Britten’s ‘Peter Grimes’ – Royal Opera – ROH
29 Jun 2011 1 Comment
in ROH Reviews
Peter Grimes, ROH
As any English opera connoisseur can tell you, Benjamin Britten’s music sets a tone, an atmosphere, that is almost impossible to ignore when creating a production. Thus it is never a surprise when his work is presented against a background of different shades of grey by a cast dressed in black. But the music is so evocative, so certain in it’s attitude that you could never begrudge any opera house a production of this nature; to me there simply seems to be no other way to do it. This is not to say you cannot be creative within those confines, but you would be hard pressed to find a good production of Peter Grimes set in anything but muted and dark shades.
Thus it was no surprise when I walked into the Royal Opera House to see the Turneresque black, white dashed curtain at the front of the stage. And the rest of the set, designed by John Macfarlane, was simply variations on this ever astute theme. Huge, mobile panels changed the space and shape of the stage for each scene, against a daylight-lit backdrop, very evocative of the moody North Sea. Simple and effective. I loved the efficiency of a relatively bare stage, altered by the panels alone. This worked particularly well for the scene in Grimes’ hut where suddenly the stage was a wash of white, stark and unforgiving for the scene with his new apprentice.
Likewise, the lighting, designed by David Finn, was as daylight, showing simply and effectively the time of day and the general atmosphere of each scene. This overcast little town was just as Britten’s music dictates.
Having seen Ben Heppner play a somewhat uneven Tristan last year, I was more than a little dubious about his role as Peter Grimes. He is no great actor, and in my head, Grimes is not Heppner. However, for the most part, he proved me wrong. This is clearly a role he knows very well, and one he plays with complete self-certainty. Unfortunately his acting does leave something to be desired; just a little too mild, a little too slow to react, a little too overdramatic. But on the whole he’s not an inappropriate Grimes. His voice is very controlled, and almost contained which works well for the troubled fisherman, and his tense madness in the penultimate scene was palpable. Heppner is a perfect example of a singer who can act, but he is not a singer-actor. The acting is very clearly second to his voice, which is how it should be in opera, but then again, I have seen much better acting from singers on the Royal Opera House stage. Heppner’s portrayal was of a man utterly driven and without kindness, and thus it was hard to sympathise with him for the majority of the performance. I worried, as the story progressed and I liked him less and less, that when it came to his final downfall, I wouldn’t care enough for the ending to be powerful. But somehow, and I’m not sure why, by Grimes’ final appearance, I was sobbing. Inexplicably heartbreaking.
The star of the show was, undoubtedly, Amanda Roocroft’s Ellen Orford. Having seen her play this role before, a couple of years ago with English National Opera, I was astonished by how much better she is today. She has grown into the role, and her voice is fantastic. Rich, foreboding, trusting, innately good, she was Ellen, just as she should be. My sole criticism would be just a little too much vibrato in places, but this is a truly small issue in such a wonderful portrayal. For me, the highlight of her performance was in Act I, persuading the townspeople that she would go and fetch Grimes’ new apprentice, singing “Let her among you who is without blame, cast the first stone”. A truly perfect Ellen. Kind, caring, good, tragic. Particularly powerful were her actions in the final moments of the opera, when, raising her church music before her face, she joined the rest of the town in their poisoned silence.
As Balstrode, Jonathan Summers was powerful – in voice and action – and intriguing in his attentions towards Grimes. Almost friendly, he was a very interesting force within the seaside community. An enjoyable and skilled performance to watch. Unfortunately, Catherine Wyn-Roger’s Auntie, whilst careful in her portrayal, was predictable and largely unimaginative. She didn’t bring enough gusto to the part, and nothing in her raised new ideas about the character. Likewise, Roderick Williams’ Ned Keene seemed to promise a lot, and deliver very little. He was just as Ned Keene should be, but nothing more. There was nothing interesting about this portrayal and, unfortunately, aside from his astute singing of “Old Joe has gone fishing”, not much about his voice that could be named remarkable. Much to my disappointment, Rebecca Bottone who was cast to sing the First Niece, was indisposed and instead, alongside Anna Devin as the Second Niece, Katy Batho covered the role. The nieces were welcome relief from the unrelenting austerity of the rest of the town; as actresses they were both fun and astute, teasing the men, and befriending the women. However, once again, their voices were largely unremarkable and I was left wondering if the absence of Bottone – whom I know to have an extraordinarily beautiful voice – may have taken more than it’s fair toll on the duo.
Special notice, however, must be taken of two from this uneven cast; Stephen Richardson’s Hobson was perfection. His voice deep and rich, his resolve to not do Grimes’ dirty work based on palpable uncertainty and fear. This was a strong man, conflicted over his work, his duty, and the stigma of helping Grimes. Hobson has never before been a character who stood out much to me, but in this production he was truly wonderful. The other performance which impressed me greatly was Jane Henschel’s Mrs Sedley. The gossiping old lady, desperate for her laudanum, and to keep her name, was perfectly executed; fussy, easily flustered, ever eager to look over her neighbour’s fences, and the unknowing leader of the town’s underhanded ways. Her voice was also astute and just right for this un-grandmotherly old woman.
Of course, you cannot have a good Peter Grimes without a good chorus, and as far as I’m concerned, choruses don’t get much better than at the Royal Opera House, under the direction of the ever brilliant Renato Balsadonna. Having said that, however, I felt – and I hate to say this – that the chorus at English National Opera in 2009 were better. They had more force; they made me scared and worried for Grimes, whilst at the ROH I was just concerned. It’s hard to know whether this was caused by staging or vocal strength, but either way, the chorus in Britten’s opera can and should be just marginally better than they were.
Similarly, I was surprised that the Orchestra of the Royal Opera House didn’t quite reach their usual heights. I’ve always felt that the four sea interludes are a good measure of whether an orchestra is really made for Britten, and whilst it was certainly wonderful, again, I’ve heard better. This was surprising considering how consistently brilliant this orchestra is. Perhaps it was the unfamiliarity of Britten – which is performed far too rarely at the ROH, – perhaps it was conductor Andrew Davies – which would also surprise me given how wonderful he is in general, – but something wasn’t working quite as well as it usually does in the orchestra pit. Having said that I still cried with the beauty and overwhelming brilliance of the music, but I am inclined to attribute that to Britten’s incredible compositional skills rather than the orchestra.
