Barbican Hall, 23 November 2013

The BBC’s Britten anniversary celebrations have brought us some highly impressive events but surely none as joyful as this staging of Albert Herring. Announced as semi-staged, this could mean anything from soloists moving about with scores in their hands to something which could easily transfer to a small theatre without anybody noticing the difference.

In the event, Kenneth Richardson’s approach was full of intimate details and subtle character references which drew strength from working around the ensemble under Steuart Bedford rather than ignoring it. Albert’s slightly inebriated stroll from one side of the platform to the other seemed confused, if eventually pleased, to come upon an orchestra on his travels and delighted to find the shop bell above the piano.

The cast were drawn from strength and all outstanding. There was an unexpected frisson with Lady Billows in the second act when we hear the Tristan music. The last time I recall hearing Christine Brewer in this hall was as Isolde! Her Lady Billows grew in pomposity and strength as the evening progressed and Albert’s stand-off at the end was certainly not the last they would hear from her. Catherine Wyn-Rogers was very much her equal as Albert’s mum, and one could see how supressed not only Albert but the rest of society was with such formidable women in control.

Under the circumstances Roderick Williams’ Rev Gedge is a master of diplomacy, saving the day again and again in the face of near disaster.

Sid and Nancy, Marcus Farnsworth and Kitty Whately, are the nearest thing Britten created to a normal heterosexual couple whose future one can believe in, and they sparred magnificently even as they plotted.

The children were splendid, led by Gillian Keith’s Miss Wordsworth who implied a stronger character than is often the case, but having to stand up to Lady Billows and the formidable Florence Pike of Gaynor Keeble it was no wonder.

Andrew Staples is a very subtle Albert. He starts quietly and gently, not so much under mum’s thumb as happy to know his place, but the act one solo indicates his frustration and this builds slowly but menacingly as the evening proceeds. His reluctance to join the party and to follow what is going on was totally convincing, as was his reply after all the gushing nonsense which he had been forced to sit through. It was almost as if he was playing them at their own game. The final scene made it clear that for this young man there was no going back, whatever that meant in terms of his own sexuality.

The musicians on stage created the glorious mirage that Britten requires, frequently sounding far richer than a mere twelve instruments, while Steuart Bedford held everything together as if it was all in a day’s work – the quintessence of professionalism. As this went out live on Radio3 let us hope the recording becomes available soon. BH

photos: BBC Mark Allan

London Coliseum 20 November 2013

Few modern operas have had three revivals within six years but ENO had no hesitation mounting a revival of Philip Glass Satyagraha. If anything, the work grows more impressive with familiarity, and the revival directors have certainly not lost any of its impact since the last time it was staged. Where the large puppets and the massively staged scenes caught the attention when first seen, it was the more reflective scenes that made a positive impression on this occasion. The simplicity of the Indian Opinion scene, with its swirling newsprint and a life lifting out of nothing was deeply moving, as was the gently authoritative burning of the identity cards.

Alan Oke returned as Gandhi, a part with which he is now almost synonymous, and his mellifluous tones convinced throughout. Sarah Pring made a strong impression as Mrs Alexander, one of the few scenes which had a direct narrative line. Phelim McDermott’s approach to the work seemed to some to be over-fussy when new in 2007 but it has aged well and lost none of its impact.

Musically Stuart Stratford held his forces together with skill, any tiny slips being rapidly mopped up in a score which has more pitfalls than a more conventional opera. The chorus were in fine form and are frequently required to create a sense of stillness and calm which is quite different from simply not moving – a feat which they brought off with aplomb.

There are five more performances – details from www.eno.org

 Royal Albert Hall, 10 November 2013

Fifty years ago there might have been some concerns raised if Britten’s War Requiem had been performed on Remembrance Sunday. Doubts were voiced about its pacifist overtones and the mixture of war poetry with the Latin mass upset some listeners.

It is difficult to empathise with those views today, particularly when the work is as smoothly and poignantly performed as it was last night.

Rather than the juxtaposition of verse and mass setting, it was the seamless flow from one to the other which impressed. The long passage running from Be slowly lifted up through the Lacrimosa to Move him into the sun had an inevitability and pain to it which was heart-stopping.

Moreover, the text carried with a clarity rarely heard when the work is performed in a cathedral. Allan Clayton’s tenor solos cut like steel through the vast spaces of the hall and his hushed delivery of One ever hangs was as fine as one could imagine. Roderick Williams characterised the more overt poems with skill and was very moving when he came to I am the enemy you killed my friend.

Sabina Cvilak has the top for the soprano part but her placing by the organ made her rather too distant. Recalling the cutting edge of Galina Vishnevskaya, one was aware of that Britten was writing for a more forceful voice.

The Crouch End Festival Chorus joined the BBC Symphony Chorus, both in fine voice and obviously enjoying the work. The boys of Westminster Abbey sang well but seemed a little too distant, the altos almost disappearing at times. Semyon Bychkov kept all his forces under sensitive control and the chamber orchestra had real bite.

