The Dome, Brighton, 1 December 2019

Interesting programming for this concert brought us five shortish works instead of the standard overture/concerto/symphony. It also showcased (again) a select group of BPO string players with five wind players in a chamber-sized  orchestra. This presumably helps to keep costs down for an orchestra which, sadly, seems to have problems although on this occasion nine hundred of the Dome’ 1700 seats were sold and there were a pleasing number of families with children in the audience.

Natalie Murray-Beale is an authoritative conductor whose incisive fluidity of movement is fetchingly charismatic to watch. She worked without baton for the three eighteenth century works but used one for both Vaughan Williams pieces.

We began with Hadyn’s Symphony No 49 which provided plenty of languorous F minor in the opening Adagio. Although I admired the lushness of the string playing I found the Allegro a bit heavy and there was little sense of dance in the rather turgid Minuet. It picked up, however, when we reached the lively Presto of the fourth movement.

Five Variants of “Dives and Lazarus” is one of Vaughan William’s loveliest short works and I’m always at a loss to understand why it isn’t performed more often. Does the Biblical title put people off? BPO’s wistful account of it, with beautiful harp work, was one of the high spots of this concert.

The harmonics are the great strength of Lark Ascending and violinist Thomas Gould made them sound effortlessly, mysteriously melodious. The orchestral accompaniment was sensitively managed and the performance felt like a real conversation between soloist and ensemble.

After the interval we had Eine Kline Nachtmusik which rarely fails and certainly didn’t on this occasion because Murray-Beale brought out all its joyful elegance. And although it was the best known work on the programme it seemed young and fresh.

Then it was back to more minor key Haydn – Symphony No 45 in F# Minor. I suspect it was slightly under rehearsed (The downside of doing five stylistically different works in a single concert?) because each of the four movements opened raggedly, settling only after a few bars. Nonetheless it was great fun to see the Farewell Symphony acting out the story of its first performance when each player left the stage after finishing his bit as a hint to Prince Esterhazy that they wanted some time off. BPO players solemnly gathered up glasses and instruments and walked off stage, one by one, the focus of the lights narrowing until it was eventually resting on the two remaining violinists.

A pleasant afternoon’s music on the whole with plenty to enjoy.

Susan Elkin

Mote Hall, Maidstone, Saturday 30 November 2019

It was obviously disappointing that John Lill, the Society’s President, was unable to perform Brahms’ Second Piano Concerto but there could surely be no complaints about the barn-storming reading of Tchaikovsky’s First Piano Concerto which Alexander Ullman gave us. With the orchestra on fine form, they seemed to galvanise each other in a way which was highly exhilarating as well as musically impressive. In the opening movement, Alexander Ullman had an aggressive edge to his playing, with snapped phrases and real attack. If there was a greater sense of lightness in the slow movement, the centre section came across as skittishly improvisatory – a real skill in itself. The easy flowing melodic lines of the finale build with fire and resolution to a magnificent climax which was, understandably, received with an outpouring of applause and cheering.

Not that the first half of the evening had been unimpressive. It opened with a fiery, hard-driven, reading of Beethoven’s Overture to Fidelio. Brian Wright seems to like driving his players hard and this was a good example of the quality it can arouse. The other main work was Schumann’s Fourth Symphony. If this seems very Brahmsian, which it does, it is more likely that Brahms is learning from the older composer, and a close friend to boot, than the other way round. Brian Wright ensured that the work ran through as a continuous whole, moving seamlessly across the many shifts in tone and texture, to say nothing of the melodic developments. That the final movement is little more, technically, than a shift into the major is a sign of Schumann’s mastery of orchestration by the time he came to revise the work. It blazed with authority, the trumpets giving us a real thrill as the climax approached, and the horns – now well focussed – warmed the final pages.

We have to wait until the new-year for the next concert on 1 February which brings us works by Britten, Weber, Malcolm Arnold and Elgar.

