Kasper Holten's new Eugene Onegin at the Royal Opera House

04/02/13

This month operatically inclined eyes in London are focussed on this production of Eugene Onegin, Kasper Holten's first with the company since joining, the clearest indication so far about what the future may hold for the Royal Opera House over the next decade or so - not only will he direct a lot of the major productions, but he will select directors too, so a lot rides on his tastes. I don't think anyone would be so crass as to say that this opera production will provide definitive answers, but interest is nevertheless very high.

Almost immediately we realise that this is Regie theatre, albeit of a mild kind - costumes and sets look largely "period" where "period" means "generically 19th century". The curtain opens onto silence, the mature Tatyana rushing into an empty room, searching for a letter. When she reads it, the music starts - the music is her memories flooding back to her. Onegin enters and we later learn that this prelude occurs in Gremin's palace between Scenes 6 and 7 (i.e. after Onegin has shown up again and sent his letter to Tatyana and before the final confrontation) - the opera then is all the flash backs of these two characters.

Throughout the production, Holten changes how these memories are presented - sometimes it is simply the characters singing their lines with essentially naturalistic acting, sometimes there is a (silent, younger) double also on stage who does the actions as the mature singer merely watches them presumably in a state of recall, sometimes it becomes even more unnaturalistic, and the younger double dances, illustrating the words of the singer, and sometimes the younger and older Tatyana actually interact. It all feels basically logically cogent in that it is never confusing, but I think the brain finds it hard to adjust to different modes of naturalism/unnaturalism in the same play without becoming slightly emotionally disengaged.

The result is interesting rather than moving. It took me a while to work out why. What all this intervention does, well meaning and sensitively done though it is, is that it changes the very finely tuned emotional arcs and tensions of the original story - all this dreaming and meta story telling changes the dynamics of every scene and it becomes hard to actually engage with the characters in a direct way. So for instance, Tatyana sings her letter scene looking at her silent younger self, observing and narrating what she must have been feeling at every moment. So it stops being a searingly intimate moment of personal revelation and an agonising leap of faith, and becomes instead a narrated recollection of a doomed moment of youthful folly. More damagingly, in the passionate climax, the singer Tatyana fantasizes about Onegin accepting her entreaty, and we see her dancer double wrapping herself round the double Onegin - logically we know that this is not really happening, but emotionally what registers is a collapse of the sexual tension as it is consummated in front of us. This is what I mean by changing the emotional arcs - the story loses its drive when these tensions are subverted in front of our eyes, and the result is a lack of emotional investment and then a loss of interest. This is just one example of this occurring in this production, but the same thing happens again and again. As another example, Lensky sings his aria whilst the older Onegin observes and then reaches out and hugs him as an act of wish fulfilment. Although this does nicely suggest the subtle homoerotic elements of the text, it also presents us with the negation of the emotional line that propels this scene forwards - the audience is at this stage always desperate for their reconciliation and this is what creates the tension and pathos of the scene. If we are given this visually, even if intellectually we understand that it is not happening "in real life" in the play, emotionally there is a collapse of tension because our wish is fulfilled.

It's well know that this is one of Holten's favourite operas, but in making these audience member wishes come true on stage, it negates the power of the drama. This is the crux of the production's problems I think.

In Holten's picture, Onegin's main characteristic is that he's young. Gone is the haughtiness and repression of traditional stagings, replaced instead by upturned collars, constant embarrassed faces* and hands in pockets. I'm not sure it worked. Yes he's a young character, but is that his most important or interesting feature? Is it the most expressive one? Is it enough for this complex character to only be that? Is it the best choice for this singer's talents, at this point in his career? It's not altogether obvious why Tatyana falls for him either, other than that when she dreams to the peasant songs in Scene I, she LITERALLY dreams of Onegin himself (it's acted out above the chorus, as a dream within a dream) so that later when she says, "it's him!", she means it literally.

