The Minotaur, Royal Opera, Covent Garden, January 2013

The opening night of this revival ended with a tribute to John Tomlinson for 35 years of wonderful service to the ROH — highly appropriate since composer Harrison Birtwistle has said Tomlinson was the key to writing this opera, which had been brewing in his mind for many years.

The Innocents arrive, all images ROH/ Bill Cooper

The first scene shows Christine Rice as Ariadne on the beach with a heaving sea projected on the backdrop, and the opera ends with Elisabeth Meister’s bloodcurdling scream as the Ker, seeing the Minotaur dead and her share of future victims vanish. In the meantime Ariadne has revealed that as the daughter of Minos and his wife Pasiphae, whom Theseus calls “whore to the bull of the sea”, she is half-sister to the Minotaur, whom Theseus has come to kill him so as to save future Athenian innocents from further death. She tricks him into letting the present twelve go first, and Act I ends with their massacre. Susana Gaspar as the first innocent was particularly good here, lying in wounded agony before the winged Keres come to pluck out her heart.

In the second act Johan Reuter as Theseus reveals that he may be the son of Poseidon, and if Poseidon was indeed the bull of the sea then he is half-brother to the Minotaur. The important dichotomy between Theseus and Ariadne however, is that while he wants to get into the labyrinth, she wants to get out of Crete. Needing to bring him back from the centre she consults the oracle at Psychro, who gives her the ball of twine despite her lying about her true intentions, and after making Theseus promise to accompany her away from the island the stage is now set for the final denouément.

The Minotaur

Birtwistle’s opera, with this clever production by Stephen Langridge, designs by Alison Chitty and lighting by Paul Pyant, works wonders with the story and with the Minotaur himself, shown to be both man and beast. Presaging his first appearance a wall of sound is followed by two tubas in unison, along with contrabass clarinet and contrabass bassoon. The music is fascinating, its permanent state of melody a metaphor for the labyrinth. And David Harsent’s libretto is a masterpiece of concision and clarity drawing us through the story.

The duality between man and beast is cleverly expressed through lines such as, “When I go to sleep does the man sleep first, when I awake does the beast wake first?” The Minotaur speaks only in his dreams, and when he dreams he sees himself, he sees Ariadne, he even sees Theseus, appearing through a mirror with him. He thinks of his life, his failings, his sorrows, in each case calling them “all too human”. When Theseus arrives he recognises him from the dream, and reflects on his predicament of being both man and beast. “The beast is vile, so the man must go unloved. The beast can’t weep, so the man must go dry-eyed. The beast is wounded, so the man must die”. We begin to understand the man-beast, hidden away in the labyrinth as a child. It’s a great opera, the only surprise being that it has yet to be produced anywhere else since first appearing at the ROH in April 2008.

Tomlinson, Johan Reuter, and Christine Rice repeated their wonderful performances from five years ago, and Elisabeth Meister sang an excellent Ker, with Andrew Watts and Alan Oke taking over the roles of snake priestess and her medium Hiereus. The priestess herself rises to a great height, looking like those famous chthonic deities from Knossos, a nice touch.

The lyrical wonder of Birtwistle’s music, combined with lines of sheer terror, was brilliantly conducted by Ryan Wigglesworth on this occasion, and if you went in 2008, go again, particularly with tickets at such low prices for this thrillingly deep opera.

Performances continue until January 28 — for details click here.

Götterdämmerung, Royal Opera, Covent Garden, September 2012

Under Antonio Pappano’s direction the orchestra gave us a lyrical and multi-layered interpretation of Wagner’s score, ranging from soft moments to huge power.

Norns, all images ROH/ Clive Barda

After the prologue with the Norns, followed by Brünnhilde and Siegfried, things really opened out in Act I with John Tomlinson as Hagen in the hall of the Gibichungs. He was riveting as he explains to his half brother and sister, Gunther and Gutrune, how they might win fabulous partners. Too fabulous of course, but they are easily fooled by this son of Alberich, who then gave a superb monologue as he sits to keep watch, ending deeply and darkly with des Niebelungen Sohn (the Niebelung’s son). Dimly lit, he remains sitting for the rest of the act as Brünnhilde is first visited by Waltraute and then by Siegfried’s transformation as Gunther.

Mihoko Fujimura as Waltraute showed wonderful stage presence and diction along with huge strength and purity of tone, outshining the uncertain stage presence and excessive vibrato of Susan Bullock’s Brünnhilde. She rose effortlessly over the orchestra, ending with a wonderfully defiant Walhalls Göttern weh! (Woe to the gods of Valhalla).

