Verdi - Alzira (Buxton, 2018)

Giuseppe Verdi - Alzira

Buxton Festival, 2018

Stephen Barlow, Elijah Moshinsky, Kate Ladner, James Cleverton, Jung Soo Yun, Graeme Danby, Phil Wilcox, Luke Sinclair, Brian McNamee, Helen Bailey

Buxton Opera House - 20th July 2018

If there's a lesson to be learned from the fate of Verdi's Alzira, it's never offer a negative assessment of your own work. Whether Alzira is a noble failure or potentially redeemable is never really going to be considered when the composer is on record describing it as "proprio brutta" (downright ugly). If you want to consign one of your operas to obscurity that's the way to do it. Even when all of Verdi's early operas have been revived in recent years - successfully or otherwise - most companies still give Alzira a wide berth. Even when compiling a complete Tutto Verdi collection of the composer's work on DVD, the producers could only manage to include a concert version of this opera rather than a fully staged performance.

It's a very pleasant surprise then to discover that Alzira's poor reputation really isn't merited. Far from it, in fact. The only proper way to judge that however is by seeing it in a fully staged performance and thankfully, Buxton Festival were brave enough to take on the challenge (and curse) of Alzira as the third of Stephen Barlow and Elijah Moshinsky's early Verdi revivals (following Giovanna d'Arco in 2016 and Macbeth in 2017) in preference to a more predictable Attila or Il Giorno di Regno, both of which have a lot less to recommend. Moshinsky's production really does pull the work together and proves that, as is often the case, a good production can mitigate against any perceived weaknesses and highlight the strengths of an opera like this.

The weakness of Alzira is that it's an early Verdi opera, which means that it's a bit crash-and-bang and not terrible subtle or original in its plot or characterisation. Based on a play by Voltaire about the assassination of a Spanish governor of Peru by an Inca uprising, Verdi chooses his sources material from a solid literary source but, as is often the case in the earlier works, jettisons any real political questions about the work's attack on colonialism and religion and instead gives the opera audience a romantic drama. The strengths of Alzira lie in the fact that it's still Verdi and he can bang out a great tune, has a strong sense of drama (particularly high drama) and dramatic pacing, and the work never outstays its welcome by trying to make anything more of the plot than is there on the surface.

It's a basic plot to say the least. Gusmano, the son of the Spanish governor Alvaro, wants to marry Alzira, the daughter of one of the Peruvian tribes trying to establish peace with the Spanish authorities. Alzira however is in love with Zamoro, the leader of the Inca tribe in rebellion against the colonial powers. Zamoro has been captured, tortured and has escaped, returning to plead clemency for the governor Alvaro, who has been kidnapped in retaliation by the Incas. He then returns apparently from the dead to the anxious Alzira. When Alvaro steps down and leaves his son to take his place as governor, Gusmano forges ahead with the wedding plans, leading to a further attack by Zamoro and his tribe, where Gusmano is killed.

Setting a complicated impossible romantic love story against the background of political turmoil and revolution is a fairly standard Verdi opera plot that he would carry on with as far as Un ballo in maschera and to some extent, albeit in much more sophisticated compositions, in Don Carlos and Aida. Here, long before Aida, there's an exotic setting - 16th century Peru - but at this stage you wouldn't really know it from the music or characterisation; there's little to distinguish it from Oberto, Ernani, Attila or any one of many early to middle period Verdi works. Verdi nonetheless turns the standard plotting of Alzira into a rousing drama with plenty of action and stirring grand choruses. Like many of the Verdi operas of this period it might seem a little rudimentary, there's a lack of memorable arias and there's no 'Va pensiero' or 'Patria oppressa', but it uses the political charge of the plot to hit all the necessary dramatic points exceptionally well, and even quite thrillingly.

A lot of the credit for it coming across that way has to be down to the spirited musical and singing performances. It would be a mistake to look for any real sophistication in the plot or music, but that doesn't mean Alzira shouldn't be taken completely seriously. Trying to play it ironically or with distancing effects doesn't do such Verdi works any favours. It demands to be played and performed with passion and sincerity, and Stephen Barlow conducts a spirited account of the work that feels fully committed and believing in the drama. The same approach works for the singers as well, with Kate Ladner as Alzira doing well to navigate the considerable challenges that Verdi provides to the soprano in these works, working alongside an impressive Jung Soo Yun as Zamoro, who also shone in last year's Macbeth as Macduff.

That goes some way to making the plot a little easier to swallow, but what brings it all together is Elijah Moshinsky's direction and the excellent production design of Russell Craig. The costumes and set colouration looks more Cuban than Peruvian, or closer to a Central American revolution, but for the purposes of the work - which never really explores the colonial issues - it works even better. TV breaking news reports put the drama into this context and the real-life revolution footage and abuse of the oppressive authorities does contribute to making the drama feel real and present. Projections are also used in a more abstract way also to suggest deeper sentiments than the plot or music really contain, but more than that they ensure that there is plenty of visual interest to engage the audience. Quite simply though, the real strengths are all in just good direction of the performances.

Quite why Verdi didn't believe in the work the same way that the Buxton team do is a mystery, although his reported comments are thought to be disparaging of the libretto more than his own solid musical contribution. I suspect part of the dislike of the work might also have been dissatisfaction with the ending. It's quite unusual for the 'villain' of the piece to be given an almost heroic role at the conclusion that puts the leading romance into the shade. It might not be the most convincing turnaround certainly and there's no Macbeth-like 'Mal per me' to seek or gain audience sympathy. As good as James Cleverton is, even he can't quite carry off this turnaround, but it certainly provides a shock, sudden resolution to the opera that is hammered home with relish by Barlow and a superb Northern Chamber Orchestra. What a delight to see Alzira being rehabilitated in this hugely enjoyable production. Not a lost masterpiece maybe, but a modest gem.