Everyone is colour coded - Onegin wears a shabby blue velvet jacket, Lensky wears a greyish blue suit, Olga a mint green dress. Tatyana wears red (for passion), but it seems a bit incongruent that a shy introvert would choose to dress so boldly - yes it's a metaphor, but surely congruent characterisation has to come before symbolism! In the later two scenes in Gremin's palace she wears an icy white gown, but her petticoats which peek through remain red to suggest the passionate heart still beating beneath cooler, more mature exterior.

Despite my complaints about the effect of the directorial choices, mostly the direction is very detailed and it seems that Holten has thought about it all with great care. But there are clumsy moments. When Onegin and Lensky enter Olga and Lensky hold hands and have a little intimate moment. Twenty seconds later Onegin asks without irony which one Tatyana is. Often characters will walk offstage only to come on again immediately. The peasants stroll into the house unbidden whenever they have a song to sing. The set remains largely the same throughout, with projections layered on top that vary the atmosphere, but it feels rigid and unyielding in crowd scenes. One large scale directional decision is to split the action not into the traditional three acts, but into two parts instead: Scenes 1-4 (100 minutes) and Scenes 5-7 (50 minutes). It feels very long, and Tchaikovsky's music is dramatically constructed on too intimate a scale to support these massive durations.

One directorial choice that did ring true was Holten's decision to make Olga a much darker character than the one that is usually presented. Here she is not that interested in Lensky - their beautiful duet, traditionally the only unbridled happy emotion in the piece, was here reinterpreted as a one sided infatuation - when Olga sings "promised to each other since birth", it's clear that she feels trapped and unhappy. A painful and cruel bit of staging this, that really shocked and hit home. She is also very interested in and excited by Onegin, and so Lensky's complaints don't seem like the oversensitive insecurity that it is usually interpreted as. Lensky is a much less overwrought character as a result - less Werther, more Masetto.

Another shocker - after Gremin's paean to Tatyana's goodness, (and surprising knowledge of and anger at Onegin's transgressions) he bursts in to witness the final scene, and it's far from clear what the outcome will be for Tatyana, who collapses with her books as Onegin wanders listlessly away. Bleak and far from expected. But still not moving!

Musically I thought things mirrored the staging - everything is very competently thought out and considered, but the results are far from passionate. The two are obviously not unlinked as singers have to be inspired by the staging, but there's a reserve in everyone's performance that bespeaks a lack of spiritual engagement. Robin Ticciati's conducting is an intimate and sensitive affair, but feels a bit careful and a little too tentative to support the longer line of the harmony. He also doesn't linger or indulge himself, and while this brings a freshness, it also rushes over some of the scores most touching moments, and I yearned for a bit more romance and schmerz.

As Tatyana, Krassimira Stoyanova has all the notes and is a very good technician. The top is rather covered, but is accurate, and her pleasingly dark low notes are the result of some serious engagement of her chest register, not at all common in lyric sopranos. Being Bulgarian, she speaks perfect Russian and inflects the text nicely, but the voice doesn't have that last degree of specialness that would make this a truly memorable performance. Her acting is good, and she manages to convince as the young Tatyana.

Simon Keenlyside is also very good vocally, and of course technically he's a master, though he also seems somehow not in his element - I didn't feel that he was that engaged with his character, and it showed not just in the physical acting, but also in his vocal acting, which was rather unspecific and bland: not usually words you can apply to Keenlyside.

Elena Maximova's very dark voiced Olga will split opinion I think - the chest tones are formidable, but the sound is not for me very attractive overall. Pavol Breslik sings Lensky with excellent technique, but there's no excitement in the voice, partly because the top is too covered and the sound rather small. Kathleen Wilkinson's Filipyevna and Diana Montague's Larina are both acceptably sung and unremarkably acted. Everyone else falls into the same category (though I did like Jihoon Kim's rich voiced Zaretsky). In both the final dress and this the first night, the chorus frequently fell out of time with the orchestra, and generally seem a bit uncomfortable - it could be the language or it could be Ticciati's fast speeds.

