Tosca with Opolais, Lee and Volle, Royal Opera, Covent Garden, 20 March 2013

In this new cast, Kristine Opolais and Yonghoon Lee complemented Michael Volle, who has sung Scarpia all this month at Covent Garden. From my previous experience of him in other bass-baritone roles (from Salome to Aida) he more than lived up to expectations, but it was Yonghoon Lee as Cavaradossi who was the new find of the evening.

The Act I set, all images ©ROH/ Tristram Kenton

From his Recondita armonia in Act I to his final moments in Act III this man was a revelation. His passion for Tosca was palpable, and after his glorious E lucevan le stelle in Act III, which he started very quietly and gently, he grasped at her when she appears with the safe conduct. Unlike the usual plump tenors, Yonghoon Lee is admirably slim, and he used his body to great effect. His Vittoria in Act II was the outburst of a committed young artist, his whole body showing passionate commitment, and emphasising the brutal mendacity of a police chief in the dying days of a lost regime. Then in the late moments of Act III standing with his back to the audience while the soldiers fire, he crumpled, his life blown away like the flame of a candle.

Scarpia in Act II

As Scarpia the police chief, Michael Volle’s characterisation and voice came over with huge power. From the dramatic sweep of his entrance in Act I to his grasp of a prize that eludes him and suddenly kills him in Act II, this was a great performance. Standing on the lower level near the Attavanti chapel in Act I you can see him thinking, and as the act closes his determination against the forces of the orchestra below, and of God on the upper level, came through with a certainty of success. Then in Act II as he moves into Ha più forte, expressing his relish for a violent conquest rather than soft surrender, we witness the dark forces impelling this man to destroy the individual liberty. When Kristine Opolais as Tosca kills him she does so with despatch, and her anxiety for the safe conduct and placing of the candles was beautifully done. She acted the entire role with great conviction, but vocally seemed not yet ideally suited to the heady drama of Tosca.

Among smaller roles, Jeremy White made a fine Sacristan, and among small matters of production, the slow steps of the firing squad in perfect time to the music, and Spoletta’s putting an arm out to stop the captain of the guard delivering a finishing shot, show great care for detail by revival director Andrew Sinclair.

This whole performance was a treat, but what really raised its level, apart from the singers, was Maurizio Benini in the orchestra pit. His conducting of Puccini’s wonderful score generated huge emotion, with gloriously powerful sounds from the orchestra at moments such as the point in Act I just before Tosca’s exit, and in Act II when Tosca finally realises what is going on in the other room, and in the crescendo as Scarpia presses her and she screams for the torture to stop.

This was a knock-out, and the vocal characterisations by Yonghoon Lee and Michael Volle are not to be missed. Unfortunately performances with this cast are sold out, but further ones with Serafin, Antonenko and Hendricks under the baton of Daniel Oren take place in July — for details click here.

Tosca, with Gheorghiu, Kaufmann, and Terfel, Royal Opera, Covent Garden, July 2011

The orchestra, under brilliant direction by Antonio Pappano, started with a bang and the tension kept up throughout. Lukas Jakobski made a strong entrance as the escaped prisoner Angelotti, and as he left, Jeremy White came on as a humble Sacristan followed by a madding crowd of children. All very good theatre, before Cavaradossi enters, climbs to his platform, and takes up his paints. Then as I was beginning to daydream I was pulled up short by the voice of a god — Jonas Kaufmann launching into Recondita armonia. This was . . . . well, words fail me. The performance suddenly hit a higher level. Kaufmann was fabulous, well matched by Angela Gheorghiu as Tosca, showing superb quiet notes. This was a woman in love with Cavaradossi, rather than a prima donna, and she kept up the almost understated portrayal throughout. It was very effective.

The Sacristan and children

In this Jonathan Kent production, Act I takes place on two levels and towards the end of the act, as Scarpia is singing near the Attavanti chapel, a crowd of people enter at the upper level. The lighting design by Mark Henderson works particularly well here, and watching the congregation, I noticed the bishop cross himself in time to the music. It’s only a small detail, but getting the details right help a performance come to life — and this was a performance to treasure.

Kaufmann and Terfel

Bryn Terfel’s portrayal of Scarpia showed him to be a thoroughly nasty piece of work, and at the start of Act II we see a man determined to pursue his prey, even though he serves a regime that’s about to fall to Napoleon’s forces. His soliloquies were beautifully delivered, yet when Spoletta — strongly sung by Hubert Francis — enters, Scarpia’s aggressive nature reasserts itself as he knocks the fellow over. Act II swept forward, and the dragging off of Cavaradossi after his Vittoria! Vittoria! was a hugely powerful moment. There were also lovely moments of silence, which helped raise the tension, such as when Ms. Gheorghiu launched into Vissi d’arte. After her beautiful rendering of this aria, Scarpia gave her a slow handclap — a nice touch. Her killing of him, her movements and her placing of the candles, was perfect and I had to remind myself this is an opera and she’s actually gearing everything to musical cues. It all seemed so real I wanted to tell her to get a move on and get away.

