Donizetti - Maria Stuarda (Madrid, 2024)

Gaetano Donizetti - Maria Stuarda

Teatro Real, Madrid, 2024

José Miguel Pérez-Sierra, David McVicar, Lisette Oropesa, Aigul Akhmetshina, Ismael Jordi, Roberto Tagliavini, Andrzej Filończyk, Elissa Pfaender

ARTE Concert - 20th December 2024

For the little that they reflect reality, there doesn't seem to be any compelling reason to stage a historical opera in period setting and costume… etc. I started the last two reviews of the 2025 productions of Maria Stuarda at Salzburg and Budapest with that opening line and they both proved that point - I thought anyway - exceptionally well. There is indeed no compelling reason to present this opera on the modern stage in a mid-16th century period context: not unless you are a fairly reactionary opera director like David McVicar. Sorry, Sir David McVicar. Even then, I'm not sure what historical value a director can find interesting in an operatic dramatisation of a royal dispute that took place 500 years ago. 'Wolf Hall' this is not.

But on the basis that there are many who love a period drama, one with elaborate opera costumes and sets and yet still get to the emotional heart of a work, David McVicar is your man. If you are going to present a British royal drama in a historical context to a Spanish audience however, you are going to need to provide a little more in the way of background to the rationale and plotting behind Mary, Queen of Scots being arrested, imprisoned and executed in 1587 in a dispute with Elizabeth over the claim to being the rightful Queen of England. This is covered in a brief preface to the synopsis in the programme for the audience at the Teatro Real, but for the purposes of François Roussillon's version recorded for TV and DVD, the key events of the background to Maria Stuarda are detailed in a filmed sequence during the playing of the overture.

Director David McVicar used to be a bit more adventurous in his productions, sticking closely to the original setting and not imposing some grand concept on a work, but he would often mix it up a little - and still does. Even his previous production of Maria Stuarda for the Met in 2013 was a little more stylised than this latest production for the Teatro Real in Madrid a decade later. So while the costumes are fairly authentic to the period and the principal singers are all made up to closely resemble the historical figures they are meant to represent, McVicar tries to ensure that the spectacle at least matches the grand tone of the opera: the regal grandness, that is, of the two central queens who dominate above everything else.

For the introductory scene to the court of Elizabeth then, a huge royal orb hanging over the stage against the backdrop of a carved wall is all that is needed to suggest power and influence. That and a Queen Elizabeth who takes to the stage and dominates everything else through her pronouncements, but traditionally mainly through her vocal delivery. The reliefs on the wall however are all of ears and eyes, "Lower your voice within these walls", The Earl of Leicester tells Talbot when he mentions she-whose-name-must-not-be-spoken in the presence of Elisabeth. The suggestion - a fairly obvious one of course, but worth drawing attention to all the same - is that the Queen had eyes and ears everywhere and the punishment for treason and treachery is severe. This is typical of the McVicar aesthetic, making it feel authentically period, capturing the tone and mood of the situation and making a few bold gestures to that effect.

A bold statement perhaps, but in comparison to the two other productions of Maria Stuarda this year that I have seen, the period glamour in thrall to historical period detail means it is also the least spectacular, the historical detail detracting from the focus of where the real heart of the opera lies. That's a subjective view admittedly, and others might see it differently. Within this there is still room for bold statements and the director feels no obligation to follow directions of the libretto to the letter for each scene. The prison park where Mary is held is a wide platform with a background a huge splash of blood-like red, the overhanging orb of royal authority feeling oppressive here. Red leaves fall and scatter on the ground like spots of blood, anticipating the conclusion rather early, although to what purpose at this stage isn't clear, other than pointing to the inevitability of the conclusion to this dispute.

As with those other productions, and indeed any production of this opera, much rests on the chemistry between the two queens and perhaps Leicester plays an important factor in that as well. But again direction is important, and here we have the opportunity to compare how Lisette Oropesa fares under McVicar's direction as opposed to Ulrich Rasche's at Salzburg. I don't think there is any question that the stylised pacing and supernumerary support of the Salzburg carries more of the personal inner life than the operatic soprano mannerisms Oropesa is left to deliver to the audience here in Madrid, involving a lot of eye rolling and swaying, with hands held out in supplication (I'm reminded of the same in McVicar's direction of Sondra Radvanovsky in the 2022 Met production of Cherubini's Medea.

Other arias are similarly delivered outward, each often turning away from the person they are addressing to sing to themselves, the audience and the camera. McVicar clearly doesn't want to stray too far from convention and the expectations of the Spanish audience at Teatro Real, which sadly no longer has the creative experimentation of Gérard Mortier. (Yes, perhaps a minority view that one). There is definitely something to be said however for the Salzburg production internalising emotions and still delivering powerfully but, to make a cultural generalisation, perhaps the tone adapted is one that plays to the character of the audience. There may be something about meeting the expectations of the Spanish audience, who indeed have their own monarchy and may find the execution of a Catholic Queen by the Protestant ruler historically significant, albeit 500 years ago.

I think it does a disservice to try to treat this opera 'realistically' as a period costume drama. Yes, it can be just as effective as an opera experience, McVicar's handling of mood is excellent and for all that conventionality the scenes are all fully in the character of the high operatic drama. There is clearly more depth that can be explored in the motivations of the characters however than in trying to find some accommodation between historical records, Schiller’s dramatisation and the libretto that Donizetti works from. All you get is opera and opera dramatics, when those contrasting viewpoints, not to mention the contrasting experiences and worldviews of Mary and Elisabeth as rivals - and more than just opera rivals - is a subject worth exploring in more detail, without necessarily having to find any contemporary resonance.

Lisette Oropesa pulls out the regal and human emotional stops in the preghiera impressively in the closing scenes. The Earl of Leicester you can leave aside for any significant personal role in the drama other than being a foil for the enmity that lies between the two women rivals. It's a good tenor role nonetheless and well sung here by Ismael Jordi. Aigul Akhmetshina's Elisabetta doesn't have the same vocal authority that the role and the formidable costume that comes with the position demands, but is a great presence nonetheless and sings well. Again you can make allowances for interpretation and how you want to treat the role as having a degree of vulnerability and insecurity. Personally I felt that the conducting and performance of the score under José Miguel Pérez-Sierra was also a little too smoothly 'Classical', lacking in fire or character. Sadly, in that respect, it was a match for McVicar’s direction. The Madrid audience loved it.