On the one hand I want to say that it's not that bad, and is a coherent, thoughtful piece of Regie that is well sung and played. But on the other hand, surely an Onegin that doesn't move needs to be classified as a disaster, and we need to expect more of voices than mere accuracy. Some will no doubt find much to admire here, and it is thought provoking, but for me the concept, while clever, negates the emotion of the piece and without that, it ends up being a rather uninvolving night at the theatre.



*a friend humorously (and accurately) compared him to Tim from The Office.

Le Nozze di Figaro at Glyndebourne

08/07/2012

Quite a while ago now, but better late than never? This production (directed by Michael Grandage) was a frustrating as it seemed to have such potential as a concept, but had so many ideas that no one followed through with, and aside from the updating it didn't feel like there was enough risk taking or sense of purpose. At least it wasn't updated to the 50's.

photo by Alastair Muir

Putting Figaro in the Alhambra is cool - despite its setting being clearly set out in Da Ponte's libretto, Spanish references in productions of this opera are usually few and far between, so it's nice to bring out this element for a change. But here it changed nothing about the presentation of the action or the drama, and in the end this was as traditional a production as I have ever seen. Why bother making the Islamic reference if you're not going to follow up on it?* Just to look pretty?

Even more pointless was setting it in the early 70's - this creates problems because the whole plot centres around avoidance of the Almavida's Feudal right (and no attempt was made to address this anachronism), but added nothing in terms of casting the drama in a new light. My instant thought was that if they'd made it a commune (all the rage at that time), with Almaviva as the head honcho, he may well have had a "right" to the women in the commune, and he'd still be a figure of (abusive) power. Also, the Count cannot be a truly threatening character due only to his status in the 70's because there were of course by that time severe limitations on his power and what he could do to his servants. For there to be a real sense of dread he'd simply have to be a physically or psychologically threatening man (which he wasn't at all here) but then this would render certain character's actions inexplicable without some further serious character regie. I don't like when things are just glossed over. I've seen reviewers suggest that this weakening of the Count is a strength of the production (e.g. Rupert Christiansen of all people!) - it's not, it undermines the drama.

photo by Alastair Muir

I missed too the painful edge of this opera, the bitter tang of every trick which rebounds and causes almost as much suffering on the trick player as the victim. This idea is taken up by Da Ponte less subtly in Cosi Fan Tutte, and in fact becomes the central thrust of the drama, but in Figaro it's just one of a number of important interlocking elements. Itis of course also so beautifully encapsulated in Mozart's music that it's impossible to ignore; when it is, as here, the whole things falls flat and ends up being rather bland - nothing more than non threatening buffoonery, japes and mild humour. Of course there were roars of laughter every time people danced in a 70s style to Mozart's music. People are so very easily pleased.

As to Christopher Oram's sets - I have to say that though very detailed, I thought lots of the scenery was rather crudely rendered and far less beautiful than actual examples of Islamic architecture and ceramics of this period. One big problem was that both the window and the main door of the the Countess' bedroom were deeply recessed into the right hand wall and so key points of the action in Act 2 (Cherubino's jump, and the locking of the doors) were invisible to half the audience. So unecessary.

The cast were very young, each debuing their role as far as I can tell, and though youth is entirely appropriate in this piece, their inexperience showed. Michael Grandag 's direction, which is detailed but quite unspecific, rendered characters generic and largely uninteresting, with emotional content relegated to the background, and larger dramatic arches left undernourished. But more experienced singers can often transcend an indifferent production and at least effect something special in their own parts. Overall I found it hard to feel too much for any of the characters.

photo by Alastair Muir

Sally Matthew's Countess was vocally by some distance the most impressive cast member, but due to the production seemed short of genuine pathos, and so failed to move the heart. The costumes saw to it that she couldn't be elegant or graceful, but I'm not sure the voice is quite right either for capturing this character's poise, warmth or softness. A few months ago I wrote about her voice as it sounded close up in the Wigmore Hall, and my impression wasn't all that different here - it's superbly produced, extremely even, technically very secure, but also extremely covered which gives it a shiny, but rather dark and steely unfeminine edge. The top gleams, but it's laser like rather than crystalline. I love her Fiordiligi here and here and I think it's probably a much more interesting role for her.

