After last year’s Don Giovanni I should have been prepared for the inanities of Daniel Slater’s approach to Mozart’s Die Entfuhrung aus dem Serail but even I found it difficult to believe one could treat a work with such disdain.  Refusing to trust the music or the characterisation, the evening is full of ‘ideas’ which work against the emotional truth we experience if we simply close our eyes. That the soloists were, for the most part, so good, made it all the more upsetting. Rebecca Nelson has the measure of Konstanze but was required to do such inept things during her long arias that it was surprising she was able to complete them. Ensembles held up well and the brief chorus numbers were bright and effective as long as one was not looking. That the audience generally seemed to find the whole thing hilarious, even the underground torture chamber, I found disturbing. Needless to say, Mozart’s ideas of compassion, generosity and steadfast love had no place in this concoction.

I note that Daniel Slater is to direct Janacek’s The cunning little vixen for Garsington next year. It is a work I love; I will not be there. BH

Rossini’s opera seria have yet to regain a regular place in the operatic canon, with the exception of William Tell. Garsington Opera have done sterling work to redress the balance and the new production of Maometto secondo will certainly add fuel to the fire. There are so many revolutionary ideas within the score that it is difficult to believe it was written in 1820. The first act in particular regularly sounds like Verdi or even early Wagner in the dramatic intensity of the writing and the ability to shape long paragraphs of seamless music. That there was no applause during act one was not a result of poor musicianship – which was thrilling throughout – but a lack of any gaps to enable us to applaud. The doomed Anna is one of long line of nineteenth century heroines who have to choose between love and duty. Her final suicide is tragic not only because of her individual loss but the loss to society which is un-necessarily polarised. Edward Dick’s production faces the racial and religious tensions full on, creating credible characters none of whom are simplistic or two-dimensional. Paul Nilon’s weak, vacillating governor, prone to turn to his hip flask at moments of crisis, is no match for the macho strength of Darren Jeffery’s Maometto. Anna is torn between her earlier infatuation with Maometto, who she had known as Umberto, and her growing relationship with Caitlin Hulcup’s bookish Calbo. The whole situation is doomed from the start and all we can do is watch it unfold.

However, along the way, there is so much glorious music, wonderfully sung, that the length of the opera is never a problem. As noted the first act contains some of Rossini’s finest choral writing, while solos lift effortlessly from the narrative. If the second act is rather more conventional it contains a number of block-buster arias to thrill any audience.

David Parry’s keeps the musical line tightly under control and his players give rich and colourful support throughout. The chorus – the men in particular – cover themselves in praise. I heard rumour that the production might be recorded – I do hope so. BH

Humperdinck’s opera has been given a wide range of treatment in recent years, from the mythic to the highly contemporary. It is a great strength of Olivia Fuchs’ approach that she trusts the narrative itself but is aware of its fairy-tale origins. Niki Turner’s set places the action on a giant story book, with pop up houses, sinister figures and black suited angels, all within a skeletal beech wood. Yet within this setting the characters are convincingly naturalistic. The parents are dysfunctional; there is nothing comic about the father’s drunkenness or the mother’s suicidal tendencies. Only nature can be trusted, the animals in the forest becoming benign and supportive to the lost children.

If this sounds as though the approach was over-serious it was anything but, with a great deal of real humour, though never at the expense of individual characters.

At the heart of the interpretation are Hansel and Gretel themselves. Anna Devin’s Gretel is superb, a convincingly young girl in her gaucheness and naivety, but with a voice to charm and an openness of heart which was captivating. It is she – more than Claudia Huckle’s tom-boyish Hansel – who wins the day. William Dazeley’s Father is dangerously inept. On a good day, having sold his brooms, all is well but one could easily imagine how dysfunctional he would become if even more drunk than he was on this occasion. It was telling that he had not sobered up even when his children have overcome the evil in the forest. A fine characterisation and a good foil to Yvonne Howard’s equally weak and dysfunctional mother. By comparison Susan Bickley’s witch is all sweetness and light; a vision in pink to go with her sweeties. That the children take to her after the rigours of home life is credible; that Gretel is rapidly aware of the danger even more so given her up-bringing. In this case nature is far more important than nurture.

Martin Andre’s orchestra sounded slightly thinner, more muscular than usual in the first half but seemed more robust and romantic in the second. The children’s chorus was delightful and utterly convincing.

On the night we visited, the performance was being relayed live to Scarborough, and we had an introduction by Sir Terry Wogan live from the stage. Unfortunately, after two nights of glorious weather it was raining heavily – but such are the delights of English Summer Opera. BH