Aladdin, Birmingham Royal Ballet, BRB, London Coliseum, March 2013

While Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland plays at Covent Garden, the Birmingham Royal Ballet brings David Bintley’s new Aladdin to the London Coliseum. The former is sold out, and the latter deserves to be too, because both are equally great fun though entirely different.

Djinn and Magician, all images ©BRB/ Bill Cooper

Aladdin is a ripping yarn based on those Tales of the Arabian Nights, and its luminous story-telling, with a big pas-de-deux for Aladdin and the Princess in each of the three acts, allows more space for classical dancing than Alice. It all starts in the market place, reminiscent of Romeo and Juliet, and the multiple dances of Act I recalled the second act of Nutcracker. Aladdin’s dispatch of the magician in Act III reminded me of the Tsarevich and Kashchei in Firebird, and these allusions point to the fact that this array of classical dancing is a feast for the eyes.

A Chinese dragon

Excellent sets by Dick Bird, and the costumes by Sue Blane are lovely — Persian and Ottoman concepts with a splash of Far Eastern magic, perhaps suiting the fact that this ballet was first produced in Japan. With that audience in mind, Bintley relied more on his choreography than on big acting performances, and the whole thing is a wonderfully exuberant show of dance. Mark Jonathan’s lighting helps draw out the magic, and the costume and make-up for the magician made him look like an ancient Sumerian god, which if intentional is a very clever touch.

The whole company danced with great élan, and Jamie Bond and Jenna Roberts made a delightful couple as Aladdin and the Princess, dancing a thrillingly joyful pas-de-deux in Act II. Tzu-Chao Chou was a remarkably airborne Djinn of the Lamp, and his Act II leap above the heads of four men who then hold him up high in a sitting position was a wonder to be seen. Iain Mackay as the magician showed marvellous stage presence with his gliding movements, and Marion Tait as Aladdin’s mother was as ever a musical delight.

The music itself by Carl Davis creates a magical atmosphere already in the overture, and this is a case where choreography and music were created to complement one another. There is not a dull moment, and the orchestra played beautifully under the baton of Philip Davis.

With four more performances in London, two of them matinees, this is a must-see. Do not be put off by associating this to a well known pantomime of the same name. Yes, there is a magic carpet and they float back home after escaping from the magician’s lair, but this is classical ballet with a swing in its step. Performances at the London Coliseum continue until March 24 — for details click here.

Lulu, Welsh National Opera, Cardiff, February 2013

Alban Berg’s Lulu, mostly written in 1934, was only performed in a complete version for the first time in 1979. Berg died in 1935, and after his widow could not get Schoenberg, nor Webern or Zemlinsky, to write an orchestration of Act III she refused any attempt at completion, and so it remained until she died more than forty years after her husband.

Lulu and Countess Geschwitz, all images WNO/ Clive Barda

Complete productions are much to be desired because in Berg’s unique musical language the three acts hang together, and David Pountney has done us the great service of staying true to the composer’s vision, and indeed that of Frank Wedekind, who wrote the two plays on which it is based. If you saw the Covent Garden production by Christof Loy in 2009, a coldly unrealistic concert-like performance, be assured this is utterly different. Colourful, yet capable of huge coldness towards the end, courtesy of Mark Jonathan’s clever lighting, this production allows us to see Lulu’s abject amorality and the fascination she exerts on those around her.

Schön and Lulu

Johan Engels’ set recalls the circus of the prologue, perhaps even the meta-human achievements of the 2012 Olympics, and the animal heads used in Marie-Jeanne Lecca’s costumes recall the convergence of humanity and inhumanity in The Story of O. The bowler hats represent the world outside, as do the umbrellas in the final scene, where Lulu meets her end in a dreary post-Dickensian London.

After each of her three husbands dies earlier in the opera he is hung on the set and lifted high up, remaining there until the end when each returns in a different guise. This helps exhibit the symmetry of Berg’s opera, centred as it is on the incarceration of Lulu after the death of her husband, Dr. Schön. She kills him herself and he returns as Jack the Ripper. Heady stuff, with Lulu as nemesis to the desire and fascination she evokes, the earth spirit in the first part of Wedekind’s drama.

