Peter Grimes, in concert, BBC Proms, Royal Albert Hall, August 2012

For those who saw English National Opera’s new production of Peter Grimes in 2009, here was a chance to savour the full glory of Britten’s score. With the ENO orchestra and chorus in the vast expanse of the Albert Hall under brilliant direction by Edward Gardner, this was a musical treat.

As Grimes himself, Stuart Skelton gave a hugely powerful performance, with Amanda Roocroft warmly sympathetic as Ellen Orford, the same pair as in the 2009 production. Once again Rebecca de Pont Davies gave a fine performance of Auntie, and Gillian Ramm and Mairéad Buicke sang beautifully as her ‘nieces’. Felicity Palmer gave a witty portrayal of the spiteful Mrs Sedley, Leigh Melrose a strong performance as the apothecary Ned Keene, and Iain Paterson was terrific as Captain Balstrode. If the ENO restage this in coming years, one can only hope they will be able to call on his services for the role.

Despite the fact that this was a concert performance, broadcast on Radio 3, those of us in the audience had the advantage of some clever staging. Grimes’s new apprentice was present, cowering under his fierce domination, and at the beginning of Act II while Ellen is singing alone, the chorus (in church) turned round towards the chorus master, who conducted them standing in front of the bust of Henry Wood. As they sang, the Albert Hall organ played — a lovely touch. Then as the act progressed, Skelton hit his forehead in frustration, before calming down and trying to encourage the boy, sending him off-stage and letting him down by a rope. As the men from the town approached he forgot the rope, and we witnessed the fatal moment. At the end of the act, Balstrode stood alone on stage, the viola produced another solo, beautifully played by Amélie Roussel, and he slowly picked up one of the boots the boy had left behind.

Act III started with an off-stage band for the tavern scene, but as the chorus and principal singers start to express their disapproval of Grimes, using strong arm gestures, the stage was set for Amanda Roocroft to give a lovely rendering of “Peter, we’ve come to take you home”. To her horror, Balstrode tells him to take the boat out and sink it, and Grimes slowly exited winding his way through the audience in the pit. The singers returned to stage, the chorus intoned words about the majestic sweep of the sea, and this superb performance came to an end.

Edward Gardner with the ENO orchestra and chorus, along with Stuart Skelton as Grimes raised this to the very highest level, and I cannot wait to hear them do it again at the London Coliseum.

Der Rosenkavalier, English National Opera, ENO, London Coliseum, January 2012

For those who love this Strauss/Hofmannsthal collaboration, the programme booklet contains an interesting essay by Mike Reynolds, describing the vital contributions by Hofmannsthal’s collaborator, Count Harry Kessler. This well-connected and talented man, who was brought up in France, England and Germany, chose the plot and had a huge influence on its structure and realisation. The result inspired Strauss to create one of the most glorious operas ever written, and in Ronald Harwoood’s play Collaboration when the 80-year old Strauss is faced by allied soldiers at his house in 1945, he says, “I am Richard Strauss, the composer of Rosenkavalier“.

The silver rose in Act II, all images by Clive Barda

Tomlinson and Connolly in Act I

Such a fabulous opera deserves performances of the highest calibre, and we had some here at the ENO. John Tomlinson is perhaps the finest Baron Ochs I have ever seen, giving this dreadful character a boorish aplomb that never goes over the top, and his diction, as ever, renders surtitles superfluous. He finds his match in the Octavian of Sarah Connolly, who invests this travesti role with youthful rambunctiousness, and sings with glorious power.  And then there is the Sophie of Sophie Bevan, who after a nervous start in Act II sang with quiet charm, floating her high notes above the confusion created by Ochs. Her meek responses to the Marschallin in Act III were enunciated with a tension that will remain with me as a template for all future performances of this opera. The Marschallin herself was Amanda Roocroft, a singer I have admired greatly as E.M. in Makropulos,  as Ellen Orford in Peter Grimes, and more recently as Eva in Meistersinger, but she has yet to inhabit the present role. I liked the wistfulness she showed in Act I after Octavian has left and she suddenly realises her little joke may kill their amours, and again in Act III her acceptance that the affair with Octavian is now over, but her portrayal needed more gravitas, and her appearance to quieten the confusion in Act III, which can be a high point of the opera, fell rather flat.

Amanda Roocroft in Act I

Musically the performance flowed with great charm under the baton of Edward Gardner, who gave fine support to the singers and produced magnificent climaxes from the orchestra at suitable moments, such as after Octavian leaves in Act I, and in the final Act.

