argued that Nelly Miricioiu no longer possesses a freshness of voice, but she still brings a keen intelligence to her interpretations.

Act I, scene 1, sees Odabella in a wood on a moonlit night weeping for her dead father, and the slight hollowness in Miricioiu’s voice brought this home, and contrasted to great effect with her earlier courageous and heroic tone.

Clive Bayley, as Attila, projected the drama of the role strongly through confident use of text and intelligent musicality, to find not only aspects of the warrior but also some introspection within the part. As a direct compliment to Bayley’s Hun, the Ezio of Jonathan Summers, was without doubt the most sensitively phrased portrayal of the evening, often showing character through beauty of tone too. Mark Beesley left an almost Wagnerian imprint upon the small role of Leone, an old Roman.

Of the tenor parts, Wynne Evans’ Foresto, being much the larger, left a greater impression. The role offers opportunities for a singer of some standing (who is at ease with Italianate line and heroic projection) to shine forth. Though individual phrases were well shaped, some uncertainty of pitching marred the overall result and made the characterisation perhaps more tenuous than might be wished for.

Underpinning the evening was an orchestra of some presence and discipline, yet supple enough of tone to bring forth plaintive and atmospheric playing when required. The expressive chorus took their roles well too, although the men had the greater burden, and they shouldered the crowd scenes with some gusto. Conductor Andrew Greenwood displayed an acute ear for orchestral sonority throughout, as well as first rate dramatic instincts with his pacing of the score.

Now that I think of it, without such excellent qualities unassumingly in place, how much more routine this performance might have seemed. But thankfully, routine is anathema to the Chelsea Opera Group’s approach, and because of this they were able to show just how unsfairly maligned Attila has been. In helping to readjust critical opinion (in my eyes at least) the Chelsea Opera Group can consider the evening very much a success, and be justly proud of their musical achievements too.

Tchaikovsky, Eugene Onegin: Soloists, orchestra and chorus of the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden / Philippe Jordan, 20.3.06 (ED) http://www.musicweb-international.com/SandH/2006/Jan-Jun06/onegin2003.htm New Production; co-production with Finnish National Opera Madame Larina: Yvonne Howard (soprano) Tatiana: Amanda Roocroft (soprano) Olga: Nino Surguladze (contralto) Filipievna: Susan Gorton (mezzo) Lensky: Rolando Villazón (tenor) Eugene Onegin: Dmitri Hvorostovsky (baritone) M.Triquet: Ryland Davies (tenor) Prince Gremin: Eric Halfvarson (bass) Zaretsky: Robert Gleadow (baritone) (Jette Parker Young Artist) Conductor: Philippe Jordan Director: Steven Pimlott Designs: Antony McDonald Lighting: Peter Mumford Choreography and Movement: Linda Dobell Of the several productions given by The Royal Opera this season it has been my good fortune to see, this new production of Eugene Onegin has been without doubt the most eagerly anticipated. In some cases the anticipation of the opera-going public was rewarded and in other cases it was not. More often than not where things were found wanting a question of emphasis made itself felt.

Steven Pimlott’s conception of the opera took some liberties with its setting, and made occasionally strange uses of space; quite why this was necessary was not readily apparent. The Larin’s country abode was spotless despite wholesome peasant types (think Kasimir Malevich) trudging all over it; the St Petersburg ball seemingly took place in the open air. The Royal Opera Chorus seem to be continuing their dubious contributions to the season, though here they reached a new low point in my experience. Not long ago things were so different.

Despite the urgency of Roocroft’s singing in Act I, which was matched to a large extent by the other singers, conductor Philippe Jordan seemed intent on holding the orchestra on a tight rein. As a result, key moments in ‘Tatiana’s Letter Scene’ and elsewhere throughout the act failed to make the impact they might.

As things progressed the question of emphasis became more pronounced with further confirmation of the feeling that Roocroft was vocally not entirely at ease with the role of Tatiana. Where girlish tone should mature in the last act, no room was left for development by her earlier efforts. Jordan seemed a changed man after the interval and projected a far more passionate, heart-on-sleeve account of the score; however some idiosyncratic tempo choices continued to prevail.

Onegin is a role that Dmitri Hvorostovsky has lived with and successfully recorded. His is a mature assumption. Earlier in the season I called to question his stiffness of tone, but here it seemed appropriate in suggesting Onegin’s aloof and haughty demeanour from the start. He projected the desolation that succumbing to love too late can bring in Act III, with feeling in both acting and voice.

By contrast, Rolando Villazón’s role debut as Lensky confirmed, as if further proof were needed, how assuredly and quickly his star continues to ascend. With characterisation that was at once heartfelt, matched by a near ideal tone that was by turns forthright, loving and desolate, his performance of Lensky’s aria was a highlight of the evening.

The emphasis on the action in favour of Lensky and Olga (as opposed to Onegin and Tatiana) was added to by the presence of Nino Surguladze, who projected youthful ardour and fresh-faced impetuousness with confidence. Her voice, too, possessing richly nuanced contralto hues, showed that she is a singer with intelligence to watch out for.

The third ‘pair’ within the opera’s fabric, Madame Larina and Filipievna, were generally well matched.

Lesser parts in terms of role size were excellently taken: Ryland Davies imbuing M. Triquet with just the right degree of foppish eccentricity, whilst Eric Halfvarson lent an air of earnest seriousness mixed with renewed emotional commitment to Prince Gremin. Robert Gleadow again underlined his growing reputation in the cameo role of Zaretsky.

All in all a mixed evening, and if in the end some measure of the emotion and feeling needed in this great work was arrived at, it’s all the more the pity that it was not assured from the start, or that emphases of action were correctly in place.

Mozart, Il re pastore: The Royal Opera in the Linbury Studio Theatre, 13.4.06 (ED) http://www.musicweb-international.com/SandH/2006/Jan-Jun06/pastore1304.htm Aminta: Katie Van Kooten (soprano)* Elisa: Ana James (soprano)* Alessandro: Peter Bronder (tenor) Agenor: Robert Murray (tenor)* Tamiri: Anna Leese (soprano) English Baroque Soloists Edward Gardner, conductor * Participants in the Jette Parker Young Artists Programme Director, set designs and lighting: John Lloyd Davies Costumes: Susanne Hubrich

Il re pastore can be said to be a work of transition for Mozart in several respects. The music is noticeably more in his own style than in the stage works that preceded it (Lucio Silla, Ascanio in Alba and La finta giardiniera) whilst testing the limits of 18th-century operatic convention. The work itself shows the sowing of seeds that would bear fruit in Idomeneo and Così fan tutte, both of which marry moral questions to musical complexities of extraordinary richness.

