Past Production Reviews
14Under baroque specialist Christian Curnyn, the orchestra of English National Opera plays Rodelinda’s sublime score to perfection. Designer Jeremy Herbert’s three-room set, comprising the cross section of a house, switches scenes instantly from a panelled office where Juan Sancho’s usurping king Grimoaldo obsessively watches closed circuit television, to the adjoining whitewashed cell where Rebecca Evans’s imprisoned queen Rodelinda mouths curses at the surveillance screen.
Tim Mead is excellent as Bertarido. Lamenting his fate – all but Garibaldo lament their fate at at least one point in the opera – he lets the pure sound of his voice and the music do the work, rather than emoting. Yet he can convey exasperation or desperation both vocally and in his occasionally shambling gait. His Act 2 duet with Rodelinda (Io t’abbraccio) is delicious – and so poignant as they are physically parted by their rooms separating off to the wings.
Such intensity demands a parallel level of emotional power from the pit, and here Stuart Stratford, a familiar name from Opera Holland Park (see Puccini’s La fanciulla or Mascagni’s Iris, for example), provided just that. The English National Opera Orchestra gave their all in a performance of Lucia that also included a great deal of nuance. Stratford understands the voice, and how phrases need to breathe; he also, crucially, gets Donizetti’s orchestration. A sense of flow permeated the whole from the very opening; and to hear the ENO Orchestra on such full-toned form was a joy indeed. They clearly respect Stratford, whose deep musicality added immeasurably to the evening.
Tynan fully identified with the portrayal of Lucia, giving us a profoundly disturbing picture of a woman who was controlled and neutralised by society, fighting back in the only way possible. This meant that in Acts One and Two she was relatively passive, and one of this production's clever strokes is to make Edgardo just as controlling, in his different way, as Enrico. It is clear, this Lucia will be controlled no matter what, so madness is the only way out.
The universality of its central themes of love and loss are easy enough to relate to; the Artistic Director of the ENO, Daniel Kramer, credits La Bohème’s prevailing popularity with the decision to restage its “near-perfect equilibrium between realism and romanticism, comedy and pathos, at whose heart lies the relationship between the forlorn couple of Rodolfo and Mimi”.https://www.ayoungertheatre.com/review-la-boheme-london-coliseum-3/
First seen in 2009, Miller’s Bohème nudges the action forward some 100 years to the ‘années folles’ of the 1920s. Café Momus becomes an edgy guinguette where Fitzgerald and André Breton might have traded writing tips with Rodolfo, and a Josephine Baker-esque Musetta (Nadine Benjamin) holds the stage. It’s a neat sleight-of-hand, nicely framed in Isabella Bywater’s revolving sets — an unobtrusive restoring of operatic order after Benedict Andrews’s teenage rebellion of a crack-den Bohème for ENO in 2015.
Mimi’s sickbed is the floor of her transit van. Rodolfo sits hunched against a wheel outside, the closest he dare get to his dying lover. Musetta makes her showy arrival in a convertible Merc, and an old ice-cream van serves as the Cafe Momus. Trailer-trash stagings are nothing new – many an old camper van has been rolled on to an operatic stage – but here we’re in a proper car park, this unparalleled season’s venue of choice for high art.
A feature of this La bohème is that some characters come up or down from the stage or roam around the parked cars and indeed Rodolfo’s first entrance is when he cycles back from his part-time job delivering takeaways. He hopes to be a playwright but earns additional money writing newspaper reviews. Home isn’t a Parisian garret but a Volkswagen campervan in a car park much the same as the opera was being performed in. It is surrounded by a couple of others and appears to be part of a commune of some sort peopled by those at the fringes of society.
As a result, the evening relied more on the fine Marcello and Musetta from Charles Rice and Louise Alder, who gave the tragedy the ring of truth, both revealed and camouflaged by their explosive relationship. Alder took charge of her Café Momus waltz with imperious ease, considerable humour and some impressive coloratura, while in Act Three Rice’s immensely likeable Marcello in fine acting and singing painfully got to the heart of the misery Mimì and Rodolfo are inflicting on each other – they can’t live with or without each other. Rice naturally took charge of the artist household, backed up William Thomas’s Colline and Benson Wilson’s Schaunard, both strongly characterised and sung.
Or maybe not, for one of the most impressive aspects was Ben Glassberg’s conducting, which revelled in Puccini’s Wagnerisms, memories of Tristan evoked quite magically in the first act, without taking for something they were not. The sounds extracted from the ENO Orchestra were often magnificent: a great dynamic range, from moments of hushed intimacy, to grand, declamatory gesture. But it was Glassberg’s pacing and his reconciliation of vocal and orchestral demands that marked this out most strongly. That was not all his doing, of course. Both orchestra and chorus—what a joy to see and hear a chorus, handled most resourcefully, onstage once again—deserved plaudits in their own right. String sheen and incisiveness, bubbling woodwind and chorus: these and more played their part in weaving an effervescent, yet ever-darkening dramatic tapestry.
