Medea, English National Opera, London Coliseum, February 2013

Spectacular success for the ENO gives audiences the British premiere of this baroque jewel that has lain in the shadows for about 300 years. With an excellent libretto by Thomas Corneille, well translated by Christopher Cowell, this terrific production by David McVicar makes compelling theatre.

Medea conjures confusion, all images ENO/ Clive Barda

Excellent choreography by Lynne Page suits both music and drama, Paule Constable’s lighting gives a very effective atmosphere, and Bunny Christie’s designs are terrific.

The whole thing is set in 1940s wartime, with Creon as head of a French army, Jason a Royal Navy Captain, and the airmen American. Jason is needed to help fight for Corinth, and Creon is only too happy to banish Medea, offer Jason his daughter Creusa as a bride, and ignore Orontes, Prince of Argos who expects to wed her. The interests of Orontes and Medea naturally coincide, but Creusa being in love with Jason, firmly rejects Orontes, and Medea, as her name implies (it’s related to the Greek verb μηδομαι meaning cunningly plan or contrive), decides to exact vengeance on Jason.

The turning point is in Act III, between the two intervals, when Jason’s dissembling and scheming is fully revealed to Medea and she decides to invoke the supernatural powers she embodies. At this point Charpentier’s music gives her more colourful harmonies, and though audiences in 1693 might have objected, we are entirely ready for them, and the whole effect is a musical treat.

Sarah Connolly was a marvellous Medea, sure of voice, stage presence and theatrical impact, a woman who can summon demons from the depths in Act III, and dispute Creon’s will in Act IV, bringing in wish maidens to drive him crazy. The underlying idea in that scene is that Creon’s relationship with his daughter Creusa has already shown a somewhat incestuous impropriety, and he is an easy victim. Creon himself was brilliantly sung and acted by Brindley Sherratt, and Katherine Manley gave a beautiful performance as Creusa. Roderick Williams sang forcefully as Orontes, showing admirable emotion in Act IV, while Jeffrey Francis gave a calm but rather wooden portrayal of Jason. In the end the dead bodies of his young sons are brought in, and Medea ascends to the heavens witnessing her final terrrifying act of vengeance.

Fine dancing and body movements by the twelve dancers in their multiple roles, and it is a pleasure to see effective choreography, unlike some recent productions at a nearby opera house in London. Super conducting by Christian Curnyn brought out the intriguing nature of the music. The big boss of French music in the seventeenth century was Lully who fiercely protected his territory, but Charpentier was arguably a better composer, and Medea is a masterpiece. Whether you like baroque opera or not, a production of this calibre it is a must-see. Unmissable.

Performances continue until March 16 — for details click here.

Julius Caesar, English National Opera, ENO, London Coliseum, October 2012

As a great fan of recent ENO productions I was hoping for better despite the many negative comments I had heard about this one.

Caesar and dancers, all images ENO/ Robert Workman

Julius Caesar, which deals with Caesar’s visit to Egypt in 47 BC when he was chasing Pompey and met the twenty-one-year old Cleopatra, is one of Handel’s great operas, full of rich melodies and stylistic variation, more so than any of his operas up to that time. Its rhythmic intensity compels movement from the performers, but in this odd production by Michael Keegan-Dolan the singers were mostly left fairly immobile while dancers took over the choreography. This sometimes suited the music and sometimes not, but the main problem is that it detracted from the impact of the singers and didn’t move the drama forward. Temporary losses of surtitles didn’t help, and it was not always easy to catch the words since the singers’ diction was of variable quality.

Ptolemy pours sand on Cleopatra

A more coherent production, with less histrionic waving of pistols, shots being fired, and red paint and even sand being poured over the singers might have helped, but for all that the dancers could do the choreographic content was nugatory. This was a pity because Patricia Bardon as Pompey’s widow Cornelia was a class act. Her singing and vocal expression of grief were outstanding, and counter-tenor Lawrence Zazzo as Julius Caesar had a truly Handelian quality. Tim Mead gave an intriguing and well thought out performance as Cleopatra’s teenage brother Ptolemy XIII, and Anna Christy was an earnest and vocally pretty if lightweight Cleopatra. In this important role she was poorly served by the costumes: her simple white dress and grey cardigan in Act I were frumpy, and her see-through tutu later on looked absurd.