When Mozart set Metastasio’s libretto in 1775 for the visit of Archduke Maximillian to Salzburg it had already been set by some 13 composers, though Mozart’s setting shows some textual alterations to increase dramatic possibilities, not least the inclusion of a suitable closing quintet to honour the royal visitor. Due in part to the lack of an opera house in Salzburg Mozart never saw the work staged, but when done sensitively it is possible to bring out the dramatic possibilities even though both characters and plot prove themselves ‘squeaky clean’ in every respect. Aminta, a shepherd, is found

by Allessandro to be the rightful king of Sidon, a country he has just conquered. Aminta’s love for Elisa, a peasant girl, is thwarted by Allessandro’s desire to marry him to Tamiri, who is secretly loved

by Agenor, Allessandro’s aide. That Allessandro accepts true love and nobleness of action as of greater value than kingship is the final outcome, as he unites both pairs according to their wishes.

Being of perfect scale for the Linbury Studio Theatre, this production lacked nothing in the dedication of the cast to present a cogent case for the work. With stage direction that was well conceived one could sense the dilemmas faced by the characters as much through their actions as their singing, adding emotional depth to the evening. Occasionally some aspects of the production seemed contrived to the point of distracting from the action: why in moments of decision was Allessandro standing upon a platform surrounded by arrow carrying soldiers?

Such things however could not detract from the obvious musical merits of this production. Katie Van Kooten consolidated her burgeoning reputation as a rising star soprano with a portrayal of Aminta that was sung and acted with ardour. Her voice being of slightly fuller tone than that of Ana James, who projected honest femininity with ease, lent their duet passages particular credibility. Robert Murray’s Agenor was also well assumed and solidly voiced, and particularly in Act II succeeded in suggesting internal frustrations when words were denied him. If one needed reminding of the value of the Jette Parker Young Artists Programme, these three artists gave it in spades.

The other two sung roles were also taken by singers of note. Anna Leese as Tamiri was vocally polished and forthright in her acting. Peter Bronder’s Allessandro was something of an acquired taste given his occasionally effortful vocal production, however he lacked for little in terms of dynamism.

The English Baroque Soloists provided robust support for proceedings and playing of quality with piquant contributions from winds and brass, which in particular helped to bring out the textural qualities inherent in the scoring of Act II. Edward Gardner, English National Opera’s recently appointed music director designate, directed with unfailing vitality to give a reading that was full of dramatic energy, yet also showed awareness that as a chamber opera the dynamic should relax for moments of inner reflection. Just as the opera shows Mozart’s compositional qualities in the making, this production is worth hearing for the music and the young team of performers who deliver it most affectionately.

Bartók, Duke Bluebeard's Castle and Schoenberg, Erwartung: soloists, orchestra of the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden / Kirill Petrenko. 26.05.06 (ED) http://www.musicweb-international.com/SandH/2006/Jan-Jun06/bluebeard2605.htm Duke Bluebeard's Castle: Sung in Hungarian with English surtitles Duke Bluebeard: Albert Dohmen Judit: Petra Lang Erwartung: Sung in German with English surtitles The Woman: Angela Denoke The Man: Barry Callan (mute role) Director: Willy Decker Designs: John F. Macfarlane Lighting: David Finn

In many ways Bartók’s only opera and Schoenberg’s monodrama fit well together; and their pairing pays dividends, given that in retrospect the web of links between the two works grows ever more complex. Neither composer, or their respective works for that matter, should be thought of as easily approachable in any sense and these stagings pull few punches. To emphasise the fragility of the human states portrayed here, Willy Decker places both works in a setting that recalls a bombed-out Berlin or Dresden. Heightened human faculties such as intellect or morality lie smashed in the ruins of depravity as the set-dominating chandelier lies in the debris. That’s the extent of subtlety here.

Bluebeard leads his new wife Judit over a threshold that is scarcely more than rubble and at that moment their troubles begin. Judit peels away the layers of Bluebeard’s secret world by opening the doors of his castle to let in light, or rather to bring the truth behind the rumours circulating about him into the open. Doing so with such determination seals her own incarceration behind the seventh door. That Bluebeard does little or nothing to prevent the inevitable happening is itself necessary of course, given that it allows him to corner his unmasker in the opera's final moments and to preserve his secret in endless night.

Initial fears that both singers would be spending more time watching their step rather than exploring the dark recesses of Bartók’s sound world soon subsided. Petra Lang’s Judit must be counted amongst the most persuasive roles in her repertoire. Bringing to it all of the required impetuousness, sureness of purpose and sharp intellect that lies just under role’s all too innocent surface (not to mention incisive timing, musicality and a remarkable linguistic aptitude) she proves that for her, Judit is no mere girl in a red dress dragged in from the night.

Beside such a dominating assumption, one that has developed through long experience, Albert Dohmen’s Duke Bluebeard lacked definition. Textual nuances, pitch and timing all showed prominent weaknesses, whilst his acting dithered between the minimal or the extremely involved. The orchestra handled Bartók’s writing knowingly, even though the wind section appeared inexplicably amplified.

Kirill Petrenko displayed a keen ear for sonority and fine judgement of the work’s internal dynamics.

Sonority and dynamic judgement are not as persuasively found in Petrenko’s reading of Erwartung.

Schoenberg’s material is far denser than Bartók’s and is thus much less open to characterisation. This has led some to suggest that all one needs to do is play the piece at the marked tempi and dynamics to ensure everything is in place. In practice, it’s not quite that simple.

Employing largely the same set, though with its debris partially rearranged, Schoenberg’s Woman emerges from Bluebeard’s seventh door in an uncannily familiar red dress. Her distracted state gives voice to thoughts that might almost be found within a reversal of Bluebeard’s central idea. Bluntness, angst, pain and fear of anything and everything pervade the air as the Woman stumbles distracted along the inner paths of her mind. The work’s major challenge for a director is how to represent that invisible void as to clarify and illustrate the intricately set text for audiences. Decker’s response is to have an actor make manifest ‘the Man’ of the Woman’s imagination. By having him remain mute and in black, barely visible against the set, it is indicated that she has no sense of another physical presence. It is a concept that only works partially, since much of the work’s power rests in what is implied as opposed to that which can be illustrated.

