Samuel Sakker / Arvustused

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.

When it emerged that one of the world’s biggest companies had hired a young and almost completely inexperienced guy for their latest effort, many were perturbed. But Chris Addison proves them wrong in Emmanuel Chabrier’s L’Étoile which has opened at the Royal Opera House. The comedian — known for his role in The Thick Of It — plays Smith, a role which fits his acting and stand-up talents like a glove. It involves, after all, the kind of zany and bizarre plot that would turn Malcolm Tucker into a mute pile of flailing eyebrows.Kate Lindsey stands out in her turn as Lazuli; her singing on O petite étoile, where Lazuli thanks his lucky star is especially poignant. Ouf’s Couplets de pal (describing his penchant for impaling) is the perfect introduction to this opera’s dark humour.The acting across the cast raises the laugh levels as does a set inspired by Terry Gilliam’s work for Monty Python. The addition of many modern references — including verbal nods to the Mayor of London and the capital’s most famous consulting detective — gives L’Étoile unexpected twists when they are least expected. On the same night that Addison popped his opera cherry, director Mariame Clement opened her account in Covent Garden and conductor Mark Elder celebrated 40 years of waving a baton for the Royal Opera House. This low-profile and laudable production may yet lay the groundwork for more milestones yet.

Sophie Koch was an astonishing Venus, making her Royal Opera role debut triumphantly. Rich and refulgent of tone, her voice was fully open; this, coupled with her sheer stage presence made her hypnotic. Perhaps Peter Seiffert was not quite her equal, and the opening scenes revealed a trait that was disconcertingly present throughout the evening: a sort of zooming in and out of focus for his voice and, indeed, his rapport with the role itself. Initially, he sounded disconnected and strained; then for a while all would be fine, as if everything was congruent once more, before strain once more crept in. He is an experienced Tannhäuser, for sure (San Francisco, Berlin State, Deutsche Oper and Zurich are amongst the opera houses that have featured him in this role), but this was not his night; the beam was not consistently on full, shall we say. Far more consistent was the clear star of the evening, Christian Gerhaher in the role of Wolfram. He brought a Lieder singer’s art to Wagner’s long lines, triumphantly: here was a strong interpretation moulded into human shape by infinite gradations of tone and flexibilities of phrasing. Lyrical and beautiful, his “O du, mein lieber Anendstern” brought the hushed intimacy of a fine liederabend at the Wigmore Hall to the far more spacious Covent Garden – yet the sound projected over the vast space perfectly. The role furnished Gerhaher’s Covent Garden debut in 2010. Emma Bell’s Elisabeth, another singer making a role debut, was magnificent. Set amongst ruins, “Dich teure Halle” needed all the magic she could inject, and her gleaming voice brought it through. Here was an intensely human Elisabeth, and we the audience felt her hopes and fears with her in the song contest.other small roles were well taken, including Michael Kraus’s Biterolf and Stephen Milling’s confident Hermann. Yet it is difficult to ignore the fact that the imperfect masterpiece that is Tannhäuser still makes its blazing mark. If Haenchen’s tempi alternated between injecting intensity and just staying the right side of feeling rushed, he remained within boundaries; and Gerhaher’s Wolfram made the evening worthwhile.

Verdi’s first successful opera may not be many people’s favourite but the current Royal Opera House production surely raises the work a few rungs up the ladder of appeal.Let’s start with the chorus. There are operas where the members of the chorus have a couple of numbers, walk on the stage, sing their piece and are shepherded off to the wings. Not in Nabucco. Verdi composed some exhilarating pieces for them and I am not referring solely to the all-too-famous Va pensiero. The chorus is bunched up in the centre of the stage when they render the legendary number but it is a mourning piece and does not call for electrifying singing like some of the other choruses. The augmented Royal Opera House Chorus is worth the price of admission alone.The title role is sung alternately by Placido Domingo, the grand old man of opera and the relative newcomer, Greek baritone Dimitri Platanias making his Royal Opera House role debut. He gives a signature performance. From the arrogant king to the unhinged ruler and humiliated father, he achieves simply superb vocal resonance and emotional range. Just listen to his delivery of Deh perdona (Have mercy on a delirious father) where the great king is reduced to begging for mercy for his daughter from a slave who scorns him.Soprano Jamie Barton is Nabucco’s real daughter and the one who has snatched the tenor. She does not face the same demands as Monastyrska but she gives a praiseworthy performance. Tenor Leonard Capalbo gives a fine accounting of himself in the role of Ismaele.Director Daniele Abbado and Designer Alison Chitty have opted for a production that has modern overtones especially with the issue of displaced people and refugees. The costumes are modern and I felt that the direction given was “come as you are and bring your children for good measure.” That is not as bad as it sounds because ordinary dress is quite suitable and many of the refugees one sees on television are not dressed better or worse than what one sees on stage at the Royal Opera House. Children are very much a part of the refugee problem and having a few of them on stage was á propos. The set consisted of rectangular rocks and sand for much of the production. There was judicious use of projections (designed by Luca Scarzella) to dramatize some aspects of the production. The concept behind the productions seems sound but I am not sure that the execution of it matched the intent.Benini conducted the Orchestra of the Royal Opera House with the vigour and discipline that the music and concept of the opera demand. It was an outstanding performance.