Links: Buxton Festival

Cherubini - Medea (Wexford, 2017)

Luigi Cherubini - Medea

Wexford Festival Opera, 2017

Stephen Barlow, Fiona Shaw, Lise Davidsen, Ruth Iniesta, Raffaella Lupinacci, Sergey Romanovsky, Adam Lau

National Opera House, Wexford - 31 October 2017

There's one essential element that you need for a performance of Cherubini's Medea and it's a fairly obvious one. No, it's not Maria Callas, but you're on the right track; it needs a character with the fire and personality that Maria Callas was capable of bringing to one of the most challenging roles in opera - or theatre, for that matter. There aren't too many Maria Callases around obviously, which might be one of the reasons why Cherubini's opera isn't performed more often these days, but there's no question that the Wexford Festival have found a great Medea in Lise Davidsen.

Finding a singer capable of harnessing the forces and challenges of this particular role is not however the only element that is essential to putting on a successful Medea, and there are other reasons why the opera is not performed very often. There are questions over which version to go with (French or Italian? The opéra-comique version with passages of spoken dialogue or the musical interpolations for the recitative provided by Franz Lachner for a German version of the work?). There's also the nature of the Classical opera and its fashionability, and Cherubini has never really been fashionable, not even in his own time.

All of those issues are well-addressed by Stephen Barlow, who conducts a magnificent account of the Italian version with Lachner recitatives at Wexford, and it truly reveals the merits of the work. There's no overblown Romanticism, but rather the restrained and measured elegance of the Classical tradition is adhered to; a sense of order in the music however that feels constantly threatened by the actions of its principal character. The music carries within it a hint of that menace, tying it to the dominant nature of the role that Medea exerts on the piece, her efforts to maintain control over her actions and her life always seeming to be in danger of giving in to her darker nature and spilling over into horrible violence.

Finding a way to meaningfully draw out that aspect of the work also seems to inform Fiona Shaw's approach to the direction. She takes into consideration that Cherubini composed the opera in 1797, with the horrors and dark violence of the French revolution would undoubtedly found its way into the composition. Certainly there are parallels to be drawn towards violence being inflicted on an unsuspecting royal family, but as an actress who has played this role on the stage, Shaw looks beyond that and tries to examine where exactly such murderous thoughts and intent might have derived from. She finds that in the references in Medea's murder of her own brother to help Jason steal the Golden Fleece and that idea is woven into the production. Violence begets violence, as the Greek classics often warn us, and it's hard to argue with how this element in presented here.

The overture hints at the sins of the mother being visited upon the children of the next generation. The Wexford production opens with the children of Medea playing as they make the sea crossing to Corinth, but the storms left behind on Colchis are still present with them in the figure of Medea's brother who has a silent physical presence here. It's this more than any classical references that are important, and the nature of this corruption of the soul should still have relevance today. It doesn't necessarily have to be spelled out in terms of contemporary political topicality, but there is certainly room for that if the audience want to apply it to the world around them.

Shaw's production at least makes a more open interpretation possible by placing the action of the drama in a more contemporary setting. Act I sees Glaucis and her ladies working out at the gym, getting into shape for her forthcoming wedding to Jason. The arrival of Medea then is in marked contrast to this scene, bringing an unwelcome dose of reality into the picture. "Hey, Jason - what about those promises you made to me? What about the kids? What about the brother I killed just so that you could give the Golden Fleece as a wedding present to your new bride?"

Heavily paraphrased by me, that is nonetheless the import of Medea's words, and the contemporary setting just hits home the human sense of betrayal that Medea feels. But it's not just a matter of reducing classical mythology down to the level of a domestic dispute, and Shaw's production delves deeper into those archetypal themes with the symbolism of the sea, the waves, an island - all of it suggesting isolation, raging emotions, deep pain and urges towards violence that result in Medea's descent into madness.

The singing is fully up to the demands of the work and the intent of the production, showing just what Cherubini's opera has to offer. Lise Davidsen, in casual jeans and jumper, doesn't look at all like a demented enchantress, but that's the point. You don't know what will trigger Medea's reactions, but if those buttons are continually pushed, you will know all about it. You'll also know it from Davidsen's delivery, which is just phenomenal. It's not just that Davidsen meets the technical demands of the role, but she really does make it seem like Medea is on a hair-trigger, treading a line between outrage and entreaty, so that when she does finally explode and kill her children, it almost seems proportionate. And when it comes to it, the size of that voice does as much damage as Medea does to the gym equipment.

Ruth Iniesta also has a strong voice as Glauce, but it felt a bit overpowering, not quite as refined and controlled as Davidsen and almost too big for the O'Reilly Theatre. Raffaella Lupinacci made a terrific impression as Neris with some lovely lyrical singing. Sergey Romanovsky couldn't be faulted as Jason and his characterisation was also good, fitting in well with the production. While you can never have any real sympathy for Jason, his fault here is not so much betrayal and serial infidelity (as it can be in other opera versions of this story), but rather he is undone by his own weakness and misjudgement of Medea. There needs to be some kind of understanding of his position in order for the loss he suffers as a consequence to be utterly devastating, and in combination with Fiona Shaw's direction and Stephen Barlow's conducting - not to mention some impressive work from the orchestra and the chorus - the full force of Cherubini's Medea is felt by the time we get to that conclusion.

