Francesca da Rimini, Metropolitan Opera live cinema relay, 17 March 2013

Seeing this opera for the second time in less than three year convinced me that it fills a much-needed gap in the repertoire. Clearly the cuts in London made by Opera Holland Park in 2010 were well judged. But if you’re one of the singers or the conductor or a member of the orchestra it must be hugely enjoyable to perform.

All images MetOpera/ Marty Sohl

Zandonai’s rich orchestration provides powerful moments, but also some tiresomely melodramatic music for action of a lighter vein. Act I was full of this, with extended passages for Francesca’s ladies in waiting. But full marks to the Met for reviving and screening Piero Faggioni’s beautifully artistic production from 1984 with its glorious costumes, nineteenth century impressionistic backdrop, and art nouveau concept of what the fourteenth century should look like. Ezio Frigerio’s sets, Franca Squarciapino’s costumes, Gil Wechsler’s lighting, and Donald Mahler’s elegantly subdued choreography all worked well, and cinema direction by Gary Halvorson was excellent.

A Rosenkavalier moment

The star role is Francesca, sung here by Eva-Maria Westbroek who remarked in the intermission that this sort of story is still going on in the world today. She is quite right. A girl is married to a man she doesn’t love, while being in love with someone else. She arranges clandestine meetings with her lover, and the family kills the two of them. Francesca is in love with the fair Paolo, whom she once believed was to be her husband. In fact it’s his malformed brother, Gianciotto, and the insane jealousy of the third brother, Maletestino brings a denouément in which Gianciotto kills both his wife Francesca and his brother Paolo.

Smaragdi and Francesca

As Paolo, Marcello Giordani evidently relished the role from a poetic point of view, according to his intermission interview, but in Act I he sounded strained on the high notes, though he warmed up considerably in Act II. Eva-Maria Westbroek as Francesca sang and acted with dramatic power, but lacked a more nuanced portrayal that might suggest character development. It was perhaps easier for Mark Delavan and Robert Brubaker as the more one-dimensional characters Gianciotto and Maletestino, and both sang with great conviction. Fine solo appearance in Act I by Philip Horst as Francesca’s scheming brother Ostasio, and Ginger Costa-Jackson sang a beautiful mezzo as Francesca’s confidante Smaragdi.

She sings of potions, and appears in Act III as a Brangaene-like character to Francesca’s Isolde, but this opera’s eclectic allusions to Tristan und Isolde, and Lancelot and Guinevere, along with the musical resonances with Strauss and Puccini, weaken it and obscure any creative focus. There were lovely moments however, such as the kiss at the end of Act III, where Francesca’s costume and body language mirrored the 1895 painting Flaming June by Frederic Leighton. Eva-Maria Westbroek sang a fine prayer in Act IV, and the sudden ending with two brothers left standing while Francesca and Paolo lie dead was a coup de theâtre.

Gianciotto, Malatestino, Paolo

Plenty of tension from the orchestra under Marco Armiliato, and thank you to the Met for a production so fine that I shall never feel the need to see this opera again. In the intermission features, Sondra Radvanovsky told Marcello Giordani that he had performed 27 operas at the Met, and gushingly asked if this was his favorite. He answered diplomatically, unlike a singer in a previous opera who responded less charitably to one of her questions.

Parsifal, Metropolitan Opera live cinema relay, 2 March 2013

A stunning performance with a wonderful cast under superb musical direction by Daniele Gatti could make for a series of tiresome superlatives, so I shall start with a more interesting observation.

Kundry, Parsifal, Gurnemanz, all images MetOpera/ KenHoward

This endlessly intriguing opera allows every production to bring out some new aspect. The brilliant Bayreuth production relates it to the history of Germany in the first half of the twentieth century, but this one by François Girard has a more ethereal nature in which I found myself drawing a comparison between Act II of Parsifal with Siegfried.

