Profile reviews
1Tenor Dean Power as Belmonte, tenor Andrew Gavin as Pedrillo, bass James Platt as Osmin and soprano Sarah Power as Blonde are each wonderful, with Platt's bass singing sounding truly impressive.
Past Production Reviews
11Luxury casting abounds as Thomas Allen returns as the harassed Music Master, Nikolay Borchev impresses as a priapic Harlequin and Karen Cargill's Exocet mezzo brings her brilliantly sung Dryad to the fore. Another mezzo, Ruxandra Donose, is dynamic as the hapless Composer. The high-lying passages may challenge her (like so many of Strauss's female roles it was intended for a soprano) but she sings her concentrated set pieces with idiomatic gusto and acts with practised ease as the proud creative artist who's beset by (understandable) mood swings. Jane Archibald has performed the flirtatious coloratura clown Zerbinetta far and wide, and her assurance in the character's big solo scena is now breathtaking. Show-stopping, jaw-dropping, the casual precision of Archibald's stratospheric brilliance has to be heard to be believed. All of these seemingly disparate parts are wrought into a seamless whole by the conducting of Lothar Koenigs in a distinguished Royal Opera debut. How sensitively he gauges the balance of Strauss's orchestrations! They're unusually light in this opera, but he supports the voices subtly: airy for Zerbinetta, full-blooded under Mattila's dramatic soprano and Smith's Heldentenor in the expansive, neo-Wagnerian finale. Five-star shows are hard to define - they're not necessarily about perfection - but you know when you've seen one. This is a shoo-in.
Kasper Holten has evidently made changes to the production since its first run, but the basic premise remains the same. Holten seems fascinated by the idea of memory, and the two parts of the opera (the first five scenes up to and including the duel, and the final two scenes which take place some time later) are stitched together by having the older Tatyana and Onegin appear during the opera's prelude. Holten then tries to play the whole opera as a memory, using two dancers (Emily Ranford and Tom Shale-Coates) as the young Tatyana and young Onegin.During the dance at Madame Larina's it became clear that the production was moving between the real and some sort of memory space. There were moments when the lighting made the fixed set (a series of openings which could function as doors, shuttered windows or curtained of areas) look shabby and down at heel and the playing area acquired the detritus of memory, the sheaf from the peasants dance in the first scene, Tatyana's books, and this continued so we had a broken chair from the fight at Madame Larina's, the blasted tree from the duel scene and ultimately the prone body of Lensky as Michael Fabiano lay motionless throughout the two final scenes.The young Australian singer Nicole Car came close to my idea Tatyana. She sang with bright flexibility, with an underlying strength and firmness. She seemed to flit effortlessly between the young and older Tatyanas and was that rare species of singer who is able to incarnate both of them. In the first scenes, as young Tatyana, she really did look and sound young, yet in the letter scene produced a superb sense of maturity and depth to her performance. Much of the letter scene was sung directly to the audience and was searingly intense whilst remaining musical. Car has the potential to be a finely poised older Tatyana but in this production she cracks in the last scene and goes to pieces as much as Onegin.Dmitri Hvorostovsky, whom I understand to be still under treatment for his brain tumour. showed no sign of the illness and sang with his familiar dark, firm tones. For the opening scenes he was quite restrained, and not perhaps as darkly sexy as some, but brought in very much the fact that Onegin is a dandy. You sense that Hvorostovsky knows his Pushkin. This combination of hauteur and dandyism made his put-down of Tatyana all the more devastating. The climax in the final scenes, as Onegin goes to pieces, was very well done, but lacked the shock element as we had already seen the older Onegin throughout the opera. The duet with Michael Fabiano's Lensky was profoundly moving, Holten's concept for once moving in tandem with the music and reinforcing the message.The smaller roles were all strongly cast. Jean-Paul Fouchecourt was almost luxury casting as Monsieur Triquet, whilst Elliot Goldie, David Shipley, James Platt and Luke Price provided strong support as a peasant singer, a captain, Zaretsky and Guillot. In the pit Semyon Bychkov gave use everything we wanted and more. This was a lyrically passionate account of the score which still flowed beautifully and where the passion never made the music feel overblown or driven. Rarely have a heard a performance of Eugene Onegin which sounded so right. I can understand some of the thinking behind Kasper Holten's production, but ultimately I found the closing scenes to be robbed of power by his almost over analytical approach. Thankfully the musical account of the score gave us the passion and lyrical beauty lacking in the production.