Brünnhilde with the Gibichungs

In Act II, Tomlinson as Hagen steals the show, quietly of course at first when he is addressed by his father Alberich, very assertively sung by Wolfgang Koch in a little boat in the air, like a one-eyed, heavy-set version of the Mekon. As the Gibichung scenes follow, with Stefan Vinke as a boldly ingenuous Siegfried, Peter Coleman-Wright as a grandiosely weak Gunther, and Rachel Willis-Sørensen as a very strongly sung Gutrune, Tomlinson once again became the focus with a powerful call to the vassals. After Brünnhilde arrives his gaze follows her, and when he persuades her and Gunther that the only solution is Siegfried’s death, his voice took on extraordinary colour.

In Act III Stefan Vinke as Siegfried has just the right tone and bolshy attitude when meeting the Rheinmaidens, and when the hunters arrive he gives a fine account of his earlier life, urged on by Hagen. Hagen’s murder of Siegfried and subsequent attempt to grab the ring from him was very effective, and the orchestra then swept us forward with a superb funeral march. Weakness only occurs later at the hall of the Gibichungs where instead of Brünnhilde dominating Gutrune, Rachel Willis-Sørensen had the more powerful stage presence, though after feebly raising an arm just before Starke Scheite, Susan Bullock as Brünnhilde sang strongly at the end.

The final scene of Keith Warner’s production has Hagen taking the ring from Brünnhilde only to be overwhelmed by the Rheinmaidens. Images of the gods are suspended over fires, and young people come onto stage as if representing a new world order, but I would prefer the music without too much imagery. All in all, however, a memorable Ring cycle under Pappano’s musical direction, and a nice touch at the end was the entire orchestra appearing on stage for the curtain calls.

There are three further Ring cycles, the final Götterdämmerung being on November 2 — for details click here. There will also be a live broadcast on Radio 3 on Wednesday, October 24 at 3:45 pm, and Christmas broadcasts of Acts I, II and III on January 2, 3 and 4 at 4:30 pm.

Die Walküre, Royal Opera, Covent Garden, September 2012

A pivotal point in Wagner’s Ring is Act II scene 1 in Walküre where Fricka faces her husband Wotan. A strong presence is vital here and Sarah Connolly gave a superb portrayal, avoiding the danger of playing her as overbearing but firmly and gently persuading her husband that he is in serious error. It was beautifully done, and she kisses him before he asks Was verlangst du? Her demand that he abandon the Wälsung finally succeeds, and as the scene ends, Bryn Terfel’s Nimm den Eid (Take my oath) was sung with a gravelly resignation.

Valkyries, all images ROH/ Clive Barda

His representation of Wotan is more mature than during initial performances of this Keith Warner production seven or eight years ago, and he ranged from gentleness to fury with great conviction. In talking to Brünnhilde in Act II scene 2 he showed serious introspection as he sings of giving up his work and longing only for das Ende! Recalling the words of Erda that allude to Hagen’s birth signalling the end of the gods, moves him to real anger, and his In meinem Busen berg’ ich den Grimm (In my heart I hide the fury) was delivered with huge effect. The orchestral ending of that scene under Pappano’s direction was superb.

As Brünnhilde, Susan Bullock started rather nervously after the misfortune of needing help from a stagehand to detach her harness, but for a performer to make her first entrance down a forty-foot ladder is surely a bit of an ordeal. She warmed up later, and at the start of Act III scene 3 her War es so schmählich (Was it so shameful), delivered initially without orchestral accompaniment, was beautifully sung.

Siegmund and Sieglinde

The final ending was an orchestral triumph, and so was the beginning with Pappano delivering a feisty prelude including wonderful thunder from the kettledrum after Siegmund enters, and beautiful playing from the solo cello. When John Tomlinson later enters as Hunding, driving his axe into the table, the drama moves into top gear and his initial Du labtest ihn? was unusually powerful. Followed by his Heilig ist mein Herd (Holy is my hearth), including a brief handshake with Siegmund, it became quite clear who was master here. A hugely commanding portrayal, only rivalled by La Scala’s new production in December 2010 with — wait for it — Tomlinson again. Yet in Act II after facing Siegmund with Wotan taking a hand, he suddenly shows uncertainty and fear, and rightly so as Wotan drives his spear into him, having done the same to Siegmund.