Lulu, Act I sc.3

Marie Arnet did a superb job of bringing this Erdgeist to stage, secure in voice and sure in characterization under David Pountney’s direction. Here is something far more than a femme fatale. She is a creature of the spirit world that lurks in our unconscious, befitting the deeply intellectual milieu that produced Freud and the music of the Second Viennese School. Some excellent singing too from others in the cast, with Natascha Petrinsky particularly notable as Lulu’s lesbian lover and admirer, the Countess Geschwitz. Ashley Holland gave a sound performance as Dr. Schön, with Peter Hoare giving a brilliantly incisive portrayal as Lulu’s lover and Schön’s son Alwa. Richard Angas came over very well as the animal tamer and Schigolch, as did Mark LeBrocq as the Artist in Act I reincarnated as the Negro in Act III, Patricia Orr as the schoolboy and other roles, Julian Close as the Acrobat, and Alan Oke was superb as Prince, Manservant and Marquis in the three acts.

Conducting by Lothar Koenigs brought out the full range and value of Berg’s extraordinary score, and in Pountney’s hands this was a production to savour. When Lulu is incarcerated after the death of Schön, her Freiheit removed like Freia in Wagner’s Ring, there was a similar lassitude that could only be relieved by her escape. And talking of the Ring, the patch over Schigolch’s eye, and his appearance at the end, reminded me of Wagner’s Wanderer in Siegfried.

This was a rip-roaring success for WNO, and if you don’t know the story of the opera, read it up first and buy a programme for the excellent essays it contains.

Performances at the Wales Millennium Centre continue until February 23, after which it tours to: The Birmingham Hippodrome, 5 Mar; Venue Cymru, Llandudno, 12 Mar; The Mayflower, Southampton, 19 Mar; Milton Keynes Theatre, 26 Mar; Theatre Royal, Plymouth, 2 Apr — for details click here.

Yevgeny Onegin, Opera Holland Park, OHP, July 2012

This production by Daniel Slater updates the action by nearly 100 years to a time we all understand, making it clear that Onegin is living in the past. Such was arguably Pushkin’s intent in setting his novel in the period 1819–25 when reforms were very much in the air, and later crushed. Here we are in pre-First World War Russia in Acts I and II, followed by Lenin’s new world in Act III.

Olga and Tatyana, with Onegin revisiting the past; all images OHP/ Fritz Curzon

The sets by Leslie Travers show the destruction of the old aristocratic world, and during the brief musical introduction we see a man, and a woman, both in black coat and hat, gazing on what they have lost. Onegin has lost his earlier life: the dreamy country girl he rebuffed and humiliated, and his friend the provincial poetaster whom he killed in an absurd duel over the country girl’s vacuous sister. When he and she eventually meet again in Act III, the country girl Tatyana is now married to the worthy Prince Gremin, and Anna Leese’s monologue represented vocally how disturbed she feels at their new encounter. When he comes to her room, her heartfelt Ya vas lyublyu! (I love you) was a pivotal moment of pure Russian emotion, brilliantly supported by the orchestra under the direction of Alexander Polianichko, who conducted the same opera for the ENO nearly twenty years ago.

Tatyana and Onegin

The Russian diction was generally very good, and Hannah Pedley as a saucily amusing Olga was outstanding in this respect. Anne Mason represented a calm and dignified presence as the girls’ mother, and Elizabeth Sikora a comfily simple Filippyevna. Peter Auty as Lensky came across as truly Russian, singing a lyrically melodious Ya lyublyu vas to Olga in Act I, and suddenly losing his rag in Act II. As his second in the duel, Barnaby Rea’s diction was excellent, his Ubit over Lensky’s body having an air of utter finality, and in Act III Graeme Broadbent made a commanding figure as Prince Gremin, his main monologue powerfully sung.

