2013 highlights and low lights

To start this summary of what I saw this year, I have to start with the statement, that I did not see all I wanted to see, not even locally. I mostly chose to see things that I felt I had to see, not things I wanted to see, given the chance. Thus, no Ballo at Opera Australia, and no Melbourne Ring either, since, it had initially been declared sold out. When I heard there was tickets available, it was too late for me to organise to go.

But, I also got to see some unexpected treats, in part due to some generous friends. Both the Carmen on the Harbour and the Verdi Requiem I saw via free tickets, and both I enjoyed immensely, even if they were not my peak highlights.

But, having said that, my first highlight of the year came in April, courtesy of a Met in HD production. I think it is fair to say that pretty much anyone that went to that Parsifal came away moved/stunned/shocked/wowed. What it was like live I can only imagine (I got lots of reports of "amazing" from people who went), but it burst forth on screen with an intensity often missed. I suspect the DVD of this production, will quickly become regarded as the one to judge others by. Both impressive musically and visually, it allowed the story to be told true to text, while modernising it in a way that made it more meaningful, not less. It was both traditional and modern, an exercise in direction that many opera directors would do well to watch and learn from, in my opinion.

The next highlight was finally hearing Bryn Terfel in concert. Not because he was in fine vocal form, or because he is one of the best singers around. But, rather, because he is that rare thing, the consummate showman in classical music. His performing will always be interesting, no matter how he is sounding, simply because he comes across as generous friend who wants you to like his singing, and who is a nice guy. I found his voice definitely showing wear and tear that night, but his performance was still entertaining and frankly, compelling. As I said at the time, maybe not the voice I wanted on recordings of the repertoire, but as a live experience, hard to beat.

Then, the next highlight was hearing Stuart Skelton in concert with the Philharmonia proving what an amazing singer he is. Seriously, I fail to understand why he is not better known, this is a singer who you need to go hear, any time you have the chance. And why his Lohengrin (or his Parsifal, for that matter) are not available on video, is one of the modern mysteries of opera (or at least, the recording industry)

I also got the chance to hear Eric Owens sing The Flying Dutchman, in a concert with the Sydney Symphony, and Orla Boylan and Ain Anger. Let's just say that they are all singers who if you do not know, you should. All singing roles that suit them, in concert with the forces that this opera begs for. If you have not heard a big chorus sing this, you have not heard it! This was far and away my highlight for concert of the year.

I have two choices for the best staged live opera I saw. I can't quite decide which was better. Both were well performed, in clever stagings that brought the stories to life. Both used minimal sets, focussing more on the performers to bring things to life. The stunning production of La forza del destino by Opera Australia was a dramatic and a vocal triumph for them. With a great cast, all singing amazingly, in  a production with no weak link (except the overlong music, Verdi really needed to cut some things out) This was a production where you really did feel their anguish and despair at what has happened.

But, I also can't go past the Sydney Chamber Opera production of Owen Wingrave, where on the smell of an oily rag, they produced riveting theatre that was more real than anything I have seen on stage. The cast were all impressive, but the stunning performance of Morgan Pearse in the title role was one of the best performances I have seen in person on stage. Even in an opera I had never heard before, which, to be honest, is not the easiest music to like on first listen, he held the audience in the palm of his hand the whole time, and his death at the end produced audible gasps of horror in the audience. You cannot get more vivid performances than that!


Sydney Chamber Opera - Owen Wingrave from Hospital Hill on Vimeo.

The Nose, or Shostakovich giving the Soviet system the finger

The Nose is really one of those pieces that defies description. Its manic and fun and full of invention, both a trifle about nothing, that also at the same time, makes it clear that beyond the absurd tale, there is indeed deeper ideas afoot. Not that they all appear in one quick sitting, but complexities certainly there are.

To start with, I have to say, this is one of the busiest productions I have ever seen. The height of the Met Opera theatre stage is taken advantage of in many ways. William Kentridge's staging from the outset does not attempt to treat this story naturalistically, with  scenic elements that only appear as they are needed. Kovalyov's bedroom, the barber's room, the pressroom, the police station. They were all suggested, rather than depicted fully, and always skewed, or indeed, bent as if in a surrealist painting. But, that added to the sense of a world gone mad, helping this seemingly light fancy on its way, inviting the watcher to pick up other thoughts thrown out along the way.

But, yet, everything about the plot happened, there was no attempt to ignore the story, rather the non realistic sets made the characters more real, helped the performers build a sense of other, that worked in this mess of a morality tale gone awry. Yet, tho messy, there was clearly a firm hand on the direction. Everything linked back to the central story and fed from it. Constant projections onto walls showed the passage of the Nose as it travelled around while free, or words from what was sung, or pieces of text that gave the sense of newspaper reports, the breathless sort that the tale would generate.

So, to the singers. First of all, dominating over the whole plot, the man with no nose, Kovalyov, was played by Paulo Szot, in what should be a career defining performance, if he was not already well known for being the Emille that made South Pacific popular again a few years ago.   Here, he shows himself far more than the good looking French seducer (indeed, it is hard to imagine a less likely role to follow Emille Debecque with than this one, while staying in fach) Truly, this is one of those roles that dominates everything else. He brought us a vision of a man totally lost in his world, with his circumstances turned upside down, and did it convincingly, while singing beautifully. In honesty, his was the only performance that really mattered, it all stood or fell on his shoulders. Needless to say, it stood up, and tap danced!!

Not to say that no other performance was good, far from it. But, after Kovalyov, you then have His Servant Ivan, the Police constable, the barber and the Podtochina's, with the rest all being cameo roles who appear for one scene, then disappear into the crazy ensemble. Really, no performer stood out, as bad or good, tho for sheer madness, the pretzel seller will remain in memory, as a good example of how to make a crazy outfit work.

But ultimately, this production is all Paulo's, (and the directors) I will leave you with some of his work from it. Feel free to click on the link below if you want to see who else featured (all were good btw)

Full cast list from the Met Archives

Lise Lindstrom shows how to do Turandot. (Royal Opera House cinema presentation)

Lise Linstrom singing "In questa reggia"


Turandot is always a bit of an odd opera. Its title role does not sing until after the first interval.And its a role that often seems to end up as being judged not by how well the lead soprano sings, but is she loud enough to be heard, because the role is such a cruel piece to sing, that only the largest voices can do it justice. Which often means we miss out on the other things this role needs. The ability to turn from the ice maiden into the woman in love in a short space of time. The ability to convey the idea that everyone is afraid of you.

