Tosca - English National Opera, 18 May 2010 (first night)
I haven’t always been Ed Gardner’s biggest fan in the past, and to be perfectly honest, I'm not Puccini's either, but his breathtakingly superb conducting has got to be the main reason to catch this new Tosca. 'Revelatory' is a word that's often tossed lazily around, but here it's perfectly justified. This is a Tosca I could listen to over and over again.
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Turandot - English National Opera, 16 November 2009
Even the uniformly negative reviews didn't prepare me for the sheer amateurishness of Rupert Goold's new production.
Sure, the glossy Chinese gastropalace and its population of post-modern archetypes look good in pics. That's because the designs are imaginative and meticulously executed. Even if we’ve seen some of the ideas before – the last act’s tiled kitchen from Goold’s Macbeth, the animal masks and typeface projections from his Enron, to name a couple – they’re still original enough to constitute an aesthetic rather than a shortage of ideas.
The problem is they're nothing more than an artsy backdrop to some decidedly old-fashioned stand and deliver action. Goold is used to working with the likes of Michael Gambon and Patrick Stewart. Here he’s saddled with a genre of performers for whom acting skills are a helpful bonus, not than a job requirement. That’s not to say that this cast are bad actors, just that they’re typical singers, and they need more direction than they’ve received here to bring out their best. The principals are left pretty much to their own devices. Amanda Echalaz as Liù reprised the memorable drug-addled victim of her OHP Un ballo in maschera. Kirsten Blanck (Turandot) has clearly seen a few Siouxsie videos. Gwyn Hughes Jones (Calaf) just wanders round in his cheap mac like a lost tourist.
The individually-costumed and fussily-blocked chorus and the superfluous dancers are more of a distraction than a compensation. Perhaps he’s trying to say that even people who consider themselves individuals can become complicit in a murderous regime. Whatever. That’s a side dish – it’s not what Turandot is about. When it comes to telling the real story, what Goold serves up is a concert performance in cool frocks.
The only character Goold shows much interest in is one he's grafted on. 'The Writer' - presumably a reflection of Puccini - is an irritating silent witness and occasional participant. He scribbles away in a book until bloodily despatched at Turandot's command towards the end - not uncoincidentally, at the point Puccini stopped writing. His book is picked up by a pig-headed dancer who writes the last few pages. You couldn't offer a clearer opinion of Alfano’s completion than that, but did we really have to suffer the previous hour and half to get there? To most operagoers, whether they like Turandot or not, Puccini's failure to complete it is simply a footnote, but Goold's staging elevates it to the raison d'etre of the entire production.
Relief came only from a handful of sterling vocal performances in the central roles, chief among them Amanda Echalaz’s thrilling Liù. Gwyn Hughes Jones offered a blank slate of a Calaf, unconvincing in his passion for the ice princess. At least he sang with some ardour and assurance. A more detailed portrayal would make him truly terrific in this part. Kirsten Blanck’s Turandot was heroically powerful, served up in a stern Marlene Dietrich accent with gale force top notes. Benedict Nelson’s
Edward Gardner hammered the score into submission as if he was repaying a grudge. It was a loud and dirty fight.
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Un ballo in maschera - Opera Holland Park, 21 July 2009
Amanda Echalaz inspects Rafael Rojas's teh conductor's imaginary weapon
I've occasionally spotted some funny things in the undergrowth in Holland Park. But there's no grassy knoll, and nothing that could pass for a book suppository. Nevertheless, JFK's assassination is the reference point for Martin Lloyd Evans's contemporary update of Un ballo in maschera.
It should satisfy those who complained that the recent Royal Opera House production skimmed over the story's political aspect in favour of the lurve triangle. In fact the romance is so underplayed as to be almost non-existent.
Instead the 'herb' Amelia seeks via the fortune-teller Ulrica (here the victim/guest in a savagely parodied TV reality show) is the sort that carries a custodial sentence. The gallows scene is transplanted to an urban wasteland where a shadowy hoodie supplies Amelia with her fix - brazenly injected centre stage. Riccardo finds her slumped in post-score coma. The sordid secret she wants to hide is not being caught alone with another man (no longer a faux pas of course - in fact practically compulsory in modern political circles) - but her desperate addiction.
The staging was unclear in places - why were the conspirators taking pictures of her, did Renato agree to assassinate Riccardo only because he feared a spot of Drugs Shame blackmail, and what was the point of the Bugs Bunny cartoon? And the hesitant movement suggested a couple more rehearsals wouldn't have gone amiss. But although I had a little sympathy with the lone booer at the end of the first scene, by the end it had all knitted together into far more than gratuitous sensationalism - and the warm applause and interval chat suggested that even the more conservative operagoers were convinced.
The bold twist threw Amelia right to the centre of the story throughout. And Amanda Echalaz was absolutely stunning. Her lean, thrilling soprano is nimble but powerful, and as accurate as a laser-guided missile. It may not be the most beautiful voice, but when you hear it in this music, you realise it's exactly what Verdi wanted. The desperation of a woman on the edge of breakdown was palpable. Just brilliant.
The scheduled tenor, Rafael Rojas, wasn't well, so he mimed while his eleventh hour replacement David Rendall sang with creditable power from the pit. What could have turned out a disaster was, save for an inevitable lack of ensemble precision, a barely-noticeable drawback.
Olafur Sigurdarson sang Renato strongly and fluidly, only succumbing to a bit of blustering at the end. Gail Pearson's voice is a bit on the heavy side for Oscar (here a female office aide), but it projects well, and with her brisk secretarial manner the character was less cloying than usual. Carole Wilson was a terrific Ulrica, properly sung not wobbled through. And Benedict Nelson made an arresting (almost scene-stealing) appearance as Silvano, an embittered wheelchair-bound vet, strongly and expressively sung.
