Robert Hayward as The Dutchman in Opera North’s The Flying Dutchman. Picture: James Glossop
LIKE a red rag to a bull, Wagner’s nautical traveller has provoked many concepts from opera directors. It was not an urge that Annabel Arden was able to resist, closely partnered by her designer Joanna Parker, in this new production.
Although sung in German, Act 1 opens in The Home Office, the government department responsible for processing those seeking asylum. Ocean views on a video during the overture have already conjured thoughts of desperate voyagers in tiny dinghies trying to cross the English Channel, so when we see a crowd of identically-suited bureaucrats, red-ribboned identity tags around their necks, buzzing busily against a backdrop of rapid-fire digital gobbledygook, it is all of a piece.
Myth and legend appear to have gone out of the window. Where is Daland’s boat, or the Dutchman’s for that matter? They never appear. Daland is the smug minister weathering the storms thrown into the path of the ship of state.
Layla Claire’s Senta, centre, with the ladies of the Chorus of Opera North in The Flying Dutchman. Picture: James Glossop
It is true that when the Dutchman’s vessel should be putting into port, a crane-load of nautical gear is lowered onto the central table, as if it were the dockside. Above this are two thin metal curtains, cut on an angle, which could well be interpreted as sails.
In truth, there has been some inkling of this twin-layered approach: before the overture, and at the start of the other two acts, the recorded voices of actual refugees speak in broken English of the trials they have endured on their way to this country.
These two strands, myth and modernity, are uneasy bedfellows throughout the evening. Alarm bells always ring when it takes several well-reasoned essays and interviews in a 50-page programme-book (not read by many of the punters, certainly not in advance) to explain and justify any departure from what the composer envisaged.
Robert Hayward as the Dutchman and Layla Claire as Senta in The Flying Dutchman. Picture: James Glossop
It is entirely possible that first-timers at Holländer find it all convincing or are simply not bothered; more experienced listeners will be at the very least bewildered. But that’s all part of the fun.
There are multiple compensations in the music. Music director Garry Walker seems to have stepped straight into the Wagnerian mantle he inherited from Richard Farnes. His strings are immediately on fire – one rapid run is positively spine-tingling – and there is steely determination in the brass calls.
But he also allows the score to breathe, which suits his principals admirably. Robert Hayward’s Dutchman cuts an androgynous figure on first appearance, long straggly hair, a necklace and seemingly a dress under his long cloak – until he opens his mouth and the full world-weariness flows such as no other baritone can match. His career in Leeds alone stretches back well over 30 years. He is still in imperious voice at the finish.
Layla Claire’s Senta and Edgaras Montvidas’s Erik/Steersman in The Flying Dutchman. Picture: James Glossop
Clive Bayley, another familiar face in these parts, revels in taking off his ministerial role as Daland, injecting humour with subtle inflexions. Edgaras Montvidas doubles excellently as Erik and the Steersman, finding a Lied-style Sehnsucht in Erik’s Act 2 aria but a biting vitriol at Senta’s rejection.
Layla Claire was unable to sing on this opening night but acted an emotionally immature Senta prostrated by her infatuation with immense conviction. Mari Wyn Williams sang the role from the side with considerable charm, reserving extra heft for the dénouement. Molly Barker, stepping up from the chorus, makes her mark as Mary.
The final showdown between the two crews takes place at a civil-service shindig with the Dutchman behind the bar at first, before he climbs onto it for his peroration. But the chorus is so thrilling there is no need to reason why.
Review by Martin Dreyer, 1/2/2025
Further performances in Leeds until February 21, then on tour until March 28, full details at www.operanorth.co.uk. Leeds box office: 0113 243 0808 or leedsheritagetheatres.com.
The Chorus in Opera North’s The Flying Dutchman at Leeds Grand Theatre. Picture: James Glossop
Max Westwell and Holly Saw performing the Divorce Ballet in Opera North’s Love Life. Picture: James Glossop
KURT Weill interrupted Alan Jay Lerner’s partnership with Frederick Loewe in 1948 when he needed book and lyrics for Love Life, which turned out to be his penultimate completed work for the musical theatre.
It was a shrewd move. Their joint decision to create a ‘vaudeville’ on the topic of married life was soundly rooted in their own experience, Weill having divorced and remarried Lotte Lenya, with Lerner at that time enjoying his second marriage (with six more to come).
With Love Life you get two for the price of one. On the one hand,there is a series of sketches, at roughly 30-year intervals from 1791 to 1948, charting the vagaries of a typical American marriage, with a couple and their two children weathering a changing society’s various pressures.
Interwoven with these are essentially music hall acts, which have varying degrees of relevance to the main narrative. This division only breaks down in the finale. Here Sam and Susan the central couple, having realised that their marriage is on the rocks, are lured into an Illusion Minstrel Show where they are encouraged to decide that they are no better apart than together. We leave them at opposite ends of a high wire, about to re-embark on the balancing act of marriage.
