A Village Romeo and Juliet, Queen Elizabeth Hall, QEH, South Bank Centre, 25 September 2012

This lyric drama in six scenes by Frederick Delius is based on a novel by Gottfried Keller, inspired by a report in the Swiss newspaper Zürcher Freitagszeitung from 3 September 1847. A young man of 19 and girl of 17 had fallen in love despite the enmity of their peasant families. One evening the young couple danced together at a local inn; the next day they were found dead in a nearby meadow.

Keller’s novel elaborated these essentials by including an itinerant fiddler who has land between the two families, but could not legally inherit it because he is illegitimate. He is happy for the young people to use it, and the drama starts with them, Sali (Romeo) and Vreli (Juliet), as children. With the family quarrel leading to lawsuits that eventually bring ruin to both, they are forbidden to play together.

By Scene 2, six years later, they meet again and fall in love. Their clandestine encounters are on the Fiddler’s land, but her father Marti catches them and Sali strikes him to the ground. Marti later loses his reason and leaves the house, which is put up for sale. After his departure, Sali enters and the young couple settle by the fire to sleep. Both dream the same dream, of being married in the old church at Seldwyla, and we hear organ and bells. A lovely crescendo starting on the harp and strings brings morning, and thus ends Scene 4 and the first half.

The singing got off to a terrific start with Christopher Maltman as Sali’s father Manz singing powerfully. Andrew Shore sang Marti, and though I thought the pitch was rather too low for him in parts he came into his own at the end of Scene 3 when he catches the two lovers together. This great singing actor showed sudden intense anger, giving this moment huge dramatic impact.

As the young lovers, Anna Devin gave a gentle and sweetly sung portrayal of Vreli, and Joshua Ellicott endowed Sali with a strongly lyrical tone. Together their duets were excellent, soaring to wonderful heights in Scenes 4 and 6, though it was hard to hear the words despite the English text. David Wilson-Johnson did well in this respect, singing very clearly as the fiddler.

In scene 5 six soloists joined the lovers and fiddler at front stage, and with the chorus at the rear we are at the local fair, the lady soloists singing with great vivacity. But Sali and Vreli feel out of place and walk together to the paradise garden. This famous piece of music was so beautifully conducted that I found myself carried through time to another world. Finally in Scene 6 the rumpus of the common world returns, and the lovers re-enter. The fiddler suggests they join him in the vagabond life, but a bargeman is heard on the river and they decide to leave together. Taking a barge they cast off, and drift to the middle of the river where Sali removes the plug from the hull. They fall into each others arms and the barge begins to sink

A wonderful performance all round, with Ronald Corp’s conducting of the New London Orchestra producing glowing crescendos. The Walk to the Paradise Garden was beautifully played and this concert performance of Delius’s fourth opera was a treat, though sadly a one-off.

Die Zauberflöte, Royal Opera, Covent Garden, February 2011

Mozart’s Magic Flute can be both magical and portentous, and this production by David McVicar gives us both. As the overture starts, a smartly dressed young man in eighteenth century costume climbs over the Stalls Circle and onto the front of the stage. This is Tamino, whose entrance is followed by dark figures entering the auditorium at all levels, from Stalls to Amphi, carrying lights.

Royal Opera House photos by Mike Hoban

When the curtain opens a huge serpent appears on stage, which Christopher Maltman, as a very engaging Papageno, later claims to have killed. His body language confirms that the ladies of the night are right to gag him for his lies, and his attitudes provide an excellent contrast to the noble Tamino, beautifully sung by Joseph Kaiser.

Maltman as Papageno

This was a super cast, with Kate Royal as a lovely Pamina in her princess-like dress, made dowdy by her captivity, while Anna Devin was a captivatingly sexy Papagena in her short, tight skirts and bright colours. Franz-Josef Selig was a commanding Sarastro, and Jessica Pratt a fierce queen of the night, if somewhat harsh of tone in Act I. The German diction was excellent from most of the singers; Christopher Maltman was particularly good in his delivery, as was  Donald Maxwell as Second Priest — I heard every word with clarity.

