The Barber of Seville, English National Opera, London Coliseum, February 2013

This witty Jonathan Miller production, under the baton of Jaime Martín who is making his British operatic debut, is full of lively energy. Revival director Peter Relton has produced excellent team work, with exemplary diction, led by that great singing actor Andrew Shore as Dr. Bartolo. He was a hoot, and the whole cast was highly amusing without ever being over the top.

Happy ending, all images ENO/ Scott Rylander

Lucy Crowe made a delightful Rosina, vocally secure with her pretty frills and trills, and Benedict Nelson’s portrayal of Figaro gave a great sense of clever improvisation as he finds a way round all difficulties to assist Count Almaviva win her hand. As Almaviva himself, Andrew Kennedy serenaded Rosina with great vocal warmth, singing strongly in his duet with Figaro, and the entrance to her home as a drunken soldier was amusingly done. The vernacular translation helps as Almaviva quietly verifies his identity to the real soldiers and their commander says, “Back off chaps”.

Bartolo and Rosina

David Soar as Basilio was terrific, and the translation allows him perfect insouciance after his “Calumny” aria when Bartolo proposes a different method of handling things, “As long as I’m paid I couldn’t care tuppence!” During that aria as Basilio sings of his plans rising to a crescendo that will produce explosions, the orchestra entered fully into the spirit of things with wonderful musical bangs. Martín’s conducting was a bundle of joy, and as the sextet from the end of Act I built in intensity there was a huge bounce to the music. Included in the sextet is Katherine Broderick as Bartolo’s maid Berta, who sang very strongly in her bold Act II aria.

Jonathan Miller’s production with its excellent lighting celebrates its 25th year, and is full of wonderful moments — I loved the noisy locking of the door at Bartolo’s house early in Act I. But what really brought this performance to a state of perfection was Andrew Shore’s handling of Bartolo. His long aria (For a doctor of my standing …) in Act I was very wittily delivered, and as he gets increasingly upset and falls down he produces awkward strangulated sounds. Wonderful fun, and in Act II when he nods off during the singing lesson and shows confusion about the place in the music, his brief falsetto was brilliantly done. However many times you have seen Rossini’s Barber go again for this untouchable example of how to perform Bartolo.

Performances continue until March 17 — for details click here.

The Mikado, English National Opera, ENO, London Coliseum, December 2012

The Mikado himself in this fantasia of English eccentricity was gloriously played by Richard Angas, with Robert Murray excellent as Nanki-Poo, and Richard Suart giving a brilliant performance of Ko-Ko in his 25^thanniversary of the role. This vintage production continues to sparkle with bounce and fizz, and is so extraordinarily up to date that Ko-Ko’s little list of Society offenders not only includes the latest scandals, but even mentions George Osborne’s autumn statement, which he only gave on the day of this performance.

The Mikado, all images ENO/ Sarah Lee

Clearly one should keep going to further nights of The Mikado to catch all the clever innuendos that Richard Suart puts into his role as Ko-Ko. I loved the allusion to the Leveson Inquiry, “I’ve put him on my list, in case I’m on his list”; the bit about corporate tax dodgers; and “the Speaker’s wife who’s such a berk and believes in Trial by Twitter”. Bravo! Satire is alive and well at the London Coliseum.

Pooh Bah, Ko-Ko, Pish-Tush

Add to this the glorious choreography and tap dancing, the super performance of Yvonne Howard as Katisha, with the lovely Mary Bevan as Yum-Yum, along with Fiona Canfield and Rachael Lloyd as the other two of the Three Little Maids from School, and you have a performance to charm the eye and delight the ear.

Three Little Maids from School

This Jonathan Miller production with designs by the late Stefanos Lazaridis, whose work was recently seen at Covent Garden in the Ring cycle, shows a white-on-white hotel complete with palms and piano. It’s huge fun, and the costumes by Sue Blane give a great sense of stylised Englishness masquerading as something from the Far East. Well conducted by David Parry with its sense of spontaneity revived by Elaine Tyler-Hall, this has a freshness belying the age of the production.

Yvonne Howard as Katisha

Yvonne Howard sang beautifully in her solo before Ko-Ko enters to propose to her in Act II, and when Richard Angas as the Mikado says, “Till after lunch then — bon appétit!”, I had to laugh out loud. The main characters bring perfection to their performances, spicing the wit of the words by body language and presentation, yet it all appears entirely natural and unrehearsed. This glorious piece of Gilbert and Sullivan is worth revisiting for the clever innuendos alone, even if you have seen it many times before.

Performances continue until January 31 — for details click here.

The Elixir of Love, English National Opera, ENO, London Coliseum, September 2011

A revival of Jonathan Miller’s production of Elixir, set in a diner in small town America, is an excellent way to start the new season.

