The Flying Dutchman, English National Opera, ENO, London Coliseum, April 2012

Sudden darkness in the auditorium … the orchestra struck up, and we were treated to great power and sensitivity from the baton of Edward Gardner. The silences were silent, the quiet passages quiet, and the loud passages with the chorus came over with huge force.

All images by Robert Workman

This new production by Jonathan Kent starts in the overture with a little girl being put to bed by her father Daland the sea captain. She dreams of the sea … the wild, windy sea, shown in video projections designed by Nina Dunn. Then as the opera gets underway we see huge designs by Paul Brown filling the stage from top to bottom, with lighting by Mark Henderson embracing the video effects and giving beautiful colour changes during Daland’s lyrical dialogue with his daughter, when salvation beckons.

Clive Bayley as Daland

In the end when the Dutchman chides his would-be saviour, Senta for her apparent unfaithfulness he silently vanishes from the party throng, she smashes a bottle . . . and it’s all over. She dies and he is redeemed.

Entrance of the Dutchman

James Creswell as the Dutchman exhibited superb restraint and nobility, both in voice and stage presence, and with Clive Bayley portraying Daland as an engagingly earnest father to Senta, this was a cast rich in wonderful bass tones. At the higher register, Stuart Skelton was a brilliant Erik, the young man in love with Senta. He is a star in the ENO firmament. As Senta herself, Orla Boylan gave a somewhat uneven vocal performance with some strong moments but a flaccid stage-presence.

Senta at the party

The Dutchman has been wandering the planet for countless years, and in Jonathan Kent’s production we see him dressed in a costume from two hundred years ago, contrasting with the girls working in a modern assembly shop where a costume party turns wild, threatening a gang rape of Senta . . . but suddenly the Dutchman’s ghostly crew sing powerfully from off-stage, scaring the living daylights out of the revellers. This is the same director who has produced Sweeney Todd now playing in the West End, so perhaps a bit of the Sweeney darkness has invaded Wagner, but that’s no bad thing, and the chorus carried it off superbly. They were wonderful.

The Flying Dutchman is the first of Wagner’s operas in the regular canon of ten, and this was the first time Edward Gardner has conducted any of them. I look forward to more!

Performances continue until May 23 — for details click here.

Tales of Hoffmann — a second view, ENO, London Coliseum, February 2012

This was a second visit to the English National Opera’s new production of Hoffmann, a joint venture with the Bavarian State Opera.

Olympia and her creator Spalanzani, all images Chris Christodolou

The cast was identical — see my previous review for more details — and once again, Georgia Jarman gave a remarkable performance as all three lovers: Olympia, Antonia, and Giulietta, along with the silent role of Stella in the Prologue and Epilogue. Her performance of Olympia the doll is hugely realistic, particularly in those moments where she apparently loses energy in her movements and the pitch of her voice declines. Clive Bayley reprised his sinister performance in the four roles of Hoffmann’s nemesis: Lindorf as a rival for Stella, Coppelius whose collection of stolen eyes provide a pair for Olympia, Dr. Miracle whose anti-hippocratic antics cause the death of Antonia, and Departutto whose employment of Giulietta to steal men’s souls nearly causes the end of Hoffmann’s artistic life. It is Nicklausse, his companion, doubling as his muse, who saves him, and in this role Christine Rice gave a stunning vocal performance. Her final soliloquy, containing the phrase “but our tears make us great” was sung with a warmth that gave a final focus to the entire evening.

Hoffmann with Antonia

The forcefully sung Hoffmann of Barry Banks is having a crisis in the Prologue, banging his head against the wall and tearing up his written notes. Somehow his love for wine, women and song has disconnected him from his muse, and this opera represents his regeneration as a creative artist.

Christine Rice as Nicklausse

The production by Richard Jones has very interesting aspects, but there are no programme notes and as Mr. Jones is a man of few words, here is a brief, albeit inadequate summary.

The very stylised actions in the Prologue and the first act, well-portrayed in the painting-by-numbers front drop that descends part way through that act, give way in the mysterious Act II to the angst of Antonia and her father. As Dr. Miracle’s ‘patient’ she is finally seen merely as an eerie spotlight, rather than in the flesh, and then as the third act comes into play it is not Hoffmann’s lovers who are in danger of being lost, but the man himself.

Metaphorically the stylised nature of Act I represents some kind of safety for Hoffmann, as if he were clinging to the edge of the pool, but this changes in Act II with Antonia’s strangely ill-defined malady. Now Hoffmann lacks an anchor, and in Act III is in danger of drowning. His survival depends partly on himself, as he defeats Schlemil in a knife fight, and partly on the ineptitude of the forces ranged against him. One of my favourite lines in the French original is where Giulietta drinks the poison reserved for Nicklausse, and Departutto calls out,  “Ah, Giulietta, maladroite!”

Departutto teases Giulietta

On the opening night I was puzzled by the workmen appearing to fix the stage in between Acts I and II, but both these acts are portrayed as slightly unreal, as if they are contrivances devised by Nicklausse, and the workmen fit into this scheme. The gorilla appearing in the interval between Acts II and III, and again throughout Act III seems to have puzzled everyone. I have no explanation except to note that Departutto’s destructions are wrought through non-intellectual, animal desires, catalysed by Giulietta, and … well, it’s a long shot … but E.T.A. Hoffmann was so enamoured of Mozart that he changed his third name to Amadeus, and in Mozart’s Magic Flute strange animals appear from the forest. That, like Hoffmann, is an opera in which the hero endures various trials before reaching a state from which he can move forward.

