The Ulster Orchestra under Daniele Rustioni, making his Proms debut, were set a tricky challenge: an hour and half of available playing time, without interval. They filled this with a programme of broadly associated works, inasmuch as all were German and Romantic, but an eclectic selection for all that.

Opening with Wagner’s overture to Tannhäuser the initial wind passages were played with a well-refined elegance that never strayed towards ponderous, joined by equally restrained strings. It was a shame that the skittish, running passages that followed were occasionally marred by smudged rhythm and nervy entries. However the orchestra soon recovered its balance particularly as it segued into the Venusburg music, an extended opening to Act 1 added by Wagner in his 1861 revision of the opera.

Skipping forward a hundred years or so the orchestra was joined by Louise Adler for Richard Strauss’s Vier letzte Lieder. Composed in 1948, with Germany facing the full horror of Nazism and the Second World War, Strauss’s tender songs were beautifully delivered. Adler floated beautifully above the lush orchestrations, delivering the long, melismatic lines with poise and delicacy. Special mention too for the orchestra’s leader Tamás Kocsis whose solos were a perfect foil to the vocal line, particularly in the third song Beim Schlagengehen. Strauss is a regular user of dynamic markings such as piano subito and pianissimo subito, and just occasionally these weren’t observed quite promptly enough leading to the soprano being lost: a desk fewer of upper strings would likely have been enough to compensate for this.

Gustave Mahler’s Blumine Is a short work with a long history, having served time as a movement in the first symphony, re-sused as incidental music and then further reworked at least once as a love offering to women Mahler had relationships with (neither of them Alma). Despite all the baggage, the piece itself is, in the most part, a light, joyous 6/8 lilt, and Rustioni led the way through a rendition that never took itself too seriously. Following the opening passages for an expertly-played solo trumpet and strings, the melody was passed gracefully around the various instrumental families. A darker moment when the theme is inverted on a haunting oboe soon gave way to the return of the original theme, ending with one of the most delightful pianissimo duets between first and second violins, heavily laden with suspended 6ths before the final resolution.

Robert Schumann’s Symphony no. 4 is, like its composer, a much more serious sort of work, the D minor of the key signature being relentless through the stately opening subject of the first movement and never far away in the quicker section that completes the rest of the opening movement. Schumann’s original version of 1841 had the whole piece as one played-through work with linking passages, and despite Schumann’s revision ten years later, here the orchestra allowed no time between movements – which worked well, I thought. The similarly dark second movement benefited from some particularly fine work between a solo cello and oboe, before being followed by busy scherzo, interleaved by two contrasting sections and a finale, played in a style that had more than passing nod to Beethoven’s middle symphonies.

This was all led by an energetic conductor (so much so that he leapt into the air more than once) whose boundless enthusiasm infected both his players and audience alike. In a particularly nice touch he turned the orchestra to acknowledge the audience in the choir stalls – and the bust of Sir Henry, who I am sure would have been as swept along as the rest of us.

Lucas Elkin

So what do Delius and Puccini have in common? Both entered short operas for competitions sponsored by the publisher Sonzogno – the former in 1902 and the latter (while still a student) in 1883. Neither won. But here they both are, courtesy of the ever imaginative Opera Holland Park.

It’s easy to see why Margot La Rouge didn’t impress the adjudicators. It’s a simple tale of a girl whose rediscovered lover is killed by another contender whom Anna kills in revenge. Although some of the orchestration is magnificent – including a storm with horns, timps, racing scales and I loved the passionate tenor sound of Samuel Sakker’s voice – generally speaking the piece is pretty one dimensional. He finds his former love, Margot (Anne Sophie Duprels) working as a prostitute so the piece is glued together with all the usual nineteenth century hypocritical moral horror of prostitution. And it’s a pity, English surtitles notwithstanding, when you can’t hear the diction. Had I not known, I probably would not have noticed that the piece is sung in French.

After the interval the mood is quite different. Puccini was a melodist though and through and much of the music in Le Villi is rich and warm with hints of what lay ahead in his later major successes. The piece opens with a big engagement party for Anna (Duprels again – really coming into her own this time) and Roberto (Peter Auty). A black clad chorus dance in lilting 3|4 round the front of takis’s ring-shaped stage extension with the orchestra behind them and we’re immediately in a very convincing dramatic world.

The construction is odd, though. Once Roberto has left on a business trip (sort of) to Anna’s distress, the plot snaps shut like a telescope. Stephen Gadd (lots of gravitas) explains in spoken words that Roberto has been corrupted and debauched. We see nothing of his journey or Anna’s death from a broken heart. Next thing you know she’s in a coffin while Puccini winches up the emotion as only he can.

It gets better after that. Roberto returns in agonised repentance (beautiful aria from Auty) and is then haunted and killed by Anna’s vengeful ghost. The dancing Villi, white veils and evocative choreography have terrific dramatic impact and Puccini’s use of violas to connote terror will stay with me for a long time.

The set by takis works well in both operas. We are given a centre stage building constructed with rough planks which is manually revolved to provide scene changes. Outside incidents, such as people running to escape the storm or Roberto returning from his moral wilderness are played elsewhere on Opera Holland Park’s vast stage.

