Ruth Elleson's Letters from London 2005

January 

Turandot at the Royal Opera House: Vladimir Galouzine as Calaf in Act I Photo: Bill Cooper

With the music scene still slow after the Christmas and New Year break, this month yielded only a new staging of an oratorio at English National Opera and revivals of two of the Royal Opera’s best-known productions.

Like most of the UK companies, English National Opera is commemorating the centenary of the birth of Sir Michael Tippett, one of Britain’s finest 20th-century composers. While some of his operas are on show elsewhere in the UK - notably The Knot Garden at Scottish Opera, and early next season, The Midsummer Marriage at Covent Garden - English National Opera chose instead to stage his oratorio, A Child of Our Time, written in response to the atrocity of Kristallnacht.

ENO’s repertoire of staged oratorios is growing, and in some respects there seems to be a ‘house style’ developing, despite this being director Jonathan Kent’s company debut. The black-clad chorus milled around the stage in a manner reminiscent of the Verdi Requiem staging of December 2000. They made a particularly fine ensemble sound, especially in the well-known traditional spirituals for which this work is best known, but at times seemed to be poorly directed. The stage drama was played out by mute actors, shadowed by the four vocal soloists in a Jungian fashion. Of these singers, mezzo Sara Fulgoni was the most impressive, though Susan Gritton’s soaring anguish as the Mother was well-judged, and Timothy Robinson (in the title role) and Brindley Sherratt made strong contributions. Martyn Brabbins also coaxed a coherent, articulated performance from the orchestra.

A Child of Our Time at the English National Opera: Susan Gritton (soprano) Photo: Neil Libbert

The principal failing of Kent’s production was a general sense of indirection and clutter, on a stage full of people with various objects (blades, lightbulbs) being lowered from above whenever a point required illustration. I have been impressed by ENO’s similar projects in the past, but at this performance I found myself switching off from the visual stimuli about halfway through, and realising that as long as the music is well-performed, a concert performance is all an oratorio requires.

There were just two scheduled performances. Perhaps the management underestimated the popularity of Tippett - the performances both sold out far in advance, and all possible standing room (only used in an overflow situation) was occupied. For anybody who failed to get in, there was another opportunity to hear the piece, if not see it, when the company gave their services for free at a special performance at St Paul’s Cathedral in aid of UNICEF’s contribution to the tsunami relief appeal.

Turandot at the Royal Opera House: Hei-Kyung Hong as Liù and Peter Rose as Timur Photo: Bill Cooper

At the Royal Opera House, Andrei Serban’s colourful, stylised production of Turandot may be twenty years old but it is still a visual and theatrical treat, especially with the right cast. In the current revival, the first of two casts made a bold assault on the challenges of Puccini’s (and Alfano’s) score.

With a convincing stage persona and a tireless, laser-bright soprano, Andrea Gruber was a satisfying Turandot. Vladimir Galouzine may not have a command of legato or many other musical instincts, but his voice is innately thrilling and he delivered the goods. Most notably, Hei-Kyung Hong’s world-renowned Liù finally made it to the London production and lived up to all expectations, singing with phrasing which was quite stunningly beautiful and never overdone, alongside Peter Rose’s deeply-felt Timur.

Turandot: Vladimir Galouzine as Calaf and Andrea Gruber in the title role Photo: Bill Cooper

There was a certain energy lacking from this revival, and for that I place the blame with Ping, Pang and Pong, two of whom were new to the roles (Quentin Hayes sang Ping in the previous revival; Andrew Kennedy and James Edwards are both currently training with the company’s Vilar Young Artists scheme). There was simply not enough physical activity or ensemble comedy. Perhaps it was the way they were directed, but to their credit they were a fine vocal ensemble.

Mark Elder gave a predictably exciting and driven account of the score, and the chorus and orchestra made the best of one of their biggest showcases. The children’s chorus (from Trinity School, Croydon) was above average, and the minor roles were excellently cast, especially Francis Egerton’s Emperor Altoum, which he has sung in this production too many times to count.

La traviata at the Royal Opera House: Gerald Finley as Germont, Charles Castronovo as Alfredo, Norah Amsellem as Violetta, Gillian Knight as Annina and Graeme Broadbent as Grenvil in Act III Photo: Catherine Ashmore

Also at the Royal Opera House, a notable company debut was made by the French soprano Norah Amsellem in La traviata. Sopranos who can carry off the whole role of Violetta with equal style and musicality are rare indeed, and I realised very early in my opera-going history that faced with a choice, I would rather have a fine lyric-voiced singing actress who can excel in the middle and last acts than an Act One canary. Amsellem fell firmly into my preferred category. There was an unpleasant shrillness in her first-act scena (she should have refrained from that high E flat) and she had a tendency to curdle her vowels, especially in the more conversational passages. But she gained dramatic conviction in Act 2, and finished up with one of the finest performances I’ve ever seen of the last act; with her voice reduced to a thread but supported by wonderful breath control, the musical performance alone became heartbreaking. It helps of course that her looks - beautiful, elegant, fragile and definitely Gallic - are undeniably perfect for this role. Charles Castronovo’s elegant Alfredo was on the light side vocally, and had a tendency to drift sharp, but generally acquitted himself adequately; Gerald Finley’s Germont was a completely believable character portrait, sung with a rich fullness of tone which seemed to bring the best out in his fellow cast members.

Richard Eyre’s production, now ten years old, has always had an unwelcome sense of distance to it; an air of expensive gloss where its heart should be. Here, in the hands of revival director Patrick Young and this cast of capable actors, it finally seemed to make some sense. The great second act exchange between Violetta and Germont generated pathos and anger, and for once, Eyre’s ending was convincing. Maurizio Benini conducted stylishly, with real sensitivity for the opera’s extreme emotions which occasionally manifested themselves as extremes of tempo. It says a lot for the quality of two-thirds of the evening that the deficiencies of the early stages of the performance were barely memorable by the end of it.

La traviata: Charles Castronovo as Alfredo and Gerald Finley as Germont (left), Norah Amsellem as Violetta, and Charles Castronovo as Alfredo (right) Photo: Catherine Ashmore

The main operatic event of next month is undoubtedly the Barbican visit by Valery Gergiev and the Kirov Opera, including performances of Rimsky-Korsakov’s The Legend of the Invisible City of Kitezh, a Stravinsky double bill of Les noces and Oedipus Rex, and Shostakovich’s The Nose. I will be taking a break from the Royal Opera as their season continues with a revival of Die Zauberflöte. David McVicar’s long-awaited production of La clemenza di Tito opens at English National Opera, where I will also see a revival of Il barbiere di Siviglia and, at last, The Pirates of Penzance. In a double bill with Cavalleria rusticana, Chelsea Opera Group will mount a concert performance of Puccini’s little-known second opera, Le villi, though regrettably I will be unable to cover it due to a clash with the Kirov. Finally, a revival of Carmen will pull in the coach parties at the Royal Albert Hall.

© Ruth Elleson, 3 February 2005

February 

The Pirates of Penzance at the English National Opera: Richard Suart as Major-General Stanley and ensemble singing 'Hail, poetry' at the end of Act I Photo: Clive Barda

Two of London’s key musical institutions announced new chiefs of music this month, putting an end to prolonged speculation. Oleg Caetani will,be English National Opera’s new Music Director, while the BBC Symphony Orchestra’s new Chief Conductor will be Jiri Belohlavek, the Janacek specialist and conductor of Glyndebourne’s memorable Tristan und Isolde in 2003. Both conductors will take up their positions in 2006 - Belohlavek in time for the first night of the 2006 Proms, and Caetani at the beginning of ENO’s 2006/07 season.

La clemenza di Tito at the English National Opera: Emma Bell as Vitellia (left) and Sarah Connolly as Sesto Photo: Laurie Lewis

English National Opera’s finest cast of the current season was to be found in a new production of La clemenza di Tito, a co-production with the Royal Danish Opera where it has already been seen. Both Sarah Connolly’s impassioned, subtly-coloured Sesto and Emma Bell’s huge-toned, neurotic Vitellia were star turns of truly remarkable quality. Paul Nilon’s Tito was vocally mellifluous though his stage presence was not as assertive as it should have been. Stephanie Marshall’s Annio and, in her house debut, Sally Matthews’s Servilia were rich and plangent of voice. Musical excellence was the order of the day all around, with Roland Böer’s conducting supplying, in turn, both gravitas and lightness of touch.

La clemenza di Tito: Sally Matthews as Servilia and Stephanie Marshall as Annio Photo: Laurie Lewis

The director David McVicar is currently so much in vogue in the UK that at one point a couple of years ago he had four shows at London’s two main opera houses, one on the Glyndebourne tour, and an off-West End play running in the space of a single season. Known for his blackly ironic theatricality, his productions are almost always un-missable and I was therefore intrigued to see what he might be able to bring to what I have always considered a rather difficult opera.

La clemenza di Tito: Paul Nilon as Tito Photo: Laurie Lewis

Indeed, the visuals of the production had obviously been given a great deal of thought. The chorus sang from the pit, so that only the principals (each a very strongly-drawn character) and dancers were seen on stage. Movements were very simple, with a beautiful, fluid quality, and there was nothing to distract the eye unnecessarily. The set consisted of a clever assemblage of curved screens set into grooves on a revolve, sliding in and out of formation to create different spatial and lighting effects. And in typical McVicar fashion, there was a sense of darkness and foreboding throughout.

La clemenza di Tito: Paul Nilon as Tito Photo: Laurie Lewis

The problem I had with it was just this. In opera seria a visual distraction, or rather a visual illustration, can be vital. I had counted on McVicar to invigorate the piece; to give it some theatrical vitality by externalising some of its psychological themes. This did not happen, and although I left the theatre feeling that I had witnessed a great musical performance, I found that its theatrical element left me rather cold.

The Pirates of Penzance at the English National Opera: the chorus with Fiona Canfield as Isabel, Doreen Curran as Kate and Julianne de Villiers as Edith Photo: Clive Barda

Over the winter - the time of year when people who rarely go to shows often decide to treat themselves, and parents consider taking their children on a theatre trip - English National Opera staged The Pirates of Penzance, a production imported from the Lyric Opera of Chicago and conducted by Mark Shanahan. I finally got to see this show two nights from the end of the run.

It was, regrettably, a disappointment from start to finish. It appeared to be a one-joke show - a send-up of the ludicrous synchronised dance routines, cardboard sets and cheap laughs often found at the lower end of the amateur operatic society spectrum, or possibly at the end of Brighton Pier. The costumes were ridiculous. The jokes were self-conscious. It was no reflection on this company’s ability to do Gilbert and Sullivan justice.

The Pirates of Penzance: chorus with Fiona Canfield as Isabel, Doreen Curran as Kate and Julianne de Villiers as Edith Photo: Clive Barda

The majority of the cast either should not have been singing their roles at all, or should have been doing them in a far smaller house. Principal culprit was Karl Daymond, who crooned his way through the role of the Pirate King in a voice that sounded absolutely shot to pieces. Mark Wilde’s Frederic was underpowered. As Ruth, Jean Rigby was not the weighty contralto needed for a very low-lying role in a large theatre. Richard Suart played, well, Richard Suart, as usual (he was, of course, Major-General Stanley). Victoria Joyce’s Mabel was very sweet of voice, but short on volume and stage charisma.

As the Sergeant of Police, Peter Rose was the only major principal to make any impression. It was otherwise left to those singing the minor roles – and believe me, there was some luxury casting on this front – to salvage something from the performance. Indeed, Julianne de Villiers as Edith, Doreen Curran as Kate and Stephen Gadd as Samuel all did exceptionally well but were wasted in such unpromising surroundings.

Il barbiere di Siviglia at the English National Opera: Charles Workman as Almaviva and Robert Pomakov as Basilio Photo: Robert Workman

Jonathan Miller’s attractive and often hilarious production of Il barbiere di Siviglia is a sure-fire winner whenever it is played at the Coliseum, and the latest revival was no exception.

The masterful operatic comedian Andrew Shore returned to dominate the cast as Bartolo, while the rising star Mark Stone displayed considerable panache and rich tone as Figaro. Alison Roddy has improved since she last sang the role of Rosina, and though some richer chest tones would have been desirable, her polished and sure-footed coloratura was undeniably attractive. As Basilio, Robert Pomakov was enthusiastic but mustered neither the menace nor the vocal reserves of many of his predecessors in this production. The comprimario casting, particularly William Berger’s Fiorello and Mary Lloyd-Davies’s Berta, was possibly the strongest I’ve ever heard. Dominic Wheeler’s conducting was brisk and lively.

The only weakness was Charles Workman’s Almaviva. His tenor – larger and rounder than I have become accustomed to hearing in this role – lacked agility and was decidedly rough around the edges. Coupled with wooden acting, it was difficult to see how Rosina could have been seduced by his ardent serenades.

Il barbiere di Siviglia: Mary Lloyd-Davies as Berta, Alison Roddy as Rosina, Charles Workman as Almaviva, Mark Stone as Figaro, Andrew Shore as Bartolo and Robert Pomakov as Basilio Photo: Robert Workman

A feast of Russian opera and choral music was on offer when Valery Gergiev - who will conduct a complete Shostakovich symphony cycle here next season - brought the orchestra, chorus and soloists of the Mariinsky Theatre to the Barbican for a very welcome visit. This marked the 10th anniversary of the company’s first London concert. The performance on that occasion was Rimsky-Korsakov’s The Legend of the Invisible City of Kitezh, so fittingly is was this which opened this year’s mini concert series.