So, for this cinema production of Turandot, we have a soprano who I only knew of by reputation. But, what a big reputation. People who heard her in London in the theatre for this run, described her as the best Turandot since Gwyneth Jones, without Jones' wobble. A big call, to be sure, but having heard her in the cinema I can see why. Lise brings a very loud focused voice to this role. Her voices is totally at her command, no wayward notes, no spread top, everything totally controlled. To be sure, her quiet notes are not always as pretty as some, but, when you can sing with such a potent clarion tone, so reliably, who really cares in this role? She portrays the ice cold princess well, yet also portrays the eventual realisation that she actually loves this man well. Why, we never really work out, but then, it is opera, do they need a reason, besides the glorious music? Not to mention, a truly extraordinary In questa reggia (see above)

So, in many respects, this performance was all about worshiping the current great Turandot. That is not to say that there were not other things good about it, But her performance stood head and shoulders above the others. The first act in some respects seemed dull, lacking in fire. Dare I say it was because we did not have our Turandot? Certainly no one else on the stage was making that sort of performance that stood out as amazing. When the best thing on the stage besides the Turandot is the combination of Ping, Pang and Pong, you know that the other leads lack fire.

The Calaf (Marco Berti) spent the first two acts basically doing a Pavarotti stand and bellow. Which is fine, if you can sing like Pavarotti. If you can't you really need to offer more. To be sure, he sang with a big bold Italianate sound, full of ardour, but he scattered off pitch notes freely around the stage, only really coming good both with physical acting and pitch in the final act. That the Royal Opera cannot provide a better tenor than Opera Australia did with Rosario LaSpina (which several people commented on in the cinema) probably says all you need to know.

Even the Liu of Eri Nakamura only really came good in her final scene. Her Signora ascolta gave every appearance of a singer trying too hard, of working to make the sounds, rather than trusting in her voice to do its job and focus on portraying her character. Again, Opera Australia has a history of great singers in the role with Hyeseoung Kwon, for example, singing this aria and leaving the audience teary eyed. Did not happen here. However, her final scene was much more affecting, and did bring a lump to the throats of many.

On the other hand, the energetic trio of Ping (Dionysios Sourbis) Pang (David Butt Phillip) and Pong (Doug Jones) were very strong performers. They took their long scene and made it memorable. Their interaction with the rest of the cast was also strong. How they kept the energy up to perform what amounted to almost ballet while still singing, was beyond me, but they did it, and did it well.

Also, credit must go to the ballet and chorus who performed admirably. With such a frenetic staging, the dancers seemed constantly on the move in every crowd scene, while in many scenes, it is the chorus who must carry the most music. The sounds produced by them continue to be some of the best opera choral work I around at the moment.

However, for all its frantic movement, clearly Asian inspired (I was seeing a mix of Chinese opera as well as the tai chi that the choreographer claimed) I still found this at its heart a very traditional production. There was a strong sense of place, the costumes were all clearly designed as ancient Chinese, and the story was basically told clearly, with very little deviation from what is written. And, the score and the libretto were allowed to work their magic. And it worked. It worked mainly because of the strength of the Turandot, but, it worked. And we knew that we had seen a great performer in what is her signature role. That the others failed to live up to her so prominently is something that the Royal Opera should be considering.

Rosario La Spina singing in the Opera Australia production

The post apocalyptic fertile land of the soul that is Parsifal

Start by playing that video, and let that sound start washing over you. That glorious rich, lush, languorous sound of music from Parsifal, conducted by Daniele Gatti, who conducted the performance I just saw. He chooses tempi that are rather slow, making it a longer opera than normal. But, he also gives a very good case for playing it slower, bringing out detail and generally wringing every last depth out of the score.

And what a score it is! Wagner's last opera is quite something if you are new to his work. Its long, and very meditative. Much of the opera people spend time explaining what has happened, or why something is happening. The action, such as it is, mostly happens in the second and third act, yet the first is over 2 hours long. Yes, that is a lot of character development, and backgrounding, but this is an opera where "time here becomes space" as Gurnemanz tells Parsifal. Its also an opera rich in meaning and symbolism, that people argue over, trying to get a grasp on what is it about, and why does it grip us so.

For me, it has always been about redemption, both personal and as a group. It is about trying to find your place in the world, and learning to accept it. There is also an element of the standard fantasy novel that revolves around a young hero who has to go through a series of trials to find his way in the world. Though, in this case, the mythology is based firmly on the holy grail myths of the medieval period, not something pulled out of the post Tolkein leftovers of so much bad writing.

So, as you would expect, The Met pulled out a very starry cast for this production. This was a joint production that was already mounted at Opera Lyon, but with a very different cast. The director has opted to allow the story to tell itself, while updating the setting to the current, or indeed, slightly into the future. The set mostly is a hillside that appears to be post some ecological disaster. The ground is dry and cracked, with a stream that runs down the slope with a bend in it, dividing the stage up. During the first act, the stream starts flowing red. Is it representing the wound of Amfortas who is being washed when it happens? Or reflecting on how he fell? Or is it a foretaste of the middle act set in Klingsor's castle, a nightmarish location where the floor is covered in blood, as if to give the impression we are inside the wound.

And yet, for all the non traditional elements of this production, it remains at its heart a traditional production. This is a production that has been stripped back to the basics. There are no amazing scene changes to dazzle the eye when we switch to inside the Castle of the Grail Knights. Rather, everything is outside. The costumes are all modern, and very plain, except for Kundry and Klingsor, who clearly fit outside the ordered world. Even the Flowermaidens have plain outfits, even if is just a plain white slip dress that gets wet in the blood.

But, for all that, it was a very carefully thought out production. The very ordinariness of the clothes, the barren landscape, the lack of gimmicks, it was all deliberate. This is a production where the performers were put front and centre. Where everything that was done, could be linked back to the score. To be sure, there were a couple of exceptions where certain things happened in ways that were not as written by Wagner, but in this modernist take on a traditional production, they made sense. And, never once did anything jump out as wrong, or jarring, it flowed logically and seamlessly to the expected conclusion.

So, to the cast. This was the sort of cast you expect when you go to The Met, but only rarely get anywhere, a cast where there is no weak link, where every lead performer is both well known in the opera world, and well cast. Where you just sit back and revel in the sheer beauty of what is unfolding in front of you, and loose yourself in the magic that is Wagner's Parsifal.

So, at the heart of Parsifal, we had the seemingly inexhaustible René Pape as Gurnemanz, the wise knight who is our guide through much of the action. In most operas, having sung as much as he did in the first act, his job would be done, yet in the third act, he is there mourning his friend Titurel, discovering the return of Parsifal. It is he who sees what has happened, and realises that truly he has found in him, the pure fool who will heal and redeem the knights. There is something about the humanity that Pape brings to this role. Its the only way to describe it, but he is the humane heart, his actions are driven by his love for his fellow knights, and humanity in general. It is hard to imagine others bettering this role, but he will remain the model against which I judge all others.

