Wagner - Die Walküre (London, 2018)

Wagner - Die Walküre

Royal Opera House, London - 2018

Antonio Pappano, Keith Warner, Stuart Skelton, Emily Magee, Ain Anger, John Lundgren, Nina Stemme, Sarah Connolly, Lise Davidson

Opus Arte - Blu-ray

In contrast to Das Rheingold, which has a more obvious dramatic narrative and a number of wonderful theatrical set pieces, Die Walküre is much more contemplative as a standalone work, a conflict between the opposing forces that have been set in motion during the first day Prelude. Musically however and in terms of overall importance to the development of any Der Ring des Niebelungen (as well as the sheer exhilaration of any performance of Ride of the Valkyrie) it's Die Walküre that counts. Likewise if you are going to give a representative part of a the tetraology a DVD release, and Keith Warner's not greatly loved Royal Opera House Ring cycle first seen back in 2006 doesn't look likely to be getting a full release on DVD, this is the one you want to see. So how does Warner's Die Walküre stand up on its own terms?

Well in most respects it's a perfectly serviceable production but as is often the case with Die Walküre, its chances of a successful revival are reliant to a large extent on the strength of the casting. It's not that a strong concept and direction aren't important but the nature of this work demands singers who can bring the kind of intense dramatic conviction that this opera needs. This particular recording has a superlative cast of experienced Wagnerians and it gets off to an impressive set with its cast for Act I where Stuart Skelton is the standout, a Siegmund  of heroic magnificence. Ain Anger as Hunding and Emily Magee aren't quite at the same level but both are resolute and steady. Directing them however, Warner ensures that there's no standing around or histrionics, they incarnate the nature of the characters and put everything into expression of their dilemma, making them far more three-dimensional that is usually the case, and that sets up the whole tone of what follows in the subsequent Acts.

With its long Acts and tiring monologues it might be short on conventional drama, but it's hard to imagine a more dramatic musical opening that the thundering Vorspiel to Die Walküre. In the first few impressions of this production, Warner attempts to get across a sense of all that darkness of a world left in turmoil due to the weakening influence of the gods, but the production design also has the benefit of this being a place outside of time. The depiction of Hunding's lodge is semi-abstract then, expressionistic and dark, a box within a spiral. Sieglinde is seen hovering nervously in the fearful captivity of her husband, bewildered by the arrival of a stranger in exhaustion and distress. Roots and branches twist through the furnishings in the room, Nothung embedded in a smouldering beam.

Act II uses much of the same set with only the box room removed to establish a connection and reveal a shattered rundown Valhalla. It's difficult to make Act II dramatically engaging but the singing and musical performance alone are more than enough to make this compelling. Warner matches the highs and lows in the actions and movements, leaving it to the simmering rumble of the music to hold you in the grip of the predicament of Fricka, Wotan and Brünnhilde. Siegmund and Sieglinde's reappearance using a red rope that I presume is related to the Norn's Cord of Destiny, stumble into the room where Brünnhilde has just learned the history of Das Rheingold, the fate of the brother and sister tied up with the gods and their inevitable downfall.

Keith Warner manages to play Act II with the same attention to characterisation and motivation, showing more than just a bitter domestic dispute between an arrogant god who is henpecked and reduced down to size by a jealous and vengeful wife. There is a fire to their relationship that still burns even in such moments as this current crisis, and you can see the balance of power play out on a sexual level between them. It makes them more than just ciphers and suggests that their dispute is more than just a domestic quarrel, but that deeper forces drive their words and actions. John Lundgren and Sarah Connolly give a charged account of what can otherwise be a very dry scene in dramatic terms, Pappano musically holding the tension throughout. Only Nina Stemme disappoints somewhat, not living up to the expectations you might have for her Brünnhilde.

Act III's opening Ride of the Valkyrie however is disappointingly underwhelming as far as Warner's staging goes, the Valkyrie looking like Shakespearean Weird Sisters holding horse skulls, but musically at least it certainly packs a punch under Antonio Pappano and ROH orchestra, and it helps too when you have Lise Davidsen among the number as Ortlinde. Elsewhere in the third Act there's impact aplenty where there needs to be, Lundgren's Wotan a fearsome presence, the Valkyrie and Brünnhilde credibly cowering before his rage. But again the third Act's sheer force is all there in the performances, Nina Stemme and Emily Magee raising their game impressively, the playing and of course the music itself just phenomenal.

In terms of production design you would hope for more in Act III, but the abstract approach is consistent in its follow through, a huge wall thrown up here between Wotan and Brünnhilde and her sisters. If the major part of the Act is very dull and unimaginative as far as Valkyrie scenes go in Die Walküre, it at least gives the closing conflagration scene a little more of a spark, so to speak, in a way that closes the opera on a huge emotional high. Warner's Die Walküre is not a classic production by any means but my goodness this gets across everything that is great about this work and it sounds like it near brings the house down during the curtain call of this 2018 performance.

Whether you consider Antonio Pappano as effective conducting Wagner as he is with Puccini and Verdi in the Italian repertoire, I liked his blood and thunder interpretation here. The Vorspiel to Act I seems to collapse in on itself at the end but elsewhere he really does draw out all the beauty, lyricism and simmering emotion that is built into the highly charged scenes. The state-of-the-art High Resolution audio recording and superb mixing certainly helps hear the quality, detail and sheer glorious weight of the musical performance. I don't think I've ever heard a recording of this work with such depth and dynamic range. You can just revel luxuriously in the sound world of Wagner here, particularly in the simmering eroticism buried in the Act II confrontation between Wotan and Fricka, which is just as gripping as any of the more familiar key scenes. But all the high points are emphatically hit here.

The HD presentation on the Opus Arte BD is impeccable. The image is clear and detailed, but as mentioned above it's in the High Resolution uncompressed soundtracks where the real benefit of the HD format really comes into its own, the spacious uncompressed DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 mix in particular capturing all the dynamic and detail of the performance. The English translation is also good, the subtitles making this easier to follow than the archaic language more often used without distorting the meaning in any way. The usual short features on ROH productions give a brief overview of what goes into a production like this. The booklet contains a synopsis and a good essay on the influence of Feuerbach on Wagner's Ring of the Niebelung by Barry Millington.