With E lucevan le stelle in Act III, Kaufmann started calmly, but by the time he hit the last line E non ho amato mai tanto la vita! (And never have I loved life so much!) his emotion flew from the stage to embrace the audience. The shots from the firing squad sounded like hell, and after Tosca jumped to her death, Spoletta calmly walked forward as the curtain comes down. The menace is still there, and one urgently waits for Napoleon’s forces to arrive.

Pappano’s conducting was nothing short of superb, and a more emotional evening one could not wish for. But one small thing occurred to me during Act I, a mere quibble with the libretto, and I only mention it for Tosca buffs. When Tosca and Cavaradossi agree to meet later she sings E luna piena (the moon is full), but Sardou sets his play specifically on 17 June 1800 when Napoleon’s forces have just won the battle of Marengo. Full moon was on 7 June that year, so the moon would be in the last quarter and have risen only an hour or two before dawn. Yes, I know . . . it’s artistic license, but I’ve never seen this mentioned before, so I thought it worth a comment.

There are only two performances with this cast, so beg, borrow or steal to get a ticket for the final performance on June 17 when the present run of Tosca will close — for more details click here.

Tosca, Royal Opera, Covent Garden, June 2011

Sex, politics and religion — heady stuff when Sarah Bernhardt played the title character in Sardou’s 1887 play La Tosca, and Puccini saw her do it. He immediately wanted to turn the play into an opera, but there were problems with the rights, and he was soon busy with Manon Lescaut and then La Bohème. Eventually he managed to return to Sardou’s play and in January 1900 produced one of the greatest operas ever.

As Floria Tosca in this performance, Martina Serafin sang and acted beautifully, and Marcello Giordani was a superb Cavaradossi. Unfortunately in the dress rehearsal I attended, Juha Uusitalo was disappointing as Scarpia. I admired him immensely in October 2008 as Jokanaan in the Met’s Salome, but here he was strangely lacking in stage presence, and failed to exhibit the menace that this forceful and much feared police chief should have. After all this is based on real events, and Sardou specifically set the action during a period of less than 24 hours, from 17 June 1800 to dawn on June 18, when Napoleon was about to liberate Rome from the rule of Naples.

The two levels in Act I with Scarpia in the foreground.

This political and personal drama is well served by Jonathan Kent’s production with its designs by Paul Brown, and well aided by Mark Henderson’s lighting, which starts very darkly in all three acts before gradually brightening, suiting the theatrical development in each case. The production has one or two unusual aspects: Act I is set on two levels, allowing Scarpia to sing on his own near the Attavanti chapel, while the choir and congregation are on the upper (ground) level; and in Act II after Tosca has killed Scarpia she finds the letter of safe-conduct not in his hand, but in the breast pocket of his jacket, stained with blood.

Martina Serafin as Tosca at the end of Act II

Scarpia’s henchman, Spoletta was brilliantly sung by Hubert Francis, whose acting and presence were stronger than that of his master, and the Sacristan in Act I was superbly portrayed by Jeremy White. These excellent performances of minor characters bring huge authenticity to the drama, but the main plaudits go of course to Serafin and Giordani, along with Antonio Pappano in the orchestra pit. Act III starts beautifully quietly — this is wonderful music, and Pappano directed it with immense sensitivity — but the repeated coughs in the audience were distracting. The Royal Opera House needs to think how they might alleviate this irritating problem — how would they manage it if this were a live cinema relay?

Performances of Tosca with the current cast continue until June 30, followed by two further performances on July 14 and 17 with Angela Gheorghiu as Tosca, Jonas Kaufman as Cavaradossi and Bryn Terfel as Scarpia — for details click here.

I shall report on the Gheorghiu/ Kaufman/ Terfel cast after the July 14 performance.

Billy Budd, Glyndebourne, May 2010

The power of evil to destroy good is an integral part of this opera, so a production and its performance must be partly judged with that in mind. This new production by Michael Grandage goes for a sense of claustrophobia inside the ship, darkly lit, with two levels above the deck that the sailors inhabit. I liked the set design by Christopher Oram with its curved edges at the front, as if we are viewing the whole scene through a giant peep hole. The final death of Billy is done off-stage, only the pulling of the rope being visible within the ship.

