Sinéad Campbell Wallace / Reviews

In 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.

As a result, the evening relied more on the fine Marcello and Musetta from Charles Rice and Louise Alder, who gave the tragedy the ring of truth, both revealed and camouflaged by their explosive relationship. Alder took charge of her Café Momus waltz with imperious ease, considerable humour and some impressive coloratura, while in Act Three Rice’s immensely likeable Marcello in fine acting and singing painfully got to the heart of the misery Mimì and Rodolfo are inflicting on each other – they can’t live with or without each other. Rice naturally took charge of the artist household, backed up William Thomas’s Colline and Benson Wilson’s Schaunard, both strongly characterised and sung.

Or maybe not, for one of the most impressive aspects was Ben Glassberg’s conducting, which revelled in Puccini’s Wagnerisms, memories of Tristan evoked quite magically in the first act, without taking for something they were not. The sounds extracted from the ENO Orchestra were often magnificent: a great dynamic range, from moments of hushed intimacy, to grand, declamatory gesture. But it was Glassberg’s pacing and his reconciliation of vocal and orchestral demands that marked this out most strongly. That was not all his doing, of course. Both orchestra and chorus—what a joy to see and hear a chorus, handled most resourcefully, onstage once again—deserved plaudits in their own right. String sheen and incisiveness, bubbling woodwind and chorus: these and more played their part in weaving an effervescent, yet ever-darkening dramatic tapestry.

»Hervorragend besetzt war außerdem der Orest mit der prachtvollen Bassbaritonstimme von Derek Welton, übrigens dem designierten Wotan im – hoffentlich doch noch zu realisierenden – neuen ›Ring‹ an der Deutschen Oper Berlin.«

‘Welton takes the prize for the most pregnant diction of the evening, and together with a substantial and effortless bass-baritone, can claim an auspicious debut.’