Quirijn de Lang’s Sam Cooper in Opera North’s Love Life. Picture: James Glossop
Matthew Eberhardt’s avowed mission as director was to make the distinction between these two strands abundantly clear. He succeeded, with considerable help from Zahra Mansouri’s designs. She kept the ageless family foursome in black – they were immune from changing fashions – while vivid colour was reserved for the variety acts.
In what was technically a semi-staged production, with the orchestra on a raised platform upstage, there were no fixed props, only movable furniture, with one intriguing exception. Overhead was an assemblage of geometrical trusses, the bare bones of lighting rigs, which grew more elaborate as the industrial and technological ages progressed, representing added complications for the couple while distilling the growing New York skyline.
What is absolutely stunning about this piece is Weill’s chameleon ability to adapt to the multiplicity of styles prevalent in America and elsewhere: jazz, blues, soft shoe shuffle, big band, barbershop, madrigal, not to mention standard operetta and operatic procedures.
In all of these James Holmes’s sense of style and command of the orchestra were vital to the success of the whole enterprise. Rhythms were everywhere crisp and alive, the players’ obvious enthusiasm inspiring the singers at every turn.
Quirijn de Lang and Stephanie Corley were well contrasted as the central couple, he more and more focused on bringing home the bacon and hustling for business, while she agonised over fitting her domestic role into the early throes of women’s lib.
His forthright baritone was especially witty in I’m Your Man, attempting to be all things to all men. Her soprano was at its most tender in Is It Him Or Is It Me?’, which summarised the difficulties in their relationship after they had decided on divorce. Louie Stow and Tilly Baker were their impeccable children.
Joshua da Costa, left, Andrew Randall, Masimba Ushe and Will Hopkins as the Quartet in Opera North’s Love Life. Picture: James Glossop
A broad spread of roles once again revealed the versatility of the Opera North chorus, not least as a male octet in Progress and as a taut mixed-voice madrigal group in Ho, Billy O!. Among the invitees, Themba Mvula was a spirited magician at the start and a wily MC in the closing minstrel show.
Justin Hopkins made a warmly avuncular Hobo, and there was sparkling bonhomie from the male quartet in a wry Economics and in Susan’s Dream. The Three Tots earn a mention for the unfettered joy of their song-and-dance routine.
Indeed, the choreographer Will Tuckett and his assistant Daisy West played an outstanding role, given that the cast included only two professional dancers. They were Holly Saw and Max Westwell, who delivered a poignant Divorce Ballet.
Finally, a word for Christine Jane Chibnall, returning as dramaturg here after retiring in the autumn after more than 40 years with the company, mainly as director of planning. Her vision and determination have not often received the appreciation they deserve.
The only disappointment of this show was that it received only two performances. It will surely be revived and soon. No-one should miss it.
Review by Martin Dreyer
Themba Mvula as the Magician/Con Man/Interlocutor in Opera North’s Love Life. Picture: James Glossop
Henry Waddington as Nick Bottom and Daisy Brown at Tytania with the children of A Midsummer Night’s Dream cast as Fairies. Picture: Richard H Smith
THIS is the second revival of Martin Duncan’s 2008 production. It was seen again five years later and now, 16 years on from its genesis, it reappears under the supervision of Matthew Eberhardt, who is building an impressive portfolio as an assistant director in Leeds. So it can be said to have stood the test of time.
The magic behind its success is not hard to find. Large-cast productions have become a speciality at Leeds, where chorus-members regularly step up into smaller roles. But Duncan has also looked back at 1960, when A Midsummer Night’s Dream was premiered, and built on a legitimate modernity behind it.
It is not merely night music, but dream music, drug-induced at that. Ashley Martin-Davis’s pseudo- psychedelic costumes for the lovers reveal them to be flower children. The child-fairies are identically clothed in white, with black wings and blonde, fringed wigs, the product of a dream-world, flitting around like bees seeking pollen. Oberon and Tytania gleam in shiny metal discs, like sci-fi chain mail.
Camilla Harris’s Helena and James Newby’s Demetrius. Picture: Richard H Smith
Reinforcing the otherworldly theme are the tall ‘trees’ of translucent Perspex surmounted by oval ‘clouds’, all brought to life by Bruno Poet’s lighting. Not quite your traditional dream, in other words.
Equally transparent is Garry Walker’s exceptionally delicate treatment of the score. He conjures from his players an intimacy that exactly complements the goings-on above, sometimes to an almost erotic degree. Naturally this dissipates into something more earthy when the artisans are at play.
These two worlds, alongside the high voices of the fairies’ realm, offer clear differentiation between the drama’s three groups, just as Britten intended, with Daniel Abelson’s lively Puck as go-between, his trumpet-and-drum motif sectionalising the score. Such clarity is magical indeed. James Laing’s commanding Oberon, a stalwart from 2008, is well matched by Daisy Brown’s yearning Tytania.
