Simon Boccanegra, Metropolitan Opera live relay, February 2010

In the Council chamber scene, during the second part of Act I, the Doge pleads for peace with Genoa, while the Senate calls for war. Suddenly fighting is heard outside, but Boccanegra, as Doge, commands the doors be opened and the people allowed in. This confident act shows Boccanegra to be a leader, a man we can trust. What a change this is from some of the weak leaders we have in Europe today. Boccanegra is a strong and noble character, torn down by enemies who resent his use of power, yet willing to support his long lost daughter in her desire to marry one of them.

Placido Domingo played him superbly, singing this baritone role with excellent lyrical expression. It is a remarkable transformation for this great tenor, particularly in such an exhausting role. His nemesis, Jacopo Fiesco was strongly sung by James Morris, and their interactions, in the Prologue at the beginning and again in Act III at the end, were masterpieces of musical staging.

Before the start of the Prologue, Boccanegra has seduced Fiesco’s daughter, Maria, who then gave birth to a daughter of her own, also named Maria. The mother is now dead, and in Act I, twenty-five years later, neither man yet realises that the daughter is now Amelia Grimaldi, beautifully portrayed by Adrianne Pieczonka. It’s a difficult part that opens Act I with an aria alone on stage, immediately followed by a love duet with Gabriele Adorno, powerfully sung by Marcello Giordani, whom she warns about his political intrigues. Then after an important scene when Fiesco tells Adorno that his beloved is an adopted orphan, she meets Boccanegra, finding out that he is her real father. This recognition scene was marvellously done, and I only wish I had seen it on stage rather than the cinema screen, where we have to look at one or the other when they are not close enough for the camera.

I shall not go through the whole opera, except to say it is a good idea to have some clue about the plot before it starts. Fiesco originally refuses to forgive Boccanegra, demanding that he yield to him the baby daughter, but this is impossible as the girl was taken away at birth to be brought up near the sea, where Boccanegra, at that time a pirate, could visit her. He lost contact with her when her nurse died, and in the Prologue is acclaimed Doge of Venice. Only at the end of the opera can he return the young woman, his daughter, now called Amelia, to her grandfather. In the meantime, his chief of staff, Paolo, menacingly portrayed by Nicola Alaimo, has put a slow poison in his drink. Lest the poison not serve its purpose, Paolo also tries persuading Fiesco to stab him to death, and when Fiesco refuses he convinces Adorno to do the deed. In the end Paolo is tortured and executed, and though Boccanegra makes peace with both Adorno and Fiesco, nothing can prevent the poison doing its work. One rather macabre aspect of this production was the late scene between father and daughter when she helps him to drink from the poisoned cup. I could have done without this, but otherwise the production by Giancarlo del Monaco, with glorious sets and costume designs by Michael Scott was simply terrific. Filming by Barbara Willis Sweete showed everything very clearly with excellent close-ups and fine perspectives on the whole scene.

Conducting by James Levine gave a great sense of drama to Verdi’s music, and it will be interesting to compare his excellent direction with that of Antonio Pappano at Covent Garden this summer. For those forthcoming performances we have Domingo again in the title role, with Ferruccio Furlanetto as Fiesco, Marina Poplavskaya as Maria/Amelia, and Joseph Calleja as Adorno.

Lucia di Lammermoor, English National Opera, ENO, London Coliseum, February 2010

This David Alden production for the ENO, originally staged in 2008, has a clarity that allows a striking distinction between Lucia’s beloved Edgardo, and her brother Enrico. He is shown as a very nasty piece of work — a child still playing with his toys, putting his hand up his sister’s skirt, and showing himself to be an immature bully who eventually twists the neck of the mortally self-wounded Edgardo. This is hardly the Walter Scott story on which the opera is based, but the libretto by Salvadore Cammarano cut some of the main characters, namely Lucia’s mother and father, in order to fit the story into a three act opera. The result is usually considered a great success, and it makes Enrico the force behind Lucia’s fatal wedding, against her will, after he has shown her some forged letters demonstrating that Edgardo no longer cares about her. Enrico’s retainer, Normanno who is fully complicit in these forgeries is shown to be a callous rogue when he laughs loudly after hearing the chaplain’s condemnation. Altogether, David Alden has created a particularly malicious take on the story, and it works.

