Royal Ballet Triple: Apollo/ 24 Preludes/ Aeternum, Covent Garden, February 2013

Two completely new ballets, plus one staple from the Balanchine repertoire, made a very well judged triple bill. Alexei Ratmansky’s dances to Chopin’s 24 Preludes were sandwiched between the ethereal Apollo, and Christopher Wheeldon’s powerful new creation to Benjamin Britten’s Sinfonia da Requiem. More on that later, but first to Apollo.

Nuñez and Acosta in Apollo, all images ROH/ Johan Persson

Patricia Neary’s staging goes back to Balanchine’s original including the prologue, and Carlos Acosta was an Apollonian character of huge power. The three muses performed with great precision, Marianela Nuñez making a wonderful Terpsichore with her lyre. Calliope with her scroll of paper was portrayed by Olivia Cowley, and Polyhymnia in a mask, holding a finger to her mouth to represent silent mime, was a very musically expressive Itziar Mendizabal.

Sarah Lamb in 24 Preludes

Following the serenity of Apollo, Ratmansky’s 24 Preludes made a complete contrast with its effervescent choreography. Chopin’s Preludes are composed in all 24 different keys (12 major alternating with 12 minor) and in these 24 pieces there were solos, duets, trios, and more, ending with all eight dancers in D minor. Lovely costume designs by Colleen Atwood: girls in flowing dresses, two silvery-blue, two purple, and the four boys in silvery tops and black tights. Neil Austin’s lighting design for the backdrop involved subtle changes throughout, and Chopin’s music sounded intriguingly contrarian in a version orchestrated by French composer Jean Françaix. A superb performance by eight of the Company’s star performers.

Kish and Nuñez/ Aeternum

Finally came Wheeldon’s Aeternum to music that represents the peak of Britten’s early orchestral writing. It was originally commissioned by the Japanese government for the 2,600th anniversary of Emperor Jimmu in 1940, and although they initially accepted Britten’s idea it was later rejected as completely unsuitable. The three movements are: Lacrymosa (a slow marching lament), Dies irae (a sort of dance of death) and Requiem aeternam (the final resolution), and as an expression of pacifism it was a reaction against dark political developments abroad in the world.

Bonelli and Nuñez/ Aeternum

Wheeldon’s powerful choreography was complemented by a hugely impressive three-dimensional backdrop by Jean-Marc Puissant, cleverly lit by Adam Silverman. At the start of Part I and end of Part II a body lies on the stage, but in Part III all is clear with the backdrop lifted, and just before the final curtain two silhouettes walk away from the audience. In the meantime Marianela Nuñez and Nehemiah Kish were wonderful together in Part I, James Hay performed a fine solo in Part II, and Nuñez and Bonelli were beautifully expressive in their Part III pas-de-deux.

This intriguing ballet demands a second view, but all performances are sold out. Here is one of the perils of success. The Royal Ballet has shown itself to be so good at putting on mixed bills, yet there are only five performances. Preparing new works like these is such a huge job, and although standard three-act ballets sell more performances and at higher prices, there really should be more chance for audiences to see this wonderful new material.

Performances continue until March 14 — for details click here.

A Midsummer Night’s Dream, English National Opera, ENO, London Coliseum, May 2011

Three worlds: the fairies, the lovers, and the rustics, all together here in a secondary school. Oberon and Tytania are teachers, Puck one of the older boys, and the other fairies smaller boys; the lovers are sixth formers; and the rustics are janitorial staff.

The tall visitor with Puck, all photos by Alastair Muir

It all starts in silence. A tall young man wanders the school grounds, hunches down and slumps in a sitting position, his back against a wall. A boy appears. The music starts. Only by reading the first sentence of the synopsis can you understand what’s going on: On the eve of his wedding, a man returns to his old school. Long-forgotten memories of his schooldays come back to him in the form of a dream … . Small boys step silently along school corridors. It’s a little unnerving, and the visitor is spooked. But is this a ‘long-forgotten memory’ or something suppressed in a hidden chamber of his mind? An essay in the programme about paedophilia describes, in the first person, a case of the latter.

Benjamin Britten’s music creates an aura of sleepy magic that becomes discomforting in Christopher Alden’s new production. The spookiness is broken slightly by the appearance of a teenage girl in school uniform, hitching her skirt up. This is Hermia, soon united with a teenage Lysander behind the large waste bins, and later, Demetrius comes on with other boys in rugby kit, pursued by Helena.