A bit more power from the chorus and tightness from the orchestra wouldn't have gone amiss, but with OHP's limited rehearsal time, it's a risk you take with the first show in any run.
Continue reading "Opera Holland Park's Un ballo in maschera" »
David McVicar brings his chipolata-stuffed Rigoletto back to the Royal Opera House on 10 February. Star-power is limited to veterans Leo Nucci and Paolo Gavanelli sharing the title role but this is Verdi at his most unbreakable so that's all it needs. We wait eagerly to see what Francesco Meli and Ekaterina Siurina can make of the Duke and Gilda. More Ekaterina in recital at St John's Smith Square on 20 February.
George Benjamin's highly-praised shortie Into the Little Hill gets its long-awaited London premiere in the Linbury Studio on 14 February. It's coupled with Birtwistle's Down by the Greenwood Side. Still no casting details on the ROH site, whatever that means.
But the major event of the month at Covent Garden is the premiere of Tim Albery's new production of Der fliegende Holländer on 23 February with Bryn 'teh Chin' Terfel as the Dutchman.
At ENO, Jonathan Miller's new La Bohème opens tomorrow. And you are duly warned that John Adams's irredeemably dim-witted Dr Atomic, which I saw in New York last autumn (well the first half anyway: I walked out at the interval) arrives on 25 February. On the plus side, it has a far better production and cast than the material deserves.
Opera Holland Park slip through the park gates and catch the 391 to Richmond Theatre where from 24 February the simple country folk can enjoy their brilliant Tosca from last summer. There are two casts - Amanda Echalaz, the best Tosca in town, sings on 25 and 27 February and 1 March.
The Barbican presents Handel's oratorio Samson on 12 February, for which The Sixteen are joined by a terrific line of of soloists including Mark Padmore, Gillian Keith, Catherine Wyn-Rogers and Roderick Williams. And on 22 and 23 February, the LSO record Berlioz's Te Deum with Sir Colin Davis
Wigmore Hall's bargain-priced 4 o'clock Sunday song recitals continue with two artists on the brink of major careers - Jacques Imbrailo on 15 February and Lucy Crowe on 22 February.
On 21 February Gustavo Dudamel makes an eagerly-awaited return to London, where he conducts the Philharmonia in Mahler's 5th at the Royal Festival Hall.
And at the same place tomorrow night, 4 February Matthias Goerne joins Neeme Jarvi and the LPO for Mahler's Kindertotenlieder coupled with a purist-agitating rarity - Mahler's arrangement of Beethoven's 9th. There's a free talk at 6.15 for anyone who's interested in the background to this fascinating molestation. The photo below shows Mahler conducting Beethoven's 9th in Strasbourg in 1905.
Tosca - Opera Holland Park, 1 July 2008
Some commentators think Tosca shouldn't be mucked around with because its historical setting is so specific. June 17 1800, the aftermath of Napoleon's victory at the battle of Marengo, is a date that Puccini took great care in researching and reproducing for the stage, right down to getting the background Te Deum note-perfect.
But Stephen Barlow’s ingenious Opera Holland Park Tosca whips off the tired old pantaloons and updates the background turmoil to Rome in 1968, a year marked by violent student demonstrations and extremist clashes. And a few little quibbles aside, it works. That's because, despite all Puccini's attention to detail, in the opera he ended up writing the history is the wallpaper, not the drama. It's all about the personal relationships, and if you can ignore the odd reference to Napoleon, the real signficance of the context is in the more general sense of social turbulence.
The historical proximity clarifies the social distinctions, even if it's not quite apparent whether Scarpia is a police chief, politician, mafioso or all three. But he's suavely attractive in his immaculate suit, an unusually appropriate catch for the glamorous Callas-like Tosca. So her rejection of him only emphasises the depth of her love for the scruffy bohemian Cavaradossi.
It's set entirely outside in a piazza. This incorporates the unavoidable backdrop of Holland House's garden wall into church and cafe exteriors plastered with Scarpia's electioneering posters and Tosca's concert flyers. Act I's church interior scene is played outside its door, Scarpia's Act II room becomes the neighbouring cafe, and the Castello Sant'Angelo of Act III is the the piazza itself.
The ancient Fiat on stage throughout plays a crucial part in the final scene - Cavaradossi is pushed into it to be shot, Godfather-style, and Tosca leaps on to its roof to immolate herself in place of the traditional leap from the battlements. Details are well thought out, with a procession of locals adding colour to the bare set, and a picture perfect trattoria. A couple of props fell off the wall on this first night, but that sort of thing can happen anywhere.
Act I:
Act II:
End of Act III:
Poster detail:
Amanda Echalaz was a stunning Tosca, with a big, creamy sound and plenty of stamina. She was far more effective in the role than the unsubtle Micaela Carosi in Covent Garden's recent production. (Amanda Echalaz and Jonas Kaufmann - now that would be a team.....).
Seán Ruane can certainly act, but his workmanlike tenor couldn't last the course, and his Cavaradossi was rather monochromatic and dare I say it, English (even though I'm guessing from the name he's Irish). Nicholas Garrett's Scarpia was so menacingly persuasive that it was easy to overlook the fact that his bantamweight baritone is a complete miscast. Other than his voice getting lost now and again, there were few drawbacks. And when Scarpia is several degrees hawter than Cavaradossi, Tosca's choices are cast in a completely different light. The other parts were very solidly cast too - I particularly liked Simon Wilding's Angelotti and John Lofthouse's meddlesome Sacristan. A sturdy, unshowy reading from Phillip Thomas in the pit completed the musical side most effectively.
Scarpia Nicholas Garrett:
Tosca Amanda Echalaz, Cavaradossi Seán Ruane
Conductor Philip Thomas, Tosca Amanda Echalaz
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