As Kundry, the almost eternal woman, we had the glorious voiced Katarina Dalayman. Another experienced Wagnerian, she worked to bring life to a character who seems to be different in each act. Here, she succeeded as much as can be expected. Her performance often felt like watching an amnesiac, as if Kundry could not remember what had gone before, and yet at others she was the all wise woman, who knows far too much. It worked effectively, even if the seduction of Parsifal ended up feeling like watching your mother try to seduce someone. Somehow the sexy got lost amongst the motherhood for me, leaving me unconvinced, except realising that there was a spell involved in bringing the attraction. And again, vocally, this was a big powerful, seeming tireless performance. To be sure, some of her quieter moments sounded less pleasing than her loud ones, but it was more a quibble than a complaint. This was a big sound, fully controlled and a seamless performance of a role she understood and lived.

As the wounded Amfortas, we had Peter Mattei, singing the role as if he was born to it. To be honest, I was not expecting him to be so successful in the role. For me, he was always more the lighter Mozartean voice. Shows how much you need to hear voices live to understand them I guess. However, he lived that role. The agony he faced, was painfully obvious with every move. His deliberate decision to crawl into his father's grave, to die with him and end the suffering was a logical step in his pain, as well as worked well to help hide the removal of the wound from his skin when time. And he sang the role well, full of anguish, yet still beautiful sounds.

Yet ultimately this is Parsifal of course, so the production depends on a tenor who can produce the goods. And yes, we had that. Jonas Kaufmann is both a consummate actor, and a powerful singer. Part of me wanted a different singer in this role, because I have a connection with two tenors who have made the role their own. Yet, really, who can fault Kaufmann? He gives all to the role. And brings the lost soul from the beginning to the man who brings wholeness to the knights. It really is a remarkable performance, proving why for many he is the go to singer for many of the Wagner tenor roles.

So, really, what can I say? This was a performance to marvel over, of an opera that dares to ask questions that do not always have answers. It challenges you to think about your actions, to look to yourself and your own actions. Will you rise to the occasion when the big decisions come as Parsifal did? Or, will you fail, and succumb as Amfortas? Yet, even as you ponder those questions, you are left with the glorious music, especially those big transcendent choruses, always demanding more. i fear they will haunt me for a long time to come. And I welcome this.

Thoughts post Trojans from The Met

Right, yes, I know the above link is not from Les Troyens from the Met but is from the Covent Garden production by David McVicar with Anna Caterina Antonacci, but such is the strength of her performance in Trojans, that any discussion about another production inevitably has to reference her, so I thought I would throw it in at the start. This is the finale of Act 2, the final scene in Troy before the opera moves to Carthage with Enée and his entourage, en route to Italy. It is without a doubt the most glorious mass suicide scene I know in opera, and ACA in the role of Cassandre is intensely haunting and musical. She lives the role of a somewhat maddened oracle, not wanting to see what she is seeing, and haunted by it. Her performance was mesmerising and gripping, as well as being beautifully sung. Friends who went reported being haunted by her for days after.

By contrast, the Met had Debbie Voigt, a very different singer. While ACA is very definitely zwischenfach, Debbie is defiantly dramatic soprano. She lacks the darkness of tone that ACA brings, and frankly needs in this role. She also reportedly found the lower range of it a challenge in some of the earlier performances. This I would believe. Having said that, Francesca Zambello's production also makes Cassandre a very different beast to McVicar. In McVicar, she revels in the oddness of being prophetic, even as the visions she sees frighten her. She is shunned only because she brings bad news, not because she is odd. In the Met, she is cast in the weird woman/witch/evil keep away mode, even though she seems eager to lose the visions. It is more her being prophetic despite wanting it, rather than clearly revelling in the role, as in the McVicar.

Its a valid choice, but the McVicar provides the more exciting performance. Yes, ACA is a better actress, but I think it is also the direction made it work. Having Deb Voigt run round the stage trying to get people's attention, only to have them all run away in fear made her seem less a figure we cared about, while ACA was defiant in her isolation, and seemed to almost revel in it, when people would not listen. A curious distinction, but one that helps to explain why one was vastly more compelling. It seemed more organic to the story, and less an idea imposed from the director, if you will.

Having said that, if I had not seen the Covent Garden production first, I would have been very happy with Deb's performance. She sang securely, with depth and feeling. This is a demanding role, and a big one, and she was convincing, just left me wishing I had seen her first, not second. On the other hand, if I had seen this production first, would I have bothered with the Covent Garden as well?

As her fiance, we had Dwayne Croft, who brought a larger voice to the role than I gave him credit from his stint in Das Rheingold as Donner. He sang as a man who clearly did not understand his wife to be. At times I was not convinced he was in love with her, rather, this felt more like an arranged marriage, yet they sang of love...

The other performer of note in the Trojan acts was of course Bryan Hymel, the surprise tenor of the Covent Garden Trojans, who replaced the ill Jonas Kaufmann. Here, he took over for Marcello Giordani, who pulled out, realising this role was no longer right for him (was it ever?) Bryan brings a huge bright tenor sound with clarion focus to this role. All I think I need to say about him is, if he is singing a big tenor role near you, make sure you go hear him. Hell, for that matter, you could probably hear him from outside most theatres, that voice has cut and heft to carry for days. And he can sing this role easily at 33!!!! (Enée normally goes to Wagnerians) Enée is a role that is already something of a specialty for him, and will remain so. He lives this role, singing it with passion and power, and also lyricism as required.

Having said that, special mention must be made of the chorus in this production. When the Met puts on their full chorus, with extras, you know the show must need it. There was (I believe) about 110 in the chorus for this production. It showed, and they sounded fantastic. They sang beautifully off and on stage, and portrayed their various roles well, be they soldier, sailor, farmer, wife, whatever.

After Troy, the next acts all move to Carthage where the beautiful Didon rules over a happy peaceful community founded after they fled from Phoenicia at the death of her husband. As Didon we had the glorious sounds of Susan Graham, with her sister played by Karen Cargill, one of the few none US based singers. As a pair, they were well matched, both big luscious voices and strong stage presences. Having said that, watching Karen Cargill is an entertaining experience all in itself. Unlike most singers, who when they sing the effort shows on their face, on Karen's face, there is no sign of the effort she is putting in to produce the sound. Sure, her mouth stretches open as she shapes the sounds, but her cheeks and eyes show no sign of the effort she is doing. There is an almost serene relaxation happening when she sings, allowing her to express what ever she wants, unencumbered by the effort to achieve the sounds she is producing. At times it seemed almost disconnected, but after seeing some appalling face pulling on stages recently as singers fought to produce the right notes, it was a very welcome change.

As Didon, Susan Graham produced glorious tones and a performance that started distant but approving of her subjects, to passionate lover of Enée, to unhinged wronged woman when she is left. She never once lost character or produced sounds that were not beautiful or musical. She also clearly enjoyed partnering with Bryan as her love interest.

