"She Fell in Love with a MAD GENIUS"

"She Fell in Love with a MAD GENIUS". So ran the publicity for Song of Love, the biopic of Robert and Clara Schumann. You know those two, they had a "love story so beautiful it was set to music". That's a nice way to describe Dichterliebe and so much else.

Katharine Hepburn plays Clara Wieck with a strong American accent, while Robert Schumann (Paul Henreid) speaks exaggerated Germanic English. Within twenty minutes, the courtship,  trial and wedding have taken place and they have seven children. Johannes Brahms, who also speaks American, drops by. Brahms ends up doing household chores and paying undue attention to little Julie. Robert has "headaches". Clara suddenly decides to play concerts again. Her career, she says, is "fleeting" so she'll sacrifice herself so he can write. So when she gives a recital, the maid appears with young Felix in tow, who wants a feed. So Clara plays at a furious pace, to get back to her "real" work. Brahms plays the Weigenlied to soothe Julie, who's about 10 .

Robert's going mad because he can't write an opera and "gets headaches". At a recital, Franz Liszt plays an arrangement of Du meine Seele . Clara takes over at the piano and plays it even more beautifully, even though she chats throughout. Schumann conducts Szenen aus Faust in the Leipzig Gewandhaus, but starts to go insane. Hepburn visits Schumann in the asylum, where he plays  Traumerei. Suddenly, it's 1876. Brahms is listening to the premiere of his Symphony No 1. Brahms takes Clara dancing and, over dinner, proposes to her.  Julie is forgotten.  Alas, a gypsy violinist starts to play Du meine Seele, and Clara knows she can't marry Brahms after all.  "He still lives" she cries. And so she dedicates the rest of her life to playing Schumann's music. At her farewell, she plays Traumerei for royalty just as she had done when she was a girl.

Though this isn't a very good movie, it's interesting because it shows how Hollywood in 1947 expected audiences to know who Schumann, Brahms, Liszt and even Carl Reinecke were. Professional pianists were engaged, while the actors mimed. The orchestra in the scene in  the  Leipzig Gewandhaus was the Metro Goldwyn Meyer Orchestra. conducted by Michael Steinberg. 

Massenet Werther from the Met

On air now Massenet Werther from the Met, here on BBC Radio 3.The bad news is the appallingly infantile commentary.

Follow that Falcon ! Die Frau ohne Schatten ROH

Like all good nightmares, Richard Strauss Die Frau ohne Schatten is bizarre and perceptive, at the same time. And like all good dreams, what you get from them equates to what you put in. In  the Royal Opera House's new Die Frau ohne Schatten, at the Royal Opera House London, previously at the Teatro alla Scala Milan, Claus Guth gives us a simplified cartoon-like version of one of the most surreal fantasies in the whole repertoire.  There are many different levels in Die Frau ohne Schatten, but primarily it involves a search for a shadow. What does this shadow mean? How is a shadow attained? Guth doesn't engage with human or mythical personalities, but on the animals. It's very Walt Disney. "Ignore the ideas", the show seems to say, "Follow the Falcon".

In principle, there's no reason why a single point of entry can't penetrate mysteries. Alice in Wonderland followed a rabbit down a hole. Of course, the Falcon dominates the music. It pops up over and over, at critical points in the drama, invisibly leading the protagonists forward. It's perfectly reasonable for a staging to depict it in physical form, and certainly easier for some audiences than more metaphysical productions. But what does this Falcon mean ? A Falcon is a hunting bird. Diana, the Goddess of the Moon and thus of dreams, is also the Goddess of the Hunt, and of virginal sterility. We don't need to know how Keikobad fathered the Empress with falcon and gazelle DNA, suffice to understand that there is something mysterious and unnatural about her predicament. Until she finds a shadow, by fair means or foul, .she and/or the Emperor are doomed.

In this production, shadows are everywhere right from the start, simple tricks of light. That's fine, but as the drama unfolds, they aren't  replaced by greater substance, symbolic or otherwise. Instead, dancers with falcon and gazelle costumes  dominate the stage. They're lovely to look at, and the Falcon dances like a moth, but  the over-use of these figures turns the opera into quasi-ballet, distracting from the drama in the singing and in the orchestra. But what do these animals really mean? And why are the unborn children shown as beasts of the kill? On a Disney level, they look cute, but in terms of the opera, that throws meaning  out of line. Fortunately, in the last scene, they become "real" children again.

The stage is decorated with pseudo-psychological symbols, like a bed. Purity, sleep, sickness, death and sex - get it ?  In principle, that would be fine, but the clues stop there, and aren['t integrated into the development of the personalities of the protagonists. In von Hofmannsthal's text, The Nurse, for example, is not just a "Nurse" but an anti-nurturing figure who tries to keep her charge infantilized.  The Empress has to banish her if she is to grow. Michaela Schuster can be wonderful in this part as she was in  Salzburg (more here).  She is an asset, technically far more secure  than Emily Magee's Empress, but here she is wasted. Guth relegates her to one-dimensional hospital nurse, whatever the words she is singing might say.

At the end, The Empress is seen in bed again, as if nothing has happened and the whole drama has been no more than a bad dream. Perhaps. But that sums up Claus Guth's approach to the opera, turning it into fairy tale.  So much for the quest for a shadow, "Mother Knows Best". Except this mother figure is malevolent. Indeed, so is Keikobad, depicted as a gazelle with a walking stick. So much for the savage protest of Hugo von Hofmannsthal and the satire Strauss builds into the music. If Die Frau ohne Schatten can be summed up in one phrase (and it probably can't) that phrase might be : challenge authority., find your own way.