Although I do not like to compare productions too closely, there are two points which I need to present here. David Alden’s Peter Grimes at ENO had two particular moments in it which I dare say have ruined me for any lesser productions I will ever see for the rest of my life. The first is the moment that John, Grimes’ second apprentice, dies. In this production at the ROH, originally directed by Willy Decker, John descends the ladder and disappears, and it is the sudden falling of the ladder, joined with the boy’s scream, that marks his death. Although powerful, Alden did it better. At ENO, John stretched up one hand, reaching for Grimes, climbing down a rope, and it was the slipping of the rope, and the sudden, silent disappearance of his hand that showed his demise. It was so simple, so shocking, so perfect a moment. The tragedy of that is inexplicably poignant, and still so clear in my mind. The second comparison I wish to make is the penultimate scene, which shows Grimes, alone, half-mad with grief, on the beach. The two productions dealt with this very similarly, giving Grimes a bare, stark, darkened stage on which to move and go mad. The difference was, in Alden’s production, the surtitles were turned off along with the lights in the orchestra pit and we, the audience, were left with an utterly unforgiving look at Grimes. No visual relief, just the pure sadness of this lone, outcast, on a beach, mere hours before a death we know is inevitable. These two moments will be forever branded on my memory.
Despite my criticisms, I still cried from the power and beauty of this opera for the vast majority of it’s running time. It was hot and uncomfortable and I was tired and still I wouldn’t have left for anything. Furthermore I don’t think it would be inaccurate to say that my criticisms tell more about the brilliance of Alden than they do the shortcomings of Decker. This production is still wonderful, and well worth seeing. Particularly – I should imagine – on a night when Rebecca Bottone is back to fill the First Niece’s flirtatious shoes.
Verdi’s ‘Macbeth’ – Royal Opera – HMV Curzon, Wimbledon from ROH
14 Jun 2011 Leave a Comment
in ROH Reviews
Macbeth, ROH
When I write these reviews – yes, I still remember, even after a nine month break – I try for the most part to remain neutral on the topic of the actual music as written by the composer… but, when it comes to Verdi’s take on Macbeth I cannot help but think ‘why Verdi?’. Why not R. Strauss, or Wagner, or Britten, or even Bartók? And, since they are somewhat unavailable nowadays, what I would give to have Harrison Birtwistle write a new version for the repertoire. The music, in so many places, is ridiculously inappropriate to the story. The flourishes and grandeur of Verdi are simply out of place in Shakespeare’s dark, broody tale of greed and revenge.
So why did I go and see it? I know Verdi, I know what his work is like. In fact one of the only things I know more about than I of Verdi, is Shakespeare. The reason I went to see Macbeth was a desire to consume as many versions and interpretations of the story before I launch into the production I am directing this Summer (of the play, not the opera).
I also grossly underestimated how bad the libretto is. Bereft of almost every important moment, the text for this opera is nothing more than a husk of the story it was written to be.
However, putting all that aside, there are the characters and enough of a story line present in the opera to build a good production. Unfortunately, Phyllida Lloyd’s interpretation is utterly unimaginative and, for the most part, painfully clumsy. It is a perfect example of how not to do Macbeth. Unnecessarily over the top, not only did the overall look of this production jar with the music (which jars with the words, which jar with the story) but the ornate flourishes added to the set, no doubt to enhance the flourishes that are so out of place in the music, – a small golden box-cage for Lady Macbeth to look through, seven golden horsemen on stilts, and the Kink and Queen’s cheaply rattling costumes – were done so with a complete lack of artistry.
Having said that, there were a handful of redeeming moments. The witches were very powerful, dressed in black with red turbans, sporting staffs. Although I have a problem with the chorus of witches – because of the original symbolism of three – the visual of them onstage was quite effective and the lighting in particular, designed to bring out their strange features and their earthy atmosphere, made the weirdness of the Weïrd Sisters (as presented in Shakespeare’s script) more poignant. Equally, there were a few arias from Macbeth, performed under startlingly appropriate white light. But the other moment I thought worked well was right at the end when Macbeth’s body was strung up against the back of a huge box-cage – a prominent feature in the fragmented set – and witches appeared in the final moments of the opera to climb up the outside of the cage and, effectively, surround him. This was a strong visual and definitely a high point to end on.
Unfortunately those rare moments of effective theatre are far from my mind when it comes to considering the cast of this shambolic production. Voices, on the whole, were strong and of the quality you would expect from such a prestigious opera house, but character portrayal left much to be desired.
It should be noted, at this point, that I saw this production streamed live to a cinema screen, rather than from a velvet seat in the Royal Opera House. Thus comments on voices and sound have to be accepted on the basis that I was listening to it through speakers, rather than experiencing the live sound. However even with that hindrance, a certain amount can be appreciated and critiqued quite effectively; it just makes judgements on projection and the balance of sound a little difficult.
As Macbeth, British baritone Simon Keenlyside is aesthetic and vocal perfection. Handsome and a little weather-worn, he looks just the way a soldier ought to look, and his rich voice filled and made good use of the demanding role. Unfortunately his acting was what I can only describe as tepid. He conveyed very little emotion and, as the performance progressed, made it increasingly difficult to care about the character. By Act III I was begging Macduff to kill him quick and deliver us all from this mild portrayal.
Conversely, Liudmyla Monastyrska’s Lady Macbeth was cartoonishly overplayed to the point of being comedic. It was completely hysterical to watch her dramatically lie back on her bed, one hand raised to her forehead, nostrils flaring, eyebrows overacting. And when she wasn’t using all of her energy to overdo her dramatic facial acting, she was robotic, stoic, apparently doing just what she had been told and nothing more. I will, however, admit that vocally she is an absolutely perfect Lady Macbeth. Powerful, commanding, skillful. If I liked the opera I would be searching for a recording featuring this beautiful voiced Ukrainian soprano.
As Macduff, Dimitri Pittas was stiff and unrelentingly intense; his portrayal had little or no texture and his singing, whilst technically sound, was nothing to write home about. Likewise Raymond Aceto’s Banquo was all intensity, no feeling, although there is rather more to be said for his voice, which was deep, strong and beautifully resonant.
I was also sad to be reminded how inconsequential a part Malcolm was in Verdi’s piece, especially given that he was being sung by wonderful Jette Parker Young Artist Steven Ebel. Having seen Ebel perform before I know he is capable of far more than either the part or the production offered him. Again, though, his voice – what little I heard of it – was beautiful.
From what I could gauge through the speakers at the HMV Curzon, Wimbledon, the orchestra of the Royal Opera House were on top form, which, given that they were under the baton of ROH Music Director Antonio Pappano, is no surprise. Skillful in most genres and aspects of opera, the Italian school is truly his forte.