Lydia Teuscher's Susanna was quite nice, but in voice types this common one can afford to be very picky, and she offerend nothing truly distinctive. I thought she was occasionally quite hoarse in the upper register too. Vito Priante's Figaro was also decently sung but overall slightly bland. Audun Iversen's Count Almaviva was more interesting vocally, but had too many comedy double takes (which the crowd ate up) to be credible. Isabel Leonard made a decent Cherubino, nicely sung, but again failed to be very memorable. All the supporting roles were adequately taken (except for Ann Murray's Marcellina who was far more than adequate - such a natural presence on stage, and still far more than acceptable vocally).

Robin Ticciati was in the pit and all eyes are surely on him at the moment since he was announced last season as Glyndebourne's next music director, succeeding Jurowski in 2014 (with a rumoured Rosenkavalier, another Glyndebourne classic). I was absolutely enthralled by his Don Giovanni last season with the OAE which was full blooded, ultra detailed and thrillingly intense. His Figaro was also very good, sensittively played and carefully thought out, but it felt a bit too much like the production: all a bit subdued and soft, lacking piquancy and bite. Still he's profoundly musical and has excellent rapor with his musicians who manage to play superbly apparently in spite of his almost obstinate lack of clear beat. He's so young too - I have no fears whatsoever about his take over (though at the moment Jurowski seems quite determined to make us regret that he's going with superlative performances every time.)

Perhaps surprisingly, this Figaro is a co production with the Met, a much larger stage, so presumably the sets will all have to be rebuilt for then. Hopefully they'll hire some experts in Islamic art, improve the look of it, and iron out some of the set's problems. Although it is an updating that will no doubt receieve some grumbles when it crosses the pond, there is nothing here at all to challenge the arch conservative Met audience intellectually, morally or emotionally.

*In fact, it gave me such a good idea for a production but I don't want to write it here for fear that the idea will be stolen!

Robin Ticciati and the LSO play Strauss, Mahler and Brahms (with Christopher Maltman)

Barbican
15/03/2012

A disappointing concert this as in theory I very much like all artists involved.

I wrote about it for Bachtrack. I asked other people sitting around me to check that it wasn't just me feeling the fundamental disconnect between orchestra and conductor.

Strauss's Tod und Verklärung is the work of a young man seeking to impress with his profundity and modernity after his early success with the wildly exuberant Don Juan. It is often said that the "death" part is more convincing than the "transfiguration" part, and this is largely true - while the former comes off beautifully, the latter is far too prosaic musically for the exalted subject matter. It's not really a question of age (Strauss was just 25 when he composed it), but a matter of compositional strengths, proclivities and weaknesses revealing themselves early - Strauss' musical genius is best expressed by sentimentality, extremity, vulgarity, stylisation: he is simply not capable of Wagnerian profundity, weight and depth. Robin Ticciati went a long way towards papering over these cracks, and slowly the huge symphonic arc of the tone poem was revealed with a glistening sweep. But there were balance issues - the brass and percussion generally far too loud, the little woodwind fragments in the beginning not cutting through the gloriously lush string textures. Something too wasn't connecting musically - there was a curious lack of passion or commitment even although all concerned were making all the right motions.

Well, can't win em all...

Glyndebourne II: Don Giovanni

Glyndebourne Festival
03/06/2011

Two consecutive nights at Glyndebourne - such a treat. Again it was confirmed to me that in every regard, this is the best opera house in the UK.