The designs by John Macfarlane work very well, giving the three boys a scruffy appearance with dirty legs and old-fashioned shorts and jumpers, and showing splashes of bird droppings on the back of Papageno’s cheap suit. The death-like armour and cloaks for the two men who come on in Act 2 give an appearance of great power as they sing, “Der, welcher wandert diese Strasse voll Beschwerden/ Wird rein durch Feuer, Wasser, Luft und Erden/. . .” (He who walks this path heavy with cares, will be purified by fire, water, air and earth . . .). “Mich schreckt kein Tod . . .” (Death doesn’t frighten me) responds Tamino, and we are engaged by his strength of purpose in seeking enlightenment, unlike the happy Papageno who merely wants a wife and family.

Royal and Selig as Pamina and Sarastro

Incidentally, the Papageno in 1791 at the first performance in Vienna was the librettist, Schikaneder. He and Mozart were both freemasons, which at the time had slightly different connotations from what it has today. This was the age of Enlightenment when reason was seen as an ideal that should underlie legitimacy and authority, embodied here by Sarastro, and opposed by the Queen of the Night.

Finale

It was a treat to have Colin Davis in the pit, giving the singers his full support, and in this dress rehearsal helping the boys to keep on track at one point.

Further performances are scheduled until February 24, with David Syrus conducting the final two — for more details click here.

The Cunning Little Vixen, Royal Opera, Covent Garden, March 2010

For anyone who loves magical realism this opera is one of the best, and the production by Bill Bryden makes the most of it, with forest animals on the ground and flying through the air. The dichotomy between the slow moving human world and the swift flow and change of the animal realm is brought out very well, and the springtime of Act III is beautifully portrayed. There’s a famous poem in Czech called May (Mai in Czech) extolling the mysterious powers of nature, and in his libretto, Janaček uses May as a metaphor for springtime. He was powerfully drawn to nature, and this opera, like its predecessor Katya Kabanova — also playing in London at present — pits natural forces against the contrivances of human civilization. Janaček wrote it in 1924 when he was nearly 70, three years after Katya, and both operas, along with his two final ones, deal with death in one way or another. This one in particular juxtaposes the aging of men with the cyclical renewal of nature.

Human civilization is mainly represented by three men, the Forester, the Schoolmaster, and the Priest, and at one point all three sit in a round orb suspended from above, reminding me of that nursery rhyme, Rub-a-dub-dub; three men in a tub. The three of them are, at least emotionally, frustrated, and the schoolmaster’s yearning for a gypsy girl, is like the yearning of man for nature, and parallels the forester’s original entrapment of the vixen, whom he can’t keep. In the event, the gypsy girl, whom we never see, marries the poacher, and the vixen marries the fox and produces a huge family. When the poacher shoots her, a small child in the audience burst into tears, which charmed some people, but this is not an opera for small children. It’s very much an adult work, and I think the Royal Opera have done the right thing to have it sung in English. The libretto by the composer is subtle, and worth understanding. That said, the opera first became known through its German translation by Max Brod, which gave us the English title. In Czech it’s called Vixen Sharp Ears.

The conducting by veteran Charles Mackerras was wonderful. This is the man who introduced British audiences to Janaček, and having him in the orchestra pit was a treat. The singing was very good throughout. Emma Matthews was a thoroughly charming vixen, and Elisabeth Meister gave a good portrayal of the fox, replacing Emma Bell at the last minute. Christopher Maltman was an excellent forester, and Robin Leggate and Jeremy White both did well as the schoolmaster and the priest, with Matthew Rose singing strongly in the bass role of the poacher.

But this is an opera to be seen as well as heard, and William Dudley’s designs, along with the movement directed by Stuart Hopps, have a wonderful charm. Magical realism is probably more widely known from something like One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, but the Slavic version is also a joy. Bulgakov’s Master and Margarita comes to mind, and in the opera world Prokofiev’s Love for Three Oranges, written just three years before Vixen. If you don’t already know the opera, and even if you do, this production by Bill Bryden is a must-see.