The Royal Opera House’s latest revival of Richard Eyre’s version sees three different casts used during its run. The initial trio of Venera Gimadieva (Violetta), Samuel Sakker (Alfredo) and Luca Salsi (Germont) all pass muster on a difficult opening night: the original Alfredo Saimir Pirgu came down with a throat infection and was replaced on the day by the Australian tenor. Sakker, unsurprisingly, takes a little while to find his feet but absolutely nails his character’s pathos in the final act. In contrast, Salsi is a tour de force from soup to nuts, his acting perfectly complementing his character’s emotional arc. Russian soprano Gimadieva makes for a subtle Violetta whose impact is only truly felt from the second act onwards; her excoriating two-hander with Salsi is a no-holds-barred tearjerker which will stay long in the memory. Eyre’s production is a considerate and powerful piece. The set design is an expressive beast which ranges from the sumptuous opening party scenes to the denouement’s spartan mise en scène. Direction is fluid and punchy, especially towards the end; conversely the lighting makes a major impact on the first scene but adds comparatively little after. Down in the pit, Yves Abel conducts Verdi’s gorgeous music with verve and aplomb.
It tells the tale of the 16th century Russian tsar Boris Godunov who seized power after the death of Ivan the Terrible, allegedly after supervising the murder of Ivan's son, and went on to be almost as terrible as his predecessor. In the opera, he is plagued with guilt and ends up going mad, so the whole thing becomes a case history of increasing derangement. Most unusually, there is no major role for a woman singer, so there are no great soprano arias to liughten the musical mood, and it is Boris who dies at the end after the plot has meandered through the darker realms of insanity. The credit for the power of this scene goes equally to Terfel and the director, Richard Jones, and his team, whose striking design and costumes provide a visual treat matching the power of the music. Jones does, however, rather overdo a repeated vision tormenting Boris of the murder of Ivan's son which brought Boris to power.With Bryn Terfel as Boris dominating the show, all other roles are reduced to bit parts, but it is worth mentioning John Tomlinson as a drunken monk, who provided a much needed comic interlude to interrupt the sombre tale. As always, however, Bryn Terfel is well worth seeing and the intensity drawn from the orchestra by Antonio Pappano is magnificent.