St George’s Church, Kemp Town, Brighton

One of those shows which you can’t pigeonhole neatly, Clare Norburn’s thoughtful, intelligent Creating Carmen is part play, part concert and part discursive essay. And it makes for a pretty riveting evening.

Bizet’s famous 1875 masterpiece was based on a novella by Prosper Merimee published thirty years earlier. Norburn presents the author (Robin Soans) in his study neurotically trying to retain control of his creation, a sexily exotic gypsy named Carmen (in the form of Suzanne Ahmet)  as she  taunts, haunts, cajoles and controls him.  He is variously rueful, irascible, annoyed and troubled because the book is not going as he wants it to. We are led to reflect on the process of a writer’s art and to ask who is creating whom. The wittiest moment – in a piece which is full of cleverness and ingenuity – comes near the end when Merimee has decided she must die and stabs her. It doesn’t work and when she moves we see that he has been trying to stab her in the back with his pen.

The underlying dramatic irony is that the play assumes that everyone in the room knows about Bizet’s opera but, of course, Merimee doesn’t. His creation tells him it will happen but he refuses to believe her. “Someone beginning with B” she tells him at one point. “Not that dreadful friend of Delacroix, Berlioz?” he replies. In the end she mentions Bizet but tells Merimee not to worry about it because at the moment the composer is still only a child of seven.

And then of course there’s the music which is, effectively, the leading character in the drama. The piece, which is touring, was commissioned by CarmenCo, a trio consisting of husband and wife Emily Andrews (flute and mezzo soprano) guitarist Francesco Correa with guitarist David Massey. The quality of the playing – which ranges from Carmen itself to arrangements of  de Falla, Roderigo, Ravel, Roderigo and more is exquisite. Massey’s solo work is show-stopping and I loved the arrangement for two guitars and flute of de Falla’s La Vida Breve.

Emily Andrews sings several Carmen numbers in role as the musical Carmen of the future. Clearly a multi-talented performer, as well as being a fine flautist she has a rich mezzo voice and a great deal of dramatic presence – along with a rare gift of blankness when she is simply sitting aside the action holding her flute. She’s no slouch on castanets either.

All the music is played off-book so there’s an unusual sense of cohesion as these three players communicate continuously with each other with eyes and bodies. The result is a delightfully warm, intimate sound.

Directed by Nicholas Renton and lit by Natalie Roland this interesting production sat neatly in front of the altar in the

Georgian elegance of St George’s Church, Kemp Town in Brighton. The chancel step provided a quasi-natural raised area and the use of candles felt absolutely right. That and  the warm acoustic made the music as atmospheric – a Frenchman dreaming of Spain –  as it could possibly be.

Susan Elkin

London Coliseum, 15 November 2019

Saving the best till last? It certainly felt like it on the first night of Orphee with a buzz of excitement which I don’t recall for any of the other evenings – even allowing for Swarovski! ENO have had great success with Philip Glass productions and justifiably so given the quality of the teams involved and the enthusiastic audiences. That Orphee joins that elite group is almost certain given not only the enthusiasm of the reception last night but the quality of the work itself. Though Netia Jones’ production works on a very different scale with a concentration on intimate relationships rather than vast effects, the narrative unfolds within a void of huge constantly moving slabs and projections which reflect mental states rather than actual places. At the same time virtually every scene is in motion as furniture moves discreetly across the stage as scenes unfold. It is disquieting and rightly so as many of the characters are dead yet indistinguishable from the living.

Philip Glass bases his opera very closely on Jean Cocteau’s film though the nearest we get to Cocteau himself is on a TV screen before it starts. From then on it is Glass’ realisation of the action which overrides memories of Cocteau, with the score itself providing underpinning emotional support. This is unexpectedly true in the second half where the music is often highly lyrical and romantic. There is almost a love duet for Orphee and the Princess, with a real warmth within the minimalist line.