Johan Botha lifts the production onto an altogether more elevated plane. His singing is flawless, his voice rings with gleaming lucidity, each note "crystalline" yet tinged with deeper, more complex nuance. When he appears, it's as if he's descended from the Gods. He simply outclasses everyone and everything around him. For a moment, the trivia of the production fades away. We are hearing perhaps the finest Emperor in the business today. Botha is phenomenal. It's worth catching the show for him alone. Fortunately, the staging focuses on him alone, and at this point is vividly dramatic.

Semyon Bychkov is rarely less than good,  and the Royal Opera House orchestra plays with verve and just the right amount of sour dissonance. Bassons and low winds snarl, commenting on meanings not borne through in the staging. Bychkov, who is usually more refined,  goes for volume when more sublety might be more effective. I longed for Christian Thielemann in Salzburg (more here) , who made the orchestra sing, so orchestra, voice and meaning were fully integrated. In a Big Bang production like Guth's, noisiness is perhaps a virtue.

Emily Magee sang The Empress and Elena Pankratova sang the Dyer's Wife. Magee is popular, but in this production, the role was so ill-defined that she was eclipsed by the goings-on around her. It didn't help that she and Pankratova were costumed alike. The roles are mirror images of each other  but the staging was confusing. Pankratova rang out with passionate intensity, creating the desolation in the character by voice alone. In Warlikowski's Die Frau ohne Schatten for Munich (read more here) she smouldered with sexual frustration. Guth downplays her abilities, just as the Nurse suffocates the Empress.  Johan Reuter sang Barak, with many good moments and a few lost notes, but effective enough. I wonder how much effort went into rehearsing the singers in character, when so much attention was paid to the animals ? In theory,this is a great cast, all well experienced.What wonders might there have been ?

photos : copyright ROH Clive Barda 2014

Strauss Die Frau ohne Schatten Salzburg - exceptionally musically sensitive

Richard Strauss Die Frau ohne Schatten opens at the Royal Opera House. (read my review here). This opera fascinates because "Shadows" occlude its meaning on many levels. Yet, just as the Kaiserin has to engage with feelings rather than steal a shadow, so should we engage with the opera.  Every interpretation should reveal something. The one thing to beware, I think, in an opera which predicates on oblique contradiction,  is anything too literal.  That's why I love the Salzburg production from 2011, directed by Christof Loy.   It overthrows the whole notion of staging.  Its paramount focus is the opera itself.
 
It's ironic that those who hate "modern"stagings cannot recognize a production where the music comes first and above all else. Christian Thielemann's conducting is magnificent: crystalline clarity, austere yet passionately, painfully sensual. In this production, the orchestra truly sings along with the voices: there are few distractions to the inherent drama in the music. Indeed, this production underlines an important theme implicit in so much of Richard Strauss's music: the idea of art replicating the making of art.

At first, the production seems like a concert performance. For that the patrons of the Salzburger Festspielhaus have paid a fortune?  that alone says something about the way culture is consumed.  The set references Karl Böhm's historic first recording. The sophistcated Salzburg audience is looking onto a simpler, spartan world that no longer exists. More irony. The cast wear coats because Böhm conducted in an unheated room, but the "coldness" also reflects the situation. In this strange kingdom, the moon controls destiny. The images of falconry, deer and hunting suggest death, not life. This coldness can't continue. The singers are wearing coats because they're embarking on journeys toward change.

Beware the literal. Just as the opera operates on two planes, so does the production. This staging works on a disconcerting metaphysical level, but it's deceptive (rather like the opera). Notice the detail in the direction: the singers interact like singers would, rather than "characters" playing parts, The Nurse (Michaela Schuster) darts spiteful glances at the Kaiserin (Anne Schwanewilms) as if there's form between them. As the opera evolves, we realize that there is some deeply repressed rivalry. Only when the Kaiserin rids herself of this malign mother-figure can she grow. Schwanewilms, who owns the part these days, is superb.  She can concentrate on her singing, capturing the nuanced detail of a concert performance.  Loy's direction is singer-oriented, and the entire cast rises to the challenge. Musically, this production is a revelation - as things should be.

The First Act unfolds in a place and time that defines definition. "Updating" is an utterly irrelevant concept. Just as in many Wagner operas, by the time the opera s begins, tjere's a whole history we piece together through clues in the text. Falcon heads and deer are perfectly reasonable ways to depict this strange world with its images of the moon and hunting. Falcon cries haunt the music, calling out even when they're not mentioned in the text.  Perhaps we even hear gazelles in the fleeting, energetic twists in the strings.  But it's far more disturbing, I feel, to see it staged in this much more metaphysical, abstract way. The singers are seen clutching copies of the score.  Factotums appear on the margins and in corridors, even when they sing. Nothing here is quite what it seems, for very good reason.  Living without a shadow is unnatural. The Kaiserin needs to come down from the lands of the Moon and live among mortals.

Gradually, imperceptibly, the singers enter "acting" mode, their movements becoming more naturalistic as they begin to engage with their innermost feelings.  The set gets busier and more animated: we see action take place in rooms above and to the side of the stage. As the action warms up, so does the lighting, and the possibility of shadow. The sterility of the staging is significant, for the "moon" is sterile, and the Dyer's Wife (Evelyn Herlitizius) has no children. The lushness in the orchestration serves to emphasize the alienation in the Dyer's Wife and the Kaiserin. In the lushness of the orchestra we hear what they are missing out on. Here there are no visual barriers to deaden the sadness.