External links: ARTE Concert, Teatro Real

Donizetti - Maria Stuarda (Budapest, 2025)

Gaetano Donizetti - Maria Stuarda

Hungarian State Opera, 2025

Martin Rajna, Máté Szabó, Orsolya Sáfár, Gabriella Balga, Melinda Heiter, Juraj Hollý, Norbert Balázs, István Kovács

OperaVision - 16th May 2025

For the little that they reflect reality, there doesn't seem to be any compelling reason to stage a historical opera in period setting and costume… etc. See my review of the 2025 Salzburg production of Maria Stuarda for the rest of this paragraph…

Since there are a couple of recent productions of this opera available to view on the various opera streaming platforms - and this is clearly a Donizetti opera that appears to be enjoying some renewed popularity at the moment - I thought I would take a look at how some other opera companies approach the work, not to see if one is better than the other (although obviously one is drawn to make comparisons and have preferences), but whether those approaches make any significant difference to how the work is viewed. None could be more extremely removed from the historical period than the Salzburg production, you would think, but the Hungarian State Opera has a go at rivalling it for eccentricity of interpretation, while still remaining true to the intent of the work.

The style of production here in Budapest is one I would describe as 'designer' opera, one that is somewhat abstract or unrelated to any specific period other than looking 'operatic'. The court of Elizabeth in the Hungarian State Opera production directed by Máté Szabó looks the way it might have if there an extravagant fashion designer with a taste for science-fiction had been sent back from the future to create costumes for the British royal court. They may have found employment also for an architect with leanings towards fascist architecture to redesign the royal palace to be a bit more practical and functional than a 16th century castle, making sure that there is an illuminated Exit sign (an ominous one for Mary Stuart in Act II) and a canteen with a drinks machine well-stocked with plastic bottles of water to keep the court hydrated. In other words, the idea is to present an image of wealth and inspire a degree of awe in the population and since an ancient medieval look might not seem quite as impressive now; a look to impress a modern audience, which you have to admit is the really who you want to impress. And impress this does.

In contrast to the recent production at the Salzburg Festival which used its design to reflect the inner reality and explore the state of mind of two women driven by political machinery and expectations of state, the intention of the Budapest design is perhaps more to reflect or present the image of power and authority that Elizabeth wishes to convey in the difficult decisions she has to make in relation to the prisoner who also believes she has a more 'legitimate' claim to the throne. It may also be an image of might and repression that the Hungarian audience would be familiar with from their own history, but what it does effectively is to remove any trappings of soft-power royal indulgence and in the process highlight how far removed from everyday reality - the reality of most ordinary people - they are.

And yet, their actions do have an impact on people's lives. Even if the modern day British royal family’s personal affairs have little impact on the people of the UK, they are still an serve a purpose as an important figurehead to remind common people of their station as subjects more than as citizens, and as such more easily bent to the will of their political masters. I can't say for sure what a production of Maria Stuarda says to a Hungarian audience, but I'm sure they also recognise in this production the personal extravagance of their leaders and the oppressive force that they have been subjected to in their history. As such, the production design strikes a good balance between abstract and reality, with the potential to have different shades of meaning for each viewer.

But of course most importantly, its intention is to look like a grand opera spectacle, because Donizetti's Maria Stuarda is indeed written as an operatic extravaganza of charged emotions and high drama and the 2025 Budapest production delivers that in spades. And not just in terms of spectacle, but also meeting the challenge of Donizetti's musical composition and the great roles he provides for the mezzo-soprano and soprano queens. Elisabetta is the first to show her colours and Gabriella Balga delivers in the great duet between Queen Elizabeth and Leicester (a fine Juraj Hollý) over the letter from Mary. It's perhaps not as subtly smouldering with jealous rage as the Kate Lindsey in the Salzburg production but that production had another angle and interpretation and there is no question that Balga brings the operatic fireworks required for the tone of the Budapest production.

Speaking of colour, having just watched two productions of Maria Stuarda back-to-back (I might do a third), I notice that despite the reputation of Donizetti and indeed this particular opera, there is no excessive coloratura in the bel canto, but rather every note sung by Elisabetta and Maria is expressive of the deep emotional charge of the situations. Seen in that context the performance of Orsolya Sáfár as Maria is just outstanding. Yes, wholly operatic, but with a passionate delivery, impressive power, with the range and ability to sustain high notes. She definitely set this Mary up as a formidable rival to Elizabeth. And, despite yourself, you look forward all the more here to the famous encounter where the claws come out. Even more so the two singers having already flexed the muscles of their impressive vocal weaponry. If these rulers were nuclear powers we would be in trouble.

Still, trouble enough for Mary Stuart. I don't care who you are, but I imagine you would still find it hard to get away with calling a queen a 'vil bastarda' to her face, so Maria Stuarda still packs an operatic punch that stands up today for shock value - not least in the manner in which it is delivered. With the Act I mic-drop delivered, Act II has to look elsewhere for its drama and spectacle and finds it in the stylish stylised sets, with Elizabeth in her silver satin armour - more for fashion design than as any indication of her nature. There are no such doubts about Mary's condition, dressed in white and suspended like a bird in a cage. There are lots of wonderful touches to the surrounding architecture in these final scenes, not least in Maria's walk to the scaffold, all in keeping with the operatic character of the royal drama.

It would be remiss not to give credit and praise to set designer Csaba Antal and costume designer Anni Füzér here, as their contribution to the whole look and feel of the extravagant production is evident and vital. The director Máté Szabó too has a clear idea of what he wants to get across in the opera and with Martin Rajna and the Hungarian State Opera Orchestra delivering a full dynamic account of the score, ensures that every scene is as charged as it can be. Primarily the success of this production and the key to the success of any production of Maria Stuarda however lies in the casting and performances of the two queens, and both here are absolutely outstanding, with good Italian diction, technical ability and sheer opera diva personality.