Mark Stone portrayed Onegin as an attractive, sympathetic man, albeit narcissistic and aloof from the country folk, and sang this role very well. Anna Leese as Tatyana was outstanding, not just in Act III, but in the letter scene where she showed superb impulsiveness and emotional energy. It was a gripping performance suddenly raising the drama to a higher level.

That letter scene was cleverly played in this production, with multiple letters in the hands of the female chorus, all in nightdresses like Tatyana, and as they exited stage rear it made a poignant scene. Among other nice points, Monsieur Triquet’s silly doggerel in Act II was delivered as if he himself is in love with Tatyana, falling on his knees in front of her before being dragged away. Onegin does the same at the end of Act III, before she draws on inner resources to send him away herself.

Wonderfully subtle lighting changes by Mark Jonathan helped alter the emotional tone of events, and Alexander Polianichko’s conducting gave a fine example of Russian brass playing at the start of Act III. This is a must-see.

Performances continue until August 4 — for details click here.

Ballo della Regina, with Nuñez and Kish/ La Sylphide, with Cojocaru and McRae, Royal Ballet, Covent Garden, May 2012

Ballo Della Regina (The Queen’s Ball) is a short Balanchine work set to music that was cut from Verdi’s opera Don Carlo.

The corps in Ballo, all Ballo images Bill Cooper

This ballet involves a sequence of variations, first with twelve girls in blue, joined by two principals in white. After a pas-de-deux for the principals, four soloists in violet come on one at a time, and more variations follow. It demands huge precision, and the principal roles, Marianela Nuñez was beautifully partnered by Nehemiah Kish. The soloists, Beatriz Stix-Brunell, Yuhui Choe, Emma Maguire and Samantha Raine also danced exquisitely, as did the twelve girls from the corps. Daniel Capps conducted with a suitably regal tone while maintaining a fine rhythm for dance, and this was a delight to watch.

Nuñez and Kish in Ballo

La Sylphide is quite different, a narrative ballet in two acts by Danish choreographer August Bournonville, and this excellent staging is by the Royal Ballet’s Danish principal Johan Kobborg, who has added some choreography of his own. The fine set designs by Sören Frandsen are beautifully lit by Mark Jonathan, and I love the costumes by Henrik Bloch. In the principal role of James, Steven McRae danced the difficult choreography sublimely. He is about to be married to Effie, beautifully portrayed by Emma Maguire whose fine deportment and épaulement created a glorious stage presence. So confident at first, until upset by James’s mysterious lack of desire after his encounter with the sylph who woke him from sleep.

Cojocaru in Act I, all Sylphide images Johan Persson

Alina Cojocaru was a lovely sylph, always apart and never actually dancing with James. This is a story about a young man’s self-destruction, aided by the appearance of the sorceress Madge whom he suddenly notices sitting by the fire in a place where the sylph had been. Who is Madge? Possibly a fallen sylph, jealous of the one who seems able to win James, and Kristen McNally was superb in this role, reading palms and defiantly predicting that Effie would not marry James but the farmer Gurn, who adores her. Her mime sequences were clearly and beautifully done, and Valentino Zucchetti danced Gurn with huge presence and power, performing effortless leaps in the air.

Cojocaru in Act II

This Bournonville ballet in its recent staging by Johan Kobborg was once a new departure for the Royal Ballet, and dancing this style along with the many other styles they perform is a remarkable feat. The music by Løvenskiold, composed when he was just twenty-one, was brilliantly conducted by Daniel Capps who gave it all the necessary momentum to sustain the narrative. A wonderful evening, but such a pity to see empty seats in the Amphi.

Performances continue until June 15 — for details click here.

Daphnis and Chloë/ The Two Pigeons, Birmingham Royal Ballet, BRB, London Coliseum, March 2012

Essential for first rate ballet are music and choreography, and this double bill provides them in spades, along with some very fine dancing.

