Thomas Linley, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Giovanni Paisiello, Martín y Soler, Stephen Storace, Georgiana Cavendish - Georgiana
Buxton International Festival, 2019
Mark Tatlow, Matthew Richardson, Samantha Clarke, Ben Hulett, Susanna Fairbairn, Olivia Ray, Geoffrey Dolton, Katherine Aitken, Aled Hall, Rhys Thomas
Buxton Opera House - 12th July 2019
"So modern so delightful, so daring so wicked. They'll all go to hell", the playwright Richard Sheridan and politician Charles James Fox observe as the scandal of the Georgiana Cavendish, the 5th Duchess of Devonshire captures the imagination of the gossiping public in 1782, and judging by the reception of Buxton Festival's new opera Georgiana, it still has the capacity of wickedness and daring to delight a modern audience. Particularly as it's a subject that is close to home in Buxton considering the importance of the Cavendish family to the Peak District spa town, making it an ideal subject for a new opera in the 40th year of the Buxton Festival.
Well, sort of new. Unless you want to go down the direction of Thomas Adès and his treatment of the scandal of the Duchess of Argyll in his daring opera Powder her Face, you'd like to keep the music as close to the period as possible. The idea of imitating or creating a pastiche of 18th century music isn't really a credible option, but who needs to when it's all already been written and there is already the convention of the pasticcio opera, making use of existing arias and pieces, cutting and pasting them from a variety of sources, making a patchwork of the best of the best.
The idea of a pasticcio or patchwork opera however gives the impression of something thrown together and nothing could be further from the truth about Georgiana. Instead of simply taking arias expressing generic sentiments and stitching them together with recitative to make a new variation of a typical baroque opera plot, Buxton's new Artistic Director Michael Williams has created a new libretto from a text by playwright Janet Plater and set it to a selection of period and dramatically appropriate music compiled by musical director Mark Tatlow. Rather than go for the obvious and familiar, Tatlow selects lesser known pieces by Thomas Linley (the "English Mozart" who died at the age of 22), Mozart, Giovanni Paisello, Martín y Soler, Stephen Storace and even a piece attributed to Georgiana Cavendish herself.
There's nothing here consequently that feels like it's been patched together. The music has a wonderful musical and dramatic consistency that flows marvellously and feels entirely 'new', perfectly suited to the period and the situations developed in the opera. The libretto too is a delight (modern, daring and wicked indeed enough to satisfy Fox and Sheridan), never feeling for forced or mannered, but clever and witty, capturing the nature of the characters and moving the drama along. There are a few nods and winks to the modern audience, such making fun of the absurd idea of Georgiana's lover Earl Charles Grey having a tea named after him, but there is never any sense of parody or making fun of the pasticcio.
Even the idea of establishing an appropriate tone has been carefully considered, aiming - ambitiously, but why not? - towards a two-act dramma giacoso in the style of Don Giovanni. Goodness knows there's enough scandalous affairs and outrageous behaviour in the life of Georgiana Cavendish, the opera in the first act covering her growing gambling debts kept secret from her husband, the ménage-á-trois relationship that scandalises the Ton High Society when Lady Bess Foster moves in with Georgiana and the Duke, and Georgiana's involvement in the political advancement of Charles Fox and her affair with Earl Grey. The first Act culminates in a typically Mozart farcical ensemble where Georgiana confesses that she is pregnant by Grey while Bess turns out to be pregnant at the same time by the Georgiana's husband the Duke of Devonshire.
The first half of the opera is an absolute delight, perfectly judged in terms of music and drama and superbly played by the musicians of the Northern Chamber Orchestra under Mark Tatlow, acted and sung with verve and flair by an exceptional cast. The handling of the material ensures that there's a perfect balance in the tone between the dramatic content and the characterisation of it, causing scandal on one side, delighting the likes of Fox and Sheridan with enough gossip to keep them in demand in society and in inspiration for plays, but also in the devil-may-care attitude of Georgiana and Bess, and the Duke too when he finds the arrangements rather to his liking.
The second half is no less fun, but the dramatic charge doesn't carry through quite as entertainingly and isn't quite as well-constructed. The idea of the Devonshires and the secrets of the parentage of their children provide more scandal and gossip, but it gets a little repetitive. Georgiana's debts continue to mount and she becomes ill and dies quite suddenly without there being much leading up to it. The variety of musical situations and the singing performances ensure however that interest never flags throughout.
Jon Morrell's set design and Matthew Richardson's direction also contributes to making sure that this is never anything less than marvellous entertainment. Set in the shape that suggests the famous Devonshire Dome, one of the great architectural creations in the town, or perhaps in the shape of the Crescent (currently being painstakingly restored, provoking an in-joke about when it will ever be finished), or made of stone from the town's famous quarries, it definitely resonated with a Buxton audience. It also had a simple beautiful elegance that perfectly matched the musical arrangements, with silhouette cut-outs and suitable props as required.
