The opera Gods are smiling on me. I had
such a grand time at the Deutsche Oper Zauberflöte
last week … it was deliciously clean and clear and unfussy, so played and
sung for the piece, rather than for some star guest … and, well, I didn’t
expect to get served up a second helping of the same quite so soon. And Lucia di Lammermoor is rather a
different kettle of kippers to Mozart and Shikaneder’s fanciful Singspiel.
My last Lucia
was – wait for it – a dress-rehearsal, in 1968 or 9, at Covent Garden. I forget
who was supposed to be Lucia, but she didn’t deign to do dress-rehearsals so I
saw understudy Maria Pellegrini with the young Giacomo Aragall. Consequently, I
decided it was probably better as an excerpts recording rather than a staged
opera. How wrong can you be. Tonight
proved that. Lucia is a splendid
stage piece.
There are umpteen versions of the piece. I
don’t know which one this was, but it has Alice in it so I guess it’s the
original. With slimmings? If so, they are good slimmings. The libretto is not
too bad: I wish we had had Ashton’s reasons and excuses in scene one, rather
than later, when we’ve decided he’s just a ghastly horrid sibling. But the
story is all there, just in an odd order. But never mind. It’s a 200 year-old
opera; its not supposed to be Tom Stoppard or Larry Gelbart. And the music …
almost as many pops as Trovatore.
Wonderful.
So why did I so enjoy it tonight, when I
really hadn’t before? Because it was produced and played with absolute clarity,
and the opera itself came shining through. Filippo Sanjust’s production dates
from 1980 – see, the good productions last, while the campy ones vanish – and,
though one can find things to be picky about, more than 30 years later, it is
attractive, helpful and never annoying. Yes, 'annoying' is a hazard of the
operatic theatre these days!
I must, in all honesty, admit to the odd
query and giggle. When the front curtain was revealed, I thought I’d come to
the wrong opera: La Dame Blanche! Well,
that would have been nice, too!
And the costumes? Attractive in themselves,
but … oh! all that matching white linen! Obviously the Ashtons and Ravenswoods
and Arturo all have the same underwear-manufacturer and laundress. The
jellyfish around everyone’s ankles dazzled me!
But that’s what happens when you have
choruses, especially one all dressed in the same – admittedly pretty --
frock (it reminded me of Gilbert and Sullivan!). I’m having an anti-chorus
season, actually, they plonk on, they plonk off, and you have to remind
yourself that this is an operatic convention. Paulie came up with a good idea
tonight. Put the orchestra at the back of the stage, and the chorus in the pit.
Think what you’ld save in costuming, and what you’ld gain in audibility for the
singers.
Last quibble. Conductor Ivan Repusic kept
his (bigger than for Zauberflöte)
band hugely and beautifully under control, but several of the singers were a
little drowned.
Right. And now to the joy. Because it was a
joy. The evening. The opera. Largely because we were allowed to hear and see
the opera. Not an evening built around Callas or Sims Reeves or Sutherland. The
opera.
If you haven’t already guessed, I am not a
star-chaser. Sure, I enjoyed seeing Gruberova in Lucrezia Borgia here a couple of years ago, but I went to see Lucrezia Borgia not Gruberova. I like my
opera sung and acted as she is writ. Even those rusty old libretti … have faith
in them! And tonight’s production and players did.
This work was cast wholly from the Deutsche
Oper in-house team, and the casting was … well, bloody good. Actually, some of it was the same as for Zauberflöte …
The piece is really a three-hander. Lucia,
her lover and her mixed-up brother (potentially the most interesting character,
but Donizetti and Cammarano didn’t make him so). In a ‘starry’ production, one of
these three – usually two --- would be made to stand out. Not tonight. The infernal triangle was vibrantly three-sided. As it should be.
Lucia was played and sung by Hulkar
Sabirova, whom we had seen as a hausfrau-ish but vocally brilliant Queen of the Night.
Well, Lucia is a much better role than Astrafiammante, but Miss Sabirova was
amazingly better. Not that she was bad last time! This is Lucia as I would want
to see it ideally played. Her acting of the role was wholly believable: this
really was the young Scots maiden, in love and in terror. No foolish
exaggeration. When she went mad, she went gently mad. No tearing of the hair.
When she loved, you could feel it … and Cammarano doesn’t help with those
stagey false exits! As for the singing,
all I can say is YES. This Lucia doesn’t treat ‘Regnava nel silenzio’ and the
mad scene arias as well-known vocal showpieces. She treats them as part of the
story in progress. And sings them with a
sweet, meaningful accuracy which is totally winning and convincing. I was
wholly won. What can I say but yes, yes, yes.
Edgardo is an awkward part. The ‘story so far’ doesn’t really establish his family and the feud well enough. So
he gets to sing a big duet in scene 2, the top tenor line in the sextet, and then he has to wait till the final
scene when he gets his big aria, and the whole scene and final curtain to
himself. Yosep Kang was a fine Tamino, but he is a much better Edgardo. From
his first entrance, he sang freely and acted convincingly, in his big scene
(‘Fra poco’ and suicide) he was quite splendid.
Ashton is a horrid part. Partly because he
is clumsily written, and partly because the others get all the bon-bons (until
the sextet arrives). Bastiaan Everink looked splendid, sang strongly, and did
all one can do with the part. Well, what else can you do?
The lesser roles were well-taken: Marko
Mimica made the most of his moment as Bide-the-Bent, Katarina Bradic played Alice so nicely you wonder why the French cut her out, and Matthew Newlin was a handsome
tenorious bloody bridegroom. And of course, those two ‘actors’ in the pit:
harpist Virginie Gout-Zschäbitz and flautist Eric Kirchhoff.
Have I sufficiently explained why I liked this evening so much? Well, apart from anything else, now I feel I know Lucia di Lammermoor. Not just the bonbons, the opera. Thank you, everyone.
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