I was unfamiliar with the piece, and it soon became clear that its core Russian sensibilities are virtually overshadowed by the composer’s obvious obsession with the works of Wagner. There is a scene in a forest à la Siegfried, with familiar-sounding atmospheric orchestral writing and not one but two Woodbirds (one sounding rather like Wagner’s; the other an Erda-substitute). These “forest murmurs” are followed by a passage sounding suspiciously like magic fire music. Earlier in the opera, when the city vanishes, the Tarnhelm leitmotif can be heard in the choral writing. There are references to Parsifal, too - both musical and thematic.

The performance was stunning. Chorus, orchestra, principals and conductor reaffirmed the fact that they are peerless in this repertoire. Tatiana Borodina, a late substitute in the principal-soprano role of Fevronia, was a slight weak point but this is possibly to be expected. Gennady Bezzubenkov’s Prince Yuri and Ekaterina Semenchuk’s Young Boy were especially worthy of note.

A Stravinsky double-bill followed two nights later, beginning with a powerfully-driven rendition of Les noces, and continuing after the interval with Oedipus Rex. The latter featured a gripping performance by Zlata Bulycheva as Jocasta, with smaller roles all authoritatively portrayed. Unfortunately the weakness of the performance was to be found in the title role- tenor Oleg Balashov, despite considerable dramatic conviction, was wavery and frequently out of tune.

Shostakovich’s surreal satire, The Nose, completed the series and was arguably the finest performance of all. It features an enormous ensemble cast; 53 roles were identified in the programme, though obviously there was some doubling-up. This opera has a nightmarish quality, in a quite literal sense, and manic energy and wit which carry the entire performance. Fun is poked at the police, the press, bureaucracy in general, public hysteria, and blame culture, among other things – nobody and nothing seem to escape unscathed.

Vladislav Sulimsky turned in a fine performance as Kovalyev, the owner of the eponymous Nose which one day simply decides to leave his face and escape into society. The dramatic high tenor of Avgust Amonov was extremely impressive in the absurd role of the nose itself, and Edem Umerov’s Ivan Yakovlevich supplied humour from the start. There are few large roles in the opera, but I must give a mention to Tatiana Pavlovskaya who sang beautifully as the girl Kovalyev continually tries to get out of marrying.

A revival of Carmen in the round at the Royal Albert Hall, courtesy of Raymond Gubbay Ltd and director David Freeman, proved a real disappointment. Despite almost all of the musicians and technicians being experienced in this kind of production - not to mention the fact that I saw this show last time around and recall that it was rather good - there was little to recommend the first night. The distance between chorus and orchestra often led to drastic loss of ensemble, while the amplification system - essential for such a staging, and often very well executed - succeeded only in rendering the music dimensionless and the dialogue barely audible.

Best among the brave cast were Natasha Marsh’s sweet Micäela and Leigh Melrose’s suave Escamillo. Imelda Drumm (the second-cast Carmen, replacing an indisposed Victoria Simmonds on opening night) brought no psychological insight into the title role, while John Hudson’s Don José suffered worst of all from the poor sound system. The band - members of the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra – sounded underpowered for the size of the venue, and Peter Robinson’s conducting would have been quite adequate if only he had managed to keep things together more consistently.

Raymond Gubbay’s opera projects have the very valid function of filling the gap in the market - targeting people prepared to pay for a show, but who have to have opera ‘sold’ to them. Gubbay owes this essentially non-opera audience the courtesy of ensuring that the product on offer is comparable in quality with English National Opera and the big-selling West End shows.

In March, the new Keith Warner/Antonio Pappano Ring Cycle continues with Die Walküre, while ENO continues to branch out from its core repertoire with the first-ever UK staging of On the Town. Zürich Opera will perform L’incoronazione di Poppea at the Royal Festival Hall under Nikolas Harnoncourt, and at St John’s, Smith Square there will be a charity concert performance of The rape of Lucretia, with a cast headed by Sir Thomas Allen and Catherine Wyn-Rogers.

© Ruth Elleson, 5 March 2005

March 

On the Town at the English National Opera: dancers Photograph: Johan Persson

The new Ring Cycle directed by Keith Warner at The Royal Opera continued this month with Die Walküre. One overriding theme of this production was the notion that the opera deals with people who exist entirely within the confines of somebody else’s - Wotan’s - little game. Sieglinde and Hunding live in a little box inside the grand but dilapidated hall we saw in Rheingold; the same spiral that enclosed the Rhinemaidens’ watery cocoon now curls around the outside of this dismal little dwelling, having formed the ash tree which sheaths Nothung. The whole of Siegmund and Sieglinde’s existence together, even after their escape, takes place within Wotan’s walls.

Another of the production’s main images was of a silhouetted revolving ceiling fan, which featured at various points throughout the opera, and which I never quite understood - it could be a reference to Apocalypse Now, but this seems too obvious and too flippant.

Die Walküre at the Royal Opera: Bryn Terfel as Wotan Photo: Clive Barda

Katarina Dalayman was a hugely impressive Sieglinde, performing with vocal gleam and a nervous energy which was perfect for the character. I felt it was a shame that Warner had her apparently recognise Siegmund very early on (as soon as he mentioned the fact that his twin sister had disappeared), which left her playing games for the rest of the act to prove that she was not mistaken. Jorma Silvasti’s Siegmund was fresh enough, but strangely unsatisfying; there was a tremulousness in his voice which became quite off-putting, and the big moments (‘Wälse! Wälse! Wo ist dein Schwert?’) were not big enough - he seemed to reach his maximum volume and still become swamped by the orchestra. On the other hand, I want to hear more of Stephen Milling, the black-voiced and brutish Hunding, very soon.

Die Walküre: Bryn Terfel as Wotan Photo: Clive Barda

In the second act, the gods too were still dwelling in their old hall, which seemed odd. There was some excellent singing from Bryn Terfel’s increasingly expansive and always sympathetic Wotan, and Rosalind Plowright’s intense Fricka. Lisa Gasteen’s Brünnhilde was game for a bit of ‘rebel daughter’ horseplay; her voice gleamed most of the time, though she had some trouble with the top end of the octave leaps in the ‘Hojotoho’. Her scene with Siegmund was wonderful, providing an emotional heart to the act that so often doesn’t have one.

Die Walküre: Katarina Dalayman as Sieglinde Photo: Clive Barda

A really outstanding family of Valkyries (on skeletal horses) supplied the performance’s energetic punch, and Terfel and Gasteen managed not to let the momentum slip once they were left with the stage to themselves. Terfel’s account of the farewell was an emotional tour de force. The all-enclosing spiral, expanded to encircle the whole width of the stage in the final act, supplied some fairly impressive magic fire.

In the pit, Antonio Pappano is really getting into his stride now, able to keep a firm grasp on what is happening on stage and still managing to bring a few surprises out of the music.

Die Walküre: Bryn Terfel as Wotan Photo: Clive Barda

A DVD of the cycle is currently being compiled for release, and the accompanying television broadcasts began on Easter Sunday with a performance of Das Rheingold recorded in January. On this occasion the Royal Opera had been forced to edit together a number of performances, as Bryn Terfel had been indisposed at the final performance which had been intended as the main recording session. It was fortunate that this was not live, and that there was plenty of opportunity to salvage footage from other performances.

Die Walküre: Bryn Terfel as Wotan and Lisa Gasteen as Brünnhilde Photo: Clive Barda

The Royal Opera must have been breathing a collective sigh of relief at this piece of good fortune - until, that is, the unthinkable occurred with Die Walküre. The main ‘backup’ recorded performance to the live broadcast was the penultimate performance - during which, I have been told by a number of friends who were there, Terfel’s voice fell apart spectacularly over the course of the evening. It was hoped that he would be fit to sing the final performance of the run for the live transmission on Easter Monday, but this was not to be. A distinguished replacement was found - Robert Hale - but in the end it was decided that it was not fair to Hale or the TV audience to go ahead with the broadcast. A compromise was reached: Act One was shown as scheduled as it does not feature Wotan. The remainder of the broadcast will be shown on 7 May to allow time for a full Terfel performance to be edited together.

On the Town at the English National Opera: Timothy Howar as Ozzie, Adam Garcia as Chip, and Aaron Lazar as Gabey Photograph: Johan Persson

English National Opera has long been associated with more than just opera, with staged oratorios, light operetta and dance-based productions adding to the central repertoire. This month saw yet another new direction for the company, when it mounted a new production of Leonard Bernstein’s On the Town - the first full staging ever in the UK. The cast was assembled from Broadway/West End singers, opera principals and actors, and an amplification system was brought in for the production which generally worked well and provided a balanced sound stage.

The piece itself isn’t terribly strong, and runs out of plot early in the second act - so it’s up to the designs (including a very effective subway train, and a skeleton of a yellow taxi) and the performers to supply the spirit and flavour of New York.

On the Town: Timothy Howar as Ozzie, Aaron Lazar as Gabey and Adam Garcia as Chip Photograph: Johan Persson

The three sailors, Gabey (Aaron Lazar), Chip (Adam Garcia) and Ozzie (Timothy Howar), were endearing and made an appealing ensemble. Individually they had a tendency to come across as a bit wet - a little more laddishness would have improved the dynamic of the group. Among the women, Caroline O’Connor had in-your-face charm and plenty of brass as Hildy Esterhazy. As Ivy, Helen Anker demonstrated a remarkable ability to sing while doing a handstand (!) and Lucy Schaufer was a fine all-rounder as Claire de Loone. The well-known British character actresses Sylvia Syms and Janine Duvitski, along with regular ENO guest Andrew Shore, injected a healthy dose of batty comedy. The ENO chorus, particularly the ladies, relished the belting choruses and acquitted themselves very well.

On the Town: Helen Anker as Ivy Smith Photograph: Johan Persson

There were, admittedly, a few things lacking. To cope with the fairly complex choreography, the cast of over a hundred included a substantial dance troupe, who didn’t look nearly as slick as they might have done, and certainly were no competition for their counterparts in some of London’s other current shows such as Mary Poppins and The Producers. There were times when the stage looked too empty, resulting in loss of atmosphere (an easy trap to fall into with a dance show), and the show’s wartime context was underlined somewhat heavy-handedly.

On the Town: Caroline O'Connor as Hildy Esterhazy and Adam Garcia Chip Photograph: Johan Persson

So we return to an old and hackneyed question: should opera companies be staging musicals? I don’t have a fanatical view one way or the other. In this particular case, though, one has to ask whether it is justified for a publicly-funded company in an expensively refurbished theatre to shell out hundreds of thousands of extra pounds for a sound system, just for one show. I’m not sure I can argue in favour of that one.

On the Town: Helen Anker as Ivy Smith and Sylvia Sims Madame Maude P. Dilly Photograph: Johan Persson

Zurich Opera paid another of its twice-yearly visits to the Royal Festival Hall on 3 March with a concert performance of L’incoronazione di Poppea under the capable baton of Nikolaus Harnoncourt. Vesselina Kasarova was miscast in the title role; her tone is too fruity and unwieldy for this most liquid and seductive of heroines. Jonas Kaufmann’s Nerone, on the other hand, was sung with a beauty of tone which almost made me forget that I don’t like hearing this role sung by a tenor, while László Polgár was also impressive as Seneca. Even with a cast which was for the most part outstanding, the show was comprehensively stolen by the tiny figure of the character tenor Jean-Paul Fouchécourt as the upwardly-mobile nurse, Arnalta.

A charity gala performance of The Rape of Lucretia was given in concert at St John’s, Smith Square on 23 March. I must confess that I have become really bored of this opera, once one of my favourites; in the last five years it has been performed in London by both the major companies, three of the four music colleges, and British Youth Opera - and I can honestly say that I had been planning to take a break of a few years to get it out of my system before seeing it again!

This one was different, though - I was persuaded to attend by the intriguing all-star cast, and the good cause. Catherine Wyn-Rogers, who sang the title role, had played a large part in organising the concert for the Prostate Research Campaign UK, in memory of her father who died of prostate cancer.

Wyn-Rogers - previously heard as Bianca in the ENO production - gave one of the finest performances as Lucretia that I have ever heard or seen. Besides her vocal talents, she has a wonderfully expressive face, and I was privileged to be just three rows from the platform to witness this performance which seemed to come from the depths of her soul.

Thomas Allen was Tarquinius, and while his voice is a little more threadbare than it used to be, his powerfully incisive way with words has, if anything, improved, and he has the ability to portray the character’s arrogance and menace.

The rest of the cast were just as impressive: Geraldine McGreevy and Peter Hoare (a late replacement) as the two choruses, Anne-Marie Owens as Bianca and the talented Royal College of Music student Malin Christensson as Lucia, Neal Davies as Collatinus and Leigh Melrose as Junius. Steuart Bedford conducted from the piano. This was one of those concert performances which is so vivid that you forget that there are no stage directions, costumes or scenery.