Valkyries and Terfel as Wotan

As Siegmund himself, Simon O’Neill gave a moving performance, singing with huge conviction and animation, and with fine chemistry between him and Eva-Maria Westbroek as Sieglinde. Faced later with Brünnhilde in Act II his So grüsse mir Walhall (Then greet Valhalla for me) was simply riveting. When Sieglinde awakes, the stage is suffused with new energy, and in Act III her emotional O hehrstes Wunder! Herrlichste Maid! was beautifully delivered, with a lovely ringing quality to her top notes.

Altogether a super Walküre, grounded by Bryn Terfel’s brilliant performance as Wotan. We shall miss him in the final opera, but his reappearance as the Wanderer in Siegfried on Saturday is eagerly anticipated.

There are four Ring cycles, the final Walküre being on October 28 — for details click here. There will also be a live broadcast on Radio 3 on October 18 at 4:45 pm, and Christmas broadcasts of Acts I, II and III on December 25, 26 and 27 at 4:30 pm.

Der Rosenkavalier, English National Opera, ENO, London Coliseum, January 2012

For those who love this Strauss/Hofmannsthal collaboration, the programme booklet contains an interesting essay by Mike Reynolds, describing the vital contributions by Hofmannsthal’s collaborator, Count Harry Kessler. This well-connected and talented man, who was brought up in France, England and Germany, chose the plot and had a huge influence on its structure and realisation. The result inspired Strauss to create one of the most glorious operas ever written, and in Ronald Harwoood’s play Collaboration when the 80-year old Strauss is faced by allied soldiers at his house in 1945, he says, “I am Richard Strauss, the composer of Rosenkavalier“.

The silver rose in Act II, all images by Clive Barda

Tomlinson and Connolly in Act I

Such a fabulous opera deserves performances of the highest calibre, and we had some here at the ENO. John Tomlinson is perhaps the finest Baron Ochs I have ever seen, giving this dreadful character a boorish aplomb that never goes over the top, and his diction, as ever, renders surtitles superfluous. He finds his match in the Octavian of Sarah Connolly, who invests this travesti role with youthful rambunctiousness, and sings with glorious power.  And then there is the Sophie of Sophie Bevan, who after a nervous start in Act II sang with quiet charm, floating her high notes above the confusion created by Ochs. Her meek responses to the Marschallin in Act III were enunciated with a tension that will remain with me as a template for all future performances of this opera. The Marschallin herself was Amanda Roocroft, a singer I have admired greatly as E.M. in Makropulos,  as Ellen Orford in Peter Grimes, and more recently as Eva in Meistersinger, but she has yet to inhabit the present role. I liked the wistfulness she showed in Act I after Octavian has left and she suddenly realises her little joke may kill their amours, and again in Act III her acceptance that the affair with Octavian is now over, but her portrayal needed more gravitas, and her appearance to quieten the confusion in Act III, which can be a high point of the opera, fell rather flat.

Amanda Roocroft in Act I

Musically the performance flowed with great charm under the baton of Edward Gardner, who gave fine support to the singers and produced magnificent climaxes from the orchestra at suitable moments, such as after Octavian leaves in Act I, and in the final Act.

The supporting roles were performed with great panache, the scheming Valzacchi and Annina well portrayed by Adrian Thompson and Madeleine Shaw, who whirled elegantly to the waltz time of the music as she handed the letter to Ochs towards the end of Act II. Marianne Leitmetzerin had great stage presence as Sophie’s duenna, prodding her charge with a fan to keep her on track in the conversation with Octavian, and Gwyn Hughes Jones was super as the Italian singer at the Marschallin’s levée in Act I. As Sophie’s father Faninal, Andrew Shore bristled with restrained emotion, and as he walked over to embrace his daughter towards the end of Act III he invested the moment with heartfelt reality.

Tomlinson and Connolly in Act III

This is a revival of David McVicar’s 2008 production, which comes from Scottish Opera, and I’m afraid I have reservations. Could someone please tell the supers not to run round pointing rifles at Ochs in Act III — this is the Austro-Hungarian empire, not the wild west — and Faninal offers Ochs a very old tokai, not a brandy. Tokai is a lovely sweet wine from Hungary, low in alcohol, just right for that time of day. Why can’t Alfred Kalisch, the translator keep with the original? And while on the topic why does he introduce claret when Ochs lies wounded on the couch? The text says nothing of claret, and in any case it was not served in a claret bottle.