I'm not going to compare them with the performances in the Salzburg production. Much as some would like to see Maria Stuarda and opera as some kind of singing contest (each to their own), the real benefit of comparing productions is in seeing the individual personality that each singer brings to the role. The performances in the Budapest production are perhaps a little more traditionally operatic while the Salzburg production goes for a stylised interpretation of the roles, but the singing here is no less impressive across the board. There is plenty of fire and personality here to match the drama and visual extravagance, everything you want from this or indeed any of Donizetti's English monarchy operas.

External links: OperaVision, Hungarian State Opera

Donizetti - Maria Stuarda (Salzburg, 2025)

Gaetano Donizetti - Maria Stuarda

Salzburger Festspiele, 2025

Antonello Manacorda, Ulrich Rasche, Kate Lindsey, Lisette Oropesa, Bekhzod Davronov, Aleksei Kulagin, Thomas Lehman, Nino Gotoshia

ORF2 broadcast - August 2025

For the little that they reflect reality, there doesn't seem to be any compelling reason to stage a historical opera in period setting and costume. There may be something in the drama that can be spun out to reflect the world we see around us today and the direction of contemporary politics, as in 2024 Vienna production of Don Carlo directed by Kirill Serebrennikov, but not all operas are suited to such treatment. Donizetti's Maria Stuarda, based on Friedrich Schiller's drama of the jealous female rivalry that exists between two English queens, Mary Stuart and Elizabeth I for the heart of one man, is probably no more significant than feuding contemporary British Royals and as such likely to be something of deep indifference to most. What it does have to offer however is plenty of high operatic drama that is open to grand gestures and dramatic stylisation. We certainly get that in the 2025 Salzburg Festival production directed by Ulrich Rasche.

In fact it's an ultra-stylised production that has little of naturalism, much less historical accuracy. The stage bears two horizontally tilted spinning circular lightbox discs, each with a counter rotating centre, with no other props of any kind other than a third vertically tilted disc for lighting and occasionally projecting moody cinematic black and white closeups. The queens at the centre of the drama stand on each of the two horizontal discs, pacing against the rotation in stylised movements, Elizabeth and her court all dressed in black clothing, while on Mary Stuart's side they all dress in glowing white.

With its minimalist sets, bold swathes of lighting and stylised movements it's somewhat Robert Wilson like, but the gestures here are more operatic, slightly exaggerated, the intent different. There is scarcely a moment in the opera when they aren't pacing slowly, methodically, deliberately. It's perhaps an attempt to reflect determination of purpose, or you can the figures on a wheel of fate, where, as Elizabeth notes at one point on reading Mary's letter of supplication "Al ruota della fortuna tant’orgoglio impallida” ("On the wheel of fortune, even pride disappears"). Personal feelings and choices are not wholly determined by fate, but there seems to be some effort made to reflect their inner impulses in the male figures that pace the stage alongside Mary and Elizabeth. They aren't merely courtiers, not even chorus (the chorus remains off-stage), but as dancers (from SEAD, the Salzburg Experimental Academy of Dance) making minimal movements and pacing perhaps in some way extensions of their emotional state.

There isn't exactly much in terms of real dramatic action in the first Act anyway to necessitate anything more in the way of props or movement. Essentially Mary, Queen of Scots, having been imprisoned for an attempt to overthrow Elizabeth and make her claim for the throne, sends the queen a letter via Talbot to the Count of Leicester asking for a meeting. Elizabeth contrives to bring this about during a royal hunt on the grounds where Mary is imprisoned, where emotions run high and verbal assaults are unleashed. It's all characters in deep personal conflict with their duty to the court and their own personal desires, with Leicester caught up between them. It's not much to go on, but Donizetti makes something great of it with huge dramatic swirls of orchestration that captures the personal torment and conflicted emotions of the characters. Even the jaunty rhythms seem to capture the furious beating of hearts. This staging doesn't try to make anything more of it than finding a way to express that on a physical level, personifying and bringing to the surface all the underlying explosiveness of the encounter.

Kate Lindsey as Elizabeth and Bekhzod Davronov as Leicester go a long way to bringing that circumstance to a head, Lindsey striding imperiously, extending hand gestures forbidding approach or entreaty, her furious glances towards Leicester and powered delivery alone capable of striking anyone down. If the white robed soprano is going to win hearts and minds over the black costumed mezzo-soprano in this quasi-historical situation she's got a real battle on her hands, but you wouldn't rule it out with Lisette Oropesa as Mary. Which of course is really what Maria Stuarda is all about. As I suggested earlier, battling opera divas is not much more interesting than battling jealous royals (of any era), but Donizetti's musical development and pacing has you gripped, not least because you know the Act descends into bitter recrimination and accusation that results in one of the most famous insults in all opera. As Mary delivers the killer punchline ‘Vil bastarda', even I felt trepidation at how Kate Lindsey's Elizabeth was going to take it.

Not terribly well obviously, history at least recording Mary's fate on the executioner's block, but Donzetti's intention is rightly to focus on depicting this as pure operatic entertainment and that is exactly what we get here from the fine singing and the musical direction of Antonello Manacorda, leading up to that showstopping confrontation and its delivery as a sextet. Yes, it's the centrepiece of a great work, a thrilling outpouring of a fictional dramatisation of naked anger that you could not imagine playing out this this way in reality in private or in public (yes, that's sarcasm), but it's the masterful way it is played out in Donizetti's Maria Stuarda and in the effective staging here that reveals it for the brilliant work it is.

The second Act has much to deliver as well, even though it's just a long build-up to the inevitable execution. And even though there is again little to differentiate the dramatic stage presentation and lack of props established in the first Act, the production (and singing of course) still manages to draw all the internal emotional intensity that underlies the scene. The wheel indeed seems just as appropriate here, the relentless march of history, the enmity and rivalry between the two queens setting them on a path towards an inevitable conclusion. It perhaps lacks the fire that was lit in the first Act, a consequence of how the drama is written rather than any flaw in the presentation, but the second Act has a compelling purposeful drive in Mary’s acceptance and in Elizabeth’s unwavering determination to carry though on her decision to execute her rival.