Next month sees another of the Royal Opera’s main attractions of the season, a new production of Un ballo in maschera with Marcelo Alvarez, Thomas Hampson and Karita Mattila. English National Opera’s Ring Cycle reaches its conclusion with Götterdämmerung, and later in the month a revival of Lulu once again stars the versatile American soprano Lisa Saffer. The Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment will mount a concert performance of Dido and Aeneas, in a double bill with the Masque from Dioclesian, and I will be visiting the Hexagon Theatre in Reading to catch up with English Touring Opera’s new productions of Maria Stuarda and Cosi fan tutte.

© Ruth Elleson, 3 April 2005

April 

Mario Martone’s new production of Un ballo in maschera at the Royal Opera House: Act III Photo: Catherine Ashmore

Phyllida Lloyd’s staging of the Ring cycle for English National Opera has had its ups and downs, but last autumn’s Siegfried finally showed what this company is really capable of. It set a precedent for Götterdämmerung, which brought the cycle to its conclusion this month in thrilling fashion.

After the Norns’ opening scene, the curtain rises on a scene of domestic bliss on Brünnhilde’s rock - by this stage a sparse but homely 1950s American Midwestern rural abode with a gingham tablecloth. We are reminded that Brünnhilde is essentially still a prisoner when, once Siegfried has disappeared into the distance, she disconsolately heads for a bare side-room and returns to the kneeling pose in which Siegfried first found her. The stage direction also implies that she is pregnant - is she ever to get the chance to sample true freedom?

Götterdämmerung at the English National Opera: Linda Richardson as Woglinde, Ethna Robinson as Flosshilde and Stephanie Marshall as Wellgunde in Act III Scene I Photo: Neil Libbert

Siegfried’s Rhine journey, whizzing as if on an imaginary skateboard through filmed images of fields, forests and water, takes him to the hedonistic delights of a place looking suspiciously like New York, and into the luxury minimalistic apartment of the Gibichungs, which looks suspiciously like a sanitised version of Nibelheim (a clever idea). Here Lloyd spends a great deal of time and effort trying to explain, or at least expose, the warped psychology of Hagen (sung with monumental volume and power by Gidon Saks). He is controlled and abused by his father, who he recognises is evil, but is compelled to do his will; he fantasises after Brünnhilde, Gutrune (his own sister), even apparently Siegfried. Early in the second act the spirit of Hagen’s mother appears, conjured up by Alberich; this turns him into a pathetic, infantile wreck. When in the presence of Gunther and Gutrune, he seems to delight in playing a servile role, as if it is the best way to convince them that he is acting in their interests.

Götterdämmerung: Kathleen Broderick as Brünnhilde in Act II Scene V Photo: Neil Libbert

The production takes much trouble to attack the culture of celebrity. Poor abducted Brünnhilde is brought straight into the Gibichungs’ public domain; their grand reception hall seems to be the studio for a television show, populated by gossip-column enthusiasts with flashing cameras. At the close of the second act the curtain goes down on a tacky reality-show scene of the marriage beds of Siegfried and Gutrune, and Gunther and Brünnhilde - around which the wedding guests are crowded, taking photos and letting off party-poppers. Even after Siegfried’s death, after members of the Gibichung hunting-party have solemnly removed their hero’s two great symbols - his sword and his horn - from the scene, they are swiftly followed by others delighting in looting the corpse of every one of his possessions, from his shirt to his shoes, and taking more pictures as they do so.

Götterdämmerung: Richard Berkeley-Steele as Siegfried and Kathleen Broderick as Brünnhilde in the final scene Photo: Neil Libbert

This Ring’s main strength has been the believability of the characters, in particular Kathleen Broderick’s Brünnhilde, a tiny figure with a will of iron, whose transformation from energetic Valkyrie to lover and wife and then to unwilling victim was utterly believable. It was she who ensured the emotional rollercoaster of Götterdämmerung kept on track, and she who the audience found itself rooting for. Her voice is not enormous, but it is sweet and true and it carries over the orchestra, and her total engagement with the role was always in evidence. Richard Berkeley-Steele’s Siegfried, too, had stamina, energy and credibility, and the sorrow at his death was palpable.

Götterdämmerung: Kathleen Broderick as Brünnhilde in the final scene Photo: Neil Libbert

I was lucky to be able to return to this production for its final performance; it marked not only the end of the Ring but also effectively the end of Paul Daniel’s tenure as Music Director (though he still has further performances of Lulu to conduct). It was an exciting, staggeringly committed performance (especially from Broderick) at the end of which there was a standing ovation and the entire orchestra was brought onto the stage to share in the curtain calls. Richard Berkeley-Steele made a speech appealing for support and funding to enable the four operas to be brought together as cycles; let us hope that this finance can be found from somewhere.

Un ballo in maschera: Karita Mattila as Amelia and Marcelo Alvarez as Riccardo Photo: Catherine Ashmore

This month’s other major new production was at the Royal Opera House, where a stellar cast was assembled for Mario Martone’s new production of Un ballo in maschera. Bucking the modern-day trend, Martone chose to set the opera in its Boston version, albeit with a change of time period from that specified by Verdi. The American Civil War was chosen as a suitable backdrop because it enabled some exploration of racial tensions within the drama - both the intended banishment of ‘unclean negro’ Ulrica, and the possible psychological implications of Renato being, as the libretto mentions, ‘meticcio’ (mixed race). The Civil War setting caused only one major problem, in that there seemed to be no logical context for the character of Oscar.

Un ballo in maschera: Karita Mattila as Amelia Photo: Catherine Ashmore

The staging was uncomplicated (though with one or two stunning visual effects, such as the giant mirror used for part of the final act) and the music was therefore allowed to take centre stage. As Amelia, Karita Mattila looked exquisite and sang as beautifully and stylishly as ever, though her tone quality is not ideal for the role - a bit more Italianate ‘juice’ was called for. This was to be found in abundance in the voice of Marcelo Alvarez, whose Riccardo was full of nobility and passion. As Renato, Thomas Hampson also sounded wonderful, managing to convey the character’s turmoil in turning against his wife and friend. Elisabetta Fiorillo’s Ulrica was richly sung, and Camilla Tilling’s Oscar was highly impressive vocally even if the characterisation was badly restricted by the production.

The chorus sang well, but appeared to be suffering from a lack of direction (one line for the conspirators in the first act was fittingly rendered by the surtitles as ‘We can’t act here, we must go’). Antonio Pappano conducted with a deliciously light touch, particularly in the ensemble towards the end of Act 2, adding sufficient weight when required.

Un ballo in maschera: Thomas Hampson as Renato, Karita Mattila as Amelia and Marcelo Alvarez as Riccardo at the end of the opera Photo: Catherine Ashmore

Just like when it was new three years ago, Richard Jones’ production of Lulu for English National Opera was principally notable for one thing - the sensational performance of the American soprano Lisa Saffer in the title role. Saffer has a way of making Berg’s angular lines sound like birdsong, and the intelligence and physical ability to slip chameleon-like from one of the character’s incarnations to the next, bringing each one to life quite distinctly.

Lulu at the English National Opera: Lisa Saffer as Lulu and Richard Coxon as the painter in Act I Scene I Photo: Neil Libbert

The other notable feature of the production - the huge-scale, meticulously styled, brightly-coloured kitsch of the sets - paled upon a second viewing. It was too much for the eye to handle, and there was a real danger of attention being diverted away from the music. The overall effect is passionless - something which is probably intentional.

Lisa Saffer as Lulu in Act I Scene III Photo: Neil Libbert

The cast was largely the same as in 2002, with a new and capable Alwa in Jeffrey Lloyd-Roberts. Susan Parry’s Geschwitz showed more passion and commitment than in the earlier run; Robert Hayward returned as an imposing Doctor Schön and Gwynne Howell as a bumbling Schigolch. Paul Daniel conducted.

Lulu: Robert Hayward as Dr. Schön and Lisa Saffer on the title role in Act II Scene I Photo: Neil Libbert

The first prize at this year’s Kathleen Ferrier Awards was given to the 27-year-old mezzo Anna Stéphany. Stéphany chose the most varied and intelligent recital programme of any of the five finalists, ranging from a thrillingly emotional account of ‘Flowers bring to every year’ from The Rape of Lucretia, via songs by Mahler, Poulenc and Pelham Humfrey, to an assured and agile account of Sesto’s ‘Parto, parto’ from La clemenza di Tito. She won a huge ovation at the end of her recital. Her repetiteur, Jonathan Beatty, conveniently but justifiably walked away with the Accompanists’ Prize.

The only other singer to demonstrate her ability as a performer (i.e. not merely a singer) was the engaging and communicative 26-year-old soprano Lucy Crowe. At the end of the semi-final she had appeared to be the frontrunner, but a flawed choice of repertoire for the final, and some signs of fatigue in her grand finale (Elvira’s ‘Ah non credea’ from I puritani) led to her being awarded second prize. The tenor Andrew Staples had failed to impress in the semi-final (though the distinguished judging panel must have heard something interesting in order to put him through) but sang a much better final, and walked away with the Song Prize for his account of Strauss’s ‘Befreit’ as well as a semifinal performance of Finzi’s ‘The Sigh’. The other finalists were Celeste Lazarenko, a polished but somewhat uncommunicative Australian soprano, and a hugely promising but ‘unfinished’ 24-year-old Romanian soprano, Eliana Pretorian.

May kicks off with a concert performance of La clemenza di Tito at the Royal Festival Hall, courtesy of Zurich Opera. The Royal Opera will stage the world premiere of Lorin Maazel’s first opera, 1984, and a new production of Il turco in Italia with a cast headed by Cecilia Bartoli. English National Opera’s season continues with Handel’s Jephtha, in a production which has already been seen at Welsh National Opera.

© Ruth Elleson, 6 May 2005

May 

Lorin Maazel's 1984 at the Royal Opera House: the 'Hate Session' at the beginning of Act I Photo: Bill Cooper

As his 75th birthday approached, the conductor Lorin Maazel decided to write his first opera, which he funded out of his own pocket and premiered at the Royal Opera House this month. The subject matter was George Orwell’s 1984, and caused some trouble on the London music scene before it was even completed. Maazel had been engaged to conduct a major cycle of Bruckner and Schubert symphonies with the London Symphony Orchestra at the Barbican in late 2004, but opted to withdraw to concentrate on completing his opera. The concerts were cancelled, and the LSO had to do some quick thinking to fill in almost an entire autumn season. The reaction of most people was naturally, ‘This opera had better be good!’

1984: Act I Photo: Bill Cooper

In the event, much of it was, but it was the production and cast which made the evening worthwhile, rather than the piece itself. The opera was moderately tuneful, but seemed to have no intended musical direction, and came across as a mixture of several different contemporary styles with a number of English folk-tunes thrown in (for the proles of course). It seemed an illustrative piece rather than an enlightening or insightful one, cramming Orwell’s ideas into a too-short space of time (despite seeming overlong) and giving only passing reference to some of the book’s principal themes. There was little evidence that Maazel’s expensive birthday treat should signal a change in career for the maestro.

1984: the 'Factory Scene' in Act I with Richard Margison as O'Brien (centre), and Simon Keenlyside as Winston (right) Photo: Bill Cooper

Simon Keenlyside led the cast as Winston Smith, giving an incredible performance full of humanity and nervous tension - the Room 101 torture scene was like a dedicated showcase for the talents of this unique performer. He was partnered by Nancy Gustafson, in fine voice as Julia. As Syme, the remarkable American high tenor, Lawrence Brownlee, demonstrated Newspeak in a crystal-clear narration, while as one of the voices of the Oceania establishment, Diana Damrau gave a mechanically terrifying account of the Gym Instructress. Richard Margison was a chilling O’Brien, and Graeme Danby was convincing as the undercover Thought Police spy, Charrington.

1984: Nancy Gustafson as Julia and Simon Keenlyside as Winston Photo: Bill Cooper

Robert Lepage’s staging made much of the omnipresence of Big Brother and the day-to-day banality and tedium of this oppressive society. The former London evoked by the sets was in a Dickensian vein; perhaps something more relevant to the London audience of 2005 might have had more of an impact. The torture scenes were cleverly staged.

The opera turned out to be an unworthy setting of a great work of literature, rescued by an impeccable cast in a very reasonable production. Maazel himself conducted.

1984: Simon Keenlyside as Winston under torture in Room 101 Photo: Bill Cooper

A new production of Rossini’s Il turco in Italia at the Royal Opera House provided a rare chance to see the elusive Cecilia Bartoli in a staged opera. Rossini is far from my favourite opera composer, and Turco far from my favourite of his operas; the plot is paper-thin, the music identical to Rossini’s other comic operas. Had it not been a major new production (by Patrice Caurier and Moshe Leiser) with a major star - and therefore essential Letter from London fare - I would probably not have bothered going at all.