A memorable performance and a fine tribute for Remembrance Day. BH

Bristol Hippodrome, 6-8 November 2013

A Tudor Ring Cycle? Well not quite, but at over ten hours of music across three evenings it makes for far more than a loosely connected series. Essential to the approach is Madeleine Boyd’s design. A black box, redolent of the RSC in the early seventies, focusses all the attention upon the singers. Costumes, again mostly in black, remove any sense of chocolate-box Tudor or of uncomfortable comparisons with actual history. Alastair Miles’ Enrico is straight out of Game of Thrones rather than any pseudo-naturalistic sixteenth century epic.

At the heart of all three operas is Elisabetta, the Queen, who appears in Anna Bolena in the opening moments as a baby and whose cot is on stage virtually the whole evening. It is she who will become the protagonist of the following two works and it was a stroke of genius by director Alessandro Talevi to make the baby a key element in the opening opera of the trilogy.

The chorus seem to be ever present, making many of the scenes uncomfortably public, and the high orchestra pit (in fact in Bristol there isn’t one!) makes the orchestral sound under Daniele Rustioni’s lively baton even crisper.

The emotional tension of the evening is never allowed to wane even when the musical line appears to be lighter in tone. The overture may seem closer to Rossini than later Verdi, yet there are hints of anger and explosions of brass which prefigure what is to come. Serena Farmocchia’s Anna is distraught from the start, and only during the final mad scene does she show any sense of lightness or the earlier calm which drew her to Enrico in the first place. Robert McPherson has the high tessitura for Percy, but also the sensitivity to convey the constant shifts in emotion. Katherine Goeldner’s Giovanna is equally torn between her love for Enrico (difficult to understand given his characterisation) and her feelings for her friend Anna. Both women developed as the evening progressed and their final long duet was very moving. If Enrico’s authoritarian violence is the key to the work, he does not have the last word. In a blaze of red silk, Anna performs a mad scene and coda which is as formidable as the demise of Dido or Brunnhilde.  Serena Farmocchia had saved the best to last and convinced us not only that this is a magnificent work, but the final scene is one of the greatest from the belcanto repertoire.

With Maria Stuarda we are demonstrably in the same world if now a generation on. Elisabetta is as vicious and nasty as her father, and is surrounded by a court as suspicious and ever-present. But there is some change. Where earlier there had been a connection to the outside world, now we have two small chambers, cells almost, back to back, endlessly circling one another. Each is the prison for a queen, for Elisabetta is as much a prisoner as Maria. In the opening act there is little sympathy for either woman. They are as arrogant and dismissive of would be supporters as each other. The confrontation of the queens towards the end of act one is a marvellous piece of writing, but as we have little sympathy for either it fails to make a great deal of impact. Only in act two does Maria begin to gain our emotional interest as she moves inevitably towards her death. In Rudolf Frey’s production Talbot – the ever reliable Alastair Miles – becomes her father confessor and confidant, convincingly so in the final scene. The great prayer in act two becomes the climax of the evening, and even Roberto’s suicide does not eclipse it.

If the final moments do not quite succeed this is only because the revolve could not whisk the execution away fast enough.

Adina Nitescu has a large, powerful voice but displayed little subtlety as Elisabetta. There was no sense of a human being learning as events unfold and she seemed as two-dimensional at the end as at the start. By contrast Judith Howarth’s Maria slowly unfolds before us, becoming a genuinely tragic figure as she goes to her death. Ignore history, this is a convincing portrayal of a woman out of her depths within political intrigue. Bruce Sledge’s Roberto is probably the most sympathetic character before us but as with Maria has a world against him.

Orchestra and chorus under Graeme Jenkins were in fine, brisk form, making much of the opportunities Donizetti provides for them.

There may be only a few years between Anna Bolena and Roberto Devereux but the change in musical style is marked. Where much of the earlier work could be taken for Rossini, in Devereux we are distinctly Verdian. Nottingham’s great aria and his later scene with Sarah could comfortably sit in any early or mid-period Verdi opera, and were finely sung by David Kempster and Leah-Marian Jones. Moreover, the work really does make sense as the culmination of a trilogy, not thought-through in the way of the Ring Cycle but psychologically apt as we see Elisabetta progress from bastard child, through ranting autocrat to near-insane tarantula trying to control the world around her even as she withers towards death.

Alexandra Deshorties gave probably the best performance of the week as Elisabetta, her ferocity and power equalling her thrilling coloratura. Wearing what appeared to be the tattered remnants of the dress her mother wore to the scaffold, she reduces the authority of a queen to the emotions of a love-sick school-girl and drags the world down with her.

The image of the tarantula is telling. Potentially highly dangerous, it can only survive if fed from outside and kept in cocooned captivity, like the queen herself.

Leonardo Capalbo’s Roberto is equally a fish out of water, surrounded by courtiers who have been there from the start and will continue once Elisabetta has died. His vocal heroism was convincing but he stood no chance within the subtle politics around him.

As on all three evenings the chorus was not only in fine voice but an ever-present threat to wayward individuals. Daniele Rustioni was very obvious in the shallow pit and was clearly enjoying himself as he guided his forces to ever greater intensity.

The experiment of staging the trilogy may not have brought the audiences or financial results it deserved, but those of us who experienced it are all very grateful for the opportunity which I suspect will not come again. BH