Die Frau ohne Schatten often gets a bad press because the relationship between Barak (Wolfgang Koch) and his wife is misunderstood in a superficial Kinder, Küche, Kirche manner. Everything we know about Strauss's relationship with his wife suggests the opposite. No way was Pauline de Ahna a woman to be pushed around. If anyone did the pushing in that household, it was she. The Strausses imbibed the ideas of the Munich Secession, and its liberated attitude to women. In its own way, Die Frau ohne Scahtten is fairly explicit about sexual repression. The fantasy scene is witty: figures in feathers dance around the Dyer's Wife - flamingos, not falcons!  The shadows are getting sharper now she's coming to terms with her needs.   Much in this opera is alluded to rather than explicit, but the text is reasonably clear what having children really means: the continuation of life. Keikobad is dead, and the Nurse is banished. Barak and his wife will start their own family. We see the minor characters in the staging reappear as child versions of themselves : children everywhere, re-enacting the process of growing up. It's not about "self" but the continuum of life.

As the Kaiserin faces judgement, there's a wonderful moment when Schwanewilms looks upwards at the empty office. We hear the sounds of the falcon and see the falcon's colours in Schwanewilm's red  hair. When the Kaiser (Stephen Gould) appears in the upstairs office, warmth suffuses her features, though she moves with nervous gestures, like a bird.  The confrontations between The Kaiserin and the Nurse are also particularly intense, like a duel between Ortrud and Elsa von Brabant.  "Higher forces are at work" spits a demonic Michaela Schuster, blazing with violence, draped in black. When all thye principals join in, singing at each other, but together, the turbulence in the orchestra suggests transition : sweeping, soaring discords as if the sky were exploding and the oceans rising. The stage goes black - the music is speaking. Schwanewilms appears in a corner.  As the poignant solo violin plays, she walks, alone, spotlit on the dark emptiness of the stage. It's like seeing pure music come alive. In the orchestra, we hear the invisible "water " motif. sparkle around her. Wonderful connection between meaning, visuals and music. Stephen Gould's voice rings out clarion like as he sings the Kaiser. The Kaiserin has struggled with herself and won. Only now,, we see a Karl Böhm figure smiling down from above.

In the darkness, the stage is transformed. It's Christmas, when a Child is given to the World as Saviour.  The barren frame  set finds fulfilment and becomes a proper performing space. The "Cherubim" wear blue sailor suits, like the Vienna Boys Choir. The Austrian colours of red and white hang from the balconies. The soloists appear in elegant evening dress. Again, the music "speaks". The singers's long, high lines cross and interact, and the orchestra adds richness and grandeur. Even the on stage "audience" joins in, waving rhythmically.  Look ! There's The Nurse forced to spend her life among mortals and fidgety little kids whom she hates ! Schwanewilms turns away, and sees the young couple who had been extras on the set embrace. 

Christof Loy's production is exceptionally sensitive to music and meaning, and it has inspired exceptionally good singing and playing. Performers like Thielemann and Schwanewilms aren't going to give this much if they don't believe in what they're doing.  The booing mob think "Regie" means regimentation, but in the real world directors have to motivate performers who know their music well. Co-operation and harmony - the very message of the opera. Strauss knew first hand how the business worked. Maybe there are those who know better than performers of this calibre, but I'm prepared to respect their taste and artistry.
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Boult, Bax, Peter Pears, Communist?

Among the files just released by the National Archives, Kew, is a file on Peter Pears and his "Communist" connections. (KV2/3844 ). The earliest document  is an extract from Special Branch Report no 256 dated 30 June 1951 on The Musicians' Organization for Peace. "This body, operating from 3, Gloucester Gate Mews, NW1 and claiming to be non political, was set up at a meeting of 60 musicians (400 were invited), at the Bonnington Hotel WC1, sponsored by Sir Adrian Boult and Arthur Benjamin".  Boult is President and Vice Presidents include Gerald Finzi, Maurice Jacobsen, Parry Jones, Peter Pears, "Thomas Russell (COMMUNIST)" [upper case on the file],  Sir Arnold Bax and Benjamin Britten. A later memo (1952) also lists, inter alia, Lennox Berkeley, Michael Tippett, Humphrey Lyttelton and Paul Beard as vice-presidents.

Then there's a minute dated 2.4.53 stating that Britten and Pears were "Both members of the League of Democracy for Greece". "As you are aware", states the minute writer (Special Branch?) Britten and Pears "are in close contact with the Royal Family, and for this reason, the Foreign Office wish to be briefed on their security backgrounds".  The League of Democracy for Greece "although Communist-dominated is a rallying point for all those who are opposed to the present Government in Greece". But there's no evidence that Britten or Pears are implicated in other organizations.

In 1959, Pears applied for a non-immigrant visa for the US. On 26/2/59 the Foreign Office tells the US Embassy that the Musicians' Organization for Peace Executive Committee was "for the most part composed of Communist Party Members and Communist sympathizers". In 1955, Pears's name still appeared "amongst the Vice-Presidents listed on the Organization's headed note paper; included also are other distinguished musicians not known to have Communist sympathies".

"On 30 January 1955 Pears sang on behalf of the Musicians Organization for Peace and associated Peace Groups  at a concert entitled 'Voices for Peace' which included some Communist Artists and was advertised in the Daily Worker". However, the Foreign Office concludes "We do not know precisely what are Pears's motives for associating with the Musicians' Organization for Peace. There is no evidence from other sources to suggest that Pears has Communist leanings."

Three Choirs Festival Worcester 2014

Tickets go on sale 15/4 for the 2014 Three Choirs Festival, this year in Worcester, the city where Elgar grew up. This is also the first year the Festival has been curated by Dr Peter Nardone. Moreover, this year marks the centenary of the beginning of the First World War. The Three Choirs Festival mirrors a type of Englishness that has survived centuries of strife and change. Perhaps we can better appreciate that "Spirit of England" by engaging with The Three Choirs Festival and what it represents.