Il turco in Italia at the Royal Opera House: Alessandro Corbelli as Don Geronio, Ildebrando D'Arcangelo as Selim, Cecilia Bartoli as Fiorilla, and Barry Banks as Narciso Photo: Catherine Ashmore

I was doubly pleased, therefore when it turned out to be the highlight of the season so far. Admittedly it was the principally the staging that did it - perhaps a higher proportion of the laughs could have come from the comedy written into Felice Romani’s libretto and Rossini’s music - but this was immaterial to the first-night audience who were practically rolling in the aisles throughout the performance. From the opening depiction of the gypsy band stripping two unsuspecting tourists of all their wordly goods (including, in one case, a baby!) to the closing scene involving a singing nun and an aeroplane (don’t ask) the production was a joy.

Il turco in Italia: Cecilia Bartoli as Fiorilla and Ildebrando D'Arcangelo as Selim Photo: Catherine Ashmore

Bartoli produced her trademark rapid-fire coloratura as Fiorilla; she hammed it up something chronic, but it worked well with this staging. She was as believable as the penitent wife as she was when chasing men (at the final curtain she even sneaks off in hot pursuit of a muscle-bound bather). She sparked nicely off Ildebrando D’Arcangelo’s suave Selim, aided by some well-thought-out surtitles, and looked a treat in Agostino Cavalca’s costumes.

Il turco in Italia: Finale of Act II Photo: Catherine Ashmore

Thomas Allen as the deus ex machina Prodoscimo had a similar comic chemistry with Alessandro Corbelli’s Don Geronio, and there were high-class vocal contributions from Heather Shipp’s Zaida and Barry Banks’s Narciso (in a VERY camp yellow suit).

Like the Caurier/Leiser Cenerentola here in 2001, the visual style of the piece was based on Fellini’s La Dolce Vita, with expanses of airy open space furnished with bright Mediterranean colours, dominated in this case by warm reds and yellows. Somehow the production, cast and musical direction came together on the first night to produce one of the best shows seen here at Covent Garden since the house reopened in 1999.

Il turco in Italia: Alessandro Corbelli as Don Geronio and Cecilia Bartoli as Fiorilla Photo: Catherine Ashmore

English National Opera presented its second staged oratorio of 2005 in the shape of Handel’s Jephtha, a co-production with Welsh National Opera who performed it two years ago. The three leading figures - Jephtha, his wife Storgè and his daughter Iphis - were strongly cast, with Mark Padmore, Susan Bickley and Sarah Tynan all returning to the roles they took at WNO. Padmore’s eloquence and clarity of tone brought definition to the anguish of the father who finds he has to sacrifice his own child - a predicament shared by many operatic fathers including Idomeneo. If I have one criticism of Padmore it is that his pianissimi were inaudible (and I was in a section of the stalls where the sound is normally perfect). Bickley was riveting in her nightmare scene. Tynan, a member of the ENO Young Artists, is a talented singer with considerable stage presence, as well as a slight stature and clear-eyed innocence which allow her to look in her early teens - she turned in an exceptionally harrowing performance.

Vicki Mortimer gave us a wonderfully-observed war-damaged hotel for a set, which essentially remained unchanged throughout; it began as a part of the context but faded into insignificance in the face of the piece’s human drama. The costumes (also by Mortimer) were impressive in their detail, giving each member of the chorus their own bearing and character.

A heavy-handed approach from Nicholas Kraemer in the pit was the one sour note of an otherwise powerfully dramatic experience.

One risk you take when booking in advance for an opera is that the biggest name in the cast will fall ill and cancel at short notice. This can prove fortuitous when the replacement singer is a more illustrious artist than the original singer, which is exactly what happened at Zurich Opera’s concert performance of La clemenza di Tito at the Royal Festival Hall on 1 June.

Susan Graham, no less, was brought in to sing Sesto after an attack of laryngitis claimed Vesselina Kasarova, and took the performance by storm. Her warm-toned, flexible mezzo was fearless in the triplets of ‘Parto, parto’ and melted into scarcely bearable anguish for the second act. She was strongly partnered by Eva Mei’s dramatic Vitellia and, notably, Jonas Kaufmann’s sympathetic Tito. Malin Hartelius was a sweet-voiced Servilia, Hana Minutillo (also a late replacement) a pleasing Annio.

Franz Welser-Möst conducted a driven and poised version of the opera which used spoken dialogue in place of the lengthy passages of recitative secco.

On to June, always one of the busiest months in the opera calendar. Holland Park opens its annual season with Macbeth and La sonnambula; ENO prepares for the summer break with revivals of Cosi fan tutte and Eugene Onegin; the Royal Opera revives Rigoletto (with Anna Netrebko), La bohème (with Angela Gheorghiu) and Otello (with Ben Heppner and Renee Fleming); and Chelsea Opera Group provide a rare chance to hear Verdi’s early Schiller opera, Giovanna d’Arco, in a concert performance.

© Ruth Elleson, 6 June 2005

June 

Rigoletto at the Royal Opera: Paolo Gavanelli in the title role Photo: Clive Barda

The Royal Opera has had a wonderful month, with impressive revivals of two popular productions. John Copley’s well-worn staging of La bohème may be ultra-traditional and thus supposedly timeless, but the colour palette of various shades of brown betrays its roots in the 1970s (1974 to be precise). I must confess that it is not my favourite staging of this opera, but at least the present revival had more than usual to recommend it.

La bohème at the Royal Opera House: Angela Gheorghiu as Mimi, Tito Beltran as Rodolfo, Mariusz Kwiecien as Marcello, Jonathan Lemalu as Colline and Grant Doyle as Schaunard in Act II Photo: Catherine Ashmore

On paper, the most significant of those advantages was the Mimi of Angela Gheorghiu, who has not appeared in this production since her very early career. In the event, the entire cast proved exceptionally strong, particularly the Polish baritone Mariusz Kwiecen as Marcello. Another pleasant surprise was the tenor Tito Beltran, a fairly late substitution; in the previous revival he had sung in the ‘C’ cast and had sounded less than equal to Puccini’s sweepingly romantic vocal lines, but three years on his voice and personality have filled out and he is now as fine a Rodolfo as one could wish for. He and Gheorghiu had a lovely chemistry with one another, filled with tenderness. The humour of Angela Maria Blasi’s Musetta seemed rather laboured, and I felt Jonathan Lemalu could have brought more life to Colline.

La bohème: Angela Maria Blasi as Musetta and Mariusz Kwiecien as Marcello Photo: Catherine Ashmore

Mark Elder conducted; his tempi were often at odds with Gheorghiu’s and one senses that there may have been a minor battle over them in rehearsal. But other than that one point, Elder worked magic with the score, creating a proper sense of fun and occasion in the parade at the end of Act 2, and real panic and urgency in the high violin passage of Mimi’s final entrance.

La bohème at the Royal Opera House: Angela Gheorghiu as Mimi, Tito Beltran as Rodolfo, Angela Maria Blasi as Musetta and Mariusz Kwiecien as Marcello in Act IV Photo: Catherine Ashmore

Also at Covent Garden, a revival of David McVicar’s production of Rigoletto proved the strongest that this production has yet seen. Despite a somewhat minimal set, McVicar’s sense of theatrical realism ensures that the dank backstreets of Mantua are brought to life just as vividly as the vile hedonism of the ducal court.

The performance could scarcely fail with the great Verdi conductor Sir Edward Downes in the pit, and Paolo Gavanelli in the title role. Downes and Gavanelli each seemed to understand the nuances in the other’s performance; ‘Si, vendetta’ seemed to arise out of a moment of stillness, gaining momentum as Rigoletto’s thoughts become more clearly-focused in his own mind. If Gavanelli does not have an absolute sense of Verdian line, he compensates with a performance of such devastating commitment and humanity that by the end I was emotionally exhausted.

Anna Netrebko’s Gilda seemed perfect; she genuinely looked like a young girl and sang with a limpid chime-like tone which was simultaneously rich and pure. And Piotr Beczala - such an impressive Faust last autumn - was a convincing Duke, singing with bravado and panache as well as utter vocal security. Eric Halfvarson’s hulking Sparafucile and Liora Grodnikaite’s lustrous Maddalena completed the main cast. Some roles change hands for the July performances: the second cast, in a purely chronological sense, will include Rolando Villazon and Ekaterina Siurina, with Dmitri Hvorostovsky in the title role.

Rigoletto at the Royal Opera: Anna Netrebko as Gilda and Piotr Beczala as the Duke Photo: Clive Barda

English National Opera has two stagings of Così fan tutte in its current repertoire; the primary-coloured small-scale one designed for the stage of the Barbican Theatre while the Coliseum was being refurbished, and another quite different sepia-toned staging by Matthew Warchus which premiered on the home stage in 2002, and was used on this occasion.

Cara O’Sullivan’s Fiordiligi was stoical of character and secure of tone, providing a suitable balance with Anne-Marie Gibbons’s lighter-voiced Dorabella. Gregory Turay made a successful house debut as Ferrando, and Mark Stone was particularly excellent as Guglielmo. Robert Poulton’s Don Alfonso was of course cynical and rather sardonic, though he resisted the temptation to upstage everybody else as many a Don Alfonso has been known to do. Lillian Watson was a delightful Despina, still not looking or sounding any closer to retirement despite having had a career of 35 years or so. Edward Gardner conducted.

Eugene Onegin at the English National Opera: Susan Gorton as Filippyevna and Yvonne Howard as Madame Larina in the opening scene Photo: Stephen Romilly

The main ENO season closed with a revival of Julia Hollander’s 1994 production of Eugene Onegin. It is a neat, uncluttered staging with clean lines, which serves to put the emphasis on the musical performance. The one scene which does seem ‘busy’ is the party in Scene Four, and this was very well directed, giving each chorus member and extra a recognisably individual character.

There were some unintentionally comical moments. At the end of the penultimate scene when Onegin races off to find Tatyana, he tears off two items of clothing as he leaves, which begs the question, just how long is it going to take him to find her, and will he still be wearing clothes when he does? In the next scene, he prostrated himself and grabbed in to her skirt so hard that the only way she could extricate herself for her final exit was with an undignified waddle. Under-rehearsal, perhaps?

Eugene Onegin: Catrin Wyn-Davies as Tatyana and Louise Poole as Olga Photo: Stephen Romilly

Catrin Wyn-Davies was an infuriating Tatyana. On the one hand, she sang sweetly and portrayed both the age and disposition of the character exceptionally well. On the other, she sang with a very strange facial expression, with her lips pushed far forward and almost pursed, which fudged her consonants and made her diction very poor. In the same week that ENO announced its controversial decision to introduce surtitles, there could not have been a clearer illustration of why we need them, and more to the point, why we shouldn’t need them.

Also at the centre of the cast was Gerald Finley, singing the title role for the first time. Dare I say I think he would do better in a smaller house? Nonetheless, he captured Onegin’s stiff, disinterested demeanour well. Gwyn Hughes Jones was a serviceable Lensky, but Louise Poole’s lovely-looking Olga seemed a trifle underpowered. John Graham-Hall’s Triquet and Peter Rose’s Gremin were both admirable cameos, while Yvonne Howard (Mme Larina) and Susan Gorton (Filippyevna) also sang well. Making his house debut, the conductor Jonathan Darlington had a good sense of atmosphere, from the relaxed, slightly languid opening bars to the feverish build-up to the Letter Scene.

Eugene Onegin: John Graham-Hall as Monsieur Triquet Photo: Stephen Romilly

The 2005 season at Opera Holland Park opened with the best production I have ever seen at the West London venue, closely followed by one of the worst. The stunner was Verdi’s Macbeth, in a production by Olivia Fuchs which had a very simple but highly effective gimmick: the rear wall of the set appeared to weep blood throughout the first two acts. The idea of blood making up the very fabric of the building was carried further; washing hands after a murder resulted in the hands becoming more, not less bloody. This was a Macbeth in the mould of Bluebeard, and the effect was chilling.

Macbeth at Opera Holland Park: Oli Sigurdarson as Macbeth with the witches in Act III Photo: Fritz Curzon

The Icelandic baritone Olafur Sigurdarson made a fine job of the title role. He was vocally strong and dramatically compelling, but was if anything overshadowed by his colleagues: the exciting young Irish dramatic soprano Miriam Murphy, and the tenor Leonardo Capalbo. Murphy has learned to control her enormous voice since I last heard her some years ago, and has gained a magnetism of personality which should take her career on to its next level. Capalbo’s Macduff was heart-rending in ‘Ah, la paterna mano’. Mark Beesley was an impressive Banquo. Both male and female choruses were as powerful as I have ever heard at Holland Park. If there was a single weakness, it was Lee David Bowen as a slightly underpowered Malcolm. John Gibbons conducted with all the tautness and drama one could ask of this score. Only a well-timed shriek from one of Holland Park’s resident peacocks, upon the announcement of Duncan’s murder, provided a moment of light relief from the well-sustained atmosphere.

Macbeth: Leonardo Capalbo as Macduff and Oli Sigurdarson as Macbeth in the final scene Photo: Fritz Curzon

La sonnambula was another matter. The opera has some inherent failings, most notably the fact that very little happens during the first act - and a production as lifeless as Alasdair Middleton’s did nothing to disguise this weakness. The chorus (vocally weaker than usual) stood around, usually motionless, in chocolate-box Tyrolean costumes against a backdrop of chocolate-box Tyrolean chalets, while the principals did their best to bring some drama to the piece. Fortunately most of them managed it, and by the first-act finale things were improving.