The outstanding performance of the evening comes from Henry Waddington as a blustering Bottom, the other veteran holdover from the production’s start; he is positively Falstaffian in his donkeydisguise.
Daniel Abelson as Puck in Opera North’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Picture: Richard H Smith
Colin Judson, the original Flute, reappears as Snout here, alongside Dean Robinson as Quince, Nicholas Watts as Flute, Frazer Scott’s Snug and Nicholas Butterfield’s Starveling, an excellent team.
There is also exceptional teamwork – and beautiful singing – from the dozen children as fairies, who are spearheaded by Kitty Moore, Dougie Sadgrove, Lucy Eatock and Jessie Thomas as Peaseblossom, Moth, Mustardseed and Cobweb respectively.
Nor is there is any shortage of passion from the four lovers. They are distinct personalities, Camilla Harris a flighty Helena as opposed to Sian Griffiths’s determined Hermia, with Peter Kirk’s Lysander and James Newby’s Demetrius more like rutting stags when they clash. All bar Griffiths are making their company debuts. The aristocrats, Theseus and Hippolyta, are given due gravitas by Andri Björn Róbertsson and Molly Barker.
The wit and wisdom we had first enjoyed in 2008 is resuscitated in spades.
Review by Martin Dreyer
Nicholas Butterfield as Robin Starveling, Frazer Scott as Snug, Nicholas Watts as Francis Flute, Henry Waddington as Nick Bottom, Colin Judson as Tom Snout and Dean Robinson as Peter Quince in Opera North’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Picture: Richard H Smith
Dominic Sedgwick as Sir Ruthven Murgatroyd (seated) with Chorus of Opera North members as the ghosts of Ruddigore in Ruddigore. Picture: Richard H Smith
ANYONE sniffing at the idea of a professional company devoting time to Gilbert & Sullivan will experience a tasty riposte in this Jo Davies production, revived here by James Hurley.
Unveiled nearly 15 years ago, it was originally (1887) billed as “entirely original supernatural opera”. That seems to have intimidated Victorian audiences more than modern ones and Davies/Hurley really go to town in this escapist revival, unabashed at any idea that Ruddigore is somehow outside the mainstream.
The show ticks two other boxes as well. It fits neatly into the autumnal charm offensive under the company’s new regime: witness the pre-curtain pep-talks at all three productions.
Xavier Hetherington as Richard Dauntless with John Savournin as Sir Despard Murgatroyd. Picture: Richard H Smith
In these straitened times – when are they not so? – it also makes sense to schedule a show dependent on teamwork. With no major lead roles, many could be taken by members of the company’s versatile chorus. So we have Amy Freston returning as Rose Maybud, just as naïve and gullible as before but vocally more flexible too.
Similarly, Claire Pascoe steps into the redoubtable shoes of Anne-Marie Owens as Dame Hannah and makes them her own, not least when greeting her old flame Sir Roderic as “Roddy Doddy”. He is the other returnee – a regular here, although not a chorus member – Steven Page, even more proudly military and stentorian than before.
Updating the action from the 18th century to the 1920s means that the cloaks swirled and the moustaches sprouted, in true silent cinema fashion, which plays right into the hands of John Savournin’s dastardly Sir Despard. Never one to downplay comic opportunities, Savournin is in his element – and making every word count in a firm baritone.
Helen Évora as Mad Margaret with John Savournin as Sir Despard Murgatroyd. Picture: Richard H Smith
This means even more when he meets his match in Helen Évora’s delightfully capricious Mad Margaret, reacting compliantly to his ‘Basingstoke’ commands; they play off each other superbly.
They also combine winningly with Dominic Sedgwick’s Robin – now Sir Ruthven – in Act 2’s unique patter song. This marks the point at which Sedgwick returns to the comfort zone he inhabited as a genial Robin, a transition as tricky as any in the Savoy operas.
Xavier Hetherington brings a bright tenor and boundless gusto to the role of Dick Dauntless, while Henry Waddington’s Old Adam is both gruff and bumbling, notably as ‘valet de chambre’. Gillene Butterfield adds a neat cameo as Zorah.
Henry Waddington as Old Adam Goodheart and Dominic Sedgwick as Sir Ruthven Murgatroyd. Picture: Richard H Smith
Anthony Kraus contributes a vigour and determination that not only inspires his orchestra but enlivens the singers into the bargain. He shows an unerring instinct for colour, mining Sullivan’s orchestration at every turn and making When The Night Wind Howls a highlight.
Special mention must also go to Kay Shepherd’s choreography and the way it is so crisply delivered, despite the addition of only three professional dancers. Dance has had a thin time of it in opera recently and this is a welcome return of an essential ingredient in the G & S recipe.
The chorus revels in its opportunities, the ladies as professional bridesmaids, the men as Murgatroyds from the past. Richard Hudson’s set for the castle picture gallery, allied to Anna Watson’s darkly evocative lighting, makes Act 2 memorable – proving Sullivan’s ability not merely to parody, but to create, real opera.