Whatever the staging, attention must focus on the Woman and Angela Denoke grasped the fearsomely difficult role with confidence. Her gutsy performance is a near ideal balance of precision and emotion, in so far as Schoenberg offers much room for manoeuvre. Curiously for a work that has sparked much debate over how it deals with the passing of time, Schoenberg’s score sounds increasingly dated and such open advocacy of expressionist ideals through absolute and direct musical language was something that Schornberg eventually regretted.

Perhaps it is appropriate that Erwartung’s stifling musical claustrophobia ends abruptly, but it does not bring a natural conclusion to an evening at the opera. You might want to have the name of a good psychiatrist to hand as you leave: Dr. Freud would not have become the man he was without works like these.

Mozart, Ascanio in Alba : (concert performance). Soloists, Europa Galante / Fabio Biondi, director.

Barbican, London. 06.06.2006 (ED) http://www.musicweb-international.com/SandH/2006/Jan-Jun06/ascanio0606.htm Venus: Patrizia Biccirè (soprano) Ascanio: Carlos Mena (counter-tenor) Silvia: Anna Chierichetti (soprano) Aceste: Markus Schäfer (tenor) Fauno: Sunhae Im (soprano) “I cannot see how you can have any use for a composer or useless people of that sort, but if it nevertheless gives you pleasure I do not wish to stop you.”

Thus responded the ever delicate Empress Maria Theresa to her son Archduke Ferdinand when asked if he could take Mozart into his service. That the exchange of views took place shortly after the premiere of Ascanio in Alba given on the occasion of Ferdinand’s marriage in 1771, is known.

Whether the festa teatrale’s plot, a barely disguised allegory set in legend on the theme of just marriage, or the ‘casting’ of the Empress as Venus contributed to her view is unknown. In any case the remark says more about Maria Theresa than it does about the then fifteen year old Mozart.

The plot, such as it is, is largely controlled by Venus. She descends and requires Ascanio to hide his identity from the nymph Silvia, whom he is to marry, as a test of her virtue and fortitude. Silvia faces Ascanio and recognises him from her dreams as her beloved, yet is puzzled why he ignores her, yet she still loves him. Their marriage is the eventual reward. Along the way a priest, Aceste, and a faun add flattering remarks.

The concert performance that opened the 2006 Mostly Mozart Festival at the Barbican made no apologies for juvenilia. But then, even with regard to juvenilia there is that by Mozart and then there is that by almost anyone else. It is not that the composition per se was particularly inventive – although one hears hints towards future compositional directions in Act II – but that the work shows such complete mastery of musical form and language in one so young. The continuo trio of harpsichord, theorbo and violone brought attention to the stylistic models Mozart worked within whilst allowing for individuality of employment to be displayed. In tutti passages much atmosphere was added through the pointed use of brass, woodwind and timpani, their use being on the whole restrained elsewhere. Vocally, the wilder flights of Mozart’s fancy are shown in his coloratura flourishes for Silvia and Fauno whilst finding a balance in the lovers’ tender exchanges.

With performers less inclined than Europa Galante towards a rhythmically alert and cleanly phrased playing style I could imagine some of the music sounding formulaic; rather akin to an opera by Haydn, for example. Fabio Biondi, who directed enthusiastically from the violin as is his usual practice, encouraged unfussy and bold playing throughout that emphasised the naturalness of Mozart’s writing not to mention its inherent lyricism also.

Patrizia Biccirè, who stood in at late notice for Sandrine Piau, assumed Venus with authority and strong sense of vocal line even if it was not a conventionally commanding performance. However, given the chamber scale of the performance as a whole the integral qualities of her approach were much to be valued as the evening progressed. Carlos Mena’s clearly projected and supple countertenor took the role of Ascanio in its stride. Anna Chierichetti characterised Silvia with delicacy that appropriately brought out the character’s virtue. The Act II confrontation of the lovers was particularly well brought off: her phrasing grew increasing impetuous as she tried to discover his

identity. His anguish at having to withhold his name was suggested by a distinct tightening of the tone.

The smaller though scarcely less interesting or demanding roles were expertly taken. Sunhae Im grasped the da capo florid writing with confidence and phrased attentively whilst firing off the required top E-flat with remarkable ease. That emotion rather than pure technique marked her performance was notable. Markus Schäfer’s Aceste provided a much needed counterpoint. With dry though firm tone he gave the text with expressive involvement, which became most urgent in the arias.

If the work is more a curiosity than a masterpiece it is nonetheless worthy of an occasional performance. Hasse, a famous musician and composer of the other opera written for Archduke Ferdinand’s wedding, must have thought so: “This boy will cause the rest of us to be forgotten.” How right he was.

Puccini, Manon Lescaut. Soloists / Opera Holland Park / John Gibbons (cond). Holland Park, London.

15.06.06 (ED) http://www.musicweb-international.com/SandH/2006/Jan-Jun06/lescaut1506.htm Manon Lescaut proved something of a success for Puccini, who was not in the least deterred from composing it by other composers’ settings of the same story. It shows his creative powers and modes of musical expression still in their formative stages, but there are enough pointers towards his mature style in place to make it a highly enjoyable and popular work. Opera Holland Park for some years now has been gathering a reputation for their innovative staging of verisimo operas in particular and this production can be added to their list of successes.

With the stage and auditorium housed under an off-white tensile fabric awning a feeling of spaciousness was created, indeed the airiness was most welcome on this pleasantly warm evening.Bob Bailey’s use of simple stage flats, consisting solely of plain hangings, helped to bring the action before the audience with a rare intimacy. Against the most minimal of settings the imagination of the audience was brought into play by filling in the gaps according to individual taste. Props served to suggest what the actual objects might look like: tables and chairs, etc., wrapped in white cloth so as not to overly prescribe a specific style. Against this the opulence of the period costumes had all the more impact; importantly so, as they were carefully chosen to follow the fortunes of the characters.

John Gibbons led an account of the work (employing a reduced scoring) that was never lacking in forward momentum, even if occasionally his choice of tempi strayed towards the routine. But I do not think much else could have been done at such moments: Puccini’s sense of pacing and rhythmic inflection had not yet acquired the suppleness that imbues later works. The City of London Sinfonia played with commitment, though given the outdoor setting perhaps they felt the need to sacrifice some refinement for the sake of sheer projection. Particularly bright violins dominated to begin with, although greater depths to the sonorities emerged as the work progressed. Likewise the OHP Chorus, well drilled they undoubtedly were, grew in confidence – even if they looked much too well scrubbed and well bred for your average crowd of tavern revellers.