These irritations aside, the scene for the presentation of the silver rose with Octavian in silver armour had a fairy-tale charm, and the musical quality of the performance makes this a must-see, particularly with the glorious representations of Ochs and Octavian by Tomlinson and Connolly.

Wonderful stuff, but be aware that performances, which continue until February 27, start at 6:30, or 5:30 on Saturdays — for details click here.

Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg, Royal Opera, Covent Garden, December 2011

This was Antonio Pappano’s first Meistersinger for the Royal Opera, and from the start of the overture to the final chords of Act III, more than five hours later, his peerless conducting drove Wagner’s comedy forward with huge effect. The chorus too was excellent, from the first four-part harmony in the church to their final embrace of Sachs and Walther on the meadows by the river Pegnitz.

Wolfgang Koch as Sachs, Emma Bell as Eva, Simon O'Neill as Walther, all images Clive Barda

Among the principal singers, some could hardly have been better. John Tomlinson was the best Pogner I ever remember seeing. This man, who is happy to give up his daughter as bride to the winner of a song contest, can sometimes appear a bit pompous, but Tomlinson’s delivery of Pogner’s Act I monologue was hugely powerful. This is where he extols the art-loving German burgher, frequently misrepresented abroad as caring for nought but money. It’s a key moment and so often comes over too weakly. Tomlinson’s characterisation of the role was so strong that the revival director even had him pushing Sachs around towards the end of Act III, urging him to embrace Eva and Walther. Add to that the excellent portrayal of Kothner, the head of the guild, by the ever reliable Donald Maxwell, and you only wish everyone on stage fitted their roles this well.

Toby Spence as David with the apprentices

Some did, and Toby Spence was an enormously likeable David, whose Act I explanation to Walther of what makes a mastersinger, along with the extraordinary list of tones he delivers, was riveting. Here is surely a future Walther. His fiancée Magdalena was very well portrayed by Heather Shipp, who seems to make a speciality of these awkward supporting roles, and Eva was well sung by Emma Bell, who showed angst and joy in equal measure. Her adored Walther, with whom she is willing to elope and defy her beloved father, was Simon O’Neill, whose voice I found too heldentenorish for the role, though he certainly delivered Walther’s various songs with great power. I only wish the costume department could have provided him with a better white outfit for Act III — cloaked for his delivery of the prize song it was better, but those shoulder wings … I know it’s Christmas, but this is not pantomime. Beckmesser’s black costume was much better, and his role was finely sung by Peter Coleman-Wright, though several comic moments were noticeable by their absence, perhaps due to a lack of stage direction. However the fight scene after he has attempted to serenade Eva at her window is cleverly staged, as is the appearance of the Nightwatchman, strongly sung by Robert Lloyd.

Emma Bell as Eva with John Tomlinson as her father Pogner

And then there is the main character, Hans Sachs, sung by Wolfgang Koch, who has performed the same role in Frankfurt (2006) and Vienna (2008). In Act I he came over less strongly than either Pogner or Kothner, and I found the Flieder monologue of Act II disappointing. Of course it’s a huge role and he must reserve himself for Act III, where his response to the crowd in the final scene and his final speech, Verachtet mir die Meister nicht (Don’t despise the masters) to Walther and the assembled company, came over well. But earlier in Act III, the Wahn monologue in the first scene and the later response to Walther’s question on what makes the difference between a beautiful song and a master song, were delivered in a matter-of-fact way as if they were academic lectures. With the Wahn monologue I felt I was listening to a defence of the Euro by a male version of Angela Merkel. Koch has a lovely tone to his voice, but I missed the repressed emotion of these important soliloquys, and the unrestrained emotion when he threw a chair across the room, just before Eva sings O Sachs! Mein Freund! was by contrast quite over top, though that would be due to revival director Elaine Kidd.

This production by Graham Vick is immensely colourful and I loved the lighting design by Wolfgang Göbbel. The blue light shining on the front curtain for the prelude to Act III, the light coming into Sachs’s study through the windows, casting shadows as people moved in front of them — it was all very carefully thought out. With a raked stage in Act III the view from the Amphitheatre was as if one were looking down on the proceedings, which was good, but I would have preferred some images of the river and meadow, rather than plain sides and a wooden floor.

But this was a musical triumph brought to fruition by Pappano, the orchestra, the chorus, and some superb singing.