Links: Royal Opera House

Dean - Hamlet (Glyndebourne, 2017)

Brett Dean - Hamlet

Glyndebourne 2017

Neil Armfield, Vladimir Jurowski, Allan Clayton, Barbara Hannigan, Sarah Connolly, Rod Gilfry, John Tomlinson, Kim Begley, David Butt Philip, Jacques Imbrailo, Rupert Enticknap, Christopher Lowrey

Medici - 6th July 2017

The creation of a new opera based on 'Hamlet' is no minor event in the opera calendar and with all eyes on Glyndebourne and a streamed live performance of the new works, there must be considerable pressure to do this Shakespeare work right and make an impact. All credit to the creators and performers involved then, since Brett Dean's Hamlet proves to be a not only a very good adaptation of Shakespeare but a strong operatic drama in its own right.

The challenge with making an opera out of 'Hamlet' would I imagine be much the same as any other many attempts to adapt Shakespeare, only more so. It involves keeping the essence and tone of the work intact, while having to make drastic cuts, and 'Hamlet' is one of Shakespeare's longest, most complex and surely difficult plays to work with, involving such difficult choices even for the dramatic stage.

As with Ambroise Thomas's Hamlet, it's essential to keep key scenes and speeches, but that alone is not enough - certainly not in the case of Thomas. Brett Dean and his librettist Matthew Jocelyn however have one major advantage over most other opera adaptations of Shakespeare in that they can retain much of the original English text and the rich poetry of the original. Dean's Hamlet then is not exactly word-for-word, but often close to the original, paying particularly attention to the delivery of the play's most famous and important lines.

The other critical factor in making it work as a dramatic piece which can't be underestimated (and again something that applies equally to any performance of the stage play), is finding capable performers with the ability to breathe life and personality into the characters. With an extraordinarily strong cast that includes Allan Clayton, Barbara Hannigan, Rod Gilfry, Sarah Connolly and John Tomlinson, Glyndebourne's world premiere performances certainly have the strongest assembly of singers possible for these roles.

Allan Clayton gives it everything as Hamlet, but crucially finds that essential need to make the Prince's wilful madness sympathetic and not just morbidly obsessive or a raging madman. To do that, you also have to make Claudius and Gertrude convincing and - critically - establish those connections and contrasts of outlook in their interaction. This is something that is brought out not only through the medium of Ophelia (played with agonising sincerity and determination by the outstanding Barbara Hannigan who brings the mad scene back into modern opera in a spectacular fashion) and her father Polonious, but also by the supporting characters (in the fullest sense of supporting and character) by Horatio, by Laertes and even by Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.

Essentially then, there are no 'supporting characters' as such, as its the interaction between them all that creates a complex situation of conflicting purposes and personalities. And the Glyndebourne casts it as such with Rod Gilfry and Sarah Connolly stamping their personality all over Claudius and Gertrud with tremendous singing performances, but also with the likes of Jacques Imbrailo singing Horatio, Kim Begley as Polonious and John Tomlinson singing the ghost of Hamlet's father, one of the players and the gravedigger. All of these figures could easily be side-lined by the need to cut and condense, but it's to the credit of the opera that there is recognition that they are not just there to provide colour, but have a vital dramatic role to play in the work.

The question remains however whether Shakespeare gains anything from being adapted to the opera stage, and perhaps it never really does. The real question however is whether - again like any stage production of the play - it serves the work and can bring a certain character of its own to bear on a great work. Musically, Dean's music rarely calls attention to itself, and certainly doesn't over-assert itself over the inherent force of the drama and the language, but rather it controls mood and pacing, hinting at deeper tensions and stirring trouble, bringing some dramatic emphasis where necessary. It does well in the manner that the music and repetition can highlight certain words and phrases, overlaying them in a way that traditional theatre cannot to bring opposing views into even starker contrast.

Brett Dean's Hamlet can then be quite difficult to follow in a single viewing, even for those familiar with the play. Actually, familiarity with 'Hamlet' can even make things more difficult, since you find yourself looking for dramatic cuts and variances, looking for interpretation of familiar themes and considering how it measures up to the original. That can lead to the music not being given the same due attention for the role it plays that the singing performances receive, but together there is no question that Dean's Hamlet grips and holds attention and relates the story of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark with considerable fidelity as a good opera drama, as well as having something of its own to contribute to its telling. The finale, as good a measure of a 'Hamlet' as any other scene, is outstandingly staged and musically set. All the more for having Rosencrantz and Guildenstern die an on-stage death at this point along with almost everyone else.

The stage direction of Neil Armfield and the conducting of Vladimir Jurowski have no small part to play in the success of the endeavour. The set design is all tall panels from a rich mansion that shift and slide to reveal the darkness behind, the opera flowing seamlessly from one scene to the next. The costumes are modern-dress, the nobles wearing suits and formal dresses, the others a little shabbier, with Hamlet and Ophelia's descents into madness (whether feigned or real) reflected in the increasing disarray of their outfits. Everyone is pale pansticked white-faced. It's a thoroughly nightmarish 'Hamlet' world. Jurowski handles the complexities and lovely idiosyncrasies of the musical arrangements well, the score and the performances allowing the qualities of the libretto and the singing the fullest expression.

Links: Glyndebourne, Medici

Berg - Lulu (English National Opera. 2016)

Alban Berg - Lulu

English National Opera, 2016

Mark Wigglesworth, William Kentridge, Luc De Wit, Brenda Rae, Sarah Connolly, Michael Colvin, James Morris, Nicky Spence, Willard White, David Soar, Jeffrey Lloyd-Roberts, Clare Presland, Graeme Danby, Sarah Labiner, Rebecca de Pont Davies, Sarah Champion, Geoffrey Dolton, Joanna Dudley, Andrea Fabi

The Coliseum, London - 12th November 2016

Every time I see it, I marvel at how dense a work Lulu is and how frustrating it is to get a grasp on. It's never a question of liking or loving it - it's a work of art that lies beyond such superficial considerations. Lulu is an opera that demands engagement but at the same time keeps you at a distance. Almost by definition it's a piece whose meaning and wider application must remain elusive, since its main character herself must remain an enigma.

I can only imagine how much more difficult then it must be for the performers and directors to take on its musical challenges and at the same time draw it into something coherent and comprehensible for an audience. It must be a challenge of Ring-like proportions. Lulu is a work that leaves a lot of room for interpretation, but at the same time it defies any attempt to pin it down. Or if not so much interpretation, it demands artistic engagement. Whether on the part of the singers - particularly in the leading role - or the director, there's room to make a mark, place a personal stamp on the raw material that Berg provides.

Although it almost adds another level of complexity that for the sake of attention and focus it could well do without, William Kentridge's production for the English National Opera is an almost perfect way to approach Lulu, being neither illustrative or interpretative. Using projections of bold Indian ink sketches and splatters on a canvas of text, William Kentridge's designs address the question of art within Lulu, and in doing so they provide a new insight into the work. Lulu is not just a figure immortalised in a painting by the Artist, she is a living work of art. This is what gives Berg's opera its endless fascination at the same time as it frustrates the viewer and the director who attempts to pin it down.