Links: Wexford Festival Opera

Britten - Owen Wingrave (Dublin, 2017)

Benjamin Britten - Owen Wingrave

Opera Collective Ireland, 2017

Stephen Barlow, Tom Creed, Benjamin Russell, Christopher Cull, Peter O'Reilly, Roisín Walsh, Rachel Croash, Amy Ní Fherarraigh, Sarah Richmond, Andrew Boushell

O'Reilly Theatre, Dublin - 16th September 2017

Up until now Owen Wingrave has been the only Britten opera that I haven't had the opportunity to see or write about. And as good as this 2017 Opera Collective Ireland production was at the Dublin Fringe Festival - and there are certainly qualities to admire in the work - I think however I can see why it is so rarely performed. It's an opera with some very obvious flaws and certainly a lesser work by the composer.

I don't think however that anyone can question the sincerity of purpose of the opera, or Britten's fervent belief in and commitment to spreading the gospel of pacifism. Henry James's short story Owen Wingrave and the opportunity to present the work to a wider audience as a television opera might have seemed like a good vehicle to get that message across, but both seem to involve some measure of compromise with both the medium and the message.

Being written for TV presentation isn't necessarily the problem, since Britten had reservations about the new medium and strove to ensure that the opera was composed to also work as a stage drama, but there is still little of real dramatic interest in the piece. It might be a little reductive - which I think is also a fault with the opera - but essentially it seems to me to be about a young man from a family with a proud military history who says he's had enough of this war lark and doesn't want to train to be a soldier. The remainder of the opera is a series of condemnations and accusations of cowardice from his family and his fiancée's family who line up to take turns to castigate him for his decision.

There is also a ghost story element that is added to bring another dimension to the work and to show the difference between cowardice born out of fear and genuine conscientious objection to the horror of war. The supernatural element however is nowhere near as effective or of an essence to the piece as it is in Britten's other Henry James adaptation The Turn of the Screw, and it feels oddly out of place with the rather more serious intentions of the work.

Like the previous adaptation however, Britten does develop a distinctive, eerie and often challenging musical treatment for the work with greater emphasis here on percussion and use of the gamelan. Britten also makes an effort to introduce some arias and haunting 'Malo malo' moments, but the discoursive nature of the piece means that it is heavily reliant on preachy recitative. And posh preachy recitative at that, much too tied up in old family traditions and class concerns to really touch upon the essential matters at the heart of the subject.

The production design for the Opera Collective Ireland production directed by Tom Creed made some effort to update the work with references to Kandahar and the Falklands, as well as seeking to find some other ways to represent it visually, but none of them managed to enliven the work, make it any more engaging or even illustrate the at times difficult to make-out words of Myfanwy Piper's libretto. Instead of family portraits and a mansion we have a room filled with stuffed birds of prey and an isolating border wall. Projections also contribute to representational undercurrents of blind nationalism in an imposing Union Jack, and to the more sinister side of it in shadows of the hawks coming to life.

On the performance side, a good cast made the most of the roles and did their best to give them distinguishing characteristics and personality that is hard to find elsewhere in their almost unanimous condemnation of the reluctant soldier. Benjamin Russell's clear-voiced baritone was well suited to the role of Owen Wingrave and in how it blended in with Stephen Barlow's conducting of the Irish Chamber Orchestra, and Andrew Boushell's tenor soared as Sir Philip and the ballad singer. The stand-out performance however was Amy Ní Fherarraigh who cut through all the manners and mannerisms and gave us a steely, determined and frankly intimidating Mrs Julian. If only the horror of war and the supernatural elements had been depicted half as vividly as her Mrs Julian, the fate of Owen Wingrave would indeed have been something truly to fear.

Links: Opera Collective Ireland

Verdi - Macbeth (Buxton, 2017)

Giuseppe Verdi - Macbeth (Buxton, 2017)

Buxton International Festival, 2017

Stephen Barlow, Elijah Moshinsky, Stephen Gadd, Kate Ladner, Oleg Tsibulko, Jung Soo Yun, Luke Sinclair, Ben Thapa, Helen Bailey, Charlie Lambert, Richard Moore, Molly O’Neill, Stuart Orme, Phil Wilcox

Buxton Opera House - 18th July 2017

There have been some fine productions in recent years that have raised Macbeth out of the obscurity of early Verdi operas up to a new level of appreciation. If the composer's early Shakespeare adaptation is still flawed in some respects and certainly not an opera that can ever be considered to be up there with his best work, Macbeth now at least has a deserved place in the Verdi popular repertoire.

Much of course depends on which version of the work is used and how it is presented, but with their latest Verdi venture for the Buxton Festival, Elijah Moshinsky and conductor Stephen Barlow believe that there is a case for viewing the earliest 1847 version without any of the composer's later revisions a little more sympathetically for its own operatic qualities, if not for its adherence to the Shakespearean drama. The Buxton production doesn't set out to make the case for the 1847 version being the definitive Macbeth, but rather just that it works on its own terms. They do that successfully but it seems to me to be a rather minor point to make when the work has the potential to offer so much more.

Other productions, perhaps identifying the weaknesses in the work as it stands in its various versions, can seek to reintroduce more Shakespeare into the opera or play with a hybrid that draws on the best of all versions to try to compensate for what is lacking in the dramatic development of the original opera version. Elijah Moshinsky's production for Buxton however plays it more or less straight. It's an abstraction really of Macbeth with no interpretation applied. There's no Scottish context or imagery, there are no elaborations of character or personality and no attempt to apply a dramatic through-line; one scene follows the next, condensing Shakespeare's play down to its essence.