Daphnis and Chloë, all images Bill Cooper

Both ballets involve young lovers splitting apart, yet reunited at the end, and both are choreographed by one of the great masters of the twentieth century, Frederick Ashton. His creations were entirely new, the original choreography for Daphnis and Chloë being lost, and Messager’s score for Two Pigeons being re-orchestrated by John Lanchbery, who rounded it off at the end with a return to the scene at the start, the lovers together again in the studio. Musically and choreographically these are a must-see. Ravel’s music for Daphnis and Chloë is one of the world’s great ballet scores, and though the music for Two Pigeons may be less well known it is simply glorious. Conducting by Koen Kessels was hugely powerful, yet entirely sensitive to the dancers.

The dancing itself was excellent, the corps work very fine, and Elisha Willis gave a lovely performance as both the virginal Chloë and the hot-blooded gypsy girl in Two Pigeons, who causes the young painter to leave his lover and run after her. She filled both roles with conviction, and Robert Parker and Nao Sakuma as the lovers in Pigeons were a delight. Strong dancing all round, with superb sets, costumes and lighting.

The designs for Daphnis and Chloë are John Craxton’s originals for Ashton’s ballet, the gathered skirts for the women and belted trousers and shirtsleeves for the men bringing the classical remoteness of this story into the Mediterranean world so well evoked by Ravel’s score. And the stylised sets, though highly evocative of the period in which they were created, give a timeless background to the story.

The Two Pigeons: Robert Parker and Nao Sakuma

In Two Pigeons, Jacques Dupont’s lovely set, with its window to the city and sky, was beautifully lit by Mark Jonathan, the colours of the sky evincing a magical appeal for the anchored freedom of rooftops, and life in the upper floor of a city building. And those pigeons, seeming to fly free outside the window yet with one flying in to join the other at the end, evoke the beauty of this charming story.

These two ballets form a superb double bill, but it will be over in the blink of an eye, so fly down to see it without delay. There is a matinée and evening performance at the London Coliseum on March 14 — for details click here.

L’amico Fritz, Opera Holland Park, OHP, June 2011

If you’ve never seen L’amico Fritz before, it’s worth going because this opera contains some lovely music by the same composer who gave us Cavalleria Rusticana. And if you’ve seen it before, it’s also worth going because you will hear Anna Leese in the main role of Suzel, and she’s stunning. She rises effortlessly over double fortissimos in the orchestra, with phrasing that gives huge emotional power to her singing.

This is Mascagni’s second opera after his great success with Cavalleria Rusticana, and Stuart Stratford’s conducting of the City of London Sinfonia brought out its high moments most beautifully. There are also some very light moments, and it occurred to me that since the composer wanted never to repeat himself and always do something new, why not write for the ballet. His music certainly has a rhythmic pulse that would suit a choreographer, and after all, Tchaikovsky wrote opera and ballet at the same time as Mascagni produced this piece, to say nothing of Stravinsky and Prokofiev later.

Fritz and Suzel, photo Fritz Curzon

The story of L’amico Fritz might work rather well as a ballet, but as an opera it suffers from a weak libretto, and in an excellent essay in the programme, Robert Thicknesse says Verdi thought it “the worst libretto I’ve ever seen”. The plot is roughly that Fritz, a wealthy young landowner in Alsace, is uninterested in marriage, and has never felt the pangs of love. He sees the pretty Suzel only as a friend, but David the Rabbi wants to marry Fritz off, and there are various Biblical quotes, such as that man is not meant to live alone. Eventually love is awakened and Fritz is distraught to learn that Suzel will marry someone else. We never see who that is, if he exists, but Fritz is now more than ready to declare his love … and they all lived happily ever after. Dull stuff for an opera, but lovely music, and some glorious singing.

Eric Margiore sang lyrically as Fritz, giving a fine soliloquy at the start of Act III. David Stephenson gave a strong portrayal of his friend David, the Rabbi, and Patricia Orr was terrific in the travesti role of Beppe, showing in Act III that he too had felt the anguish of love. One rather clever aspect of the production was that Beppe, a musician and protégé of Fritz, not only sings but plays a beautiful solo violin. The switch between singer and violinist is almost imperceptible, and I was surprised the violinist’s name wasn’t displayed in the programme. In fact it was Iwona Boesche, listed merely as the last of the First Violins. Both she and Patricia Orr were super, but the star of the evening was surely Anna Leese as Suzel. She is just 30 years old, so she presumably has a great career ahead of her, and I very much look forward to hearing here again.