Also featured were Kwangchul Youn as Narbal Didon's chief minister and Eric Cutler as Iopas, her court poet. Both sang well, bringing to life their roles, even if Iopas spends a lot of time onstage, but not singing.

At this point I also need to mention the ballet. Now, it is French grand opera, so I get you need ballet. But really, do we need ALL of it? The ballet in act 4 seems to take over half an hour. You also have ballet music in earlier acts. Surely some of the Royal Hunt music should be dropped to bring the length under control if you are going to do Les Troyen in one night? I mean, it is 5 hours of music, surely we can cut some of it? The ballet does seem an obvious place to shorten, especially if you decide to use it to re-enact some of the story. The whole story comes to a grinding halt for half an hour, then we have some discussion about the 2 lovers, then we get their glorious duet. Did we really need all the ballet to stop the story completely before that?

The next act of course is where everything goes horribly wrong for Didon. Enée abandons her then sings his biggest solo (see below) and after various of his group sing their own solos, he has harsh words with Didon and they sale off leaving her bereft. She then has a complete meltdown on stage and kills herself, prophesying of the coming of Hannibal from Carthage to destroy the city of Rome Enée is off to build.

Now, I have to say that the biggest difference between the two productions I have referred to would be the theatricality of the productions. One was an unashamedly modern mishmash of scenery that clearly represented specific places without caring about the time. It created great effects in a small space and forced you into its own world.

The other was a less showy event but that used more. More people, more space, more levels on stage. Yet rather than making you feel more in place, you felt less a part of the event. Too much was spent on creating the look of something, without actually being that thing. Somehow in not even trying to be historically accurate but socialogically accurate, the Covent Garden worked, while the Met production somehow failed, because it kept paying lip service to what it thought things should look like, without following through on them. So the modern items jarred against the authentic, stopping the illusion taking hold.

So, on the whole, I found the Met production a bit of a blancmange. Much of it was great, but I found things about it that left it feeling less than the some of the whole.

But, I'll leave you with Bryan singing his big aria in the final act, which is amazing.

A tale of two outings to the cinema

Right, I should have blogged about Les Mis last weekend, but it did not happen, so now, I will try to combine it with Un Ballo in Maschera in a Live at The Med in HD screening. Yes, I know that sounds an odd combination, but there is a reason.

One of these productions was full of gorgeous singing (almost uniformly well cast) set in a totally unbelievable setting, that only sort of worked, and, frankly removed the action about one level. The other was cast based on the fame of certain performers, not their vocal abilities, yet told the story much more effectively, with realistic performances that broke your heart.

So, first of all, Ballo. Apart from one person, I uniformly loved the singing in this production. Well cast voices, who brought their roles to life with passionate performances, mostly at, or close to, their peak of their careers. As you would expect at The Met (but often don't get) these were all luxury casting. Dmitri Hvorostovsky, the Siberian smoulderer, bringing his formidable talents to Renato, and Marcelo Alvarez as Riccardo, both convincing in their vocal performance, and well cast. Freaking Stephanie Blythe as Ulrica, the fortune teller, who comes on and dominates the whole cast for one scene, then never comes back. Yes, it is an important scene, but, wow, talk about luxury casting!!  Also fine was Kathleen Kim, bringing her schtick of coloratura and crazy to a role that is always a bit annoying. Yes, she sang it well, but some of the directing choices with her characters were rather odd. There were times when she should not have been overhearing things that she was clearly involved in. Remember to focus on the story you are telling guys.

Which leaves Sondra Radvanovsky. Well, lets say she has a big voice. And when she is not singing, she looks every inch the Countess she is here. But, please, someone send her to a good singing teacher. If you are singing at this level, you should not take till after you have sung your big solo scena in the second act to really start producing pleasant sounds. And frankly, even then it was more a relief that it sounded better, rather than this is sounding good. I suspect it is to do with how she is singing and the unnecessary tension she is creating, because she is constantly producing facial expressions that do not relate to what her character is singing. It sounds to me, like she needs to learn to stop trying, and learn to let the voice be. Then again, what do I know? I am just a amateur who watches these things, and have not sung in anger (or otherwise) for ages.

It has to be said tho, this is a production for those that like things frenetic. At times there was movement for the sake of movement, at other times it made sense. All the scenes were set on a steep rake within a deliberately not square space, with every feature bar the floor moved at times. It worked, but not as well as it could have. The sets were all very bare, with only the props needed or mentioned in the libretto appearing. So, rooms would only have one chair in them, then others would be brought in by the chorus and taken out again..

To be honest, I was not convinced as a work of theatre. Yes, it was theatrical, but as a piece of storytelling, it failed dismally. You had great singers trying to throw there all in, and you found it hard to care for them, simply because there was nothing remotely believable about it. Most of the time it had almost a dreamlike quality to it, but not in a way that worked with the story. In the hands of a skilled director who knew how to milk emotion, the ending would be tragic and bring on all the emotions. Here? We wanted to care, but were left with a bunch of spoiled kids who were caught out playing up. Which is a shame.

Because if there was one thing that Les Mis does well as a movie, is bring all the emotions. The battle scenes will make you cry in Les Mis, because the characters have been brought to life. The students all spring forth larger than life (and most of them sung really well) demanding you respond. And you do too, with Jean Valjean at the end, because he has been made human.

But, Les Mis is a singer's musical, a story driven romp that relies on good singing and humanising of a huge bunch of characters as a tale of redemption of two men plays out over the years. Ultimately, this story was not as effective as it could have been. Who ever thought Russell Crowe would make a good Javert has clearly never sat through a good production of this in the theatre. It is a big long sing, and it only works if you believe him in his big numbers. If they do not let you get inside his head and understand him, you have failed. Miserably. Javert needs to be seen as a rule bound do gooder who actually thinks he is doing the right thing chasing Valjean down, till he finally realises that Valjean has done his time, and that he has lived a good life, AND brought good into the world through others. Compared to others, Crowe is a wooden log, and his singing was, well, I guess calling it singing is polite.

So, you have one half of a morality tale that fails. Does the other half work? Yes, absolutely. You get a sense of what goes on inside Valjean's head. You see him reduced to nearly human by the justice system, then given another chance by the Bishop, then rebuild his life. His rescue of Fantine worked to convince that he now knew he had to do what he could to undo any mistakes he made. So much more expression came across his face, and in his voice, even though the role is wrong vocally for him. (I personally would have rather have seen him as Javert, it would have been a much better movie)

The other roles? Well, I wanted the Enjolras to play Marius. Much better voice, much nicer screen presence. But not a star. Then again, Marius is a drip, so it really doesn't matter, does it? Eponine was great. She sang out, and played the lovelorn to the hilt. Altho, usually, the suggestion is she has been sleeping with him, which never came across in this. A conscious decision to play to the prudes perhaps?

