Intermezzo

Le Grand Macabre - the body of evidence

Le Grand Macabre - English National Opera, 17 September 2009

The Royal Opera House spend tens of thousands on top singers like Jonas Kaufmann and Ferruccio Furlanetto. English National Opera put their money where you can see it in the form of Claudia the 40ft woman.

The astonishingly life like fibreglass construction revolves, disgorges the cast via various orifices, ages to a skeletal remnant in front of our eyes (clever projections) and in a final coup de théâtre, parts her vast buttocks to reveal a mobile disco packed with dancing squaddies. Spectacular costuming includes beyond-naked flayed muscle suits for serial shaggers Amando and Amanda and an all-over pink fur coat for Venus the love goddess. Jaw-dropping is an inadequate term. I came dangerously close to applauding the scenery. And let's face it, you just know you're in for something special when the programme credits include inflatable (intestines) and vagina scultpure [sic].

Not quite what Ligeti had in mind for Le Grand Macabre. But the non-story of Grim Reaper Nekrotzar's ultimately impotent threat to destroy all of boozing, fornicating, double-dealing humanity is served well in the new La Fura dels Baus production. The collapse of the fantasy Belgium of Bruegelland is mirrored in the decay and disintegration of Claudia's body. Visual references to Flemish art abound - Bosch's monsters, Brueghel's crowds, Magritte's dreamy skies - and of course the Rubenesque flesh-mountain centre stage. 

But for all the fabulously inventive and brilliantly executed visuals, it still seems like a long two hours. I can't blame the performers - all were excellent and totally committed. Susan Bickley as the ageing nymphomaniac Mescalina dominated her scenes as she did her hapless husband Astradomors (Frode Olsen, more memorable I am afraid for his corset and waders than anything else). Susanna Andersson handled the dazzling vocal and physical gymnastics of both Venus and Gepopo with indecent ease - the performance of the night.

And it wasn't the orchestra's fault either. They negotiated everything brilliantly for Baldur Brönnimann, from the opening car-horn fanfare to the closing Strauss-like passacaglia .

I fear the problem lies in the opera itself. It has its moments - the two mentioned above for starters. But it's not consistently dramatic or absorbing, or even funny, and some of the wacky percussion effects which might have seemed novel and exciting on its debut 30 years ago are looking a little dated now. I'm a great Ligeti fan, but this is not his best or even his most original writing, by far.

It's telling that a bout of hysterically foul-mouthed buttock-projected name-calling by the rival Black Minister and White Minister (Simon Butteriss and Daniel Norman) threatens to upstage everything else. (Top insult? "Northerner" got the most laughs, closely followed by "organist". "C0cksucker" didn't get a look-in.....).

When the best thing about an opera is not part of the original libretto - and spoken to boot - you have to wonder if it's past its sell-by date.

*******  more photos on next page  ********

Angela Hewitt's Bach and Barenboim's mighty Wiener

Angela Hewitt - Cadogan Hall, 3 September 2007
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Prom 66: Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra/Barenboim - Royal Albert Hall, 3 September 2007
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Prom 68: Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra/Barenboim - Royal Albert Hall, 4 September 2007

The refinement of Angela Hewitt's playing was matched by her frock choice for this lunchtime recital, a slinky teal jersey sleeveless gown and pants paired with teetering stilettos in matching satin (a risky choice for an hour at the piano?). But as it turned out she pedalled minimally, allowing the bright, pinging tone of her Fazioli piano to illuminate her midday programme, which sandwiched a couple of Scarlatti sonatas between two Bach Partitas.

She characterised each dance in the opening Partita no 1 with a clarity and delicacy that flowed through the whole programme. A little hesitancy and some uncharacteristic fluffs in this opener weren't repeated in the closing Bach Partita no 4, each phrase shaped with complete focus and attention. 

Although Domenico Scarlatti was a contemporary of Bach, the two sonatas performed, K9 and K29, sound as if they come from another century, even another planet. Their sparky playfulness and invention provided just the right amount of contrast with the Bach.

Unfortunately, the BBC radio recording destroys the delicacy and intimacy of Hewitt's performance with a cavernous quality that wasn't at all apparent at the recital. But if you're curious about what a piano might sound like at the bottom of a well, it's worth a couple of minutes attention.

Given the tube strike which started a couple of hours earlier, it was surprising to see a full house for Barenboim and the Vienna Philharmonic in the evening, but it was worth any amount of difficulty to see a performance of this calibre.

They opened with Schubert's light and Mozartean fifth Symphony, composed when he was just 19. Finessing that tricky blend of assurance and freshness, the Vienna Phil gave the most charming and delightful performance.

Having no doubt drilled these consummate musicians to perfection in rehearsal, Barenboim simply waved his arms in the air now and again as if he was waiting for his deodorant to dry.

The main course of the evening was Bruckner's Symphony no 4, which according to the programme was performed in the original 1874 version. I didn't notice any differences from the more usually played 1880 version so I'm a bit baffled by this.

Anyway, who cares, it was a marvel from start to finish. Barenboim's conception had the air of confidence - no muddle and no theatrics. From the moment the horns reached out over the rippling strings in the opening bars through to the blazing finale there was not a second's drop in concentration. The burnished sweep of the string section was the foundation for some immaculate and inspired playing from the wind and brass as they shaped the long melodic phrases.