Where the soloists were concerned several strong performances were to be heard. Sean Raune made an ardent and youthful Des Grieux, if he was occasionally apt to over-sing the part a touch. There was no denying his generosity of tone, which rang forth with a convincingly Italianate ease. The contrast with Lynton Black’s delightful dandy-grown-old Geronte could hardly have been more marked, either through acting or vocal presence. His bearing endowed the character with ample fullness and his voice gave it a thinly veiled lecherousness that made Geronte most repugnant, particularly in earlier scenes. Simon Thorpe’s Lescaut was given with confidence, as indeed were many of the lesser roles.

Todd Wilander’s Dancing Master proved just what was needed in characterisation: condescending and hectoring to the last curl of his powdered wig.

There is no doubt that the evening’s most convincing portrayal came from Amanda Echalaz. Her understanding of Manon’s unfolding personal drama was boldly acted and every bit as engagingly sung. Act I saw Echalaz capture her naïve simplicity; Act II her frustrated haughtiness and relief at Des Grieux’ return. Act III saw Manon’s internal desolation made manifest, whilst Act IV completed the inevitable downward trajectory towards death most powerfully. Beauty in the voice, although her ‘aging’ of it lent much to her characterisation, was mirrored by slight yet discernable touches in her acting: facial expressions registered strongly. For all Echalaz’ individual qualities though many of the most moving moments were those she shared with Raune’s Des Grieux. They allowed the best

qualities in both singers, Gibbons’ conducting and Puccini’s luxurious heart on sleeve orchestration to emerge fully for all to enjoy.

Ravel, L’heure espagnole and L’enfant et les sortilèges. Soloists / RCM Benjamin Britten International Opera School orchestra / Michael Rosewell. Britten Theatre, Royal College of Music, London. 24.06.06. (ED) http://www.musicweb-international.com/SandH/2006/Jan-Jun06/bbios2406.htm Ravel’s two operas provide a rich vein of musical and dramatic material for any company to tackle.

The differing natures of the plots and scale of the works (in terms of number and range of roles) contributes to this in no small measure. Yet it is also interesting that both works can be staged around the central idea of a dream, creating symmetry in performance when they are given as a pair.

Jean Claude Auvray’s productions for the RCM Benjamin Britten International Opera School exploited this possibility most profitably, creating a common framework whilst allowing each work its own individuality.

L’heure espagnole makes demands on the performers that can easily be under-estimated. Each of its five roles is a formidable challenge vocally. There are many moments of wit within the plot and there is a temptation for it to dissolve into farce, but this clearly must not happen. Some measure of seriousness should be maintained: a fine line must be trod. This Auvray’s production succeeded in doing to a large extent. His direction emphasised an apparent normality in the situation of a frustrated wife fending of her three amorous suitors behind her husband’s back. It was given a subtly comic edge by Num Stibbe’s set of jauntily angled clocks and Wojciech Dziedzic’s bold costumes.

As Concepción, the woman at the centre of the entangled affair, soprano Pumeza Matshikiza found a boldness of character that moved from determination to disappointment with ease. Her pliant voice caught most of this, even if her diction tended to be a little too approximate. Torquemada, her husband, was suitably obsessed with his clocks. Shaun Dixon brought comedy and annoyance in equal measure to the role of Gonzalve. His acting proved as effective as his singing in these regards.

Philip Shakesby’s Don Inigo Gomez frustrated both Concepción and Gonzalve with his antics, and the dry side of the character’s humour was exploited. Huw Llywelyn’s Ramiro left one in no doubt as to why Concepción eventually makes it upstairs with him sans clock. Physical looks he undoubtedly has, but so too a voice that proves equally appealing. In the pit, Michael Rosewell led an account of the score that brought out many of the individual flavours within Ravel’s writing yet occasionally missed a little of the score’s panache.

L’enfant et les sortilèges replaces earthy pleasures of the flesh with a childish sense of wonder and mischief, as the child dreams inanimate objects that he has abused come to life take their revenge.

Auvray had obviously worked long and hard with the cast to get them ‘inside’ inanimate objects, suggesting at their essential qualities without being overly prescriptive in the process. Dziedzic’s brilliant succession of costumes complemented Auvray’s view of the work to dazzle the audience.

Few professional companies mount productions that display such respect for the essence of the work whilst being inventive with it.

The production lacked for nothing in Rosewell’s advocacy of the score: it was fluid, direct and possessed of winning musicality. That the cast picked up on this was only too evident as the work’s series of near cameo roles were given with distinction throughout. Praise could be lavished on each singer in some respect for the characterisation that was achieved, but a few stand out. Kim Sheehan as The Fire brought out some menace in the high-lying part and not a little sadness too as her flames died out. Eliana Pretorian, in the double roles of The Princess and The Nightingale, found a distinct voice for each and characterised The Princess as much through poise as voice. Simon Lobelson and Sigríđur Ósk Kristjánsdóttir, as the black and white cats respectively, brought out the playfulness and athleticism within their roles, with some wonderful feline vocalisations thrown into the musical lines.

There is no doubt though that the performance of the opera (and the evening as a whole) was given

by Patricia Helen Orr as The Child. The depth to which she immersed herself in the role was notable as was the sense of fascination with which the action around her. Vocally, her performance was strong and given with much attention to nuances of the emotions of the music. When L’enfant et les sortilèges is performed at this level there can be few more uplifting experiences for the opera-goer.

Bravo, BBIOS!

Jette Parker Young Artists Programme Summer Concert: Royal Opera House, Covent Garden.

23.07.06 (ED) http://www.musicweb-international.com/SandH/2006/Jan-Jun06/jpya2307.htm Those in the know have flocked to the Royal Opera House annually for some time now, when the Main Stage has been given over to the Young Artists. It was particularly pleasing that the house was exceptionally full for this Summer Concert as the current group of Programme participants are possibly the finest to date. For the first time both of the conductors in the Programme shared podium duties and the stage action was masterminded by Programme participant director Harry Fehr. But lest anyone should think of this as the singers’ sole contribution in the House, it bears stating once more that their acting and singing has been of a remarkable standard throughout the year, as I have drawn attention to on numerous occasions in my reviews.

The programme for the Summer Concert this year was given an ingenious ring form in that it began and ended with all singers seated on stage. At first it seemed as if we might be in for unstaged concert performances of the listed items, but with disarming imagination Harry Fehr conjured action and neatly utilised those on stage to link the variety of scenes together seamlessly, leaving only the conductors to pass the baton back and forth. The Orchestra of the Royal Opera House formed the backdrop to the action, for once sharing the stage and no small part of the limelight, to give sterling support to the singers.