Cosette, as sung by Amanda Seyfried, well, she is pretty and sweet, which really, is all she is expected to be. Her one moment of spunk and rebellion is to fall in love with a man after seeing him twice. And they are supposed to build a happy life together…

Fantine? Well, Ann Hathaway brings ALL THE FEELINGS. Yes, she brings them in capitals. There is nothing subtle about her role. Then again, it is not meant to be. Her death tho, is moving and provides ample motivation for much that follows.

Which leaves the Thenardiers, played by Pirellli and Mrs Lovett, err, Sascha Baron Cohen and Helena Bonhom Carter. To be honest, they did not work for me. They were portrayed as fleecing every single customer who came in, to the point of ridicule, rather than a little bit here, a little bit there. It went from being funny to being grotesque, and lacking in humour and humanity. And neither really are known for their singing…

So, if you have never seen a good Les Mis in the theatre, this is a good introduction to it. If you have, give it a miss unless you want a good cry. There is nothing uniquely special about it, other than the fact of seeing distress writ large across the screen. This production does play up the poverty and disease and general lack of care for the poor, in ways that most productions cannot. That is probably the only thing that it does better than most productions can.

As for Ballo? Well, I would have liked to have seen it live in the theatre, not on a screen. I might have changed my mind about some of the things if I saw it live, but I doubt it. However, will I go see it here at OperaAustralia? Maybe. Its a production prepared by a company noted for putting their own stamp on things in ways that do not always help bring the story to life. This is a story that needs to be treated seriously to work. And with the casting budget at Opera Australia? Well, we won't have these singers that is for sure!

Adés' The Tempest

Well, that was a ride and a half.

Seriously, this is one of those operas that takes you, immerses you in its world, and when you come out to the day to day world, you are left thinking, can I go back? That world is much more vital and alive. Not that I would mind you, its just that this is the power of this work, the music, the staging and the performers come together in a complete whole that leaves the natural world seem dull in comparison. Then again, this does seem appropriate for a story with such fantastical elements in it. A storm that is conjured up to wreck a boat and shipwreck the Neapolitan Court on the very island that the man who was deposed by them lives with his daughter? From round one, the story asks you to suspend disbelief. And that does not let up until the end. The fact that we do, says all you need to know about this production. It really does work from go to wow, leaving you feeling you have seen Something Special.

But why? Well, I suspect the music has a lot to do with it. Thomas Adés's music is every thing you could hope for. It ranges from the ferocious for the storm at the start, to just plain gorgeous when the lovers unit, with lyrical, singable lines throughout, unless you are of course Ariel, but more about that later. The music also totally reflects the characters too. The young lovers get beautiful long lines to convey their feelings, Prospero and the other leading court figures tend to be exclamatory, as people used to getting their own way. The chorus tend to spend their time setting mood, not getting big sings, but singing snippets of text that convey how they are feeling.

Oh yes, the text. This was the only weak point in the whole show. Seriously, so many freaking rhyming couplets? Was that REALLY necessary? I mean, I get that having a libretto in verse would make setting it easier for some composers, bringing out an innate music to the language. And, that, Adés has achieved in spades, but, do we really need the continuous rhymes? I suspect if I was not paying attention to them with the subtitles, I would not have noticed, but with some characters it was needed (e.g. Ariel), while others it was not.

Speaking of which, the performers. Really, there were no week links here. (as you would hope with The Met) If all operas were as well cast as this was, I would be a very happy boy. But they are not, so I am going to single out a handful.

First of all, there is no escaping the magisterial performance of Simon Keenleyside as Prospero. He strides the stage overseeing all the action, when he is not taking part in it. Frequently he can not be seen by the performers, but only by the audience, but he makes it work. This is a performance that would make him a star, if he was not already. The man cannot sing a note wrong in this. Then again, it was written with him in mind. It needs a singer who can act without singing, while still being able to sing up a storm on demand. The only person I have heard live I would trust in it would be Teddy Tahu Rhodes, purely because he is that sort of stage animal.

As for Ariel the spirit, well, Audrey Luna is something freaky, in a good way. The writing for the role reflects that Ariel is a creature of the air. Written for a coloratura, this role sends the singer way into the stratosphere vocally, and well beyond what would normally be considered usable. This helps to create the idea of Ariel as not of the normal world. Her line is frequently spiky, reflecting the fact that while she is controlled by Prospero, she is a character who exists beyond that also, and chafes against the restrictions, and longs to be free. It works very well.

On the other hand, Caliban, the other "other than human character" is much more earthbound. His music is more lyrical and human, yet he is clearly not. As played by Alan Oke, he is a tortured creature longing to regain his birthright, as ruler of the island. He also longs to marry Miranda, but when she rejects him near the end, saying basically "look at you, its unthinkable" we realise no one sees him as human, even if we are not sure what he is.

As the two lovers, Alek Shrader and Isabel Leonard sing beautiful music beautifully. They convincingly play the lovers who meet and fall in love after meeting. That we can believe this easily is helped by them being film star gorgeous, and with voices to match. The duet they sing just before the interval is in many ways the heart of this piece. It demonstrates the power of love to overcome all, even the power of Prospero and Ariel's magic, freeing Ferdinand from his prison.

But, ultimately, like any opera, this stands or falls on the quality of the performances. And in this case it really does stand tall. And proud. And, I loved every second.

 

 

Cunning Little Vixen.. Indeed

So, Cunning Little Vixen, hey? An opera I knew of, but had never seen. So thanks to the generosity of ABC Classic FM and the wonders of cinema, I got to see the Glyndebourne production.

And what a production it is. Truly sumptuous and beautiful, yet playful and bringing a fanciful story to life..

 

 

So, first off, let me say, I have never seen a production of this before. And, well, I had no idea it was going to be so funny! Like belly laughs in the theatre funny. But it was. And it is. Funny.

But, the music you say? Well, Janacek would have been pleased, I am sure. The orchestra sounded both lush and brash, with spiky alternating with lyricism as seems to be Janacek's way. Vladimir Jurowski lead them with a very sure hand. Melly Still has directed a gorgeous production with amazing costuming and sets.

Now, about the performers…

As the Vixen, Lucy Crowe was a lot of fun. She had the feisty minx down pat. Was she as successful with the love scene? Possibly not, but that really is a small part of the story, not dominant, so it does not matter as much. She sang beautifully throughout and appeared to be having a ball. We certainly had a ball watching her.

Sergei Leiferkus as the Forester at first seemed to be a bit out of sorts, but he grew into the role as the evening progressed, which is just as well as his biggest vocal demands are at the end. You ended believing in him as someone who loved this forest, even as he was also clumsily rustic earlier.

But for me, the biggest vocal treats were two of the minor players. I loved the voice of William Dazeley as Harasta the poacher and Mischa Schelomianski as the Parson and Badger, both deep rich voices full of resonance. Yes, I know, how surprising! I particularly wished that Harasta was a bigger part, simply to hear more of that voice.