Jennifer France is outstanding as the Princess. On almost the whole time, her strength of personality as well as her passionate singing, galvanise the whole evening. She is splendidly supported by Nicholas Lester as Orphee and Nicky Spence as Heurtebise. Sarah Tynan has a more difficult role as Eurydice as it is clear Orphee is so self-orientated he has little time for her – or anyone else. She comes across with sensitivity but the pink designs make it all too clear she is little more than the token wife as far as Orphee’s self-importance is concerned.

Lizzie Clachan’s designs for all four Orpheus productions have proved impressive and here are admirably slotted into the video design by Netia Jones.

Geoffrey Paterson conducts with easy grace always allowing the singers to communicate.

Of the four Orpheus works we have seen, this is the one I suspect which will last the longest.

London Coliseum, 13 November 2019

Harrison Birtwistle has never been an easy composer but equally has always been worth making the effort to engage with the complexities he creates. There can few works more complex than The Mask of Orpheus which not only has multiple versions of the same character but refuses to provide simple dialogue, so that one is frequently involved in simply going along with the production rather than trying to work out at any one moment what is actually happening. In this light Daniel Kramer’s production was either magnificent or counter-productive, and for my part I tend to think this is the finest work he has done for the company. Rather than trying to smooth out the complexities he allows them to pile up on themselves to the point of confusion, both for those of us watching and for the characters we are watching.

With three Orpheus, three Eurydice and three Aristaeus, who inter-act with each other as well as their own obvious partners, there is a continuing dichotomy for the audience, working out who to pay attention to or who to regard as the more important at any one time. As such it is uncomfortably lifelike. The frustrations of day-to-day living are here given a mystical level but one we can empathise with even given the excessively heightened presentation.

On one level the narrative is naturalistically set, within a large 1970s/80s apartment, but as soon as the glass tank drifts in with the mime artists, and the grandiose costuming of the mythical characters we are aware this is anything but natural.

Nothing is explained and by the end we are none the wiser, unless it is having experienced the story cathartically, which is surely more than enough.

Musically this is finest thing we have heard so far this season with the orchestra on exceptional form for all the demands of the score, under its two conductors – Martyn Brabbins and James Henshaw effectively working back to back. The integration of electronic music with the live musicians is finely balanced and the links are invisible.  The large cast are drawn from strength with Peter Hoare a moving Orpheus the Man. The choreography by Barnaby Booth is always closely related to the dramatic needs of the scene rather than being dance for its own sake. The video design is apt and never intrusive.

Though realistically the production is unlikely to be revived it is a pity because it was certainly well attended and ENO should be mounting more works like this rather than yet another – dare I say – Carmen.

London Coliseum, 9 November 2019

For a production that has been around since the mid-1980s Jonathan Miller’s Mikado is vibrant, fresh and fun. Elaine Tyler-Hall has clearly made an accomplished job of reviving it.

So what distinguishes it? The traditional trappings have gone and we’re in a 1930s hotel although the material is so strong it really doesn’t matter where you set it. It’s a visual feast of black and white and it is a feat of directorial genius to have a troop of twelve dancers in addition to the singing chorus because it enables all sorts of sparky choreography with the tap dancing in both finales being a real tour de force.

Interestingly though, Gilbert’s libretto is almost intact with only very minor adjustments such as the substitution of a “slow suburban” train for the now meaningless parliamentary one. In general it’s still as funny as it ever was and it’s good to see that respected. It’s also pleasing to hear people, who presumably aren’t particularly familiar with the piece, laughing not just at performers doing clever things but at Gilbert’s wit.

Richard Suart is back in harness writing a new “Little List” for every performance and of course it’s a show stopper. He knows how to squeeze every ounce of humour from every nuanced word of the rest of his part too and looks suitably absurd with that floppy back wig centrally parted. John Tomlinson looks suitably tyrannical in a colonial white suit and Panama hat, his enormous stature dwarfing everyone on stage. His gravelly bass voice is just the job too.

There are no weak links among the principals – this is ENO after all – but I think it’s the quality of the choral singing which really makes this production stand out. Every note of the harmony is gloriously incisive and resonant.

