I don’t
normally do first nights. While the
great and the good (and the not so good) like to see and be seen, and critics
of course need to be first off the block to publish their thoughts, by and large
I much prefer to wait and let the performance ‘bed in’ first. I already had a ticket booked for mid-run so
what on earth made me run to the box office to secure another?
Well, many
things as it happens, but primarily the announcement that the first three
performances (at least) were to be sung by Lianna Haroutounian due to the
indisposition of Marina Poplavskya. I
was lucky enough to catch Lianna singing Elisabetta in Don Carlos (standing in
for another indisposed soprano) last year and was impressed by secure,
rich-toned voice and the sensitive acting.
A first class Verdi soprano in the making. Not willing to take a gamble on Ms
Poplavskya’s non-return (and I’d quite like to hear her too) I decided to go
for a first night ticket. I managed to
bag one of my favourite stalls circle bench-seats and so I had a nice clear view of most of the
proceedings.
As has been
written about ad-infinitum elsewhere, Les Vepres Siciliennes is one of Verdi’s
neglected masterpieces and even more rarely performed in the original
French. Another good reason to don the
glad rags and head off to Covent Garden for
the unreasonably (but necessary) early start of 6pm. I also spotted a few familiar faces amongst
the crowds; Norma Major, David Mellor, Mark Elder and Kasper Holten.
So it was
with a really keen sense of anticipation that I finally settled into my seat
and waited for the overture to begin and the curtain to rise.
Things did
not start well – for me at least.
One of my pet
peeves is having some sort of dumb show on stage during overtures, as though
the director cannot trust the audience to let the music do the explaining or
that he cannot abide music having primacy over drama perhaps? For whatever
reason a dumb-show we were treated to.
Which quickly brings me to my second pet peeve and that is the
gratuitous depiction of rape on the opera stage – and this all before the
overture was even finished. But for some
strange reason I was in a forgiving mood and I decided to give Stefan Herheim a
pass for both transgressions just this once.
Given the rarity with which this opera is performed, a little back story
for those in the audience who had come rushing in straight from work did not go
amiss.
Ah yes,
Stefan Herheim, one of the 'enfant terribles' of the operatic ‘regie-theatre’
world. The audience must have been
half-afraid, half-hoping that some shocking piece of lèse-majesté would be let
loose upon the stage. I for one was just
hoping for excellent music making and hopefully a coherent piece of
story-telling. Well I'm happy to report
that I certainly got my first wish – and nearly all of my second.
If you did
not happen to know that the original opera was set in the 13th
century then on the surface it looked as
traditional as they come. But the action
had been transposed to the time of the opera’s composition – a not entirely
original idea it has to be said, but the sets and costumes were gorgeous
indeed. Also included was the ‘stage
with in a stage’ concept, this time the stage was the Paris opera house where this opera first
debuted. Apparently all of this was
supposed to illustrate the ‘rape of art’. I'm not sure that it entirely succeeded but it didn't interfere with the
actual story being played out in music and words so I went with it. The final act is where Herheim lost me
completely, but so completely and utterly bonkers was it, that really you just couldn't help smiling.
If the
production values were of the highest, then so was most of the singing. The four cast principles were pretty evenly
matched with perhaps Michael Volle standing out as a dramatically and vocally
superb de Montfort. Erwin Schrott was a
hoot as an especially effete but essentially dangerous Procida – here played as
a Ballet Master. I though that the chemistry with Lianna Haroutounian was
especially close. Lianna started off
well with gorgeous dark-toned and luscious singing but to my ears at least, she audibly
tired towards the end - which is
unfortunately where Verdi placed her big aria of the night. Trills and coloratura were approximate in ‘Merci
jeunes amies’ but it was never
unmusical. I was trying to think who
would be up to the task of this role today and must admit I can’t really think
of anyone – not even Anja Harteros who seems to be the pre-eminent Verdi soprano
of today. However I really enjoyed
Lianna’s singing and I hope the Royal Opera has signed her up in her own right,
rather than as a replacement for ailing sopranos.
Now, anyone
who knows me, or reads this blog, will know that my favourite voice type is
tenor. I have heard Bryn Hymel before in
Les Troyens where he stepped in for Jonas Kaufmann and did a very competent job
indeed. And while he did another
sterling job here (in a very demanding role) I still can’t say that I enjoyed
his singing. There’s nothing wrong with
it, indeed there is much to admire, including his facility in the upper ranges
of the tenor voice. It is simply that
the basic tone doesn't really appeal to me.
There’s a lack of ‘glamour’ in the voice – vocal glamour I hasten to
add, not personal. Indeed Mr Hymel is a good
looking chap who obviously knows his way around the stage and is a decent actor
to boot. But I just didn't ‘feel’ it –
but that only goes to show that reaction to voices is a very individual thing.
So all in
all, a very enjoyable night indeed. It
was a treat to hear such good singing in an all too rare performance of a Verdi
opera. Tony Pappano was of course the
ultimate star of the show, leading the orchestra in a sensitive but thrilling
rendition of the score.
The
production, far from being outlandish and unmusical (as some might have feared)
was sure-footed, thought provoking and entirely at one with the music. The production team was certainly greeted
with enthusiasm at curtain-call time, which has not always been the case with new productions at ROH
recently. There was really nothing here
to scare the children as it were (unless you count Erwin Schrott in a frock),
which is why I suspect the audience lapped it up.
In fact at
times it all seemed a bit too familiar.
There was a hint of Ballo in Maschera in the ball scene (musically as
well as scenically) and I was struck by a resemblance in parts to the 1982
Ernani at La Scala with Domingo. And
speaking of Ernani, now what wouldn’t I give to see a new production of that at
Covent Garden?
But in the
meantime, I would heartily recommend that if you possibly can, go see
this. You won’t regret it.