In that middle section, Evgeny Nikitin, whose body tattoos caused his last minute rejection as the Dutchman at Bayreuth this past summer, made an extraordinary Klingsor reminiscent of Alberich in Siegfried. Here was a magician who held power by his determination to thwart the world, but is being defeated by forces beyond his control. And as Katerina Dalayman’s seductive Kundry cast her spell over Jonas Kaufmann’s simple, yet nobly portrayed Parsifal, singing of a mother’s yearning and a mother’s tears, I almost expected him to burst out with O heil der Mutter, die mich gebar! (O hail to the mother who gave me birth). But this is not Siegfried. Parsifal has a hidden inner strength and finally bursts out with Amfortas! …, recalling his great mission to relieve the enduring pain and mortal failure of the king, and renew of land of the Grail.

In Act III as he blesses Kundry, allowing her to die in peace, and heals the wound of Peter Mattei’s agonized Amfortas, so he can do the same, the excellent lighting and video designs by David Finn and Peter Flaherty change the bleak landscape to one of warmth and sunrise. Everything is entsündigt und entsühnt (redeemed and atoned for), though the subtitles gave a very odd translation of the German at times.

The cinematography by Barbara Willis Sweete was exceptional, giving us a full stage picture with close-ups that never intruded to spoil the magic. In fact it enhanced the production in some places, as when Parsifal and Gurnemanz travel together to the Grail and we hear those wonderful lines Ich schreite kaum, doch wähn’ ich mich schon weit. Du siehst mein Sohn, zum Raum wird hier die Zeit (I scarcely step yet seem to move apace. You see, my son, here time is one with space). The camera views them from below, and manages the feat of rendering Gurnemanz larger than Parsifal.

As Gurnemanz, René Pape gave a performance of huge power, with fine diction. In Act I his expressions of emotion gave us a man who cares deeply for his beloved land of the Grail, and in Act III his sanctification of Parsifal was a sublime moment. The whole cast sang superbly, as did the chorus, and Carolyn Choa’s choreography for the Flower Maidens was attractively subdued and musical.

Good hosting by Eric Owens, who was a memorable Alberich in The Ring, and congratulations to the Met for this intelligent screening of Wagner’s final opera.

Rigoletto, Metropolitan Opera live cinema relay, 16 February 2013

The idea of Rigoletto in early 1960s Las Vegas during the days of the Rat Pack made me apprehensive, but the superb sets by Christine Jones and costumes by Susan Hilferty won me over completely. Count Monterone as an Arab sheikh, the colourful tuxedos of the men, the stylish dark green and purple of Sparafucile’s two different costumes, and the vanity plate on his car gave a terrific sense of atmosphere, and I loved the neon rain and lightning for the storm outside Sparafucile’s tavern in Act III.

The Duke in his casino, all images MetOpera/ Ken Howard

Quibbles later, but the singing was wonderful. Željko Lučić was a well toned Rigoletto, and Piotr Beczala as the Duke hit the high notes, and his soliloquy Ella mi fu rapita at the start of Act II — when for four or five minutes he regrets losing Gilda — was beautifully delivered. As Gilda herself, Diana Damrau sang very sweetly. The duet with her father Rigoletto in Act I formed a touching scene, and her later recollection of the Duke, using the false name he has given her, Gaultier Maldè … core innammorato! came through with a sweet naivety that reappeared at the end as she promises to pray for her father from heaven.

Rigoletto and Gilda, Act I

Keeping her sheltered from the wiles and wickedness of the Duke’s casino where he works is his business, but taking vengeance and deciding to be the instrument of Monterone’s curse is to take on the role of God. Yet there is only one god in this story, namely the Duke who exercises absolute power, or at least is supposed to. This didn’t quite manifest itself in Michael Mayer’s production, though that is a minor quibble.

Rigoletto and Sparafucile

However I liked the way Sparafucile was portrayed, and Štefan Kocán sang the role with great finesse. Oksana Volkova made a very colourful and sexy Maddalena, and Robert Pomakov gave a wonderful rendering of Monterone’s utterances. The Arabian gear was a clever notion, as was the idea of using the trunk of a car rather than a sack for the dead body, allowing the stage to be dark while the body was lit up with the trunk open.