Andrew Shore and Sarah Tynan, all photos by Tristram Kenton

Miller’s production first appeared in early 2010, and the two stars of those performances returned to give us their best: Sarah Tynan as the saucy, sassy Adina, and Andrew Shore as the charlatan Dr. Dulcamara. They were very well supported on this occasion by Ben Johnson as little Mr. Nobody, Nemorino, and after his singing of Una furtiva lagrima, (or ‘I saw a tear fall silently’ in Kelley Rourke’s updating to the vernacular of 1950s America), the audience burst into sustained applause. They were joined by Rory Macdonald in the orchestra pit, who did a fine job with Donizetti’s score, and vocally and orchestrally this all worked very well.

Andrew Shaw and Ben Johnson

I liked Ms Rourke’s translation — a bit of poetic license doesn’t come amiss, and in Dulcamara’s final aria where he continues to extol the wonders of his bogus medicine she has him singing, ‘And did I forget to mention/ it reduces hypertension’. Of course she had excellent material to work with because Felice Romani’s libretto is very clever. He was a master of the art of libretto writing and there’s a story that he and Donizetti created this opera in two weeks. Certainly the whole thing hangs together beautifully, and sustains adaptations.

Those of us brought up on Wagner may find Romani’s initial cavatina for Adina a bit surprising when she mentions Tristan and Isolde, but this was 1832, before Wagner had completed his first opera (Die Feen in 1833), and it was just one of those ancient tales of true love, inspired in this case by a love potion. It beautifully sets the stage for the credulous Nemorino to buy a bottle of Dulcamara’s patent medicine later in Act I.

In Act II the scene between Nemorino and Sergeant Belcore was very effective. The two young men, Ben Johnson and Benedict Nelson interacted superbly together, and Belcore’s gripping handshake on the deal for Nemorino to join the army was wittily done. With Ella Kirkpatrick singing Giannetta, the whole cast worked superbly as a team, and Jonathan Miller has done a great job of staging this again. Isabella Bywater’s designs let the chorus ladies look their best in those 1950s dresses, and though the setting is just a diner, that little bit of style is just the ticket.

All's well that ends well

Performances continue until October 8 — for details click here.

La Bohème, English National Opera, ENO at the London Coliseum, October 2010

This is the first time I’ve seen Jonathan Miller’s 2009 production, and I was enchanted. The sets and costumes by Isabella Bywater, based on images of Paris from about 1932 by the famous Hungarian photographer, sculptor and filmmaker Brassaï, are wonderful. The roofs stretching into the distance, though merely painted on a side screen, look entirely solid, and I loved the way the set opens out to transform the bohemians’ garret into the café Momus. With superb lighting designed by Jean Kalman, this is a magically authentic production.

Act III photo by Robert Workman

As I felt the energy of the orchestra in the first few bars I sat back to enjoy the musical direction of Stephen Lord, and wasn’t disappointed. After Mimi came on he opened out the music most charmingly, and Mimi herself was the star of the show, gloriously sung by Elizabeth Llewellyn, making her ENO debut. This is a young woman to watch out for, and according to the programme she will sing the Countess in Figaro at Opera Holland Park next summer. I look forward to it. Her Rodolfo was Gwyn Hughes Jones whose noble tenor voice could have used more vulnerability and enthusiasm. Roland Wood was a convincing Marcello, and I loved his duet with Mimi in Act III. His difficult lover, the effervescent Musetta, was strongly sung and performed by Mairead Buicke, though her diction was lost in the vibrato. For those who prefer their La Bohème in Italian, I’m inclined to agree, but I did rather enjoy Amanda Holden’s translation.

The four bohemians interacted well together, and their horseplay in Act IV, before Musetta comes into the apartment to announce Mimi’s fateful entrance, was perfectly done. This production never goes over the top, but it creates fun, emotion and pathos at the right places, and for those who saw it last year, it’s worth revisiting just to hear the young Elizabeth Llewellyn. Further performances are scheduled for: Oct 20, 23, 28, 30; Nov 3, 5, 12, 18, 25; and Jan 22, 25, 27, with Alfie Boe singing Rodolfo in the January performances. For more details click here.

Don Pasquale, Royal Opera, Covent Garden, September 2010

A wealthy older bachelor decides to marry a young wife. What a bad idea — as Chaucer tells us in the Merchant’s Tale, where the young wife gets up to some monkey business in a pear tree. Add to the plot a nephew who wants to marry a woman not of the older man’s choosing, and you have the basis for Ben Johnson’s Silent Woman, a play in which the wealthy fellow will cut his nephew off if he marries his intended. The idea is to trick him into accepting his nephew’s marriage while giving up his own intentions, and that’s the basis for this glorious opera by Donizetti.

