Timon of Athens, National Theatre, NT Olivier, August 2012

Timon is a tragic figure who fails utterly to understand himself, and therefore cannot come close to understanding others. His vast wealth is from lands he owns and mortgages, and he spends it eagerly on his acquaintances along with others come to him for help. When there is no more left he abandons the city, and then chances upon hidden treasure that he also gives away. From loving the people around him, whom he mistakenly regards as friends, he learns to hate everyone, and Simon Russell Beale gives a riveting portrait of this absurd person.

Timon entertains, all images NT/ Johan Persson

The production by Nicholas Hytner sets Shakespeare’s play in a modern city with high-rise banks visible through a huge window. We see the Timon Room in an Art Gallery paid for by his largesse, but the counterpoint to his lavish generosity is embodied in the cynic philosopher Apemantus, well portrayed by Hilton McRae. He criticises everyone and everything, as when he tackles the poet who has received generous payment from Timon and considers him a worthy fellow, “Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for thy labour: he that loves to be flattered is worthy o’ the flatterer”.

Timon and Apemantus

They all flatter Timon, but when he finds himself in financial difficulties no-one will help. There is a sub-plot with a man named Alcibiades, warm-hearted and impulsive, who would have helped Timon, but is in exile. He raises a small force, takes the city and comes to terms with its leaders, but by the time Timon could be welcomed back the now-wretched man is dead. Alcibiades never quite comes over as sincere in this production, unlike Timon himself, but that is the magic of Simon Russell Beale.

Timon and the treasure

Magic too appears in Bruno Poet’s lighting and the striking dichotomy of the flourishing city and the arid concrete exterior, expressed in Tim Hatley’s designs. This play nearly vanished completely from the record, and is rarely performed, so go to see it but do not expect too much. It is hardly King Lear.

Performances continue until November 1 — for details click here.

Xerxes, English Touring Opera, ETO, Britten Theatre, Royal College of Music, October 2011

Power and youthful passion are grist to the mill of Handel’s plots, and James Conway’s production is set on a World War II air base with Xerxes as the new ruler, whose enthusiasm for the Spitfire is matched by his infatuation for the lovely wartime nurse and singer Romilda. His brother, fighter pilot Arsamenes, is also in love with Romilda, and she and her younger sister Atalanta, both in love with Arsamenes themselves, are daughters of the military scientist Ariodates. His new bomb very nearly bounces on the stage when Xerxes grabs it in Act III, whooshing it around out of the grip of its inventor as if it were the great egg in Firebird, holding the heart of this ‘Barnes Wallis’-like magician.

Xerxes and Spitfire, all photos Richard Hubert Smith

Fantastical stuff, but using Nicholas Hytner’s modern translation it works rather well, and the singers shine with youthful energy. Jonathan Peter Kenny drives it all forward from the orchestra pit, and Julia Riley as Xerxes sings with wonderful clarity, portraying the king as a sleek-haired, pipe-smoking man who is quite sure of his own mind, yet rather facile in his passions. Rachael Lloyd sings with equal clarity as the foreign princess Amastris, who is promised to Xerxes, and her appearance as one of the foreign pilots seems entirely natural.

Arsamenes with Atalanta and Romilda

Setting the action in Britain, rather than Italy, Persia, or anywhere else, suits a composer who made England his home, and the backdrop showing part of the East Anglian coastline served the production well, imbued as it was with subtle changes of lighting, from reds to greens and blues. Along with occasional aircraft sounds and projections of their silhouettes, this simple production is a very effective backdrop for the singers, whose performances were of uniformly high standard. Laura Mitchell sang beautifully as Romilda, and she and Paula Sides as her sister Atalanta both gave fine performances, as did Andrew Slater, who was entirely convincing as their father the military scientist. Nicholas Merryweather added a distinctly disreputable touch as the rain-coated Elviro who flashes his ‘stockings from Paris’ to the ladies, and Clint van der Linde was a suitably masculine counter-tenor as the king’s brother Arsamenes.

Handel cognoscenti may regret some of the cuts, but the youthful energy of the singers gives a sense of urgency to the performance, bringing on the dénouement with admirable despatch. Romilda and Amastris are finally united with the men they love, and the world can move on — after all, there’s a war going on.

After a further performance at the Britten Theatre on Oct 13, Xerxes tours to: Buxton Opera House, Oct 21; West Road Concert Hall, Cambridge, Oct 26; Lincoln Theatre Royal, Oct 31; Harrogate Theatre, Nov 5; Snape Maltings, Nov 12; Exeter Northcott, Nov 18, 19; Malvern Theatres, Nov 24, 25.