Gilda dies

The main problem for me came with a lack of operatic drama at the end when Rigoletto realises his daughter is the victim of his own plot. For one thing he just seemed too nice a guy to undertake a murder, and he didn’t seem sufficiently shocked that the body was that of his beloved daughter rather than the Duke. Perhaps Michele Mariotti’s conducting could have helped more here by giving a sense of trembling and urgency when Rigoletto sings Dio! … mia figlia. As it was the ending felt more like a that of a musical than a Verdi opera.

Les Troyens, Metropolitan Opera live cinema relay, January 5, 2013

Where are the Trojans when we need them? They provided the Greeks with stories portraying a welcome incompetence, letting a wooden horse full of Greeks into their city, and having their great warrior Hector defeat someone he thought was Achilles, only to be killed by the real one.

MetOpera image/ Cory Weaver

But in this Met production the Trojans are strongly represented, and Deborah Voigt as Cassandra was spectacular, not only singing the part with great power but exhibiting a stage presence worthy of the world’s greatest actresses. The glorious costume helped show her to be the most beautiful woman in the world, desired by Apollo who gave her the gift of prophecy but took it away with the curse that no one would ever believe her.

Coroebus and Cassandra/ KenHoward

As the Trojan prince Aeneas, Bryan Hymel took over from Marcello Giordani, who was a puzzling choice for this role. Hymel sang it at Covent Garden last summer, and was once again magnificent. His Act V solo Inutiles regrets was terrific, and his chemistry with Susan Graham as Dido was excellent.

She really came into her own in Act V, so beautiful in her mauve dress earlier in that act, so convincing in her grief. In Acts III and IV she also sang gloriously but came over more as a suburban widow than a queen, though I blame director Francesca Zambello here. I’ve seen her render other vivacious heroines in an unattractive way, and what did all that choreography by Doug Varone achieve in Acts III and IV? It was naff. It was tiresome. Some people left the cinema after Act IV, and indeed the sugary atmosphere was so cloying that Aeneas must have wanted out too. But that’s not the way Virgil intended it, nor indeed Berlioz.

Aeneas and son/ KenHoward

The direction and setting in Acts III and IV was extraordinarily suburban and unregal. Dido, Aeneas and others sat around watching entertainment and looking like actors in a television sit-com, while the camera zoomed in as Dido rearranged her dress. Queens do not do this — indeed imagine Angela Merkel rearranging her dress at a semi-public entertainment, and she is a mere prime minister. Dido was the great queen who led her people from Tyre to found a new colony in North Africa, but Acts III and IV failed to exhibit this. And even in Act V when Dido committed suicide she thrust the short sword to the side of her waist and then turned away from the audience. She should turn first, particularly with camera close-ups, so we can’t see the pretence.

Directorial faults aside, Fabio Luisi in the orchestra pit gave a lyrical account of Berlioz’s score, and the singers and huge chorus were magnificent. Karen Cargill sang very strongly as Dido’s sister Anna, as did Kwangchul Youn as Dido’s Minister Narbal, showing the gravitas that befits a man who sang a wonderful Gurnemanz at Bayreuth last summer. The Met have assembled an excellent cast and among other soloists, Dwayne Croft sang with nobility as Cassandra’s fiancé Coroebus, and Paul Appleby gave a stirring performance of Hylas’s song at the start of Act V.

Dido in agony/ CoryWeaver

With David McVicar’s production at Covent Garden, La Scala, San Francisco and Vienna, and now this production at the Met, Les Troyens seems to be much in vogue, but it is long and with the tiresome choreography on display here some cuts to the dance sequences might be very welcome.

Un Ballo in Maschera, Metropolitan Opera live cinema relay, December 2012

David Alden’s vivid production of Verdi’s Ballo, portrays the main characters Riccardo and Renato in their historical roles as the Swedish king Gustav III and his murderer Anckarström. The assassination took place at a masked ball, and in an account written by a Polish officer who was present, the king received an anonymous warning “N’allez pas au bal ce soir. Il y va de votre vie” (Do not go to the ball this evening. Your life will be lost).