Review by Martin Dreyer
Dominic Sedgwick as Robin Oakapple and Amy Freston as Rose Maybud in Opera North’s Ruddigore.Picture: Richard H Smith
Opera North in James Brining’s revival of The Magic Flute. Picture: Tristram Kenton
FOR the start of her first full year as general director, Laura Canning is presiding over an autumn of three revivals, of which this production by James Brining is the first.
Doubtless she had no say in the schedule, but it still looks cautious, especially when viewed in the wake of, for example, Buxton Festival’s five new productions this summer.
Brining operates as artistic director of Leeds Playhouse, just a short walk away from the Grand Theatre, and this had been his first full operatic production. It still shows signs of over-calculation.
Before the curtain we are treated to a welcome designed to embrace newcomers. Old-stagers might have regarded it as patronising but, seen alongside a bare-bones outline in the programme of what constitutes opera in the first place, it is arguably a useful introduction to an artform that too many have found intimidating: an attempt to cast the audience net more widely, in other words.
This process must be treated gingerly, however, if the company’s core audience is not to be deterred. The overture is intended as an introduction, presenting themes and building anticipation.
All of that is dissipated when it is overlaid with a dumb show, based on Bergman’s cinematic view of the whole work being a child’s dream/nightmare, that has little or nothing to do with Mozart. So, overture and dumb show are at odds with one another: in our screen-obsessed age, the eyes take over and the overture goes for naught.
As it was, Christoph Koncz, making his Leeds debut, opened the overture very slowly and followed with an extremely rapid allegro, which the orchestra – now under its new leader Katie Stillman – handled with panache. Thereafter Koncz impresses with the transparency of the textures he conjures.
Egor Zhuravskii has graduated from Fenton in Falstaff to Tamino here, and does so smoothly enough. Narrow at the start, his tone opens out over time but remains a little dry, albeit stylish. There is not much genuine feeling between him and Claire Lees’s admirable Pamina, but she entrances with every appearance and sounds ready for greater things.
Leaning heavily on his Welsh lilt, Emyr Wyn Jones makes an affable dunderhead of Papageno, almost taking the pantomime route, while Anna Dennis makes an imposing Queen of Night, edgy, determined and accurate.
Msimelelo Mbali, as Sarastro, lacks the gravitas shown by Andri Björn Robertsson’s Speaker, but his bass grows in authority in Act 2. Colin Judson offers an apt irritant as Monostatos, in place of the repellent figure we had last time.
Pasquale Orchard makes a charming Papagena, although she is introduced to Papageno early and deprived of her ‘old lady’ disguise. Many of the lesser roles are ably assumed by members of the chorus, proving its versatility.
Colin Richmond’s flexible set proves its worth once again, as does Douglas O’Connell’s high-impact video effects.
Brining envisaged Blakean poles of innocence and experience. He might instead have allowed Mozart and Schikaneder – in Jeremy Sams’s colloquial translation – to speak for themselves. The plot is complicated enough as it is.
Review by Martin Dreyer
Performances: Leeds Grand Theatre, February 12, 13, 15 and 22 2025, 7pm. Box office: 0113 243 0808 or leedsheritagetheatres.com. Hull New Theatre, March 27 and 29 2025, 7pm. Box office: hulltheatres.co.uk.
Terms Of Agreement: Marcus Jarrell Willis’s first work for Phoenix Dance Theatre
PHOENIX Dance Theatre will perform artistic director Marcus Jarrell Willis’s first work for the Leeds company as part of the Belonging: Loss. Legacy. Love triple bill at York Theatre Royal tonight and tomorrow.
Terms Of Agreement is the Texas-born choreographer’s third work of his Terms & Conditions series. Featuring original written compositions by Tomos O’Sullivan and music by popular artist, this one focuses on the more ethereal, spiritual and kismet perspectives to unravel the eternal question: what is true love? “Further to understanding this, once you have negotiated the terms, will you accept the agreement?” he asks.
“Building upon the resounding success of Phoenix Dance Theatre’s last tour, which fittingly reflected on the company’s remarkable 40th anniversary, Phoenix is directing its focus forwards. Marking this latest chapter for the company we are embarking on a tour of new choreographic works, including two world premieres,” says Marcus, who took up his post last October.
“I am thrilled to be contributing my own creation to this versatile programme, and it has been a privilege for me working with our exceptionally gifted dancers to craft my first work for Phoenix.”
Phoenix Dance Theatre performing Dane Hurst’s Requiem. Picture: Drew Forsyth
Terms Of Agreement forms part of a “powerfully visceral and thought-provoking triple bill exploring the nuances of human experience by three exciting international dance makers”: world premieres by Miguel Altunaga and Marcus Jarrell Willis, complemented by the Leeds company’s first touring performances of former artistic director Dane Hurst’s Requiem (Excerpts).
South African choreographer Hurst’s Requiem is a “powerful reimagining of Mozart’s awe-inspiring choral masterpiece in an emotional response to the grief experienced by so many around the world during the pandemic”.