Likewise the Chorus of the Royal Opera House, under Renato Balsadonna, were on fine form as usual and, as I’ve said, I did particularly like them as the witches.
Despite it’s better aspects, this truly is a production that did very little to enrich my artistic life. I left amused by the farcical moments, annoyed by how long Macbeth took to die, and absolutely certain about how I’m not going to direct Macbeth in August. Meanwhile I’ll be working on a new libretto and waiting for Harrison’s phone call.
The Most Perfect Opera Ever Written
08 Sep 2010 Leave a Comment
in About Opera
It has been said that ‘Le nozze di Figaro’ is “the most perfect opera ever written” and there is certainly a very good case to be made in support of this statement; catchy tunes, an enticing story, great characters; and when produced really well (here I’m thinking of David McVicar’s 2006 ROH production, http://operagurl.wordpress.com/2010/06/17/mozart’s-‘le-nozze-di-figaro’-royal-opera-roh/) it is utterly delightful. I dare say you could not ask for more, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it was widely and critically true that for 150 years or so after it was written it really was “the most perfect opera ever written”.
However, in the last 100 years music has changed a lot, as have our attitudes towards the issues of class raised in ‘Le nozze di Figaro’, and I can’t help wondering if maybe it’s just a little bit outdated, that we have perhaps outgrown it.
Of course Mozart will always have his place in music and ‘Le nozze di Figaro’ is definitely one of his finest pieces (in my mind rivaled only by his ‘Requiem’), but surely in an age when composers like Stravinsky have already been and gone, we need something more. Surely our tastes have expanded enough that “the most perfect opera every written” needs to be musically interesting as well as charming.
Despite my own darker tastes I am not about to suggest something by Berg, or even Britten as “the most perfect opera”. Instead I have been considering Janácek, and in particular, ‘The Cunning Little Vixen’. Although it seems that most consider ‘Katja Kabanova’ to be his operatic masterpiece, I personally find that when composers become too sentimental or romantic the music loses something (credibility perhaps), and I think that ‘Katja Kabanova’ has that flaw. Whereas ‘The Cunning Little Vixen’ is simply a life story, which we must accept as perfect in it’s imperfections. It is not overdramatic or romanticised, it’s just told simply and honestly. While some may crave the comedy and light-hearted romance of ‘Le nozze di Figaro’, with all it’s prettiness and cases of mistaken identity, it is exactly the simplicity and truth of ‘The Cunning Little Vixen’ that to me would mean a wider appeal. Quite understandably there are bound to be those who find a story about animals to be somewhat immature or unappealing, but I would answer that problem with two points. First of all the animals are extremely human and it certainly draws a parallel between the animal kingdom and the world of men. Furthermore, the human characters take up a large proportion of the action anyway and their story is equally enjoyable in and of itself.
All the characters, animal and human, are extremely well drawn. Vixen Sharp-Ears is the perfect young girl; idealistic, cunning – of course – a little naïve, light-hearted and utterly lovable. As I say, the animals are very anthropomorphic and thus a lot more relatable anyway. In my opinion it is the character of the Forester who is the most well-rounded. Right from the beginning, he has a wonderful wholeness to him; the forester and hunter who contemplates his relationships with his family, the loves lost and, of course, the animals in he forest, Vixen Sharp-Ears in particular. And despite our love of Vixen Sharp-Ears herself we cannot truly hate the Forester for his treatment of her; he is doing his job and clearly has problems of his own, as well as being unaware of her consciousness in the way we, the audience, are.
And all this before we even come to the music!
And before we do, let me make one small confession; I do not speak, nor understand Czech and therefore the libretto is an aspect of ‘The Cunning Little Vixen’ which I am unable to fairly assess. However, if the translation on my English recording (recorded in 2003 at the Royal Opera House, conducted by Sir Simon Rattle, with Thomas Allen and Gwynne Howell: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Janácek-Covent-Garden-Royal-Orchestra/dp/B0000C83YR/ref=sr_1_5?ie=UTF8&s=music&qid=1283936212&sr=1-5) is anything to go by, the libretto is delightful. As far as I can tell it is simple, fast-paced and comical, but with the space for sadness and quiet reflection, all of which is supported and enhanced by the music.
My first contact with ‘The Cunning Little Vixen’ was at the Royal Opera House about six months ago. From the first few notes I was quite overcome by the beauty of the music. The tunes are simple enough to be catchy but not expected and every note seems perfectly placed. The vocal lines are fluid and unpredictable and Janácek has a wonderful talent for causing clashes and jarring notes which are still beautiful rather than uncomfortable to listen to. The other thing which he is exceedingly good at is keeping his singers quiet when necessary and letting the orchestra fill those spaces with the most exquisite music. This is particularly poignant at the Forester’s house when Vixen Sharp-Ears has been tied up. Suddenly the auditorium is filled with the sweetest melodies. There really is nothing quite like it; so full of hope and optimism, and yet the music still allows us to enjoy the silence. It is very difficult to describe how the music affects me. It makes me almost breathless and I often find myself welling up, my stomach doing somersaults, my heart in my mouth. That sounds almost melodramatic and oversensitive, but as I say it is hard to describe the feeling exactly. Needless to say, music makes me far more emotional than most things, and ‘The Cunning Little Vixen’ is no exception.
The other thing this opera does extremely well is include children in a way that is both enjoyable for the audience and suitable for the children participating. Far too often operas seem to exploit children, using them as crowd-pleasing sensationalism or giving them roles which are entirely unsuitable. Despite my love of both the opera and the part, I cannot deny that the role of Miles in Britten’s ‘The Turn of the Screw’ is really far too adult for the nine to twelve-year-olds who must sing it. On the other side we have children’s choruses who sing in operas like ‘Carmen’. There never seems to be a real reason for their presence other than it being crowd-pleasing, and I am always painfully aware that they are acting. By comparison ‘The Cunning Little Vixen’ gives children roles as animals who all have their own short solo parts. In this way the children are never given too much to do and they are also not hidden in a chorus which, as I say, always makes me see them as actors rather than the parts they are singing. The music of ‘The Cunning Little Vixen’ is, overall, a little too complex for children, but the parts they are given are actually appropriately simple and rather lovely, and do not detract from the wonderful complexities of the rest of the music.