Gounod - Faust (Act I excerpt) Faust : Nikola Matišic Méphistophélès : Robert Gleadow Rory Macdonald (conductor) The pliable phrasing and fullness of orchestral tone far exceeding the quality of that achieved during the last full run of Faust at the Royal Opera was produced under Macdonald’s committed direction.

Nikola Matišic, possessing a strong and clear tenor, brought believability to Faust and was all too eager to sign his life away. There was little doubt though that Robert Gleadow’s Méphistophélès pulled the strings. Malevolence was in every creeping gesture and insinuated nuance. Harry Fehr’s directorial masterstroke was to have Méphistophélès bring the other participants to life as if by magic, encouraging Ana James, Liora Grodnikaite and others to throw tempting glances to Faust as his fate was sealed. The rare beauty of Gleadow’s supple bass aided Méphistophélès’ in his task immeasurably.

Donizetti - La Favorite (Act I, sc. iv-vi) Inès : Ana James Léonor : Liora Grodnikaite Fernand : Andrew Sritheran Oliver Gooch (conductor) The first of the evening’s two Donizetti items was conducted with a lively sense of pacing by Oliver Gooch. The singing too was reasonable, though not on the same level as that for the preceding Faust item. Andrew Sritheran all too readily announces that he is ripe for the Heldentenor repertoire, but gainfully tried to scale down his voice to cope with the lighter tone called for by the composer. Liora Grodnikaite’s smoky tone worked well with Sritheran’s passionately projected style of delivery. Ana James varied the tonal palette with her expressive coloratura.

Donizetti - L'elisir d'amore (Act II, sc. vii-viii) Adina : Marina Poplavskaya Nemorino : Robert Murray Rory Macdonald (conductor) One had almost forgotten that Robert Murray had been sitting patiently in a corner of the stage when he launched into ‘Una furtiva lagrima’ with sensitivity of line and some generosity of tone. The interplay of emotions that was established with Marina Poplavskaya’s Adina carried the action forward, aided in equal measure by sureness of acting and voice on both parts. The tremulous nature of human feelings – love, rejection and the fine line in between – was adroitly sketched.

Mozart - Idomeneo (Act II, sc.i-iii) Ilia : Katie Van Kooten Arbace : Nikola Matišic Idomeneo : Andrew Sritheran Rory Macdonald (conductor) ‘Idomeneo’ is not the easiest of vehicles for young singers to tackle because its plot based in the realm of mythology can have certain remoteness about it. This also can make it harder than other Mozart stage works for audiences to get a handle on. The recitative was given real intimacy through the continuo playing of Susanna Stranders that neatly underlined the vocal part. Andrew Sritheran seemed decidedly more at ease vocally and expressed himself with articulate acting too. Nikola Matišic was an intelligent match in tonal terms. Katie Van Kooten showed, not for the first time in my hearing, what an accomplished Mozartian she is: the 24 carat shimmer of her voice simply oozes star quality.

Smetana – Overture, The Bartered Bride Rory Macdonald (conductor) Given at a tempo that whipped along with great enthusiasm, this overture opened the second half.

Ebb and flow of line was found along with much precise articulation within the parts, That Rory Macdonald conducted the overture with some ebullience and flair for the big tune helped immensely in achieving a superbly passionate result.

Mozart - Don Giovanni (Act I, sc.ix-xiv) Zerlina : Ana James Donna Elvira : Marina Poplavskaya Donna Anna : Katie Van Kooten Don Ottavio : Robert Murray Don Giovanni : Robert Gleadow Oliver Gooch (conductor) It might be said that Don Giovanni gave Robert Gleadow not much opportunity to show a vastly different persona from that he portrayed as Méphistophélès. But who could care when Mozart’s Don is such a natural vehicle for his seductive looks - my wife was won over with worrying ease! – and richly beautiful voice. Ana James caved in to the Don’s charms too and throughout ‘La ci darem la mano’ Zerlina’s awakening was evident. Marina Poplavskaya’s Donna Elvira thwarted the Don’s plans with impeccable timing and force of character, though quite why she was plunged into darkness for much of the scene I cannot fathom. At least what we could see of her acting told that she was believably wronged. Katie Van Kooten’s Donna Anna was fine grained, exhibiting passion without

being wholly wild of temperament. Robert Murray rounded off the ensemble with fine legato singing in ‘Dalla sua pace’, finding much in the way of piano shading along the way.

Strauss - Der Rosenkavalier (Act III trio).

Sophie : Ana James Die Marschallin : Katie Van Kooten Octavian : Liora Grodnikaite Faninal : Robert Gleadow Rory Macdonald (conductor) The run up to the final trio from ‘Der Rosenkavalier’ might have taken a little while gather emotional momentum, but when it did the reading found good form. By this stage in proceedings the orchestra had clearly warmed to Rory Macdonald’s incisive beat to produce a sound that had real depth to it.

Katie Van Kooten was the picture of quiet resignation as The Marschallin, worldly wise and accepting of her fate. Ana James imbued Sophie with simplicity of line and gesture. Liora Grodnikaite was all impetuous youth as Octavian. During their extended duet acknowledging the love their characters feel for one another, Van Kooten quietly exited to re-emerge with the other Programme members. The full glory of Rosenkavalier’s heights might not have been scaled, but it showed nonetheless that all the artists were very much on the right lines. The atmospheric lighting turned from sky blue to a golden sunset, and drew the evening to a close. My thanks and congratulations to one and all.

Prokofiev: The Fiery Angel: (Production UK Premiere) Soloists / Bolshoi Opera / Alexander Vedernikov (conductor). Royal Opera House, Covent Garden. 25.07.2006 (ED) http://www.musicweb-international.com/SandH/2006/Jan-Jun06/angel2507.htm

Culturally speaking, things Russian are omnipresent in the UK right now: Kandinsky is at the Tate, Shostakovich two-times it between the Coliseum and the Proms, as does Prokofiev between Glyndebourne and Covent Garden with a pair of important UK Premieres. Too much of a good thing?

Never!

The Bolshoi’s visit coincides with that of Gergiev’s Mariinsky team, but the Muscovites don’t seem flustered by the mega-maestro making London his second home, for they have brought two impressive productions, one old and one new. Their Boris Godunov might almost predate time but it is their defining production from an era long gone. Zambello’s staging of The Fiery Angel could well be their defining production of the 21st century; it’s already something of an instant classic in Russian operatic circles.

