Samuel Youn / Recensies

Uzbekistani tenor Mavlyanov made his Royal Opera debut tonight as Cavaradossi with no obvious show of nerves: his first aria Recondita Armonia was cool and composed, and his E lucevan le stelle in the final chapter displayed an impressive balance of tender warmth and burning passion. However, Frontali’s interpretation of the menacing Scarpia fell flat as the choral and orchestral forces were asked to save the grandeur of the Act 1 Finale, but his villainous affair with Tosca did revive his performance later on. A character of many faces, experienced soprano Echalaz embraced the melodramatic personality of Tosca in sublime fashion: from the opening jealousy-induced comedy and flirtatious dialogue with Cavaradossi to the breathtakingly poignant aria Vissi d’arte and graceful second act duets. Echalaz’s acting was as compelling as her voice, as she sealed Tosca’s tragic fate with a dignified leap from the walls of the Castel Sant’Angelo. Credit should also be given to the ROH Orchestra. Under the baton of Villaume, the orchestra provided a sensitive and equally passionate musical backdrop, from the blazing opening chords, the thunderous string unison force that marked the death of Scarpia, the graceful woodwind colours, the notable clarinet melody heartening Cavaradossi’s final act romanza and the strident forte brass in the catastrophic conclusion. The mix of rousing drama, inevitable tragedy and an opulent musical orchestration full of exquisite melodies, rich harmonies and textures left the capacity audience moved by Puccini’s operatic achievement.

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!

With its ghostly anti-hero, obsessive heroine and a plot littered with Freudian symbols, The Flying Dutchman is the ripest of Wagner’s early operas for a psychological deep dive. He may not show us a ship, a spinning wheel, or a portrait, but that is what Olivier Py does in this intellectual, brilliantly conceived, and occasionally baffling 2015 staging for Theater an der Wien. Py is working from Wagner’s 1841 Paris version. Senta’s father becomes Donald, her lover is called Georg, and crucially there is no “redemption” motif at the end of the overture or at the conclusion of the drama. His vision is supported by Marc Minkowski’s highly charged account of the score played by his excellent original instrument band Les Musiciens du Louvre. It’s a cracking reading with brilliantly incisive strings, lithe woodwind and not a bum note in sight from the brass. Py draws parallels between a theatre (Wagner’s natural domain) and a ship (not his natural domain), with sailors who resemble stagehands and a physical representation of the Dutchman’s nemesis Satan, here shown at the top of the show making up as an actor (although played by a dancer). At other points, Senta chalks “Erlösung” (Redemption) on the rear wall, the Spinning Chorus is sung by a women’s glee club and a naked girl cringes beneath a bed at the approach of the predatory Dutchman. Played out in stylish black and white on Pierre-André Weitz’s ingenious, frequently revolving set, actors and set elements come and go to sometimes dizzying effect. There’s a dreamlike quality to the action – something only has to be mentioned and it magically appears. The graveyard that springs up at the Dutchman’s feet, the waves that appear at the end, the skull and skeletons, are all theatrical coups. It’s sometimes brain-taxing, yet never less than theatrically engaging and dramatically compelling. As the Dutchman, Samuel Youn sings with incisive power and great attention to text. Ingela Brimberg’s Senta is viscerally felt with thrilling top notes, if occasionally strident, while Bernard Richter’s warm-toned tenor is spot on as Georg. Lars Woldt’s grasping bully of a Donald raises a nasty misogynist flag about the world in which his daughter is bartered and sold. François Roussillon’s astute video direction manages to focus the action without losing the appropriate sense of scale. Sound – especially orchestral detail – is excitingly meticulous.