Despite Mary delivering the decisive blow in Act I for a standing count rather than a knockout one, personally I thought Kate Lindsey was winning this first round on points. (No, I'm no more a fan of boxing than battling opera divas). More accustomed to seeing her in trouser roles, Kate Lindsey is now a formidable mezzo-soprano leading voice, her delivery - under difficult stage directions where she never stops pacing - powerful and controlled, bringing real depth to the character despite all the stylisation of movement. Lisette Oropesa however commands the audience's sympathy for Mary in the Second Act, delivering all the passion of the prayer (preghiera) and aria del supplizio ('D'un cor che muore reca il perdono'), ensuring that both women have the opportunity to show the challenges of their respective political and personal positions, in dramatic terms at least, if not in terms of historical reality. There were superb performances also here from Bekhzod Davronov as Leicester and Aleksei Kulagin as Talbot, and from Thomas Lehman and Nino Gotoshia in supporting roles as Cecil and Anna.

External links: Salzburger Festspiele

Handel - Giulio Cesare in Egitto (Salzburg, 2025)

George Frideric Handel - Giulio Cesare in Egitto

Salzburger Festspiele, 2025

Emmanuelle Haïm, Dmitri Tcherniakov, Christophe Dumaux, Olga Kulchynska, Lucile Richardot, Federico Fiorio, Yuriy Mynenko, Andrei Zhilikhovsky, Jake Ingbar, Robert Raso

3Sat Livestream - August 2025

Dmitri Tcherniakov's direction of the new 2025 Salzburg production of Giulio Cesare in Egitto appears to be drenched in irony. Perhaps not surprisingly, as the director rarely takes opera libretti at face value, particularly when the truth of human nature that they seek to present can often be obscured by poetic declamation and sweet music. That is no impediment to Handel, who composed some of his finest music and managed to get to the heart of the complex relationships between people in love and in war, but inevitably we have a different attitude towards modern warfare and dictators now and the impact their actions have on ordinary people. It is necessary - particularly in our current times - to acknowledge that and get it across if you want Handel's opera to say something meaningful about today rather than being an operatic museum piece.

Tcherniakov, as a Russian born director, has addressed such issues before and met them head-on in what would have otherwise been a problematic production of Prokofiev's War and Peace being staged in Munich while Russia was attacking Ukraine not too far away. Handel's Giulio Cesare in Egitto of course needs no such translation, the composer in his third opera making the complicated situation of Caesar and Pompey's war in Egypt involving Ptolemy and his sister Cleopatra perfectly clear. All the hidden sentiments, rivalry, lusts and cruelties are exposed or at least hinted at, but there is a danger that dated but nonetheless heartfelt expressions such as Ptolemy describing Caesar in terms like "This perfidious, unworthy miscreant" might lack the necessary weight behind them that the situation demands. 

The war between Caesar and Pompey might be over, but the 'fall-out' from their power struggle remains, and Tcherniakov chooses to present that in terms of the aftermath of a nuclear holocaust. If there is an irony in that situation, it's a grim one, rendering the participants pathetic figures fighting over a wasteland. Whether you think that's appropriate for what happened in 45 BC or even whether it's relevant to the time of the original composition in 1724, it certainly hammers home the potential endgame of what is being played out on the global scene today. All the main players have been evacuated to a network of underground bunkers (the ordinary citizens presumably left to fend for themselves above ground), their opening praise to Caesar's accomplishments striking that first note of irony. As Cesare, Cleopatra and Tolomeo all strike airs singing airs, the others seem to have little time for their self-delusions; the reality of Pompey's death, Caesar's ambition and Cleopatra's self importance having little truck with the others, not least the grieving Cornelia, the vengeful Sesto and the self-serving Achilla.

The set design and directorial characterisation gets to the heart of the contradiction of Giulio Cesare in Egitto. There is a bloody and violent war going on, there is a struggle for power, a battle of egos, a struggle for dominance, all filled with anger, betrayal and plotting. There is also a measure of some kind of greatness and beauty here with sentiments praising fidelity, beauty, love and genuine human feeling. Handel reconciles those opposing but complementary forces in his music. It's simply a beautifully conceived and composed opera, but of course that is hard to view in the same way several hundred years later, several millennia after the original figures appeared on the world stage, particularly when we are likely to have a different view of how historical events played out in opera compare to real life as we know it. Still, the opera stage is no place for 'real life'; the challenge rather is to make it better and truer to life, if you think such a thing is possible. Handel proves that it is, and the director has to use that key resource to his advantage.

Aside from his great work with Russian opera (outstanding with Rimsky-Korsakov, Shostakovitch, Borodin, Prokofiev), I'm not convinced that Tcherniakov has a similar feeling for western operas, taking more of a combative approach, breaking them down, stripping them of mannerisms and adornments, viewing them in terms of middle-class psychodramas, turning them around and turning them on the bourgeois western audience who frequently reward the production team with boos for their trouble. A simplistic analysis of Tcherniakov's intent maybe, but although it can sometimes detract from the deeper purpose of the works, his approach still produces interesting results. It certainly worked when Tcherniakov last worked side-by-side with musical director Emmanuelle Haïm on the Gluck Iphigénie en Aulide/Iphigénie en Tauride diptych for Aix-en-Provence last year. Like that production, I don't think Tcherniakov's approach subverts Handel's vision or detracts from the beauty of the work, but I don't think he really adds anything to it either or fully translates it for a modern audience.

Baroque often needs a little more dramatic inventiveness and Tcherniakov's bunker setting really just closes it in. An example of his approach is in Act II, Scene III which the original libretti describes as "Cornelia, con piccola zappa nelle mani, che vien coltivando i fiori" ("Cornelia, in the garden of the seraglio with a small hoe in her hand cultivating flowers"). Here Cornelia sings 'Deh. Piangete, oh mesti lumi, già per voi non v'è più speme' on a mattress where her son Sesto has been trussed up and dumped at her feet as if dead. Unquestionably Tchernaikov's version is a more dramatic alignment with the sentiments expressed by Cornelia, but it's the aria itself and the person singing it that expresses the horror of the situation and that's done here by Lucile Richardot (a baroque specialist, she may not be an ideal Cornelia but she has an interesting expressive dramatic harshness here that suits the character). Tolomeo’s attempted rape in the subsequent aria 'Sì, spietata, il tuo rigore…' does indeed also reflect the intent of the aria, and gives the resultant fury of Sesto justification, so Tcherniakov knows exactly how to draw the most out of the scene (and perhaps taking it even further than necessary into suggestions of an incestuous nature). That's the general approach taken elsewhere here.