The inability to pin Lulu down - she even resists attempts to give her just one name - is exactly what Kentridge brings to the production through his constantly reworked drawings, sketches and inkblots. Painted on top of blocks of newspaper or dictionary text, the illustrations are neither decorative nor illustrative of the drama, but perhaps more attuned to the music and to the art of the music. The images layer on top of one another, cutting and jumping, flipping reverses and mirror images, reflecting the impossibility of defining Lulu - the person, the opera, the concept, the idea - into one single image. Notoriously, Lulu is all things to all men; an object, the personification of men's lusts and desires who cannot possibly live up to the ideal.

In contrast to my usual experience with Lulu then, fascination with a production's attempts to define her or at least define the ideal gradually leading to frustration as the work slips away from any efforts to exert control over it, Kentridge's production had the opposite effect. Act I was the most frustrating since it didn't offer any 'vision'. The projections seemed to be little more than a series of gestures, slapdash ideas without any strong conceptual core behind them, offering no way of making the narrative any easier to follow, even if it has a distinct and attractive visual presence.

By Act II however, this constant reworking of the enigma of Lulu became mesmerising. You really do see the turning point in the reinstated 'film sequence', the moment that Lulu's ascendancy starts to decline, the moment her currency devalues and how afterwards she starts to become weary of the attentions of men, recoiling from the constant gaze, only to find that she has never had an identity of her own. Act III then becomes captivating in a way that productions using Friedrich Cerha's impressive efforts to complete the third Act of the work - the incomplete opera creating an enigma and fascination of its own - rarely achieve. The production leaves you with a sense that it has continually added to the picture of Lulu rather than taken away from her in her decline to a horrible end.

In fact, Kentridge and co-director Luc De Wit do make the fractured narrative of Berg's efforts to condense Wedekind's two 'Lulu' plays much easier to follow. Each of the characters is colourfully dressed, contrasting with the start black-and-white imagery of the projected ink illustrations. And not just colourfully dressed, but colourfully interpreted, each showing a distinct personality in character and in voice. Without the distraction of trying to work out who was who and who is married to Lulu now, the complexity of the relationship between the narrative, the production design and the difficult shifting musical landscape is actually much easier to grasp. Two silent figures of a man and a woman - dressed in black-and-white, the man wearing a newspaper head mask, the woman more Lulu-like - also add an indefinable quality of living artworks to the unspoken matters of the work. Even if if the principal character remains elusive, she is not a void.

A considerable part of the success of achieving that must lie with the singer performing the role of Lulu and Brenda Rae fulfilled the role marvellously. Aside from the technical challenges of the role, she brought an ideal tone and temperament that suited the intent of the production here. This Lulu as portrayed by Rae is neither lascivious nor hysterical, but essentially and necessarily human, as flawed and capable of misjudgment as anyone. If she is irresistible to men, it's clearly more of a projection of what the men impress on her than anything she initiates. She's more victim than vamp. Sarah Connolly is luxury casting for Countess Geschwitz and Nicky Spence made a great impression as Alwa, but there was much to admire in all of the cast; in James Morris's Dr Schön, Michael Colvin's Artist and David Soar's Athlete. With so much going on I always find it hard to take in Berg's huge complex score, but Mark Wigglesworth's conducting proved to be the unifying force for all its tones and styles, as well as for its dramatic content.

Links: English National Opera

Wagner - Die Walküre (Bayreuth, 2016)

Richard Wagner - Die Walküre

Bayreuth, 2016

Marek Janowski, Frank Castorf, Christopher Ventris, Georg Zeppenfeld, John Lundgren, Heidi Melton, Catherine Foster, Sarah Connolly, Caroline Wenborne, Dara Hobbs, Stephanie Houtzeel, Nadine Weissmann, Christiane Kohl, Mareike Morr, Wiebke Lehmkuhl, Alexandra Petersamer

Sky Arts - 27 July 2016

I often find it the case that once you've seen a concept established in Das Rheingold you wonder whether you really need to sit through another 14 hours in the three Ring operas to have the point hammered home. If you already know how the drama plays out, you can to some extent extrapolate the rest from how Das Rheingold is presented, give or take one or two points and themes that do need to be explored more deeply. You do at least have the wonder of watching those traps laid in Das Rheingold tighten their grip as events take on momentum in Die Walküre. For all its familiarity there's still much to compensate in the composition of this work, but it soon becomes clear in the Bayreuth production that Frank Castorf clearly isn't going to rely on just following through. Within the vast scope of the Ring those other ideas associated with what has been set in motion are also worth exploring outwards.

The theme that Castorf chooses to set Die Walküre is not an obvious one. It extends the Route 66 petrol station location in the USA here to a farmstead in Azerbaijan where Wotan and Brünnhilde are involved in a primitive early means of oil production. Before we are aware of what exactly is being refined here, the first Act where Siegmund stumbles into Hünding's lodge is also located on the same farmstead seemingly on a different plane. The use of the locations, consisting of a barn, stairs to upper levels and a watertower is extended again through the use of screens of a black and white film showing mining operations, with close-ups on some of the interior action, such as Sieglinde preparing Hünding's night-time drink. Conceptually it's certainly a bit of a leap, but dramatically the direction functions well.

Whatever you might make of Castorf's intentions for the sets and locations doesn't really matter on a rational level. The action that takes place within it at least works within the boundaries of the themes and the libretto and brings it to life. It's Marek Janowski's pacy conducting of the music that drives the first Act however, capturing that wonderful blend of danger and romance that arises between brother and sister much more successfully than the performances of Christopher Ventris and Heidi Melton, which are individually fine, paying attention to little glances and touches, but they doesn't really have a lot of evident chemistry, or at least not of the Wagnerian Romantic scale. Musically it also captures the dramatic perfection of this work that is full of undercurrents and foreboding. You can sense all of this even if you don't 'get' the concept.

As with the earlier Das Rheingold however you'll find that there's little time to really let your mind wander into considerations about what it all means or be concerned about individual performance or technique. Perhaps it's because the subtitles translate Wagner's florid and archaic libretto a little more understandably, but I don't think I've been inclined to pay as much attention to the words and what we are being told through all the dramatic conflict and tensions. It works on a purely dramatic level, which is the strong point of Die Walküre, drawing you in and allowing you to consider how brilliantly the dangers and the complications that are to play out have entrapped each of the characters, allowing you to really feel and sympathise with each one of them. You don't have to take Wotan's side or Fricka's here, both have valid claims and the fact that they are irreconcilable really feels tragic.