There was not a single compromise in the conception or execution of Georgiana, this was simply a superb new opera creation. The singing too was wise to the dramma giocoso nature of the work, finding a good balance between good-natured wicked comic caricature of Aled Hall's Fox and Geoffrey Dolton's Sheridan, and the rather more serious nature of Samantha Clarke's Georgiana with her enlightened liberal attitudes and lust for living that would inevitably lead to near-ruin and a tragic end. Ben Hulett's Duke of Devonshire was also notable for some fine singing. Everything about Georgiana just oozes classy, quality opera, and it surely deserves to reach a wider audience after this critically acclaimed opening at the Buxton Festival.
Links: Buxton International Festival
Erich Wolfgang Korngold - Die tote Stadt
RTÉ National Symphony Orchestra, 2019
Patrik Ringborn, John McKeown, Celine Byrne, Charles Workman, Ben McAteer, Katharine Goeldner, Julian Hubbard, Clare Presland, Susanna Fairbairn, Alan Leech
National Concert Hall, Dublin - 12 April 2019
You don't get many opportunities to see a Korngold opera in Ireland, so when even a concert performance of Die tote Stadt comes up it's an event that can't be missed. In fact, a concert version comes with the additional benefit of putting the orchestra up on the stage with the performers and when you have a master orchestrator like Korngold, even at 23 years old when he composed his most famous opera, you really get a unique chance to experience the intricacy, beauty and power of the work.
Like Debussy's Pelléas et Mélisande or Schreker's Die Gezeichneten, the lush orchestration of Korngold's Die tote Stadt has a dreamy seductive quality that when combined with the nightmarish qualities of a Symbolist-influenced text that has undertones of decay and decadence, creates an atmosphere of gathering unease. In Pelléas et Mélisande there's no musical way out of the nightmare and you remain trapped within it, with Die Gezeichneten the illusion eventually comes crumbling down, revealing the true horror underneath.
With Die tote Stadt ('The Dead City'), Korngold's orchestral crescendos are more ambiguous; in some way they seem to break the illusion, but in others, they just seem to enforce how strong the madness lies within Paul's delusion that his dead wife Marie has been revived, reincarnated or reproduced in some way in the form of Marietta.
That certainly came across forcefully in the performance of the RTÉ National Symphony Orchestra under the baton of the Swedish guest conductor, Patrik Ringborn. Not only did we have the luxury of hearing Die tote Stadt performed in all its glory in concert performance, but the performance was also able to take advantage of the National Concert Hall's pipe organ that emphasise the eerie climactic moments of mad love.
We were also fortunate that Celine Byrne and Julian Hubbard had extended their stay in Dublin after their stint on Madama Butterfly for Irish National Opera a few weeks ago, and having seen thought that both were phenomenal in that, a concert performance of Die tote Stadt was surely going to be a treat. And of course it was.
I hadn't realised how difficult a role Marietta is, or I had forgotten, but Celine Byrne demonstrated the kind of voice needed to not just reach and sustain its tricky heights and German cadences, but how important it is to bring an expressive lyricism to Marietta's predicament and a cool authority to the ghostly spirit and allure of Marie. Whether it's a more challenging role than Madama Butterfly or it's a case of different challenges that depend on voice type I'm no expert, but Byrne grew magnificently into the role, or perhaps it's Marietta who gradually grows and asserts her own personality away from the pull of Paul's dangerous obsession to transform her into a dead woman.
Whether I overlooked it or there was no information on the performers when I booked my ticket for this, I was delighted to find Charles Workman cast in the role of Paul. Workman is one of my favourite tenors in early twentieth-century repertoire of this kind, works like Jenůfa and Die Gezeichneten, and this is a gift of a role for him. With that lyrical voice he could just glide softly and beautifully around such lush orchestration, but he is more than capable of rising above it and against it with expression and force, particularly in the jarring behaviour of Paul. It's marvellous to hear him sing and perform in this context in a concert performance, and particularly when he is a perfect match for Celia Byrne. The duet between Paul and Marietta's (or is she the dead Marie in Paul's dream?) at the end of Act II was one of the highlights of the performance.
Also terrifically impressive in concert performance is Northern Ireland baritone Ben McAteer. His Frank provides a wonderful contrast and balance to the richness of the voices that accompany Korngold's orchestration. There was a wonderful clarity to Julian Hubbard's singing, although that fared better as Victorin from the front of the stage that trying to soar above the orchestra from the back of the choir as Gaston. Katharine Goeldner made Brigitta's role significant, and there was lovely support from Clare Presland, Susanna Fairbairn and Alan Leech as Marietta's lively singing colleagues, all contributing to the richness of the score, the performances and the surreal madness that Die tote Stadt is capable of attaining.