The supporting roles were performed with great panache, the scheming Valzacchi and Annina well portrayed by Adrian Thompson and Madeleine Shaw, who whirled elegantly to the waltz time of the music as she handed the letter to Ochs towards the end of Act II. Marianne Leitmetzerin had great stage presence as Sophie’s duenna, prodding her charge with a fan to keep her on track in the conversation with Octavian, and Gwyn Hughes Jones was super as the Italian singer at the Marschallin’s levée in Act I. As Sophie’s father Faninal, Andrew Shore bristled with restrained emotion, and as he walked over to embrace his daughter towards the end of Act III he invested the moment with heartfelt reality.

Tomlinson and Connolly in Act III

This is a revival of David McVicar’s 2008 production, which comes from Scottish Opera, and I’m afraid I have reservations. Could someone please tell the supers not to run round pointing rifles at Ochs in Act III — this is the Austro-Hungarian empire, not the wild west — and Faninal offers Ochs a very old tokai, not a brandy. Tokai is a lovely sweet wine from Hungary, low in alcohol, just right for that time of day. Why can’t Alfred Kalisch, the translator keep with the original? And while on the topic why does he introduce claret when Ochs lies wounded on the couch? The text says nothing of claret, and in any case it was not served in a claret bottle.

These irritations aside, the scene for the presentation of the silver rose with Octavian in silver armour had a fairy-tale charm, and the musical quality of the performance makes this a must-see, particularly with the glorious representations of Ochs and Octavian by Tomlinson and Connolly.

Wonderful stuff, but be aware that performances, which continue until February 27, start at 6:30, or 5:30 on Saturdays — for details click here.

Peter Grimes, Royal Opera, Covent Garden, June 2011

Towards the end of Act III when Ellen Orford and Captain Balstrode find Grimes on his own, he covers his head with his coat, just as the apprentice did in Act II when Ellen tried to draw him out. This is a Grimes whose appalling lack of social skills render him easy meat for the inhabitants of The Borough, who can forget their differences by uniting against him, treating him as an unwanted outsider, and Ben Heppner played that part with consummate skill. I first saw him in this role in Chicago in 1997, and there is something touching about his lumbering clumsiness, his visionary dreams, his determined bloody mindedness and his singing of “What harbour shelters peace?”

Grimes enters the tavern in Act I, all photos by Clive Barda

Amanda Roocroft was simply wonderful as Ellen Orford, her voice as sure as the personality she inhabited on stage. The only woman who could really bring Peter out of his shell, she was so strong when she criticises him for “This unrelenting work, this grey unresting industry”. Yet even she cannot protect the boy — well played by Patrick Curtis — who looked to be no more than eleven years old. When the door to the tavern flies wide open for the second time in Act I the boy stands there alone, just as Grimes did earlier when he entered and stood in the open doorway singing, “Now the Great Bear and Pleiades …”. This powerful production by Willy Davis was extremely well revived by François de Carpentries, amply bringing out these high moments.

Act II, Grimes takes the apprentice off to work despite Ellen's pleas

Jonathan Summers gave a strongly sympathetic performance of Balstrode, and Roderick Williams performed well as the apothecary, Ned Keene. I would have preferred more spitefulness and edge from Jane Henschel’s Mrs. Sedley, who came over rather as an old fuss pot, but Catherine Wyn-Rogers was a fine Auntie, and Rebecca Botone and Anna Devin acted their hearts out as her nieces. Whenever they were on stage they were always near the centre of the action, and worked brilliantly well together.

Act III, The Borough prepare to march to Grimes's hut

The designs by John Macfarlane are plain but effective, well lit by David Finn. I love the opening of the set for the dawn music of the first sea interlude, and when Ned Keene breaks the tension in the Act I tavern scene with “Old Joe has gone fishing”, I love the direction that produces a dance in 7/4 time. This production brings out the horrid awkwardness of Grimes’s estrangement from the local community, eliciting our sympathy for him, and was powerfully supported by the orchestra and chorus under Andrew Davis’s direction.

Performances continue until July 3 — for details click here.

The Makropulos Case, English National Opera, ENO at the London Coliseum, September 2010

Emilia Marty, Ellian MacGregor, Eugenia Montez, Elsa Müller, Ekatěrina Myškin, all E.M., just like her original name Elina Makropulos. This beautiful woman, born in Crete to Hieronymos Makropulos, is now 339 years old but has not aged since she was 39. A secret formula invented by her father, court physician to Emperor Rudolf II, keeps her alive for 300 years, and it is now time to renew the dose. But the formula is locked inside a desk drawer in the house of Jaroslav Prus, whose family has been engaged in a one hundred year legal battle against the family of Albert Gregor.