The New Year’s Day performance of this opera will be broadcast live on BBC Radio 3 from 14:45, and performances at the Royal Opera House continue until January 8 — for details click here.

Parsifal, English National Opera, ENO, London Coliseum, February 2011

Easter comes late this year but Parsifal is early, and stepping into the warmth of the London Coliseum from a washed-out winter’s day was a treat. As the first bars came out of the orchestra, Mark Wigglesworth’s conducting showed the clarity and quality Wagner’s music demands, and sent tingles down my spine.

Gurnemanz and knights, early Act I, all photos by Richard Hubert Smith

Act I opens to a scene like something from ancient history. This was the Sumerian KUR, the distant land of the dead, where all is clay. The knights of the Grail are grey in costume and skin, as if made of clay, and into this ancient land beyond the normal world I almost expected the Sumerian goddess Inanna to come breezing in, as she does in the saga of Inanna’s Descent. But it was Kundry who arrived — the only splash of colour in this wasteland, until Parsifal himself enters.

Journey to the Grail in Act I

When Gurnemanz decides that perhaps this young man, who can’t even remember his own name, is the chosen fool who will bring redemption, he takes him to the ceremony of the Grail. Here Parsifal and Gurnemanz are beautifully lit, swaying side by side as if walking, while Parsifal marvels at how swiftly he moves though scarcely taking a step. I love Gurnemanz’s reply, “Du siehst mein Sohn, zum Raum wird hier die Zeit” (You see my son here space turns into time). It was rendered here, as in other translations, by “You see my son here space and time are one”, though Wagner produced this opera in 1882, before the theory of relativity. However, I liked the translation by Richard Stokes, and John Tomlinson sang Gurnemanz with such wonderful diction that the surtitles were superfluous.

In fact all the singing was clear, and when Stuart Skelton as Parsifal sang the word spear in Act III he gave it a tremendous power and lyricism, turning the simple fool of Act I into a truly heroic tenor. Iain Paterson gave Amfortas real heft, both vocally and physically, and Andrew Greenan gave a rich bass tone to Amfortas’s father Titurel in Act I. Both the first and third acts were superb, though Act II suffered slightly by comparison, with Tom Fox as Klingsor and Jane Dutton as Kundry. But the real heroes in this performance were John Tomlinson, and Mark Wigglesworth with the orchestra. I don’t know how Tomlinson does it, but his rendering of Gurnemanz was so gripping that he made the long monologues seem short.

Amfortas with the body of Titurel in Act III

Of course Nikolaus Lehnhoff’s production helps enormously. As that huge boulder rotates during the walk to the Grail in Act I it reveals a bluish light from behind, giving a cosmic feel to the movement of Gurnemanz and Parsifal. And when Parsifal acquires the spear in Act II and uses it to strike the ground, he brings demolition to Klingsor’s magic realm. Then in Act III there is a wonderful moment as Amfortas reaches into the pit inhabited by figures of clay, and drags out the body of his father. This is just before Stuart Skelton’s gloriously sung Parsifal mentions the spear, cutting through the death-like immobility of the knights. Only Parsifal, Gurnemanz, and perhaps Kundry, show any sympathy with Amfortas, and when Kundry and Parsifal walk off, beautifully lit, into the distance they have created the redemption that ends Wagner’s final opera.

The audience reaction was thunderous applause, and in case the ENO do not revive this production again, it’s well worth the price of a ticket, and train ticket if you live outside London. Performances continue until March 12 — for more details click here.

Die Walküre, La Scala, Milan, December 2010

The mighty cathedral in Milan — the third largest in Europe after Seville and Rome — contains vast columns reaching up to an immense height. Nearby is La Scala with its four tiers of boxes ascending to two further tiers of row-seats, and during the final curtain calls the performers looked heavenwards to right and left, relishing the applause from the gods, while Daniel Barenboim, who conducted a magnificent Walküre, waved to the rafters.

Brünnhilde and Valkyries, La Scala photos, Brescia and Amisano

What a performance it was, in a new production by Guy Cassiers, with simple abstract sets by Enrico Bagnoli, and clever video projections by Arjen Klerkx and Kurt d’Haeseleer. La Scala has seen its share of Verdi operas with their powerful family relationships, but Wotan and his daughter Brünnhilde in Wagner’s Die Walküre is the equal of anything in Verdi, and here we had a young and glorious Brünnhilde in Nina Stemme. In the final scene, embraced by her father, with warm reddish light falling on her bare shoulders, she was the perfect sleeping beauty to be surrounded by fire until woken by a mighty hero in the next opera of The Ring.