As Lucia, Anna Christy sang beautifully, and looked about sixteen. This was partly helped by her excellent costume, courtesy of Brigitte Reiffenstuel whose costumes gave a strong impression of religious Protestantism, and I liked the bowler hats on some cast members — in particular Normanno — reminding me of the Orangemen in Northern Ireland. Indeed Scott’s original story had this feature, as Lucia’s family were Protestant supporters of William of Orange, while Edgardo’s family were supporters of the Jacobites. But to return to the singing, Barry Banks was a very fine Edgardo, and Brian Mulligan a strong Enrico. Clive Bayley sang very clearly and powerfully as the chaplain, holding the stage with his erect posture, which reminds me that the staging involved people on their knees at many points, making them look small and powerless in this ill-fated drama of love and hatred. This was helped by the set designs of Charles Edwards, which were simple, yet surprisingly effective. With Adam Silverman’s lighting they gave an appropriate air of darkness and decay to the dwelling places of both Edgardo and Enrico.

Of course the singers can only give their best with suitable direction from the orchestra pit, and here we have to thank conductor Antony Walker for excellent work. The orchestra, including a glass harmonica that is used during Lucia’s mad scene, played beautifully. These are performances of Lucia that should not be missed!

Wagner Week at the Deutsche Oper in Berlin, February 2010

On February 9^th I shall be in Berlin for a week of Wagner operas at the Deutsche Oper. Here is the list, with details of the performers.

Lohengrin: production by Götz Friedrich, conducted by Michael Schønwandt, with Ben Heppner as Lohengrin, Ricarda Merbeth as Elsa, Waltraud Meier as Ortrud, and Eike Wilm Schulte as her husband Telramund. I recall that Shulte sang a very strong Kurwenal in the Metropolitan live relay of Tristan in March 2008.

Rienzi: production by film director Philipp Stölzl, conducted by Sebastian Lang-Lessing, with Torsten Kerl as Rienzi, whom I last saw as Tristan at Glyndebourne in summer 2009. Camilla Nylund will be his sister Irene, Kate Aldrich her lover Adriano, and Ante Jerkunica as Adriano’s father.

Der fliegende Holländer: production by Tatjana Gürbaca, conducted by Jacques Lacombe, with Egil Silins as the Dutchman, Hans-Peter König as Daland, Manuela Uhl as his daughter Senta, and Endrik Wottrich as Erik. Ms Uhl had the misfortune to portray the eponymous role in the dreadful production of Salome by the Deutsche Oper last year, but let’s hope she has the advantage of a sensible production for this opera. Mentioning last year in Berlin, I recall Jacques Lacombe conducting an excellent Ariadne auf Naxos for the Deutsche Oper, and last summer a very fine Tosca for the Royal Opera in London.

Tannhäuser: production by Kirsten Harms, conducted by Ulf Schirmer, with Stephen Gould as Tannhäuser, Nadja Michael as Venus/Elisabeth, and Dietrich Henschel as Wolfram. Both Stephen Gould and Nadja Michael were together at the Royal Opera last January in Korngold’s Die Tote Stadt, an opera, like Tannhäuser, where a young man is pulled into a vortex of desire by a woman portraying two roles.

Die Meistersinger: production by Götz Friedrich, conducted by Donald Runnicles, with James Johnson as Hans Sachs, Klaus Florian Vogt as Walther, and Michaela Kaune as Eva. She was the Marschallin in the Deutsche Oper’s Rosenkavalier last year, and I saw both Vogt and Kaune in the Bayreuth Meistersinger this past summer, where he sang brilliantly despite the diabolical production. Beckmesser will be Marcus Brück, with Ulrike Helzel as Magdalena, and Paul Kaufmann as David.

