Ruddigore, Opera North, Barbican, November 2011

W. S. Gilbert, the librettist for this work, was a master of wit, not just on paper but spontaneously in conversation. When a neighbour referred admiringly to Ruddigore calling it Bloodygore, Gilbert objected, so the neighbour said: “Same thing isn’t it?” WSG was swift as a rapier, “If I admire your ruddy countenance, it doesn’t mean I like your bloody cheek, which I don’t”.

All images Robert Workman

There’s no blood in Ruddigore, but there is a ghostly episode after our hero, Robin has reluctantly accepted his real name of Sir Ruthven Murgatroyd, whose position as the Lord of Ruddigore gives him the accursed obligation of committing a crime a day. Failure to do so condemns him to death. His attempted crimes are rather inadequate, and in Act II ancestral paintings come to life to accuse him of failure. This pantomime-like episode was very well done, with excellent sets and lighting by Richard Hudson and Anna Watson. All seems lost, but the trick in the plot is that the honest Robin suddenly realises that failure to commit a crime is suicide, which itself is a crime …

Robin and Rose, just before the intervention

Robin was delightfully sung and portrayed by Grant Doyle, a versatile performer whom I last saw as a bearded Abraham in Clemency, a serious Biblical opera by James MacMillan. His beloved Rose Maybud was beautifully sung by Amy Freston whose body movements were those of a ballerina. She even did a small jeté en tournant at the end, and the sheer joy of her performance was a charm in itself. Robin’s foster-brother, Dick Dauntless was engagingly performed by Hal Cazalet, and the rest of the cast formed an excellent team around these three principals, including Heather Shipp as the Mad Margaret, Steven Page as the ancestral Sir Roderic, Richard Burkhard as the sly Sir Despard, and Anne-Marie Owens as Dame Hannah, all well directed by Jo Davies.

The ghosts of Ruddigore

Sullivan’s music was played with wit and enthusiasm under the direction of John Wilson, and it was a pleasure to see a performance of this lesser-known operetta from the Gilbert and Sullivan stable.

Performances at the Barbican continue until November 26 — for details click here.

Armida, Metropolitan Opera live relay, April 2010

Rossini composed Armida shortly after returning to Naples from great success at La Scala in Milan. That was where, following his new opera La Cenerentola in Rome, he created La Gazza Ladra (The Thieving Magpie) for the more sophisticated Milanese audience, and they loved it. Rossini could do no wrong, and arriving in Naples in August he found a new libretto waiting for him. Chosen by the reigning impresario Domenico Barbaia, who ran the newly rebuilt Teatro San Carlo, it was a rather fantastical work, not ideally suited to the composer’s tastes. Nevertheless he set to work with unusual conscientiousness, preparing a great soprano role for the company’s prima donna, Isabella Colbran, darling of the Neapolitan public, favourite of the king of Naples, and mistress of Barbaia. He experimented with new harmonies and modulations, but as Francis Toye has written, “he might have spared himself the trouble, for the Neapolitan critics judged the result to be ‘too German’, too learned altogether, disappointingly devoid of spontaneity. Nobody seems to have traced the responsibility to . . . its real cause — the incompetence of the librettist, a certain Schmitt”. This was Giovanni Schmitt, who based his work on the epic poem, La Gerusalemme liberata published in 1581 by Torquato Tasso, telling a fictionalised account of the first Crusade.

Renée Fleming as Armida with the knights in Act I, photo Ken Howard/Metropolitan Opera

Armida herself is a sorceress whose seductiveness creates confusion and divisiveness between the knights when she enters their encampment. She persuades a group of knights to leave with her to recover her lost kingdom, and in the original story turns them into animals, like Circe in Homer’s Odyssey. She intends to kill the leading knight, Rinaldo, but falls in love with him, and in the opera he alone escapes with her, after killing one of the other knights. They enter her magic realm and sing of their love for one another, but this comes to an end in Act III when two knights, Carlo and Ubaldo find their way into Armida’s magical garden to bring Rinaldo back to his military role. When they show him his new effeminacy reflected in a shield, he feels ashamed and is persuaded to regain his mettle and flee with them. Armida tries to restrain him, but loses. She is then faced with a choice between two figures, Love and Revenge. She chooses the latter, destroys her pleasure palace, and flies off in a rage.

Renée Fleming and Lawrence Brownlee in Act II, photo Ken Howard/Metropolitan Opera

This bel-canto opera needs a really first-rate soprano, and Maria Callas sang the title role in a 1952 revival. Renée Fleming performed it in 1993 at the Rossini festival in Pesaro, and again in this new production for the Met. She sings here with consummate skill and brilliant characterisation, very ably supported by Lawrence Brownlee as Rinaldo. The knights Carlo and Ubaldo who rescue Rinaldo from Armida’s clutches were well sung by Barry Banks and Kobie van Rensburg, and the former also sang strongly as a knight named Gernando whom Rinaldo killed in a duel in Act I. John Osborn sang the role of Goffredo, a knight who persuades the company to support Armida, and Keith Miller gave an admirable portrayal of Astarotte, the prince of darkness in Armida’s realm.

Act III, photo: Ken Howard/Metropolitan Opera

The production by Mary Zimmerman, with set and costume designs by Richard Hudson, shows Rossini’s original three act version, complete with a ballet in Act II. There is plenty of choreography in one form and another, along with frequent reappearances of the two characters Revenge and Love, the former portrayed by a tattooed man with a fine physique, and the latter as a girl in red dress. As often the case in relatively early operas these days, the sets showed clean lines and bright colours. I’m delighted the Met has broadcast this fine production of a little-known opera, conducted here by Riccardo Frizza, and I only wish their information sheets contained a more complete cast list. For example in this opera, Keith Miller who sang the bass role of Astarotte, and was interviewed by Deborah Voigt in the second intermission, was not listed.