Helena attacks Hermia

Our mysterious visitor inhabits the stage throughout, sometimes staggering in a dream-like stupor, sometimes asleep, as when the rustics, in the form of the janitorial staff, prepare their play. Willard White as Bottom is quietly sewing costumes, and when they do put on the play in Act III it’s a riot of colour against the grey background of the school, and very funny.

Acts I and II are run together without an interval, giving an intense atmosphere to the first part. In the second part, after the lovers’ problems have been put right and they are welcomed by Theseus and Hippolyta, his bride to be, the six of them occupy one of the audience boxes and enjoy the rustics’ spectacle. But Theseus has been there all the time … we never knew it, but he was the silent dreamer revisiting his old school, and Hippolyta already appeared in one of his dreams. Now all is well, or so we think. As the fairies are left on stage to give their blessing, Theseus takes leave of Hippolyta and is once again spooked. Will he ever escape?

Oberon and Tytania love the same boy

Britten’s music was beautifully conducted by Leo Hussain, the boys’ chorus was excellent, and the individual performances were all strong. Willard White was superb as Bottom, showing excellent stage presence, as did Jamie Manton who was a wonderful Puck. Anna Christy sang a fine Tytania, and William Towers did remarkably well as Oberon, coming up from Glyndebourne at the last minute to take over from Iestyn Davies who acted the part on stage — he was unwell, and so was his understudy. Apparently Allan Clayton rose from his sick-bed to sing Lysander, performing brilliantly, and I particularly liked the voice of Tamara Gura as Helena. Paul Whelan as Theseus was remarkable — as the visitor and dreamer he was a fine silent actor, and as the king of Athens he sang a strong bass.

Tytania indulges in S&M with Bottom

The set design by Charles Edwards emphasised a powerful and claustrophobic atmosphere for the school, well lit by Adam Silverman, and the costumes by Sue Wilmington were entirely in keeping with the production. If you want a traditional take on the story, this is not for you, and the production team certainly received some boos at the end. But if you’re willing to accept a representation of mysterious forces in the otherwise mundane world of human beings, then this is strongly recommended as an intriguing take on Britten’s opera.

Performances continue until June 30 — for more details click here.

Adriana Lecouvreur, Royal Opera, Covent Garden, November 2010

As I took my seat on the first night a young man said to his neighbour that this was better than Puccini. On the other hand I know of someone who walked out of the dress rehearsal at the first interval saying this was not opera. My opinion falls in between such strikingly different reactions.

Gheorghiu and Kaufmann

Covent Garden has not produced Adriana Lecouvreur since its first performances in 1904 and 1906, not long after the Milan premiere of 1902, so I’m delighted they have now put on such a fine production by David McVicar. Sets by Charles Edwards and costumes by Brigitte Reiffenstuel are complemented by Adam Silverman’s lighting, and the effect was excellent. Add to that two principal singers — Angela Gheorghiu and Jonas Kaufmann, both at the top of their game — who sang the same roles in concert at the Deutsche Oper Berlin last month, and we were all set for the best that this opera has to offer. Gheorghiu and Kaufmann were wonderful — she was dramatically terrific, exhibiting a lovely tone, and he sang like a god. They rose to the heights and parsed the quiet passages with superb control. Their duet towards the end of Act II was glorious, and anyone unfamiliar with opera would surely say, “This is opera”.

So much for the answer to one objection — but is it better than Puccini? I don’t think so. Puccini’s work was brilliantly theatrical, but one cannot say the same for this opera: political intrigue, mistaken identity, love triangles, jealousy, and those violets . . . oh, the violets that appear in Acts I and II, and again in deathly form in Act IV. If one of those ‘Konzept’ directors got hold of this, the flowers might be represented by a figment of the unconscious mind, but this is unlikely to happen because Adriana Lecouvreur is not an opera that attracts a multitude of different productions. I think the libretto cannot sustain an abstract production, but fortunately the music is better than the story. It’s pleasingly melodious, and from time to time it sounds as if it may really take off, but never quite does. That’s just the way it is, and no fault of Mark Elder who produced beautiful sounds and admirable tension from the orchestra. The audience were enormously enthusiastic about the singing, which helped create a buzz and must surely have helped inspire the performers.