The Woman in Black, Richmond Theatre, January 2010

This hugely successful ghost story has been running at the Fortune Theatre in London’s West End for twenty years, and here we had the touring cast with Peter Bramhill as the young actor and Robert Demeger as Arthur Kipps. After Richmond it goes all over the United Kingdom — the various theatres are listed at the end.

The original story by Susan Hill is about a young lawyer named Arthur Kipps who leaves London for a few days to attend the funeral of an old lady client and examine the paperwork in her isolated house. A woman in black, with a wasted face, appears at the funeral, and reappears in the isolated house. Local legend holds that whenever she is seen a child dies. When Arthur returns to London he marries and has a child of his own, but disaster awaits when the woman in black reappears.

The play, adapted from the novel by Stephen Mallatratt, has Arthur Kipps as an older man employing a young actor to help him tell the story, in order to release him from its terrifying memory. The scenes in the isolated house are theatrically embellished with suitable sound effects, and many of the audience find it gratifyingly scary. The funeral is cut from the play, and the whole thing is a very clever recital of events from the past, starting with the older man reciting Arthur’s history in a quiet and dull monotone. One or two of the audience around me spoke out to complain they couldn’t hear him well, but that is precisely the point. This is why he needs a young actor to help him flesh it all out and exorcise the ghosts of the past, and I thought Peter Bramhill and Robert Demeger both played their parts extremely well.

As to the appearance of ghosts and strange noises, I have made a suggestion in a separate post.

18–23 January, SALFORD QUAYS The Lowry; 25–30 January, NEWCASTLE Theatre Royal; 1 – 6  February, LEICESTER Curve; 8 – 13 February, WOKING New Victoria Theatre; 16–20 February, EDINBURGH King’s Theatre; 22–27 February, SHEFFIELD Lyceum Theatre; 1 – 6   March, CAMBRIDGE Arts Theatre; 8 – 13 March, DARLINGTON Civic Theatre; 18–20 March, BLACKPOOL Grand Theatre; 22–27 March, SWINDON Wyvern Theatre; 29 – 3 April, SWANSEA Grand Theatre; 5 – 10 April, NORTHAMPTON Royal; 12–17 April, HASTINGS White Rock Theatre; 19–24 April, BRIGHTON Theatre Royal; 26 Apr – 1 May, BELFAST Grand Opera House; 4 – 8  May, NOTTINGHAM Theatre Royal; 10–15 May, CHELTENHAM Everyman; 31 May – 5 June, LIVERPOOL Everyman; 7 – 12 June, GLASGOW Theatre Royal; 14–19 June, CARDIFF New Theatre; 21–26 June, NORWICH Theatre Royal; 28 June – 3 July, SOUTHEND Palace Theatre

Ghosts in the Mind

This is written in connection with two ghost stories I have seen on stage recently: The Turn of the Screw and The Woman in Black.

In his book The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind, Julian Jaynes argues that three thousand years ago human beings had bicameral minds, meaning that one half of the brain communicated to the other half, which transmuted what it received into visual and auditory images. He used this to explain auditory and visual hallucinations, and to argue that consciousness, in its introspective sense, only emerged from the breakdown of bicameralism in the modern brain. He argues that in ancient times the voices heard by the participants in Homer’s Iliad, or indeed by Biblical heroes such as Abraham and Moses, were a consequence of bicameralism. Vestiges of this in our modern brains may give a partial explanation for seeing ghosts and hearing strange noises. What sets this off is mysterious, but I know from my own experience as a mathematician that my best ideas have always arisen intuitively rather than rationally. This is how creativity works, and a trained mind is able to put a sudden insight into a rational framework, using for instance mathematical symbols, musical notation or simply words.