For Scene VII in this Act likewise, Tcherniakov translates Cleopatra’s 'Venere bella' from a "pleasure garden" to Caesar’s bed (or mattress here), which again is realistic and much less "flowery". Each scene is balanced to strike a good balance between realistic behaviour and the operatic flourishes, the singers playing with great intensity. Like his work on War and Peace, Tcherniakov manages to do this by tapping into the fragile state of madness that reflects the current political climate and reflect it on the stage without foolishly trying to represent it with explicit references. Despite a few shock interruptions however and the onstage attempted assassination of Caesar, the grey oppressiveness of the bunker situation is unable to compensate for the otherwise inertness of dramatic action. Since the opera is largely characterised by declamatory arias, ariosos and recitative however perhaps I'm expecting too much.

But again, I stress, what can't be denied as hugely effective is the beautiful musical and lyrical content that Handel has arranged. Above everything it's superbly played under the musical direction of Emmanuelle Haïm and in the wonderfully cast and well directed acting of the singers, all of which makes it a gripping and engaging Giulio Cesare. It's impossible to single out any of the cast as more deserving of praise, but evidently the key roles are all impressive. There's the vulnerability and charm of Olga Kulchynska's Cleopatra seeking love and alliance; the lustful imperiousness nobility of Christophe Dumaux's Cesare; the inner strength and dignity with which Lucile Richardot's Cornelia endures her torment and grief; the wonderfully sneery arrogance and casual cruelty of Yuriy Mynenko's floppy haired public schoolboy Tolomeo. Even the secondary roles of Andrei Zhilikhovsky's Achilla and Federico Fiorio's particularly excitable and impetuous Sesto are exceptionally good  with individual interpretations that contrast and complement each other. The roles of Nireno and Curio are necessarily reduced here, but also sung well by Jake Ingbar and Robert Raso. You would of course expect this high standard at Salzburg, and unquestionably this is opera performance and interpretation of the highest order.

External links: Salzburger Festspiele

Charpentier - Louise (Aix-en-Provence, 2025)

Gustave Charpentier - Louise

Festival d'Aix-en-Provence

Giacomo Sagripanti, Christof Loy, Elsa Dreisig, Adam Smith, Nicolas Courjal, Sophie Koch, Marianne Croux, Annick Massis, Grégoire Mour, Carol Garcia, Karolina Bengtsson, Marie-Thérèse Keller, Julie Pasturaud, Marion Vergez-Pascal, Marion Lebègue, Jennifer Courcier. Céleste Pinel, Frédéric Caton, Filipp Varik, Alexander de Jong

La Scène Numérique du Festival d'Aix-en-Provence, 11th July 2025

When you look through any older books written about the history of opera, Gustave Charpentier's Louise is often referred to as one of the standards of the repertoire. Those days are long past and in all my time viewing opera, I don't recall an opportunity to have actually seen it performed. In its day, composed in 1900, it did indeed cause a scandal in France when it was presented at the Opéra-Comique with its bold depiction of female desire and rebellion against family, but that might be considered mild by today's standards and indeed it was out-played in that respect by Richard Strauss's Salome in 1905. Louise fell out of fashion and disappeared with many of the French works of this period by the likes of Massenet and Gounod, becoming the kind of works nostalgically revived usually only - again - at the current Opéra Comique in Paris.

Musically and in terms of its subject rather than chronologically sitting somewhere between Manon (1884) and La Bohème (1895) and maybe even an extension beyond both of them, Louise seems an odd choice for revival at the Aix-en-Provence Festival, but Christof Loy is the kind of director well equipped to examine such a work deep beneath the surface. He has an affinity for strong female characters in opera who find themselves condemned for seeking liberation from the oppression of social mores and conventions (Salome, Francesca da Rimini, Das Wunder der Heliane, Euryanthe, Jenůfa). While Louise may not measure up to some of those works in reputation, Loy's production makes you question why it has been neglected for so long, but without a director with that kind of clear vision and modern outlook, you can also understand why.

The re-location of the setting of the opera from the Belle Époque Paris to a mental institution department of a hospital in a more recent period however does not exactly strike you as a terribly original idea - off the top of my head I can recall the 2017 Vienna Parsifal directed by Alvis Hermanis and of course, there is Stefan Herheim's version of La Bohème that takes it to another extreme altogether - but it can be an effective distancing technique to cut through any fake operatic glamour that might distract from the reality of the circumstances. And Louise does need - and merits - a more rigorous approach. In the first act Louise sees herself as a Sleeping Beauty dreaming of her Prince, while the boy next door Julien sees her as his Ophelia. These happy scenes - as chaste as they are, relying on stolen glances - are of course a delusion, since Louise has strict parents who keep a tight rein on the young woman. But Charpentier's music and the libretto hint that there is more than that suggested in this situation.

Louise turns away from this restrictive hold on her life and does indeed run away to Paris, seeking to live an independent life and choose who to love. It's not just a dream for Louise, but many young women during this period living in the provinces. "A hellish life here" ("Notre vie d’enfer”), comments one father of three daughters, "Who can blame them for seeking paradise out there?"). Paris of course is that dream, but life there is difficult for Louise, who finds that it is not any easier there for a young woman seeking to live independently. The way that her dreams and illusions are shattered however suggests that the damage is inflicted not just by the sheltered life enforced by her parents, but that there is an element of abuse hinted at in their intimidating behaviour in the original opera that Loy is keen to draw out and make explicit. And apply in a wider context.

In the waiting room of the psychiatric hospital, the vision of Julien is just a warm memory, an allegorical illusion for the promise of the paradise of Paris, and that indeed is the reality that Charpentier depicts. Accompanied by her mother - wonderfully portrayed by Sophie Koch, a great role for her - she is not just over-protective, but overpowering and intimidating. Loy sees this oppressiveness as having a detrimental psychological impact on the young woman. As does her relationship with her father, not just cossetting her like a child, but fondling and caressing in an inappropriate and troubling way. The father is something of a bohemian, believing that money doesn't bring happiness and he thinks that they should all be content with their lot as a close family. You suspect the mother's objection to Julien is that the young man interested in her daughter too closely resembles her husband.

