Garsington Opera, Wormsley, 27 June 2017

A very wet evening seemed quite appropriate for Debussy’s only opera, the downpour reflecting the decaying splendour of the palace within which the action unfolds in Michael Boyd’s lucid presentation. More than anything else it was the clarity of the text which impressed and the refusal to try to explain what Maeterlinck wished to remain mysterious. We were constantly challenged to try to understand relationships which were elusive and shifting before our eyes.

In this Paul Gay’s Golaud was masterly. His gruff exterior seemed to hide an emotional core which never quite makes sense of his situation, to the point where even the death of Pelleas and Melisande lay outside of his understanding.

Andrea Carroll’s Melisande is probably the most enigmatic I can recall, the voice radiant yet the character always distant and reserved. Even at the end we have very little understanding of who or what she is. If Jonathan McGovern’s heroically sung Pelleas is more straightforward, his emotional understanding is complex and his relationship to Melisande always tentative, even in their final scene.

Brian Bannatyne-Scott brings dignity to Arkel and William Davies’ Yniold is given much more to do than normal. His finding of the crown in the second act is convincing if sinister, and his dragging off of Melisande’s soaking dress, impressive.

In the pit, the Philharmonia Orchestra more than justify their new relationship with the company. The sound is glorious and the interludes in particular had a lucidity and body to them which radiated throughout the house. Jac van Steen’s approach to the score was equally fluid, with attention to detail and phrasing always impressive.

Pelleas is not an easy work, either to stage or for the audience. It does not seem an obvious summer festival choice, yet it was more than vindicated here. Let us hope that this new approach from Garsington is the start of a long and fruitful collaboration.

Garsington Opera at Wormsley, 15 June 2017

Charles Jennens dismissed Semele as a Bawdatorio and, despite the ravishing beauty of so much of the score, it has never quite entered the repertoire in the same way as Caesar or Ariondante. A surprise really when it so easily lends itself to a wide range of visual interpretations while the characters have an emotional depth which is equal to any of Handel’s other operas – but then of course the argument rises as to whether this is opera or oratorio. Opera may be allowed to be morally dubious, but oratorio is expected to be far more straight-laced. The key seems to lie with the organ. Oratorios are led from the organ; operas from the harpsichord. Semele has both and they were used with admirable tact under Jonathan Cohen’s light touch from the pit. This was Handel at his most entertaining. The relationships may be serious but Annilese Miskimmon’s production treads a fine line between fantasy and reality. The opening wedding scene could be any country house celebration, until the gods literally intervene and Semele is whisked off to a heavenly palace.

There are many telling details. Juno’s trail of small girls is a constant delight and never overused. The tiny golden Bacchus at the any is charming, all the more so as the children were clearly related to the adult cast. The chorus are a great strength throughout and their movement was tellingly choreographed by Sarah Fahie.

There were no weak points in the casting and Heidi Stober radiated as Semele, her rendition of Endless pleasure and Myself I shall adore becoming genuine showstoppers. Robert Murray gave us an old rue as Jupiter, pulling out all the stops for Where’er you walk and handling the many pyrotechnics with aplomb. Jurgita Adamonyte’s Ino was able to turn the humour on herself without any sense of humiliation, and David Soar’s Somnus had the gravely bass the part requires while hinting at the sort of lustful reserves Jennens found so objectionable.

Of all Handel’s stage works – and this surely demands to be staged – this can seem the most contemporary and certainly Garsington have highlighted its very many strengths.

Hackney Empire, 9 June 2017

If this was not quite ENO on the road again, it was good to see them working away from the Coliseum. A joint venture with Opera Philadelphia brought Daniel Schnyder’s recent work based on the life of Charlie Parker, Yardbird, to North London and an excellent choice of venue. The Hackney Empire is a Frank Matcham building and as such a more intimate version of the Coliseum itself – perfect acoustically and a more intimate size for an intimate opera.