The person who has the most to lose however by being caught up in the post-Rheingold machinations is Brünnhilde. Siegmund's fate is also incredibly sad and unfortunate, but it's Brünnhilde who ends up carrying the can for the decisions and actions that are taken around his fate, and it will lead to even more tragic consequences down the line. If there's usually any one element that will determine how good any Die Walküre will be as the lynchpin of the entire Ring cycle, it relies heavily on the qualities of its Brünnhilde and in Catherine Foster we have one of the best daughters of Wotan I have seen. The choice of words is deliberate, as Foster really shows how much of the father is in the daughter, fully inhabiting the role and understanding it as being the will of Wotan. Her singing performance is nuanced and impressive in delivery.

That's not to say that any of the other roles in this opera are any less vital to the dramatic function of the work. Much of the dynamic revolves around the father and daughter relationship and John Lundgren gives us a powerful and authoritative Wotan, much more convincing than Iain Patterson in Das Rheingold. This is a very different Wotan however and there's a good case for having a different singer play the two parts. This is a Wotan who is starting to recognise how much he has given away in his desire for power, how his corrupt actions in cheating Alberich of the gold and the ring have set off a series of events that will ultimately destroy him, destroy them all. Lundgren gives a great performance that shows the formidable power of Wotan, one that bears more than a trace of bitterness, anger, regret and fear for what lies ahead.

With a Wotan and a Brünnhilde like that, both completely in tune with the drama and the intent, and with the conductor completely behind it, this Die Walküre is never going to be anything less than impressive. The other performances aren't quite up to the same level, but they are all very good indeed. I particularly liked the passion and the lyricism of Heidi Melton's Sieglinde, and her acting performance was also fully committed. Christopher Ventris was stretched to his limit, but held out and rallied through at the end of the second Act. Sarah Connolly didn't really succeed in placing a distinctive stamp on Fricka and also sounded a little pushed, but she was strong enough to present a credible opposition to Wotan's delusions. Georg Zeppenfeld sounded as accomplished and capable as ever, although his arched-eyebrow 'baddie' act is proving to be rather limited (he plays a similar thuggish King Marke in last year's Tristan und Isolde at Bayreuth).

The combined forces of the singers, the musical performance and the adherence to the dramatic integrity and themes of the work (which is after all everything opera should be about) ensured that this was a compelling Die Walküre in its own right, but Die Walküre is not a stand-alone opera. Castorf's production introduces a number of other talking points, ambiguities, subtexts and uncertainties that feed into the wider mythology of the Ring and its associated themes, but dramatically and emotionally everything comes together impressively in the third Act conclusion in a way that almost makes you long for some way to escape the terrible predicament of what must be inevitable by the time we get to Götterdämmerung.

Links: Bayreuth Festival

Wagner - Das Rheingold (Bayreuth, 2016)

Richard Wagner - Das Rheingold

Bayreuth, 2016

Marek Janowski, Frank Castorf, Iain Paterson, Markus Eiche, Tansel Akzeybek, Roberto Saccà, Sarah Connolly, Caroline Wenborne, Nadine Weissmann, Albert Dohmen, Andreas Conrad, Günther Groissböck, Karl-Heinz Lehner, Alexandra Steiner, Stephanie Houtzeel, Wiebke Lehmkuhl

Sky Arts - 26 July 2016

Frank Castorf's controversial production of Bayreuth's current Ring cycle may look far removed from the traditional mythological settings of Wagner's epic, but in reality it's closer to home and to the intent of the work than you might think. At heart, the central theme of the Ring that purity of intentions in relation to politics and power (if there even is such a thing - now there's mythology for you) is often corrupted by the imperfections of what makes us all human comes as a timely reminder of where we are in the world today and how we've got there. I haven't seen any Ring cycle even remotely as relevant and powerful as this in the last few decades.

Although Castorf sets the Ring's opening prelude music-drama Das Rheingold in a motel on Route 66 in the USA (and subsequent parts are equally global in their locations), a German or European audience would easily recognise the parallels it has to much that has taken place recently in Germany and in Europe in relation to power and politics. It wouldn't happen until long after his death, but Wagner's vision of the fall of the gods and the flawed human forces that replace them would be borne out by later historical developments. Without making any direct reference to a period that is loaded with controversy, Castorf makes a daring parallel that extends the purity of Wagner's idealised dream of a united nation into the corruption of those ideals by Hitler. It's almost as if Wagner could see it coming.

So uncomfortably close to home is that subject that Castorf is forced to bury it in layers, but rather than obscure the intentions of the Ring, the layers instead build upon it and prove its validity. It might be hidden behind a parody of the corruption of the American Dream in Das Rheingold, but such is the strength of Wagner's framework and vision that a German audience might recognise a similar dream closer to home in the reunification of East and West Germany or in the dream of closer European union. Regardless of whichever level you relate to it, Castorf's production is one that cuts through the mythological trappings and makes the subject of power and corruption, gods and humans really meaningful and relevant in a way that hasn't been seen since Patrice Chéreau's production at Bayreuth 40 years ago.

For all the lengthy expounding over 18 hours or so of the Ring cycle, the questions of purity of motive and intention (whether socialist or capitalist) being quickly subverted for the love of power and money is established fairly quickly in Das Rheingold (to such an extent that I've always felt that there are limited returns from the lengthier subsequent works - but maybe that's just me). A small man fed up of toiling in an underground cavern, the dwarf Alberich here wakes up in this production on a sunbed at a motel and is unable to resist the lure of the glamorous Hollywood starlet Rhinemaidens relaxing by the pool. He soon abandons any hope that the rich bathing beauties might slum it with him and instead decides that he can do much more with the vast quantities of gold they possess. Off he runs with it, hoping to turn it into a product that will benefit the workers only to become someone who later exploits them, corrupted by the power of wealth and promise of influence.

Meanwhile, the god Wotan and his wife Fricka (enjoying a threesome with Fricka's sister Freia) are in temporary accommodation at the motel while the builders are in. His dream is about to be realised (a grand statement that testifies to his dream of a making a nation great again through reunification). He's so busy admiring the view of his creation from his hotel room that he has forgotten that it needs to be paid for, and the Giants have arrived as heavies presenting the bill. The threats of the purity of his family being corrupted (Freia) by these thuggish foreigners he has used as cheap labour is more than he can bear. Having been told by Loge of the vast quantities of Rhinegold stolen by Alberich, he's prepared to exploit the Dwarf's weaknesses and appropriate those riches for the greater good (himself). Loge takes pleasure in playing with his lighter to ignite those flames and it's done significantly in the proximity of a petrol station.

