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*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*

*Katarina Karnéus as Kundry and Toby Spence as Parsifal in Opera North’s Parsifal. All pictures: Clive Barda*

THERE is a point in Act 2 of Parsifal where Kundry, having failed to seduce Parsifal with her kiss and describing her reaction to witnessing the Crucifixion, lets out a blood-curdling ‘lachte’, attacking a high B natural and descending nearly two octaves to a low C sharp: she laughed.

Anyone not expecting it must have jumped out of their skin when Katarina Karnéus delivered it here. This spine-chilling moment, mentioned in his Parsifalkreuz by Wieland Wagner and helpfully recalled in a programme note by Neil Sorrell, is pivotal to understanding Kundry and thus to the success of the whole opera.

The scream revealed the anger, the anguish, the remorse, the manic personality of one who is not easy to read. But for all her faults, she has set Parsifal on the path to enlightenment: he is forced to shed his innocence, like Adam in the Garden of Eden. He begins to suffer – like Christ – and views the world differently, as does Kundry when baptised by him in Act 3.

*Robert Hayward as Amfortas: “Sustained an admirably full-blooded howl but could have afforded to tone down the self-pity”*

Since the whole work is a Bühnenweihfestspiel (stage festival consecration play), we are forced to take on board its religious significance: the very act of consecration implies holiness. It spoke well for Sam Brown’s production that these ideas came through so clearly.

Brown was working with a number of constraints, not least that the augmented orchestra was taking up most of the stage. This was partly overcome through a lower extension of the stage over part of the orchestra pit. But it still left precious little space for the principals.

The chorus appeared either ranged around the back of the stalls, as in Act 1, or on the extension, which allowed the knights to line up three-deep but forced the ladies into the upper stage boxes.

*Toby Spence as Parsifal with the Orchestra and members of the Chorus of Opera North*

Less easy to accommodate from an audience perspective was Bengt Gomér’s dark lighting, particularly the multiple small spots twinkling almost incessantly behind the orchestra. They cast the conductor into silhouette and when fully lit, as at the uncovering of the Grail on a rostrum downstage, shone straight into our eyes. They were a distraction, not to say a discomfort, whether deliberate or no.

There was no set to speak of, but Klingsor’s spear was lowered on a suspended platform, which reappeared later as Titurel’s bier, a good space-saving device.

Nevertheless, having Richard Farnes’s orchestra in full view was an inestimable benefit. His dozen years as music director here, which culminated in a full Ring cycle in 2016, meant he had no need to cajole his players; they followed him with near-religious devotion.

*Opera North music director Richard Farnes : “No need to cajole his players; they followed him with near-religious devotion”*

Textures were everywhere transparent, none more so than in the Good Friday music. There was a masterly crescendo at the healing of Amfortas’s wound, but it was the moments of calm, with magical swells and diminuendos, that really hit home. Farnes’s attention to detail was immaculate, each occurrence of the ‘Dresden Amen’, for example, seeming to carry slightly different significance.

Toby Spence made a powerful debut in the title role. His youthful features made his journey from innocence through trial to enlightenment all the more credible. He was a naïve, headstrong youth at the start, moving jerkily, but assumed a more adult poise after learning of his mother’s death when “confession turns guilt to remorse”.

Having sought solace with his head in Kundry’s lap, his now-pungent tone took on greater resonance. As he relaxes into the role, he may have yet more to give, but needed no more in this arena.

*Brindley Sherratt as Gurnemanz and Toby Spence as Parsifal. “Sherratt’s German diction was faultless, matched by musicality that kept his narrative absorbing”*

He had been set a frankly superb example by Brindley Sherratt’s Gurnemanz, whose German diction was faultless, matched by musicality that kept his narrative absorbing. Returning much aged in Act 3, his avuncular tone inspired renewed confidence.

Karnéus adapted fluently to the many facets of Kundry’s mysterious character, making her something close to sympathetic, even seeming relevant when having little to do in Act 3.

Derek Welton’s incisive baritone spat menace as Klingsor, looking devilish in wide slashes of red and grey, courtesy of Stephen Rodwell’s costuming. Robert Hayward’s wounded Amfortas sustained an admirably full-blooded howl but could have afforded to tone down the self-pity; Stephen Richardson fashioned a suitably hoary Titurel.

*Toby Spence as Parsifal: “A powerful debut in the title role”*

The six Flowermaidens were an oasis of pure delight, as if parachuted in from Gilbert & Sullivan. The chorus was typically forthright, taking every opportunity on offer and sustaining a keen blend.

The touring dates were due to be concert stagings. It was hard to imagine that this marginally reduced format, so successful in the company’s previous Wagner outings, would be any less gripping.

Review by Martin Dreyer

Further performance at Leeds Grand Theatre on June 10, 4pm, then on tour from June 12 to 26. Running time: Five hours 30 minutes, including two intervals. Full details at: operanorth.co.uk.

Tag: Wagner

REVIEW: Martin Dreyer’s verdict on Opera North in The Flying Dutchman, Leeds Grand Theatre, until February 21

REVIEW: Martin Dreyer’s verdict on Parsifal, Opera North, Leeds Grand Theatre, June 1