Fortune telling with King in disguise, all images MetOpera/ Ken Howard

Captain Anckarström, chosen by the two main conspirators, shot the king in the back at close range with a pistol loaded with rusty nails to encourage gangrene, and the king took thirteen days to die. He forgave the conspirators, but Anckarström was captured, had his gun hand lopped off and was flogged for three days, before being beheaded and quartered.

Scribe wrote a play on the incident, plus an opera libretto for Auber, titled Gustave III, ou Le bal masqué. Verdi wanted to use it for his own opera, but censors and other irritations transferred the action to Boston with a new libretto. Verdi used the invention of a love intrigue between Gustav and Anckarström’s, but in fact Gustav was homosexual, and the assassin nursed a different grievance. But many points of the story, such as the fortune-teller Ulrica Arfvidsson are quite accurate, and the king paid this society medium an incognito visit where she predicted his death by a man in a mask.

King and Amelia

Verdi’s opera brings into Act I the main characters, Gustavo, Anckarström, Amelia, Ulrica, and the additional role of the page Oscar, and Alden used some of the bouncy music for a song and dance routine, as if this were to be Ballo, the Musical. The bare stage allowed plenty of movement and was very effective for the scene in a wild place outside the city in Act II. This was after the interval, which featured a love-in between the interviewer Deborah Voigt, who looked terrific, and Marcello Alvarez, along with a welcomely assertive Dmitri Hvorostovsky, who commented on the set amplifying the voices, perhaps explaining why the others in Act I seemed a bit strained at times.

Anckarström and Amelia

After the first interval the problem was rectified, and as Act II started, Sondra Radvanovsky came through beautifully in her long soliloquy as Amelia. Marcello Alvarez sang Gustavo with a warm passion, and Dmitri Hvorostovsky played Anckarström with just the right feeling, from concern for the king’s safety to horror in finding the veiled woman he accompanies back to the city to be his own wife. With Stephenie Blythe as Ulrica in Act I, and Kathleen Kim as a lively page with a pretty voice, the singing of the cast complemented the orchestra to perfection under sensitive musical direction by Fabio Luisi.

Oscar tends the dying king

Verdi’s music for this opera is inspired, and Sondra Radvanovsky’s Morrè, ma prima in grazia (I shall die, but first, in mercy … ) was upliftingly emotional. Her husband’s response was sung with great feeling by Hvorostovsky, as was the monologue by Alvarez, Forse la soglio attinse (Perhaps she reached her home … ) in the next scene, before the stage exploded into action for a dramatic ball scene. Ballo may not one of Verdi’s most famous operas, but don’t miss this in a repeat cinema screening if it’s available.

The Tempest, Metropolitan Opera live cinema relay, November 2012

This remarkable opera by Thomas Adès, to a libretto by Meredith Oakes, dares turn Shakespeare’s play into an opera, and succeeds.

All images MetOpera/ Ken Howard

First performed in 2004 at Covent Garden in an intriguing production by Tom Cairns, it was originally co-produced with the Copenhagen Opera House and the Opéra National du Rhin in Strasbourg. This production at the Met by Robert Lepage, co-produced with the Quebec Opera and the Vienna State Opera, shows Prospero’s body tattooed with knowledge from the vast library he owned in Milan before his exile, whereas in Cairns’ production he used a laptop. That single difference is emblematic of the distinction between these productions, the first ethereal, the second set on the stage of an early nineteenth century La Scala with costumes to match. Rather appropriate since the play shows how Prospero’s stage magic wins him back the Dukedom of Milan plus a marital alliance with the Kingdom of Naples.

Prospero and Miranda

The forging of that alliance, between his daughter Miranda and Prince Ferdinand of Naples, is rather different from Shakespeare, where one might suppose that Prospero intended it all along. Here the libretto makes clear that he greatly detests the intrusion of Ferdinand, and in this production he strings him up.

