Faust, Royal Opera, Covent Garden, September 2011

Covent Garden has a talent for staging nineteenth century operas in sumptuous productions with excellent singers, and this is another fine example.

Gounod’s Faust, with its libretto by Barbier and Carré based on Carré’s earlier play Faust et Marguerite, is loosely fashioned on Goethe’s great work, though it’s hardly Goethe. David McVicar’s production, with its sets by Charles Edwards and costumes by Brigitte Reiffenstuel, all superbly lit by Paule Constable, are wonderfully evocative of the period when this 1859 opera was created. It may be high-brow French pantomime, but many of the scenes are very effective, and Gounod produces some excellent orchestration with a lovely melodic line.

After Dmitri Hvorostovsky sang Avant de quitter ces lieux in Act II the second-night audience roared their applause, and we were treated to glorious singing by an all-star cast. After an unconvincing start as a venerable academic, Vittorio Grigolo sang his heart out as the youthfully revived Faust, and literally bounced onto the stage at the end to take curtain calls. His elegant Marguerite, more debutante than village maiden in this opera, was stylishly portrayed and lyrically sung by Angela Gheorghiu. Add to this the beautiful voice of Michèle Losier in the trouser role of Siebel, and the cast gave a wonderful rendition of the vocal roles, superbly grounded by René Pape as the ever present Mephistopheles, his voice and stage presence giving huge depth to the whole performance.

Conducting by Evelino Pidò gave Gounod’s music just what it needs, and if the stage action is a bit melodramatic . . . well that’s what this opera is, but the whole performance is visually appealing and vocally superb.

The production continues until October 10, though with cast changes for Marguerite and Valentin in some later performances — 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.

Werther, Royal Opera, Covent Garden, May 2011

He’s an anguished young man in love, but Werther lacks the red-blooded energy of Des Grieux (Manon) or Athanaël (Thaïs), and his unrealisable love for Charlotte turns into a suicidal obsession. The opera is based on Goethe’s Die Leiden des jungen Werthers, which can be seen as a cautionary tale where Werther dies alone, yet Massenet’s opera gives us a more glorious ending with the lovers united as Charlotte cradles the dying man in her arms. There they are in a lonely room within the stage, while snow falls outside, and the red shawl Charlotte wrapped around her white dress before rushing to Werther’s side matches the red blood on his white shirt. It’s a sad and lovely scene, and the audience roared their approval of Rolando Villazon in the title role, supported by Sophie Koch as an enigmatic Charlotte.

Act IV, Werther and Charlotte

Villazon seems ideally suited to this role, and though sounding a trifle underpowered he commanded the stage with his poetic anxiety. It was a super performance. The irony of this sad tale is embodied in a clash between the aristocratic sensitivities of Werther, and the simple small-town life personified by Charlotte, and her relations: her fiancé, later her husband, Albert, and her younger sister Sophie, along with the other characters and the children, who appear at the start and are heard again at the end during the death scene. Charlotte serves as their mother, sharing her love between them, but she cannot share love between Albert and Werther. She has different feelings for the two of them, well expressed in Act II when Albert asks her if she is happy and without regrets. Her response that if a woman has by her side such an upright and kind-hearted man, que pourrait-elle regretter? That says it all.

Bailli and children in Act I

This opera has an excellent libretto, the music is wonderful, and the orchestra played it beautifully under Pappano’s direction. Yet I feel it doesn’t grip audiences today in the way that Goethe’s 1774 story gripped sensitive souls of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. We live in a rather different world, foreshadowed by the children whose happy singing is heard at the beginning and the end. Their appearance worked well in this fine production by Benoit Jacquot, with its excellent costumes by Christian Gasc, well matched by Charles Edwards’ lighting and set designs, which show a grey background to the scenes in the open air, making it appear that only the here and now matter. Werther’s tragedy is his suffering in the here and now, which he expresses in Act II when he sings that in dying you cease to suffer and merely pass to the other side. But while Massenet’s music for Werther brings out huge emotions and stress, he gives Albert a much simpler line, strongly sung by Audun Iversen. The other, un-tormented characters were all well portrayed, with Eri Nakamura delightful as Sophie, and Alain Vernhes suitably dull and cautious as the Bailli.

One thing, however, disturbed the calm atmosphere of Act I. From the Amphitheatre the sound of water was persistent and intrusive, and other people I spoke to felt the same way. There is a pipe and water trough on stage but no water flows so the noise was confusing, and clearly heard even in orchestral high moments. Could this be Tennyson’s Babbling Brook? But that poem ends For men may come and men may go, but I go on for ever — yet fortunately it ceased after Act I.

There are five more performances, ending on May 21 — 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.

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.

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 Browning Version, Rose Theatre, Kingston-on-Thames, September 2009

This production by Peter Hall of Terence Rattigan’s play about a classics master at boarding school, was beautifully performed. Peter Bowles was utterly convincing as the dried-out classics master, Crocker-Harris, who has recently suffered a heart attack and is now resigning from the school to take up a less stressful position at a crammer. Charles Edwards was superb as the engagingly human science master, Frank Hunter, and his rather cold affair with Crocker-Harris’s wife, played by Candida Gubbins, was well-portrayed. James Laurenson was good as the non-entity of a headmaster, and James Musgrave was wonderful as Taplow, the pupil who is keen to get his promotion to the ‘remove’, and presents Crocker-Harris with the Browning version of Agamemnon by Aeschylus. The playful mockery of the boys is as nothing compared to the calculated cruelty of Crocker-Harris’s wife, who relates to her husband details of her affairs with the other masters, nor to the cold denial by the trustees of a pension to poor Crocker-Harris, who has served only eighteen years instead of the necessary twenty. Terence Rattigan, and of course Peter Bowles, engage our sympathy for this disappointed scholar who was once a star at Oxford and is now teaching his pupils to read Aeschylus, surely the hardest of the Greek playwrights to understand. What is it that turns bright young people into unloved experts who inspire little more than fear from 99% of their underlings. Whatever it is, Rattigan portrays the result with understanding and regret. An excellent play.