Ptolemy and Cornelia

Christian Curnyn, who collaborated with the director in making various cuts to the music, particularly some of the recitative, conducted with a sure hand for the singers, bringing out the stylistic variety of this work, though the result was a tad lacking in bite. But it was the production that took the soul out of Handel’s masterpiece, and the transformation of Daniela Mack’s fine Sesto to be Cornelia’s daughter rather than her son seemed merely the offspring of a wish to be different.

Among strange opera productions I have seen and disliked, including some defiantly Regietheater ones in Germany, there are some I would be willing to see again in the hope they would reveal interesting though hitherto unnoticed interpretations. This is not one of them.

Performances continue until November 2 — for details click here.

Castor and Pollux, English National Opera, ENO, London Coliseum, October 2011

Originally composed in 1737 this opera was revised in 1754 and subsequently became Rameau’s most popular. Castor and Pollux are brothers, the former mortal, the latter immortal, and the start of the story is roughly that Castor is adored by Phoebe and her sister Telaira, who is betrothed to Pollux. He gives her up so she can marry his brother, but Phoebe arranges for Castor’s abduction and he is killed. All this is in the first of five acts, and was omitted from the original 1737 composition, which instead included a prologue involving Mars, Venus and other gods.

Pollux kils his brother's killer, all photos Alastair Muir

Quite rightly the ENO is putting on the revised version, with Christian Curnyn conducting the orchestra in a raised pit so that the sound comes out more clearly, and musically this was delightful. Allan Clayton and Roderick Williams were wonderfully strong as Castor and Pollux, carrying off their roles to perfection, and Sophie Bevan was a charmingly pure voiced Telaira. Rameau was a contemporary of Handel, but his music is quite different, eschewing recitatives and arias in favour of a harmonically intriguing development of the music.

Telaira with the dead Castor

This is an opera about deeply troubled characters, about melancholy and loss. The spurned Phoebe tells her sister that she, Phoebe will recover Castor from Hades if Telaira relinquishes her love for him, but in fact only Pollux can bring Castor back, and only by giving up immortality and taking his brother’s place.  This he does, but Castor will not leave his brother, and promises to return after only a day on earth. After reuniting with Telaira he attempts to return to Hades, but in the end Jupiter annuls Castor’s promise, brings Pollux back and the brothers are turned into stars, leaving Telaira alone in her grief.

The production by Barrie Kosky has some nice aspects. I liked the very realistic fight sequence when Castor was killed, and again when Pollux killed his killer. I liked the representation of Hades in mounds of earth, I liked the starlight falling on two empty pairs of shoes at the end, while Telaira is left abandoned, and I liked the huge wooden box structure in which all the action takes place. However, I was sitting in the central section, and friends on the side said their view was badly obscured. This is important because the action goes right across the interior of the box, and from the sides of the auditorium you can’t see it all.

Masked chorus from Hades

Other aspects of the production seemed over the top. When the chorus appeared in long masks it reminded me of a different opera I saw in Germany recently, and indeed Barrie Kosky works in Berlin. A German production of a French opera based on themes from Greece and Rome sounds rather like the Euro, and it didn’t all make sense. It may appeal to those who relish the idea of seeing a woman pull her knickers down on stage, first one pair then another — I counted six in one case — to say nothing of full frontal nudity of men and women with long hair hanging over their faces, or indeed fingers emerging from Hades to penetrate Phoebe. If you like that sort of thing you may love it. I didn’t. And I do wish opera houses would make sure their producers understand that the production should be visible from everywhere in the auditorium. Covent Garden made the same error with a production of Tristan by a German director, and I hope this is a mistake the ENO will only make once.

Having said all this, though, I applaud a wonderful musical presentation of what is probably Rameau’s operatic masterpiece.

Running time is two and three-quarter hours, and performances continue until December 1 — for details click here.