Don Carlo, Metropolitan Opera live relay, December 2010

When it was over the man sitting next to me said, “It doesn’t get any better than this”, and indeed it was a superb performance of what is arguably Verdi’s greatest opera. The story is based on historical characters, though as Verdi himself said, “Nothing in the drama is historical, but it contains a Shakespearean truth and profundity of characterization”.

All photos by Ken Howard/Metropolitan Opera

It’s a human drama of huge proportions, and Ferruccio Furlanetto in the central role of Philip II of Spain showed to perfection the king’s isolated uncertainty and emotional distress. His soliloquy at the start of Act IV was brilliantly expressive. Here is the most powerful ruler in the world, yet he bows to the power of the Church, embodied in the Grand Inquisitor, a blind priest who exudes furious certainty that the deaths of ‘heretics’ and potential rebels fulfils God’s glorious purpose. Eric Halfvarson sang that role very strongly, approving Philip’s hesitant plan to kill his own son Don Carlo, but then demanding the king yield him his trusted advisor, Rodrigo, Marquis of Posa. He was brilliantly sung by Simon Keenlyside whose portrayal of the role is unsurpassable in its sincerity and nobility. The king refuses but has Rodrigo killed later, yet regrets it immediately after. At this point, as Furlanetto sang, “Chi rende a me quell’uom?” (Who will restore to me this man?), I thought immediately of England’s medieval king Henry II and his reaction to the murder of Thomas à Becket. This is powerful stuff by Verdi, and of course Schiller on whose play this opera is based.

Rodrigo and the King

Fortunately this was the five-act version, giving us in Act I the initial encounter between Elisabeth de Valois and Don Carlo in the forest of Fontainebleau. Marina Poplavskaya sang Elisabeth most beautifully, with wonderfully soft high notes, amply showing her vulnerability and strength. She is perfect for this role, which she sang on both the last occasions I’ve seen the opera, at Covent Garden in 2008 and 2009. Roberto Alagna gave an intense and spirited portrayal of Don Carlo, singing with great power and conviction. One feels enormous sympathy for these two young people who are betrothed to one another, yet whose love is proscribed immediately after their first meeting. Philip II decides to take Elisabeth as his wife, rather than let her marry his son, Don Carlo, and though the intensity of their love may be dramatic licence, it’s a historical fact that Carlos died young, as did Elisabeth, who was so distraught at his death that she cried for two days. The myth of their undying love is only aided by their graves in the Escurial lying side by side.

Elisabeth and Don Carlo

This opera has major roles for six principals, the sixth being Princess Eboli who was strongly sung by Anna Smirnova. The machinations of this mendaciously jealous woman are a key to the plot, but why do directors always make her look so unattractive? Her dresses with their lace sleeves were extremely unflattering, yet in real life she was a beautiful woman — and in the opera she’s having an affair with the king for goodness sake. Apart from this one quibble I love Nicholas Hytner’s production with set and costume designs by Bob Crowley — the same production as at Covent Garden. It gives a fine sense of the stateliness of the Spanish throne as well as leaving ample space for the human drama, and the burning of the heretics in the auto da fé scene is a dramatic sight.

The chorus sang powerfully, and among the minor roles, Layla Claire was excellent as the page Tebaldo. The orchestra gave a wonderful rendering of the score under the direction of Yannick Nézet-Séguin whose conducting was simply superb.

The Habit of Art, National Theatre, December 2009

This new play by Alan Bennett shows actors rehearsing a new play about W.H.Auden. The key scene is when Benjamin Britten arrives to consult Auden about his forthcoming opera Death in Venice.  That places the action in 1972, since the opera was first produced in 1973 — I remember it well. It also provides a focus for the homosexuality that is a key element in this drama. Thomas Mann’s novella Death in Venice involves the middle-aged writer Gustav von Aschenbach, who is erotically drawn to a boy named Tadzio. There is no sex, only a desire that becomes an obsession, but the desire is a metaphor representing Britten’s own yearnings for boys, which is contrasted with Auden’s indelicate habits and use of rent boys. The juxtaposition of Auden and Britten shows the horribly uptight Britten bringing out the best in Auden, who encourages him and offers to edit or rewrite Myfanwy Piper’s libretto. This warmth and enthusiasm shows another side of Auden, whose character is wonderfully portrayed by Richard Griffiths.