Prokofiev’s synthesis of music with his own libretto created of itself the possibility for The Fiery Angel to be the most powerful of his stage creations. Certainly no other contains the ingredients that allow both dominant sides of his personality to hold sway in combination and confrontation with each other. Lyricism tussles with brutish almost self-destructive urges and although Prokofiev could be a precise orchestrator when he wanted to be, that was not ultimately where his natural inclination lay.

It is a point brought home with some force in this production. Francesca Zambello pulls few punches with her direction; like a surgeon dissecting a body she carefully reveals the sinews under the skin of her patient. And what a fascinating patient The Fiery Angel is! It would be all too simple to label it a twisted vision, but it is much more at a far deeper level: a reflection of the human psyche that by being hard to stomach has comment to make on what it means to be ‘civilised’. The opera draws out the forced opposition that civilisation has made between mysticism and absolute science. Renata’s quest to find the Fiery Angel is her search for absolute knowledge, but it can only be satisfied via mystical routes.

George Tsypin’s dark, mysterious and multi-faceted set lent some precision of location to the action, but also allowed some mystery to remain in the mind and eye of the spectator. Silhouetted projections of dancers onto the set facades to evoke Renata’s demonic apparitions suggested something not entirely of this world. The same applied to Mephistopheles eating the young boy in the local tavern. Humour and caricature put the action beyond the normal. Colour too played its distinctive role: Madiel, the Fiery Angel, appears dressed in a luminous yellow suit that states more eloquently than words, his separation from reality.

Character was brought out in most of the smaller roles by the cast members, all of whom turned in committed performances. Evgenia Segenyuk’s Fortune Teller was outstanding; here is a singer with a dark and rich contralto of a quality almost non-existent today. Elena Novak’s Mother Superior was impassioned and Alexander Krutyakov’s Count Heinrich suitably dismissive and arrogant. Of the few that were notably under-resourced vocally for their roles, the most crucial was Vadim Lynkovsky as the Grand Inquisitor. Gergiev’s recording of the work stands to show how much more gripping a finale is made by having an imposing singer in that role.

No such qualms were to be had about Boris Statsenko’s Ruprecht or Tatiana Smirnova’s Renata. Their characters are almost as one in terms of fate, and even if Statsenko captured the growing disillusionment of Ruprecht’s companionship with Renata, Smirnova was more impressive.

Committed emotionally, vocally and in terms of acting she charted Renata’s destructive obsessions in a searing arc from the first scene to the last. This Renata overcame her fear of demons to confront them head-on, and in her madness strangely surpass them in powers that are beyond the human.

But rightly enough it is the totality of Prokofiev’s creation that stays longest in the mind from this performance, and that in no small measure was due to the quality of the Bolshoi orchestra. Under Alexander Vedernikov’s committed and fearless direction the orchestra showed at times its willingness to forego sheer tonal beauty in preference to force of expression. Every instrumental department excelled itself at some point in the range of nuanced articulation they produced to match the score’s often required white-hot intensity. Two illustrations bear mention: the violas carried a

rare hollowness still not often heard in Western orchestras, whilst the lower winds were peculiar in their sweet-edged raspiness.

Programming but two performances seems a touch mean. No doubt the tour’s organiser thought that the classic Boris Godunov would draw a bigger crowd. Hopefully the Bolshoi will visit again before long and this Fiery Angel will come with them. If it does, I urge you to see it.

British Youth Opera: Mozart: Don Giovanni. Soloists / South Bank Sinfonia / Alexander Ingram (conductor). Peacock Theatre, London. 08.09.06 (ED) http://www.musicweb-international.com/SandH/2006/Jul-Dec06/giovanni0809.htm Don Giovanni Viktor Rud Leporello George Matheakakis Donna Anna Alinka Kozári Commendatore Vuyan Mlinde Don Ottavio John-Colin Gyeantey Donna Elvira Pamela Hay Zerlina Eliana Pretorian Masetto George Humphreys Alexander Conductor: Ingram John Lloyd Director: Davies Designer: Bob Bailey

British Youth Opera’s season of “Desire and Destiny” opened with Mozart’s Don Giovanni, given in a most innovative and professional production. Between them John Lloyd Davies and Bob Bailey succeeded in placing the work in a context that aided the convoluted twists of da Ponte’s libretto whilst allowing the audience to bring their imaginations to bear. It was a reminder that simple devices such as scenery flats can be powerful tools in the armoury of a stage designer when used with intelligence.

Simplicity, though, should not indicate a lack of atmosphere. Through adroit use of raked lighting, masked serenaders, refined use of the chorus’ presence and, most notably, dry ice in the penultimate scene, much was achieved to give the production gravitas and visual interest.

Such a backdrop also allowed carte blanche for the cast to explore their characters to good effect.

The Don tends to be given as a sex obsessed libertine or something rather more sinister. Viktor Rud mixed the libertine effortlessly with a slight seediness of demeanour to produce a character whose ability to charm still worked its magic with the ladies, but also could make the flesh crawl. Vocally the role held few problems for him and he used his rich and expressive baritone to telling effect. As his sidekick Leporello, George Matheakakis appeared to draw amusement from his master’s scrapes that in some measure compensated for his much-abused position. Though hardly less resonant of voice than Rud, Mathekakis made Leporello his own man, and their exchange of costumes worked well in Act II when attempting to evade the revenging clutches of Donna Elvira.

Alinka Kozári led the strong female cast as Donna Anna. A role notoriously difficult to cast successfully, Kozári had all the key ingredients: strength of character, vocal agility yet a certain implacability of tone. A singer to listen out for, I feel sure. Her father, the Commendatore, put up perhaps too little of a fight to defend her honour at the opera’s opening, making the Don’s victory ring particularly hollow. Vuyan Mlinde made the Commendatore’s revenge firm and inevitable in their later confrontation at the dinner of the damned. Superb singing in this scene. John-Colin Gyeantey’s Don Ottavio could in some respects have been heard as problematic. Yes, he was taxed by some arias, but in combination with his vacillating portrayal this merely added to the impression of

Ottavio’s indecisiveness. That he spent much of the evening waving a gun in the air without the backbone to ever use it made him seem all the more useless, despite protestations to avenge his beloved Anna.

Pamela Hay’s portrayal of Donna Elvira was effectively acted – appearing every inch as a Marilyn Monroe-type blonde starlet – but vocally she seemed less certain in the higher reaches of the role.