Further backed into a corner over how he rules, the 'human' failings, the personal and domestic problems of this god/politician/leader/artist/ industrialist/genius composer all too soon unravel any noble intentions he might once have had. The supposed infallible omnipotence of the gods is coming to an end as all giants - gods or human - are inevitably destroyed by the corruption of office, the trappings of power, the lure of money or just indulgence of personal lusts and drives. Wagner's Ring however is more than just an allegory and has many other elements to highlight and explore - love, honour, family - but even within itself it can be seen to be an equally flawed creation (its composer too) with its inflated self-importance. All of this however reflects the inherent problem in man's ambition to assume power for a personal ideology.

Castorf's production not only deals with those larger themes in an elaborately constructed revolving motel/poolside/petrol station forecourt designed by Aleksandar Denić - one that touches on some big American themes - but it is sensitive to the complexities of Das Rheingold and the Ring, using cameras and screens and other familiar imagery ingeniously to explore and illustrate the text, subtext and nuances of a work that is too often overlooked in favour of Die Walküre. Castorf shows (or convinces me anyway) that Das Rheingold is the key work in the cycle, one that establishes the tone to be followed, one whose roots and leitmotifs will go on to be developed later in other ingenious ways - but the whole heft of the work is already contained in this opening masterpiece. All too often smothered in mythological trappings and the ambition of conductors and directors as a work more concerned with gods than mortals, rarely has the richness of all the qualities of Das Rheingold and its meanings been so openly exposed and laid bare. This is just brilliant.

Its ambitions are matched by the quality of the musical performance under Marek Janowski. It establishes a tone and detail that allows Frank Castorf to make full use of the rich cast of characters, singers and actors who go some way towards bringing Wagner's masterpiece to life and endowing it with personality. I wasn't totally convinced that Iain Paterson has the personality to carry Wotan but he does however create a great double act with Roberto Saccà's brightly lyrical Loge. Sarah Connolly sang well although Fricka seemed to get lost a little in all the goings-on. She should assert herself more convincingly later. Elsewhere all the roles were wonderfully entertaining and fascinating in their characterisation, notably Albert Dohmen's Alberich, Günther Groissböck and Karl-Heinz Lehner's Giants and Markus Eiche's Donner, but even down to the Rhinemaidens all these wonderful creations just breathed life and exuberance and this Bayreuth Das Rheingold was consequently one of rivetting drama full of meaningful portent. 

Links: Bayreuth Festival

Handel - Ariodante (Aix-en-Provence, 2014 - Webcast)

George Friedrich Handel - Ariodante

Festival d'Aix-en-Provence, 2014 

Andrea Marcon, Richard Jones, Sarah Connolly, Patricia Petibon, Sandrine Piau, Sonia Prina, David Portillo, Luca Tittoto, Christopher Diffey

Culturebox - Live Streaming, July 2014

In an interview in the programme for the Aix-en-Provence production of Ariodante, conductor Andrea Marcon notes the unique character of this work as an Italian opera with French influences and adornments written by a German composer for an English audience. One would think that it would be difficult to reconcile all those different elements, but Handel of course makes it all seem perfectly fluid and natural. It only makes the challenge harder for the conductor and the stage director to make a production of Ariodante run as smoothly for a modern theatre audience.

Andrea Marcon clearly has the measure of the work, and a great love for it, making a strong case for it being the 'perfect' Handel opera in its structure, in the strength of its melodies and arias, and in the consistency of its melancholic tone. His work is made considerably easier, I would say, by the quality of the orchestra and singers he is working with here at the Aix Festival. The Freiburger Barockorchester keep that essential rhythm and tone that is in the piece, while the real musical colour is there in the range and the variety of singing voices. The musical performance is accordingly of the highest order.

For his part, stage director Richard Jones seeks to find a down-to-earth consistency of tone in a work that would appear have so many international influences, and he finds that in the Scottish setting of Ariodante. There's nothing to be gained from going right back to the 8th century period of Antonio Salvi's libretto, based on Ariosto's 'Orlando Furioso', but the Scottish character of the work is important. Jones' references would seem to come from Michael Powell's Scottish islands feature film 'The Edge of the World' (1937), with something of the flavour of 'I Know Where I'm Going' (1945). Jones also cites Lars von Trier's 'Breaking the Waves', which is in indeed much more in line with the dark, melancholic and sometimes cruel tone of Ariodante.

The production design by Ultz gives us a more familiar and essentially timeless character that is modern without being quirkily modernised, far as it is from a royal tale of knights in the age of chivalry. Jones, for better or worse, sees Ariodante as more of a community drama, and as such it has something of the appearance of his Peter Grimes for La Scala. The outdoor Théâtre de l’Archevêché in Aix-en-Provence might also have had some bearing on the choice to have a single multi-purpose set, a cross section of a humble manor with four rooms separated by invisible walls and nominal doors, the dress sense that of island fisherman, fairisle sweaters, tanktops and weatherproofs.

It doesn't quite have the magical, the historical or the regal quality that you might like for this work, but Jones is able to differentiate between the social status and class differences of the characters. The king is more of a laird, but still the most important figure in the community, commanding respect. Polinesso is a firebrand preacher, which doesn't really seem to fit with his position as the Duke of Albany, but it does give him a role where he is capable of manipulating and influencing the local island people, stirring them up and using them for his own purposes. For the most part, it works reasonably well, with there being little that detracts from the drama or its musical flavour.

The best touch is the use of puppet storytelling. Imaginatively and impressively staged, they succeed in lifting the production at precisely those right moments at the finale of each act. It's challenging enough to make the choral arrangements and French ballets fit in with the drama, but they are well choreographed here as a traditional dance-hall céilidh. The end-of act puppet shows however give us a bit more of an extension beyond the life on the stage, Act I imagining married life for Ariodante and Ginerva, Act II creating a nightmarish vision of Ginerva's downfall, Act III reinstating the hoped for return to the vision of Act I. In Jones' production however, there's a recognition that there's no going back after what has happened, that Ginerva's life lies out beyond the island and that Act II nightmare descent into pole-dancing and prostitution might still be a possibility.