It is for all these reasons that I believe Janácek’s masterpiece should be named “the most perfect opera ever written”. Of course this term must be applied loosely anyway as art is largely subjective and it is near impossible to say that something is completely ‘perfect’. Furthermore, many pieces of music draw their brilliance from the fact that they are imperfect, thus it would be incredibly presumptuous of me to say it is “the best opera ever written”. However, if we apply the same criteria to ‘The Cunning Little Vixen” that we must assume was applied to ‘Le nozze di Figaro’ when it was dubbed “the most perfect opera”, we can see why ‘The Cunning Little Vixen’ might be a good replacement. It has the same overall light-heartedness with space for sadness and tragedy when needed. The music is (in my humble opinion) far more beautiful than Mozart’s somewhat outdated opera, and the characters are just as interesting; vivid and entertaining. I have great respect for both composers and love both pieces of work a great deal, but for me it is ‘The Cunning Little Vixen’ that makes me want to cry with happiness for the sheer beauty of it.
Strauss’ ‘Salome’ – Royal Opera – ROH
17 Jul 2010 Leave a Comment
in ROH Reviews
Let me premise this by saying that my loyalty to McVicar and my love of Strauss make it very difficult for me to fairly review this production, but I shall employ my better judgement and be as honest as possible.
I have owned this production on DVD since 2008, when it was originally performed at ROH and have been keen to see it live for the whole two years since I missed it then. Words cannot describe my delight at discovering it was being revived, and my eagerness ensured I would be satisfied with nothing less than the best seats in the house. I don’t know what it is about Salome that I find so compelling, but it holds some strange magic for me, and I would never pass up an opportunity to see it. The same goes for the play.
Two things surprised me about last night’s performance; the first was the feebleness of Gerhard Siegel’s Herod, and the second was the incredible power of Irina Mishura’s Herodias. Whereas with the original casting of Thomas Moser and Michaela Schuster in 2008 when I felt that Moser was rather apt and Schuster a little too exaggerated, this seems to have been almost reversed now. I don’t think there is really much point in producing Salome unless you have a really strong Herod. Too much emphasis is put on the importance of Jokanaan and Salome; they are of course incredibly important, but it seems that because of this, Herod and Herodias are a little forgotten. Vocally Siegel was no match for Mishura’s Herodias or Angela Denoke’s Salome, and thankfully for him, he is never seen onstage with Jokanaan, who was sung by the marvelous Johan Reuter. As Herod Siegel was just very weak, his voice only just making it over the orchestra, and his acting really wasn’t much stronger. Altogether, I was very unimpressed by his performance. Furthermore, he displayed none of the perverseness needed in his attentions towards Salome. Very disappointing.
However, Mishura’s Herodias was quite astounding – arguably the best thing in the production. Her rich voice was dipped in staccato bitterness, dark and foreboding in the lower register and appropriately hysterical and mad in the higher notes. She was almost desperately seductive and wonderfully dismissive of Herod. I cannot imagine a better Herodias. Simply spectacular.
I felt largely uncertain about Angela Denoke’s performance of Salome. While her voice is incredibly powerful and she seems to have no trouble with the part whatsoever, she also seems too wise for the role. I can’t say she looks too old, because she actually has a wonderfully youthful face (although Wolfgang Göbbel’s lighting design does not display this to it’s best advantage), but she does seem almost too in control of her body – she moves like an all-knowing woman, rather than an uncaring girl, which is how I always think of Salome. However, as I say, her voice was pronounced and filled the role fantastically, particularly when she was demanding the head of Jokanaan. On the other hand, I was a little disappointed by her penultimate aria (Ah, du wolltest mich nicht deinen Mund küssen lassen). It had some extremely strong points and the visual of her with the head is incredibly powerful, but she couldn’t command my complete attention throughout, as is so necessary. Or perhaps I am just too used to listening to Behrens sing that part so extraordinarily well.
One part of Denoke’s performance which seemed absolutely perfect was her too brief interaction with Andrew Staples’ Narraboth. Although Staples’ voice didn’t stand out particularly, his physicality and performance as an actor were beyond reproach. Just the way he looked at Salome was enough to win me over to his performance. Likewise, Sarah Castle’s Page watched him through eyes which clearly foresaw tragedy. However, her voice has rather more to be said about it. Desperately tragic and raw she was quite brilliant; a joy to behold.
Other notable performances came from Nicolas Courjal’s fabulous and deep voiced First Soldier and Royal Opera regular Jeremy White as the Fifth Jew. Both were very enjoyable. It is also always a pleasure to see the Jette Parker Young Artists amongst the cast: Robert Anthony Gardiner, Steven Ebel and Dawid Kimberg were all wonderful to see, and I only wish they had been singing more prominent roles.
Finally, of course, we come to Johan Reuter’s turn as Jokanaan. This is a part which carries so much weight vocally and within the story, and following in the admirable footsteps of Michael Volle (who sang the role in 2008) is no small feat. But Reuter rose to the challenge and even went further. It cannot be denied that he is poignantly better looking than Volle, which certainly helps with the interaction between him and Salome, but moreover, his voice is just astonishingly rich – the type to rival greats such as Tomlinson – and the power with which he sang was really quite remarkable. I will most definitely be watching him in the future.
The main thing about this production which irritates me is the set, designed by Es Devlin. It is brilliant for the most part – particularly the curved stairway – and beautifully lit, but there are one or two small flaws. The first is the decision to have the dining hall above the main set, especially as it is in such a way that you cannot see all of the room above, but just a glimpse. While this is a good idea in theory, it actually annoys the eyesight when you look at the stage. Thankfully, when not in use, it is covered by a black screen, so you do feel, as the opera progresses that this error is corrected. The other problem I have is with the sets for the Dance of the Seven Veils. McVicar’s decision to have this as a journey through Salome’s childhood and adolescence is questionable anyway, but it is not helped by the doorways which move across the stage as they go from room to room, distracting from the dancing itself (of which there is very little) and the music. Also, as this occurs, slow moving pieces of black and white video are projected onto the back screen, and to be honest, not all of these pieces are much to look at. However, the way in which the main set is pulled back into the darkness at the beginning of the dance, and then brought forward out of the shadows at the end, is a stroke of genius. The strength of this visual had my heart pounding in my chest and my skin tingling.
There is one part of this production with which I cannot find fault, and that is the wondrous music rising from the orchestra pit. Conducted by Hartmut Haenchen I have rarely heard the Orchestra of the Royal Opera House on such good form, which is really saying something. They were tightly held together, but with fluidity and room to breathe, and no where was this so prominent than during the Dance of the Seven Veils. Just breathtaking.
Overall I cannot fairly say this is a perfect production, because it simply isn’t. But none of it’s flaws take away from those powerful, heart-pounding moments, of which this production is full. If nothing else, this is a piece of music which I consider to be the composer’s masterpiece, and which is always a joy to hear, particularly when performed by such a brilliant orchestra.