Eliana Pretorian’s Zerlina was given with stylish singing and suitable impetuousness of character;imagination was displayed through bringing out many of Zerlina’s aspects – quick to fall to the Don’s clutches, but equally honest in her love for Masetto. George Humphreys acted the clumsy, naive, but essentially honest Masetto with some degree of effectiveness and his vocal gifts imbued the part with charm and delight.

In the pit, Alexander Ingram led the South Bank Sinfonia with care and insight through the score. If at times the orchestral scale was lacking a touch, this in no way prevented Ingram from drawing the drama in bold lines from the overture’s start. Particular mention should be made of Sergey Rybin’s harpsichord continuo playing. Overall, an enjoyable and involving evening.

British Youth Opera: Tchaikovsky: Eugene Onegin. Soloists / South Bank Sinfonia / Peter Robinson (conductor). Peacock Theatre, London. 13.09.06 (ED) http://www.musicweb-international.com/SandH/2006/Jul-Dec06/onegin1309.htm Tatyana Olga Madame Larina Filipyevna A Singing Worker Vladimir Lensky Eugene Onegin Captain Petrovitch Monsieur Triquet Zaretsky Guillot Prince Gremin

Katrina Broderick Clara Mouriz Catherine Hopper Sigrídur Ósk Kristjánsdóttir Gareth John Shaun Dixon George von Bergen Damian Carter Eliot Alderman Jonathan Sells Philip Spendley Vuyani Mlinde

Conductor: Director: Set Designer:

Peter Robinson William Kerley Tom Rogers

In marked contrast to the BYO’s production of Don Giovanni, their Eugene Onegin set the scene in very realistic locations. Making use of wooden scenery to bring a countryside feel to Act I with wide outdoor spaces, and the provincial interior for Act II’s ball that contrasted with the grandeur of the St Petersburg ball in Act III, a sense of progress was instilled in the drama. In many respects the opera is a chronicle of the lives and loves of its main protagonists, Onegin and Tatiana, but it is also no less so a window into the very different hearts of Olga, Lensky and Prince Gremin.

The first refrain – a phrase that should seemingly have no beginning and no end – sets out the repeating cycle of the action. As Madame Larina’s marriage turned from love to habit, so her daughter Tatyana moves from impetuous love for Onegin to acceptance of a lesser feeling for Gremin. In sticking fast to that feeling she ultimately shapes her fate along with that of Onegin. The seeds of the doom in Tchaikovsky’s lyrical scenes must be present from the start, with characters fully formed.

Catherine Hopper’s Madame Larina and Sigrídur Ósk Kristjánsdóttir’s nurse Filippyevna tried bravely to be women of a certain age. Despite their country roots their characters have experienced the world; albeit a small part of it, which came through with the air of knowledge gained at the price of happiness – that same air with which Tatyana sings at the work’s close.

Lensky articulates the key difference between Onegin and himself – “like prose and poetry”. It is such difference in character that it ultimately leads to Lensky’s fate. His music is at first of rural type, showing the charming though not uneducated aspect to his character. However, depth of feeling enters with his despair at Onegin’s actions during the Larin’s ball and – most tellingly – in his reflections on love and death just prior to the fateful duel. Shaun Dixon articulated the role with commanding if nasal voice and realised with subtlety the sadness of Lensky’s situation. George von Bergen as Onegin presented a suave, haughty appearance. Even on our first encounter with him there was the air of superiority that comes to cloud his judgement with Tatyana, Olga and Lensky at

various points in the action; together, the eventual cause of his fate. Such tone carried through in some small way to his singing, making for convincing characterisation. It served to accentuate Onegin’s despair in the closing scene when all reserve is thrown aside as he finally gave in to the feelings of his heart.

The creation of Tatyana is the single greatest achievement in all of Tchaikovsky’s operas. The role requires a singing actress who can move with ease from the naivety of a girl to the maturity of a woman bearing the emotional scars of her feelings and of her encounters with Onegin. Katrina Broderick is to be praised for her assumption. With impetuous feeling fuelled by reading, she gave her heart willingly, only to have the gift rebuked with a sermon at the first opportunity. The great ‘letter scene’ (Act I, scene ii) was confidently delivered, to capture the forceful emotions that must out in her missive to Onegin. Yet his rebuke should be but a counter-balance: the highs and lows of human emotion. It is in their scenes together that the real heart of the work lies, and largely the production did not disappoint.

Such is the strength of characterisation achievable amongst lesser roles that Tchaikovsky clearly was at pains to make sure they were not overlooked in production. If he thought Olga ‘very insipid’, we see this view taken up by Onegin in thinking her ‘blank-faced’. True, the part may not have a downfall comparable to Tatyana’s but Olga too is left to unhappiness. Clara Mouriz believably charted the course from frivolity to sorrow, though she never made Olga seem insipid. Eliot Alderman’s Monsieur Triquet gave a deftness of touch to the stereotypical French fop. Of greater gravitas is Prince Gremin.

This is a man who we should believe has seen battle, yet in the autumn of his years is genuinely moved by the love he finds for Tatyana. The portrayal delivered by Vuyani Mlinde with sureness of vocal tone made Tatyana’s decision to remain faithful to him just about believable.

In terms of dramatic pacing Eugene Onegin can be a difficult work to judge – it has simultaneously to maintain stillness in the inevitability of its course, yet there are key moments when the action must be propelled forward. Peter Robinson seemed unsure of achieving this mix at times. As a result the South Bank Sinfonia sometimes sounded stretched in their abilities, but the colouring of orchestral lines improved as the evening progressed.

Royal Opera 2006 Season Opening Night - Gounod: Faust. Soloists / Orchestra and Chorus of the Royal Opera / Maurizio Benini (conductor). Royal Opera House, Covent Garden. 15.09.06 (ED) http://www.musicweb-international.com/SandH/2006/Jul-Dec06/faust1509.htm Faust: Piotr Beczala Méphistophélès: Orlin Anastassov Marguerite: Angela Gheorghiu Wagner: Robert Gleadow * Valentin: Russell Braun Marthe Schwerlein: Della Jones Siébel (Cast change due to illness): Liora Grodnikaite * * = Jette Parker Young Artist Conductor: Maurizio Benini Director: David McVicar Set Designs: Charles Edwards Set Designs: Brigitte Reiffenstuel Lighting: Paule Constable Choreography: Michael Keegan Dolan

David McVicar’s production of Gounod’s Faust made two appearances in the 2004 season, the first run of which was particularly well received I recall, with a cast that included Gheorghiu, Roberto Alagna (Faust) and Bryn Terfel (Méphistophélès). The production back then ruffled a few feathers amongst certain members of the opera-going public for setting one scene in a hellish Cabaret and later for having Méphistophélès appear in a black sequinned dress. If the Royal Opera hoped that such high jinks might have launched the new season with enthusiasm and a sense of fun, then circumstances largely conspired against them in achieving the desired result.