The ENO principal Linda Richardson gave an affecting and melodic account of the title role, though she could not muster the ideal level of legato called for by Bellini’s music. As Elvino, the American tenor Paul Austin Kelly was a casting coup for Holland Park, and despite sounding somewhat dry at times, he showed his class. Kate Ladner’s Lisa was extremely well-sung, even if an apparent lack of direction led to her standing in a ludicrous hands-on-hips pose for much of the second act. Tim Mirfin’s tall, handsome Count Rodolfo had plenty of stage presence, with an imposing voice to match - his was the strongest performance of the evening. In the pit, Brad Cohen kept everything flowing along nicely, but there was only so much he and the principals could do to compensate for the shortcomings of the production.

La sonnambula at Opera Holland Park Photo: Fritz Curzon

The fringes of London operatic life include some unlikely venues, one of which is the Rosemary Branch Theatre - a tiny studio theatre above a pub on the borders of Shoreditch and Hackney, with a maximum seating capacity of just 60. It was here that I journeyed to catch a double bill of English one-act rarities performed with piano accompaniment by the Minotaur Music Theatre Company, which harvests most of its singers from the audition process at British Youth Opera.

Gustav Holst’s The Wandering Scholar is a farmhouse-kitchen farce with serious moments. Samantha Cole was very fetching as the comely housewife Alison, and Sebastian Valentine was more than adequate as her husband Louis, but the real star turns came from the 19-year-old bass-baritone John Savournin, giving a memorable character performance as the randy priest Father Philippe, and tenor David Menezes as the eponymous wandering scholar who gets to deliver the only serious aria of the piece.

William Walton’s The Bear, ‘an extravaganza in one act’, is a thoroughly enjoyable showcase for three singers; the widow Popova is determined to remain in mourning for ever more, to prove a point to her feckless late husband that at least one person in their relationship can remain faithful. A stranger named Smirnov arrives demanding settlement of a debt, and their vehement squabbling results in their falling in love. In this production, the mezzo Karina Lucas gave an excellent performance as Popova, with Giles Davies as a wild-eyed Smirnov with a good comic gift (particularly in his ‘Franglais’ aria, ‘Madame, je vous prie’). David Tappin, the only older member of the entire company, sang Luka the butler.

The intimacy of the venue, the youth and talent of the cast, and David Eaton’s astonishingly ‘orchestral’ piano accompaniment led me to enjoy the double-bill so much that I immediately booked for the same company’s La bohème which was running concurrently. This proved probably the freshest, most moving and certainly most believable production of this opera that I have ever seen.

This production, sung in English by a cast of seven, was the antithesis of the sort of production I reviewed some paragraphs ago at Covent Garden. The stage was the right size to be somebody’s squalid little bedsit, and the proximity of the audience to the stage was such that as well as hearing all the words of Jeremy Sams’s translation, even in the denser passages, one could even smell the bohemians’ wine (blackcurrant or grape juice, in fact, judging by the smell!) The cunning set consisted of backcloths which were unfurled from the ceiling, and furniture which was folded in and out of the walls of the set when not in use.

But the young and credible cast was what made the show really special. Robert Amon’s Rodolfo was believably ardent in pursuit of Lisa Crosato’s beautiful and pearly-voiced Mimi. Nicholas Lester’s excellently-sung Marcello and Elizabeth Menezes’s hilarious Musetta were also well-matched. Nicholas Merryweather and John Savournin were good-natured and high-spirited as Schaunard and Colline. And Martin Lamb revelled in the roles of Benoit (‘I’m sixty, but I’m sexy!’) and Alcindoro. Bohème as a chamber opera? I’m convinced.

In July the Royal Opera will mount a revival of Otello with Ben Heppner in the title role, along with Mozart’s early opera seria, Mitridate, re di Ponto. Later in the month the company’s production of Die Walküre returns with a cast including Placido Domingo as Siegmund and Waltraud Meier as Sieglinde, which I will see as a concert performance at the Proms on 18 July. Also at the Proms this month, Mackerras will conduct a performance of HMS Pinafore and Paul McCreesh will direct the Gabrieli Consort and Players in a performance of Purcell’s The Fairy Queen. Elsewhere, the remainder of the season at Holland Park includes productions of Madama Butterfly, L’elisir d’amore, Eugene Onegin and Andrea Chénier. English National Opera will give a special one-off performance of Shadowtime by Brian Ferneyhough, and the Early Opera Company will stage Handel’s Flavio, re di Longobardi at the Queen Elizabeth Hall.

© Ruth Elleson, 4 July 2005

July 

Mitridate re di Ponto at theRoyal Opera House: Bruce Ford in the title role Photo: Clive Barda

The Royal Opera concluded its dream-cast summer season this month with revivals of Otello, Mitridate and Die Walküre, the last of which I saw in a semi-staged performance at the Proms.

The performance of Otello I attended did not have quite the cast it had intended. Ben Heppner was present as planned, cracking a few fairly crucial top notes but otherwise in stunning voice. Renée Fleming, on the other hand, was forced to withdraw from the early performances due to a family emergency. Her replacement in these first few performances was Amanda Roocroft, the Desdemona of the last revival. This is one of Roocroft’s finer roles, which she sang here with sweetness and emotional commitment and some wonderful pianissimo. The physical contrast between this small blonde Desdemona and Heppner’s big bear of an Otello was most touching, and is surely just what Shakespeare had in mind.

I could have done with a bigger voice than Lucio Gallo’s in the role of Iago, but he delivered excellent characterisation as a crafty and subtle malefactor. The supporting cast was strong, and Antonio Pappano’s conducting was energetic and dramatic.

Otello at the Royal Opera House: Ben Heppner in the title role with Lucio Gallo as Iago (left) Photo: Clive Barda

Mitridate re di Ponto, in Graham Vick’s colourful, heavily stylised and visually arresting production with Richard Hickox conducting, saw an auspicious house debut among its star performances. This was the soprano Aleksandra Kurzak as the much fought-over heroine, Aspasia, who gave a fearless and well-prepared vocal performance of this long opera which contains some of Mozart’s most florid arias. She also coped well with the costumes; both male and female costumes in this production feature enormous panniers, and as Aspasia’s costumes were the widest and the longest, they must also have been the heaviest and the most difficult to manage.

Mitridate: Bruce Ford in the title role Photo: Clive Barda

David Daniels, in wonderful voice as Farnace, drew the short straw as he was dressed in green and, in the position he was made to adopt during his most challenging aria, looked like a giant frog. Another admirable performance came from Sally Matthews as Sifare, who coped rather better than some with the costumes; she still needs to keep an eye on her tendency to drift sharp. In the title role, Bruce Ford negotiated Mozart’s difficult music with aplomb, though a touch of vocal tiredness set in later in the opera, and his small voice meant he was constantly upstaged by his more declamatory colleagues.

Bruce Ford as Mitridate and Sally Matthews as Sifare Photo: Clive Barda

Following three performances at Covent Garden, the Royal Opera revival of Die Walküre under the baton of Antonio Pappano was repeated on the fourth evening of this year’s BBC Proms, giving both the Royal Opera House and Royal Albert Hall their hottest ticket of the year. The incomparable pairing of Placido Domingo and Waltraud Meier as Siegmund and Sieglinde, along with Bryn Terfel’s Wotan and Lisa Gasteen’s Brunnhilde, proved at least as good in performance as it looked on paper.

Domingo certainly does not sound like a 64-year-old. Neither does he sound like a German-speaker, but on this occasion nobody seemed to care. There was not a trace of strain or wear anywhere in his voice; only a full, burnished tenor with seemingly limitless reserves of passion and drama. Had he been partnered by anyone other than Meier – who certainly does not sound like a mezzo – it would have been a one-man show, but she delivered a performance of electrifying intensity; her first declaration of his name ‘Siegmund’ made one’s hair stand on end, as did her ‘O hehrstes Wunder!’, the first time Wagner’s so-called ‘Rebirth’ theme is heard.

Terfel’s Wotan seems to have matured and developed in the space of less than five months since the production was new. In this performance he put paid to any suggestion that he may not be suited to the role. Gasteen’s Brunnhilde, unlike at Covent Garden in March, had all the notes all the time, with her one-time hit-and-miss Hojotohos absolutely rock-solid. In this semi-staging for the Proms, she had the added advantage of not having to clamber up and down ladders, throw things around, and generally take her attention away from displaying her ample capability in this music.

L’elisir d’amore at Opera Holland Park: Judith Howarth as Adina entertains the villagers with the story of Tristan and Isolde in Act I Photo: Fritz Curzon

The month began for Opera Holland Park with L’elisir d’amore, set in and around a village cinema somewhere in sunny Italy. Adina was the cinema manager, Nemorino and Giannetta ticket-sellers and ushers. Toby Stafford-Allen’s very dashing Belcore made his appearance in a camouflaged Army jeep looking thoroughly out of place in this idyllic setting, and Donald Maxwell’s grotesque Dulcamara turned up on a Vespa with an entourage of screamingly camp flunkies in pink uniforms.

L’elisir d’amore at Opera Holland Park: Donald Maxwell as Dulcamara arrives in the village chauffered by one of his many pink-clad assistants, in Act I Photo: Fritz Curzon

From start to finish, the singing was very classy, especially from Howarth and Maxwell – it just goes to show what kind of artists Holland Park is capable of attracting these days. And on a summer’s afternoon it was a breath of fresh air – Holland Park only tends to have one matinee per season and light comedy is definitely the right way to go.

Madama Butterfly at Opera Holland Park: the entrance of Butterfly's family in Act I Photo: Fritz Curzon

A new production of Madama Butterfly (the last one here was only five years ago) also went down well, with naturalistic-looking people and settings. Other than an unintentional moment of comedy during the Flower Duet when Butterfly’s son parted company with his lustrous blond wig, this was a creditable exercise in doing opera straight. There was much emphasis on Butterfly’s insistence on an American household, and the set design highlighted the isolation into which this places her, with the rest of the neighbourhood outside looking in.

Madama Butterfly: the neighbours surround Butterfly's American home with Max Hirata Elverston as her son, in Act II Photo: Fritz Curzon

Julie Unwin’s remarkable account of the title role upstaged Richard Roberts’s slightly one-dimensional Pinkerton, Simon Thorpe’s Sharpless and Alison Kettlewell’s Suzuki, but it was a generally strong cast with nothing to condemn it. If anything I would have liked a larger orchestral sound, but Dominic Wheeler’s conducting supported the voices exceptionally well. This was a believable Butterfly.

Yevgeny Onegin at Opera Holland Park: the peasants' song in Act I Scene I Photo: Fritz Curzon

Later in the month, Yevgeny Onegin showcased the young Welsh soprano Camilla Roberts, who recently competed in Cardiff Singer of the World, and the rising star baritone, Mark Stone. Roberts gave a good portrayal of the shy, awkward teenage Tatyana, and sang with real passion and radiance, but her transformation into Princess Gremina was not quite so successful. To be fair, it was partly the fault of the costumes; none of the ladies in the chorus looked very much grander at the society ball than they had at the country birthday party, and more thought should have been given to their required grace and dignity of bearing.

Yevgeny Onegin: Mark Stone as Onegin is confronted by Peter Wedd as Lensky in Act II Scene I Photo: Fritz Curzon

Stone’s account of the title role was interesting; he is tall and good-looking with an imposing voice and a stage presence to match, but somehow there was some humanity missing from his portrayal. It was difficult to empathise with him when, finally, he realises his feelings for Tatyana.

Peter Wedd’s Lensky and Sarah Pring’s Madame Larina were both strongly sung, but Victoria Simmonds seemed to find Olga rather low-lying and suffered also from some over-exuberant stage direction. Graeme Broadbent’s Gremin was underpowered. Stuart Stratford’s conducting made much of the big emotional moments but the dances seemed musically underwhelming.

Yevgeny Onegin: Graeme Broadbent as Prince Gremin with Camilla Roberts as Tatyana, in Act III Scene I Photo: Fritz Curzon

Finally, in another new production, Andrea Chénier proved a triumph of singing over staging. The chorus were done up with white faces and hollow eyes and the red ribbons of the guillotine. Why? They were made to run on- and off-stage constantly as a horde, ensuring that none of their entrances or exits appeared to have any weight or purpose. Why again? They sang extremely well, though, in their best performance since Macbeth last month.

Andrea Chénier at Opera Holland Park: Katarina Jovanovic as Maddalena in Act I Photo: Fritz Curzon

The principals, too, were worthy of considerable praise. John Hudson was in delicious voice and sang the title role like a god, though he didn’t seem to engage much with the drama; Katarina Jovanovic’s Maddalena matched him vocally and provided the histrionic weight. Another note to the director – why give any singer the indignity of having to begin her big aria while lying spreadeagled on the floor? Olafur Sigurdarson was a vocally impressive Gérard, and gave a well-thought-out account of the role which afforded this frequently objectionable character much sympathy.