It really is impossible to pick out any one of the finely-crafted moments or any musician for special praise. Sometimes a great performance seems to be constructed in front of you from the base up - this one felt as if it had been born perfect, fully-formed, and simply unveiled to us slowly, second by second.

The tube strike finally managed to get its claws into the Proms with the Vienna Phil's second and final Prom the next day. There were great toothless gaps in the stalls seats, and even the arena could have squeezed a few more standing customers in.

It would have been unreasonable to expect anything of the intensity of the previous day's Bruckner, and indeed this was a much more relaxed affair.

If the previous night had focused on architecture and construction, this one was about painting. The huge textural differences between each of its four sections were what really leapt out from a surprisingly abrasive take on Bartók's Music for Strings, Percussion and Celesta. Ligeti's brief Atmosphères was similarly rough-hewn, its curious shapes grinding up against each other.

The other two pieces, Kodály's Dances from Galánta and Enescu's Romanian Rhapsody No. 1 were delivered immaculately, and with tremendous verve. But despite their common Central European ancestry, their dancing rhythms seemed to belong on a different programme from the Bartók and Ligeti. Then again, perhaps that was the point.

The almost inevitable thundering ovation drew a couple of lively Strauss encores - the Vienna Phil as comfortable with these as with everything else they'd played.

Before the concert I slipped in to Proms head Nicholas Kenyon's audience Q&A session. This drew mostly the predictable Why can't we have more/less [insert name here] questions. However Kenyon did reveal that the Proms cost £8.5m, of which only £3.5m was covered by ticket receipts, the BBC footing the rest. For how long I wonder?

Haitink hits the yawn button; Aimard hits the spot

Prom 53: Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra/Haitink
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Prom 54: Mahler Chamber Orchestra/Aimard - Royal Albert Hall, 24 August 2007

The programme rightly notes that Bruckner's 8th Symphony contains "moments of luminous splendour - not least the ending - they tend to stand out amid darkness, mystery and grim reminders of mortality". And so it was with this performance. Flashes of colour illuminated great yawning swathes of beige.

Although there were moments of pure inspiration, it was mostly hard work, a real effort to listen to. At times I wondered if the orchestra was simply tired - I understand they had a very tight schedule getting to London. That luxurious melted chocolate sound of theirs certainly seemed to lack a little of its usual sheen, though technically they were as ever spot-on, with some outstanding displays of individual virtuosity. The last movement was especially pallid, though the big finale did grab the attention.

Perhaps I was expecting too much. This concert came hot on the heels of two really outstanding performances earlier in the week. It would have been hard for anyone to match the passion of Dudamel's Venezuelans, or the elegiac intimacy of Abbado's Mahler. But the chilly efficiency of Haitink's interpretation left little room for any kind of feeling. What a difference from the Concertgebouw's last London visit, when under the baton of Mariss Jansons at the Barbican it was not difficult to think them the greatest orchestra in the world.

In contrast, Pierre-Laurent Aimard's sparsely attended late night concert with the superb Mahler Chamber Orchestra was a delight from start to finish.

Conducting Haydn's Symphony No. 102 batonless, with graceful air-piano movements, he moulded great sweeping legato phrases with a romantic gloss and a dynamic sense of propulsion.

Despite vibrato-less strings, it was fundamentally an unusually forward-looking interpretation. It sounded almost Beethovien, undoubtedly Aimard's intention judging from his take on the Beethoven concerto which came later.

Aimard's piano programmes often place Ligeti alongside the classical and romantic masters, a conjunction which works remarkably well, illuminating both. Tonight the piano was moved centre stage for Aimard to perform a solo selection of Ligeti Etudes, some of which Ligeti wrote specifically for Aimard, while the orchestra sat around him in horseshoe formation and listened attentively.

The neatly structured sequence traced a path through the shimmering multilayers of Entrelacs, to the jerky rhythms of Fém, Der Zauberlehrling's impossibly rapid, trapped trills, and the rambling fifths of Cordes vides, ending with the fearsome chromatic Escher staircase of L'escalier du Diable. The audience remained silent, transfixed during the lengthily-sustained final note. As one day-ticketer said with dropped jaw as the applause began, f*** me. Aimard playing Ligeti can have that effect. His precise and measured articulation of dazzlingly fast passages and his keen sense of the multi-rhythmic lines can make it sound as if several pianos are playing at once.

For the final work, Beethoven's second Piano Concerto, Aimard's piano was moved around so that he remained in the centre of the orchestra, but with his back to the audience, and a kind of clear shield was attached to the piano to reflect the sound better. You can see it in the photo below - it's the dark stripe behind the scores.

Jumping up for some more air-piano work with his expressive hands when he could, conducting with his eyes alone when the requirements of the score tied him to the piano, he gave an exuberant reading of this early concerto.

Alternately drawing out its satisfyingly tidy Haydnesque aspects and splashing joyfully through the virtuoso solos, his elegant fluency and sheer brilliance were a delight. The Mahler Chamber Orchestra matched him every step of the way in technical flawlessness and sheer enthusiasm. For me this was the best 30 minutes of this year's Proms.

Mahler Chamber Orchestra as viewed from the arena:

Both concerts are available for the next week here - bear in mind BBC recording techniques change the original sound balance.