This Film Noir version of Don Giovanni mostly works very well, and is a stylish, atmospheric and interesting updating which, like the ROH's recent updating of The Tzar's bride, never fights the score or libretto, and even offers a few interesting insights. The set by Paul Brown is a constantly revolving and unfolding cube, part house, part ruin and provides a simple and effectively moody backdrop to the piece. Revival director Lloyd Wood also doesn't mess too much with the piece and lets the thing speak for itself. It's not a complicated production but it works. And works well. (Or is it more complicated? Is the set a reflection of Don Giovanni's mind/soul - confident, sleek and fortress like at the outset, and fractured and ruined by the end? Hmm...) What's also quite nice is that the set requires the characters to be near the front of the stage for much of the time which means they're easier to hear and their interactions are clearer - this had been a fault of the first act of the Meistersinger production the previous night.


The singing was absolutely fantastic throughout. Most impressive was Albina Shagimuratova as the Metastasian heroin, Donna Anna. This is a dramatic voice in intensity and volume, but the colour is lyric - warm, focused with a beautiful vibrato and effortless flexibility. Really amazing. Unfortunately her acting is not up to much and she failed to portray a convincing character on stage. But, she's that rarest of things - the dramatic coloratura and I can't wait to see her as Queen of the Night at the ROH next season.

Matthew Rose as Leporello was also on very fine form vocally, but similarly failed to construct a believable character in Leporello. This role is always going to get laughs, but never once did I believe his antics. The same problem was also there last summer in The Rake's Progress - his vocally nuanced Nick Shadow never quite had enough character to be menacing. Hopefully he'll grow into this aspect of opera because he certainly has the vocal talent to go very far.

The other two girls were sung by Miah Persson (as Donna Elvira) and Marita Solberg (as Zerlina). Miah Persson has a beautiful voice and a charming stage presence and looking like a film-noir cliché (she has the looks too), made a brilliantly tormented Donna Elvira. It wasn't quite as overplayed and comedic as usual and was an interesting take on the role. Occasionally one wished for a little more volume to make her anger the more convincing but I liked her throughout. Marita Solberg I had never heard before; she has a richer, fuller tone than one is perhaps used to in the role of Zerlina (her other roles tend to be full lyric rep as far as I can see), but it worked wonderfully here - her two arias, the glowing jewels of this opera, were floatingly gorgeous affairs. I actually can't imagine them being sung more beautifully. Strange then that her recitative was oddly muddy and rather dull, though her acting of this coquette role (she was dressed like Marilyn Monroe) was cute and characterful.

Lucas Meachem took on the role of Don Giovanni, but having seen Gerald Finley as Sachs the night before and knowing that he sung the role last summer when this production was premiered, I occasionally yearned to hear him sing it instead. Not at all fair though as Lucas Meachem sung the part brilliantly, displaying power, menace and beauty, all essential for a good Don. He's a decent actor too, serious and realistic, but just maybe a tad old and a tad portly to be convincing as a serial seducer. I guess if the Rake has slept with as many women as are mentioned in the catalogue song, he's going to have seen a few summers! The other men were also good, especially In-Sung Sim as the Commendatore, a colossal bass voice, and here resurrected at the end as a zombie, putrescent, bloodied and with glistening viscera on show.

Finally the The Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment. I have never heard Mozart's magnificent score performed better than it was this night - just truly breathtaking playing in every parameter. Simon Rattle hits the nail on the head when he says "period intruments have more colour, flavour, shape and less weight than modern ones. They are more tangy, more piccante. We can play full out with greatest passion, and still sound like Mozart". This was exactly the impression I had - such colour, incisiveness, white hot intensity and extraordinary beauty I have never before heard in a performance of music of the classical era, but at the same time never once did it go outside the bounds of what might be considered good taste. This was in no small part due to the amazing young conductor Robin Ticciati who is surely one of the most exciting young talents in Britain at the moment. It's a bizarre conducting technique, with an ill defined beat, and odd bouncing stance, but clearly something works and very well too, because he lead a similarly orchestrally magnificent performance of Hansel and Gretel last summer at the festival (again, one of the most incredible evening of music I've had the pleasure of attending). Unspeakably brilliant.