This Janaček opera, based on a contemporary comedy by Karel Čapek, has a serious philosophical side, and as Janaček says in a letter to his muse Kamila Stösslova, “We are happy because we know our life isn’t too long. So it’s necessary to make use of every moment, to use it properly. It’s all hurry in our life — and longing”. For Elina Makropulos, in her present incarnation as the beautiful opera singer Emilia Marty, the urgency is to recover the formula, but after finally acquiring it, she gives up. Emilia Marty is the key to this opera, and Amanda Roocroft gave us a stunning portrayal. Her voice was strong and sure, she looked terrific, and she played the part of an alluring woman to perfection. The whole cast gave her excellent support and I particularly liked the singing of Peter Hoare as Albert Gregor, whom she called Bertiku (she was after all his multi-great grandmother in a previous incarnation). I was also very taken with Laura Mitchell as the attractive young opera singer Kristina.

Amanda Roocroft as Emilia Marty, photos by Neil Libbert

The production by Christopher Alden — a co-production with the National Theatre, Prague — has been restaged to perfection in this revival that was dedicated to Charles Mackerras, the man who really put Janaček on the map in Britain. The set designs by Charles Edwards, in steel-and-glass deco, are based on a real scene in Prague and work extremely well. The same set serves for all three Acts: the law offices, the opera house, and finally the hotel room, a metaphor for the transience of mortal life. I’m not always a great fan of opera in English, but in this case it is very effective, and I loved the use of Greek when Emilia sings of her father being iatros kaisaros Rudolphou (physician to the Emperor Rudolf). At the beginning, when the legal case is the focus, people in the lawyer’s office write a plan of the relationships on a blackboard at the rear of the stage, and this is recaptured at the end when the focus is the secret medical formula, but unfortunately they then cover the blackboard with quasi-mathematical gobbledygook. Medical mumbo jumbo would be more appropriate, but that’s my only complaint — it’s a great production.

Musically it was brilliantly performed under the direction of Richard Armstrong. He’s an expert on Janaček’s music, and was once awarded the Czech government’s Janaček medal during his time as music director of the Welsh National Opera. You will not easily find a better production or performance of Makropulos, nor a better singer of the main role, and if you want to choose between this and Faust, which is on at the same time, I wouldn’t hesitate. This is the one to go for.

Performances continue on September 24, 26, October 1 and 5. Only five performances in total so don’t wait too long.

Die Meistersinger, in concert at the Proms, 17 July 2010

Wagner’s Meistersinger scales the heights of comedy, passion, youthful energy and mature wisdom. It’s a magnificent opera and should produce some wonderful productions, though I saw a real horror last summer at Bayreuth! In such a case one is better off with a concert performance, which of course this was, and it was terrific. The music was played with clarity and unflagging energy from the orchestra of the Welsh National Opera under the direction of Lothar Koenigs, and the cast was the same as their recently acclaimed production. Unfortunately the men were all in plain black, with no nod to the costumes, except for an apron for Hans Sachs in Act II, befitting his role as a cobbler, inundated with worried neighbours wanting to talk, and claiming uncomfortable shoes to justify their visits. This is where Amanda Roocroft as Eva interacted so well with Bryn Terfel as Sachs, their body language as eloquent as their words. Both of them sang magnificently, and Terfel gave a wonderfully nuanced performance. He built up gradually through Acts I and II, and in Act III his Wahn monologue was beautifully done, and he ended very strongly with his Verachtet mir die Meister nicht . . .

Christopher Purves was a superbly arrogant and insecure Beckmesser. He sang wonderfully, and his chewing up of the prize song was a lovely comic turn, but what a pity the translation in the libretto missed a trick in line two, translating ‘Blut’ as ‘blossom’ when it means ‘blood’ — Beckmesser has mistakenly sung Blut instead of Blüt. The last time I saw Purves he sang an excellent Tonio in I Pagliacci at the ENO, another role for a foolish and rejected lover, but I imagine his abilities go beyond these comic roles, and he’s surely a rising star. Andrew Tortise also sang beautifully as David, temporarily abandoning his beautiful tone as he made a gloriously deliberate mess of his first attempt at Am Jordan Sankt Johannes stand early in Act III. Anna Burford did well as Magdalena, and only Raymond Very as Walther was disappointing. His voice lacked youthful energy and did not come over well in the huge Albert Hall, though on the BBC recording the microphone seems to have picked up his voice far better. In close-up on the television he looked fine, if a little old for the part, but in the Hall his little white beard and poor posture made him look like a middle-aged version of Beckmesser.

The orchestra of less than seventy players, apart from some extra brass in the second part of Act III, produced big sounds when necessary yet managed to feel almost like a chamber orchestra at times. The chorus was magnificent, and witnessing Meistersinger in the Albert Hall with these performers was an uplifting experience. For such a feast of music one really wants the dynamic range afforded by a large auditorium, and I applaud The Proms for their first performance of this opera.

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.