This year's Three Choirs opens on Saturday 26th July. Perhaps the Opening Service at 11.30 in Worcester Cathedral will mean more than usual, given what is being commemorated. You don't have to be a Christian to care. We all share (I trust) universal faith in goodness, humanity and hope. At 2.30,  Roderick Williams, easily the greatest baritone in this genre, presents a recital on The Great War in English Song, built around George Butterworth's A Shropshire Lad. Butterworth was killed in the Somme in 1916. There's a lot about him on this site, including something I found in the War Office archives which no one had found before. Please use the "Butterworth" label at right.

This year, London's Globe Theatre  tours to Worcester: a very special event indeed. The Globe will be doing Shakespeare Much Ado About Nothing at 3.30 in the College Hall. T.hen, at 745 in Worcester Cathedral itself, Britten's War Requiem. Britten wasn't a Three Choirs regular, and the piece isn't conventionally religious. Please read what I've written about the War Requiem, Britten and Britten's pacifism on this site, using the labels at right. If ever there was an occasion when the Three Choirs ethic and Britten dovetail, this will be it. This War Requiem could be a coming-together on a very deep level.

Many concerts during Sunday 27th. Alternatively, you could visit Elgar's Birtthplace at Broadheath three  miles from the city centre. Excellent museum, with very well stocked CD shop. There will be other opportunities to visit during the week, and specially curated Walking Tours through the countryside Elgar was so fond of visiting. Sunday night will be a good chance to savour Three Choirs hospitality at the King's Hall - Roast Beef and Yorkshire pudding! After which one will be well fortified for Dvořák’s Stabat Mater in Worcester Cathedral, which Dvořák himself conducted at the Three Choirs Festival in 1884. The Choirs was very much in the vanguard of "new" European music when it was new.

This tradition continues: On Thursday, 31/7 in Worcester Cathedral, Torsten Rasch A Foreign Field will receive its premiere. It's a Three Choirs commission,  and will be heard with Elgar's The Spirit of England and Vaughan Williams' A Lark Ascending. The concert, titled Reflections of 1914, will be another significant coming-together. Two of the greatest British composers, responding to a war that would change their world, and a youngish German composer who has travelled the world, reflecting on what went before him.  Rasch grew up in a tradition very close to the Three Choirs: he was a boy chorister with the Dresdener Kreuzchor, which produced Peter Schreier and Rudolf Mausberger (lots about them on this site too). Rasch's music embraces wider genres. He emigrated to Japan as a young man and has worked in theatre, film and multi media.  Read more about him here.

But without Elgar, no Three Choirs Festival would be complete. This year's Elgar highlight will be The Apostles, on Friday,1st August in Worcester Cathedral. This is a hugely ambitious, even extravagant work and should be stunning with the massed choirs. Good cast, too : Andrew Kennedy, Brindley Sherratt, Sarah Fox, Claudia Huckle, Neal Davis, Marcus Farnsworth, conducted by Adrian Partington. This week  BBC Radio 3 is broadcasting Mark Elder's Proms Apostles which I wrote about here. The photo shows Elgar conducting The Apostles in Worcester at the 1905 Three Choirs Festival. Don't recognize the organ? The performance took place in The Public Hall, Worcester, demolished in 1966 when the city centre was rebuilt. .

Richard Strauss Feuersnot broadcast

Another chance to hear Richard Strauss's Feuersnot, op 50, conducted by Ulf Schirmer. An extremely vivid performance, recorded live in Munich not long ago with a cast who can sing idiomatically and a conductor who understands the composer and the savage satire in the work   Good performances like this are essential especially for relatively little kmown work. Bad performances do more harm than good.  Read HERE for what I wrote when it was televised by BR Klassik in February. The photos come from a production earlier this year in the Teatro Massimo, Palermo, which looks like fun. Note the wry references to Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg!

Handel Rinaldo Baroque Puppets

Tickets are now on sale for Glyndebourne's Handel Rinaldo, (read my review here)  But at the Baden  State Theatre in Karlsruhe, a really special Rinaldo staged with puppets! In Baroque times, puppetry was a respected art form.  Baroque marionettes sprang from much older traditions that hark back to medieval street and religious theatre. Wood carving craftmanship, still very significant in many parts of Europe, adapted well to the elaborate Baroque taste for fantasy and extravagance. Kings might experience Baroque spectacles on a grand scale. Through marionette theatres, humbler audiences could enjoy things on a more miniature scale. Puppets aren't real but they're magical, and fun.

This new Rinaldo  has been created by Carlo Colla & Figli is a world-renowned Italian puppet company that has been staging performances of classical tales and plays for more than 200 years. Have a look at their website for photos of their productions and also of their workshops. Puppeteer Paiero Corbella told Deutsche Welle about the painstaking craftmanship behind the tradition. "While the secondary characters have only six strings, the main characters in the production have up to 25 strings. That way, explains Corbella, they can carry out complicated movements such as placing their hand on their brow in a tragic gesture or moving their mouths to mimic the singing. Having this range of movement is important in order to capture the historical traditions of Baroque theater, which is based on stylized, emotional gestures".

This Rinaldo is being performed with the Lautten Compagney, whose conductor Wolfgang Katschner says  "We are combining historical music with a special kind of historical theater - which results in something very magical and beautiful, The marionettes act out the libretto [the opera text] in a very naive, simple manner to magical effect." Read more here.