Duncan Meadows as Naaman & Nadja Michael as Salome in McVicar's 2008 production of Salome for ROH
BP Big Summer Screens – Verdi’s ‘Simon Boccanegra’ – Live from ROH, to Trafalgar Square
17 Jul 2010 Leave a Comment
in ROH Reviews
I have to admit to being rather amused at the excitement surrounding Placido Domingo’s appearance at the Royal Opera House. In my experience, when they advertise and promote a singer or a performance to the extent which they have done for Simon Boccanegra, the public will expect the performance to be brilliant, see it as brilliant, and go away believing it was brilliant, regardless of whether it actually was or not. And truly, when it comes down to it, there were at least two voices to be heard on Tuesday night that were just as wonderful as Domingo’s, and – dare I say it? – one better. Stepping in for Ferruccio Furlanetto as Fiesco at extremely short notice was Royal Opera regular, and personal favourite of mine, John Tomlinson. I don’t mean to lessen the beauty and skill of Domingo’s voice – which truly is wonderful – but Tomlinson never really fails, and the tone of his bass is really in it’s own league. Even singing from the wings (while Furlanetto acted the role) his voice filled the auditorium with such incredible power and splendour. His truly is a tone that hits the soul and resonates throughout. However, it is arguably incomparable with Domingo’s rich baritone (another reason for excitement as this was Domingo’s first baritone role for RO), which seems to drip honey and cover every syllable with fluidity. His voice is perhaps not as strong as Tomlinson’s, but it has an entirely different effect on the audience.
Other notable performances came from Jonathan Summers’ Paolo and Marina Poplavskaya as Amelia. Summers was pure evil incarnate, spitting all over the stage – which made me wince initially and then seemed completely appropriate – and singing with brilliant poignancy and power. Poplavskaya by comparison was beautiful and gentle, as Amelia should be, while her voice was heart-wrenching and strong. I also very much enjoyed her clear pride at working with Domingo. Two wonderful performances. Unfortunately Joseph Calleja was rather overshadowed by the skill and brilliance of the other singers. As Adorno he acted the part admirably, and I truly did find his love for Amelia, and his choler as a man of action palpable. However, his voice was nothing special, simply skimming over the audience and filling the role, but nothing more.
Furthermore, Michael Yeargan’s set design appeared to have been lifted straight out of Monty Python’s Life of Brian – particularly when they began to paint words across the walls, extremely reminiscent of the famous grammar lesson scene. Also, while it was used rather well – none of the stage or set went to waste – I never got a sense of being in a new space; it always felt like one of two rooms, arranged differently, throughout. Likewise, the costumes, designed by Peter J Hall, seemed largely uninspired. Most notably, our leading man wore, what can only be described as a carpet, for far too long. Nothing flowed as it should have. Having said that, Amelia had some very beautiful costumes, which moved beautifully, but against the rest of the production, didn’t seem to work (except when she was alone, when the whole picture was superb.)
Thankfully, and as usual, both the Orchestra, conducted by musical director Antonio Pappano, and the Chorus of the Royal Opera House, under Renato Balsadonna, were truly splendid. It seems that they get better with each performance, particularly under Pappano. Although, arguably, Italian opera is not his forte, it is still splendid.
An altogether unbalanced performance of Elijah Moshinsky tired 1991 production, but containing some marvelous performances.
However, as I have said before, when it comes to BP Big Summer screens, it seems to matter very little what is on the screen. It is always an enjoyable experience. And free, so if you really aren’t in the mood, or the rain pours down too heavy, you don’t feel too much obligation to stay, which, ironically, makes me want to stay! I only wish they would do more than three a year. If the number of people in Trafalgar Square is any indication, opera is extremely popular, but just too expensive, when it comes to actually visiting the opera houses. However, they are getting better; Francesca Zambello’s Carmen (review below) has been filmed in 3D and will be shown in cinemas across the country in the Autumn, so look out for that.
Review of Zambello’s production of Carmen: http://operagurl.wordpress.com/2009/10/14/bizets-carmen-royal-opera-roh/
Simon Boccanegra, ROH 1991
William Shakespeare’s ‘Macbeth’ – Shakespeare’s Globe
19 Jun 2010 2 Comments
With a famously dark play like Macbeth, a play that some actors and directors won’t even perform because of “the curse”, it seems appropriate, necessary even, to completely throw yourself into that damned, bloodthirsty world. Lucy Bailey’s new production at The Globe is about as bloody and dark as it could be – a sign outside the door reads “This is a gruesome production of a brutal play” – and yet, it isn’t too much. In amongst the groundlings, writhing, bloody bodies desperately claw at the audience, screaming and moaning in pain, and onstage things are just as callous. The stage was hung with black curtains and populated by men in black outfits, before an audience whose heads popped up through slits in a huge black cloth – enabling the weird sisters and the damned souls to roam the audience, sliding between us and frightening everyone. Characters appeared from every direction and in the audience, once you had found where to stand, you really were pretty much stuck where you were, trapped in the middle of the action.
As the weird sisters (witches) Janet Fullerlove, Simone Kirby and Karen Anderson wore red and had sickly white painted faces. Between the three of them, they worked the entire stage, glaring with weird intensity at the audience and spitting their lines out, cursing everyone. They were brilliantly bizarre and, for lack of a better word, utterly witchy.
James Clyde’s Duncan was powerful and regal right up until the point of murder. He commanded the stage and spoke clearly. True, he didn’t bring anything new or astonishing to the part, but he played it with complete conviction.
Meanwhile James McArdle gave a spectacular performance as Malcolm, almost stealing the show from his more senior co-stars. He was funny and powerful and youthful all at the same time, displaying an incredible understanding of the part and showing us just how wonderful a role Malcolm is. This was especially poignant in his scene with Keith Dunphy’s Macduff, where the two came together and created a powerful display of what it is to be masculine. Despite the fact that Macduff is not named for quite some time, the moment Dunphy stepped onstage it was clear who he was playing. Pacing the boards with casual but strong difference, balancing the role of a ruthless man of action and a good hearted avenger perfectly.
In the role of Macbeth, Elliot Cowan just about managed to outdo his co-stars – which is necessary when playing this part. His voice was naturally quite low and soft, but in an almost warning way, rather than a soothing way. He growled and purred through his lines, his danger and fear haunting every word. Likewise, his physicality was wonderful. He strode the stage with a power he seemed almost afraid to hold. Furthermore, his scenes with Lady Macbeth, played by Laura Rogers, were fraught with palpable tension, their chemistry clear and evident. Alone Rogers was equally impressive, owning the part entirely, displaying first a cold, cutting understanding of the world of men she lived in, and then a bloodthirsty desire for power. This was made all the more poignant in contrast to her “I have given suck” speech”, which was spoken with intense, haunting calm.