The Royal Opera House’s Il Trovatore is a war opera. Black and grey colours dominate. You will see tanks, machine guns, campers, smoke, wooden crosses, fires burning and, yes, passions raging. This is David Bösch’s modern-dress interpretation of Giuseppe Verdi’s opera. A bit of torture and war crimes can be gleaned but the final tableau will be a huge, fiery heart that could be interpreted as the triumph of love through death.Leonora, the woman who loved him to death does a much better job in the hands of Armenian soprano Lianna Haroutounian. Dressed in dramatic white amid the gloomy colours of the others, she sang with emotional conviction and dramatic effect. Georgian mezzo-soprano Anita Rachvelishvili outdid everyone as the gypsy Azucena. “Stole the show” is the catchphrase that comes to mind but that would be unfair and untrue. She did not steal it – she earned it. She delivered an outstanding performance in an admittedly marvellous role and the audience just loved her. Rachvelishvili has a marvellous, smoky voice that can spew venom and passion as she single-mindedly pursues vengeance. One enjoys every minute of her presence on stage.Ukrainian bass Alexander Tsymbalyuk deserves praise for his performance in the relatively minor role of Ferrando. He is the fine officer who carries out orders and Tsymbalyuk sang with commendable sonority.Il Trovatore is a highly approachable opera despite its somewhat turgid plot. It has some great melodies and between love duets and martial music it makes for opera the way most people imagine it to be. Bösch gives us a far more nuanced production and puts his imprimatur on the opera. That is what directors must do. The Orchestra of the Royal House Opera and Royal Opera Chorus were conducted by Richard Farnes in an exceptional night at the opera.

In London, Fleming’s colleagues were less consistently good than Fleming herself. Reiffenstuel’s dresses for Alice Coote’s Octavian and Mariandel were not the most becoming the mezzo-soprano has worn on this stage, where she has thus far specialized in male characters. Coote’s singing was often ungainly, frequently with a discomfiting rawness to the tone. The finest exponent of the three main women’s parts was Sophie Bevan, who sang the ingenue role of her namesake to perfection, with a top register to die for.Steinberg’s family-sized sets looked too big on the Covent Garden stage; the Princess’s bedroom and its mammoth collection of dynastic paintings dwarfed the characters. A troublesome feature of Act II was a collection of enormous field guns and an obsession with rifles: in his desire to underline the militarism of his redesignated period, Carsen decided, without any specifics in Hofmannsthal’s text to back it up, that the army supplies that provide the basis of Faninal’s fortune were, in fact, armaments. Act III swapped the original’s dubious suburban inn for a palatial, populous brothel, where Ochs’s assignation with Mariandel almost got lost in the wider sweep of hedonistic goings-on. Overall, Carsen’s direction lacked the detail and focus that can make Der Rosenkavalier profoundly moving. Supplying some, at least, of the missing magic was the conducting of Andris Nelsons, whose enthusiasm for Strauss has already resulted in persuasive Covent Garden performances of Salome and Elektra. Once again his ability to balance super-enriched textures and provide dramatic momentum in a score that needs to be kept on the move paid rich dividends. The Orchestra of the Royal Opera House responded keenly to his confident direction.

Bakanova is undeniably the star of the show. Her voice, pure and clean, dips and rises above the orchestra. She exudes a simmering balance of gentility and intensity, weakness and strength. Her dramatization of Violetta is as brilliant and vibrant as her voice, and the emotion she injects into her arias, particularly Amami, Alfredo and the haunting Addio, del passato, is palpable. Ayan, in comparison, is less remarkable, as Bakanova is so mesmerising, but he is also a fine actor and an even better tenor. He is commanding and forthcoming as Alfredo, and perhaps with a little more warmth towards Violetta, the chemistry between the pair wouldn’t have felt as flat in the first act. However, their interactions improve in vigour and sincerity towards the end of the piece, and it becomes devastating to listen as they make plans in vain in Parigi, o cara at the end of the third act. Baritone Nicola Alaimo as Giorgio Germont sometimes goes unheard beneath the orchestra, while Doctor Grenvil (David Shipley) performs his few lines with surprising power and clarity. Designer Bob Crowley’s set is simple and understated, and not at all overbearing. During the final act, the wide-open space and Parisian shutters, with peeling walls of washed-out grey make the perfect space for Violetta. The lighting design by Jean Kalman is stunning, from the ominous shadow cast over Giorgio during the second act, to Violetta’s apartment awash with blue light as silhouettes of carnival revellers are seen passing by outside. La Traviata is so tragic it is almost painful, but in the most exquisite way. The tale of a fallen woman, struck by an incurable affliction in the prime of her life, is sure to pull at your heartstrings. If you’ve never been to the opera, as I hadn’t before seeing La Traviata, then I whole-heartedly recommend it. It’s grandiose, it’s a spectacle, and the cast and orchestra are obviously sublimely talented. Don’t be put off by the running time of three hours and forty-five minutes, as it’s all over far too quickly. This production of La Traviata is tender, heart-breaking, and simply beautiful.