Jacques Imbrailo as Billy, photo by Alastair Muir

The music — and this is wonderfully powerful music by Britten — was brilliantly played by the London Philharmonic under the baton of Mark Elder. The part of Billy, the cheerfully trustworthy foundling whom everyone loves, was strongly sung by Jacques Imbrailo, who acted the part with a suitably ready optimism. His nemesis, Claggart was Phillip Ens, whom I last saw in the Ring at Covent Garden singing Fafner. He was surprisingly lyrical, giving an impression of Claggart as a more nuanced and less evil man than one normally associates with the role. In his monologue in the second scene of Act II when he sings “alas, alas, the light shines in the darkness and the darkness comprehends it and suffers” it seemed he really regretted being the dark force he has become. The intellectual honesty and sad weakness of Captain Vere was brought out well by John Mark Ainsley, and Iain Paterson sang strongly as Mr. Redburn the First Lieutenant, as did Matthew Rose as Mr. Flint the Sailing Master. The cast worked well together, the chorus was terrific, and Jeremy White showed particular strength and sympathy as Dansker, the older sailor.

Volunteers with Billy, ready to fight the French, photo by Alastair Muir

The costumes by the designer, Christopher Oram were wonderfully drab, suiting Paule Constable’s sombre lighting, but with a flash of red for the marines who escort Billy to the yard arm. If you’ve never seen Billy Budd before then this production has a welcome conventionality that eschews unexpected imagery. It adumbrates the restrained power of a warship that has no immediate battle to fight, apart from the sighting of a French frigate that disappears into the mist as the wind drops. But I would have liked a greater sense of the open sea and the Christ-like aspect of Billy to emerge. Darkness is good, though I felt the shining light of Billy was dimmer than it needed to be, and the menace of Claggart could have been stronger. A greater contrast between good and evil might have left a more lasting impression, but it was a wonderful performance, with powerfully nuanced musical direction from Mark Elder in the orchestra pit.

Glyndebourne’s production of this remarkable opera, an opera having not a single female voice, is very welcome indeed, and performances continue until June 27.

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.

Tosca, Royal Opera, July 2009

Tosca, Royal Opera, July 2009. The main reason I bought tickets for this revival was to see Deborah Voigt as Tosca, with Marcello Giordani as Cavaradossi. Unfortunately Ms. Voigt cancelled due to acute colitis, and is being replaced by two other ladies: Angela Gheorghiu and Nelly Miricioiu. Ms. Gheorghiu sang on the first night, and I saw the second night on July 11 with Ms. Miricioiu. Bryn Terfel was Scarpia, and the conductor was Jacques Lacombe. Last year this same production by Jonathan Kent was superbly conducted by Antonio Pappano, and this time around Jacques Lacombe also did an excellent job, reminding me of his wonderful Ariadne auf Naxos in Berlin five months ago.

As Tosca, Nelly Miricioiu gave a fine performance, and though her singing lacked perfection her acting was superb. For my money she was far preferable to Micaela Carosi last year, who lost her pitch on some of the sustained notes and lacked the pathos essential to this role. Nelly Miricioiu had the pathos and never went over the top — she is a wonderful singing actress. I’m not sure the interaction with Marcello Giordani worked as well as it might, because he started off very strongly in Act I, but seemed to flag towards the end. I was slightly reminded of his performance opposite Karita Mattila as Manon in the Metropolitan Opera broadcast of Manon Lescaut of February 2008, though as Sharpless in the Metropolitan Opera simulcast of Butterfly in March 2009 he sang like a god.

What really made this evening terrific was the riveting performance of Bryn Terfel, who gave a strong and nuanced interpretation of Scarpia, showing him to be manipulative and incorrigible rather than purely evil. He exuded a smouldering sexual power, and in Act I of this production, where Scarpia stands at a lower level than the main floor of the church, Terfel’s powerful stage presence provided a fitting close to the end of the act. In that act, Kostas Smoriginas was a sympathetic Angelotti, and Jeremy White a convincingly foolish Sacristan. With Martyn Hill doing a fine job as Spoletta, this was an excellent cast, well-rehearsed by Stephen Barlow, who was the revival director. In fact there were significant improvements from last year, and the activities of the soldiers in Act III did not distract from the music in the way they did before.

Review — Lulu, Royal Opera, June 2009

This extraordinary opera by Alban Berg is about a femme fatale named Lulu, whose actions cause the death of three husbands, and two other lovers. The opera starts with a short prologue in which a circus animal-tamer presents his charges, including Lulu representing a snake. The rest of the opera is in three acts only two of which were complete at Berg’s death in 1935. The third act was only orchestrated in 1979, by Friedrich Cerha, because Berg’s widow refused to allow anyone to complete her husband’s work on Act III after one or two famous composers originally declined. It was a pity it took so long, because the opera is a dramatic whole, as one can see from a summary of the main action.