Andrea Chénier: Olafur Sigurdarson as Gérard is assisted by Robert Burt as L'Incredibile after being injured by Chénier, Act II Photo: Fritz Curzon

The opening Proms weekend was more than usually packed with vocal music. The centenary of Michael Tippett’s birth was celebrated with an opening-night performance of his oratorio A Child of Our Time, which I did not attend; the next day – Saturday – saw an evening of Gilbert and Sullivan conducted by Mackerras and culminating in a complete concert performance of HMS Pinafore. Well, it was musically complete at any rate; the dialogue was scrapped in favour of a rather disappointing narration penned by Kit Hesketh-Harvey and delivered by Tim Brooke-Taylor. The singers, at least, were above average, among them Sally Matthews’s haughty and full-toned Josephine, Felicity Palmer’s dramatic Little Buttercup, and Neal Davies’ soulful Captain Corcoran. As the villainous Dick Deadeye, Peter Sidhom offered a fine parody of the sort of roles that make up his core portfolio. Timothy Robinson seemed suited to the role of the lovesick sailor Ralph Rackstraw but was lazy with his phrasing, and Richard Suart’s Sir Joseph Porter was, as I have said of so many of this singer’s roles, played in the only way he knows how.

Purcell’s entertaining collection of masques, The Fairy Queen, followed on Sunday, in another semi-staging in which the women – including Mhairi Lawson, Julia Gooding and Rebecca Outram – comprehensively outsang the men. There was many an enjoyable moment, among them Mark Le Brocq’s simpering drag act as Mopsa opposite Jonathan Best’s Coridon, and Lawson’s shameless prima-donna account of ‘Hark! The ech’ing air’ towards the end. The performance by the Gabrieli Consort was led from the harpsichord by Paul McCreesh.

Stravinsky’s early masterpiece, Le rossignol, was given a concert performance later in the same week in front of an undeservedly sparse audience, mainly due to travel problems (the concert took place on the day of the second, failed bombing attempt on the London transport network). Olga Trifonova took the title role of the nightingale who charms Death out of claiming the Chinese emperor, displaying an agile, brightly-focussed soprano with a lovely light touch, and Sergei Leiferkus was in fine voice as the Emperor. There were some weaknesses in the supporting cast – I suspect that I could only hear Ailish Tynan’s sweet-voiced Kitchenmaid because I happened to be on the second row, and Irina Tchistyakova sang Death in a greyish contralto which gave no impression of inescapable magnetism. The BBC Philharmonic was conducted by Gianandrea Noseda.

Next month the BBC Proms continue, though most of this season’s opera performances are already over. Still to come are a concert performance of Tchaikovsky’s Iolanta by Welsh National Opera and a specially-adapted staging of Giulio Cesare by Glyndebourne Festival Opera. Meanwhile, at the Royal Opera House, the Kirov Opera will visit for a week with productions of Boris Godunov, Khovanshchina and Turandot.

© Ruth Elleson, 3 August 2005

August 

Khovanshchina performed by the Kirov Opera at the Royal Opera House: Konstantin Pluzhnikov as the scrivener with the chorus in Act 2 Scene 2 Photo: Natasha Razina

Expectations were mixed for the Kirov Opera’s week-long visit to the Royal Opera House under the baton of Chief Artistic and General Director Valery Gergiev. In 2000, a similar visit brought a stunning display of excellence in five examples of the company’s core Russian repertoire. Hopes were therefore high for the following year’s Verdi-fest, which turned out to be overpriced, overcrowded (schedule-wise), under-directed and under-cast. This year’s visit combined Russian and Italian repertoire, and the paying public taught the concert promoters a valuable lesson by not buying tickets at the advertised extortionate prices. By the week of the performances, tickets were being offered at three operas for the price of one, and of the three shows I attended, only a Saturday matinee of Turandot appeared to be sold out.

The week began with Boris Godunov, performed - with no interval - in the 1869 version, so without the Polish act. The Kirov’s last performance of Boris won much acclaim at a Proms concert performance in 2002. Of course the joy of a concert performance is that one doesn’t have the possibility of being distracted all evening by a misguided directorial ‘concept’, one of which was very much in evidence in this production.

The opera appeared to be set either underwater or in outer space; despite some fairly traditional costuming, the set consisted principally of spinning, glowing, tentacled mutations of the domes of St Basil’s. During Boris’s descent into madness, he appeared to be being threatened by a giant spider. I must confess that when I see this here in writing it almost makes psychological sense, but it certainly didn’t on the night. Furthermore, the basics of the staging were poorly thought out. The light levels were very low throughout. Anybody sitting higher up than the Grand Tier had a restricted view, thanks to the inexplicable use of a black scrim curtain. The production had one idea I rather liked; Boris’s robes of office consisted of a rigid cage on wheels which completely contained him from the neck down. What was less clear was why the Boyars had similar costumes.

Gergiev’s conducting was committed and exciting, but the singing was for the most part little more than reasonable. Vladimir Vaneev sang the title role with commitment but without much variety of tone. Among the rest of the cast, Vasily Gerello (Shchelkalov), Sergei Alexashkin (Pimen), Oleg Balashov (Otrepiev) and Olga Savova (Hostess) stood out.

The Kirov Opera Boris Godunov at the Royal Opera House: Evgeny Akimov as the Simpleton Photo: Natasha Razina

Khovanshchina, on the other hand, is one of the Kirov’s great war-horse productions, and about as traditional as it is possible to get. It was seen in London during the 2000 season and its standards since then have, if anything, improved.

The standard of casting was exceptionally high - where do I start? Olga Borodina sang Marfa, which is surely her signature role; with beautiful velvety contralto tone, she was the centre of calm at the heart of the last act. Most impressive among the opera’s remarkable quota of basses and bass-baritones was Viktor Chernomortsev as Shaklovity, with a huge-voiced and thrillingly idiomatic performance. Prince Ivan Khovansky was sung by Sergei Alexashkin in similarly impressive fashion. Vladimir Vaneev’s Dosifei was not quite on the same level (I would have preferred to hear Bezzubenkov) but the performance was certainly infinitely superior to his Boris at the start of the week.

As Prince Vasily Golitsyn, Yuri Marusin seemed not to have had the role quite comfortably within his register, but this sense of strain and almost ‘sprechgesang’ actually suited the role to the extent that I wondered if it was intentional.

Gergiev seems particularly at home with this opera, and there was not a dull musical moment. The production looks wonderful, with an impressive perspective rendering of St Basil’s for the penultimate scene, and the monastery going up in real flames at the end.

Turandot by the Kirov Opera at the Royal Opera House: Viktor Vikhrov as Altoum, Irma Gigolashvili as Liu, Gennady Bezzubenkov as Timur, Vladimir Galuzin as Calaf, Andrei Spekhov as Ping, Alexander Timchenko as Pang and Oleg Balashov as Pong in Act 2 Photo: Natasha Razina

Moving from old Russia to old China, Turandot proved a mixed blessing. The high point, without a doubt, was the solo singing. In the title role, Irina Gordei turned in a real diva performance, with voluptuous tone and the entire role easily within her voice. It was a performance of such sheer power that I think I shall forgive her the fact that there was barely a consonant (nor, for that matter, a recognisable vowel) to be heard. She was partnered by the Calaf of Vladimir Galuzin, who recently sang the role on the same stage in the Royal Opera’s production; he too supplied visceral intensity of sound. The riddle scene was more thrilling than I ever expect to hear again. Irma Gigolashvili’s Liu was sweetly sung, if lacking in the perfectly-formed legato one hopes to hear in this role.

Unfortunately the chorus singing proved a lot more problematic. The balance was all wrong - the ensemble sounded short on sopranos - and there were a lot of intonation problems. The production was more problematic still, with poor use of stage space thanks to a giant revolving platform in the centre which resulted in the chorus being confined to the sides. It was too dark, and some of the opera’s key moments - the first, non-singing appearance of Turandot, and the two appearances of the Emperor Altoum - took place on a high gantry which must have been visible only from the stalls.

The orchestra was on form; some of Gergiev’s tempi were a little erratic, but not really to the music’s detriment. Despite the shortcomings of the staging, I left after the performance feeling that I had heard something mind-blowing.

Turandot: Vladimir Galuzin as Calaf and Viktor Vikhrov as the Emperor Altoum in Act 2 Photo: Natasha Razina

Glyndebourne Festival Opera paid its customary visit to the BBC Proms on 23 August with David McVicar’s highly-acclaimed production of Handel’s Giulio Cesare, adapted for the stage of the Royal Albert Hall.

This was not supposed to be a star vehicle. With a cast including Sarah Connolly as Cesare and the wonderful Angelika Kirchschlager as Sesto, it takes some considerable talent (not to mention gall) for a 25-year-old to come into the production at a couple of months’ notice and steal the show. I speak, of course, of Danielle de Niese, the Australian-born, American-trained soprano, who stepped into Cleopatra’s seductive dancing-shoes and walked away with the performance.

De Niese is a natural. Beautiful, exotic-looking, an accomplished dancer with a great sense of fun (essential in McVicar’s high-camp, heavily choreographed staging) she is the complete package. Vocally she is extremely able; as fresh-sounding as could be hoped of a singer of this age, but with enough maturity to provide the requisite contrast in colour between, for example, the heartache of ‘Piangerò la sorte mia’ and the fireworks of ‘Da tempeste’. McVicar has her play Cleopatra as very young and a bit petulant - think Miranda Richardson in Blackadder - with a disarming awareness of her remarkable effect on men.

Besides those in the audience, the ‘men’ in question included the Cesare of Sarah Connolly, the primary female exponent of Handel heroic roles on the British opera stage. She has got masculine arrogance down to a fine art, and was especially impressive in the slow ‘Aure’ aria. I was pleased to be close to the stage for this Prom, though, as I got the distinct impression that her voice, and that of countertenor Christophe Dumaux’s Tolomeo, may have been difficult to hear in the further reaches of the Hall. A more full-bodied countertenor could be found in Rachid ben Abdeslam, as an outrageously camp Nireno.

Pathos was supplied by the deeply-felt Cornelia of Patricia Bardon; as Sesto, Kirchschlager delivered the youthful hot-headedness of the revenge arias and supplied possibly the best singing of the evening. The beautiful duet between mother and son was wonderfully blended, providing a breathtaking end to Act 1 in contrast to all the high spirits elsewhere in the performance.

William Christie conducted the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment with wit and verve where necessary, and a finely attuned understanding of the production; the concert had the orchestra behind the singers, and one could quite frequently see him turning around to take his cue from the stage. I am told he left the choice of tempi up to David McVicar.

Earlier in the month, the Proms hosted a concert performance of Tchaikovsky’s Iolanta by Welsh National Opera, with Nuccia Focile in the title role. This was a fine concert, with consistently good singing and orchestral playing, and particularly strong solo performances from Nuccia Focile (Iolanta) and Peter Hoare (Vaudémont).

Next month, one could say, is back to business as usual, although the season openers at both of London’s main houses are anything but standard repertoire. A Donizetti rarity is aired at the Royal Opera House - Dom Sébastien, roi de Portugal, in two concert performances - followed later in the month by a revival of La fanciulla del West and a new production of Nielsen’s Maskarade. Down the road at the Coliseum, the English National Opera opens with the stage premiere of The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant, Gerald Barry’s operatic rendering of Fassbinder’s play, followed by a return to more familiar territory with a revival of Die Zauberflöte.

© Ruth Elleson, 3 September 2005

September 

Maskarade at the Royal Opera House: ACT III Photo: Bill Cooper

English National Opera intends to open each new season with a brand-new opera, a project which began on September 16 with the stage premiere of Gerald Barry’s The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant. The opera, after Fassbinder’s play and film, tells the story of the destructive power of real emotion upon a life built on superficial foundations. Petra von Kant is a rich, successful fashion designer; she has been married in the past but finds herself falling instantly and deeply in love with the young model, Karin Thimm. The fragile state of Karin’s marriage, finances and fledgling career lead her to enter into a relationship with Petra more readily than she might otherwise have done, and she soon returns to her husband leaving Petra completely unprepared for dealing with the gilded emptiness of her existence.

The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant at the English National Opera: Stephanie Friede as Petra with Rebecca von Lipinski as Karin Photo: Stephen Vaughan

Rather than using an original libretto, the opera sets Fassbinder’s play (in Denis Calandra’s English translation) in its entirety. The resultant wordiness provided an ideal opportunity for the introduction of ENO’s controversial new surtitle system, somewhat underhanded I thought, but extremely helpful in this case. It has already been much debated whether universal surtitling will encourage sloppy diction in singers, but here we were forced to contemplate the possibility that composers themselves may no longer feel challenged to solve the intrinsic problem of verbal clarity by means of intelligent scoring.

The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant: Rebecca von Lipinski as Karin and Stephanie Friede as Petra Photo: Stephen Vaughan

The effect of this verbal overload is to give a sense of neurotic relentlessness, even when the dialogue is at its most mundane. Sometimes you barely notice that the music is there, though there are some brilliantly-scored character portraits (the best example being Petra’s teenage daughter Gabriele, sung by Barbara Hannigan). Barry is very accomplished at cranking up tension when required.

The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant: Linda Kitchen as Marlene in Act II Photo: Stephen Vaughan

Stephanie Friede scored a personal success as Petra von Kant, and she had accomplished support from Rebecca von Lipinski as Karin, Susan Bickley as her friend Sidonie, and Kathryn Harries as her mother. The mute role of Petra’s oppressed maid, Marlene, was taken by Linda Kitchen (why was an opera singer cast in a role which doesn’t involve uttering a single note?). Conductor André de Ridder was making his company debut; he maintained the unremitting drive of the score and kept the ensemble tight.