Of course, this production is very much about the animals.  My favourites were definitely the hens. A chorus of hens, who get attacked by a fox. What could go wrong? (smirk) They really were hilariously funny. All preening desperately for the attention of the rooster, but most ending up dead thanks to our heroine.

But ultimately, this production stands or falls by the effect. Do the animals tell you something? Do you get a sense of having seen something life affirming? Are you reminded of a world out there, beyond your immediate surrounds? And for me, the answer, resoundingly, was yes. This was a production both funny, and with heart, that truly rare beast. And left me saying "more please"

 

 

Enough regietheatre!

I want to talk about something, but I am not quite sure how to describe my problem.  Basically I want to talk about two DVD's I have watched recently and how they compared and why one annoyed me intensely, and one didn't. But at the same time, I want to explain why it was not just a knee jerk reaction, but rather, it was a reflection on why I think so much of opera, and especially German opera, is heading down a dangerous path, that will end in tears, not the glory they seem to feel.

I would have liked to have started with videos from the relevant DVD's but youtube seems not to have any of either of the relevant ones, so, here are a couple that may help you understand.

Exhibit A

Exhibit B





Ok, now you get a sense of what I am talking about, the conflict between opera as bringing extant text to life versus bringing the director's ideas and nightmares to life while singing something that may or may not have anything to do with what they are surrounded by. I jest, but you get my drift.

The particular DVD's were Tannhauser as performed by The Danish Opera vs Das Rheingold as directed by Herbert von Karajan in a production created purely for film. Needless to say, the Danish one (directed by Kasper Holten) was the one that annoyed me intensely, while Karajan the traditionalist was the one that stuck to the storyline allowing the story to tell itself. It also made me wish that he had been able to do the other 3 operas in the Ring cycle as intended. Not because I think he was a gifted director, but because he was happy to allow the story to tell itself, without feeling the need to add his personal ideas to intrude into the story.

On the other hand, Kasper Holten's direction involved him writing a new scenario, and then shoehorning the opera into that. Now, in theory, I have nothing against that, so long as you can make it work. To do that, you have to make sure everything can be made to work within your scenario. And that the subtitles/subtitles do not make people laugh out loud because they go against everything your scenario states. Which happened for me on several occasions.

I guess part of my problem is that I come from a background of not seeing a lot of opera, but knowing a lot of operas from their music. At one stage, I had performed in more operas than I had seen. So, as a result, while I know the works, I am not always familiar with what particular performers are famous for doing on stage, but rather how they sound doing a role. So, for me, the operas first and for most are about what is written in the score. The idea that performed opera should be about something more than the music and words, but rather about the director's own neuroses and fixations I find frankly annoying. I mean, it is not as if any of the composers were not a mass of contradictions and fears and stuff like the rest of us, far from it! Many of them, lets be honest, are people that we would not want to know in person, or find frankly offensive if we met them in person.

But that is not my concern. I mean, some of my favourites were horrid people. Wagner is well known for being horrible to everyone who knew him. But, that was not the point.

My concern is more about a need to respect the work. These are works (in most cases) that have stood the test of time. The vast majority of operas that are performed regularly are over 100 years old. They continue to be performed because they speak to us, because they fill our lives with something more. They speak to us through the combination of music, story and words. The words inevitably ending third, not because they are lesser, but how many of us speak multiple languages and can catch the words sung at us across the room? We get the story, but the meaning is carried by the music and the actions on stage, as well as the words, (and by the surtitles in the theatre, assuming we can see them), and how that is brought to life before us.

So, if the staging does not bring the story to life, but rather detracts from our understanding of the story, how can it be a good thing? Unless your whole purpose in going is to see colour and movement and hear pretty sounds? And, if that is the case, why bother with opera? I mean, operas are all about life at the extreme, where life is dangerous, intense and confusing. Its not for nothing that many of the best operas deal with the myths and legends of our past that we have created to explain the world that we struggle to understand, its because that is how opera works best, by making our most primeval stories into art and sanity.

So, if at its heart, opera is about telling the stories that matter to us, why do we settle for stagings that end up leaving people more confused than when they start? I mean, for that matter, if the story that is being told matters so little to the director and those in charge of the company producing it, why bother with staging it? Why not stage something they like? Like, something they wrote perhaps? Oh, yes, well, that might not work out so well, hey? Who wants to see something that no one knows about? But a known piece of work that is reworked by modern artists? Which sounds great, except most of the time it seems that our understanding of the work, is not helped but hindered.

So, you see where I am at. Why should I want to go see something that has as its focus, not what the writer's intentions, but what those who put it together seem to have as fixations? Why should I be expected to have to choose what I go to see based on who is directing it, and whether I can cope with his (or her) nightmares enacted on stage, rather than just worrying about whether I like the particular show, or whether the performers in question have the abilities to sing the roles?

I want to go and see and hear things that are special. I want to go and experience the other, to get a sense of things beyond myself. I also want to come away thinking about the story and the plot and the music, and not "How fucking stupid was that thing they did in the third act to cover the plot hole they created" which was what I thought when I watched Tannhauser.

*end rant

Thoughts that arose after seeing "Wagner's Dream"

Ok, so I have now seen "Wagner's dream" - the documentary to pull more money for the Met. Sorry, raise the profile of The Met's Ring cycle. That was a bit cynical wasn't it? It's actually worth seeing if you went to the Ring operas from this new production, either at the opera, or at The Met itself. And yes, I am glad I saw it.

But, for me, what was most telling is what was not covered. Yes, I get that the machine, and the staging was the big deal about this new production. And, to be sure, this is probably what most people were interested in, but, really, that is only one part of what goes into making a production like this.

Where was the sections of the orchestra rehearsing with James Levine, before he had to leave for health reasons? Or him working with some of the singers? Or, how about some stuff of Debbie Voigt working on learning the words and music of what is a humungous role, which she had never learnt before? I mean, even the preparation of some individual scenes, which were shown, in every case focused on the interaction of the characters and the machine, not even once did I hear a performer talk about motivations or "how do you want me to play this scene?"

Of course, I do know why none of this featured.

This was a production by a director, who while known for innovation, is not exactly known for depth. This is not a production to make people discuss what was meant, or why someone did what, it was opera as spectacle, as a literal reading, utilising technology to bring things to life that have always been essentially unstageable.

My spies, who include people who sang in the show, inform me that they did not have much in the way of interaction with Robert LePage. Most of the blocking, that is, the building up of how the characters move around and interact was worked out with assistants. LePage was more focussed (dare I say, obsessed?) with his monster of a set, and all its technical challenges.

Yet ultimately, what matters with any opera, in the end, is the music, the characters and the performances. Do we believe in them as individuals enough to care what happens? Are the musical values strong enough to make us care? And, is the music working to strengthen the performances, or do those actually work against the music being sung?

