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5In the title role, Natalya Romaniw was a complete star. This Tosca was tempestuous and fierce, driven by extremes of passion and envy, vengeance and despair, but Romaniw made such emotions feel so human and real, overcoming the practical obstacles and capturing the audience’s eyes, ears and hearts. During Scarpia’s Act 2 manipulations, I found myself truly drawn into the drama, forgetting the chilly breeze, the boomy sound and the fact that I was essentially watching a film-screen rather than an operatic stage. It was all the more remarkable as Romaniw, bare-shouldered in a beautiful blue gown, must have been frozen! As the wind whipped up off the water, no wonder she hugged her arms tightly around herself during Scarpia’s torturous onslaught. ‘Vissi d’arte’ held the moment entirely: there was not a shuffle or whisper from the captivated audience – and no doubt the birds and beasts in the Park were entranced too.
This was thanks to Puccini’s magic, to the orchestra’s vibrantly committed playing under Richard Farnes’s direction, and to larger-than-life performances by three outstanding singers. Baritone Roland Wood’s Scarpia (with perfect diction) had exactly the right kind of death-dealing menace, and when his duet-duel with soprano Natalya Romaniw’s Tosca reached its bloody denouement, some women in the audience let out an involuntary cheer.
Humour, drama, madness, eroticism, absurdities and the belief in the magical powers of a stone that can make people invisible - all this is in Domenico Cimarosa's sparkling intermezzo L'italiana in Londra . Even the premiere audience in 1778 in the historic Roman Teatro Valle enthusiastically followed the developments and complications between the international guests who met there in Madama Brillante's London hotel. A place like an alternative world to real life, in the center a pair of lovers: Livia, a daughter from a good Genoese family, and Milord Arespingh, who was ordered back from Jamaica by his father to marry an English lady. In a close connection with the text, the music not only reflects the individual characters, but also the social structure of the characters. In addition to paused arias and finely worked out duets, the work is characterized above all by extensive, action-packed ensembles. With this revaluation of the ensemble as a musical form, Cimarosa, who preceded L'italiana in Londracelebrated mainly in Rome and Milan, attracted international attention. Goethe praised the "highest aesthetic splendor" of his music and translated two of his libretti, while Haydn conducted 13 Cimarosa operas at the Esterházys' princely court in seven years. Finally, Rossini's triumphal procession dampened the success of his fellow composer.
The opera two of its best vocal performances, from Štefan Kocán, grave and urgent as the watchman who tries to dissuade Oedipus from his quest, and from Marie-Nicole Lemieux, who takes on the Sphinx’s ferociously difficult lines with aplomb, swooping up and down through the extremes of the range, and creates a real flesh-and-blood character out of the agent of fate. The title role makes extraordinary demands on the baritone, who is the centre of attention almost continually for two and a half hours. Johan Reuter gave a compelling rendering, with plenty of steel in the voice. At his best in the big emotional highs, he couldn’t keep up the highest standard for the whole time – I’m not sure I can think of a singer who could, which might explain why Oedipe isn’t performed more often – so some details were lost in the quieter moments. But this was a performance that reached deep into the heart of the drama and dug out enormous amounts of characterisation. There are no other lead roles. I could mention half a dozen others in an exceptionally strong supporting cast, but I’ll limit myself to one: the blind prophet Tiresias gets two interventions where his pronouncements alter the course of the whole drama. Sir John Tomlinson proved himself still capable of making a dramatic entrance and making us quail in our seats. My one cavil is that Peter van Praet’s lighting will have been too dark for anyone up in the amphitheatre, while blinding anyone in the stalls in the scene of Oedipus’ killing of his father, presented as a road rage incident. But my last word goes to conductor Leo Hussain, starting his Royal Opera career the hard way with a score of exceptional complexity, making it instantly accessible to first-time listeners and delivering colour and power throughout. Oedipe is opera at its most potent – visually, musically, vocally, dramatically. Go see it!
The cast is entirely new, and it’s led by a British tenor who is now deservedly moving centre-stage in London after a long apprenticeship in Germany. Benjamin Hulett’s sound is simply glorious – rich, rounded, warm, and expressive – and he incarnates Prince Tamino as though born to play the part.