By comparison Christian Bradley’s Banquo was the epitome of good and honest. His friendship with Macbeth was loyal and strong and his relationship with his son was heartwarming. He delivered his lines with power and understanding. In short, he was the ideal Banquo.
Finally special notice should also be made of Frank Scantori as the Porter. Delivering perfect comic relief he had the audience laughing and wincing in equal measure. Perfect entertainment.
In short, this is a practically flawless production that will quite rightly have you wincing in pain and disgust as often as you are amazed or impressed by the skill and overall inspiration of the production.
Macbeth, directed by Lucy Bailey for Shakespeare's Globe 2010
Oscar Wilde’s ‘Salome’ – Headlong Theatre and Curve Theatre, Leicester – Theatre Royal Brighton
18 Jun 2010 Leave a Comment
As Wilde goes, Salome is certainly not typical, and Jamie Lloyd’s new production pushes it further. Hailed as ‘experimental’ companies, Salome seems like perfect material for Headlong Theatre and Curve Theatre, Leicester, and it definitely yielded some interesting theatre – although not all good.
The stage was set, or rather stripped, by Soutra Gilmour, to create a powerfully raw atmosphere. Being able to see the lights, wires and all, the black back wall of the Theatre Royal Brighton, the hollowed out, curtainless wings, really brought the true, dark emotions to the forefront. However, the decision to have a two tiered raised stage on the actual stage did annoy the lines of sight. Furthermore, the costume designs (also the work of Gilmour) seemed unjustified. The cast were robed in torn up army uniforms, complete with guns and black boots – but there didn’t seem to be any reason for it. Why our seductive Salome had elected to wear a khaki one-in-all suit was a mystery, and Herod’s decision to wear a mesh tank top with his parachute trousers was even more confusing. From the action on stage we were to understand that inside Herod and his guests were enjoying a tacky disco in a gritty town, which only served to increase my confusion over their attire.
The cast was a mishmash of talent and extremism. As the Young Syrian, Narraboth, Sam Donovan was clean cut, but far from cutting. He seemed too whiny to be a man of action, and not enamoured or devastated enough to justify his suicide. Donovan spoke very well and made a dramatic opening, but his performance was not quite raw enough to warrant the kind of behaviour displayed by Narraboth. Zawe Ashton gave an interesting and somewhat daring performance as Salome. Playing the Princess as a nervy, fast-talking, party girl made her seduction of Narraboth very apt, and her I-want-it-now attitude towards Iokanaan extremely relatable. However, the other side of this character seemed to be one of casual indifference, which made her demands (after dancing) seem flippant and unlikely; It seemed unlikely that a party girl princess and serial seductress would care enough to demand the death of a prophet. Similarly, Con O’Neill’s Herod was so far removed from reality, that when Salome made her request, his anger and fear appeared to have come out of nowhere. As a man of no faith and even less sanity why would he care about the life of this prophet? Having said that, for what it was O’Neill gave a strong performance, committing entirely to the role he was playing and the way he was playing it. Without a doubt the strongest performance came from Jaye Griffiths as Herodias. She was the perfect mix of sultry seductiveness and painful desperation. Initially self-assured and fun loving, Griffiths slowly let Herodias’ neurosis unravel until she was begging her daughter not to dance and finally laughing manically as the demands were made. She even managed to outshine and out-act her ridiculous outfit (complete with denim shorts and a metal studded shoulder). A brilliant portrayal and updating of this most tragic queen. Less impressive was Iokanaan, played by Seun Shote. His voice was powerful when projected through the speakers from below the stage, but further than that it was a largely unremarkable performance. Being shackled and chained between two guards, almost forced to bend to Salome’s will gave him some credibility as he recoiled from her touch, but largely he played it by the book, uninspiringly.
The rest of the cast – Richard Cant as the Page of Herodias, Vyelle Croom as Naaman, Nitzan Sharron as the Cappadocian, Tom Byam Shaw as the Nazarene and Tim Steed as the Jew – gave no stand out performances, but worked very well as an ensemble. Their constant movement kept the stage alive and their writhing bodies created a strong sense of brutality.
Jamie Lloyd’s direction wasn’t quite as experimental as I had expected, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. The decision to have a light change and haunting music every time Iokanaan spoke from offstage was initially powerful and striking, but after three or four times became somewhat repetitive and monotonous. Other than that, the blocking was brilliant, always keeping the combination of people onstage interesting and visually stimulating. However, the amount of sex and alcohol reference made the whole production, with it’s dark smoky exterior, rather adolescent. It was like looking into the darkest recesses of a suicidal teen’s mind – albeit a very smart, quick witted, silver tongued teen, but a teen nonetheless.
Moody and atmospheric, this is a somewhat daring production and it is hard to imagine a Salome quite as raw and honest. I found it deeply inspiring, but unfortunately most of my inspiration stemmed from a desire to do things oh so differently. I’m glad I saw it, but once was quite enough.
Salome, Theatre Royal Brighton 2010
Mozart’s ‘Le Nozze di Figaro’ – Royal Opera – ROH
17 Jun 2010 Leave a Comment
in ROH Reviews
Where do I begin? Upon leaving the Royal Opera House after David McVicar’s 2006 production of Le Nozze di Figaro, I felt, as a reviewer, that there was one major flaw with this production: McVicar had left me with nothing to criticise. I tossed and turned, trying to sleep that night, haunted by the idea that this might be – dare I say it? – a perfect production, and that if that was the case I would actually have to say, in my review, that it was perfect. Having had almost two days to reflect I have decided that there are one, maybe two minor things (which didn’t even occur to me during the performance), that perhaps could have been better. But in the grand scheme of things I will be extremely surprised if I ever see a better production of Mozart’s masterpiece (said by many to be “the most perfect opera ever written.”)
All the designs, costume and set, were the work of the talented Tanya McCallin. She is also responsible for the sets for the Carmen, also currently playing at the Royal Opera House. It is evident that she favours large pieces of scenery, creating walls, and often with a very limited palate, which so far seems to work very well for everything she does. Not only was the household of the Count and Countess grand, but it also moved with beautiful fluidity, making every scene change a joy to watch. Furthermore, Paule Constable’s lighting design illuminated these sets magnificently. Mostly creating the effect of daylight, every time a window was thrown open the light that filled the stage was just breathtaking.