Prospero and Ariel

The Met did well to cast Simon Keenlyside as Prospero, which he sang in the original production and performed here with huge vocal strength and commanding stage presence. Isabel Leonard as his daughter Miranda was a study in perfection, and she and Alek Shrader as Ferdinand made a lovely couple. As Prospero’s monstrous servant Caliban, Alan Oke made a terrific impression from his very first entrance, and in this production he appeared almost as a dark alter-ego to his master. He, Prospero and Miranda, inhabitants of the island before the storm that brings Prospero’s enemies to judgement, carried the opera between them, but other roles were notably well performed. Toby Spence, who sang Ferdinand in London, came over very well as Antonio, the usurper who took the Dukedom of Milan from his brother, and Christopher Feigum sang strongly as brother to the King of Naples, nobly represented by William Burden.

The production starts with a gymnastic Ariel cavorting on a chandelier with shipwrecked passengers bobbing around in a stormy sea. Soon after, Audrey Luna as the singing Ariel showed she was no mean gymnast herself as she flitted about, barely ever touching the ground. Carried by invisible hands at times she seemed to float, and finally became a twelve legged insect hovering above the stage, a remarkable physical performance.

Caliban

Congratulations to the Met for putting on a modern British opera, conducted by the composer himself, who provides a beautiful musical tapestry, from the devilishly magical to a gentle love duet for Ferdinand and Miranda. Such is the stuff that dreams are made on, and at the end Caliban is alone, all others being melted into air, into thin air.

L’Elisir d’Amore, Metropolitan Opera New York, live cinema relay, October 2012

The Met’s 2012/13 cinema season starts with a romantic comedy, but have no fear, some serious Shakespeare is on the way. In two and four weeks time they will broadcast Verdi’s Otello and Thomas Adès’s The Tempest. In the meantime this was a super L’elisir with Anna Netrebko as a sparkling Adina, and Mariusz Kwiecien as a charmingly forceful Belcore, producing fireworks with their mutual attraction in early Act I.

Adina and Belcore, all images MetOpera/ Ken Howard

That interaction was a fine catalyst for the duet between Adina and Matthew Polenzani as an endearingly sympathetic  Nemorino when she advises him of inconstancy and fickleness in Chieda all’aura lusinghiera (Ask the flattering breeze), and he responds with Chieda al rio (Ask the river). Wonderful stuff, and this production by Bartlett Sher fully brought out the romance between the two of them. It was helped of course by Michael Yeargan’s set designs, reminiscent of those by Oliver Messel, whose designs for the ballet can still be seen today by London audiences. Costumes by Catherine Zuber were of the 1830s when Donizetti wrote this opera, and the top hat for Adina was an attractive feature emphasising her superiority over the other young women.

Dulcamara

Nemorino and elixir

Indeed Adina is a highly literate woman, and at the beginning of the opera is found reading to others the tale of Tristan and Isolde. The romance is there right at the start, and Bartlett Sher has taken his cue and allowed the comedy to take a more natural second place. Of course the truly comic figure is the charlatan ‘Doctor’ Dulcamara who produces the elixir of love for Nemorino. He was grandly portrayed by Ambrogio Maestri as a well-fed bullshit artist, whose consumption of spaghetti at the wedding feast was a useful focal point for the camera.  This is in Act II where Matthew Polenzani’s impassioned rendering of Una furtiva lagrima was sung with huge feeling, and brought the house down.

Helped by Anna Netrebko’s playful sexiness, the four principals all did a wonderful job together, aided by fine orchestral support from Maurizio Benini in the orchestra pit. This is what one expects from the Met, and I look forward to Otello in a couple of weeks time. For anyone in London who is keen to see L’elisir on stage, the Royal Opera will give eight performances starting in mid-November.

La Bohème, Opera Australia live cinema relay, April 2012

Transferring the action from late nineteenth century Paris to early 1930s Berlin allowed director Gale Edwards some extra scope with Act II. The Café Momus has become a cabaret venue, replete with scantily dressed girls in stockings and corsets, including one topless, and hints of bisexuality. With a superb performance by Taryn Fiebig as a very glamorous Musetta, this was a lot of fun. She sang beautifully and her wonderful stage presence reminded me of Deborah Voigt.

