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11Ceiling fans spin as Nadine Benjamin’s Clara sings Summertime to her baby – it’s the first singing we hear, and Benjamin delivers it gorgeously. You can almost hear the heat – and indeed, it is George Gershwin’s score, buoyantly played here under the specialist guidance of conductor John Wilson, that more than anything establishes the atmosphere of summer in the American south. Gershwin researched it enthusiastically: the prospect of working with Dorothy and DuBose Heyward and turning their play into an opera brought him to their hometown of Charleston, visiting churches and absorbing the music of the Gullah Geechee community first-hand. It’s no coincidence that there’s a slight stylistic shift whenever we hear from Sportin’ Life, the slippery, perma-smiling drug pusher who always has an eye on New York – his big numbers, including It Ain’t Necessarily So, have his voice shadowed by a quietly sleazy muted trumpet.
Nadine Benjamin, una soprano de carrera tardía y por ello mismo reconocida hoy en el Reino Unido como una artista capaz de llegar sin prejuicios de edad, cantó un excelente Summertime al comienzo y durante toda la velada protagonizó una Clara de fulminante autenticidad y carácter hasta el momento de su sacrificio final, cuando abandona a su hijo para buscar a su marido y ahogarse con él en medio de una tormenta. También merece una mención especial un My man is gone que Latonia Moore (Serena), cantó no como una queja individual sino como lo que debe ser, un lamento de trascendencia colectiva, en la línea del Requiem de Brahms.
The universality of its central themes of love and loss are easy enough to relate to; the Artistic Director of the ENO, Daniel Kramer, credits La Bohème’s prevailing popularity with the decision to restage its “near-perfect equilibrium between realism and romanticism, comedy and pathos, at whose heart lies the relationship between the forlorn couple of Rodolfo and Mimi”.https://www.ayoungertheatre.com/review-la-boheme-london-coliseum-3/
First seen in 2009, Miller’s Bohème nudges the action forward some 100 years to the ‘années folles’ of the 1920s. Café Momus becomes an edgy guinguette where Fitzgerald and André Breton might have traded writing tips with Rodolfo, and a Josephine Baker-esque Musetta (Nadine Benjamin) holds the stage. It’s a neat sleight-of-hand, nicely framed in Isabella Bywater’s revolving sets — an unobtrusive restoring of operatic order after Benedict Andrews’s teenage rebellion of a crack-den Bohème for ENO in 2015.
English National Opera’s cast and conductor serve Luisa Miller well. Alexander Joel, having previously conducted it in Braunschweig and Hamburg, knows all its beauties and qualities and brilliantly makes the best possible case for it. He is a maestro totally at home in the opera pit. And leading the cast irresistibly, Korean tenor David Junghoon Kim as Rodolfo sang and acted thrillingly – with excellent singing too from James Creswell’s Count Walter and the towering Soloman Howard as the Count’s agent Wurm, outstanding bass voices impeccably deployed.
Alexander Joel’s fine conducting, sensitive to the ebb and flow of Verdi’s paragraphs and moulding them into potent enactments of human conflict, makes the strongest possible case for the work in this new ENO production. He is aided by some outstanding singing: Elizabeth Llewellyn brings a warm, generous tone and touching empathy to the title role, while David Junghoon Kim, a recent Jette Parker Young Artist, adds another triumph to his early-career successes with a confident, impassioned Rodolfo.
Nicky Spence rings out like a heroic peal of bells as Siegmund. Emma Bell’s Sieglinde, in jeans and a tee-shirt, was the abused wife from The 39 Steps, welcoming a stranger (here with an industrial-sized jerry of water). Like Brünnhilde, a decent woman surrounded by vile men. The siblings work well together, despite schematic direction which initially has them moving like the figures in a German weather house.
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.