The production by Annalese Miskimmon, with colourful designs by Nicky Shaw and lighting by Mark Jonathan, places things in the 1950s, with Fritz as a young developer. His office is clean, modern, well-organised, and he builds pretty homes in the country. Messy things like emotions are kept well away, at least for a while, but when the high moments come they’re worth waiting for.

Performances continue only until June 25, so call for tickets immediately — for more details click here.

Don Pasquale, Opera Holland Park, OHP, June 2011

Don Pasquale is Donizetti’s sixty-fourth opera, and one of his most successful. The title character is a wealthy but crotchety older man who disapproves of the marital choice of his nephew Ernesto. This young man wants to marry the high-spirited, youthful widow, Norina, so Pasquale has decided to take a young wife for himself, and disinherit Ernesto.

Dr. Malatesta and Don Pasquale, all photos Fritz Curzon

The production by Stephen Barlow sets the action in modern dress, complete with the odd mobile phone, and seems to portray Don P as the owner of a run-down, seaside fish and chip shop in England. Dr. Malatesta, friend to both Pasquale and Ernesto, sets him up with his “sister”, really Norina in disguise, and she goes to town spending his money and driving him crazy so that he’ll give up the idea of marriage, and accept Norina as his nephew’s new wife. The opera is partly based on Ben Johnson’s play The Silent Woman. But I was a bit perplexed as to how the owner of a fish and chip shop would have the money to hire masses of new servants in a brand new establishment, and found Norina’s demand that, “I want a Ferrari in the garage by tomorrow” a bit over the top. Yes, I’m sure it was meant to be that way, and the tackiness of her costume in Act III surely owes something to Covent Garden’s recent Anna Nicole, but in that opera the old man really was extremely wealthy, not the owner of a seafront fish and chip shop. I’m afraid I found it all a bit lacking in coherence, and not half as good as Stephen Barlow’s Don Giovanni for OHP last year.

Norina in Act III

Musically however, Richard Bonynge, conducting the City of London Sinfonia, gave a fine account of Donizetti’s delightful score, and was hugely supportive of the singers, particularly during the quartet in Act II. Donald Maxwell held the stage well as Pasquale, giving a strong rendering of the part — he’s always so good, even in secondary roles. And Colin Lee as Ernesto was superb — his soliloquy at the start of Act II was simply wonderful. This is a tenor who took over from Juan Diego Flores at Covent Garden two years ago as Almaviva in Il Barbieri and was the tenor in Covent Garden’s Turco last year — Holland Park did extremely well to get him. Richard Burkhard sang well as Dr. Malatesta, though I would have preferred a stronger stage presence. The fast duet between Malatesta and Pasquale in Act III was partly done as a music hall comedy routine between the two, with a walking stick and umbrella, but it went inevitably a little slowly, particularly at the point when Burkhard sang while standing on one leg, balancing an umbrella on his other foot — a quite remarkable feat! Norina was sung by Majella Cullagh, who did well as Queen Elizabeth I in Holland Park’s Roberto Devereux last year, but seemed mis-cast in the role of the pretty and flirtatious young widow. Her voice lacked the strength for the flexibility and charm this role needs.

Lighting by Mark Jonathan was very good, lending a romantic atmosphere to Act III, particularly in the way the new establishment was lit, and in the illumination of the two old fashioned street lights, both of which burst their bulbs at the end of the Pasquale-Malatesta duet in Act III — a nice touch.

Performances continue until June 24 — for more details click here.

Cinderella, Royal Ballet, Covent Garden, November 2010

One of the lovely things about Ashton’s Cinderella is the intermingling of the real world with the magical world. This makes it ideal for Christmas or Easter, when everyday life for many people is invested with a little magic.