Norina and Dr. Malatesta

Its libretto — by Donizetti and Giovanni Ruffini — is based on an earlier text by Angelo Anelli for Stefano Pavesi’s opera Ser Mercantonio, and that in turn was based on Ben Johnson’s play. Don Pasquale is the name of the older man, Ernesto is his nephew, and the trick is that Ernesto’s fiancée — a pretty widow named Norina — is ready to play the part of the demure wife in a fake wedding with Pasquale, and then torment him beyond endurance. All this is cleverly contrived by Pasquale’s ‘friend’ Doctor Malatesta.

Johnson’s play The Silent Woman is also the basis for Richard Strauss’s little-performed opera Die schweigsame Frau, but the Donizetti is much easier to appreciate. It’s wonderful fun, and this Jonathan Miller production is a delight, with charming designs by Isabella Bywater showing us three floors of Don Pasquale’s house, along with tired servants who do his bidding simply because it pays their wages. When Norina moves in as the new, ostensibly demure wife, all sorts of people are hired and pandemonium reigns. Miller has put in some very clever dumb shows, which were brilliantly acted, and Jacques Imbrailo as Pasquale’s friend Doctor Malatesta was particularly good here, as was Bryan Secombe in the small part of the notary — I loved his pointed nose.

Don Pasquale with his 'wife' Norina

Imbrailo’s singing had great strength and charm, and Paolo Gavanelli gave us a boldly acted and well-nuanced portrait of the pig-headed Pasquale, a comic character, but one for whom we could still feel sympathy. Iride Martinez gave us a strongly sung Norina, and Barry Banks was an effete Ernesto with a lovely Rossini tenor voice.

Conducting by Evelino Pido, an excellent replacement for the late Charles Mackerras, gave a thrill to the overture before launching into some lyrical moments, and pacing things very well.

Performances continue until September 21.

Cosi fan tutte, Royal Opera, Covent Garden, September 2010

A theologian friend of mine tells me that when the angels in heaven perform in the presence of God the Father they play Bach, but en famille they play Mozart. And in his opinion this is their favourite opera. It certainly is a remarkable work, with its beautiful symmetry centred on the two poles of reason and natural instinct, represented by Don Alfonso and Despina. I have found it psychologically the most disturbing of Mozart’s operas, but that only goes to show that the music is in fact more powerful than is sometimes recognised.

Thomas Allen as Don Alfonso, Royal Opera photo by Mike Hoban

In this gloriously effective production by Jonathan Miller, with its simple set and modern costumes, Thomas Allen was a suave Don Alfonso, fluent and natural, never going too far, and reminding me of his appearance earlier this year in a similar role as Don Prosdocimo in Il Turco in Italia. His early soliloquy Non son cattivo comico was beautifully done, and even his silences had a charming eloquence. Before the start of the performance he made a speech introducing the new season, and during the overture he and two other men were apparently dining together in a low-level box at the side of the stage, before stepping one by one on to the stage to sing — just one of many nice touches in this production.

The whole cast worked wonderfully well together, with Rebecca Evans as a delightfully coy Despina, along with Maria Bengtsson and Jurgita Adamonyte as Fiordiligi and Dorabella, and Stephane Degout and Pavol Breslik as Guglielmo and Ferrando. The voices were well contrasted, particularly the women, who otherwise looked suitably like sisters, and it would not be easy to put together a better cast. Maria Bengtsson, Jurgita Adamonyte and Pavol Breslik were all singing their roles for the first time at Covent Garden, and the fact that they worked so well together was surely due to Jonathan Miller, who had returned to rehearse this revival. It is perhaps awkward to single out anyone, but Maria Bengtsson was quite extraordinary as Fiordiligi, her voice so clear and strong, and her Per pieta in Act II a masterpiece. This is I suppose what the angels might sound like if they perform this opera in the great beyond.

Stephane Degout, Maria Bengtsson, Jurgita Adamonyte and Pavol Bresnik, photo by Mike Hoban

Thomas Hengelbrock, making his Covent Garden debut in the orchestra pit, deserves to feel very satisfied. His support for the singers was always sure and the orchestra played with an admirably light touch. Altogether this is a wonderful Cosi, and I’m delighted to have seen this new cast.

Performances continue until September 24.

The Elixir of Love, English National Opera, ENO at the London Coliseum, February 2010

Andrew Shore as Dulcamara and Sarah Tynan as Adina. Photo by Tristram Kenton

This Donizetti opera with its wonderful libretto by Felice Romani, doyen of the Italian librettists of his day, is always a treat. Having seen it so many times in productions set in 19^th century Italy, I’ve sometimes wondered what the original would have felt like in 1832, in what would have been the rather limited rural society of the day. This new Jonathan Miller production — imported from the New York City Opera — shows us, by placing the action in 1950s America. The programme claims it’s the American Midwest, the notes that I read say the American Southwest, and the car driven by Dulcamara has a Texas number plate — take your pick. Wherever it is, it works well, with designs by Isabella Bywater and lighting by Hans-Åke Sjöquist.