Loy pursues the inevitable consequence of this family background, combining it with the sinister setting of the psychiatric hospital in a way that changes the whole tone of the work, allowing for no real romantic scenes other than those in Louise's head. In this setting, Louise's fate becomes tied to that of Mimi in Henry Murger's original novel Scènes de la vie de Bohème, where the young woman is actually institutionalised - something skipped over in Puccini's opera adaptation. Herheim managed to introduce this stark reality in his adaptation of that opera and Loy likewise chops up the timeline to highlight the injustice and inequality of women and the fate that many would have been subjected to. It lets you know right from the start that there is going to be no happy ending here.

The Paris street scenes then all take on a hallucinatory quality, the patients, doctors and hospital employees taking the roles of the disillusioned lives on the street. The short Act II (presumably shortened by Loy as cuts have been employed for this production) offers some light relief, but it's also brief and carries this darker undercurrent. In the original Louise is in Paris, her colleagues in a stitching factory dreaming of love and suspecting that she has a lover. They sing of the romance of "the voice of Paris". In Loy's version, they are all hospital cleaners (quite a lot for a fairly rundown looking institution) and Louise imagines them making her wedding dress while she is serenaded by a street singer, Julien below the window. The chorus soon turns to threatening as they gang up on her and make fun of her situation.

Louise's continued idealisation of love and freedom in Paris, escaping from her abusive home life, is in reality short-lived as her father’s illness allows her parents to appeal for her return and, true to form, even blame her running away as the reason for his illness. Her return to the place of unhappiness takes on an almost unbearable intensity in Loy’s suggestion of the extent and nature of the abuse, but again it does seem to be a justifiable response to what appears to be hinted at in the original work. Pelléas et Mélisande comes to mind, the father - an absolutely brilliant performance by Nicolas Courjal - sounding Golaud-like with his imprecations to his "p’tite enfant". Louise premiered in 1900, two years before Pelléas et Mélisande, but it seems to have tapped into the same undercurrents, finding another elliptical way of expressing them. The final act and fate of the young woman is almost devastating in the intensity of the emotions and the naturalistic treatment employed here.

Although Loy has found a serious line to follow through the work, you do get the impression that otherwise there might not be a great deal to the opera and that any serious intent would get lost in the conventionality of the operatic arrangements. Nonetheless, musically it's rich and beautifully scored, with a distinct French character; Ravel comes to mind, Massenet of course and, as mentioned, even a little Debussy (but I have to say almost everything that has a shimmery quality and a French spoken rhythm reminds me of Pelléas et Mélisande). For the sake of a modern revival and tighter focus, conductor Giacomo Sagripanti seems to accept that some cuts are necessary, stating that its length is part of the weakness of the opera which tries to take in too much. Do we lose out on the colour of the work? I don't think so. Even with cuts, there is an extravagance still there in the sentiments, the choral pieces and the wild romanticism; the production just puts a different shade on it, one that is suggested to a large extent by the nature of the subject, the female perspective of romantic illusion being crushed by reality.

A lot rides on Elsa Dreisig as Louise and of course she is outstanding, both in her singing and acting. Louise even seems somewhat oppressed vocally in first two acts, but literally finds her voice in Act III, and in that original controversial expression of female sexual pleasure. Loy uses that same sense of oppression and liberation to a slightly different purpose of course, presenting an interesting modern insight into the character, although it's clear that the darker intent is there to a large extent in the actual composition. Done this way, as with Herheim, does force you to look more critically beneath the surface of the glittery first half of the work and see that it is not all lovely and romantic being a young woman running away from abusive parents and finding it difficult to live a life as an independent woman on the streets of Paris. "Cité de joie! cité d'amour!… Protège tes enfants!" ("City of joy, city of love... Protect your children").

The character of Julien might suffer from such a reworking, becoming an ideal, an illusory dream of love and romance, but Adam Smith's singing is superb and makes a great impression. To Louise's claim that "It's Paradise" and "It's a fairy dream”, his character repeatedly tells her that "No, it's life", trying to keep the young woman grounded in the real world that would be normal for anyone except someone who has not been used to such love and acceptance. With those terrific performances from Sophie Koch and Nicolas Courjal distorting that picture as her oppressive parents, Christof Loy succeeds in bringing into the present Charpentier's attempt to introduce naturalism into opera as a "roman musical", a musical novel. It's not a profound work; it has limited drama; but it has a firm basis in reality and in the psychology that still can hold true for many young women today.

External links: ARTE Concert, Festival d'Aix-en-Provence, La Scène Numérique du Festival d'Aix-en-Provence

Walshe - MARS (Dublin, 2025)

Jennifer Walshe - MARS

Irish National Opera, 2025

Elaine Kelly, Tom Creed, Jennifer Walshe, Nina Guo, Jade Phoenix, Sarah Richmond, Doreen Curran

Abbey Theatre, Dublin - 7th August 2025

It's high time that we had a full-length opera from Jennifer Walshe, internationally recognised as one of Ireland's most original contemporary musicians and performers. Working primarily with the voice, it had to be a natural progression and there were signs of her heading in that direction with her short work Libris Solar (2020) for Irish National Opera's 20 Shots of Opera and Ireland: A Dataset (2020), both presented during the COVID lockdown. Describing the latter piece as a 'radiophonic play', it was however a total musical-theatrical experience, albeit one unable to be performed before a live audience; an opera in all but name. It may not have been conventional but nothing Walshe does is conventional. MARS, her new work for Irish National Opera, employs many of the same techniques used in Ireland: A Dataset, taking a theme, exploring it from a number of angles rather than as a linear plot, and of course providing the usual injection of humour and not taking things too seriously.

Finding her voice, so to speak, at a time when there are serious wider contemporary issues to consider, the composer has worked with writer Mark O'Connell to develop a libretto for an opera on a more global scale, or perhaps one even more expansive that that. MARS takes us beyond the confines of the planet with a crew of four women astronauts in order to consider the petty problems of the world from a distance, only to find that we bring our petty problems with us. And not just the 'petty problems' but the big ones that we can see troubling us in the present day. If you think there is danger in the power being placed in the hands of a small group of wealthy individuals with authoritarian leanings and their own space programmes, imagine what will happen when other planets come within reaching distance...