That is more or less what Verdi and Piave do with Shakespeare in Macbeth anyway, so Moshinsky is really just removing anything that might be considered an interpretation or interpolation and just putting the focus back on Verdi's score and its ability to tell the story musically in its own way. Certainly Stephen Barlow's conducting of the NCO Festival Orchestra carried all the dynamism of the dramatic power and the melody of Verdi's arrangements, which are wonderfully effective no matter that they may not be as accomplished or as sophisticated in their characterisation as later Verdi. On its own terms the music delivers. Point proved.

Other than that however the Buxton Macbeth had little to offer in terms of interpretation to highlight themes or expand on aspects of characterisation. On a minimally dressed set that made use of a few benches against a background of castle walls, it was left mostly to the lighting, colour and shadow to actually visualise the colour of the effects of Verdi's score, principally in red and black. Some projections were also sparingly used to add emphasis to the punchier scenes of witchcraft, magic and murder most foul.

The use of projections in the scene of the visitation of the three apparitions conjured by the witches is the one place where the otherwise literal production goes a little off-script. Rather than a long line of kings descended from Banquo crossing the stage, the projections show a more interiorised whirl of horrors, snakes, skulls and demons within Macbeth's mind. Another slight revision is he timing of the death of the Queen, the production giving Macbeth's aria 'Pietà, rispetto, amore' as a lament to the corpse of Lady Macbeth rather than the customary distracted indifference, with the women rushing on scene to announce her death as if just discovering it.

This kind of emotional investment, sung well in this instance by Stephen Gadd, showed how well the work responds to the application of some tweaks of interpretation. Elsewhere such moments were uneven, the 1847 version of 'Patria opressa' lacks the stirring impact of its revised arrangement, but it wasn't helped with a straight line-up of the chorus across the stage with no dramatic direction. By way of contrast, Macduff's lament 'Ah, la paterna mano' that follows it carries the nature of the personal cost to the people of the land under Macbeth's reign of terror much more effectively, particularly as it was sung with great feeling by Jung Soo Yun.

Indeed The production might not have made the case for the 1847 original so well were it not for the singing. Proving again that the real key to the success of any early Verdi opera is often in how well the principal roles are able to meet its singing challenges, Stephen Gadd and Kate Ladner both gave convincing performances as Macbeth and Lady Macbeth, although inevitably they were pushed a little uncomfortably to their limits in places. Stephen Gadd's softer intoning carried the gravitas of the role well, fitting with the more sombre tone of the production. Having a strong Banquo in Oleg Tsibulko also helped maintain a good balance in the overall tone. All of which contributed to an authentic early Verdi experience, but really not much more than that. I can't say I'm optimistic that such an approach will do much to improve the reputation of Alzira planned for next year's Festival either.

Links: Buxton International Festival

Beethoven - Leonore (Buxton Festival, 2016)

Ludwig van Beethoven - Leonore

Buxton Festival 2016

Stephen Barlow, Stephen Medcalf, Kirstin Sharpin, David Danholt, Scott Wilde, Kristy Swift, Stuart Laing, Hrólfur Saemundsson, Jonathan Best

Buxton Festival - 19 July 2016

You can see the attraction in reviving the original abandoned version of Beethoven's only opera, even if the 1805 "first draft" has never received the popular acclaim accorded to the 1814 "finished article", Fidelio. There's the question of whether Leonore might not in actuality be closer to Beethoven's intentions before the censor and historical events caused him to rework it a number of times and introduce modifications that never fully satisfied the composer.

There's no question that Leonore works as a perfectly viable alternative version of Fidelio and there may indeed be a case for calling it purer, but I'm not sure anyone would go as far as Stephen Medcalf, the director of this production for the 2016 Buxton Festival, and claim that it has a better dramatic consistency. If anything, there is more of a feeling in Leonore of it being a case of Beethoven showing what he can do in the lyric medium. And given a good account - as Leonore is here in this production - what he can do is nothing short of phenomenal.

If the domestic and romantic frivolity of opéra comique concessions of the opening Act of Fidelio has always seemed at odds with the darker tone of the later acts, the stunning sequence of duets, trios, quartets all singing across one another in the opening sections is just dazzling. With the balance and range of the voices, particularly when they are sung as well as they are here, the act culminating of course with the famous "O welche Lust" chorus of the prisoners, all of it making the arrangement of this act as it stands in Leonore even more impressive.

Impressive but also meaningful. Somehow, whether it's the music, its playing or the stage direction, the purpose of Jaquino, Marzelline, Rocco and Fidelio's little domestic dramas becomes clear and its iterated in  "O welche Lust"; "Nur hier, nur hier ist Leben! Der Kerker eine Gruft" (Life is up here on the outside! The prison is a tomb). Beethoven presents a simple slice of life in Act I and as ordinary and commonplace as it might seem, the value of it and the beauty of how it is depicted in the musical arrangements shows us the nature of the very thing that is denied to those unjustly locked away and what it means to them.

So perhaps there is a stronger sense of dramatic consistency in Leonore than there is in Fidelio. It helps at least if the director has faith in this belief and is capable of putting it across in the stage direction and Stephen Medcalf does that. Getting across the idea of Leonore being a "purer" version of Beethoven's intent that comes from the heart is there with the composer himself present during the overture. It didn't seem strictly necessary or relevant to show Beethoven sitting writing the overture as it was playing, but by the latter half of the opera it becomes clearer. Florestan in the cage is Beethoven, the walls of the prison the walls of his room, himself a prisoner of his growing deafness, his passions for the Countess Josephine Deym, only finding expression and escape into the light of his music.