Alex Jennings plays Britten, and both he and Griffiths also play the roles of actors rehearsing these creative men with their habit of art, and in Jennings’ case his role as a somewhat camp and homosexually-knowing actor contrasts with his clever representation of Britten’s careful correctness. Elliot Levey portrays the supposed author of the play they are rehearsing, showing confused irritation at the actors’ attempts to alter the script, including Adrian Scarborough’s effort to interpose a song and dance routine. He plays the role of Humphrey Carpenter and is frustrated at being merely a device, but that, and the occasional frustration of actors forgetting lines, are dealt with by Kay, the stage manager who keeps it all going, despite the unexpected absence of the director. She is brilliantly played by Frances de la Tour, and I only wonder whether this delightful fancy of a rehearsal within a play would work as well with less gifted actors. As it is, the direction by Nicholas Hytner gives an excellent forward movement to Bennett’s text. This is theatre about theatre, a play about a play, and an exploration about homosexual boundaries in a world that wasn’t sure where it wanted those boundaries drawing. But in the end it’s a play about Auden, Britten and indeed Bennett himself, and as usual his dialogue is wonderfully effective.

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.

Phèdre, National Theatre, June 2009

This play by Racine, originally performed in 1677, was presented here in a 1998 version by Ted Hughes, originally staged just weeks before he died. The story is based on the ancient Greek legend of Hippolytus, who was the object of unremitting desire by his father’s wife, Phaedra. In the Greek original, well expressed in Euripedes’ play Hippolytus, the young man is a devotee of the chaste goddess Artemis (Diana in the Roman version), and Aphrodite takes revenge against his rejection of erotic love by inspiring his step-mother with insatiable desire for him. His father Theseus, king of Athens, and of Minotaur fame, believes Hippolytus has forced himself on Phaedra, and calls down a curse from Poseidon. Only after the curse has taken effect, and Hippolytus has been killed by a bull-like monster from the sea, does Theseus realise his error. Racine’s main change to this legend is the creation of a new character, Aricia with whom Hippolytus is secretly in love, and she with him. This removes the misogyny from Hippolytus, and since Aricia is the daughter of an earlier king of Athens, it creates a political dimension. The other important difference is that Euripedes has Phaedra commit suicide after writing a note accusing Hippolytus of rape, whereas in Racine the accusation comes from Phaedra’s nurse while her mistress still lives.

In this performance, Phaedra was played by Helen Mirren, portraying an insecure woman only too conscious of her own inadequacies. Her stepson Hippolytus was played by Dominic Cooper, calm and secure in his own feelings, and her husband Theseus was powerfully played by Stanley Townsend, roaring his anger at Hippolytus and summoning Poseidon to avenge him. These three made a strong cast of principals, well supported by Margaret Tyzack as Phaedra’s scheming nurse, Ruth Negga as a sincere Aricia, and John Shrapnel as Hippolytus’ counsellor, whose speech describing the young man’s fearful death was very dramatically rendered. In fact this superb Nicholas Hytner production, with designs by Bob Crowley, lighting by Paule Constable, and an excellent sound score by Adam Cork, ends dramatically with Aricia dragging the dead remains of Hippolytus in a bleeding sack from stage rear to stage front. The broad trail of blood on the clean wooden stage is very effective.

Magic Flute, English National Opera, January 2009

This 1988 production by Nicholas Hytner works very well indeed. The large-scale designs by Bob Crowley are wonderful: a huge curved wall that opens at a jagged join, Egyptian hieroglyphs standing out on white marble walls and cut into a bronze backdrop, superb gowns embossed with hieroglyphs for Sarastro’s priests, and wonderful lighting designed by Nick Chelton. The star of the show was Roderick Williams as a wonderfully engaging Papageno in superb voice. His appearance in a bird costume set the scene for his future antics, and the real birds landing on his birdcage only added to the charm of this production. As Pamina we had Sarah-Jane Davies in Act I, replaced by Mairéad Buicke in Act II, who sang well, but with more vibrato than I would like. Robert Lloyd was a fine Sarastro, with strong stage presence, Robert Murray a rather emotionless Tamino, and Emily Hindrichs a queen of the night with strong if somewhat screechy coloratura. Amanda Forbes was Papagena, and Stuart Kale a suitably nasty Monostatos, who evidently took delight in the booing he attracted at the end. The orchestra played beautifully under the direction of Erik Nielsen, who seemed to be enjoying himself immensely.