The three husbands are: a professor of medicine named Dr. Goll, an unnamed painter, and Dr. Schön, in that order. Other lovers include Schön’s son, Alwa, and the Countess Geschwitz. At the end Lulu works as a casual prostitute in London, and all three husbands reappear as clients, one being Jack the Ripper, who kills her. Alwa and the Countess are also killed in random violence

Here are more details of the action. While married to Goll, Schön is Lulu’s lover, and he and Alwa visit Lulu who is having her picture painted. After they leave, Lulu has sex with the painter, and when Goll returns the shock kills him. Lulu then marries the painter, continuing her affair with Schön, who buys all the painter’s work to sustain them. When the poor fellow realises he’s a cuckold living on the money of his wife’s lover he kills himself. Lulu then ensnares Schön, breaking his engagement to someone else, and marrying him. Like Goll, he returns home to find her with lovers: his son Alwa, an athlete named Rodrigo (a bodybuilder, sung by the same man as the animal-tamer), a schoolboy, and the Countess Geschwitz. He hands Lulu a gun to kill herself but she kills him instead, and goes to prison for murder. The Countess helps her escape, and she goes off with Alwa. Lulu and Alwa live a high life in Paris, but she’s on the run from Germany and the athlete reappears, with a Marquis who is a pimp, wanting to blackmail her and sell her to a brothel in Cairo. Lulu then escapes to London where she lives as a casual prostitute, along with Alwa and an old man named Schigolch from her past life. In the final scene Lulu meets three clients, played by her three dead husbands, and the Countess Geschwitz reappears. The second client kills Alwa in an argument over payment, and the third one turns out to be Jack the Ripper, who kills Lulu, and on the way out kills the Countess.

This new production by Christof Loy was roundly booed at the end, and quite rightly. It looked more like a concert performance than anything else, with all performers in black suits or black dresses, and an almost bare stage. Apparently there was some mess going on at the extreme stage right, but it was not visible to half the audience, including me. That is a serious fault, of course, but there were plenty more. For example, you’d think the designer could manage to put Lulu in a dress on the occasion when one of her admirers sings of her lovely ankle and calf, but no — she was in a trouser suit with no shoes, and her trousers reached down to her heels. If that is merely a costume glitch, how about the fact that the painter dies by his own hand, and the surtitles confirm it, yet Alwa swung an axe at him, and he fell down dead.

As to the performers, Lulu was sung by Agneta Eichenholz, who showed no sexuality whatsoever. It was impossible to understand what anyone saw in her, whereas Jennifer Larmore as the Countess Geschwitz seemed most desirable, and mysteriously sexy. The best performer of all was Michael Volle as Dr. Schön; he was simply terrific both in his voice and stage presence. Schön’s son Alwa was well performed by Klaus Florian Vogt, and Schigolch by Gwynne Howell. Dr. Goll was Jeremy White, the painter was Will Hartman, the athlete/animal-trainer was Peter Rose, and the schoolboy was Heather Shipp. The marquis was very well sung by Philip Langridge, and the orchestra was beautifully conducted by Antonio Pappano, though some may feel the music was too rounded at the edges, lacking astringency, but this is a matter of taste. Musically it worked very well, except that Agneta Eichenholz seemed out of her depth as Lulu, but what ruined the evening was the production. The spoken dialogue was miked-up, while the singing was not, which created a strange atmosphere as performers switched from one to the other. I shall not go back for a second visit, and I only hope the same producer does a far better job with Tristan und Isolde in the autumn.

The Beggar’s Opera by Benjamin Britten, Linbury Studio, Royal Opera House, Jan 2009

The original Beggar’s Opera was written by John Gay as a play incorporating lyrics sung to well-known tunes of the time. He did not write any music for it, but a week before its premiere at a theatre in Lincoln’s Inn Fields in January 1728, Johann Christoph Pepusch was brought in to write an overture and accompaniment for the singers. The combination was so successful that it provided the theatre manager with the capital to build a theatre on a new site. Called the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden, this was the forerunner of the present Royal Opera House.

Since the original there have been other versions, the most successful of which is surely Kurt Weill’s Threepenny Opera, which had catchy tunes, as did the original version of 1728. But in Britten’s version, where the original melodies are re-orchestrated, there seem to be scarcely any tunes, and I exited humming Mac the Knife from Weill’s version. The failure of Britten’s composition might have been alleviated by the production team, led by Justin Way, but the deliberately ham acting and garish costumes were over the top, and the production did not fit the style of Britten’s music.

In such circumstances it is hard to appreciate the singers, but Donald Maxwell was good as Lockit, and Sarah Fox sang beautifully as his daughter Lucy. Peachum was well performed by Jeremy White, as was his daughter Polly by Leah-Marian Jones, and Tom Randle was Macheath. Christian Curnyn conducted, taking over from the late Richard Hickox.