The work was premiered at Leeds Grand Theatre last year as part of Leeds 2023: Year of Culture in a co-production with Opera North and South African partners Jazzart Dance Theatre and Cape Town Opera.
In his first stage commission for Phoenix, Afro-Cuban choreographer Miguel Altunaga premieres his daring new work, Cloudburst, set to a new score by composer David Preston.
World premiere:Phoenix Dance Theatre in Miguel Altunaga’s Cloudburst
Altunaga first collaborated with Phoenix in 2022 to create the dance film EBÓ as part of the company’s inaugural digital programme. Now, in a continuation of that work, Cloudburst explores mankind’s relationship to tribe and community, mythology and spirituality, ritual and surrealism, and how choices made by our ancestors shape our culture as well as our very being.
“I believe that this mixed bill will speak to every audience member at each theatre we visit,” says Marcus. “The emotions we feel during the different stages of our life and the questions we ask about our past, present, and future shape who we are and inform our sense of belonging.
“The sentiments expressed through these three works will resonate differently with each individual present in the audience, allowing space for both an impactful and memorable experience.”
York Theatre Royal is the final venue of Phoenix’s first British tour since 2022. Tickets for performances at 7.30pm tonight and 2.30pm and 7.30pm tomorrow are on sale at 01904 623568 or yorktheatreroyal.co.uk.
Alexandra Lowe as Fiordiligi, left, Gillene Butterfield as Despina and Heather Lowe as Dorabella in Opera North’s Cosi fan Tutte. Picture: James Glossop
TIM Albery was back to mastermind his 2004 production, his second Così here, and it retained a good deal of its earlier impact.
Tobias Hoheisel’s camera obscura focused attention nicely, beckoning us to gaze at the frailty of human emotions under the microscope. His setting was otherwise traditional and encouraged teamwork without gimmickry, but always with an eye towards what Germaine Greer was pleased to call comitragedy.
Clemens Schuldt, a new conductor here, encouraged the pathos in the score. Oddly enough, this had a connection to the approach of Quirijn de Lang’s Don Alfonso, beautifully enunciated but always with a wistfulness that foresaw the disappointments. He was not so much a puppeteer as a wise head on old shoulders offering advice, not revelling in winning his wager.
The initial pairings to some extent belied the characters we saw. While Alexandra Lowe’s Fiordiligi was the more circumspect of the sisters, her Guglielmo, Henry Neill, always had a twinkle in his eye, which could imply that he was untrustworthy.
Heather Lowe (no relation) made an adventurous Dorabella, opposite a Ferrando in Anthony Gregory who was a distinctly cool fish. In other words, the couples seemed much better suited when they changed over. What in fact happened was that sharedcircumstances smoothed out the emotions of all four so that any coupling was likely to work – but in this production that was properly left unresolved.
At the final curtain, we could only weep that they had all made such a mess of things, a perfectly legitimate tactic on Albery’s part and one that gave the evening greater depth.
Stir into the mix a Despina in Gillene Butterfield who affected to be on more or less the same social level as her employers: witty enough as doctor or lawyer, she was otherwise too caught up in the fray.
The singing was never less than high quality. Alexandra Lowe’s soprano reflected her emotions excellently, while Heather Lowe’s forthright Dorabella made ‘Il cor vi dono’ the vocal highlight of the show. Neill’s flexible baritone balanced his movements superbly: he is a natural creature of the stage. Gregory’s tenor, dry at first, warmed as the evening progressed, in keeping with his character.
Schuldt was attentive to his orchestra and maintained a good balance with the stage, always favouring his woodwinds. Albery had done it again, teamwork his first concern.
Robert Hayward as Alfio in Opera North’s Cavalleria Rusticana: “Some of the finest singing he has ever delivered on this stage”. Picture: Tristram Kenton
WITH his distraught features spread across both covers of the programme in close-up, there was no doubting who was to be the anti-hero of this double bill.
Robert Hayward has made a speciality of portraying twisted psychotics – his Scarpia comes straight to mind – so the pistol-packing combination of Alfio in Mascagni’s melodrama with the title role in Rakhmaninov’s graduation exercise Aleko was right up his street.
In both, jealousy prompts his character to shoot dead the tenor, in this case the luckless Andrés Presno. Hayward rose to the occasion with some of the finest singing he has ever delivered on this stage.
Karolina Sofulak had returned to revive her 2017 production of Cavalleria Rusticana while tackling the company’s first look at Aleko. Rakhmaninov completed the latter in 1892, a mere two years after the Mascagni had caused a sensation.
Sofulak was understandably at pains to point out the parallels between the two. In close association with her designers, Charles Edwards (sets and lighting) and Gabrielle Dalton (costumes), she put Cavalleria Rusticana first, the reverse of the usual order with these two pieces.