Despite its short run on its London opening in 1735, which is not necessarily a reflection on the quality of the work, there is merit to the claim of Ariodante being a perfect Handel opera. There are other contenders that can claim to be Handel's best work - Giulio Cesare for example having a greater variety of moods, melodies and action. Coming just around the time that Handel was starting to switch over to oratorio writing but not quite jaded by the opera format (as can possibly be seen in Deidamia), Ariodante can certainly be said to demonstrate all of the composer's brilliance in the art of opera writing. For its perfection to be evident however it really needs the right kind of singers to do it justice, and you can't argue with the quality of the cast that have been brought together for this Aix production.

As Ariodante, you don't get much better than Sarah Connolly in this type of role. I wasn't actually sure the role best suited her voice in places during Act I, but I was totally convinced by her simply magnificent performance of 'Scherza infida' in Act II. In terms of performance and dramatic commitment, Connolly is at her best right now and hard to beat. Patricia Petibon takes on the challenging range and da capo ornamentation of the role of Ginerva, a testing role that she gets through it with verve, personality and strong technique. Her wild red hair is another advantage here in a Scottish opera, but she's also strong in terms of characterisation, her Ginerva not just a put-upon victim. There's no shortage of personality in the role of Polinesso, despite the strange firebrand preacher characterisation in this production. It needs a true contralto and Sonia Prina has everything that is required here, particularly impressive on the lower end of the tessitura and utterly convincing in the masculine role.

The other three leads were no less impressive than the main roles. Sandrine Piau in particular was just outstanding. Dalinda is an interesting character to work with - in the thrall of her passions for Polinesso, she becomes a betrayer to others and is ultimately manipulated and betrayed herself. Piau makes the most of this in her Act II aria 'Se tanto piace al cor', and in her Act III realisation of what she has done. Richard Jones is right to follow this right through to having permanent consequences, particularly when it's as powerfully drawn as it is here by Piau. Despite the opportunities afforded by Handel's writing, there's no vocal grandstanding anywhere here, just pure dramatic expression. Luca Tittoto gave a heartfelt performance as the King of Scotland, his 'Invida sorte avara' aria in particular just superb, and David Portillo's lyrical tenor voice gave Lurcanio a measure of sensitivity rather than simply hotheadedness.

Links: Culturebox, Festival d’Aix-en-Provence

Rameau - Hippolyte et Aricie (Glyndebourne 2013 - Blu-ray)

Jean-Philippe Rameau - Hippolyte et Aricie

Glyndebourne 2013

William Christie, Jonathan Kent, Ed Lyon, Christiane Karg, Sarah Connolly, Stéphane Degout, Katherine Watson, François Lis, Julie Pasturaud, Samuel Boden, Aimery Lefèvre, Loic Felix, Ana Quintans, Emmanuelle de Negri, Mathias Vidal, Callum Thorpe, Charlotte Beament, Timothy Dickinson

Opus Arte - Blu-ray

On previous experience of this early work of French Baroque opera at a production in Paris a few years ago, Rameau's Hippolyte et Aricie can often feel like a rather dry classical text adapted to the lyric stage by an experienced composer already well-renowned for his academic approach to the musical form. With William Christie leading the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment however in this rather more lively production for Glyndebourne, it's evident that the elegant rhythms and melodies of the work can actually be sensitive, expressive, witty, thoughtful and movingly tragic. The scenes in Hippolyte et Aricie moreover also offer opportunities for great spectacle, another vital component of Baroque opera and Glyndebourne is traditionally good at that. The 2013 production does indeed offer considerable spectacle, and if its relevance is not always clear it is at least in tune with the tone and the spirit of the work and the musical interpretation.

Questions about the relevance of Jonathan Kent's staging are sure to arise however in the Prologue. In Hippolyte et Aricie, it's a typically Baroque one that has opposing deities in dispute with one another in a way that is to have a profound affect on ordinary mortals (and some semi-deities) over the course of the subsequent drama. Quite why this takes place inside a giant fridge is hard to fathom and likely to come as a bit of a shock to the bewildered viewer, but there's no question that it fully lives up to the requirement to provide wonderful spectacle. It looks marvellous and is certainly inventive as cauliflower clouds hover over the stage, a lemon slice becomes the sun, and broccoli stalks descend to turn into trees. It's at least appropriate to characterise the icy detachment of the goddess Diana by confining her to the ice-box, while a fiery Cupid, whose influence is to cause such havoc to Diana's followers and worshippers, hatches out of an egg - but what on earth are the gods doing in a fridge in the first place?

Well, in addition to being a classical text, Hippolyte et Aricie is - as this production emphasises in its own very stylised way - very much a domestic drama, a point emphasised when the Three Fates warn Theseus at the end of Act II that he will escape from the Underworld only to find Hell at home. Hell as it happens is depicted cleverly and imaginatively here in Paul Brown's amazing designs as existing at the back of the very same fridge where the gods reside, and if you've ever ventured behind your own kitchen, you'll know how accurate an analogy that is. The Fates' prediction of "domestic Hell" proves to be true for the son of Neptune, who returns to find that his wife Phaedre, believing Theseus dead (usually a requirement for access to the Underworld), has fallen in love with his son Hippolytus. Mythological it might be and inspired by the actions and whims of the immortals, but Cupid has indeed brought disharmony into the formerly very secure, cool and detached "innocent" world of Diana's followers and their blood sacrifices. The fall-out is very real and domestic, Phaedre bemoaning that she is "unable to kill this detestable love" for her stepson.

What's missing of course is harmony between the Gods and, thereby, between ordinary mortals. Neptune appeals to Pluto for the release of Theseus from the Underworld in Act II saying that "the well-being of the universe depends on your common harmony", but the balance has been disturbed by Cupid's intervention, inspiring Hippolytus to love Aricia, in the process incurring Phaedre's jealousy and suppressed feelings for Hippolytus. As an opera, in its structure and in its musical arrangements as well as in its subject, Hippolyte et Aricie also operates very much on this notion of harmony and the balancing of elements, and Rameau - as academic a composer as he might be - makes the case not only structurally and harmonically, but with a sensibility for the beauty of such imperfect human sentiments in the sphere of what makes them aspire to be gods.

William Christie fully explores all the melodic and harmonic richness of what Rameau expresses so brilliantly in the musical arrangements, but also balances this with the requirements of the singing. Spectacle ("le merveilleux") and entertainment ("divertissement") are other factors that count towards this balance and harmony of all the elements, and that's all there too in the gorgeous but dramatically pointless ballet interludes and in the big and smaller details of the production design. The fridge in the Prologue is followed by a more traditional scene in the forests for the followers of Diana that nonetheless reflects the horrors (hanging deer, corpses dragged across the stage, copious blood) of the sacrifices. The Hell behind the fridge meanwhile has dancing flies, infernal devices in the shape of power units, with all sorts of horrible gunk and creatures caught up in the extractor grille.