In the context of our modern minds, creating a rational output from an intuitive feeling uses a combination of the left and right hemispheres of the brain, which is vital for mathematical and musical creativity. But when our brains function in a bicameral way, an intuitive idea may give rise to something that appears to come from outside us. A suitable environment, such as a mysterious house with a history of being haunted, or feelings of which we might not be conscious, could combine with small perceptions that do not fit an expected pattern to produce a sudden insight that is transmitted from one half of the brain to the other. This may then be interpreted as a visual or auditory image — a ghost, a disembodied voice, or simply an unexpected sound. If the ghost seems to cause a disaster to happen, as in the story of The Woman in Black, it might well be that a presentiment of the disaster causes the hallucination.

Sleeping Beauty, Royal Ballet, January 2010

With the old Oliver Messel designs, this production by Monica Mason and Christopher Newton is simply wonderful, and with a superb cast on this first night of the present short run, we were all set for a terrific evening. In fact the dancing was excellent, so why was it that the applause during the performance was lukewarm? The answer, I’m afraid was the ragged conducting and occasional poor tempi from Valeriy Ovsyanikov. What is his excuse? That he had insufficient time for rehearsals? Maybe, but he conducted the same ballet in October and November, and his failure to start the music up in Act III immediately Aurora and her prince appear on stage just gave a sense of negligence. A one or two second gap may not seem important, but it ruins the impact. This was near the end, of course, but the problems showed themselves already in the Prologue with very slow tempi ruining the first and third fairy variations, and then the Lilac Fairy’s solo too. This music needs to sound exciting, but it failed, and the woodwind was occasionally out of phase with the brass. A world-class company like the Royal Ballet deserves better. Having got that off my chest, let us turn to the dancers.

The fairy variations in the Prologue were very well danced by Yuhui Choe, Hikaru Kobayashi, Helen Crawford, Iohna Loots and Emma Maguire, in that order. All were the same as I saw in October, except for Emma Maguire replacing Laura Morera, who in this performance danced the Bluebird pas-de-deux with Steven McRae. Both of them were excellent, and the Act III variations — Florestan and his sisters — were brilliantly performed by Sergei Polunin, Akane Takada and Yuhui Choe. Laura McCulloch did well as the Lilac Fairy, Elizabeth McGorian was beautifully dramatic as the wicked fairy, Carabosse, and I thought Gary Avis was excellent in the small part of the French prince in Act I, where too often, Princess Aurora has a weak partner for her first small pas-de-deux. She was gloriously danced by Marianela Nuñez, with Thiago Soares as a fine Prince Florimund.

Such a shame that the superb dancing could not be matched by some really good conducting, but like last October’s performance, which was also conducted by Ovsyanikov, there was not a single cheer except during the bows at the end, and for Nuñez after her Rose Adagio. This is not how it should be, and the Royal Ballet needs to use better conductors. Boriz Gruzin did an excellent job with Romeo and Juliet last week, so it can be done, but not apparently by Ovsyanikov. And he had the sauce to take a solo bow after the entire orchestra pit was empty!

Carmen, Metropolitan Opera live relay, January 2010

Prosper Mérimée’s novella, on which this story is based, was partly inspired by his encounter with a condemned prisoner in Spain, about to be executed for murdering a gypsy. At the end of this opera, Roberto Alagna as Don Jose made me think that here is the man who killed the gypsy, which says something about the success of this new production by Richard Eyre. At the end of Act I, Alagna showed himself to be weak in giving in to Elina Garanča’s wonderfully strong Carmen, but at the end of Act IV he finds the inner strength to destroy her, sealing his own fate. Carmen herself is fatalistic, but has the ability to attract or reject men as she sees fit, and Ms. Garanča gave a glorious portrayal of this hedonistic gypsy. It was a strong cast, in which all the performers showed the driving determination of their characters: Barbara Frittoli was an intrepid Michaëla, singing beautifully, and Teddy Tahu Rhodes — replacing Mariusz Kwiecien at three hours notice — a stunningly handsome Escamillo who held the stage with his excellent presence. In his Act II appearance singing the toreador’s song, there was a loss of volume at a couple of points, though this may have been the microphone pick-up or the reproduction.

