If there's one thing all the reviewers agreed on, it's that Calixto Bieito's new production of Platée is super-popular with Stuttgart operagoers.
Bieito has set Rameau's baroque comedy gem in a Studio 54 style temple of 70s hedonism, with the titular nymph (played by a man) an oddly Thatcheresque figure in a blue wrap dress.
It looks from the photos (more below) as if his trademark bare-all approach has given way to family-friendly oversized prosthetics - at least this time.
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Chamber Orchestra of Europe/Thomas Ades/Toby Spence - Usher Hall, Edinburgh, 14 August 2007
Edinburgh International Festival
Tonight's frenchy programme covered 300 years of music from fabuleux to fromage, though in the event it became hard to tell which was which.
The venerable Rameau was the starter. I've always found it hard to muster up the same enthusiasm for Rameau as I have for Couperin, and I couldn't help wondering if Thomas Ades and the COE felt the same. They exhumed the corpse of the overture from Les Indes Galantes but failed to breathe any life into it. It was as English as steamed pudding and just as soggy.
Ades's own Three Studies from Couperin surprisingly failed to pick up the pace, lacking the sparkle and drive of the UK premiere (Ades with the COE again) just four months ago. The scoring is intriguing, but was obscured by an odd dynamic balance, perhaps intentional. Whatever, it failed to dazzle in the way his other work has.
The shift into top gear finally came with Berlioz's Les Nuits d'Été and Toby Spence. Spence began tentatively and selected a different tempo from the orchestra for the opening Villanelle. This was something Ades failed to control, and a problem that re-occured in the final L'Île Inconnue.
However in the second song, Le Spectre de la Rose, both singer and orchestra finally blossomed. Toby Spence has all the basics and more - a fine ringing tone, secure notes, immaculate breath control and terrific projection. When he put it all together, the results were impressive. Although nerves crept in a couple more times, most noticeably at the start of Sur les Lagunes, there were more moments of pure gorgeousness. L'Absence in particular, pickily steered by Ades, was perfect in every way.
The animation that the orchestra gathered for the Berlioz returned after the interval for Ravel's Le Tombeau de Couperin. Ravel's arrangement is characteristically full of colour and detail, every inch of his canvas filled. Although this is at heart a memorial piece, it's also full of grace, wit and optimism, and the COE brought it exuberantly to life.
The closer, Bizet's Symphony in C, continued in this vein. Written when he was just 17, it has all the naive optimism of youth. This adorable froth is derivative, but Bizet pinched so many different ideas (mostly from Gounod) it's never boring. The COE made it crisp and light as a mille-feuille, but never over-sugared, a surprisingly satisfying ending to the evening. It came as a surprise that Ades could pull more out of Bizet (Bizet!) than his own work but sometimes these things just happen, who knows why.
(No photos tonight - I was personally and firmly informed that this means me:)
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Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment 21st Birthday Concert - Royal Festival Hall, 30 June 2007
Purcell Suite from Welcome to all the Pleasures & Now does the glorious day appear
Rameau Suite from Dardanus
Mozart Concerto in E flat for 2 pianos, K.365
Haydn Symphony No.63
Weber Der Freischütz - Act II Finale (The Wolf's Glen)
Handel Music for the Royal Fireworks
It's not often you get four top conductors in one night, but the 21st birthday concert of the OAE merited something special. The fab four in question were Mark Elder, Vladimir Jurowski, Sir Charles Mackerras and Sir Roger Norrington, and their magical mystery tour was broad reaching enough to show many facets of the orchestra's capabilities.
But even the fabbest of fours has a Ringo, and tonight it was Sir Roger Norrington, who took the first section. Although the orchestra and particularly the chorus bounced through the Purcell, directed by Richard Egarr from the harpsichord, well enough, it was marred by some below-par solo singing. Only counter tenor Robin Blaze really did it any credit. John Mark Ainsley and David Wilson-Johnson were barely audible, and Ainsley simply didn't hit all the notes right. The Rameau suite which followed was sluggish and uninspired, Rameau's sparkle and wit completely buried.
In between the Purcell and Rameau a video birthday message from Sir Simon Rattle was aired on a big screen above the stage. Unfortunately it was so brightly lit as to be nearly invisible (unlike the left hand side of the auditorium, which remained in total darkness all night despite audience complaints). Further videos later on were similarly whited out. Surely the RFH has had long enough to sort out its technical problems by now?
After Norrington had taken his leave, Mozart's Here's One I Knocked Off In My Sleep was directed from the keyboards (tonight, fortepianos) by Richard Egarr and Robert Levin. This was another problematical item, and not only because of the less than inspired writing (with all the wonderful Mozart there is to choose from, why pick something this dull?). The fortepianos duly demonstrated why they were dinosaured out by the pianoforte, their close, muffled sound completely inadequate to fill an auditorium this size. Egarr and Levin tossed their hair and flung their arms, smirking and winking across the keyboards as if there was no audience apart from each other, to the expense of a very noticeable error from Levin. Their flippancy underlined their (understandable) lack of regard for the material - so again, why not choose something else to play? There's a place for self indulgence, but it's not in front of a paying audience. No wonder Sir Roger Norrington, sitting a few rows in front of me for this one, carried on talking to his companion over the opening bars, something I now plan to do next time I catch one of his concerts.
I really thought the whole evening was going to be a waste of time, and then Vladimir Jurowski bounded onto the stage like a frisky puppy and dug straight into the Haydn. The atmosphere and the orchestra were totally and immediately transformed. Though really this is far from Haydn's finest moment, Jurowski invested it with so much colour, vigour and drama that for a moment it seemed like the greatest thing ever written. I hereby pledge my soul to his LPO - he is simply the most exciting conductor in London right now.
Jurowski was a hard act to follow, but Mark Elder nearly topped him with a splendidly performed extract from Der Freischütz. Singers Clive Bayley and Philip Langridge gave an ingenious semi-staged performance, where the lights were dimmed and the orchestra became a forest for them to pick their way through. Weber's brilliant and imaginative orchestration came thrillingly to life, all its bizarre corners and lush drama stunningly displayed. A performance so inspiring it made me want to rush out and listen to the whole opera from start to finish.
It was left to Sir Charles Mackerras to end the evening with Handel's Music for the Royal Fireworks. Delivered in appropriately celebratory style, its bang-crash-wallop wound things up on a high note.
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