Daniel Schnyder and his librettist, Bridgette A Wimberly present us with a series of scenes linked to individual musical structures, all in turn linked to the life of jazz composer and saxophonist, Charlie Parker.

The one act work starts and ends with the composer’s death, and is seen through the eyes of his ghost, who characters seem to accept without question, knowing he is dead but talking to him as if he is still alive.

The score is apparently based on Charlie Parker’s own compositions though I have to admit that for those of us with a background in classical music and opera there was little that was familiar. The scenes are essentially lyrical, some settling gently into song, while others have a Bergian edge to them which helps the dramatic impact. One of the largest problems with the work is the failure of the libretto to create characters with whom we can relate. Too often we are given generalised or two-dimensional situations which are then passed over as we move on. At one point Charlie – the excellent Lawrence Brownlee – begins to open up about this failing faith and the conflict between belief and his drug taking. The whole evening could easily have focussed on and expanded just this, but it vanished all too soon and we had moved to another situation. One of the few exceptions, beside Charlie himself, was Angela Brown, as his mother Addie, who grew in stature as the evening progressed.

Another on-going problem was the relentless dynamic level of the score. The late scene in the mental hospital came as a real relief, with its gentle, reflective setting and the quiet keening of Elena Perroni. This was followed by an introspective quintet which proved to be the most memorable music of the evening.

The small ensemble, under Clark Rundell, is effective within the closer acoustic, and Ron Daniels’ production moved smoothly within Riccardo Hernandez and Scott Zielinski’s designs.

As the first of a number of planned collaborations this may not have quite hit the heights hoped for but was more than positive enough to look forward to the next.

I must have seen a dozen Don Giovannis since I last saw one traditionally set in the eighteenth century. And they get ever more ingenious and imaginative. I suppose it says something for the timelessness of this story of hedonistic amorality, revenge and justice. Oliver Platt’s version for OHP is set on a luxurious 1930s cruise ship which provides a certain plausibility as the Don seeks further seductions to add to his list. And Neil Irish’s set gives us a long narrow deck with lots of doors, some of which open to provide mini rooms and most of it slides away to create a communal area for strolling, deck chairs, dancing, quoits and so on.

Ashley Riches is the most imposing looking Don I’ve ever seen. Taller than anyone else on stage, he brings a charismatic loucheness to the role which – unusually – means you can actually see why so many women fall for him, at least initially. He also sings beautifully of course. The seduction aria addressed to Zerlina (Ellie Laugharne – good) and accompanied by James Ellis on mandolin is utterly delightful, not least because it’s so simple and contrasts well with the more complex work, in duet with Leporello (John Savournin) for example. Savournin finds all the right chagrin, loyalty, wonder, distaste and jealousy to the role and the list number is fun with the numbers chalked up on the quoits score board as he goes.

Victoria Simmonds’s impassioned Donna Elvira ensures that the audience feels real sympathy for this woman who has been “ruined” and cast aside. There’s nice work from Lauren Fagan as Donna Anna especially in that nasty rape scene, played partly on stage in this version, at the beginning. It must be quite a challenge to sing when you’re sideways on the floor with your cheek pressing down and a very large actor on top of you. This production doesn’t pull many punches or invite much sympathy for this serial seducer/rapist. The murder of Il Commendatore ( Graeme Broadbent) is pretty graphic too.

Don Giovanni stands or falls on the strength and staging of its ending. Full marks for this one in which Broadbent’s basso profundo avenger is like Stephen Berkoff playing Banquo’s ghost and pretty damn terrifying.

Warm praise too for the costumes. Themed in amber, yellow, beige and dark red the passengers’ clothes are a visual feast, particularly the Chanel- style trousers and Fagan’s pink silk dressing gown. This is a show which looks as good as it sounds. Dane Lam draws huge amounts of finely drawn detail from his orchestra and it’s fascinating to watch the meticulous way he supports singers by mouthing almost every word.