This Richard Eyre production was excellent — better I thought than the Covent Garden one, which I saw last October with Alagna and Garanča again in the main roles — and I very much liked the set and costume designs by Rob Howell, particularly the plain robes, with attractive slips underneath, for the cigarette girls. The dancing was excellent, Carmen keeping pace with the professional dancers in Act II, and giving a fine performance with her friends Frasquita and Mercedes in Act III. Choreography was by Christopher Wheeldon, who also inserted two pas-de-deux during the musical preludes for Acts I and III, well performed by Martin Harvey and Maria Kowroski. At the end of Act IV, after Don Jose kills his beloved, yet hated, Carmen, the stage spins round to show the bull-ring with Escamillo standing over a dead bull. This alludes to a strength and determination in Don Jose, which is rather different from the weaker character we find in other productions, giving an interesting take on the story.

The conducting by Yannick Nézet-Séguin was very well attuned to the singers, fully bringing out the excitement of the music. Altogether this was a wonderful Carmen, and I only wish I were in the audience rather than watching it on a cinema screen.

Elektra, in concert with Valery Gergiev and the LSO, Barbican, January 2010

This powerful Richard Strauss opera, scored for an orchestra of over 110 instruments, has a huge dynamic range and needs singers who can rise above the orchestra. This is where Angela Denoke as Chrysothemis did wonderfully well, and I very much look forward to her singing Salome at the Royal Opera in July. Felicity Palmer as Klytemnestra showed just the right mix of uncertainty and determination in her portrayal, and the voices of the three main protagonists — Elektra, Chrysothemis, and Klytemnestra — were very well contrasted. Jeanne-Michèle Charbonnet as Elektra showed herself fierce and anguished, but was clearly out-sung by Angela Denoke. For example, towards the end, after Klytemnestra has been murdered and her lover Aegisthus cries out for help, Elektra sings, “Agamemnon hört dich!” (Agamemnon hears you!), but it was weak, and as he is dragged away, Chrysothemis comes in with “Elektra! Schwester! .. .” The contrast could not have been greater — Ms. Charbonnet was no match for the orchestra, but Ms. Denoke rose effortlessly above it. Matthias Goerne sang Orestes, keeping up well with Ms. Charbonnet in their duet, and Ian Storey sang Aegisthus.

But what really made this a terrific evening was the conducting by Gergiev. He gave us wonderfully melodious quiet passages, yet turned on the power when it was needed. The London Symphony Orchestra respond well to his enigmatic hand gestures, and the orchestral playing was beautifully lyrical. The name Elektra means ’shining’ — as in the alloy electrum — and Gergiev with the LSO gave us a shining performance.

Romeo and Juliet, Royal Ballet, January 2010

What a relief this was from the Maryinsky’s old Soviet pantomime Romeo and Juliet last August. Kenneth Macmillan’s version is quite rightly the choice of several ballet companies, and with designs by Nicholas Giorgiadis this is a robust and atmospheric response to Prokofiev’s wonderful music. The cast for this first night of the present run was a strong one headed by Tamara Rojo, whose portrayal of a convincingly distraught Juliet at the end could hardly be bettered. She was very well partnered by Rupert Pennefather, whose elegant and youthful Romeo was equally convincing. Gary Avis was terrific as Tybalt, never overstepping the line into pathological irascibility, as sometimes happens. He was always controlled, while smouldering with mockery at the Montagues, and rage at Romeo.

Romeo’s friends Mercutio and Benvolio were very well danced by José Martín and Sergei Polunin, and in fact Polunin was the best Benvolio I ever remember seeing. His first sword fight in Act I was superbly on the music. David Pickering portrayed an anxiously callow Paris, Genesia Rosato was an excellent nurse, and Elizabeth McGorian a suitably dramatic Lady Capulet. A couple of comments on the more minor roles: Brian Maloney was superbly musical as the soloist in the Mandolin Dance, and the three harlots were all well danced by Laura Morera, Samantha Raine and Francesca Filpi.