And to be honest, having seen this production in cinema, and now having seen the documentary, I am truly convinced that what worked owed most to Richard Wagner, then to James Levine and his musical staff, then the performers and finally to Robert LePage's organisation. This, for all its marketing as an innovative production, was really at its heart a very traditional telling of the story. Yes, the set was unusual, and used in interesting ways, but that does not detract from the fact, this is a very traditional Ring.

And I say that, not meaning it in a bad way. This is a Ring cycle to show to people who do not "get" Wagner. It presents the operas in a way that is clear, does not clutter the stories with unnecessary details and is performed by people who mostly are at the top of their careers. There are a couple of smaller performers who, in the performances screened in cinemas, seemed outclassed, but they were minor roles, compared to most.

But, Wagner is expected to offer more. As a writer, he was concerned much more with the meaning of the tale, than just the tale itself. Normally, in modern productions, you come away with a sense of what the director thought the operas were about. You gain a sense of what his or her pet theories are, or his choice of things to fetishise. With this production, you only get opera as spectacle and storytelling. Which, while enjoyable, does leave you wondering, "is that it?" I think for the length of time we commit, we (and Wagner) should expect more.

Ernani, from the Met, or, meet my new diva

Ok, first up. This was my first experience of Ernani. Sure, I knew a couple of the arias, and the basic story, and it was early-ish Verdi, but that was it. I had thus expected the strong choruses, florid vocal lines that require big voices, with a plot that belonged in a South American soap opera.

Well, that pretty much sums up the basics, I guess, so now, down to business. First, the sets in this production are stunning. The opening scene looked like the ruins of some old castle, with just some walls and a staircase up the side left. The next scene inside Silva's castle, featured a massive painting on one wall with a huge couch in front of it, massive doors at the back, with about ten steps up to it. The next act was outside at Silva's castle, again, on a massive staircase. Then the last two acts featured the same staircase with different things around it, the tomb of Charlemagne in act 3, which was then hidden by a wall, to make it Ernani's castle at the end.

You notice something common there? Yes, all huge sets, all featuring stairs used extensively throughout the opera. In fact, it was normal to have people singing on the stairs in each act. Now, I do not know about you, but I do not normally make it a habit of stopping and discussing the days events on stairs normally, but it does at least allow for a chorus to be spread so you can see them all, and they did look effective. It also made for attractive groupings of the leads, in ways that also helped disguise big height differences.

Now, I have to say, Marcello Giordani did leave me a bit underwhelmed in this role. As Ernani, or, Don Juan of Aragon, his is a serviceable tenor but not really great. A couple of times I noticed some hoarseness suggesting maybe he was just tired, but he really did not sound like he belonged on the same stage as some of the others performing.

Likewise, I found Dmitri Hvorostovsky somewhat underwhelming. Somehow he lacks the power and forcefulness I would expect of this role. The odd thing about that though, is he seemed much freer and more powerful vocally during his recites, as if he was trying to hold back in the arias and ensembles to produce a more beautiful tone. If so, it was not working, it just left me annoyed..

Now, on the other hand, Ferruccio Furlanetto proved once again, he is one of the best basses singing Verdi at the moment. His is a big dark bass voice that he uses expressively to good effect. If he sang the cabaletta after his act 1 aria slower than I expected or wanted, I tend to suspect it was our conductor Marco Amilliato, not the singer, who was responsible. I am not saying he is a bad conductor, just not a great one. Having said that, the current Met conductor problems are well known, and tonight's conductor is one of the ones who has been adding more duties because of it.

Now, to the undoubted star tonight, Angela Meade. The first thing that needs to be said here, is she has only been singing professionally for a handful of years. Indeed, her professional debut, was when she jumped in to this production, replacing an ailing Elvira, in 2008. Her singing was quite frankly amazing for someone with so few productions under her belt. I did not get any sense at any time she was ever under stress as she powered her way through Verdi's tangled lines. This is not a role you give to a performer for their debut, it is a role for a soprano at the height of her powers. That Angela can rise to the ocaision so well says something about her abilities, and then for her to outshine her colleagues at the same time says even more.

For make no mistake, there was no doubt who was tonight's star. She proved that not only does she belongs amongst such starry company, she vocally leaves them for dead. Once she grows as an actor to match her singing abilities, she will dominate the opera world like the singer who many already compare her to, Dame Joan Sutherland.

Gotterdammerung in HD

I admit to approaching this review in 2 minds. Do I write my normal review, or do I write a love letter to Deb Voigt's immolation scene? I am not being silly. Her immolation scene IS that good. The rest of the performance that we saw in the cinema was mostly fantastic, but that huge final sing that Deb did was truly something else again. Just so that you know what I am talking about, here is one of the better sounding immolation scenes available on line:



http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=2581375664047517259

This was Eva Marton singing Brunnhilde, I have no idea where, but it gives you an idea what I am talking about if you do not know the piece.

This is sung at the end of a 6 hour opera! This is what brings it to a close. Tonight, listening to Debbie Voigt sing this music, whatever hesitations, what ever doubts I had about her as a successful Brunnhilde were swept away. She took charge and sang her heart out in a way we wish we got all the time, but rarely get. This was singing (and acting) of the highest order that left me shocked. Do not get me wrong, Debbie Voigt is a very good singer, and one of the few who can successfully negotiate the demands of Brunnhilde at The Met, with its barn of a theatre. But I was not expecting to be shocked out of my seat with brilliant singing at the end of the opera. The only conclusion is she was holding back enough to really let rip at the end and stun us all insensible. It worked!!!

But as for the rest? Well, really, there were no weak links. The Norns at the start all sang beautifully, even if their costuming and makeup was quite unflattering (occupational hazard in Wagner unfortunately)

Jay Hunter Morris continues to grow in his Siegfried performances. Give him another ten years, and he will either be truly fabulous, or his voice will be shot. I am not sure which but I am hoping for fabulous. As it is, he is really bringing the character to life beautifully. If his voice is a bit small for the role, well, that is something we have to live with. Siegfried Jerusalem was a freak of nature, and those tend to be few and far between.

Also stunning was Hans-Peter Konig as Hagen. Seriously, his is a voice born to play villains, big dark and beautifully expressive. Eric Owens in the cameo as his father was also his usual great self, continuing his outstanding success in the role.

And of course, the chorus were their normal amazing self. Seriously, that number of singers all working brilliantly together is amazing, and they did it well..

Which brings me to the production…

The Machine continues to be its mix of wonderful and infuriating. Wonderful in that so much of it works so well. Infuriating for those times when they seem to be doing things, just for the sake of doing it. Yes, it is great to have so much flexibility. But, that does not mean you have to use it all the time!!! Going through about three different stages each time the scene changes begins to get a bit old very quickly. And yes, I get that water features prominently in this opera. But do you have to constantly have it featured in the projections on the machine? It probably explains why regular toilet breaks are a must in this opera!!!