Congratulations, too, to conductor Francesco Cilluffo who keeps orchestra and singers firmly but fluidly under control. Only once or twice did the balance go awry so that the orchestra was drowning out the singing.

Susan Elkin

One of the underlying objectives of the Proms, from the earliest days, has been to make music accessible to people from a variety of backgrounds, breaking down barriers that may exist and ultimately creating a larger audience for ‘classical’ music in general. Recent years have seen the introduction of more specialised proms bringing in different musical genres and crossovers from popular, folk and film music. This particular prom was the first given over entirely to music exclusively written for the ever expanding games market. As the title might suggest this was an attempt to highlight a variety of music written across the last few decades, from the earliest games, where computer generated sound was exciting but severely limited, to the seemingly unlimited potential of the latest technology.

It was evident from the reactions to the games being name-checked that a substantial number of gamers were present in the hall – some who have been doing so for a number of years and others of the younger generation. I am sure there were also others like me, who knew nothing about the particular games but could still enjoy the music.

As well as the large orchestral forces there were some clever nods to the earliest computer generated sounds. Electronic treatments of some of the acoustic instruments featured alongside electric guitar, synthesiser and sampled sounds. Two harps and a vast array of percussion (as well as flexible wind tubes worked aggressively in the air) all added to the variety of timbres.

There was a section devoted to Japanese composers, references to classic games such as Pokemon and the long running Final Fantasy series. There was music from the ground-breaking Journey and the very recent Battlefield 2042. This latter arrangement was the European premiere. Featuring an array of visceral sounds and often devoid of melody or easily identifiable structure this piece stood out from the rest of the programme, which was often very melodic and full of contrasts. It was a highlight for me with the sheer force of the orchestra’s full resources, coupled with real world samples and manipulations.

The sheer energy on show from the musicians under the completely committed conducting of Robert Ames left the audience in no doubt that this music was being taken seriously in its own right and that it was worthy of being presented in this manner. The subtle visuals on display above the orchestra added a pleasing extra dimension without the music being relegated to the background. The enthusiastic and informative compering by presenters Louise Blain and Steffan Powell also did much to engage the audience and to present this music with enough background for the uninformed (like me) as well as some playful references for those who knew a bit more.

I found myself thinking that, in the true spirit of the Proms, this was a further wonderful example of creating a more inclusive and democratic culture. Already this week we had seen it at the Commonwealth Games with its deliberate mixing of para and able bodied athletes and with the huge increase of interest in women’s football with the European Championships. Here, tonight, Gamers saw a recognition of their particular interest, together with the composers (several of whom were present with us in the audience) whose work deserves to sit alongside the film and television scores we already rightly appreciate and celebrate.

Perhaps the next step is to work towards presenting this music alongside traditional and contemporary works for the concert hall, the pop and folk world and those from cinema and television in mixed programmes designed to cater for an ever-widening audience.

Stephen Page

This show is deeply moving on at least two levels. First, there’s Jessica Duchen’s story for our times about a young Syrian refugee in Britain who finds herself through cricket and is then reunited (sort of) with her own mother. Second, it’s both inspirational and impressive to stage a community opera with 180 all age, diverse performers including – via video – youth choirs from Damascus and Bethlehem and a small group of professionals

Roxana Panufnik’s music is often beautiful, always colourful and makes aptly dramatic use of a wide range of orchestral sounds. There’s some exquisite harp work, for instance, under the rich bass-baritone of Jonathan Lemalu, who plays Harry, Dalia’s foster father in Britain, When there’s conflict in the action Panufnik gives us discordant, strident music – all nicely managed by Douglas Boyd and the Philharmonia Orchestra in the pit.

The sober opening to this uplifting opera presents distressed, depressed people, listless in a refugee camp. Then Dalia (Adrianna Forbes-Dorant – a warm, vibrant singer) arrives at the home of Harry and Maya (Kate Royal – good) where she is made warmly welcome although everyone has to do a lot of adjusting. Their children are played by Erin Field and Joshey Newynskyj, who both sing well. Of course there’s some hostility from the local community especially from cynical, critical Roger (Andrew Watts) at the cricket club. Watts is a counter tenor with a very high range whose troubled, piercing, bitter interjections work perfectly, Eventually coached by Fred (Ed Lyon, tenor) Dalia finds a talent for spin bowling and grows in confidence.

In many ways, though, the high point of this show is the arrival of Dalia’s mother Aisha (Merit Ariane) at a refugee detention centre in Dover. Ariane sings an Islamic lament full of quarter tones sounding like articulated vibrato which is intensely powerful and the scene in which she meets her daughter again is gut wrenching because there is no definite prospect of a happy ending.

There is much about this fine show to commend. It makes excellent, imaginative use of big video screens to show, for instance the choirs elsewhere which haunt Dalia or to stress the tension of the car ride to Dover with just the wing mirrors and the motorway flashing past. Then there’s the oud, played evocatively on stage by Rachel Beckles Willson, the brief appearance of the cream Labrador – part of the community – and the set by Rhiannon Newman Brown which understatedly links the quasi prison at Dover with a cricket net. Moreover the idea that Dalia finds acceptance through cricket sits beautifully at Wormsley which is famous for its historic ground. And full marks to Karen Gillingham for her undaunted direction of this huge cast and enabling them to force this hard-bitten critic to grope for a tissue several times.

Susan Elkin