A live stream of this concert was recorded for RTÉ Lyric FM
Links: National Concert Hall
George Frideric Handel - Acis and Galatea
Opera Theatre Company, Dublin - 2017
Peter Whelan, Tom Creed, Susanna Fairbairn, Eamonn Mulhall, Edward Grint, Andrew Gavin, Peter O'Reilly, Sinéad O'Kelly, Fearghal Curtis, Cormac Lawlor
Opera Platform - 11 April 2017
It certainly comes as a bit of a surprise and does initially seem a little jarring to find the mythological content of Handel's pastoral opera Acis and Galatea located in a little provincial Irish pub. In the Opera Theatre Company's 2017 production, Handel's fable opens with the nymphs and shepherds coming in from the fields for a quick half and then changing out of their work clothes to take part in a line-dance hoedown.
It's certainly not the first image that comes to mind when you think of nymphs and shepherds in the bucolic setting of a pastoral opera, but there's ample justification for it. Checking the definition on Google, it says that a pastoral is a work that portrays an idealised version of country life, and when you put it like that and apply it to an Irish setting, the connection not only seems obvious in an equivalent modern context, but the way that the tale plays out in this setting also serves to touch on the true spirit of the piece.
This is always a key point when it comes to bringing Handel to the modern opera stage, particularly in those pieces that are more choral or oratorio in format like Acis and Galatea. It's essential not to ironically poke fun at the easy target of its idealised sentiments, but it doesn't serve the works particularly well either to play them in some kind of kitsch notion of traditional period that a modern audience will find impossible to respond to in the way that they might have 300 years ago.
On the other hand, the idea of idealisation is at the heart of Acis and Galatea, but to make it meaningful, there has to be some basis for it in reality. Tom Creed's Irish setting isn't just modernisation for the sake of being clever, it finds a way to touch more deeply on the sentiments at the heart of the work and bring that across to the audiences on the Opera Theatre Company's Irish tour. It does it so well that there's every reason to believe that it can communicate that to a wider audience in its streamed broadcast on the Opera Platform.
Adjusting expectations, bringing a clear head to lofty ideals and rushes of emotions is very much what Acis and Galatea is about, but it's also about transforming reality or creating something greater out of it. For the nymphs and shepherds, it's about celebrating the end of the day in a song and a dance (and maybe a drink or two). The semi-divine nymph Galatea (here a barmaid, much the same thing after that transformative drink or two) is troubled by the far too lofty ideals she holds in her love for the shepherd Acis, and it needs some helpful intervention from Damon to caution both of them to have a little more restraint.
The same goes for the monstrous ogre Polyphemus (here a belligerent drunk), who thinks he can gain the love of Galatea by force. Again, Damon suggests that a more gentle approach might win a fair maid ("Would you gain the tender creature"). The reaction of Acis is perhaps over-solicitous ("Love sounds th' alarm") and again he is cautioned to be more moderate in his behaviour ("Consider, fond shepherd, how fleeting's the pleasure that flatters our hopes in pursuit of the fair"). It's to no avail, as an inebriated Polyphemus staggers in and clobbers him with a brick to the head ("crushed beneath a stone") in a barroom brawl.
Acis and Galatea is not just a morality tale that warns of giving excessive licence to the sentiments, it's more about recognising them - good and bad - and being able to transform them into something more noble. In this way, humans can aspire towards the divine, and even in death Acis is transformed into a fountain. Tom Creed's handling of this vital scene is critical to the success of the production and its overall message. The flashing lights of the emergency services outside the bar, the ambulance men working on the fatally injured man in the foreground all hit home the reality of the death of Acis, while the 'fountain' supplies his friends with a drink to his memory, the commemoration of which will hopefully serve to transform the lives of others.
Music and opera is also an essential element of the transformative experience, turning stories of love and tragedy into something instructive and ennobling, and that's where Handel comes in. Musically, Acis and Galatea is one of the composer's most beautiful works, all its richness compressed into a short work that if filled with memorable melodies and songs. In the context of the performance by the Irish Baroque Orchestra conducted by Peter Whelan, some of the flute playing even delightfully evokes a sense of traditional folk music, cementing the connection between the mythology and its relocation perfectly.
Paul O'Mahony's revolving set provides a lovingly detailed Irish pub interior, exterior and backroom for the cast to move about and give far more expression than you might expect from a work with little dramatic playing. The cast all take their roles well, with a soft gentleness of expression that is perfect for the overall sentiments of the work and its more down-to-earth reduction of the choral parts. Andrew Gavin's Damon is the gentle spirit of temperance that tries to moderate Edward Grint's Polyphemus - played perfectly as more of an awkward drunken fool than an evil monster. Susanna Fairbairn's Galatea and Eamonn Mulhall's Acis bring the same kind of measured dynamic to those roles, keeping them grounded in the realism that the production strives to achieve, while still matching the opera's aspirations to create something greater.