Boris Gruzin in the orchestra pit did a superb job, giving the dancers ample musical stimulation. Tamara Rojo will be dancing Juliet again on January the 16^th, presumably with Pennefather who replaced Acosta in this performance,  so any available tickets should be snapped up. If you miss that performance there are plenty more, with a whole range of Juliets, some of whom will be very good indeed — Cojocaru, Benjamin and Nuñez particularly spring to mind.

Der Rosenkavalier, Metropolitan Opera live relay, January 2010

Der Rosenkavalier, Metropolitan Opera live relay, January 2010. At the end of Ronald Harwood’s recent play Collaboration, on Richard Strauss’s ill-fated collaboration with Stefan Zweig, we find Strauss holed up in his villa awaiting the arrival of allied troops. When they enter he quickly tells them, “I am the composer of Rosenkavalier“. Indeed it is probably Strauss’s best-loved opera among all the wonderful gems that he produced, and this performance did it full justice.

I saw this opera less than three weeks ago at Covent Garden, so comparisons are inevitable, and I hope you will forgive me for making them. The Metropolitan Opera comes out ahead of Covent Garden, mainly because of Renée Fleming as the Marschallin, and Susan Graham as Octavian. In the Royal Opera’s recent revival we had Soile Isokoski and Sophie Koch in these two roles, with Lucy Crowe as Sophie, and Peter Rose as Ochs. Thomas Allen was Faninal, just as he was here, though he came over better in this production at the Met. I want to write that Renée Fleming is a diva, but that word is debased by its association with attention-seeking sopranos of unpredictable disposition, so I prefer to call Ms. Fleming a goddess. She may be the best Marschallin currently available, giving the role great depth of feeling and emotion. She also looks terrific, and her glorious costume in Act III matched the drama of her entrance to resolve the mess in the tavern. This is a high point of the opera, and the only comparison in the last four Rosenkavalier productions I’ve seen was Anne Schwanewilms a few years ago in Chicago, again in a stunning dress, worn with superb poise. But Renée Fleming is far more than just an elegant lady, and her soliloquy on the passing of time in Act I was done with immense sensitivity and feeling. What a performer! She was well-matched by Susan Graham as Octavian, who transmuted so well from a feisty young man to a pretty young chamber maid that one could understand Ochs’s desire and confusion. His role was very charmingly portrayed by Icelandic baritone Kristinn Sigmundsson, a huge man who showed himself a cultivated boor, but never a clown, and his lyrical singing was a joy to witness. Sophie was performed by the attractive Christine Schäfer, who looked a little too mature for the part of this ingénue, though her voice contrasted well with Fleming and Graham. I must say I preferred Lucy Crowe at Covent Garden, arguably the best Sophie I’ve ever seen, and when it comes to comparisons, Graham Clark at Covent Garden was a superb Valzacchi. The Met hired Thomas Allen, so why not Clark too? Their Valzacchi here, whose name was not in the cinema cast list, was miscast. He was too young to sing of Annina as his niece, and too small to restrain Octavian in Act II, making that little scene appear too contrived.

Overall, however, this was a great cast, and the conducting by Edo de Waart was sensitive to the singers, well-paced and never over the top. In this respect it was quite different from the recent performances at Covent Garden, where Kirill Petrenko used the musical dissonances in the score to create a marked shrillness in some scenes, such as the levée in Act I. This performance was noticeably smoother, but both interpretations are valid. The stage sets by Robert O’Hearn were excellent, and his costumes were very good, but I did prefer the Covent Garden ones for Sophie, and for the Rosenkavalier in Act II. Altogether this production by Nathaniel Merrill is very effective, but as Domingo said in his interval address, and as they say every time in these wonderful Met broadcasts, a cinema screening is no substitute for the real thing on stage, and that is particularly true for this opera with its multitude of stage action. You really have to see it in the opera house, even if you don’t get Renée Fleming — it’s a stage drama, and a glorious one too.