As far as it concerns the four women on the Buckminster on a nine month journey to Mars, the future is under new ownership, and that includes ownership of the crew just as they are about to touch down to explore the planet for underground water supplies to support the colony that has already been established on the planet. The company or international consortium that was financing the mission have been taken over by a corporation owned by 'tech bro' Axel Parchment, who has some 'innovative' ideas for developing and expanding the colony. Sally, Valentina, Judith and Svetlana have revised orders and a new mission; Mars needs women. But, in-between sending AI assisted messages and videos back home to raise the morale and gain new recruits, the crew make an important discovery that may enable them to take control (and control over their own bodies) back again.

The situation as outlined would seem to present the opportunity for some thoughtful contemplation on the essence of humanity, on the need to explore, stretch the boundaries of what we consider to be the human experience to incorporate new developments in technology and society; and to consider what to do when things go wrong, because things always go wrong. And indeed it does in MARS and Walshe does take a realistic response to those questions, but perhaps not initially in the way you might expect; like how these four adventurers react to the critical error that occurs when the USB drive containing the complete Criterion Collection set of movies is left behind and all they have is Shrek 3 and Seasons 3 to 6 of The Housewives of Beverley Hills to get them through the isolation. It can't get much worse than that surely?

It would be a mistake to take it all too seriously, but it's more than just a joke. All too much of what happens here is recognisable in the almost unrecognisable world we are waking up to every morning, with developments in technology and AI advancing rapidly every day, distorting our familiar sense of reality, with wealthy individuals accruing more money, power and influence and exerting that control through populist appeal and dubious libertarian ideologies. Others might take a more conventional path through the challenges that face an all-woman space crew on a future expedition to Mars given this current direction of travel, but this is Jennifer Walshe and she takes the Jennifer Walshe way. Which is to say that the work is made up of a series of sketches and routines, playful in nature but with a little edge of satire.

There are some spoken work dialogues, some funny episodes, but mainly a lot of playing around with the opportunities suggested by the out of familiar world setting. Aside from the template established in Ireland: A Dataset, some sequences reminded me of Glass and Wilson's Einstein on the Beach, just simply revelling in the purity of the musical-theatrical situation with no concern of 'advancing the plot', emulating floating in zero gravity, running through wordless vocalisations and blending them with electronic sounds that also bring to mind Stockhausen's Licht, with a lament on a planetary exploration that seems to echo Ligeti's Atmosphères from 2001: A Space Odyssey. All of this is of course filtered through Walshe's sense of anarchic humour, with a few mordant swipes at popular culture and populist politics.

What is abundantly evident, even in the least serious of moments, is that Walshe has explored everything related to Mars exploration and even incorporates the sounds of space in the instrumentation through the use of synthesisers, in addition to more conventional instruments making unconventional sounds. Co-directed between Tom Creed and Walshe herself, the stage production - all credit to the incredible team that pulled this together - does exactly the same and it is genuinely groundbreaking in how the medium is also the message. Walshe has taken advantage of AI before and used it in Ireland: A Dataset, but the way the music, the sounds, the use of videos, live hand-held cameras, live distortion of voices are not just used for satire and parody, but to emphasise how much technology can be used and messages distorted. There is a lot going on and some of it just flashes by, but it all works alongside the plot and the content, an integral and equal part of the conception of the piece.

Which not to say that the human element of the work is relegated by the use of technology, otherwise that would negate the point of the work. Nina Guo, Jade Phoenix, Sarah Richmond and Doreen Curran are just superb, totally engaging in all-round performances that require acting, timing, collaboration and - despite necessarily being microphoned for mixing with the orchestra - all are experienced and brilliant opera singers that have their range fully put to the test. Those moments are used well and to terrific effect. Following its opening at Galway International Arts Festival in July and three sell-out performances at the Abbey Theatre in Dublin, don't let anyone say there isn't an appetite for challenging contemporary opera and thankfully the INO seasons are always tremendously rich and varied, including contemporary Irish works, baroque opera, popular favourites and the odd rarity.

I'll be honest and say that despite the considerable efforts that have gone into the composition and marrying it to an inventive integrated production design, MARS is very entertaining and very much of the moment, but it doesn't feel like a substantial piece. Personally, I would have preferred if Walshe had just fully indulged the scenes in her random episodic fashion and left any conclusions to be drawn without the need (by writer Mark O'Connell?) to provide a conventional plot resolution, but maybe that's just me. MARS unquestionably has many other angles that are wholly Jennifer Walshe and couldn't be anyone else, and we can't ask for more than that. And perhaps there is more to the work than I'm giving her credit for; the world is indeed becoming increasingly absurd, heading into an unknown that is genuinely frightening, and MARS offers some hope that we can navigate our way through it.

External links: Irish National Opera, Jennifer Walshe on MARS in the Guardian

Wagner - Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg (Bayreuth, 2025)

Richard Wagner - Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg

Bayreuther Festspiele, 2025

Daniele Gatti, Matthias Davids, Georg Zeppenfeld, Michael Spyres, Matthias Stier, Christina Nilsson, Christa Mayer, Michael Nagy, Jongmin Park, Martin Koch, Werner Van Mechelen, Jordan Shanahan, Daniel Jenz, Matthew Newlin, Gideon Poppe, Alexander Grassauer, Tijl Faveyts, Patrick Zielke, Tobias Kehrer

BR-Klassik Livestream - 25th July 2025

Matthias Davids' production doesn't look like any other production of Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg you might have seen. We expect that at Bayreuth of course, but we are definitely far removed these days from the more adventurous Meistersingers of Bayreuth in the recent past. Katharina Wagner's own controversial 2008 production was keen to genuinely tear down any familiar ground and truly put the work of German Art to the test just as Hans Sachs advocates, while last production by Barrie Kosky in 2017 had great fun turning the work inside out and putting Wagner on trial for antisemitism. Both were very much testing of Wagner's greatest expression of the power of art, the freedom of the artist and the artist as a revolutionary, as much in their conception as their adherence to the underlying intent of the work. Davids' view on Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg to see it as a paean to peace, love and understanding is not unreasonable and perhaps reflects our needs and desires in these troubled times, but it is a rather more limiting viewpoint on a work that contains so much more.