As well as being visually inventive and thematically attuned to the work, the sets also demonstrate good storytelling technique that is accessible and allows the audience to better engage with a work that what could otherwise appear rather dry and fusty. Some elements however work better than others, so while it's meaningful to have the home of Theseus and Phaedre look like a tastefully-decorated suburban semi-detached (shown in cutaway cross-section in a manner reminiscent of Katie Mitchell's designs for Written on Skin), you miss out on the traditonal spectacle of Neptune's grand entrance by reflecting it through a living-room fish tank. The later acts might not always find imagery as strong the fire and ice of the earlier acts - Act V taking place in a mortuary - but there is some attempt to retain a dramatic narrative in the ballet sequences, and the singing performances too are strong enough to take up the lack of drive in the latter half of the work. 

Several of the best performers seen in the Paris production reprise their roles here to even more dazzling effect, while those that have been changed are often just as fine if not better in the roles. That means we not only have the excellent Stéphane Degout as Theseus, but we also have the simply stunning Sarah Connolly again in the role of Phaedre. In addition to being merely a formidable presence, as she was in Paris, Christie's arrangements and Connolly's performance also manages to elicit some sympathy for her character's predicament. As Hippolytus, Ed Lyons is perfect for the intentions of this production, his voice delicate but also strong enough to be capable of matching and standing up to Connolly/Phaedra. If he was weaker, this wouldn't work half as well. Christiane Karg however just didn't work for me as Aricia. It can be somewhat of a bland role, but Karg didn't really have anything to enliven it here. Ana Quintans was a bright Cupid however, François Lis majestic as Pluto, Neptune and Jupiter, and Katherine Watson an icily aloof Diana.

On Blu-ray, this Hippolyte et Aricie looks and sounds every bit as spectacular as the production itself, with a bold colourful video transfer of the performance and crystal clear sound mixes in LPCM 2.0 and DTS HD-Master Audio 5.1. Aside from the Cast Gallery, there's only one extra feature on the disc, a fifteen-minute making of that covers all aspects of the production, interviewing Christie and Kent, but takes a particular interest into Paul Brown's unusual costume and set designs. The disc is BD50, region-free, with subtitles in English, French, German and Korean.

Britten - The Rape of Lucretia

Benjamin Britten - The Rape of Lucretia

English National Opera, Aldeburgh Festival 2001

Paul Daniels, David McVicar, John Mark Ainsley, Orla Boylan, Clive Bayley, Leigh Melrose, Christopher Maltman, Sarah Connolly, Catherine Wyn-Rogers, Mary Nelson

Opus Arte - Blu-ray

Although it's come late in the year that also celebrated the work of Verdi and Wagner, the centenary of the birth of Benjamin Britten has done much to consolidate and even raise the reputation of Britain's greatest composer, and in the process highlight some unjustly neglected works. If Richard Jones was unable to salvage the reputation of Gloriana however, it must be hoped that this belated release of David McVicar's 2001 production of The Rape of Lucretia for the English National Opera, recorded by the BBC at the Aldeburgh Festival, will bring this more deserving work to the attention of a wider audience. The Rape of Lucretia is a work of extraordinary intensity and depth that sees Britten at his most distinctive and inspired.

Following the full orchestration of Britten's first opera Peter Grimes, The Rape of Lucretia marks something of a rethinking of approach to opera that would have a significant impact on the style of much of the composer's later dramatic works. There appears to be a more overt religious Christian element here that one sees echoes of in the Canticles and in the Church Parables, but Britten's interest in the subjects of these works would appear to go beyond Christian parable towards less clearly defined and somewhat more ambiguous moral issues. What is most interesting in The Rape of Lucretia however is Britten's approach to the scoring of the work, not only reducing the orchestration to allow the instruments greater individual voices, but also striving to find a unique expression in them that doesn't always adhere to expected conventional dramatic writing.

The subject of The Rape of Lucretia then is a powerful one which, when combined with Britten's musical scoring of it, is almost harrowing in its intensity. All the more so when it's given a strong interpretation and that is certainly the case in this production. On the surface, the plot and the sequence of events that lead up to the event seem to be as direct and straightforward as the title of the work itself. A group of Roman generals have made a drunken bet over the fidelity of their wives and unadvisedly tested it as far as to confirm their own unenlightened views. Junius in particular is bitter about the outcome, remarking to Tarquinius that "Women are all whores by nature" that "Virtue in women is a lack of opportunity" and that they are only chaste when they aren't tempted. He's not beyond recognising the hypocrisy of his position either, noting that "men defend a woman's honour when they would lay siege to it themselves".

There is however one exception to the rule it seems - Lucretia, the virtuous wife of Collatinus. Tarquinius, the "Prince of Rome" however refuses to accept that she is any different from the rest and goes out of his way to prove it. He invites himself into her home, visits her bedroom at night and forces himself upon her. As harrowing an ordeal as this is for Lucretia, what proves to be more despairing and leads to her taking her own life is the reaction of her husband when he learns of what has occurred and the shame of what other people will say about her. On the surface then, the story seems a familiar operatic one - the defilement of the chastity of an innocent woman that one finds throughout bel canto and opera semiseria works (Donizetti's Linda di Chamounix or Rossini's Sigismondo) with the added piety of Schumann's only opera work, the magnificent Genoveva.

Having already written Peter Grimes however, it's not difficult to see in The Rape of Lucretia themes that preoccupy Britten throughout his musical career and even in his personal life relating to the corruption of innocence. Lucretia, for Britten however is about much more than just the defilement of a woman's saintly virtue, but touches on the nature of society and the values that it assigns to men and women. And at the heart of it, there's the question of violence, how it can be seen as acceptable in certain circumstances - the Roman-Etruscan war forms more than a backdrop for the work - or at least excused in the case of it being part of the nature of man. War is a subject of great importance to Britten and The Rape of Lucretia would seem to question whether this is necessarily the case, or whether pacifism isn't truer to the better nature of mankind.

It's commented on specifically by the 'Male Chorus', a single singer who represents one of the more interesting means of expression that Britten makes use of in this opera. The Male Chorus and the Female Chorus are omniscient overseers who are witness to the events, but who exist outside of time and the period in a way that allows them to consider the events from a later 'Christian' perspective. The Male Chorus observes that "For violence is the fear within us all / And tragedy the measurement of man / And hope his brief view of God". It's an important device that allows the composer a wider perspective and a contemporary relevance, and not insignificantly, it's a device that has been used recently in a very similar way by Martin Crimp and George Benjamin in their very contemporary view of the medieval storyline of Written on Skin.