Supplanting the sunshine and lemon blossom of Sicily with the darker but equally restrictive society of Communist Poland in the 1970s, she then – inspired by Pushkin’s poem The Gypsies on which the libretto is based – conceived Aleko as taking place in a 1990s post-hippie commune, such as Freetown Christiania in Copenhagen.
Helen Évora as Lola and Andrés Presno as Turiddu in Opera North’s Cavalleria Rusticana. Picture: Tristram Kenton
Here ‘Al’, who has by now changed the latter half of his name, is trying to liberate himself from the misdemeanours of his youth as Alfio. But his fate lies within his own dark heart, and he is unable to shake it off. It was an ingenious idea. It also put into much better perspective her staging of the Mascagni, which had not made much sense previously alongside Trial By Jury.
None of this would have worked without the conviction of Hayward. He moved convincingly from being a small-town, repressed Alfio, short of one or two marbles judging by his hesitant steps and inability to control his emotions, to a supposedly wiser, more worldly Aleko, whose anger still lay only just below the surface.
As Alfio, he was seen wringing his bloodstained hands at the end of the Mascagni. He was still wringing his hands, albeit now no longer gory, when he became Aleko. Shortly afterwards, he fondly cradled the gun he had used to shoot Turiddù (while a passenger in his beaten-up taxi), before secreting it in his suitcase.
Edwards’s set for Cavalleria Rusticana was bleak, in keeping with the deprivations of the villagers, queuing at Lucia’s counter for meagre supplies which soon ran out. It was still dominated by a huge wooden cross against which Turiddù’s outstretched arms presaged his imminent demise.
Presno’s fine tenor was almost too resonant for the role, given that his attacks were relentlessly fierce, making every note sound higher than it really was. But his depiction of emotional immaturity was telling enough.
Elin Pritchard’s Zemfira in Opera North’s Aleko. Picture: Tristram Kenton
He was immensely helped by Giselle Allen’s marvellously vicious Santuzza, spitting tacks like hell-fire. Anne-Marie Owens brought all her authority to bear on Lucia, and Helen Évora’s Lola was exactly the kind of girl-next-door ingénue to catch her lover’s eye.
The set for Aleko was a total contrast, built around a flashy bar where the community seemed to be perpetually drinking or dancing (very appealingly to Tim Claydon’s choreography).
Rakhmaninov’s score has more than a suggestion of Middle Eastern flavour, especially at the start, right out of the Rimsky-Korsakov playbook. Antony Hermus latched onto this, so that his orchestra underlined the other-worldliness of the setting. Elsewhere he was quick to lend extra drama to an already highly charged atmosphere.
Aleko moves forward in a series of tableaux rather than unfolding continuously, which makes the director’s task tough. But Sofulak’s cinematic style, apparently inspired by Kieślowski, was rarely less than riveting.
Hayward’s determined baritone stole the show, with Elin Pritchard’s luscious-toned Zemfira as his faithless wife. It was a clever conceit to have Lola reappear in a vision to remind Aleko of his earlier life. Presno’s Lover had less to do here and remained much in the Turiddù mould.
Matthew Stiff as Zemfira’s father delivered a pleasing seen-it-all-before aria. The chorus relished their opportunities, especially in Aleko, while Hermus kept his orchestra at a high level of intensity. But Hayward was the true key to the evening’s success.
REVIEW: Martin Dreyer’s verdict on Opera North in Albert Herring, Howard Assembly Room, Leeds
Dafydd Jones as Albert Herring in Opera North’s Albert Herring. Picture: Tom Arber
FOR the first show of Laura Canning’s reign as general director, Opera North returned to Giles Havergal’s successful production of 2013, here revived by Elaine Tyler-Hall.
As chamber-comedy, Albert Herring certainly benefited from the relative intimacy of the Howard Room, with the audience aligned three-deep on its long sides, facing inwards, and the action confined to the strip between. The orchestra was where the stage platform would normally be.
The production held fast to Havergal’s insistence that Loxford’s village stereotypes should be clearly differentiated but delivered a few carefully calculated extras. The opening scene was much enlivened by a parade of comely candidates for May Queen, all of whom looked extremely suitable but had to retreat dolefully for their alleged misdemeanours. There was a little caper by the judging panel when Lady Billows acquiesced in the choice of Albert.
Dafydd Jones, who has been a Leeds Lieder Young Artist, made his company debut in the title role with considerable aplomb, graduating smoothly from downtrodden drip to born-again bravado. His Act 2 solos as he fantasised about a better life were excellently paced.
Katie Bray as Nancy and Dominic Sedgwick as Sid in Opera North’s Albert Herring. Picture:Tom Arber
He was well supported by Dominic Sedgwick’s breezy Sid, whose aria was nicely nuanced, and Katie Bray’s assured and engaging Nancy; their love-duet was a breath of fresh air in this stuffy village.
Judith Howarth was in fine fettle as Lady Billows, superbly bolstered by Heather Shipp’s Florence Pike, who was if anything even more waspish: a formidable duo. William Dazeley, the only holdover from the original cast, was an avuncular vicar, wringing his hands in diffidence, matched in character-acting by Paul Nilon’s out-of-his-depth mayor.