Lots more on puppets and their use in opera on this site, follow the label "Puppets and circus" on the right

Britten Prince of the Pagodas, Birmingham

At last, a new production of Benjamin Britten's  ballet, The Prince of the Pagodas, which might erase memories of the gauche production John Cranko choreographed in 1957,  which the composer disliked so much he didn't really touch the genre again. As music, The Prince of the Pagodas is a milestone in Britten's oeuvre because he's experimenting with ideas and sound he absorbed in the Far East, which would lift his music onto an altogether more adventurous plane. From The Prince of the Pagodas, we look forward to Curlew River, The Turn of the Screw and to Death in Venice. Dance infuses much of Britten's work. In Death in Venice, Tadzio's dance on the beach invokes the very spirit of life and art, and brings Apollo himself into the world of mortals,

What might Britten have achieved had he created ballet for more sympathetic interpreters? Until now, we've had to rely on Oliver Knussen's 2006 recording to hear an intelligent account of the music.  The Royal Opera House revived the streamlined Kenneth Macmillan choreography  in 2012.  (read here what I wrote then). But it's high time the ballet was completely rethought afresh.

The Birmingham Royal Ballet, in conjunction with the National Ballet of Japan, commissioned a new production, choreographed by David Bintley. Claire Seymour, author of The Operas of Benjamin Britten, went to Birmingham to experience the new approach.

"In a programme article, Bintley explains that he sees Pagodas primarily as a ‘love story with no reason, purpose, conclusion or romance!’; he has aimed to make ‘another kind of love story, not expounding on the Eros type love of a man for a woman, but portraying something more mystical and subtle … the love of a girl for her brother, a father for his son and ultimately that of a family reunited after much trial and tribulation’. 

"......These changes have many merits. Sakura is more strongly characterised and the narrative given more focus and drive, through the introduction of the quest in Act 2. There also opportunities for additional digressions which allow for the introduction of a host of contrasting contexts and characters, and also provide ‘action’ for some of the longer musical episodes.....Perhaps the balance between pathos and humour is not quite right, though, leaning too far in favour of the comic"

Read the full review here in Opera Today. 

Gluck Alceste - psychologically perceptive despite the singing

Watched the Bayerisches Staatsoper production  livestream last night, tho' it was ruimned by weather conditions and kept cutting out.  However, heard enough to say that Munich was LEAGUES better than Madrid.  Musically, the singers were wonderful,  Dortothea Roeschmann brilliant, and the orchestra less leaden than Bolton.  The production was suitably austere, the all important choreography so expressive that it extended the music, as it should.  Will write it up when the livestream gets archived


"They see me as a threat but I'm here to do good. Every strong woman in history has had to walk down the same path. I think it's the strength that causes confusion and fear"

Alceste, Queen of Thessaly, gives an interview. The very fact that Alceste should be allowed to give her side of events will enrage the kind of folk who think no-one is allowed insights other than their own. Director Krzysztof Warlikowski.'s production for the Teatro Real, Madrid, doesn't overdo the Princess Diana metaphor too much. Alceste (through Angela Denoke) comes across as a plausible, sympathetic personality. In any case, when the music begins, she slips back into role. In this performance, Denoke's pitch wavers and her consonants elide into vowels.  But  she acts so well that she projects character so well that she's utterly compelling. She dominates the screen, expressing Alceste's deepest feelings  with blazing intensity. A wonderful portrayal: one can forgive the lost notes. This is, after all, a Queen driven to extremes. What happens to her is horrific,  but her dignity and courage shine through.  Denoke's phrasing is plummy, but the raw honesty of her acting shows deep committment. I was immensely moved.

The Overture is stunning. Alceste knows what's happened to Admète. It's a private moment where she can show her vulnerability.  Shaking, Denoke tries to light a cigarette but her hands tremble too much.  When the trumpets announce Évandre, (Magnus Staveland)  who brings the news, the chorus reacts with grief, but as Queen, Alceste has to retain regal composure.as she addresses the populace. Here, they're shown as patients in a hospital with marble walls, whose austerity accentuates the rich, jewel-coloured satins worn by Alceste and her entourage's glowing colours.  Throughout history, royals have been expected to carry out semi-divine civic functions to calm their sujects fidèles.  Diana wasn't the first or last. In the darkness of the Temple, Gluck evokes a mood of elegant dignity. Warlikowski introduces long moments of silence, intensifying dramatic tension. A ritual is being observed. When Willard White's High Priest cries out "All-powerful God", the effect is  striking, even though White's voice is now ragged and dry.

The scene in which Alceste confronts the Underworld is brilliantly realized by designer Malgorzata Szczesniak.  The stage becomes a vast, metallic surface onto which fleeting images of the family and court are projected. Denoke seems tiny in comparison. As she sings, her shadow is shown upside down behind her: everything's in reverse. White light, rippling surfaces: Apollo's beams pierce this dark veil with cold, merciless cruelty. "Divinités de Styx, Ministères de la Mort" sings Denoke. "I will not implore your Mercy". Her pitch may be wayward, but she finds "new strength", her voice now warmed by love. The Court rejoices. Paul Groves sings Admète fluidly: this King takes things as his due, without question. Again, Warlikowski  emphasizes unspoken music. Delicately plucked strings while Alceste dances, and later when the penny starts to drop for Admète. How crude the "Spanish" dance seems in contrast! Similarly in the short interlude before "O! malgré moi, faible coeur", Denoke poses in front of a mountain of opulent roses, her face a mask of anguish. As Denoke sings front stage the flowers are lit with golden light. "Oh, how quickly the dream of life fades" sing the chorus.

Thomas Oliemans sings Hercule with macho energy. When he hears what's happening to his friends,  his cockiness collapses. He starts to shave, but his hands lose their grip, and foam pours over him. This is an interesting detail. Hercule represents male strength, while Alceste represents female strength but both are sensitive to feelings. Alceste wanders through the gates of the Underworld where bodies are being prepared by unworldly undertakers. Admète has followed her, rather than live on alone. As he sings of love, the corpses re-animate, one pair in frantic embrace.  Thanatos (also Willard White) sings to the sound of trumpets. " Charon t' appelles, entends sa voix!" Alceste starts to be wheeled away. The corpses twitch and squirm, as if electric currents are forcing them, unnaturally, into a parody of life.