Richard Jones’s production had a single set, designed by Ultz. The scenery was huge and oversized, using only a fraction of the stage’s depth but extending right out over the orchestra pit, creating a catwalk where the front of the pit would be, and obscuring the stage boxes on each side with a kitchen (left) and bathroom (right). The similarities to the Jones Lulu were uncanny, with the large scale and garish kitsch wallpaper designs.

Die Zauberflöte at the English National Opera: Toby Spence as Tamino Photo: Robert Workman

Die Zauberflöte, in its second revival in two years, boasted what was for the most part an exceptional cast, dominated by the refreshing, endearing and hilarious Papageno of house favourite Andrew Shore. Jeremy Sams’s translation is already fairly approximate in the name of humour, but Shore added plenty of ad-lib of his own to the dialogue. Toby Spence returned to the role of Tamino, which suits his clear, secure tenor and boyish pantomime-hero looks perfectly. Janice Watson, all too rarely heard in this repertoire these days, was a creamy-voiced Pamina, and Clive Bayley’s Sarastro was sonorous and authoritative. Oddly, the weakest link was exactly where it had been in the previous revival: the casting of the Queen of Night. Helen Williams’s coloratura sounded effortful and she missed one high F completely; moreover, she failed to dominate the stage during her big show-stoppers. The three ladies (Lee Bisset, Susanna Tudor-Thomas and Yvonne Howard) also sounded a touch on the weak side, with a bottom-heavy ensemble sound. David Stern conducted with grace and sensitivity.

Nicholas Hytner’s beautiful production continues to provide one of the most enjoyable evenings of entertainment in the company’s repertoire. I shall try to return next month to hear the second cast.

La fanciulla del West at the Royal Opera House: Andrea Gruber as Minnie and Mark Delavan as Rance Photo: Catherine Ashmore

Puccini’s Wild West drama, La fanciulla del West, is now a somewhat neglected piece, due perhaps to its incompatibility with modern standards of political correctness. It is also short of romantic Puccini show-stoppers; only the big tenor aria, ‘Ch’ella mi creda’, stands out as a number for the selection discs, and the work otherwise stands or falls by the quality of its ensemble work and the ability of its principals to sustain dramatic tension.

La fanciulla del West: Jose Cura as Dick Johnson in Act II Photo: Catherine Ashmore

In Covent Garden’s revival this month, the ensemble was pretty much faultless, with strong individual casting (including Jonathan Lemalu as Jake Wallace and Clare Shearer as Wowkle) and a real sense of team spirit. In the leading roles, Andrea Gruber (Minnie) and José Cura (Dick Johnson) gained a number if very mixed first-night reviews; I can only assume that matters had improved by the time I saw the third performance, as I could barely fault their art. Cura sang with stamina and ringing ardour right up to the top of the voice; Gruber gave a weighty vocal performance (she sang Turandot here last winter) and a sympathetic dramatic portrayal of David Belasco’s gutsy heroine. Mark Delevan’s Jack Rance was also impressive, blending humanity and menace.

La fanciulla del West: Andrea Gruber as Minnie with Jose Cura as Dick Johnson in Act III Photo: Catherine Ashmore

The production dates back 28 years, but this was its first airing in the refurbished house and the first time I had seen it. Kenneth Adam’s ultra-realistic sets look terrific, even if there are still a few moments where operatic suspension of disbelief is required (why does snow fall vertically downward while the wind is whistling? How does the badly-injured Johnson get from Minnie’s door to her loft without leaving a trail of blood on the floor?)

The music was unrelenting in its full-bodied Italianate drive under the baton of Antonio Pappano, and the evening was a memorable one.

La fanciulla del West: Andrea Gruber as Minnie with Jose Cura as Dick Johnson in Act III Photo: Catherine Ashmore

I went to see Nielsen’s Maskarade at Covent Garden having never seen it before (I missed the Guildhall School of Music and Drama’s production a couple of years ago). I suppose I was hoping for some kind of Danish Fledermaus, or at least some wit and sparkle with a touch of seedy decadence.

What I actually found was an opera with a paper-thin plot: boy falls madly in love with mystery girl who conveniently turns out to be exactly the girl that his father is trying to make him marry. The music was sparkly and well-executed under the baton of Michael Schønwandt, but the songs were ruined by the director David Pountney’s attempt to translate the rhyming-couplet Danish into appropriate English. By the end of the evening we had heard every conceivable rhyme for the word ‘Maskarade’ (including ‘armada’, ‘Scheherazade’, ‘Schokolade’, and even ‘Douglas Bader’ and ‘Marquis de Sade’) and were thoroughly sick of the inevitability of every line.

Maskarade at the Royal Opera House: Robin Leggate as Leonard, Adrian Thompson as Arv , Michael Schade as Leander, Brindley Sherratt as Jeronimus and Kyle Ketelsen as Henrik, in Act I Photo: Bill Cooper

It would be nice to suppose that this obsession with rhyming had a direct effect on the casting of a certain Michael Schade as Leander the romantic lead. Here was a fine Mozartian tenor, singing with passion and style although hampered by the translation. The object of his affections, Leonora, was sung with creamy voice but muddy diction by Katie van Kooten, standing in for an indisposed Emma Bell. Baritone Kyle Ketelsen was an excellent Henrik, and there were excellent character contributions from Kari Hamnøy, Robin Leggate and Adrian Thompson.

Maskarade: Gail Pearson as Pernille and Kyle Ketelsen as Henrik Photo: Bill Cooper

The libretto makes the Maskarade itself out to be a den of unspeakable iniquity and corruption; when we finally arrive there in Act 3, we find it rather too sedate and sanitary. Perhaps this is intentional, demonstrating the scale of the overreaction of Leander’s and Leonora’s fathers, but there were tantalising hints that a sense of true decadence might have worked better. Cupid, a male dancer with feathered wings and heavy-duty boots, looked like an escapee from a David McVicar production, while other symbols were reminiscent of Annabel Arden’s staging of The Rake’s Progress for ENO. Either one of these directors could have brought out a feeling of seediness and hedonism in this opera upon which Pountney barely touched.

All in all, this was an evening which dragged where it should have danced, which was pristine when it should have been a bit grubby. And it would probably have been funnier in Danish.

Maskarade at the Royal Opera House: Richard Gauntlett as Cupid in Act III Photo: Bill Cooper

Two weeks earlier, the Royal Opera opened its new season with two concert performances; this year’s was a Donizetti rarity. Dom Sébastien, roi de Portugal is a large-scale work – as the French title and libretto suggest, it was written for Paris and has the customary five act structure (yes, and a ballet). It also has a highly unlikely plot – one of those which is so full of coincidences that it makes you wonder why the phrase ‘Fancy seeing you here!’ doesn’t crop up a few times – as well as a problematic dramatic structure with a weak ending.

It had a serviceable cast, led by Vesselina Kasarova, Giuseppe Filianoti and Alastair Miles, though one couldn’t help but think it might have left a more indelible impression had it featured one or more of the superstars of this repertoire. The great Italian baritone Renato Bruson, due to sing the role of the poet Camoëns, was indisposed and replaced by the admirable Carmelo Corrado Caruso. There could scarcely have been a more accomplished conductor than Mark Elder, who made much of the rhythmical ensemble, but this is not a masterpiece destined to re-enter the repertoire.

Next month, Keith Warner’s new production of the Ring Cycle at Covent Garden continues with Siegfried, with John Treleaven in the title role. English National Opera will mount revivals of Dialogues des Carmélites (with Catrin Wyn-Davies, Felicity Palmer and Josephine Barstow) and Salome (with Cheryl Barker, Sally Burgess and Robert Hayward). The Scottish Chamber Orchestra will visit the Barbican with a concert performance of Fidelio, conducted by Sir Charles Mackerras in celebration of his 8oth birthday, and in a change from the London scene, I will be reporting on Opera North’s concert tour of Nabucco.

© Ruth Elleson, 11 October 2005

October 

Siegfried at the Royal Opera House: Gerhard Siegel as Mime and John Treleaven in the title role Photo: Clive Barda

Keith Warner’s staging of the Ring Cycle continued this month at the Royal Opera House with Siegfried. The visual images of the first two acts are interesting; the Wanderer emerges from the cockpit of a wrecked single-seater plane which lies in the middle of Mime’s hut, it seems that in the absence of the red cord which bound the worlds together in the earlier operas, Wotan has to think of messier ways to gatecrash other people’s lives. Alberich emerges from Nibelheim with one arm rotting, like the corpses he was preparing for slavery in Das Rheingold; Fafner eventually emerges from the cave with the body of a dragon and the face of a giant.

Siegfried: Gerhard Siegel as Mime and John Tomlinson as the Wanderer Photo: Clive Barda

The first scene of Act Three provided perhaps the biggest talking point of Warner’s Ring staging to date, when at the end of Wotan’s discussion with Erda he ran her through with his spear. This was baffling; he had seemingly no motivation to do it other than a wish to assert power, and the assumption that Erda is now dead raises serious questions for the direction of the rest of the cycle. Will we be seeing a blank, nihilistic Götterdämmerung, with no prospect of rebirth? Could Warner even, perhaps, be making a point about the increasing destructiveness of modern life - for modern life is, indeed, where his production appears to be headed, having moved later in period with each of the first three operas?

Gerhard Siegel as Mime and John Treleaven as Siegfried Photo: Clive Barda

In the final scene all inspiration suddenly seemed to evaporate from the production, and Siegfried’s first meeting with Brünnhilde takes place against the same bland white revolving wall as we saw at the close of Die Walküre. When Siegfried first arrives, Brünnhilde is behind it; he makes his first great discovery of womanhood out of sight of the audience. The audience therefore find themselves unaccountably distanced from this happy union for which they have been waiting so long. The saving grace of this disappointing ending was the singing; Lisa Gasteen was on top form as Brünnhilde, and John Treleaven’s Siegfried stopped holding back and showed what ringing, heroic tone he really has at his disposal.

Siegfried: John Tomlinson as the Wanderer Photo: Clive Barda

Until then, Treleaven had seemed constrained; he was comprehensively upstaged by Gerhard Siegel’s snivelling snake of a Mime and John Tomlinson’s forceful Wanderer, both of whom gave more than memorable performances. Sarah Fox’s Woodbird had charm and an appropriate vocal quality. All, however, were masterfully partnered by Antonio Pappano and the orchestra of the Royal Opera House – orchestrally, at least, this is turning out to be a great Ring.

Siegfried: Peter Sidhom as Alberich Photo: Clive Barda

Phyllida Lloyd’s 1999 staging of Dialogues des Carmélites returned to English National Opera this month for its first revival. With Felicity Palmer as the dying Prioress and Josephine Barstow as Mère Marie, the cast had a formidable centre - indeed, along with Orla Boylan’s Madame Lidoine and Sarah Tynan’s clear-toned and excitable Soeur Constance, their performances gave the opera its dramatic character.

It is rather a shame that Catrin Wyn-Davies did not make the same impression in the central role of Blanche de la Force; she has a sympathetic stage presence and a naturally musical, appealing soprano, but her words were inaudible and there was little sense of her engagement with the character. The usually reliable Ashley Holland was similarly problematic as the Marquis de la Force, though Peter Wedd sang with a clear and round tone as the Chevalier.

Dialogues des Carmélites at the English National Opera: Catrin Wyn-Davies as Blanche in Act 1, Scene 9 Photo: Stephen Vaughan

The calm and order of the convent are beautifully depicted by the clean lines and smoothly sliding white flats of Anthony Ward’s set, and this world without colour seems particularly enticing in retrospect after the revolutionary mob have burst in and smeared the colours of the tricolore along the walls. The sense of desecration of a sanctuary is very much felt by the audience as well as the sisters at this point. Strangely, though, the emotion of the ‘Salve Regina’ ending came with a sudden punch at the moment when Blanche made her final entrance, rather than building with each fall of the guillotine blade. I suspect this was a result of insufficient tension in the orchestral playing under Paul Daniel.

Dialogues des Carmélites: the Carmelites in the final scene , Orla Boylan as Madame Lidoine (foreground) and Sarah Tynan as Soeur Constance (right) Photo: Stephen Vaughan

A blood-red moon is the opening image of English National Opera’s Salome, in a revival of David Leveaux’s staging timed to celebrate the centenary of the opera’s premiere. It is a powerful image which sets the tone for this short, savage, strangely beautiful opera, which in this instance turns out to be less about visuals and more about the psychological character-painting of a highly capable and intelligent cast.

The Australian soprano Cheryl Barker lent an extraordinary dramatic range to the title role. Her intensity and magnetism are remarkable, and she is one of those singers who, without looking like an adolescent herself, knows how to emulate one in her movements, facial expressions and delivery of words. Her (fully clothed) Dance of the Seven Veils was magnetic, and she won the audience’s attention and sympathy to the extent that when she demands the head of Jokanaan it seems like the most natural request in the world. If there is one thing she lacks, it is the lyrical heft to ride the wave of the orchestra in the final scene.