The personal passion and involvement of the composer with the content is important, but it's more than this else Leonore/Fidelio would not be the masterpiece it is considered today. It is of course, as the subtitle indicates, about "The Triumph of Marital Love", but it's also about more than just one couple overcoming adversity. The best idea in this production, even though it appears to be a comic touch, is for many of the other soldiers disrobe and be revealed as "Leonores", each of them fighting their own personal battle for freedom and justice. It strikes the right note at the extraordinary finale of this opera and is wholly appropriate for a heroic escape opera par excellence.

The conviction in the stage production was matched by the performances. Attempting to establish a connection between the composer and the subject, the overture somewhat lacked pace and dramatic drive, although its purpose would later become clearer. Elsewhere however, Beethoven's immaculately precise composition and the complexity of this 'virtuoso' version of his only opera was brought out beautifully and majestically in the Stephen Barlow's conducting of the Northern Chamber Orchestra. It hit all the musical high points as well as the dramatic points.

The singing was overall excellent. Scott Wilde's assured Rocco, Kristy Swift's bright Marzelline and David Danholt's anguished Florestan particularly stood out, demonstrating perfectly the kind of Mozartian lyricism that is the ideal voice for these roles. Leonore however is another matter, a much more challenging role that requires Wagnerian stamina, range and precision and it's even more complex in this version. It was then sometimes a little beyond the valiant efforts of Kirstin Sharpin who often struggled to stay on note, and in this unforgiving opera any minor imprecision was made very apparent. It also shows however just how brilliantly constructed Leonore is, and Buxton also make a strong case for the dramatic integrity of the work if not necessarily its superiority over Fidelio.

Links: Buxton Festival

Rossini - Otello (Buxton Festival 2014 - Buxton)

Gioachino Rossini - Otello

Buxton Festival, 2014

Stephen Barlow, Sara Fulgoni, Alessandro Luciano, Kate Ladner, Nicky Spence, Henry Waddington, Carolyn Dobbin, Leonel Pinheiro, Mikael Onelius, Andrew Brown

Buxton Opera House - 26 July 2014

I don't usually review concert performances of opera - the dramatic direction is as much a part of opera as the music and the singing - but a performance of Rossini's Otello is rare enough that that it's worth mentioning whenever it's presented. One of the principal reasons it's rarely performed is that it's hard to find singers good enough in this register, Otello notoriously requiring no less than five tenors in fairly challenging roles. Buxton get around this problem by using an alternative version of the opera that casts a mezzo-soprano instead of a tenor in the role of Otello. It's not so much getting around the problem as readjusting where the challenges lie, and you're still going to need four good tenors. All of which just increases the rarity value and interest in this performance.

A dramatic presentation of a work adapted from a Shakespeare play would, you think, be pretty much indispensable, but Rossini's Otello varies from Shakespeare's in a number of significant ways, not all of which will be satisfactory to the purist. The changes however are not arbitrary or ill-conceived, but are necessary to reduce the complexity and scale of the original play into a manageable music-drama format. To do that without losing the essence of the work is important, and while Rossini doesn't entirely succeed in some areas and can hardly be said to improve in any areas, in others the composer finds a successful medium, or at least one that has dramatic consistency.

The most controversial change in Rossini's version is of course the switching of Desdemona's handkerchief for a love letter. Written by Desdemona to Otello but never received by the latter, Iago convinces the Moor the letter that has come into his possession was intended for Rodrigo. This is much more tangible proof than a handkerchief, which means it doesn't take quite so much persuasion from Iago to convince Otello of her infidelity. It simplifies motivations certainly, but it's not just a shortcut, actually reducing the amount of chance and contrivance much that the drama relies on. Along with the suggestion that Iago's advances were once rebuffed by Desdemona, this also makes his motivations more credible than just evil ambition.

It's true however that the impulse to change certain aspects of the play derives more from Rossini need to adapt situation and characterisation to fit the structure of the number opera. With more long laments than action, Otello can also be seen to adhere more to the opera seria format, but Rossini respects the dramatic drive and innovates with accompanied recitative and interaction in duets between Otello and Rodrigo, Desdemona and Rodrigo, and - completing the triangle - between Desdemona and Otello. The placement of quintets, ensembles and choral pieces throughout the work all serve to create an even greater sense of the drama and situation.

A concert performance of the work just emphasises how dramatically effective Rossini's musical handling of the material is on it own terms. Or at least this one at Buxton did. It started off with the cast wearing formal evening dress and standing before music podiums, although Nicky Spence's Iago rakishly had his tie removed and shirt collar unbuttoned. By the end of the evening however, you'd have forgotten that this was a concert performance, all the singers seeming to have been caught up in the characterisation, the audience fully drawn into the drama by the escalating momentum of Rossini's arrangements.

It did however take a while to become accustomed to a mezzo-soprano in the role of Otello rather than Desdemona. It wasn't so much from a vocal standpoint however as a visual one and in male costume during a full production, it probably wouldn't have been an issue at all. Sara Fulgoni's powerful performance however made it easy to feel the extent of Otello's rage and the force of personality that would lead him to such drastic actions, and there was actually a discernible difference between the two female leads in the more feminine gowns worn by Kate Ladner. Ladner's performance was exceptionally good, devastating in her account of Desdemona's predicament, her Willow Song in particular deeply touching.