Finally, Antony Walker in the orchestra pit conducted with fine sensitivity, and the musical aspects came over beautifully. I look forward to seeing a revival of this production in years to come, but in the meantime performances at the ENO continue until March 10 — for details click here.

The Tales of Hoffmann, English National Opera, ENO, London Coliseum, February 2012

E.T.A. Hoffmann was a jurist, composer, critic, cartoonist, and author of fantastic tales that form the basis for Nutcracker and Coppelia. His stories about a composer named Kreisler inspired Schumann to his Kreisleriana, and after his death this polymath became a character in a play by Jules Barbier and Michel Carré, which Offenbach adopted, with a libretto by Barbier, for what is surely his greatest composition.

Barry Banks and Georgia Jarman, all images Chris Christodolou

Certainly he intended it to be his greatest work, but died before its completion, and as a result it has appeared in various versions. The story begins and ends in a drinking parlour where Hoffmann tells the tales of his three loves, Olympia, Antonia and Giulietta, and the sub-plot is that they are all representations of the opera singer Stella whom he loses at the end to Counsellor Lindorf. Such are the essentials, but among performance variations the lovers sometimes appear in a different order, and the courtesan Giulietta sails off in a gondola. So I was delighted that this production by Richard Jones places them in Hoffmann’s original order, with Giulietta dying as she drinks a poison intended for Hoffmann’s muse Nicklausse, who then rescues Hoffmann from the spell.

Georgia Jarman as Antonia the singer

The roles of Olympia, Antonia and Giulietta are frequently sung by three different sopranos, but here Georgia Jarman gave a superb performance of them all, suiting her body language to these very different women, as well as Stella who is seen but not heard. Having one singer do all these parts is how it should be, because Hoffmann’s lovers can be seen as manifestations of a single fantasy, and I’m delighted that the ENO found someone who can cope with all three. Similar considerations apply to some of the other roles, and Clive Bayley gave a great performance as Hoffmann’s nemesis in the bass roles of Lindorf/ Coppelius/ Dr. Miracle/ Departutto, with Simon Butteriss extremely good in the four baritone servant roles. Christine Rice sang gloriously as Hoffmann’s muse, and Graeme Danby gave a strong performance as Antonia’s father and the innkeeper. Barry Banks was a forceful Hoffmann, and from the orchestra pit Antony Walker gave the music a fine lightness of touch.

Banks, Jarman as Olympia the doll, and Christine Rice

This new production by Richard Jones has some interesting aspects, notably the fusing of Hoffmann’s young companion Nicklausse and his Muse. Dressed as a schoolboy he appears almost to be Hoffmann’s doppelgänger, restraining him from demons that would otherwise destroy him. Hoffmann is portrayed as a man with a serious alcohol problem, and before the music begins he is seen banging his head against the wall of his room. That room is a single set that serves all five acts, the advantage being that this whole thing can be seen as going on in Hoffmann’s mind, but the disadvantage being that the Giulietta act is not given the sumptuous staging it deserves. Like the beginning before the orchestra strikes up, each of the two intervals contains silent activity on stage. In the first one three men worked on the floor of the stage, and in the second a gorilla loped around. I understood neither — but see my review after a second visit.

The production is a joint one with the Bayerische Staatsoper in Munich, where it was performed (in French) last November, and will reappear this summer. Performances at the ENO continue until March 10 — for 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!

Bluebeard’s Castle, and Rite of Spring, ENO, London Coliseum, November 2009

This was the first night of a double bill, in which the main item was Bartok’s one-act opera performed by the English National Opera.

Bluebeard’s Castle is an extraordinarily dark work for two singers: Bluebeard and his new wife Judith. I thought this production by Daniel Kramer, with designs by Giles Cadle and lighting by Peter Mumford, worked very well, amply showing the light, the darkness and the blood. The castle has seven locked doors and Judith demands they be opened. When the fifth door was opened, out poured nine children, neatly arranged in increasing sizes, and behind the seventh door were the three former wives, each mother to three children. This production suggests that the wives were sadistically abused by Bluebeard, and just as he is about to do the same with his fourth wife, the opera ends. It’s intense and disturbing, and from the orchestra pit, Edward Gardner gave the music great power and lyricism. Clive Bayley sang an autistic and threatening Bluebeard, with Michaela Martens as a powerful Judith. This production was well worth the price of the ticket, and I only wish it had been followed by something more worthy.

Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring was given a tremendous rhythmic intensity by Edward Gardner, and in some ways the music complemented Bartok rather well. Unfortunately the dance-work accompanying the music — a co-production with the Fabulous Beast Dance Theatre, directed by Michael Keegan-Dolan — was a disappointment. A young man is killed, three women are drugged and gang raped by men dressed in animal heads, who later strip naked and put on women’s dresses. I liked the March Hare heads for the three women — the ones who drank the drugged tea — and the juxtaposition of March Hares and tea reminded me of Lewis Carroll’s Alice, but overall I found the interpretation unnecessarily crude. I prefer to see the performers dancing, rather than writhing horizontally on stage, because I find that more abstract choreography carries more power.