Better known as a director of musicals, Matthias Davids' lighter approach places emphasis on making the work look bright, colourful and comic. Those aren't characteristics that one typically associates with Wagner but Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg is very much the exception to the typical Wagner music drama with its heavy emphasis on mythology. It's ambitiously expansive in its warmth, its humour, its insightfulness on a wider range of human experience and is more generously optimistic in its outlook. That's a lot to take in and consider, but it would be a mistake to emphasise the comedy and the romance to the exclusion of the opera's undercurrents of melancholy towards change and ...well, threats from 'outside'. I don't think Davids ignores this as much chooses to focus on the colour and setting and let Wagner's music fill in the rest. Wagner's miraculous music is more than capable of providing that with Daniele Gatti in the pit and a strong cast assembled for this production, but the production design and stage choreography does feel like a bit of a mess and distract from engaging with any deeper meaning in the work.

The best thing I can say about the first Act of the new Bayreuth Meistersinger is that it lays out the original premise of the opera clearly. It's not without a distinctive look and feel of its own with its long staircase up to St Catherine's Church in Nuremberg for the opening scene, the set revolving to a kind of lecture theatre setting for the marking of Walther von Stolzing’s first efforts at becoming a mastersinger. The street scenes for Act II look bewilderingly 'normal' as well, or not so much normal as picture book Nuremberg, an idealised non-period specific operatic setting the looks to tradition but modernises it to look bright and colourful. The buildings all look like the Keramikhäuser you find in German Christmas markets, or since this has a wooden appearance, more like a Christmas manger scene which kind of jars, in my mind anyway, with this being Midsummer's Eve.

The first half of Act II however is at least beautifully played, much more sensitively performed than Act I, but probably only because Wagner scored it with great warmth, nostalgia and human insight. Not so much in the acting, which is all broad gestures turning into slapstick inevitably by the end of the second Act. The director really hasn't got a handle on the nature of the people and the relationships between them as Wagner depicts them, or at least I never felt like these were real people with inner lives. It feels superficial, but Wagner's music soars under Daniele Gatti and has real heart and emotion behind it. It's not enough to carry the latter part of this act, and Beckmesser's wooing of Lena just feels agonising. It's surely impossible for this scene to be anything less than entertaining, but here it just drags with a lack of any kind of imagination or insight. The closing choral scene is chaotic, as it is supposed to be, but really shouldn't be this much of a mess.

Hans Sachs' workshop at the start of Act III brings a welcome change of tone; the spare set, the simplicity of the widower's home a wooden low wall circle, the loneliness of it all working with the melancholic tone. Georg Zeppenfeld can do deep melancholy well (not so great with humour), but his gestures remain broad. He is perhaps not everyone's ideal Hans Sachs, but his singing nonetheless carries the beauty and intent of this role in this scene. For me, these scenes with Eva and with Walther are the heart and soul of the work: they are filled with meaning, with the experience of life, looking back and looking forward and trying to come to terms with it all. Musically it's a marvel, the crowning achievement of Wagner's longstanding efforts to capture the essence of the German spirit through art, mythology and storytelling, but here without the usual grandiosity. He even quotes Tristan und Isolde (composed during the writing of Meistersinger), but instead of the despair of King Marke, Wagner's Sachs is inspired by or comforted by the optimism of youth and the new spirit of love in Stolzing, Eva, David and Lena. These scenes are beautiful and the best part of this new production at Bayreuth, as it ties in well with the director's approach and vision for the opera as a whole.

Of course it's nothing without the quality of the Prize song to prove it, and Michael Spyres brings out the full beauty of his Liebestraum. If Zeppenfeld's reactions of amazement and wonder at the knight's performance look a little exaggerated, you can nonetheless well understand it when you hear Spyres sing it like this. Although the poetry strikes me as rather flowery - literally - it still casts a spell of enchantment that is irresistible. It has to be believed that this song is near miraculous and Wagner composed it to have just that impact, more beautiful here in its moment of spontaneous creation than in the unnecessary spectacle of the final act performance - which of course Walther tries his best to reject. It can be just as wonderful at the conclusion, but it's not here and it's not because Walther and Eva do actually reject the nationalistic sentiments expressed by Sachs, but there are other issues with the staging of the scene that undermine it somewhat. Thankfully we have this 'demo' version before it becomes 'overproduced'.

The final scene suits the occasion to an extent, even if it is not particularly tasteful. The scene is set for a song contest in the style of Search for a Star, a regional Nuremberg heat of 'Germany’s Got Talent' or whatever the latest TV show incarnation of X-Factor is currently popular. It is indeed a popular scene involving the whole community so it is not inappropriate, even with a huge colourful inflatable cow canopy and bales of hay. Within that the concluding scenes play out in a fine if unexceptional manner and it's interesting that the decision to reject being the new idol of holy German Art is instigated or supported by Eva who whisks Walther off to seek live the lives they want to live.

For all my misgivings about the production, the scene was a moving one and, aside from the mixed response to the production team at the curtain call, the premiere performance of the new production appears to have been appreciated by the Bayreuth audience. I can't say it doesn't meet the intent of the work and do it justice, just that it felt unadventurous in not really interrogating the work, meaning we had some very dull passages, particularly in the first Act.

Lifeless scenes in the first half aside, musically and in terms of the singing performances this was indeed a very enjoyable production that took on a momentum of its own and made this just about a worthwhile experience. Aside from the capable performance of Georg Zeppenfeld and Michael Spyres' wonderfully sung Walter von Stolzing, the other performances all had much to admire. Michael Nagy sang well as Beckmesser, but deserved better than the role being reduced to little more than a sidekick for comic slapstick. Christina Nilsson's role debut as Eva was excellent. If she seemed occasionally overawed, that could also be attributed to her character's position in the work. She led the quintet in Act III beautifully. Matthias Stier made a strong impression as David and the reliable Christa Mayer was a fine Magdalena. Jongmin Park was a steadfast Pogner, and indeed all the Mastersinger roles (in their tea cosy helmets) were well defined and sung. The lightness of touch and warmth that Matthias Davids was aiming to achieve was certainly there in Daniele Gatti's conducting of the warm, luscious score, but somehow it never seemed to gel with any sense of genuine warmth and humanity reflected on the stage.

External links: BR-Klassik, Bayreuther Festspiele