Marianela Nuñez as Cinderella, photos by Tristram Kenton

Act I starts with poor Cinderella by the fire, and the party preparations of her ridiculous step-sisters. An old crone comes begging and the poor girl’s sympathy for her is rewarded when the old woman reappears . . . and the magic starts. One transformation follows another: the crone turns into a fairy godmother, she causes the house to disappear, and then ushers in the fairies of spring, summer, autumn and winter, with the sets transforming between each one. The soloists on this first night (Iohna Loots, Yuhui Choe, Samantha Raine and Hikaru Kobayashi) all did well, and Choe was outstandingly warm and musical as Summer. So many transformations in a single Act, yet there is one more to come as the pumpkin turns into a coach, which then takes a beautifully transformed Cinderella off to the ball.

Rupert Pennefather as the Prince

In Act II the real and magical worlds alternate, and Rupert Pennefather as the prince seems to inhabit both, as does Paul Kay as a brilliantly acrobatic jester. Those ugly sisters now reappear, and when Cinderella later comes on looking like a princess, Gary Avis as the taller sister casts an embarrassing glance at his own garish costume. He and Philip Mosley interacted superbly with one another as the sisters, and Avis was gloriously over the top without ever descending into pantomime or farce. The comic timing was perfect. On the magical side, Laura Morera was a lovely fairy godmother, and Marianela Nuñez was wonderful as Cinderella, both as a simple house-slave and as the queen of the ball — a true fairy-tale character.

This production by Wendy Somes contains some clever ideas such as the moon transforming into a clock in Act I when the fairy godmother warns that the spell will break at midnight, and then the clock in the ball scene — invisible from the Amphitheatre — shows itself in the lighting on the dance-floor so the whole audience can see it. The transformation of Cinderella’s clothes from a brilliant white tutu to rags is done in a split second, and the poor girl flees as the curtains close.

Paul Kay as the Jester

Act III again mixes the mundane and the magical, and some clever effects are achieved with Mark Jonathan’s lighting. I like the dappled pink effect in the auditorium during the overture, and the dappled white at the end, as the prince and his bride recede into the distance. For an evening of enchantment you won’t do better. Ashton’s choreography is magical — the fairy-tale entrance of Cinderella to the ball as she comes down the stairs en pointe in ethereal splendour, the brilliant asymmetry of the twelve stars … one could go on and on.

Prokofiev’s score was beautifully conducted by Pavel Sorokin, and further performances are scheduled for November 24, 27 and December 2, 3, 9, 13, 17, 21, 28, 29 and 31. Other dancers in the role of Cinderella are: Yuhui Choe, Roberta Marquez, Tamara Rojo and Lauren Cuthbertson — for more details click here, though tickets seem to be almost entirely sold out. If you miss it in 2010, another run of performances is arranged around the Easter period — April 7, 10, 12, 13, 16, 19, 23, 25, and May 3 and 6, but booking is not yet open.

La Forza del Destino, Holland Park Opera, OHP, August 2010

“Vengeance is mine”, saith the Lord, but the quest for revenge by the Calatrava family, personified by its son, Don Carlo, leads to deaths only in the family itself. In his dying throes, Carlo manages to kill his sister Leonora as she comforts him, but the person he most wanted to kill, namely his sister’s beloved Don Alvaro, lives on. Such is Alvaro’s fate, the power of fate being the theme of this opera, whose driving force is Verdi’s music.

The backdrop to Act III, all images OHP/ Fritz Curzon

I’ve always found it terrific stuff, and was delighted with the excellent musical direction by Stuart Stratford, whom I remember doing an equally fine job at Holland Park last summer with Katya Kabanova. Peter Auty was powerfully lyrical as Alvaro, and his soliloquy in Act III, when he pleads with an absent Leonora to pity his suffering, was superb. Mark Stone was a very strong Carlo, and the two of them together in Act III were wonderful. Gweneth-Ann Jeffers as Leonora was remarkable — she modulated her voice seamlessly from quiet passages to loud ones, and gave this role a powerful undertow of emotion. Among the other parts in this opera, Donald Maxwell was delightful as Fra Melitone, amusing, with perfect comic timing and a gloriously strong voice. No wonder I found him so good as the Major-Domo in Fille du Régiment at Covent Garden three months ago. Mikhail Svetlov sang well as Padre Guardiano, as did Carole Wilson as the gypsy Preziosilla, reminding me of her analogous role in Ballo last summer.