Upon this spectacular stage was an equally spectacular cast; returning to the role of Figaro after playing him during this production’s premiere was Uruguayan baritone Erwin Schrott. I cannot begin to imagine or dream of a more perfect Figaro. His voice filled the opera house with rich low tones and soaring high notes. Furthermore his physicality as an actor was superb; almost every moment he was onstage made me smile or laugh. He was just brilliant.
Playing opposite as his Susanna was Jette Parker Young Artist, Eri Nakamura. One of the greatest joys about being a regular at the Royal Opera House is being able to to see the JPYAs grow and evolve into these great roles, and for me, none is more enjoyable than Nakamura. From the Fifth Maid in Elektra to Musetta to Susanna, she never fails to impress me. Her voice is light and agile, but also carries weight and meaning. Like Schrott her physicality was superb, sweet and funny, her scenes with the Countess and Cherubino were especially brilliant, not to mention the Count.
As Bartolo and Marcellina, Robert Lloyd and Marie MacLaughlin were also wonderful. Ever entertaining and funny their voices were beautifully matched and their scenes were a joy to behold.
Replacing the originally advertised Christine Schäfer as Cherubino, was Lithuanian mezzo Jurgita Adamonyté. Although I initially felt that she was too feminine to play the young lover, Adamonyté very quickly turned into a rascal of a young man, and utterly proved herself in Cherubino’s aria “Voi che sapete”, when her voice floated over the audience, and her eyes were bright with joy. Even with the uncertain start, she very quickly won me over.
Mariusz Kwiecien’s Count Almaviva was something else entirely. Stern and sexy, he played the man of power and the seductive playboy with equal talent and relish, flashing smiles and terrifying frowns. I was utterly entranced and almost had a hard time understanding why Susanna wasn’t in love with him. His voice was deep and rich as it flowed over us all, and every time he sang with someone else he enhanced their voices as well. I particularly enjoyed his scenes with the Countess, sung by German soprano Annette Dasch. Together they were fabulous, fighting over and sharing the tension equally, and alone, Dasch was equally wonderful. From her dramatic entrance at the start of Act II, through her aria “Porgi amor” and beyond, she was full of a beautiful sorrow, just allowing the audience a glimpse of the strong woman behind her glittering eyes. Furthermore, her voice was spectacular, receiving applause almost every time she sang.
Finally, one small mention must be made of Amanda Forsythe’s Barbarina. Forsythe’s voice was beautiful and she completely brought this small part to life.
The Chorus of the Royal Opera House, directed by Renato Belsadonna, were on top form, filing in as Mozart intended, and warming the whole theatre with their voices and smiles alike. Meanwhile Sir Colin Davis was working his magic with the orchestra. I was only sad not to be able keep my eyes off the stage and give the orchestra some time as well, but they truly were wonderful, supporting and complimenting the singers throughout. Furthermore, I have never heard the overture (which happens to be one of my favourite pieces of music) sound quite so good.
I cannot find enough adjectives to praise this production. Needless to say McVicar is a master of his art. The only part of the direction which didn’t completely satisfy me was his decision to make every funny event a moment of passing subtlety. It may be a cheap shot, but I look forward to the Count’s reaction when he discovers Cherubino in Susanna and Figaro’s room, and with McVicar I didn’t get the almost-pantomime hilarity of the moment. On the other hand, since every other director out there seems to have that covered, perhaps it is nice to see someone deal with comedy a little differently.
Without a doubt the best Mozart I have ever seen, and am ever likely to see. An incredible evening and one which I hope they will revive again and again and again and again…
David McVicar's production of 'Le Nozze di Figaro', ROH 2006
Bizet’s ‘The Pearl Fishers’ – English National Opera – The London Coliseum
14 Jun 2010 Leave a Comment
in ENO Reviews
As I sat watching Penny Woolcock’s new production of The Pearl Fishers at ENO, I wondered if anyone had ever had as unique a night at the opera as my fellow audience members and I were enjoying. At 7.30pm, once we were all seated and the lights had gone down, John McMurray, the casting director of the English National Opera, appeared before the curtain with a brief announcement; Mr Alfie Boe, who had been cast as Nadir, had a serious chest infection and was unable to sing. His understudy, Mr Christopher Steele having the same infection couldn’t sing either, but was there to act the part of Nadir. He finished this ridiculous announcement, which received much laughter, by introducing us to our stand-in Nadir; (forgive the paraphrasing) “We were lucky enough to find Mr William Burden, who has been in rehearsal at Glyndebourne, and has some knowledge of the part, and will sing from the side of the stage. (Pause) However, he will sing in French.” The audience exploded in laughter and applause, and Bizet’s somewhat forgotten masterpiece began in an altogether unpredictable, unplanned and unintended way.
As the laughter subsided and the first few notes played out, a very different mood came across us all. Woolcock’s production begins with pearl divers swimming to the bottom of the sea and scouring the ocean floor for oysters. It’s beautiful and captivating and left me wishing that Bizet had written a longer overture. Likewise, the sets – all designed by Dick Bird – for Act I and the second half of Act III were just astonishing. Houses set on rickety looking wooden structures were decorated with colourful washing lines, hardworking people and playful children, all brightly dressed by costume designer Kevin Pollard, teetering above the reflective stage, which was the sea. The lighting was beautifully done as well, and the space was used incredibly well, despite being very restricted. The sets for Act II and the beginning of Act III left something to be desired. Act II saw Leila at the temple – a small shrine and a wire fence which Nadir had to climb over. On it’s own the set would have seemed flat, but after the depth of Act I, it was utterly two dimensional. Likewise Act III scene 1, which took place before the curtain in a tent shaped grey cloth, was flat and devoid of the life and colour enriching the rest of the production.
Hawaiian baritone Quinn Kelsey’s Zurga was by far the most impressive presence on the stage. His voice easily filled the Coliseum and he played the role perfectly. The character had my utmost respect as a leader, and my deepest sympathy as a lover throughout. Nadir, the creation of an interesting union between Christopher Steele and William Burden, seemed to work well, despite the difficult situation. Steele played him as a typical young man, vivacious, full of wanderlust, and completely infatuated with Leila. Meanwhile the French lines, sung by Burden, weren’t quite as distracting as I had anticipated. After the initial laughter when Nadir spoke/sang and Zurga turned a confused face to ask “What do you mean?” everyone seemed to get over the novelty and we simply got to enjoy Burden’s rich tones. Having a clear advantage from the side of the stage, his voice soared to the back of the Coliseum and melded beautifully with Kelsey’s Zurga and Leila, who was sung by Hanan Alattar. Alattar’s performance was the only one which I felt unsure about. Her voice was strong in volume, but stronger in vibrato. While this does suit the part, I missed the subtleties of most soprano voices. When the vibrato is so constant it becomes line after line of showboating, rather than performance. In terms of acting, Alattar did beautifully, floating like a priestess, and falling like a lover.