It’s also a joy to hear Sullivan played by such a large and competent pit band (Conductor: Chris Hopkins) which brings out the musical jokes as well as playing the whole score beautifully. I was also delighted to be allowed to listen to the overture properly too, without the visual trappings most directors seem to clutter it up with too.

As a production, the performance I saw was hugely enjoyable but not flawless. Because Richard Suart has to read his List – or at least consult his notes – presumably because he hasn’t had time to learn it, he and the orchestra were seriously out of sync. There were timing problems in The Mikado’s song too and in one or two other places. These are very minor gripes though. It’s a magnificent show.

Susan Elkin

London Coliseum, 8 November 2019

There will many of us who can still remember the Sadlers Wells Orpheus with Eric Shilling as Jupiter. It is not just an old man’s memory to say it still lives on in its froth and vitality – the very facets this new ENO staging seems to lack. Only Alex Otterburn’s wonderfully effusive Pluto comes anywhere near the enthusiasm and level of communication the work needs if it is to succeed. This is not to say it is poorly sung. Much of the musical side is fine with Mary Bevan a beautiful Eurydice and Alan Oke splendid in the small but essential role of John Styx. But Emma Rice’s staging tries too hard and seems to consistently miss the mark.  The vast 1930s swimming pool set in the first half inhibits movement, reducing singers to constantly climbing up and down stairs, while the chorus mooch about in a straight line across the front. Any sense of character development or relationship is only primitively sketched in. The newly adapted text is often quite witty, particularly in the hands of Alex Otterburn, but the approach fails to hang together to create of pleasing whole.

Stalwarts of the quality of Willard White, Anne-Marie Owens and Judith Howarth are wasted when they are given so little to do, or what they do do seems inappropriate. Unusually, Sian Edwards conducting seemed often on the pedestrian side where it could have been uplifting. It was not simply the tempi, which were fine, but a lack of dynamism.

Now midway through the Orpheus cycle we have had one dubious and one disappointment. Let us hope the Birtwhistle and Glass can make up for it.

Glyndebourne Tour: Marlowe Theatre, Canterbury

Last month my granddaughter, aged 8, saw this production at Glyndebourne. It was her first opera but she was well prepared because the company had done some outreach work in her Brighton primary school (Hurrah!). She was thrilled with the production and having now seen it I can see why. It is huge fun and immaculately well staged and sung.

The oblique frontage to Adina’s house provided by Les Brotherston’s set leaves plenty of room to accommodate the large and fine chorus which Donizetti’s score makes more use of than earlier composers such as Mozart.

Nardus Williams is terrific as the attractive but hard-to-get Adina wanted in marriage by two men, one of whom is a cad (Matthew Durkan – good) and the other is clearly the one she should have (Sehoon Moon of whom more anon). Her top notes soar, her emotional control is excellent and her duets are delightful.

Moon (tenor) is boyish and very appealing dramatically. And his last famous aria, over harp and clarinet, just before Adina finally sees sense is the showstopper it should be. All in all his is a very memorable performance.

Also outstanding is Misha Kiria as the Dr Dulcamara – all those fabulous bass patter songs unfurled at high speed with clarity and insouciant panache. He looks comical too because he dwarfs everyone else.

Much of this performance reminded me of a comment made by Michael Berkeley in his recent Private Passions with psychotherapist, Philippa Perry on Radio 3. He explained to her that traditionally, before the mid nineteenth century, almost every emotion in opera was expressed in a vibrant 3/4 rhythm, (oom-pa-pa). This show is almost a case study to prove his point which is partly why it swings along so cheerfully.

I was delighted to see lots of very engaged school parties at the matinee I attended. Ironically what, I suspect, most of them will remember most is the performance by mime artist, Maxine Nourissat as Dr Dulcamara’s assistant, Puck to the other man’s Oberon. It’s a non-singing part but he commands the stage for every second he’s on it whether he’s dancing, prancing, twitching, gesturing, “talking” with his very expressive hands or twirling an umbrella in the colours of the Italian flag.

Susan Elkin