Alvaro holds the dying Leonora

The production by Martin Duncan works very well, with wonderful designs by Alison Chitty, whom I recall doing magical work for Birtwistle’s Minotaur at Covent Garden in April 2008. Here she did another piece of magic. Act III had a black cloth backdrop with chairs hanging in front, along with red cords stretching from floor to rafters at various angles. Lampshades hanging from the rafters were lit blue, and the chairs were projected onto the backdrop. Mark Jonathan’s dark lighting on this set produced the effect of a Kandinsky painting, which I thought entirely appropriate to the time in which the opera was set, namely early-mid twentieth century. Altogether this was a superbly designed production using little more than chairs as props — brilliant.

Congratulations to Opera Holland Park, a fitting production for this, the last night of their season.

Francesca da Rimini, Holland Park Opera, August 2010

When I first heard an excerpt from this opera I was entranced, and wondered why, at that time, there seemed to be no complete recording. The resounding brass in Act II followed by the heroic sound of the lovers Francesca and Paolo was riveting, and I’m delighted Holland Park has given us this opportunity of witnessing the whole thing on stage.

Francesca and Paolo, all images OHP/ Fritz Curzon

The composer, Riccardo Zandonai produced most of his compositions in the early twentieth century, this one in 1914 to a libretto by Tito Ricordi, closely based on the play Francesca da Rimini by Gabriele d’Annunzio. The real Francesca was a contemporary of Dante, and appears in his Inferno. The story is essentially that Francesca is to marry one of the Malatesta brothers, the lame Gianciotto. But she is first introduced to his brother Paolo, the beautiful, whom she believes to be her future husband, and they fall instantly in love. The third brother, Malatestino, the one-eyed, is obsessed with her and jealous of both his other brothers. He eventually realises she and Paolo are in love so he upsets the entire apple cart, leading to their death at the hands of Gianciotto.

Gianciotto and Malatestino

As Paolo, Julian Gavin sang with suitably amorous force, reminding me of his excellent Cavaradossi at the ENO recently. Jeffrey Black gave us a powerfully sung Gianciotto, and Jeffrey Lloyd-Roberts, whom I saw here last year as Tichon in Katya, was a convincing Malatestino. Cheryl Barker sang well as Francesca, though her acting was a bit wooden, but more on that when I deal with the direction. Anna Leese also did extremely well as Biancofiore, one of Francesca’s friends. From the pit came wonderful sounds, and the orchestra was conducted with great enthusiasm by Phillip Thomas.

There were two problems. Despite good designs by Jamie Vartan, and excellent lighting by Mark Jonathan, the direction by Martin Lloyd-Evans was weak. There was no coherence to the actions of the chorus, and Francesca seemed to adopt similar attitudes to all three men around her. In Act II she lets out a huge sound after apparently seeing Malatestino wounded, but she, like the chorus, is facing the audience and gives no indication of seeing anything special. The poor acting here must be laid partly at the foot of the director because I saw Cheryl Barker portray a wonderfully ghostly Miss Jessel in the ENO’s Turn of the Screw less than a year ago, and give a fine performance of the main role in The Makropulos Case in 2006. Those are rather odd roles of course, and as a young woman of flesh and blood I would have preferred to see a bit more life.

Paolo dies in her arms

The other problem is this opera itself. Zandonai was a very talented composer, whom Puccini favoured for completing Turandot, though his son Tonio vetoed the choice and it went to Alfano. In this opera there is no release from the tension in the music, so what ought to be wonderful moments are lost in the overall fabric, and there is no clear focus. Add to that a rather weak libretto by Ricordi, and it is understandable why the opera is not heard often. Nevertheless I very much applaud Opera Holland Park for putting it on, and am delighted to have seen it.

Performances continue until August 13 — for further information click here.