Along with Gheorghiu and Kaufmann as Adriana and Maurizio, Alessandro Corbelli brought a wonderfully sympathetic dignity to the role of Michonnet the stage manager who loves Adriana, and acts almost as a surrogate father to her. Michaela Schuster sang beautifully in the part of the jealous Princess who sends Adriana the poisoned violets, and Maurizio Muraro sang strongly in the bass role of the Prince, with Bonaventura Bottone delightfully foppish as his servant the Abbé.

Michaela Schuster and Jonas Kaufmann

A wonderful production with superb singing and beautiful sounds from the orchestra. What more could one want? . . . Well, actually  a few cuts might not come amiss in Act III, which I found tedious. They already cut the Prince’s description of his work as an amateur chemist who has discovered a poisonous powder that induces delirium and death when inhaled, though this at least shows how the Princess gets hold of such a strange murder weapon. I would rather see the ballet cut — the music is hardly on the level of the Dance of the Hours, and it was choreographed deliberately as a mockery of bits of classical ballet, such as Ashton’s La Fille mal gardée, with its ribbon dance and cat’s cradle. In the end it was all about the singing, and I’d be glad to see the abandonment of anything that detracts from that.

Further performances are scheduled for November 22, 25, 27 and 30, and December 4, 7, 10, with Angeles Blancas Gulin taking over the role of Adriana on Nov. 25 and Dec. 10, and Olga Borodina taking over as the Princess on Nov. 30 and Dec. 4, 7, 10. For more details click here.

Katya Kabanova, English National Opera, ENO at the London Coliseum, March 2010

photo by Clive Barda

The Russian writer Aleksandr Ostrovsky wrote a play in 1859 called The Storm, set in a small town on the river Volga. It inspired this opera by Janaček, and half a dozen others by Russian composers. Ostrovsky disliked the low business morality and brutality of the merchant class, and the story contains an unpleasant merchant named Dikoj, along with his nephew Boris, a weak man who hopes to inherit, for himself and his sister, money left by his grandmother on condition he obeys his irascible uncle. The Russian operas on this theme are all called The Storm, but Janaček names his after Katya, who unwisely has a very brief affair with Boris. Katya’s husband, Tichon, another weak man, is under the thumb of his mother, a widow and family matriarch called the Kabanicha. She treats Katya with brutal contempt, and when Tichon goes away on business for a few days, the affair starts. When he returns, Katya feels awful and unwisely admits her guilt. This is her undoing, and while she is left with the consequences, Boris leaves to start life anew.

The river Volga is always nearby, a constant reminder of the forces of nature, and the opera starts with the schoolteacher, Kudrjaš taking joy in the natural world. Almost at the end, after the storm, Katya stands by the river and sings, “how peaceful, how lovely” before plunging in to her death. Her awful mother-in-law, the Kabanicha has the last word, maintaining cool propriety, as if the decorum of civilization can defeat the powers of nature.

It’s a three act opera, performed here without an interval in just over 100 minutes. And what a performance! As soon as the overture started I realized this would be musically entrancing, and Mark Wigglesworth as the conductor produced vivid sounds from the orchestra. When I saw this at the Royal Opera in July 2007, Janaček expert Charles Mackerras conducted superbly, but Wigglesworth’s interpretation was no less exciting, hitting the high points with great pathos. Added to that we had a wonderful Katya in Patricia Racette, whom I last saw as Butterfly in the recent production from the Metropolitan Opera in New York. Her singing was powerfully emotional and she gave a heart-rending portrayal of this distraught woman, so desperately in need of affection. It was altogether a strong cast with Susan Bickley as a very dominant Kabanicha, singing her speech melodies with a force to intimidate those around her. Stuart Skelton, whom I last saw at the ENO as Peter Grimes sang a very lyrical Boris, showing admirable weakness in his acting, Alfie Boe was also very lyrical as Kudrjaš, and Anna Grevelius was a delightfully flippant Varvara, adopted daughter of the Kabanicha, who draws Katya into the assignation that destroys her. John Graham-Hall performed well in the thankless role of Tichon, and Clive Bayley was excellent as the disagreeable merchant Dikoj. His stage presence was superb, as indeed it was when I last saw him as Bluebeard, and as the chaplain in Lucia, both at the ENO.

