Intermezzo

Opera Holland Park's Un ballo in maschera

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.

Un ballo in maschera at the Royal Opera House

Un ballo in maschera - Royal Opera House, 26 June 2009 (first night)

Although there's not much actively wrong with this show, very little of it really hit the nail either. It made for an unusually yawny evening by Covent Garden standards. I even toyed with the idea of walking out after the first act. Then I remembered how much I'd paid for the ticket.

Most of the problem is Mario Martone's production itself, starting with Sergio Tramonti's sets. They look like entries in a theatrical design contest. Attractive enough, but it's as if each was designed by a different person. The story doesn't have chance to get going and flow smoothly.

And although we're supposed to be in civil-war era Boston, the sense of time and place isn't clearly communicated. A room in Riccardo's house is bare, and as literally interpreted as the olde historical costumery. But it's followed by stacked scaffolding representing Ulrica's house which could have come straight out of a dodgy continental Ring cycle (not helped by Elena Manistina's timid Ulrica) . And why is the gallows scene set in what looks like a bombed-out church? Where are we supposed to be? If Martone's making a statement, it's not in a language I understand.

The direction doesn't offer many clues either. It looks as if all of the cast are just doing their own thing. Ramón Vargas comes out of it best. Riccardo is a great role for him. It capitalises his strengths - that firm, ringing tone, his innate likeability - but his weak point, dramatic rigidity, comes across here as elevated nobility. Some of his top notes were a bit thin, but otherwise he had a great night.

The audience favourite though was Anna Christy's puckish Oscar. After a nervous start, she ripped through the coloratura with ease, and impressively trod the line between irritating the rest of the cast and irritating the audience.

Angela Marambio's Amelia was more problematic. She had the ideas, but not the execution. Her phrasing was intelligent and her colouring appropriate, but they couldn't hide some unpleasantly screechy noises and a vibrato bordering on wobble. Perhaps she'll improve as the run continues, but I wouldn't count on it.

Changhan Lim in the small role of the sailor Silvano was surprisingly more impressive - strong, firm singing and a confident stage presence.

Good job I didn't leave early - the best bit of this production is the final scene. The mirrored back wall is raised and angled to reflect a second pit upstage, where the 'offstage' band play for the ball. It's almost too ingenious and fascinating - I barely noticed Renato stabbing Riccardo to death. Time to applaud the scenery?

 

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