Eugene Onegin, Royal Opera, Covent Garden, February 2013

Artistic director Kasper Holten decided quite sensibly to take over the scheduled revival of an earlier production, and do something new. He was already endowed with some fine singers, so there were excellent performances here, including sympathetic conducting by Robin Ticciati.

Onegin, all imags ROH/ Bill Cooper

Simon Keenlyside sang strongly as Onegin though the production prevented him from giving a full portrayal of the character. His Tatyana was Krassimira Stoyanova, who sang powerfully, but the production curtailed her dramatic interpretation by having an actress/ dancer portray the emotive moments. No such problems for Pavol Breslik as Lensky, who sang superbly; I loved his sincere apology to Madame Larina after challenging Onegin to a duel while being her guest, and his soliloquy at the start of Part II before the duel brought the house down.

Among the secondary roles, Tatyana’s nurse Filippyevna was beautifully sung by Kathleen Wilkinson, Zaretsky (Lensky’s second) was strongly portrayed by bass Jihoon Kim, and Peter Rose delivered a stunning monologue as Prince Gremin. Glorious singing then from cast, and chorus too, and with eyes closed, like one man near me, it was wonderful.

The production itself was a bit too clever as the director plays with time, flashbacks, and a dream world. It all starts before the overture with the mature Tatyana showing silent grief, and Onegin appearing on stage during the overture. In Scene 1 when he and Lensky arrive at the house it is Onegin who enters first, and replaces a book in a cupboard he has never seen before. Then Onegin reappears in the letter scene, as he does in Cranko’s ballet Onegin, which the ROH is currently performing, and though Simon Keenlyside is one of the few top rate singers who can do ballet lifts, the choreography seemed unnecessarily melodramatic in an opera context.

Lensky

In the duel scene there are two Onegins, with Keenlyside as the mature one regretting the act, and an actor as the young one with a killer instinct. When Lensky is shot his body lies on stage for the rest of the opera, and in the final scene between Onegin and Tatyana, Prince Gremin appears as if in her imagination. Finally the young Tatyana and Onegin reappear as a bit of what-might-have-been, but to me a distraction.

Tatyana

Both Tatyanas wear a red dress throughout, with the mature one covered by a white ball gown in the last two scenes, and the chorus ladies in their voluminous black dresses reminded me of a Cromwellian Puritanism, which doesn’t seem to suit the story. The director has said part of his aim was to do it all on a tight budget, but in the past year I have seen enjoyably imaginative productions by Opera Holland Park and English Touring Opera, both of which work to very tight budgets.

As an opera director at Covent Garden, Kasper Holten has more to learn about sight-lines. Some of the action was entirely front stage-left and I met people who could not see it. Pity.

Performances continue until February 20 — for details click here.

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.

Macbeth, Royal Opera, Covent Garden, May 2011

In 1846, Verdi had to decide between Schiller’s Die Räuber, and Shakespeare’s Macbeth for a new commission in Florence. He produced both in 1847, with the Schiller (titled I masnadieri) going to London, and the Shakespeare to Florence, the choice depending on the singers available. Macbeth needed no leading tenor but it did need a first rate baritone and soprano, and here we had them both in Simon Keenlyside and Liudmyla Monastyrska.

Macbeth and his wife with a witch in the foreground, all photos by Clive Barda

She was a hugely powerful Lady Macbeth, her voice cutting through and soaring above the orchestra and all the other singers, including the chorus. Keenlyside by contrast has a wonderfully warm tone and superb ability to inhabit the roles he sings, but there was a lack of chemistry between the two of them on the first night. He seemed unnecessarily subdued, but after she dies in Act IV, his confessional Pietà, rispetto, amore in the next scene was superbly sung, giving us the Keenlyside I have admired so much in roles such as Rodrigo in Don Carlo.

As Banquo, Raymond Aceto was terrific, reminding me of his superb performance in last October’s Rigoletto as the murderer Sparafucile. In this production he is left lying at the front of the stage after being murdered in Act II, and his little son, Fleance reappears from hiding to go to his father’s body before fleeing the stage. The body remains there for the banquet scene, rising up when Macbeth sees the vision of Banquo’s ghost.

Guards by Duncan's body before Banquo's death

This production by Phyllida Lloyd contains several good ideas, and in the banquet scene both Macbeth and his wife are dressed in gold, reminding us of King Duncan at the start of the opera. The tall sets, and in Act III the appearance at stage rear of multiple golden kings on horses again reminiscent of Duncan, show that Macbeth is caught up in something far larger than he realises, and Keenlyside brought this over very well. The nature of his marriage is intimated by the beds on which he and his wife lie, and her problems are silently illustrated by the children the witches bring onstage to sit on the bed with her. We never quite know what to make of her earlier life and claim to have suckled a child, but this is a point of contact with that aspect of the play.

Macbeth and Macduff towards the end

Among the other performers Dimitri Pittas sang Macduff, a role he also sang in the Metropolitan Opera live relay in January 2008, and I admired Elisabeth Meister as the lady-in-waiting. The chorus was wonderfully strong, and Antonio Pappano conducted this early Verdi opera with a fine sense of energy and sensitivity.

I’ve not seen this production before, but I’m afraid I was somewhat underwhelmed, and not because of the singers. It’s difficult to say why, but for instance if you blinked you missed the murder of Macduff’s children, and the perpetual use of the witches as dark forces involved in the action — hiding Banquo’s son, for example — doesn’t seem to give the dramatic intensity that Verdi’s opera demands. This was his first Shakespeare opera and he was extremely concerned to get the drama right, bullying his librettist Piave to produce exactly the text he wanted, but somehow this production fails to bring out the right intensity of mood. However, it was huge pleasure to hear Liudmyla Monastyrska as Lady Macbeth, with her superb vocal technique, and her breathtaking power.

A live relay to cinemas will be given on June 13, and a BBC Radio 3 broadcast at 6 p.m. on Saturday, June 18. Performances continue until June 18 — for more details click here.

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.

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.