Buxton however managed to overcome the other singing challenges of this work such apparent ease that you'd almost wonder why all the fuss about putting on Rossini's Otello. Alessandro Luciano was certainly tested as Rodrigo, but came through it well, with clear bright enunciation and a strong dramatic tenor voice. Nicky Spence really impressed me with his Iago. This is a more dramatic role that requires a deeper and darker timbre than I've heard him sing in before, but he was thoroughly convincing and dramatically effective, singing the role with apparent ease. Under the fine direction of Stephen Barlow, the Northern Chamber Orchestra and the Buxton Festival Chorus were again simply outstanding, handling the intricacies of the work with an eye on the whole overarching structure and journey that Rossini's wonderful score thrillingly takes.

Dvořák - The Jacobin (Buxton Festival 2014 - Buxton)

Antonin Dvořák - The Jacobin

Buxton Festival, 2014

Stephen Barlow, Stephen Unwin, Andrew Greenan, Nicholas Lester, James McOran-Campbell, Anne Sophie Duprels, Nicholas Folwell, Matthew Newlin, Bonaventura Bottone, Anna Patalong, Martha McLorinan

Buxton Opera House - 24 July 2014

There are a lot of lost or forgotten operas and they usually aren't performed for a good reason, whether it's changing fashions and taste, or the fact that they often they just aren't very good. The wonderful thing about the Buxton Festival's revivals of neglected operas is that you not only get a chance to determine whether a rarely performed work has any merit, but you can be almost certain that if an obscure opera has been chosen to be produced at the festival, it's usually because it's worth it. Dvořák's The Jacobin is, on this showing, clearly an opera worth reviving.

Musically, at least. Anyone who has had the opportunity to hear The Jacobin before (it was performed in concert version at the Barbican a year or so ago), will certainly have noted the beauty and the richness of melody in Dvořák's writing. There's more to an opera than just music however, it has to work dramatically on the stage. While the merits and pacing of the plot here are rather more open to question than the qualities of the music, the success of such a work can often depend on the interpretation and direction. In both respects, The Jacobin is traditionally in good hands at the Buxton Festival.

Stephen Barlow and the Northern Chamber Orchestra clearly relished the opportunity to explore and give full expression to Dvořák's warm melodic writing for The Jacobin. It's not the most sophisticated music, but it's full of wonderfully simple but catchy tunes that are appropriate for the content and the context. In addition to some beautiful arias and some fine multi-layered ensemble singing, Dvořák uses folk music as a basis for the arrangements, particularly the choral pieces that give it a strong national character. The influence of Wagner is not so evident here as much as Bellini, if you can imagine Bellini writing national anthems, or perhaps think of a more melodic Wagnerian flow in a Massenet style.

As a Czech national opera however, and as a comedy moreover, The Jacobin must also look to Smetana's The Bartered Bride. While it relies on many of the characteristics of the comic opera - arranged marriages to horrible old men that threatens the pure love of a young couple, dark family secrets that come to light when a long-lost family member returns - there's a feeling that The Jacobin almost tries to be too clever and risks trivialising or at least marginalising the simple mechanics of the plot for the sake of enriching it musically.

The actual plot is not the most sophisticated, operating on two main situations - one dramatic and one comic. The dramatic plotline involves the return of Bohuš with his new wife Julie back to his Bohemian hometown, where rumours have been spread of him becoming a Jacobin revolutionary during his stay in Paris. This rumour suits his brother Adolf, who stands to gain the inheritance of his father, Count Harasova, in the absence of his disinherited brother. Fully aware of the danger, Adolf ensures that his steward Filip has the stranger with false papers arrested. The comic plotline involves Terinka, the daughter of the music teacher Benda, being forced into a marriage with steward, when she is in love with Jiří. As the leading voices in Benda's choir, they use the occasion of singing rehearsals for a celebration for the Count to find a way of being together and thwarting Filip.

The choral practice takes up rather more of the opera than you might think relevant to the plot, and it seems a little indulgent on the part of the composer - Dvořák that is, as much as on the part of Benda who has pretensions to be the new Mozart. While this does give Dvořák the opportunity of writing serenades and anthemic choral pieces and blending those into the simple folk melodies and dramatic situations, it's not entirely gratuitous. Music does indeed play an important role in The Jacobin. The major resolutions are brought about not so much by revelations about identity as character. Julie's recollection (in a beautiful rendition by Anne Sophie Duprels) of nostalgic folk songs she has learned from her husband, ensure his release on the principle that they can't be bad people if they love the music of our country this much. In many ways, the music also saves Jiří and Terinka, who are indispensable to the music master.

As such, the quality of the singing is by no means a small matter in this opera, and this is a not a consideration neglected in Buxton productions either. There's a recognition that it's in the supposedly secondary characters where the real charm of The Jacobin lies and in this respect, the casting of Benda, Filip, Jiří and Terinka is perfect. Between them there's plenty of enthusiasm, bluster and good-humoured conflict. The singing is just delightful, as much in individual voices as in the blending of them (the English translation moreover working superbly in bringing together all those interweaving voices expressing conflicting sentiments. The staging, updated to a 1930s setting, was deceptively simple but worked remarkably well, Stephen Unwin focussing on the direction and interaction of the diverse characters, making them work well with one another. The Northern Chamber Orchestra were on outstanding form, showing a real feel for the drive and melody of the work, bringing it all together and showing just how wonderfully entertaining The Jacobin can be.