Amy Freston’s twittery schoolmarm and Richard Mosley-Evans’s blustery local copper added further fuel to the farce. There was always the feeling that Claire Pascoe’s severe Mrs Herring meant well, a feather in her cap.
The threnody over Albert’s casket-to-be, which was overlaid by his tye-marked jacket, was beautifully delivered, which made Albert’s reincarnation all the more effective.
Rosa Sparks as Emmie, left, Willow Bell as Cis and Oliver Mason as Harry in Opera North’s Albert Herring. Picture: Tom Arber
There was a strong sense of a generation gap between the young and old in this village, enhanced by the three children, who were ably led by Rosa Sparks as Emmie, a promising debutante here.
Willow Bell as Cissie and Oliver Mason as Harold were her lively underlings, all encouraged to sing properly rather than pseudo-shout. Their alternates were Lucy Eatock and Dougie Sadgrove; all four are members of the company’s Children’s Chorus. They broke into dance at the slightest excuse (movement director Tim Claydon) which added to the fun.
Vital to the success of the whole evening was the stylish contribution by Garry Walker’s orchestra, whose interludes were potently atmospheric, notably in Act 2.
Diction was not always as clean as it might have been, and some of the voices strayed into territory too forceful for this arena, but those were minor misgivings in the face of Tyler-Hall’s admirable sense of ensemble. This site-specific production could not tour, though sold out weeks in advance. It will, however, be streamed on Operavision later this year.
Galina Averina (third from left) as Magda and Elgan Llŷr Thomas (seated right) as Prunier in Opera North’s La Rondine. Picture: Tristram Kenton
IN a time of financial stringency, you would not automatically think of one of Puccini’s least-popular operas as compelling box office.
Unless of course you were willing to take the risks that Opera North has become famous for and could find a way to fit it into your Green Season, redeploying old sets and costumes and considering how to save the planet while also saving money.
Nor would La Rondine (The Swallow) spring easily to most minds as a parting gesture: it marks general director Richard Mantle’s farewell to the company he joined in 1994, the very year that Opera North staged its first production of the work (which also happens to be one of his ‘Top Ten’ operas). Nothing ventured, nothing gained has surely been Mantle’s motto – and it has worked out admirably.
Thus James Hurley’s new production has a dual task: first to convince that La Rondine needs to be seen in Leeds again and, if so, that it deserves to supplant Francesca Zambello’s successful 1994 effort, which enjoyed two revivals.
Leslie Travers’s set makes use of two multi-purpose steel fabrications on wheels, stretching over two storeys. Kept close together they serve to outline Magda’s salon; they are opened up to accommodate the festivities chez Bullier, with a gigantic vase of flowers between. The remaining atmosphere is left to the canny lighting of Paule Constable and Ben Pickersgill, notably in Act 3, where you can almost smell the Mediterranean beneath the blue sky.
Three of the five principals are making their company debuts, which adds to the fun. Galina Averina is one, an enigmatic Magda singing with considerable charm that is never quite matched by her appearance.
While one accepts that she needs to blend in with the crowd at Bullier’s, her homely dress makes her stand out for the wrong reason, nor does her 1920s’ wig do her any favours. You even have to wonder what it is that so allures Ruggero: how is it that someone so attractive in her biography image can have been made to look so ordinary?
Sébastien Guèze’s Ruggero is ideal as the provincial innocent, clearly out of his depth in matters amatory, but his tenor is too often less than magnetic. It is not tight so much as lacking that extra flair which more carefree resonance might provide. Ultimately one has to ask what they really see in each other.
The contrast with the secondary lovers is stark. Claire Lees is marvellously flighty as Lisette, the perfect soubrette, thoroughly enjoying herself in her coloratura and catching the eye on her every appearance. There is no mistaking the chemistry between her and Elgan Llŷr Thomas’s gallant bounder Prunier, whose tenor carries the necessary touch of steel.
Philip Smith makes the most of his acquiescent Rambaldo, to the point where one has to feel he is surely the better bet for Magda in the long run. Opera cannot work like that, of course.
Act 2 is the superb centrepiece of the evening. Here Hurley exercises total control over the comings and goings of the chorus, each with clearly defined roles. But none oversteps the mark, so that attention is never diverted from the principals, a tricky tightrope.
Gabrielle Dalton’s costumes come into their own here, but equally effective is Lauren Poulton’s buoyant choreography, which is further enlivened by a quartet of apache dancers.
Kerem Hasan’s orchestra is consistently persuasive, especially in the slower waltzes, keeping a creamy momentum through Puccini’s insistent tempo changes. It is a delight to be able to take refuge in the pit whenever the action above is less than convincing.
Should Zambello have been recycled? It is a close shave, but the overall achievement justifies this new approach.
