Ravel Double Bill at RCM

7/12/13

Ravel's operas are an odd choice in some ways for a student showcase production because they rely so little on vocal display and contain few roles that could be considered foundational for operatic careers. On the other hand the situation comedy L'heure espagnol provides an immense textual and dramatic challenge in the realm of rapid fire Gallic farce, and the fairy tale parable L'enfant et les Sortileges an object lesson in precise physical and vocal characterisation in each of the tiny roles that comprise the opera's mosaic structure.

Unfortunately James Bonas's double bill production did these young singers few favours. L'heure espagnole is a 'bubble of fancy' to steal Oscar Wilde's phrase, but as with any piece of theatre, we have to believe in the characters and situation and be moved by this set up before they can be truly funny to us. Here each character was instead reduced to a bland caricature floating around in an awkward, spacey set (by Ruari Murchison) which proved unhelpfully restrictive to the action. Containing nothing but a table and the two clocks in question as well as a clock face floor and spiral stair case, this set gave the whole thing the feel of an abstracted psychological setting, which might have made sense had the physical action hadn't been directed as a slap stick pantomime. The singers continually addressed the audience, always a difficult line to walk, and here it wasn't at all clear what the audience's function was within the opera/drama, as in who were we meant to be? What grated most on a purely practical level was that the clocks in which the characters are continually hiding in had open bottoms which were shown to the audience every time they were lifted, instantly destroying the illusion that the person was still inside. Of course we all know that they are not in there, but when we watch a show we buy into the make believe reality in front of us; carelessness like this interrupts and shatters our fragile illusions and unceremoniously ejects us back to our critical minds. Hard to think how something this basic was missed. 

 

L'heure was however saved by the high musical values of the show. Under Michael Rosewell, the RCM opera orchestra made a truly ravishing sound, warm waves of glitter and gold, with the effect that Ravel's masterpiece sounded something like the most luxuriantly gorgeous film music you've ever heard, even though composed a quarter of a century before Hollywood's golden age. The fact that everyone on stage overacted to such a great degree cannot be blamed on these young artists - if it applies to the entire cast we can usually safely blame the director. Musically all were good, but Kezia Bienek stood out as Concepsión - this is a voice of considerable power, incisive beauty, and is strong in every register. One senses that there is yet more to be unlocked and I look forward to seeing her sing again.


L'enfant et les Sortileges proved slightly more successful staging wise, Ravel's cascading sequence of images registering clearly in the first half, each character obviously making its mark on the child. Then in the transition to the garden scene, instead of a forest we got a return to the clocks of L'heure, via hanging chains and cogs - a curious way of binding the two shows together because its expressive function wasn't at all obvious. There was such chaos at the work's climax that in the fracas I and my companion totally missed the child's moment of contrition and reparation. As I said in the opening paragraph, the fragmentary, non showy nature of the piece makes it hard to single out young singers for special praise, but again all were up to the challenge vocally and Rose Setten's Enfent was great fun to watch, especially in the tantrums of the opening section. The orchestra again made a very fine sound.

A mixed bag then, more engaging musically than dramatically, but the RCM's upcoming Arianna in Creta will surely provide a more obvious platform to display the talents of their singing students.

Ravel double bill at Glyndebourne

08/08/2012

What a treat. I'll have to have a think and a look back over my blog, but as a knee jerk reaction, this maybe the best thing I have seen this season. Certainly it is amongst the top five.

Ravel's operas are both perfect gems, refined, glimmering, bijou masterpieces, the comedic foil and light counterpoise to Debussy's glowering masterpiece in the genre. And so Ravelian! Even more than might be said of most of his music, there's a strong feeling that these pieces are self portraits of some sort, reflecting precisely the character, interests, humour, mores and quiddities of their creator. The gentle joy of creation emanates from every bar.

Laurent Pelly is probably the most visually stylish director in opera at the moment, and having seen five of his productions now I have never been anything less than awed at his visual sense. There's always the feeling while watching his productions that however imaginative and quirky his ideas, that he's just got it so right in every way, and it seems difficult to imagine things being done better, or even otherwise. He knows what he likes and what he's good at too, focusing on the French repertoire, usually comedies, often in the margins of the repertoire.

L'heure Espagnol is a farce set in a clock makers shop in Spain, with an unfaithful wife who has her fun while her husband is out on an errand. The set is wonderfully simple - a wall of clocks and clutter and gubbins, with a single staircase and a shop counter, providing a slightly manic backdrop for the silly antics of the plot. I did think that a lot of the comic acting was a bit broad and unsubtly done, and the end was a bit facile, but largely it delivered the laughs required, and it just looked so good.

L’enfant et les sortilèges was even stronger. The old Glyndebourne production was a little literal and mundane, but here Pelly presents us with a nightmarish phantasmagoria of freakish objects come to life, so beautifully and disturbingly characterised and presented that we become the child, and feel his fear as our own. The way each of the short scenes erupts into the visual field and then fades into the blackness of the stage only to be replaced by another gives it the feel of a Disney montage on acid. For those that still want to see it, I don't want to ruin anything, but it was superbly done.

Great singing is really not the point of these operas, and they provide scant opportunities for singers to show off their voices (they really don't need star singers). While none of the voices here were exceptional, all were excellent and did full justice to the score - an excellent ensemble achievement. The real magic was happening in the pit with Kazushi Ono and the London Philharmonic Orchestra, who shimmered and hummed, dazzling us with Ravel's score, every effect well considered and lovingly executed. Unfortunately the nervous titters of the audience, laughing any time that anything happened on stage (as is so often the case with operatic comedies) obscured much of the finer detail of the orchestral tapestry, but it couldn't mar ones enjoyment too much of what was a magical evening.