Saint-Saëns - La Princesse Jaune & Gounod - La Colombe

Camille Saint-Saëns - La Princesse Jaune
Charles Gounod - La Colombe

Buxton Festival, 2013

Stephen Barlow, Francis Matthews, Anne Sophie Duprels, Ryan MacPherson, Gillian Keith, Emma Carrington, Ryan MacPherson, Jonathan Best

Buxton Opera House - 5 July 2013

The choice of works for this year's Festival Double Bill feature at Buxton were perhaps not the most challenging or adventurous works (there is however another pairing of Sciarrino's Luci mie Traditici and Maxwell Davies' Eight Songs for a Mad King if you're looking for something rather bolder), but as well as reviving two undeservedly obscure works that one would rarely ever have the opportunity to see elsewhere, the pairing here of two opéra-comique works by Camille Sant-Saëns and Charles Gounod proved to be perfectly complementary, highly entertaining and maybe even a little thought provoking.

Considered on their own merits it has to be said that neither of the two short works are ever likely to enter standard repertory or ever be considered alongside such grand and great works by the composers of Samson et Dalila and Faust, but the intentions and the audiences for both Saint-Saëns' La Princesse Jaune and Gounod's La Colombe are very different.  Composed for the Opéra-Comique in Paris, both works are musically and dramatically typical examples of the comic operetta, with no greater ambitions than to provide a bit of light entertainment.  If the musical approach differs between the two composers - one interesting element that is highlighted by their being performed together like this - one thing that they have in common is that they are very much of their time.

Buxton however very cleverly linked the two works together by playing to their somewhat La Bohème character, both works taking place in neighbouring apartments of a dilapidated building in a rather shabby quarter of Paris.  La Princesse Jaune (The Yellow Princess), although originally set in Holland, here takes place in the bohemian garret of two artists.  One of them, Kornélis is obsessed with the image of a Japanese woman (dressed in a yellow kimono here to make the racial implications of the title less problematic) that he is compelled to endlessly paint.  He is so obsessed with the painted lady that he doesn't notice that his cousin Léna - who rather scandalously seems to share the apartment with him - is in love with him.  Under the influence of who knows what drug or concoction, Kornélis however starts to believe that Léna is his Princess come to life and only eventually comes to the realisation of his love for "the real thing".

La Princesse Jaune a little bit repetitive in its elaboration of this simple and absurd situation through a series of duets and solo pieces for two singers, but it's beautifully composed and structured nonetheless.  It's partly a satire on the obsession with all things Oriental during the period when it was written (1872) and Sant-Saëns even introduces pastiche pentatonic scale Japanese themes into the music, but he also defines the romantic flights of fancy of Kornélis with his poetic musings on love and beauty with the rather more down-to-earth immediate concerns of Léna.  One can't live on poetry even though it burns very nicely as we've seen in La Bohème, and like Rodolfo and Mimi the man and the woman have very different ideals on the subject of love.  In a way however, as light and entertaining as it is, La Princess Jaune nonetheless explores questions of illusion and reality in the transformative power of art and love to enrich our rather more mundane lives.

Different ideals on the question of love and the necessity nonetheless of putting food on the table are also to the fore in Gounod's La Colombe (The Dove).  This is a very different side of Gounod from the familiar grand scale compositions - even if Faust was itself also originally written for the Opéra-Comique with sections of spoken dialogue.  La Colombe on the other hand is very much an operetta in its subject matter as well as in its light musical numbers.  Performed in English here at Buxton, it's similarity to the works of Gilbert and Sullivan or with an Oscar Wilde comic farce are even more evident.

The question of a romantic ideal here can be symbolised within the figure of the dove (which fortuitously rhymes with love in English).  Horace keeps it as a memory of his love for the Countess, and even names it Sylvia after her. He's still faithful to the memory of the love they once shared even though she mistreated him, spent all his money and then abandoned him, leaving him penniless.  Horace and his servant Mazet now eke out a miserable existence in an unsavoury district of Paris, housed just below a couple of disreputable artists on the floor above, one of whom has an obsession with all things Japanese (Anne Sophie Duprels' Léna making a cameo appearance during the overture here).

Musically, La Colombe doesn't appear to offer the same riches that can be found in the Sant-Saëns work that preceded it, but here in its two-act 1866 version, it's similarly well-constructed and has a rather more entertaining variety in the series of mishaps of its plot when Sylvia turns up looking to purchase the dove.  She has no romantic notions associated with the dove, but rather just wants it as another social fashion to compete with the parrot owned by her rival, the Countess Amalia.  Keen to show the depths of his devotion to his former lover but unable to provide her with a suitable meal, Horace, unaware of the nature of her visit, orders Mazet and Maître Jean (Sylvia's manservant) to serve up the only fresh and edible food in the house - the dove.

On their own merit then neither work is of any great depth, but as usual they way that they are brought together is intriguing and, in many ways, they each enhance the other and bring out common elements that might not otherwise be noticed.  In order to do that however, the performances have to be strong and consistent and that's one of Buxton's strong points.  Every element is in perfect accord with the other, the whole thing thoughtfully considered and presented in an ingenious stage design by Lez Brotherston that allows this cross-pollination to occur.  The musical interpretation under Stephen Barlow was absolutely marvellous, both works delivered with verve and character and sung magnificently by a very strong cast.

Undoubtedly however, the key to the success of bring these rather old-fashioned works to life lies with the direction of Francis Matthews.  Every movement and gesture, every line of dialogue and tone of delivery in the singing was used to bring out the full richness of the comic potential of the works and even finding unexpected depths by linking common themes between them.  Great works they are perhaps not, but this year's Festival Double Bill was a richly entertaining concoction and a showcase for the kind of talent that is a hallmark of the Buxton Festival.