Salome at the English National Opera: John Graham-Hall as Herod Photo: Neil Libbert

John Graham-Hall’s weak-willed, neurotic Herod got every word across; Sally Burgess’s Herodias had enough allure to be believably the mother of this gripping Salome. Robert Hayward sang Jokanaan with authority and beautiful tone, but the text went for very little. How can Herod feel threatened by prophecies he can’t hear? Chorus tenor Geraint Hylton replaced an indisposed Andrew Rees as Narraboth and did a creditable job. The Trinidadian conductor Kwamé Ryan made his mark on his Coliseum debut.

Cheryl Barker as Salome with the head of Jokanaan in the final scene Photo: Neil Libbert

Charles Mackerras celebrated his 80th birthday by conducting the Scottish Chamber Orchestra in a concert performance of Fidelio at the Barbican.

Christine Brewer seems to have made herself known as the Leonore of our time – she sang the role on the recent Chandos recording, and will return to the platform of the Barbican next May to sing it for the London Symphony Orchestra. Here she made the long haul of ‘Abscheulicher!’ continually interesting, and navigated the vocal challenges of ‘O namenlose Freude’ and the closing chorus with no apparent loss of stamina. Regrettably Thomas Moser, as Florestan, lacked the same evenness and power, and the fast section of his Act Two opening aria contained an abundance of painful cracks.

The remainder of the cast was of an unusually high standard; Peter Rose’s Rocco, Lisa Milne’s likeable Marzelline and Terje Stensvold’s dastardly Pizarro deserve particular mention. Mackerras’s conducting inevitably won the most audience acclaim, with a standing ovation in some areas of the hall, and indeed it was a terrific performance, full of tension and musical detail. The inclusion of Leonore 3 in the ‘scene change’ slot in the second act was purely a showpiece for the orchestra, as there was no scenery to change; this too was an accomplished performance, though in the structure of the piece it seemed like an unnecessary diversion.

English Touring Opera’s Autumn tour opened at the Hackney Empire Theatre on 14 October with James Conway’s new production of Alcina. To bring the performance in at under three hours, there were heavy cuts to the score. It seemed odd to launch into the opera without Morgana’s very first aria; Bradamante’s fast showpiece of Act Two also went, and the soprano/treble character of Oberto was dispensed with altogether, along with his entire subplot.

Additionally, the evening was divided into only two sections, with the single interval taking place after Alcina’s great Act Two lament, ‘Ah mio cor’. This was perhaps justified by the fact that Amanda Echalaz’s big juicy-voiced account of the title role was by far the most accomplished performance of the evening. As Morgana, Tamsin Coombs, who in the usual scheme of things would have had the opportunity to stop the show for the end of Act One with ‘Tornami a vagheggiar’, displayed a sweet-toned and agile soprano but seemed to lack the confidence to make her character stand out. Perhaps we all now have unreasonable expectations of the energy levels in Handel opera, thanks to current directorial trends.

The staging was, indeed, almost entirely ‘straight’ – perhaps too much so for an opera about magic. There was no sense of being in another world and having to be brought back down to earth, which is surely what we should feel on behalf of Ruggiero – though I suppose Louise Poole, singing this role, must have landed with a thud at the sound of the dire horn-playing during her Act Three aria. She gave a sure-footed and warm-toned account of the role; the orchestra under Gary Cooper otherwise played very well, with a particularly nice timbre to the violins.

Also showing on the ETO tour is Falstaff, which regrettably I did not manage to catch in Hackney.

On one of my rare excursions outside London I caught up with Opera North, currently in exile from their home at the Grand Theatre in Leeds while it is renovated. The company is keeping things ticking over with concert tours of several operas, one of which, Nabucco, I saw at the Lowry in Salford Quays.

Despite singing in an English translation that seemed to have aged badly, all members of the cast acquitted themselves extremely well. Alan Opie was the consummate Verdi professional in the title role, never sacrificing tonal beauty or dramatic weight. Claire Rutter was singing her first Abigaille (though the performance I saw was the penultimate of the run) and despite having been called upon at a few weeks’ notice to learn this notorious role, proved it was completely within her voice with blistering semiquaver runs and the heft to hold the top of the big ensembles. As Fenena, Jane Irwin provided vocal contrast with a soft-edged but powerful mezzo. Tómas Tómasson was a touch one-dimensional as Zaccaria (the role was sung at other performances by Alistair Miles and Dean Robinson) while Leonardo Capalbo’s tenor is perhaps on the dry side for Ismaele.

Under David Parry, who found plenty of give in this particularly rhythmical score, the chorus and orchestra of Opera North gave of their best. This was a really impressive performance – it’s just a shame it wasn’t staged.

Next month, the Royal Opera revives Graham Vick’s staging of The Midsummer Marriage in celebration of the centenary of the birth of Michael Tippett. At the Linbury Studio Theatre, in the basement of the Royal Opera House, the company will also stage Britten’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The celebrated film director Anthony Minghella directs Madama Butterfly for English National Opera, where Katarina Karneus will also make her company debut in the title role of Serse. Opera North pays a visit to Sadler’s Wells with Kurt Weill’s Broadway hit, One Touch of Venus. Chelsea Opera Group will give a concert of Beethoven’s Leonore at the Queen Elizabeth Hall, and the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane will play host to a concert performance of Donizetti’s Il diluvio universale (The Great Flood), this year’s product of the ongoing collaboration between Opera Rara and the London Philharmonic Orchestra.

© Ruth Elleson, 6 November 2005

November 

The Midsummer Marriage at the Royal Opera House: Diana Montague as the She-Ancient and Brindley Sherratt as the He-Ancient with attendant dancers, in Act 1 Photo: Bill Cooper

London’s biggest operatic event of November was the premiere of English National Opera’s new production of Madama Butterfly by Oscar-winning film director Anthony Minghella. The production will also be seen at New York’s Metropolitan Opera and at the Lithuanian National Opera. On the strength of the director’s reputation it proved to be an extremely hot ticket, and the entire run sold out completely - something which has not happened for a full-scale opera production (as opposed to a musical/operetta) in this house for some seasons.

Minghella’s staging, designed by Michael Levine with costumes by Han Feng, is visually breathtaking. Much use is made of Bunraku dance and puppetry (including Minghella’s boldest and most controversial move, the use of a puppet as Butterfly’s child) and of stylised and exaggerated images created from mirrors and huge swathes of fabric. The casting of Mary Plazas in the title role is a similar visual triumph; she is under five feet tall and delicately built, which brought home for the first time in my life the fact that Pinkerton - though I doubt whether he fully appreciates it - is exploiting and sexually manipulating a young child. She simply doesn’t stand a chance faced with Gwyn Hughes Jones’s manly, worldly Pinkerton.

Madama Butterfly at the English National Opera: Gwyn Hughes Jones as Pinkerton, Alan Oke as Goro and Mary Plazas as Cio-Cio-San with company, in Act 1 Photo: Persson Photography

Plazas sings with finely nuanced phrasing and makes effective use of facial expression, though ultimately she doesn’t really have the vocal resources for the role in so large a house; despite David Parry’s sensitive conducting and her own remarkable dramatic instincts, scarcely a word came across for the whole of the first act and beyond. (I would dearly love to see her repeat the role in a medium-sized theatre where she would be more at home.) Jean Rigby was a rich-voiced Suzuki and Christopher Purves a competent Sharpless. Two of the supporting cast - Alan Oke as Goro and Mark Stone as the Bonze - were exceptional to the extent that they almost upstaged the main protagonists.

Many of the staging devices have been seen recently in other productions: the sliding screens are reminiscent of the previous ENO production, and the general minimalism of the staging seems to make reference to the Royal Opera’s current version. However, Levine’s designs place Minghella’s production quite firmly in a visual league of its own, from the dancing and puppetry of the opening sequence to the swathes of scarlet fabric which are reeled out from Butterfly’s obi at her suicide.

Madama Butterfly at the English National Opera: Blind Summit Theatre (puppet operators) with Mary Plazas as Cio-Cio-San and Jean Rigby as Suzuki, in Act 2 Photo: Persson Photography

Two of the puppets (created and operated by members of Blind Summit Theatre) were especially impressive; there was of course the child, who seemed to possess every heartbreaking nuance of a living, breathing human being, though given the intimacy of most of his scenes, it took a while to get used to the three black-clad puppeteers who surrounded him. There was also a Butterfly puppet, who appeared in a touchingly idealised dream sequence during the prelude to the final scene while the real Butterfly knelt waiting for the morning.

In terms of sheer beauty and style, there was little to fault this production. Musically things were above average, some undersized voices being my main issue on this front. However, the piece might as well have been sung in Greek for all the words that one could hear. Surely it is the responsibility of a show which pulls the crowds so effortlessly to disprove the general view that opera cannot be understood - even in one’s native language?

Serse at the English National Opera: Graeme Danby as Elviro and Sarah Tynan as Atalanta, in Act 1 Photo: Clive Barda

Later in the month, Nicholas Hytner’s production of Serse made a welcome return to the English National Opera with Noel Davies in the pit and a strong new cast. The mezzo Katarina Karnéus made her house debut in the title role, and to say that I possibly preferred her to Sarah Connolly’s performance in the previous revival is high praise indeed. Her accurate, agile voice is perfectly equal to Handel’s wide range of musical challenges; she moves well on stage and looks absolutely terrific in the costumes. However, she was almost upstaged by two of her colleagues; the strong, striking counter-tenor and keen stage presence of the American Lawrence Zazzo as Arsamene, and the irrepressible Sarah Tynan as a show-stealing Atalanta. There was possibly a little bit of miscasting elsewhere. Janis Kelly seemed a rather matronly Romilda, though there was little wrong with her musical instincts (and comic timing - her duet with Zazzo in the final act was hilarious) but the real weak link was the Amastre of Lucy Schaufer, who lacked projection and had to force her way through the score.

Serse at the English National Opera: Janis Kelly as Romilda with Katarina Karnéus in the title role, in Act 1 Photo: Clive Barda

Hytner’s production has an emphasis on the opera’s comedy, much if it supplied by the (usually mute) chorus, but when necessary finds a still centre for the introspection of the slower arias. The staging is a delight, with David Fielding’s Vauxhall Gardens designs, and will (I hope) bear a great deal more repetition.

The Royal Opera’s contribution to Tippett’s centenary year was a revival of Graham Vick’s 1996 staging of The Midsummer Marriage, a surreal and sometimes beautiful rite-of-passage fantasy with as much emphasis on dance as vocal music. It was the company’s third piece of imaginative programming this season; it is a shame that it played to a half-empty house.

The Midsummer Marriage at the Royal Opera House: Amanda Roocroft as Jenifer and Will Hartmann as Mark, in Act 3 Photo: Bill Cooper

In an opera which invites us to accept that contentment in one’s existence is more likely to be found on one’s own doorstep than at the end of a rainbow, and that soul searching is liable to bring one full circle, it was the no-nonsense supporting cast who supplied the greatest degree of enjoyment and memorable stage work. The young Dutch soprano Cora Burggraaf, in her company debut, made the greatest impression as the down-to-earth secretary Bella, and as her opposite number, Jack, Gordon Gietz was almost her equal. (The opera is full of parallels with Mozart’s Die Zauberflöte; one of the most obvious is this presence of a ‘worldly’ couple with no aspiration to the summit of spiritual achievement. Like Papageno and Papagena, they are far more sympathetic than their high-minded associates.)

In the more central roles, there were strong performances from Will Hartmann as Mark and Amanda Roocroft as Jenifer, though the latter was hampered by poor costuming and direction. John Tomlinson seemed ideal for the role of King Fisher, though he now sacrifices beauty of tone in favour of strong characterisation. Ron Howell’s choreography was slick and compelling; the link between the vocal and dance worlds was ably supplied by Brindley Sherratt and Diana Montague as the Ancients. Richard Hickox conducted with clarity, always supportive of the singers.

The Midsummer Marriage at the Royal Opera House: John Tomlinson as the King Fisher, in Act 1 Photo: Bill Cooper

To finish off the opera calendar for 2005, English National Opera will be staging Neil Armfield’s production of Billy Budd (already seen at Opera Australia and the Welsh National Opera), with a cast headed by Simon Keenlyside, Timothy Robinson and John Tomlinson. There is more Britten at the Royal Opera’s Linbury Studio Theatre in the company’s latest small-scale production - A Midsummer Night’s Dream, starring many of the company’s own young artists - while in the main house at Covent Garden, Un ballo in maschera returns from last season, this time starring Nina Stemme and Dmitri Hvorostovsky.

© Ruth Elleson, 5 December 2005

Ruth Elleson is London's youngest opera critic. An Internet pioneer, she posted her first reviews on the net at the age of 19. Originally from the historic city of Durham in the north of England, she moved to London after university at York. She now attends up to 200 opera and concert performances a year, A frequent visitor to the conservatoires and vocal competitions, she has an unrivalled knowledge of upcoming vocal talent. A singer in her own right, Ruth performs as a mezzo-soprano in the professional five-voice choir of the Church of the Annunciation, Marble Arch.

See the current Letter from London and also Letters from London 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003 and 2004