Alcindoro with Musetta in Act II, all images Jeff Busby

Yet Ms. Fiebig was not the only one with panache, as Shane Lowrencev’s tall and very camp Schaunard made a great entrance in Act I at the same time as the two errand boys with provisions.  Mimi was charmingly portrayed by Takesha Meshé Kizart, and the painter Marcello was very strongly sung and acted by José Carbo. I liked the touches of paint on his clothes, and his genial disposition, allied with a firmness that Musetta could find very attractive, was ideal for the role. After all she doesn’t think much of the wealthy Alcindoro in Act II and apparently far prefers the impecunious artist.

Mimi and Rodolfo

The bohemians’ garret is a huge room with a very high ceiling, light entering from windows at the top, and plenty of room for clowning around in Acts I and IV. But in Act I it is supposed to be very cold, yet Rodolfo was in shirt-sleeves and Mimi wore an elegant crochet shawl that would not have kept her very warm. It’s also supposed to be rather dark, yet in the cinema screening I saw — which was not the live relay that will be broadcast on April 24 — the lighting was over-bright, rendering the key all too visible. And in the close-ups Ji-Min Park as Rodolfo was covered in perspiration, which made him look ill. This was particularly odd in Act IV when it’s Mimi who is dying, and I wondered why he was laughing at some points. Very strange.

All in all, however, this staging gives a fine insight into the opera, with the four bohemians interacting very well together, and David Parkin as Colline giving a fine account of his beloved coat. In the cinema I was in the sound was too dry and bright, and Rodolfo’s voice did not show enough depth, but the other voices came over more successfully and the orchestra under the direction of Shao-Chia Lü gave a fine rendering of Puccini’s score, bringing out the emotive power of the music.

The cinema screening dates for Opera Australia’s season are: La Bohème 24th April; Lakmé 29th May; Don Giovanni 26th June; La Traviata 31st July; Turandot 28th August; Die tote Stadt 27th November; and then in 2013 The Pearl Fishers 29th January; and Madama Butterfly 26th March. For further information, including a list of cinema venues in the UK, click here.

Ernani, Metropolitan Opera live cinema relay, February 2012

After Verdi’s first four operas were premiered at La Scala, La Fenice in Venice commissioned the fifth, and the composer eventually plumped for Victor Hugo’s play Hernani, a drama on Castillian honour. The resulting opera Ernani may lack the irony and humour of the original play, but it supplies four glorious roles for soprano, tenor, baritone, and bass. Requiting Spanish honour leads to the death of the soprano and tenor right at the end of this production, and in the play the man sung by a bass kills himself too.

De Silva, Elvira, Don Carlo, all photos MetOpera/ Marty Sohl

This is Don Ruy Gomez De Silva, sung by Ferruccio Furlanetto, who inhabited the role of passionate yet honourable Spanish nobleman as if it was entirely his own nature. Here is a man who will protect an intruder with his life, once he has been accepted as guest, even though the intruder turns out to be his rival Ernani. This is the tenor, who appears in the first scene as leader of the bandits, and is love with De Silva’s ward, Elvira. She is adored by tenor, bass, and the baritone, King Carlos of Spain. The opera takes place in 1519 when Carlos is about to be elected Holy Roman Emperor, becoming Charles V, whose ghost appears in Verdi’s later opera Don Carlo. Here he is a very young man, portrayed with utter conviction by Dmitri Hvorostovsky.

Furlanetto as De Silva

After an unpromising start in the overture and the bandit camp, the scene changes to Elvira’s apartment in the castle and Angela Meade raised the level of performance hugely with her wonderful soliloquy expressing love for Ernani and distaste for De Silva. This young soprano produced wonderful trills and lovely soft sounds, and her aria in this scene was a tour de force. The later trio with Elvira, Ernani and Don Carlo came over beautifully, and Marcello Giordani sang strongly with the others, though he seemed to be straining in his own solos, particularly in the higher register. After De Silva enters and has been fobbed off with a story about what is going on in his castle, Furlanetto is left alone to sing a riveting monologue, wishing that his heart had become chilled with age rather than full of youthful ardour. Such wonderful singing from Furlanetto, and from Hvorostovsky, particularly when he shows Carlo’s strength and determination in Act III.