This was a new production by David Alden, and its spare sets and clever lighting by Adam Silverman worked very well for me. I particularly liked the use of shadows on the large wall that divides the stage. The only thing I found a little odd was the poster of the devil in Act III headed by the word proklyat’ in Cyrillic script, meaning curse or damnation — it seemed out of place, and the heading was not visible at the front of the Balcony.

But overall this dark and theatrically powerful opera is a must-see, and you would have to go a long way to find better singing or conducting — they were both virtually unbeatable.

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!

The Turn of the Screw, ENO, English National Opera, October 2009

David McVicar’s atmospheric production with dark lighting designed by Adam Silverman gives an excellent view of this disturbing story. The designs by Tanya McCallin, involving sliding walls and screens, with black costumes for everyone, are very effective, and the performers all conveyed the haunting nature of this opera. With thirteen musicians in the pit, under the direction of Charles Mackerras, the musical rendering could not be better — Mackerras conducted the original English production at the Sadler’s Wells Theatre in 1954, so he knows very well what Benjamin Britten intended.

The singers formed an excellent cast. Rebecca Evans was wonderful as the governess, portraying her sympathy and closeness to the boy, Miles, who was beautifully played by Charlie Manton. Ann Murray was suitably prosaic as Mrs. Grose the housekeeper, who sees no ghosts, and Nazan Fikret was the girl, Flora. Cheryl Barker, whom I recall in the main role of The Makropulos Case three years ago, sang an excellently ghostly Miss Jessel, and Michael Colvin sang lyrically as the insidious Peter Quint, and as the man in the Prologue.

The story is that Miss Jessel and Quint both died in mysterious circumstances some time before the events of the opera take place, yet they still haunt the children. Only when Miles finally rejects Quint is he cured, though he dies immediately after. It’s a disturbing story that one might wish to avoid, but this production shows what a superb opera it is, very well worth a visit.

Peter Grimes, English National Opera, London Coliseum, May 2009

This superb Benjamin Britten opera was given a terrific performance by Edward Gardner, with Stuart Skelton singing a strongly lyrical Grimes, Amanda Roocroft a slightly underpowered Ellen Orford, and Gerald Finley a rather too young looking Captain Balstrode, whom I found somewhat unconvincing. Felicity Palmer was terrific as the busybody Mrs. Sedley, and Michael Colvin was a beautifully voiced Methodist, waving his Bible. But there were too many Bibles being waved in this rather odd production by David Alden, who has gone out of his way to portray the inhabitants of the Borough as being crazier than we normally think of them. He is also a director who likes to put some off-beat sex onto stage, but I think it detracts from the power of this opera. Auntie admittedly runs a pub that doubles as a whore-house, but her ‘nieces’ were made to be almost mentally retarded victims of sexual abuse, dressed in identical school uniforms, playing with their dolls. They even hit them when Grimes hits Ellen and forces his new apprentice into joining him for yet more fishing on Sunday. Auntie herself was played as a weirdly transgendered woman in a long coat, performed as a sideshow by Rebecca de Pont Davies. That was not her fault, because Alden plays this opera as part musical, rather in the style of Kurt Weill, and some of the weirder scenes in Act III had a feel of Berlin decadence from the 1920s. There was even a dancing sailor from the Royal Navy — what was he doing in this fishing village?

The lighting by Adam Silverman was very effective, as were the sets by Paul Steinberg, who also collaborated with Alden on La Calisto at the Royal Opera House earlier this season. Costumes by Brigitte Reiffenstuel dressed most of the chorus in very dark colours, which was effective, but there were some odd extras, like the animal head for Auntie in part of Act III. Again the director was showing the inhabitants of the Borough as weird, while Grimes and Ellen are more normal by comparison, but I think the story needs no outside help. What it does need is to make the high points as effective as possible, and Grimes’s Act I soliloquy, “The Great Bear and the Pleiades . . .” can have a tremendous impact, but here he delivered it from a sitting position in the pub rather than it being a sudden intrusion from without by Grimes. This might be seen as a small quibble, but I’m afraid this production left me cold, never really driving home the tension, except for the death of the apprentice near the end. But the production aside, what really drove Britten’s masterpiece home was Stuart Skelton, Felicity Palmer, the chorus, and the conductor Edward Gardner. They were the stars of the evening for me.