Lead by chorus master Martin Merry, the chorus of the English National Opera were strong and vibrant, but no where near their best (their best being in David Alden’s Peter Grimes last year). While I enjoyed the unity and force of their sound, I felt like reminding Merry that there is something to be said for those quieter moments as well. The orchestra on the other hand were full of subtle moments. Under the baton of the young Rory Macdonald they yielded wonderful things. Again, not the best I’ve ever heard them, but I also have no big complaints. Just very pretty really.
Penny Woolcock’s direction was everything the music predicted, and thus worked very well. Nothing groundbreaking, but when it was beautiful it was something quite wonderful to behold.
This new production is astonishing at best, and a little dull at worst. Full of bright moments, you just have to wait for them. But the main thing for me remains being able to hear someone sing in French at ENO; I can’t deny feeling a slight sense of triumph at the news, after all my wishing and hoping. As much as I enjoyed my evening, I’m not sure I would go back; one night fed my interest, but didn’t leave me with much.
Poster for Penny Woolcock's 'The Pearl Fishers' at ENO, 2010
BP Big Summer Screens – Bizet’s ‘Carmen’ – Live from ROH, to Trafalgar Square
11 Jun 2010 1 Comment
in ROH Reviews
Having attended BP Big Summer Screens in 2009 for Caurier and Leiser’s Il barbiere di Siviglia there was no doubt in my mind that I would be back – even though I had sat in Trafalgar Square last year while it poured with rain, my designer shopping bags growing soggier by the minute. However, this year me and my three enthusiastic gal pals were blessed with beautiful weather and fantastic atmosphere for Francesca Zambello’s Carmen.
For those who don’t already know, BP Summer Big Screens in association with the Royal Opera House has been running for about 20 years, and every Summer they offer aprox. two operatic productions and two ballet. The events are free and they draw people from far and wide (opera fans and music fans and theatre fans and fans alike), armed with picnic baskets and – yes – anoraks, to major city squares around the UK. Whether you are an opera fan or not, everyone seems to love them and the events always get wonderful responses. Furthermore, as someone who spends a lot of money on opera tickets and thus sits in opera houses judging very carefully whether she has got her money’s worth, it is relaxing to see something and just be able to enjoy it.
BP and ROH began this season of Big Screen events in unique fashion, with a nationwide sing-along of Escamillo’s Toreador song, which united the crowds wonderfully and, aside from anything else, was just good fun – even if the English translation was near-unbearable. The evening was presented by Deborah Bull at the Royal Opera House, and Gareth Malone at Trafalgar Square, who provided a lot of interesting information and kept the atmosphere wonderfully upbeat. We were also treated to works of the runner-ups and winner of ROH’s ‘40 second film version of Carmen’ competition (excuse the bad explanation – the real name of the competition escapes me) in the interval. While the runner-ups ranged from the weird to the surreal, the winner was a really wonderful little film which kept audiences smiling – for 40 seconds at least.
I have already reviewed this production of Carmen, so I won’t bore you by going through sets and costumes and direction all over again. You can read it here: http://operagurl.wordpress.com/2009/10/14/bizets-carmen-royal-opera-roh/
So, having covered the fun of the evening, let’s turn now to the singers. With a fresh new cast every season I should imagine that it will be a whole before anyone tires of this Carmen. Having said that, the cast I saw in October – which included Elīna Garanča, Roberto Alagna, Ildebrando D’Arcangelo and Eri Nakamura – was almost unsurpassably brilliantly. Taking on the role of Carmen was English mezzo-soprano Christine Rice. While she had all the energy and bravado needed for Carmen, she simply didn’t look like the woman Garanča had offered in October. Having said that, Rice’s voice was superb and in the second half I even managed to stop comparing her to Garanča and see what a wonderful Carmen she was in her own right. Strong and fiery and beautiful in a weirdly alluring way. I think it may be a case of Garanča having played the ultimate Carmen and thus, for me, no one else being able to outdo her, but speaking objectively, Rice gave the audience everything they needed from a leading lady.
In October I also believed I had seen the ultimate Don Jose in Roberto Alagna, but Bryan Hymel proved himself just as astute and brilliant as his predecessor. Throughout Carmen, Don Jose seems like such a weak person; true, he has some beautiful music, but ultimately he always appeared to me as something quite pathetic. However, this always changes in the final act, when he finds the strength to actually kill his seductive lover. That final scene is the true measure of any Don Jose, and Hymel certainly proved himself there. I couldn’t take my eyes off the screen, so powerful was his performance. This was clearly a man torn apart by his desires and his duty – absolutely astounding. I wouldn’t dare to say who was better, Alagna or Hymel, but both made my heart pound. Although it is hard to judge over the sound system at Trafalgar Square, I think it would be fair to say that Hymel gave an extraordinary performance and his voice was truly astounding.
Aris Agiris gave Escamillo all he required, but no more. His was the only performance to which I felt largely indifferent. He filled the role, but seemed little more than a prop to keep the story going. This isn’t to say his voice and his acting weren’t good – they just weren’t groundbreaking either. Same goes for Paula Murrihy’s Mercédés and Elena Xanthoudakis’ Frasquita – the only difference being that their performance interested me more due to their duet (Mëlons! Coupons!) being my favourite of the opera. They both sang clearly and beautifully, but gave nothing special to the parts compared to Louise Innes and Eri Nakamura back in October.
Under the baton of Constantinos Carydis the Orchestra of the Royal Opera House yielded very few subtleties, but made every moment of power as dramatic as possible. Not the perfect performance, but perfectly enjoyable. As usual the Chorus of the Royal Opera House was on top, powerful form under Renato Balsadonna.
In my humble and largely inexperienced opinion, these events rely very little on the opera being shown. Provided whatever is onscreen has some charm for you – whether it be the opera, the director, the singers, the conductor, the production – you can always enjoy the atmosphere. Without a doubt one of the best nights I have ever spent out in London.
NOTICE: BP Summer Big Screens presents Simon Boccanegra live from the Royal Opera House on Tuesday July 13th at 7.30pm, featuring Plácido Domingo in his first ever baritone role for the Royal Opera.
Francesca Zambello's 2006 production of Carmen at ROH