Tamerlano, Royal Opera, February 2010

The elephant with Renata Pokupic as Irene: Royal Opera photo by Catherine Ashmore

The title character in this Handel opera is the great conqueror Timur from Central Asia, who has captured the Ottoman Sultan Bajazet and his daughter Asteria. The opera was first produced in London in 1724, the same year Handel wrote Giulio Cesare, about another great conqueror, and both works involve court intrigues. In this one, Tamerlano is betrothed to Irene, Princess of Trebizond, but becomes obsessed by his captive, Asteria, and wants to marry her. She in turn is in love with the Greek prince Andronico, who serves Tamerlano, and though Bajazet thinks his daughter is happy to marry Tamerlano, she really intends to kill him. By the time Tamerlano gets over his obsession and takes pleasure in his betrothed Irene, after three long Acts, Bajazet has committed suicide and Asteria has gone off-stage to do likewise.

The music, though lovely, is very static, but Graham Vick’s production deals with this using slow stylized movements of the courtiers, and very clear designs by Richard Hudson. These are mainly black and white, except for a gloriously colourful elephant bearing Irene to the court, and attractively coloured costumes for Tamerlano.

Stotijn as Tamerlano and Mingardo as Andronico: Royal Opera photo by C Ashmore

The singing is the main thing and this was a treat. In the cinema screening of this same production from Madrid in October 2008, Domingo was Bajazet, and he was scheduled to perform the same role here. Unfortunately he was unavailable, but his replacement, Kurt Streit sang it superbly — one could not have asked for better. Tamerlano was portrayed by Christianne Stotijn who sang with spirit, but little emotive power, and the princesses Asteria and Irene were wonderfully sung by Christine Schäfer and Renata Pokupic. As Andronico we had Sara Mingardo, who sang the same role in Madrid, but here her voice in the dress rehearsal lacked colour — perhaps she was not singing out and it will be better in the regular performances. Finally, Vito Priante in the bass role of the male courtier Leone was extremely good. The singers and orchestra came together well under the baton of Ivor Bolton, in what I suppose is a largely uncut score. Personally I would have been happy with a few cuts, and though I can imagine Handel loyalists being horrified by my philistinism I find the music to this opera rather dolorous and repetitive, and the whole performance, with intervals, lasts four and a half hours.

Goldberg, The Brandstrup-Rojo project, Royal Opera House, Linbury Studio, September 2009

This was a new work by Danish choreographer Kim Brandstrup to Bach’s Goldberg Variations, played on the piano by Philip Gammon, with some parts pre-recorded by Henry Roche. There were seven dancers: Tamara Rojo, Steven McRae and Thomas Whitehead from the Royal Ballet, along with Clara Barbera, Laura Caldow, Tommy Franzen and Riccardo Meneghini. Things started slowly with Tamara Rojo in a black dress and pointe shoes, McRae sitting next to Philip Gammon on the piano, and then getting up to climb a very tall ladder. Gradually the dance warmed up, with a mixture of ballet and ‘street dancing’. Among the four cast members not in the Royal Ballet, Tommy Franzen was brilliantly musical and wonderfully acrobatic, looking like a slightly undersized teenager in his baggy pants, but what a dancer! His occasional partnering of Rojo was very well done, and his musicality shone through, both in his solos and his dancing with the others. Clara Barbera was also excellent, part of the time on pointe and part in bare feet. McRae was musical as usual, and his solos were expertly danced. Rojo too inhabited the music brilliantly, her stage presence was excellent and she came over strongly as the star of the show. As the variations progressed, things seemed to drag a little and I waited for a climax that never came. The momentum slowed and everything wound down, but without seeming to go anywhere.

Costumes were black for Rojo, McRae and Whitehead, grey for the others, and the lighting by Paule Constable was subdued throughout. It showed occasional white lines against a dark background, giving a sense of geometric design, which was presumably the idea of designer Richard Hudson. The designs and lighting worked well, and Philip Gammon’s piano performance was excellent. This is definitely worth a visit to see the eclectic style of choreography, and the dancing of Rojo, McRae, and Franzen.

Tamerlano, live cinema screening from Madrid, October 2008

This typical Handel opera is a marvellous vehicle for the singers, and the music is a delight, though the plot is nonsense. Tamerlano is in love with Asteria, daughter of the Ottoman Sultan Bajazet, both of whom are his prisoners, but Asteria and the Greek prince Andronico are in love, and so as long as Tamerlano can get over his obsession, avoid being killed by Asteria, and take pleasure in his betrothed Irene, all might be well. It takes three acts to get there, but in the meantime we are treated to some excellent singing. Placido Domingo was wonderful as Bajazet, full of emotion and determination, and Monica Bacelli was superb as Tamerlano, looking and acting the part in the way Handel surely intended. Her several costumes were a knockout, and colourful costumes were one of the delights of this production. They contrasted well with the spare white staging dominated by a large white globe under a huge foot, along with the black costumes of the courtiers. We have Richard Hudson as designer to thank for all this, and Graham Vick for his excellent direction. He has given us, or rather the Royal Opera in Madrid, a superb production. Asteria was well performed and sung by Ingela Bohlin, Andronico equally well performed by Sara Mingardo, and Irene by Jennifer Holloway. Apart from Domingo, a further male voice from Luigi De Donato, as chief courtier, helped the contrast, and this was a gloriously colourful and well judged performance, excellently conducted by Paul McCreesh.