John Relyea was originally billed as Méphistophélès, but was forced by illness to withdraw from the run. His place was taken at short notice by the Bulgarian bass-baritone Orlin Anastassov. Imposing physical presence was much to his advantage in the role, but his singing lacked focus, to begin with at least. Piotr Beczala’s rather nasal tenor contrasted well as Faust, and he creditably made the transformations between old age and youth, even if vocally he was happier when having youth on his side. As Ezio Pinza once observed, it is a real challenge for a young singer to bring off age with certainty and true believability.

The opera’s second pair, brother and sister Valentin and Marguerite were on the whole taken with more success. Russell Braun possessed purpose in his voice and acting as Valentin, the valiant soldier, whose willingness to stand with honour against Faust assisted by Méphistophélès ensures his own fate. Angela Gheorghiu’s Marguerite grew both in focus and emotional depth as the evening progressed. Initially her ‘Jewel song’ seemed little more than a self indulgent vehicle for obvious posturing by the great diva, but the sense of nervousness she brought to Act Five to display her madness and then its logical consequence, death, was very moving.

On the whole smaller roles were well taken, with Della Jones bringing long stage experience to bear in drawing the most out of what is essentially Marthe Schwerlein’s one scene. In many ways the most impressive singing of the evening came from Liora Grodnikaite in the trouser role of Siébel. Given that she stood in for an indisposed Christine Rice for a single performance, hopefully this is a role that Grodnikaite will have the opportunity to revisit before too long.

In final summation, this is a production that rather puzzles me. There are long stretches of the work that require concentration and motivation on the part of the audience to get through. Gounod is often heard to be rather self-defeating in that he draws things out rather than investing them with energy to keep the action moving. Although the opera’s crowd scenes are handled with enthusiasm, their sheer noisiness can deaden the ear after a while, and visually the joke-laden contrast between the matter-of-fact street scenes and hell’s cabaret can seem rather trite.

Whatever one thinks of the stage action though, perhaps the main culprit of the evening was to be found in the pit. Maurizio Benini is a conductor with extensive operatic experience, which makes his start-stop approach to the score all the more infuriating. At every possible moment he sought to inject little pauses where they should not appear, thus destroying Gounod’s overall musical shape to a large extent. A pity, because when given without such an approach the score can really benefit.

Hopefully future revivals will realise Gounod’s concept with greater care.

2005 reviews Mozart, Così fan tutte: Soloists, orchestra and chorus of the Benjamin Britten International Opera School, Michael Rosewell, conductor; Ian Judge, director; Alison Nalder, designer; Mark Doubleday, lighting; The Royal College of Music, London, 29 June 2005 (ED)

Fiordiligi: Anna Leese (soprano) Dorabella: Martina Welschenbach (soprano) Ferrando: Thomas Walker (tenor) Guglielmo: Andrew Conley (baritone) Despina: Silvia Moi (soprano) Don Alfonso: George Matheakakis (bass) Of the three Mozart and da Ponte collaborations Così fan tutte is perhaps the one that lends itself best to performance by young artists, as the maelstrom of love and fickle emotions is by its very nature youthful. This sun-soaked production in the Britten Theatre retained a youthful appeal throughout, and being situated non-specifically in time or place it underlined the universality of the subject to all.

But youth in looks and voice is far from all that is needed for a truly successful production. The gift Mozart and da Ponte give to youth is simultaneously the challenge set for it, met in terms of musical stylization and interaction. More than any other opera, Così fan tutte is chamber music for voices, given the move away from solo arias towards duets, trios, quartets, quintets and sextets that Mozart so delights in throughout the score, though each character also has solo moments in which to shine.

To find an ensemble in the true sense that can complement each other as well as rise to the solo moments is far from easy. But the rewards for the listener can be manifold, corresponding to a firm musical basis for developing artists.

I have been very careful not to label this a student production, for the reason that I do not consider it to have been one in any sense. The production rightly placed the emphasis on the plot and was superbly directed with many touches of humour suggested by Mozart or da Ponte being brought out.

More, though, it underlined the internal confusion of love with infatuation, through movement, concerted pacing alternating with idleness.

Musically too this was reinforced by vibrato-less playing from the orchestra. At times perhaps the sound lacked presence – either through fast tempi or being lost in acoustic that favours neither extreme of the register; violins, occasionally, were overly thin and the basses all but disappeared.

After a slightly uncertain start, Act I moved dynamically to great effect. Alas the momentum was lost in Act II with Michael Rosewell’s unusually ponderous tempo for the aria ‘Per pietà’, though things recovered later on.

As Ferrando and Guglielmo, Thomas Walker and Andrew Conley embodied headstrong rashfulness turning to doubt about the consequences of their actions in seeking to seduce each other’s girl. Vocally, Thomas Walker’s tenor was stronger, though pushed at the top, but both played off against one another capturing what is unwritten in da Ponte’s masterful libretto.

If anything this was refined still further by Martina Welschenbach and Anna Leese, with exemplary acting and vocal skill, achieving an intimate mix of tone that was also sufficiently different when required for characterization. Anna Leese, a delightful actress, brought Fiordiligi vibrantly to life with

first stubbornness and then impassioned submission. Martina Welschenbach’s Dorabella proved rightly less impetuous to illustrate another facet of characterization.

Don Alfonso and Despina prove the foil to the others and themselves in their cunning through richly drawn roles. Silvia Moi acted her part fully, exploiting the possibilities for vocalization and insinuation nicely throughout. For his part, George Matheakakis was more understated, providing comment on the whole as it unraveled in rich tones that marked down suitably in ensemble passages.

CosĂŹ fan tutte is a jewel of an opera, and this shone though due to the contributions of all concerned, confirming in the process some names to watch out for. Anna Leese for me headed this list. Quite appropriately, the production did not seek to neatly tie up the loose end of the drama, and left one realizing that even in comic vein Mozart achieved a greater understanding of human emotions than is commonly acknowledged.