Groves's singing becomes heroic, while Hercule,  stands helpless in the background, his face painted like a sad clown. Admète can't defy the gods, but Hercule, a god, can. He swings his fencing iron, invoking Apollon himself, who releases Alceste from the curse. Denoke, Groves and Oliemans sing the trio of happiness, which is taken up by the chorus. But can Alceste live happily ever after, having entered Hades? The brass fanfares and drum rolls in the finale suggest stately  power. King, Queen, Hercule and the royal children are having breakfast together: one egg, one orange juice, like in a hospital. But Alceste is in a wheelchair, tended by Thanato's assistant. Her body is present, but does her soul wander? Perhaps Admète's love is now being tested.  Perhaps Alceste is learning that you don't have to be superhuman to be loved.

This ending may be different, but it is thoughtful, and reflects a psychologically sensitive reading of the opera. Alceste is strong, but like so many strong people, strength comes at a price. She does good for others, and does her duty. But at what inner price.  Controversial as this ending might be to some, I think it enhances the meaning of the opera, and reaffirms its place in the repertoire. Contrary to received opinion, a good opera can support many different responses. The singing overall, may be better on some recordings, but anyone who cares about this opera would do well to learn from this extremely perceptive interpretation..

Please also see what I've written about Warlikowski's Die Frau ohne Shatten  and Eugene Onegin

Les Indes Galantes Rameau Barbican review

Titan of French Baroque, Rameau Les Indes Galantes was brought to the Barbican Hall London by Christophe Rousset and Les Talens Lyriques.  Les Talens Lyriques have a distinctive bright sound, which suits Les Indes Galantes well.  This performance was part of a tour Les Talens Lyriques created for a fully staged production with dancers for Théâtre du Capitole, Toulouse, The Opéra National de Bordeaux and the Staatstheater Nürnberg. Although the staging, directed by Laura Scozzi is somewhat controversial, it follows the score (if Persian women need disguises, why not burkas?)  This isn't a piece for po-faced solemnity. Good natured humour is very much a part of the Baroque sensibility. 

 At the Barbican in London, we had a concert performance, without costumes or dancers, or dancers without costumes. But Les Talens Lyriques and the soloists were so lively that some of us in the audiences (like me) couldn't help but dance along in our seats. 

In 1990, Rousset worked as William Christie's assiatnt when Les Arts Florissants created Les Indes Galantes at Aix-en-Provence, so wonderfully preserved on DVD. For Les Talens Lyriques, he has chosen a  performing edition, based on a 1750 copy of the 1735 manuscript in the archives in Toulouse, This was created by Paul Dukas initially in 1902. "La version de Toulouse me semble intéressante comme témoignage de la conception très fluctuante qu’avait Rameau de son propre opéra", says Rousset.  Composers in the past weren't dogmatic or rigid, but understood performance values. In this version, the third Entrée, Les Fleurs, is less florid, but the compensation is overall clarity. In this performance I was struck by the deft interaction between instruments and voices, "dancing" invisibly. The instruments "sing" too- the two musettes in the Prologue suggest shepherds piping rhythms for nymphs and shepherds to dance to. The antique trumpet called out plaintively. The percussionist beat out thunder with kettledrums, and blew the primitive "wind" machine. Even if the Volcano didn't blow us off our seats, the details elsewhere were deft, as agile as intricate dance steps. The "Hymen" music in Les Sauvages felt like earthy celebration and the final Chaconne restored grace and order.

Five of the original six soloists came to London, ensuring fluent, idiomatic singing. Amel Brahim-Djelloul was a vivacious Hébé, Phani and Fatime, her sparkling tone creating personality. Judith Van Wanroij was a striking Émilie and Atalide: both roles benefiting from the richness of her voice, which fills a niche in the repertoire. Benoît Arnould created the gruff macho in Bellone, Huascar and Alvar. Thomas Dollé sang Osman and Adario with well-judged roundness. 

Most impressive of all, Anders J Dahlin, whose timbre is so beautiful, one would enjoy anything he sang for sheer delight. All his roles - Don Carlos, Damon, Valère and Tacmas -  are men is stress situations, their constancy being tested. Dahlin injects just the right amount of tremolo that he makes the characters feel dramatically real. He's also a natural actor - his body language is so expressive that his slightest gesture amplifies what he's singing. It's a pity we don't hear more of him in this country because he has that balance of lyricism and thoughtfulness that makes roles come alive. As he was singing, I pondered the difference between "English" and French Baroque. Would that we could hear Dahlin more frequently in this country!  

Please also see my review of Hippolyte et Aricie at Glyndebourne (William Christie)

The Song of the Fishermen

Song of the Fisherman (漁光曲) is an icon of Chinese cinema. Released in 1934, it was a huge box-office success screened all over China. It was a good movie, but also captured the spirit of the times. Although it's a silent, at its heart lies a song. It sounds like folk song but was in fact written for the film by a classically trained composer who made it simple enough that audiences could sing along. During the years of war and turmoil, people would sing it to themselves, identifying with the plight of the fisherfolk, resolute against all odds.  HERE is a link to the recording by the star of the film, Wang Ren Mei (王人美).

"Cloud float across  the sky, fish are swimming in the water.  The sun dries the fishing nets in the morning. Wind blows against my face. The tides are turning, the waves are rising, fishing boats setting sail in all directions. cast the net, cast the net. It's hard to catch fish when the weather is bad. Fishing is difficult and rents need to be paid. Fishermen are poor from generation to generation. The old fishing net my grandfather gave me, it gives us a living through the winter" (song starts at 36' into the movie.) . Schubert fans will recognize the gentle rocking lines, like the movement of a boat being rowed along the water. The Ave Maria soundtrack was added later.