Something I have not mentioned much in my previous comments is the costumes. Part of that reason is that most of the previous operas are full of supernatural characters, gods and demigods and the like, so you do expect them to have out there costumes, rather than something normal. But most of this opera the characters are fully human, normal people in a medieval world. Their costumes worked in with that well, and it was the first time I noticed how well.

Oh, the other thing that Gotterdammitslong (as I call it) stands and falls on, is how well the staging of the ending is. Does it tie up the loose ends, does the burning work convincingly, is it believable? Well, to be honest, yes and no. It was not believable for the cataclysmic ending of the world with hope for renewal that we are led to expect. Yes, the important bits (Siegfried, Brunnhilde and Grane) burnt up, the subtitles indicated that Valhalla was going to be burnt (not that we saw it ever in any of the operas) and then the Rhine came up at the end and everything was brought to a calm serene ending. Yes, cathartic. Cataclysmic? No, and with everything at their disposal, I frankly expected more. But, considering the performance I had just sat through, I was happy with that. Not a perfect ending to a perfect Ring Cycle (is that even possible?), but one that got the important bits right, and left you knowing you had just witnessed something extraordinary. Really, should you ask for more?

Faust, or what could have been…..

Right, before I start, a confession. This is the first time I have seen a complete production of Faust. Any version of Faust, let alone Gounod's opera. I mean, sure, we all know the basic story. Old guy does deal with devil (or facsimile there of), gets youth, money, girl, loses girl and loses soul to devil by end. Its an old story, and, to be frank, the old stories usually are pretty good for operas, because the reason they are still remembered is they speak to us in ways that are meaningful Often, they speak to us in ways that change as we do. And of course, it is an opera that we all know bits of, as well as how the story goes.

So, Faust from The Met, in cinema release, with three outstanding singers in the leads and that new Canadian whizz kid conductor, in a new production, should be fabulous right?

Yeah, that was my thought too. Sadly, the director (Des McAnuff) has somehow failed to make this work. I suspect if I knew the opera better, I could give a better explanation, but all you really need to know is he failed to tell the story in a way that made it really live.

But first, back to the performers. As Faust himself, we had Jonas Kaufmann proving himself everything we have come to expect from him. Committed, with that beautiful well produced tone. He has the strength to carry through this long role, without tiring, despite the demanding music he sings. The fact that he can act as well, is a bonus, as is the fact he is very pleasing to the eye as well! As a performer to carry this opera, he would be one of my first choices, if I were in that position.

As Mephistopheles, Rene Pape too, was sensational. Really, these two seem rarely able to do wrong. They are both at, or approaching the peak of their performance abilities and on stage prove that their reputations are well deserved, unlike some performers, who seem unable to perform as well outside the recording studio.

On the other hand, Marina Poplavskaya, to me, while a great singer, sounds lost in this role. Vocally, she sounded too much like she was singing in her native Russian a lot of the time. I mean, in the right role she is stunning. But this role, is not hers vocally. The role needs a brighter cleaner sound than she seems able to produce. Having said that, her Jewel Song was fabulous, and I could well imagine her being cast on the strength of that alone. But, as many people will tell you, that aria is not typical of the role as a whole. On the other hand, she really did live the role. She was Marguerite, just a shame she does not sound right as her.

Of the others, Valentin definitely deserves praise. He was totally believable as the brother who was conflicted but could not forgive his sister her sins, even on his deathbed. Russell Braun sang with a powerful baritone, suggesting a big future ahead of him.

In the pit, Yannick Nézet-Séguin proved once again he is a young conductor with a big future ahead of him. He was able to keep the large forces of the orchestra and chorus well controlled, while maintaining a strong sense of mood from the atmospheric writing of Gounod.

Which leaves me with the director. Now, before anyone calls me reactionary, let me say that an updated setting of an opera can work, and often work very well… Indeed, in some cases they can make a work accessible, bring new life to a story and make it relevant to a modern audience. This is not one of those times.

I mean to my mind, Faust is about wish fulfilment, a fable if you like, about how you should be very careful what you wish for, because what you want is rarely what you need, and the consequences are often too much to handle. Fine, in theory, and it sounds like something that could be translated to a modern era without a problem.

There is one slight problem with that. Faust is very much a product of an era long gone. One where christianity was more what defined the world we lived in than science. Where a scientist was always a bit suspicious, not a trusted and valued part of our society.

So, in his wisdom, (because a director always knows better than the original creators, right?) the director decided to set it at the time of the second world war. Faust became an atomic physicist working on the atomic bomb (I do not recall the French having the bomb till long after that!) So, after moaning about his life and being about to drink the poison, Mephistopheles appears in a very snazzy cream suit and hat, and proceeds to seduce Faust in to the idea of having what ever he wants. Faust chooses youth, but of course, Mephistopheles gives him so much more. The story from then on takes off on its normal trajectory, more or less, though there were a couple of very odd things that stood out like sore thumbs, as if the director had no idea how to make them fit. (Including an atom bomb going off!)

Having said that, there were some good ideas, mostly badly executed, in the production.

The set was designed with two circular staircases going up out of sight at the front of the stage, one on either side. These were frequently used by Faust and Mephistopheles to go from one place to another, as if they were part of Mephistopheles powers, enabling him to easily travel where ever he wanted. Except sometimes he did not use them when he clearly should have, to fit the idea….

And the chorus. Such an integral part of Faust. Frequently so badly handled. Whose idea was it to put one door (!) on stage at the front, then to have all the chorus go in and out thru that for the soldiers' chorus scene when they returned? Really? It LOOKED awkward, and of course, the chorus had to all pile in before they could start to sing. And the ending? If you are going to have your angelic chorus on stage (Normally they would be offstage I would assume), and you have a set with a cat walk on either side of it, surely your angelic chorus (or those the audience see) should be up high on that cat walk, singing down to Marguerite, that she has been redeemed? Not on the stage floor with her? Oh, and making her walk up all those stairs to ascend into heaven? Surely you could have done something better than that?

But then, after all that? It all turns out to be a dream, from between when Faust actually did drink the poison at the start, and him dying. Because, right after Marguerite goes to heaven, there is a quick change and there is Faust looking old again like at the start, holding the beaker of poison, right before he collapses to the ground at the end. To me, that was the real insult. I mean, sure the story is quite unbelievable to many, but if you have to change the ending (and weaken its only happiness), surely you should just start with a different opera? Maybe get someone to write a Faust opera that fits with your ideas? Because, sadly, this ending was far too clumsy to work.

And really, I guess that is my big complaint with this production. It was clumsy. Things failed, not for lack of good intentions, but in their execution. And with the resources he had available to him, and the performers on hand, that is simply not good enough.