Calling for a large cast coupled with a large orchestra and chorus getting a production of War and Peace off the ground is a mammoth undertaking for any opera company, so well done WNO for achieving such a feat and, indeed, for Sir David Pountney - who’s now preparing a new Ring cycle for Chicago’s Lyric Opera next year - for delivering such a colourful and, indeed, rewarding account of Prokofiev’s masterpiece which duly ended his nine-year tenure with the company. Mounted in association with Theater Magdeburg and first seen at Cardiff’s Millennium Centre in 2018, Pountney’s staging proved a minimalist affair while WNO’s Czech-born music director, Tomáš Hanus, brilliantly conducted the Welsh National Opera Orchestra in a performing version influenced by Katya Ermolaeva and Rita McAllister’s research reconstructing Prokofiev’s original intentions for the opera whilst still including some of the later additions such as the Act I waltz. A well-cast production, the role of Natasha Rostova was admirably sung by Lauren Michelle who made her WNO début in a stunning performance as Jessica in the 2016 production of André Tchaikowsky’s The Merchant of Venice while Jonathan McGovern (making his WNO début) delivered a confident and assured performance as Prince Andrei Bolkonsky. WNO regular, Mark Le Brocq - well-loved for his previous roles with the company appearing in Leoš Janáček’s From the House of the Dead, Alban Berg’s Lulu and The Merchant of Venice - put in a salutary performance as Count Pierre Bezukhov, looking the part from head to foot. They were a force to be reckoned with. Malcolm Rippeth’s atmospheric and moody lighting proved spectacular and realistic, too, while Marie-Jeanne Lecca - a long-standing creative partner of Sir David Pountney - came up with a formidable wardrobe that was a feast for the eyes especially the uniform for Jonathan May’s eccentric portrayal of Old Prince Bolkonsky who radiantly sang a lovely and nostalgic song praising his homeland. Really, I don’t think he would have looked out of place as a follower of the Kaiser Chiefs! As a curtain-raiser while the orchestra was tuning up, a character in the guise of Tolstoy dressed all in white sporting a long-white beard was seen working at his desk with a white-quilled pen writing his famous story with his Cyrillic script projected on a screen above him whilst the characters contained within the story - peasants, military, aristocrats and so forth - came together one by one merging on stage into an impressive statuesque formation before leading into the opening chorus that speaks of heroism and Mother Russia. And hats off to Welsh National Opera Chorus, so well-trained by Stephen Harris. But Sir David Pountney has the last word. He really has to: ‘War and Peace is one of the most famously demanding of operatic scores deploying massed choruses and a huge gallery of small roles to give authenticity to the great national drama of war and survival that it depicts. It is a superb showcase for WNO’s justly-famous chorus and for a company which prides itself on collective excellence.
Sung in English War and Peace might have been, but a nice touch was to have the work title in Cyrillic on the spine of the booklet. The surtitles did not always match exactly what was sung, which is slightly disconcerting if we are actually hearing the work in the vernacular. And that is basically getting the criticism out of the way: this was a spectacularly successful evening. Sir David Pountney’s production is vast in the scope of its imagination; aptly, as the chorus (and list of participants) is huge. The ‘Epigraph’ is here the first scene – most usually heard as the introduction to the ‘War’ scenes. The Russian people prepare to defend themselves: fervently patriotically, as one might expect. The sheer fortissimo, dissonant force is overwhelming in this production. The WNO chorus is in fine fettle, repeatedly revealing heft and huge enthusiasm for the dramaturgical thrust, while unleashing its partying side in the Ball. The stage is essentially static, with a semicircular wooden structure containing the on-stage action and projections towards the back. The projections include film excerpts from Sergei Bondarchuk’s 1966 film of the Tolstoy, but also, amongst many others, fabulous invocations of the atmosphere of a Russian Ball and a miraculous invocation of the fire of Moscow burning. It is clearly impossible to go into each and every soloist given the roster of singers. But it would be unfair not to admire David Stout’s fine, rich voice in the part of Dolukov (and Denisov, and Napoleon, and Raevsky). Whichever hat he was wearing, he excelled. He apparently has specialised in the role of Figaro, and also starred in WNO’s Figaro Gets a Divorce by the excellent composer Elena Langer. Simon Bailey’s Kutuzov, too, is astonishing, his soliloquy absolutely gripping vocally, musically and dramatically. Brno-born conductor Tomáš Hanus (who has taken WNO to his hometown, in fact) conducts with drive, yet can give the music space when required. The orchestra is extraordinarily well-trained, and one has to acknowledge, too, the sheer stamina, not least from the brass, sounding as fresh at the close as in that shattering opening chorus. Hanus responds beautifully to Prokofiev’s weaving of the tale, moving easily between spectacle and whispered statement, marshalling the huge choral moments with ease. WNO’s evening was a salutary reminder of the sheer power of Prokofiev’s magnificent score. It has been a good week for opera, what with Opera Holland Park’s L’arlesiana and the Wolf-Ferrari/Tchaikovsky evening. And what a way to crown it.