Andri Björn Róbertsson as Nebulous, Xavier Hetherington as Scrofulous and Matthew Brook as Sceptic with Chorus of Opera Northmembersin Masque Of Might.All pictures: James Glossop
APART from Dido & Aeneas, Henry Purcell’s main contribution to drama lies in what Roger North was pleased to call “semi-operas”, no doubt with a slight sneer in his voice.
But there is plenty of drama, too, in his choral music, notably his odes for Queen Mary’s various birthdays and for St Cecilia’s Day and even – appropriately for Leeds – in The Yorkshire Feast Song of 1690.
These and more, including sacred music, provided the treasure-trove from which David Pountney cobbled together 44 musical extracts for Masque Of Might, a crazy extravaganza whose world premiere run he directs here.
Anna Dennis’s Witch in Opera North’s world premiere of Masque Of Might
There is no spoken text of any kind, merely what Pountney himself calls “creating a narrative by the law of zany juxtaposition”. In truth, Purcell’s semi-operas are not compellingly coherent either, rather the opposite. So this exercise has its justification. But it can only be understood as masque: searching for a narrative thread here is distracting, and ultimately self-defeating.
Fittingly for Opera North’s Green Season, Masque Of Might is described as an eco-entertainment. Its storyline, such as it is, subsists around dictatorship and ecology and their impact on one another. At its centre is a dictator, handily named Diktat, whose birth into a giant pram is celebrated by Tousel Blond and Strumpet Ginger, two countertenor sycophants (cue ‘Sound The Trumpet’ and ‘Come Ye Sons Of Art, Away’), and frowned on by the watching gods, Nebulous and Elena.
The latter becomes Diktat’s prime antagonist throughout. Several climate change activists are thrown into prison by an angry Diktat (‘Hear My Prayer, O Lord’), after he is warned of the earth’s declining health. One is murdered and Elena laments (‘The Plaint’ from The Fairy Queen).
Callum Thorpe as Diktat with the Masque of Might dancers at Leeds Grand Theatre
Act 2 sees Diktat at first displaying his machismo by killing a boar, but gradually the tide turns, as those who have praised Diktat now acknowledge the empty flattery that surrounds him. A series of nightmares forces Diktat to face up to nature’s cries (‘’Tis nature’s voice”) – melting glaciers, forest fires, a trembling earth – and to visit a fortune-teller for a vision of the future (Saul and the Witch of Endor).
Warned that he will forfeit his kingdom, his power crumbles and he is destroyed. Light returns and the earth’s recovery begins (‘Welcome, Welcome Glorious Morn’).
Mere narrative alongside a handful of the better-known Purcellian extracts omits episodes that see-saw between the faintly ludicrous and the deadly serious. These include slapstick clowns struggling with ironing boards; a huge sci-fi insect; a Putin look-alike puppet dangled by a Seer; a vision of Stalin as adviser in a caravan (imported from the same season’s Falstaff); death by electric chair and a chainsaw-wielding chorus.
Anna Dennis as Elena and Andri Björn Róbertsson as Nebulous in Opera North’s Masque Of Might
While Leslie Travers’s sets emphasise the value of the everyday, David Haneke’s video designs take us from circling planets to catastrophic natural events brought about by climate change and Marie-Jeanne Lecca’s kaleidoscopic costumes change moods and eras at will.
Callum Thorpe’s forthright bass exudes authority and gravitas as Diktat, a commanding presence and an admirable hate-figure. Anna Dennis’s chic soprano lends style to the otherwise under-written role of Elena and doubles usefully as the Witch. James Laing and James Hall pair well as the sycophants, although neither has quite the strength in their lower range so often demanded by Purcell from his countertenors.
Xavier Hetherington’s ringing tenor makes the most of his four roles, notably as Seer and Saul. Both Matthew Brook and Andri Björn Róbertsson offer strong baritone contributions in a variety of cameos.
Going green in Opera North’s Green Season: Chorus members in Masque Of Might
The chorus sings confidently and holds its own well in Denni Sayers’s lively choreography alongside several professional dancers, finishing as pompom-wielding cheerleaders. Harry Bicket’s expertise in earlier musics everywhere shines through his eager orchestra, whose momentum is untiring.
Although Huw Daniel is cited as editor of the musical numbers, David Pountney deserves the laurels for mounting this extraordinary show, which at the very least introduces us to parts of Purcell that others never reach. He sticks quite closely to the original texts but is not averse to making subtle alterations that fit his scenario, in a period literary style that essentially disguises their newness.
There is, for my money, not enough character-building outside that of Diktat and there is over-emphasis on baritone and countertenor voices. But as a highly imaginative revitalisation of masque, it deserves immense praise.
Further performances in Leeds until October 27, then on tour until November 16. Box office:
Review by Martin Dreyer, October 14
Jonny Aubrey-Bentley, left, Rose Ellen Lewis, Ruby Portus and Ben Yorke-Griffiths as the Masque of Might dancersin Opera North’s world premiere