This early Verdi contains a wealth of beautiful music, and though the characters may not carry the interest inherent in many of his later operas, the singers turned in gripping performances, and I’m delighted the Met have broadcast it. The costumes by Peter J. Hall are wonderful, the camera work by Barbara Willis Sweete cleverly showed the full effect of the stage, and the chorus was magnificent. Marco Armiliato in the orchestra pit gave huge support to the singers, and there was a real bounce to the music immediately the chorus sang at the start of Act I.

Ernani and Elvira

The interval features were not up to the Met’s usual high standard. Joyce DiDonato looked awkward in her red dress, and seemed surprisingly wooden with the principals, though more comfortable with regular employees of the opera house, such as chorus director Donald Palumbo. And why do we need to hear the voice of the master carpenter as the scenery is shifted around? But Peter Gelb is an engaging presence, and his mouth-watering description of next season’s cinema highlights was a delight.

Giselle, Royal Ballet, live relay from Covent Garden, January 2011

This two-act ballet creates a wonderful dichotomy between daylight and night-time. Act I is set in the everyday world, but the second act takes place in world of the wilis, spirits of dead maidens who rise up and destroy any young man they encounter. The story is straightforward. Count Albrecht, disguised as a peasant, wins the heart of Giselle, displacing her previous lover Hilarion. But Hilarion unmasks Albrecht and the shock devastates Giselle, who dies. Both men visit her grave at night and encounter the wilis. Hilarion they destroy, but Giselle helps Albrecht to live until dawn when the power of the wilis fades away. As they leave the stage, Albrecht tries to grasp the wraith that was Giselle, but she eludes him and vanishes.

Nuñez as Giselle in Act 1, photos by Johan Persson

The story lends itself to psychological interpretation, but this is ballet, not opera, and there is no gimmickry. The choreography and the music amply express the emotions and it’s up to the dancers to exhibit it all. On this occasion Marianela Nuñez gave a charming performance as Giselle, particularly in Act I where her main solo was beautifully danced, and her mad scene was a mixture of heartfelt sincerity and abject anguish. She was superbly partnered by Rupert Pennefather who showed a lovely line, well expressing his noble station in life. Gary Avis gave us a strong portrayal of Hilarion, and Genesia Rosato was excellent as Giselle’s mother, Berthe, an important character whose mime sequences express so much. That’s where a first view of this ballet is not enough because it’s not possible to grasp the significance of the mime gestures at first sight. Unfortunately stage performance has largely lost the language of mime, yet Berthe clearly explains about the wilis and their power over young men who carelessly strut their way through life.

But it’s not all mime, and there’s plenty of dancing in Act I, which was beautifully performed. The pas-de-six was headed Yuhui Choe and Ricardo Cervera; she was glorious as usual, and I found his musicality outstanding. Anyone seeing this ballet for the first time might miss the significance of the sword and the hunting horn, but Hilarion clearly compares the crests and realises Albrecht is of the same household as the noble hunting party. When he forces this knowledge on Giselle she goes crazy, and after a short mad scene she dies.

Nuñez and Pennefather in Act 2

In Act II, Helen Crawford was a fine queen of the wilis, with her big jumps and sense of command, well assisted by Yuhui Choe and Sian Murphy as her attendants. Pennefather and Nuñez were very good together, and I only wish that at the start of their first encounter in the woods the music had not been at such a lifeless tempo, forcing them to move in such slow motion. Apart from this one moment, Koen Kessels’ conducting was full of energy and emotion. It was notably better than the previous week, which was, I suppose, due to extra rehearsals for this live relay. If that’s the case then let us hope the ballet conductors can get more time with the orchestra in future because it makes a big difference to the performance.

This production by Peter Wright makes Giselle one of the strongest ballets in the Company’s classical repertoire, and the updated lighting by David Finn for Act II is wonderfully atmospheric. It conveys the ghostliness of the wilis and their world, which is essential to the story.

Performances with a variety of different casts continue until February 19 — for a review of another cast click here, and for details of further performances click here.