Beautiful shots of of fishing junks, on  a wide river.... "The East Sea was beautiful: poets praised it, fishermen scraped a living". Cut to a shot of a bucket breaking ice to draw water to heat on a fire. In this hard winter, a woman gives birth to twins. The family are so poor that it's not a time for rejoicing. But notice how lovingly the humble hovel is filmed: details like the grain on boards of wood are shot in clear focus. The father gets killed at sea, the mother is forced to work as a wet nurse for rich people, while her own babies starve. The boy she nurses loves her though, and later sneaks off to play on the beach with the twins, Little Cat (Wang Ren Mei) and Little Monkey (Han Lan Gen 韩兰根), a wonderful character actor with a distinctive "crying face" that lent itself to comedy while heartbreakingly sad, In this film, Little Monkey is retarded, as so many were in days before good health care, Han grimaces and jerks his limbs like he's spastic: perhaps observed from real life. His sister can sing the Song of the Fishermen better than anyone else, so she sings it to comfort him.

When the kids grow up the rich man's son gets sent overseas to learn the maritime business. His family move to Shanghai and invest. Little Cat and Little Monkey can't make a living at sea so they, too drift to Shanghai in search of work. The Director, Cai Chusheng (1906-1968, 蔡楚生), shows a long sequence outside factory gates where the unemployed queue desperately for a chance at a job, as well shot as any European film of the time. (qv Kuhle Wampe). The previous year Cai had directed New Women (with Ruan Lingyu with whom he's supposedly had an affair). Cai came from ShunTak, upriver from Macau, a Cantonese like Ruan, both migrants to Shanghai like millions of others. Cai was an enlightened liberal, so Song of The Fisherman, New Women and The Spring River flows East (1947) depict strong women.

In Shanghai, Little Cat and Little Monkey scavenge on the streets, but there are always urchins poorer and more desperate than they are. By luck, Little Monkey's strange features land him a job with street performers: nice scene showing traditional outdoor theatre. They meet up with the rich man's son who gives them money, because he hears their mother is ill: he still loves her and feels guilty that his good fortune might have given Little Monkey his affliction. However, the police think Little Cat and Little Monkey have stolen the money and they stand trial. They're released and use the money to buy fat pork and treats for their mother, but when the arrive at the village, she's dead. Then the rich family lose everything in a banking swindle. The son gets a job on a small trawler and takes Little Cat and Little Monkey with him.But Little Monkey is worn out, collapses and dies. Little Cat comforts him by singing the Song of the Fisherman. Han Lan Gen might look like an idiot. and play idiots, but he's a very fine actor. Watch his features change as he faces death and hears the familiar melody "Fishermen are poor from generation to generation. The old fishing net my grandfather gave me, it gives us a living through the winter".

Smash Hit - Elgar, London Coliseum

On Monday, 11th June 1917, at what was then a music hall and is now the London Coliseum, Edward Elgar's Fringes of the Fleet received its premiere. Smash hit! Initially part of a Variety performance that repeated twice daily - imagine - the songs proved so popular that the run was extended week after week, and the show toured, returning to London at the end of the year.

Elgar used texts from Rudyard Kipling's best-selling poems. The songs are robustly vivid and good enough as pure music that they work better than many of Elgar's other art songs for piano. A hundred years ago, there wasn't any prejudice against crossover like there is now. Modern music snobs don't know music history.  Fringes of the Fleet was performed with full staging and special effects. The photos above and at right show the singers in their costumes seated "at a seaside pub" as they begin their recital of maritime shanties. The Lowestoft Boat describes a herring boat commandeered for the war effort. The crew aren't sailors! The mate was a vicar in a chapel in Wales, more used to top hat and tails, and the engineer is 58, "so he's prepared to meet his fate"

"A game is more than the player of the game and the ship is more than the crew", the refrain in Fate's Discourtesy sums up the mentality of the era, when war seemed like a jolly jaunt. In  Submarines (Kipling's Tin Fish), the four baritones sing long lines near the bottom of their register, like a submarines lurking "in the belly of Death". New technology and surprisingly "new" sounding music, making the most of the unusual four-man ensemble. Best of all, I think,  Sweepers (Kipling's Minesweepers) . Mines have been reported in the fairway, and ships are bottled up in port. The minesweepers are heroes. Hence the chorus, using their names, "Unity, Claribel, Assyrian, Stormcock, and Golden Gain". Rather a mouthful to sing, but carried off with style.

Elgar's Fringes of the Fleet was so popular that a recording was rushed out in early July 1917, three weeks  after the first performance. The singers were Charles Mott, Frederick Henry, Frederick Stewart and Harry Barratt,.On July 23, Charles Mott, the lead, who had sung Wagner at Covent Garden, was called up. He was killed in battle in May 1918. Elgar himself conducted - he was an early advocate of new media. The definitive recording is the recent SOMM disc, with other Elgar rarities  The edition used is by Tom Higgins, who conducts the Guildford Symphony. (more here). The 1917 recording is now available commercially here or here and serves as an interesting example of how vocal styles have changed.  How rigid the phrasing seems now, as if the singers were old men in young bodies. In the earlier Lowestoft Boat, the singers hammed up the sound of dogs barking at the dog's home where the ships cook worked as a civilian. It's cute, but Roderick Williams and his sturdy crew (Nicholas Lester, Duncan Rock, Laurence Meikle) have the musical nous to sing better without losing the sense of adventure.