That hero has yet to be born, but at the end of Act II, Brünnhilde drags his mother Sieglinde — magnificently sung by Waltraud Meier — away from the fatally wounded body of her lover and brother Siegmund, powerfully sung here by Simon O’Neill. After they leave, Sieglinde’s abandoned husband Hunding thrusts his sword deep into Siegmund’s dying body. This is too much for Vitalij Kowaljow’s sympathetic Wotan, father to Siegmund and Sieglinde, and with the emphasis on the second Geh! he sweeps a hand sideways, and Hunding falls dead. But what a Hunding this was, with his rich dark tone — the best I have ever seen — sung by Britain’s very own John Tomlinson. Wotan, of course, threw the battle to Hunding after his wife Fricka demanded it. She was strongly sung by Ekaterina Gubanova, and after his argument with her, his declamation “In eigner Fessel fing ich mich, die unfreiester aller!” (In my own bonds I’m trapped, the least free of everyone!) was strongly delivered with perfect diction.

John Tomlinson as Hunding

The appearance of the nine Valkyries at the start of Act III, in voluminous black dresses by Tim Van Steenbergen, was very effective. At this point, Sieglinde yearns only for death, but suddenly comes to life after Brünnhilde foretells her pregnancy. Her “Rette mich Kühne! Rette mein Kind!” (Rescue me, brave one! Rescue my child!) filled the auditorium, and her final “O herhstes Wunder! Heiligste Maid!” sailed over the orchestra and up to gods.

This was more than a miracle, it was opera magic, and at the end of the final act as red lighting bespoke the fire that would encircle Brünnhilde, an asymmetrical collection of twenty-eight red lights — a mathematically perfect number — descended from above. All praise to the production team and singers, but to no one more so than Barenboim, whose nuanced conducting brought out the full depth and passion of Wagner’s music.

For a more concise version of this review see the Daily Telegraph on 24^thDecember.

The Gambler, Royal Opera, February 2010

Royal Opera photo: Clive Barda

This is a cold story of intrigue, and obsessive gambling at the roulette tables. In the last two productions I’ve seen, in Chicago and St. Petersburg, the stage has been darkly lit, in keeping with the coldness and scheming inherent in the story, but this production by Richard Jones, with set designs by Antony McDonald and costumes by Nicky Gillibrand, is quite different. It is bright and colourful, starting with a scene in a zoo where well-dressed visitors look into the cages, which are presumably metaphors for the fact that the characters are trapped by their determination to acquire money or love that is cruelly taken away from them.

The story is based on a novel by Dostoevsky, and the main character is a young man named Alexey, tutor to the family of an impecunious general, who expects great things from his wealthy aunt Babulenka. Alexey is in love with the general’s ward Paulina, and gambles on her behalf. At first he loses badly but later he wins big-time, yet she has been having an affair with a marquis and coldly leaves him. In the meantime, Babulenka, who is supposed to be near death’s door, turns up unexpectedly at the gambling spa, and gaily gambles away all her money. The general goes crazy, and loses his demimonde lover Blanche.

John Tomlinson was superb as the general, Angela Denoke excellent as Paulina, and Susan Bickley gave a brilliant performance as Babulenka. Roberto Sacca was convincingly impetuous as Alexey, Kurt Streit cool and imposing as the marquis, and Jurgita Adamonyte suitably flashy and vapid as Blanche. The singers — and there is a huge cast — all did well, but the applause was muted. It’s not a popular opera and this production never quite brought it to life — we never really felt sympathy for any of the characters. Perhaps that was the idea, but I find it hard to drum up much enthusiasm for things that are very cold in very bright surroundings. The other two productions I have seen were more effective in their sombre tones and lack of the extraneous devices that we had here.

Antonio Pappano conducted Prokofiev’s music well, and as music director he presumably wanted to take on this project. I support the Royal Opera’s decision to put this on, but there are plenty more Russian operas worth doing that would be more exciting and satisfying — Tchaikovsky’s Mazeppa for instance, or a revival of Prokofiev’s Fiery Angel. Let us hope they have plans for such things.