It's Britten's musical arrangements however that are just as innovative, distinctive, modern and relevant. The reduced orchestration highlights the expression of individual instruments and heightens the dramatic tone and tension of the subject. Rarely does the music rely on any conventional signposting that tells you how to react to the drama, but instead it fulfils the primary function of music in opera by exploring below the surface and revealing other depths. It's beautiful and haunting, underpinning the drama in Britten's own developing idiomatic language, but it also expresses convictions that are important to the composer in relation to his own life, views that were out of place with the accepted conventions of prevailing social attitudes of the time.

How much David McVicar's direction contributes to the sheer power and intensity that comes across in this production is hard to judge. The set itself is relatively straightforward, unadorned and more or less period. One directorial choice that goes against the original specifications is in how McVicar involves the Male and Female Chorus more in the action. Not quite interacting with it, but certainly having more of a presence, and this works well, as it is an important feature of the opera. If it's difficult to point to any specific directorial choice that evidently has an impact on the performance, what is clear nonetheless is the McVicar gets the mood exactly right and his direction of the singers and the acting is what ultimately makes this a truly great production.

Which of course means that you need fine singers who can also act in order to do it justice. The cast here is great, although not all of them are in their prime. Sarah Connolly is still terrifically good, it's just that she's an even better singer now. Christopher Maltman too has also matured into a better singer, but he has always been a good actor is performance here is, if anything, just a little too creepy and disturbing. In this work however, that isn't a bad thing at all. John Mark Ainsley is at his best here as the Male Chorus and with Orla Boylan good as his counterpart, the Female Chorus. All the roles really are just terrific and the measure of the success of the production is that it's about as intense, well-sung, painfully well-acted performance of The Rape of Lucretia as you could wish for, a perfect match for Britten's remarkable score, which is revealed in all its brilliance here by Paul Daniels.

Rameau - Hippolyte et Aricie

Jean-Philippe Rameau - Hippolyte et Aricie

Opéra National de Paris, 2012

Emmanuelle Haïm, Ivan Alexandre, Sarah Connolly, Anne-Catherine Gillet, Andrea Hill, Jaël Azzaretti, Salomé Haller, Aurélia Legay, Topi Lehtipuu, Stéphane Degout, François Lis, Marc Mauillon, Aimery Lefèvre, Manuel Nuñez Camelino, Nicholas Mulroy, Jérôme Varnier

Palais Garnier, Paris, 9 July 2012

This new production of Jean-Philippe Rameau’s Hippolyte et Aricie comes at an interesting time in the recent revival of French Baroque opera. While William Christie has moved on to investigate further back through the works of Cavalli, Charpentier and Lully, the arrival - or so it seems - of Rameau’s first opera is freshly put into historical context. In some respects this works in its favour, allowing us to better understand the impact and the influence that Rameau would have on the world of French opera, but on the other hand, through Ivan Alexandre’s rather old-fashioned traditional production, the work suffers in comparison to the efforts that Christie and his collaborators have made towards making these works accessible and meaningful to a modern audience.

Mostly however, thanks to the musical direction of Emmanuelle Haïm, Hippolyte et Aricie does indeed show how much more modern a composer Rameau was in relation to his predecessors. The opera, the composer’s first and written late in his career, is perhaps still too mired in the conventions of the French tragédie lyrique, but coming after having published his Treatise on Harmony in 1722 and his New System of Music Theory in 1726 and having established his career as an accomplished composer of music for the harpsichord, technically Rameau’s music is much more advanced, breathing a freshness and sense of modernity into the ensemble arrangements, with the choral sections in particular sparking the work into life. In almost all other aspects however, but mainly in narrative or dramatic terms, Hippolyte et Aricie is a very dry, conventional baroque work that doesn’t hold up quite as well as some of the composer’s other great works, Castor et Pollux, Les Indes Galantes, Les Boreades or Zoroastre.

It might help if you are familiar with the background of the Greek tragedy Phaedra as told by Euripides, Seneca or Racine - certainly most of the audience in Rameau’s time would have been familiar with the mythology - but even then Pellegrin’s libretto puts its own particular spin on the subject, as making Hippolyte and Aricie the focus of the story might suggest. A lot of the reworking was undertaken in order to meet the demands of the lyric stage, and Rameau’s opera complies with all the conventions of the form, from the opening prologue in a pastoral setting where Diana and Cupid issue challenges to settle a dispute over who reigns over the hearts of men, with a love story then at the heart of the work and scenes set for spectacle and variety in storms and journeys to the Underworld, with Gods and mythological figures dropping in at every opportunity to show off the stage machinery.

The production, directed by Ivan Alexandre with set designs by Antoine Fontaine, does its best to replicate a sense of the original spectacle using period-style props, backdrops and stage effects, the Gods descending impressively on clouds, on top of huge deluges of waves and from the mouths of giant mythical sea monsters. It looks terrific, but none of it really does anything for a dramatic style that already feels dated, failing to find a way that makes a modern audience want to care about the figures in this ancient drama that flits from scene to scene without making a great deal of sense. The colour schemes and lighting used don’t help matters, pale green and sepia under subdued lighting make this look dusty, faded and murky.

There are however compensating factors that make this more than worthwhile. First, of course, is Rameau’s music. If it’s not greatly attuned to the emotional undercurrents, it at least has musical variety (enough for ten operas according to Campra) and is full of wonderful harmonies and melodies. In narrative terms it’s a hugely disjointed work, a series of standalone scenes with linking recitative, interrupted even further and with regularity for choruses and ballet sequences at the most inappropriate of times, all to give the original intended audience the variety and contrast they would have expected, but the leaps and lurches at least allow Rameau to vary the rhythm and tempo with that distinct freshness of character. Most impressive are the choruses, which came across quite stunningly as sung by the Choir of the Concert d’Astrée, as well as a trio of voices of the three Fates. Musically, all of this was directed with a great sense of verve and rhythm by Emmanuelle Haïm.

Also very much in favour of the production was the terrific cast assembled here at the Palais Garnier, even if not all of the roles came across equally as well. Topi Lehtipuu and Anne-Catherine Gillet sang the parts of Hippolyte and Aricie well, with beautiful tone, but caught up in the disjointed narrative, their roles never really came to life and they were as dull as the costumes they were dressed in, slipping into the background. They did have a lot of colourful characters and singers to contend with however, such as Sarah Connolly’s dominant Phèdre, Jaël Azzaretti’s sparkling Amour (Cupid) and Stéphane Degout’s brooding Thésée (Theseus).