Les Indes Galantes Rousset Les Talens Lyriques

On Thursday, Christophe Rousset and Les Talens Lyriques bring Rameau's Les Indes Galantes to the Barbican Hall, London. MY REVIEW IS HERE. This is an extension of their tour which has taken in the Théâtre du Capitole, Toulouse, The Opéra Ntaional de Bordeaux and the Staatstheater Nürnberg. They are using a version established by Les Talens Lyriques based on the manuscript stored at the Toulouse library.  If you like nudity, the fully staged version is currently available on medici TV. 

At the Barbican, we're getting a concert performance, with a different cast. The staged version, directed by Laura Scozzi, frames the opera/ballet in a  woodland grove, where the nymphs and satyrs of Classical Antiquity cavort. The nymphs here aren't painted images, nor statues, but dancers Nothing inappropriate per se.  Hébé wears a little shift because: singers don't do naked. 

In a few hours we'll travel across continents and through time and spaces to locales the locals would never recognize. The first Entrée, Le Turc généreux unfolds on a beach. Émilie, in orange silk, is sunning herself, oblivious to the gathering storm clouds. So she gets picked up by a Turk, as does happen to tourists in the Med. But Rameau throws in a jolly little riff and Osman relents. Osman and Valère are mates, after all : "Au plus parfait bonheur il a droit de prétendre, Si la vertu peut rendre heureux"   

The William Christie/ Les Arts Florissants Les Indes galantes (Serban 2002) was so audaciously spectacular that all else pales in comparison.  Who can forget  the "clouds" flats floating in space, the volcano and the Inca headresses ?  Or the Red Indians with bison heads ? This new staging goes, instead for more down to earth humour. The trio of tourists who dance throughout the entire opera/ballet tell us we're with the Incas of Pérou because they drink cocoa, and wear souvenir hats. You can tell that this Les Fleurs is set in Persia because the women wear burkas, and that Les Sauvages are American because they go in for tacky advertisng signs. All a bit jokey, but what is Les Indes Galantes but humorous fantasy ?  If this staging is weak, at least we can listen better to the singers, and to Rousset and Les Talens Lyriques. The dancing in this version  is livlier and more  naturalistic than in Chrsitie/Les Arts Flo, though they saved a bit on costumes !

ENO Rodelinda Handel Hip and oddly HIP

The ENO's Rodelinda will shock some, but the real shock is that it's closer to Handelian values than one might expect.  Glyndebourne's 1998 Rodelinda was ground breaking and has pretty much defined the opera for modern audiences. The ENO doesn't have the budget for singers like Antonacci, Scholl and Streit, and no matter how good he is, Christian Curnyn could never get the ENO orchestra quite up to the level that William Christie got from the specialist OAE. Surprisingly,  the new ENO Rodelinda justifies itself rather well in its own terms.

Richard Jones's Rodelinda, designed by Jeremy Herbert, illuminates the music with a true Baroque palette: burnished gold, amber, emerald, silver and  cream. Action moves between small, confined "rooms" in the set, but this also reflects the music. This is an opera based on solo show pieces,  as each character reflects on his or her own perspective on proceedings, often misunderstanding other people's motivations. Everyone thinks Bertarido is dead, Garibaldo scams Grimoaldo and Eduige, and Bertarido stabs Unulfo, his best friend. Only when the characters realize that simplicity and tolerance are more important than self advancement do they properly reconcile "Dopo la notte oscura più lucido, più chiaro,più amabile, più caro ne spunta il sol quaggiù.Tal dopo ria sventura, figlio d’un bel soffrire, più stabile gioire nasce dalla virtù". At the ENO this is of course translated but it's worth quoting in the original since it refers to the contrasts of dark and light so central to the ENO production. Thus the final scene is specially beautiful. Grimoaldo blows up a giant statue, the symbol of earthly power and vanity. The stage is dominated  by the statue's huge arm bearing the name "Rodelinda" in elaborate baroque script. Love remains when all else is destroyed. The singers are dwarfed, their self interest subsumed by greater harmony. Perhaps one could read a political sub-text into this Hanoverian opera, but it's elegantly cloaked in Classical balance.

Modern tastes are shaped by 19th century operatic styles further  modified by movies and TV, so we've come to expect a much greater degree of realism than Handel and his audiences would have expected. The Glyndebourne Rodelinda, directed by Jean-Marie Villégier, was "modern" in the sense that it emphasized the undercurrents of emotional realism in the opera, giving 20th century audiences an insight into the opera's basic meaning. Richard Jones 's more stylized formalism is closer to the rough-and-ready world of Handel's era, when audiences saw opera as allegory rather than verité. Hence the singers at the ENO journey on travelators, so we can listen to the music unfold when there's no obvious action. Baroque audiences also loved special effects. They didn't have the technology to do video, but the ENO projections (by Jeremy Herbert and Steven Williams) are totally in keeping with the genre.

Rebecca Evans sang Rodelinda, and Susan Bickley's Eduige had was imposing vocally and visually. Iestyn Davies's Bertarido  was very good, his duet with Rebecca Evans in the final act particularly impressive.  What a joy this opera is for those (like me) who love the countertenor voice. Christopher Ainslie as Unulfo doesn't have as big a role but he makes his mark. Richard Burkhard sang Garibaldo, the "bad guy" as baritones should be in Baroque parlance. John Mark Ainsley is arguably the finest British Baroque specialist of our time, and at his peak would have been outstanding. He's still well worth hearing and has stage presence. He's also got guts, showing his bare chest and back, with a Rodelinda tattoo. Humour is very much a part of the humane message in this opera and the production accessed it well.

As in all productions, there are things to like and dislike. I'm not generally a Richard Jones fan, but this Rodelinda has more merits than some would appreciate.

photos: Clive Barda, courtesy ENO