Tristan und Isolde, Royal Opera, October 2009

This was the second night of Christof Loy’s new production for the Royal Opera, and I found it worked very well. The orchestra performed with distinction under Antonio Pappano, and the Opera House had put together a superb cast, led by Nina Stemme as Isolde. She was terrific throughout, and in the Liebestod she rose effortlessly above the orchestra — it was a wonderful performance. Tristan was Ben Heppner, whom I once saw give a marvellous rendering of the same role at the Lyric Opera in Chicago, but here unfortunately he had trouble with his voice at some moments in Acts II and III. But he sang strongly, and his interaction with Michael Volle as Kurwenal in Act III was very powerful. Volle was superb, and as good a Kurwenal as I’ve ever seen. This was hardly surprising, given his excellent portrayal of Dr. Schön in Lulu this past summer, and his wonderful performance of John the Baptist in Salome in February 2008. Sophie Koch as Brangäne sang beautifully, and John Tomlinson’s King Marke was a peerless example of how well this part can be performed — his stage presence was riveting, as always, and we are lucky he was able to take over from Matti Salminen who will now appear only in the last three performances.

The fairly minimal designs by Johannes Leiacker, and lighting by Olaf Winter, featured dining tables and chairs at the rear of the stage, occasionally occupied by King Marke’s men in their black dinner jackets — Marke himself wore a white one. A dark heavy curtain in front of the tables was sometimes open, sometimes closed, and sometimes moved to reveal the diners in a freeze, and then to reveal empty tables. None of this got in the way of the singing though, and I found Loy’s direction very good, particularly in the interactions between Isolde and Brangäne, and between Tristan and Kurwenal. There was no comparison to the frightful Bayreuth production I saw this summer, and the singers here were far better too, particularly Nina Stemme who completely outclassed Iréne Theorin at Bayreuth.

On this second night of the production, the Opera House management had clearly realised that almost all the action was invisible from the left hand edge of the auditorium. The Balcony boxes and side seats were entirely empty at the start, though they later filled with people from similar positions higher up in the Amphi. The inattention to sight-lines is a failing of Christof Loy, who did a similar thing with some extreme stage-right action in Lulu, and the House management should have been on the case far earlier. First-night critics who couldn’t understand the booing should take note. From their fine seats it behoves them not to be rude, as one or two were, about the intelligence of audience members in less exalted seats who simply couldn’t see most of the action.

Don Carlo, Royal Opera, September 2009

Imagine a Christian Taliban in Spain, putting men, women and children in Flanders — all heretics — to the sword. Add to this the Spanish King Philip II taking as his new wife the French princess betrothed to, and loved by, his son Don Carlos, and you have the background to Schiller’s drama, made into such a wonderful opera by Verdi. Thankfully this was the original five act version, where Act I shows Carlo and Elizabeth de Valois meeting and realising they are in love with one another, before she is purloined by the king.

The performance at the dress rehearsal was absolutely terrific, and Semyon Bychkov as conductor gave the music a dramatic intensity I’ve never heard equalled. Of course the singers helped enormously, and this was a dream cast. Jonas Kaufmann as Carlo, and Marina Poplavskaya as Elizabeth, sang and acted their parts to perfection, and with Simon Keenlyside as Carlo’s friend Rodrigo, the Marquis of Posa, and Ferruccio Furlanetto as Philip II we could not ask for better — they were wonderful! Philip II’s soliloquy at the start of Act IV was brilliantly done, and John Tomlinson in the relatively small part of the Grand Inquisitor was absolutely riveting with his commanding presence and sightless eyes. As Princess Eboli we had Marianne Cornetti, who sang beautifully, but why is it that Eboli always seems to be dumpy and frumpy, when in real life she was considered one of the most attractive women in Spain. I rarely comment on the chorus, but they were superb, and the actors also did a fine job. In the auto da fé scene I particularly liked the spoken demands to the heretics that they pray forgiveness and embrace the true faith before being burned to death — this was surely an innovation since the original production by Nicholas Hytner last year.

That wonderful production, which I wrote about in my blog of June 2008, has a raw power that suits sixteenth century Spain, and shows the burning of the heretics, suddenly lit behind a screen. It portrays the king as an old man, but that is partly due to Schiller and Verdi — in fact he was still in his late thirties, but why let history spoil a good story? I love the way the depth of the stage at Covent Garden is used to give a feeling of space and power, and my only quibble is right at the very end. The ghost of Charles V appeared in human form looking simply like another character in the plot, rather than a spirit materialising from the darkness, and the magical intensity of the scene was suddenly lost.