Having the libretto in English may disappoint some who love the Italian, but this adaptation by Kelley Rourke is very effective. When the beautiful young Adina, looking like Marilyn Monroe and running a diner, sings “Oh, Tristan conquering hero come take me as your bride”, we need no surtitles, and we know that here is no simple country girl. Her comment brings the idea of a love potion into focus even before Dulcamara and his bogus medicines have been seen or heard of. When he drives up in his smart and slightly dusty open top car, the small community centred on Adina’s Diner is agog, and at a dollar a bottle his cure-all is quickly snapped up.

Andrew Shore as Dulcamara did a fine job of presenting this charlatan as a man with panache — not a clown, but a fellow who would not be out of place in an auction house. And with Sarah Tynan singing beautifully as a charmingly shrewd Adina, we had two smart characters, contrasting well with the slower wits of Nemorino and Sergeant Belcore, both of whom want to marry her. Although she finds Belcore attractive, Nemorino just needs a bit of confidence in order to win his girl, and Dulcamara’s bogus love potion gives it him. There is, admittedly, his wealthy uncle in the background, whom Adina is perfectly well aware of, but she likes him for himself, and eventually gets the best of both his desire and his money. John Tessier portrayed Nemorino convincingly well, going from an abject lack of self-confidence to supreme certainty that Adina will fall for him, and David Kempster played Belcore without the exaggerated swagger one sometimes sees.

Musically this was wonderful, with the young conductor Pablo Heras-Casado, still in his early thirties, making Donizetti’s composition ring with joy and energy. The singing of Sarah Tynan was particularly good, and very well supported by Andrew Shore’s Dulcamara and John Tessier’s Nemorino. This performance was a delight to listen to, but even more of a delight to experience on stage.

Rigoletto, ENO, English National Opera, September 2009

This Jonathan Miller production, revived many times in the past 27 years, sets the action in a Mafia crime family of the 1950s. It’s an interesting take on a story whose origin is Victor Hugo’s play Le roi s’amuse. Written in 1832 in the heady aftermath of the 1830 revolution that brought Louis-Philippe to power as the ‘citizen king’ of France, the title of the original play and its attitude to royalty were unacceptable in other parts of Europe. Kings do not ‘amuse themselves’ in this way and it was immediately banned elsewhere. When Verdi came to write his opera, in the years following the 1848 revolutions across Europe, he replaced the king by the Duke of Mantua but the censors still had concerns, not only about the portrayal of the ‘king’ but also the hunchbacked jester whose outward appearance reflected his corrupt nature and nasty streak while he remained a devoted father to his daughter Gilda. The concept of hedonistic, anti-social autocrats and their supporters was a far cry from the Western ideals of governance, but is not a million miles from crime syndicates that command murders when it suits them, yet treat their own with care and concern. With this in mind, Jonathan Miller’s production makes great sense, and the designs by Patrick Robertson and Rosemary Vercoe, with clever lighting originally designed by Robert Bryan, give an air of authenticity to the drama.

The jester, named Triboulet in Hugo’s play, becomes Rigoletto in the opera, and is one of Verdi’s great creations, sung here by Anthony Michaels-Moore, who played him with enormous sensitivity. His sneeringly lugubrious stage presence and lyrical singing gave just the right sense of conflict to this Lear-like character, and with Katherine White portraying Gilda’s vulnerability so well, these two became the centre point of the opera. The ‘duke’ was strongly sung and acted by the young Michael Fabiano, one of the six winners in the recent Metropolitan Opera competition, who seems to have just the right devil-may-care attitude for the ‘duke’. The cast balanced one another well, particularly with Brindley Sherratt as a darkly sinister Sparafucile, whose bass voice oozed menacing integrity — I was reminded of his excellent performance as Pimen in Boris Godunov last November. His sister Maddalena was also well sung and portrayed by Madeleine Shaw, but the lacklustre conducting of Stephen Lord was a disappointment. He seemed to have good control of the orchestra, and raised the tempo at significant points, but I didn’t feel the music breathed with the vitality of the plot.

In a recent BBC Radio interview, Jonathan Miller inveighed against the ‘concepts’ that some German directors bring to their opera productions. I agreed instantly, but the concept of a ‘concept’ is not well-defined, and I’d prefer to think of the opera itself inhabiting a domain, which each production represents in its own way. That Miller’s production of Rigoletto has lasted 27 years in the repertory of the ENO is evidence that its representation is a great success. What goes wrong with some German productions — and the Meistersinger and Tristan I saw recently in Bayreuth are cases in point — is that rather than represent the domain in which the opera lives, they transport it to a box that insulates it from all or part of its natural domain. Jonathan Miller doesn’t do this — he stays true to the original, giving us a way to understand and appreciate it.