Strauss - Intermezzo

Richard Strauss - Intermezzo

Buxton Festival, 2012

Stephen Barlow, Stephen Unwin, Janis Kelly, Stephen Gadd, Andrew Kennedy, Jonathan Best, Njabulo Madlala, Robert Poulton, Richard Roberts, Colin Brockie, Susanne Holmes, Martha McLorinan

Buxton Opera House - 13 July 2012

Intermezzo is, of course, an opera notoriously based on the real-life domestic circumstances of its composer Richard Strauss and his wife Pauline de Anha, a turbulent but happy marriage between two quite different personalities. The reason we know so much about the nature of their marriage is that Strauss depicted it in frank and some would say vulgar detail in his symphonies and in aspects of his operas. There’s no disguising the fact however that Intermezzo is unprecedented for the level of detail in which the composer’s domestic affairs, specifically two notable incidents, are exposed to the full view of the public. Whether the opera is vulgar or not is open to question and undoubtedly interpretation, but if there’s a case to be made for it, it was made here with the wonderful production at the 2012 Buxton Festival.

Coming after such important works as Salome, Elektra, Der Rosenkavalier and Die Frau ohne Schatten, Intermezzo can’t help but appear to be a minor work with a rather trivial subject unworthy of a composer of Strauss’s stature. A light comedy, a farce, a domestic drama of minor disputes and marriage difficulties, played out in short chapters like edited scenes from a movie (cinema an influence to some extent on the work, and reflected in the staging here), played out in music that accompanies and supports conversational arrangements rather than imposes its own expressive presence, Intermezzo hardly seems like a subject that would appeal to the lofty ambitions of Strauss’s regular librettist at this time Hugo von Hofmannstahl. Yet, in taking this unexpected direction with a new librettist, Strauss himself shows himself to be just as ambitious and willing to experiment with a subject and a style that is far from what is traditionally expected of an opera work.

Adapting to this new form, Strauss’s glorious compositions prove to be surprisingly musical and dramatic. It’s a typically detailed score from this composer, attuned to the smallest emotional gestures as well as to the broader ones called for by the farcical situations that ensue when Christine, the temperamental wife of a famous composer, Robert Storch (not much disguising of identities going on there), reads a love letter sent mistakenly to her husband and promptly, to the complete bewilderment and distress of Storch, sues for divorce. Working in another incident drawn from real-life where the lonely Christine - her husband frequently away working and conducting - is deceived about the nature of a friendship she strikes up with a young man who claims he is a baron, but is really looking for someone to pay his bills for him, Strauss balances our sympathies in his depiction of the complex and difficult personality of Christine with flashes of humour and compassion.

Despite the apparent triviality of the subject and autobiographical content that seems a little self-aggrandising - particularly in the manner in which it is richly scored here by Strauss - Intermezzo is by no means vulgar entertainment. It’s thanks to this work that we have real insight into the Strauss household, the personality, temperaments and the passions that fuel the composer’s work, but it’s not entirely self-regarding and self-important. These are fully-fleshed out characters, their personalities, whims, mannerisms and deeper natures expressed with tremendous skill by Strauss. The extraordinarily detailed score may be aligned with a very different kind of dramatic content to the classical subjects of earlier works - to humour, to flashes of wit, jealousy, rage, love and passion rather than the death lust of Salome or the revenge fantasies of Elektra, but really, the scoring is no less precisely nuanced. These are much more human emotions, glorified (perhaps more a little over-glorified) by Strauss’s perceptive, impressionistic swells and rhythms, but it’s honest, it’s witty, it’s human and it’s real.

It’s surprising then that Intermezzo is not more frequently performed on the stage, as it is undoubted much more of a theatrical work than is it musical. The fact that this theatrical conversational drama can come across with such musicality and works so well on the stage however depends entirely on the nature of the production, and in just about every respect, this Buxton Festival production was simply outstanding - fully aware of the potential of the piece and capable of putting it across. The stage design, the costumes and the direction were an absolute joy. Every single scene struck the exact right note, with simple sets that were nonetheless pinpointed with delightful period detail. There was also remarkable precision in the setting of tone and circumstance through the use of lighting, the drama able to slip between a drawing room and a brief encounter on a ski slope with barely a pause for the cinematic intertitles to indicate the scene change. Everything about Stephen Unwin’s direction was perfectly in line with Strauss’s score and the dramatic tone and intent of the work.

Even so, Intermezzo is a work that would still be rather difficult to pull off effectively were it not able to make the characters seem human and sympathetic. In this respect Janis Kelly was simply outstanding as Christine, a tremendously challenging role that despite the surface impression given is actually much warmer and human than just about any other character to be found in Strauss’s work. Utterly mesmerising, her attention to detail was evident not just in the terrific singing, but in her bearing and in the manner and timing of her delivery, which was that of a consummate actress. This was a delightful performance that drew all the potential out of the role, as well as giving something personal to it as well. Stephen Gadd was also exceptionally good as Robert Storch, similarly finding warmth and humour in the personality of the composer, singing the role well and in perfect accord with the performance of Janis Kelly. The two roles are the obviously the most vital, supported well by the reminder of the cast, all of them achieving a wonderful rapport with the fluid performance of the orchestra conducted by Stephen Barlow. Intermezzo was undoubtedly, the most accomplished achievement of this year’s Buxton Festival.