According to the ‘Sunday Times’ critic, the current
‘must see’ in town is that other love-potion story at Covent Garden;
however, he also more or less tells us that the Tristan cannot sing,
so I think I’ll give that one a miss, since the work in question happens
to be called ‘Tristan und…………’ Far better to go along to the crumbling
old Coliseum and enjoy this frothy treat, in a production only premiered
in 1998 but looking for all the world like something Jonathan Miller
or David Pountney would have concocted in, oh, 1982. We are here in
that so-useful world of small – town Italy – or maybe Croatia? Or Spain?
Oh hell, they’re all the same, anyhow, aren’t they, with their endless
dreary sub-Soviet bureaucracy, their posters flung up all over the decaying
walls, and their filigree cast – iron bridges framing giant – size sculptures
of gloomy dignitaries – eh?
So, where’s the sunshine, then, sunshine? Maybe it’s
Jude Kelly’s background in Leeds, that coldbed of dark Satanic mills,
but we are miles away from the heady warmth of Italy and the passion
of the warm South - the true, the blushful Hippocrene and all that only
gets a look-in here in the shape of Dulcamara’s cheap plonk potion.
My heart sank when the curtain went up on those gunmetal – grey office
backdrops, those monumental steps and those grey-clad office workers;
groan, I thought, here we go – now all we need is a bunch of army –
fatigues, and lo! they appeared, mincing like leftovers from that wonderful
Monty Python sketch featuring the camp drill (Ooh, you are a naughty
one!) So, hardly an original directorial concept here, but Kelly does
understand how to make singing actors move and react with conviction,
and given that those singers are amongst the best the house has to offer,
this is a hugely rewarding and enjoyable evening.
The young lovers were taken by Rhys Meirion, who recently
made a respectable stab at Alfredo in the house, and Alison Roddy, most
recently seen here as a delectable Yum –Yum; both were making role debuts,
and they were as credible a pair as could be imagined. Nemorino is a
post – boy in a too-small jacket and hopeless hat, Adina a pert office
flirt. Meirion’s ‘Quanto e bella’ was a little dry and nervous – sounding,
but he recovered to give a performance of charm and mellifluousness;
no point in bemoaning the fact that he’s not Pavarotti, since his singing
as accurate and sensitive as one could expect – there isn’t an Italianate
bone in his body, but who cares? He gave a more than creditable account
of ‘Una furtiva lagrima’ and was convincing as the ‘potion’ began to
have its effect.
Alison Roddy had been ill for the first night, so it
was good to find her in such excellent voice on this occasion; she is
ideal for the part in every way, since her singing is of bell-like clarity,
she has a natural verbal inflection which suits this music admirably,
and she is extremely pert and pretty. She sang her solo music sweetly
and blended beautifully with Nemorino in ‘Esulti pur la Barbara……’ and
with Dulcamara in ‘Io son ricco…’
Dulcamara was entrusted to Andrew Shore, for whose
sonorous buffo-baritono such roles might have been written; he acted
the part of a mirth-bringer with consummate ease, falling naturally
into the concept of Dulcamara not as a charlatan but as a jovial provider
of a little colour in the grey lives around him, and he sang his music
with confidence and tonal beauty – ‘Udite, udite, o rustici’ was enunciated
with real clarity. In fact, the overall standard of diction was excellent,
maintaining the recent much-needed improvement.
Belcore and Giannetta were in the reliable if sometimes
routine hands of Ashley Holland and Sally Harrison, and the chorus sang
with tremendous gusto; the post – ‘wedding party’ scene where Giannetta
tells her friends about Nemorino’s new-found riches was a particular
delight, with the chorus members doing one of those ‘totally smashed’
routines in which they seem to specialize! Michael Lloyd directed an
affectionate, sprightly account of the score, giving the singers plenty
of room and providing all the necessary fizz in the ensembles.
Don’t expect great revelations – they don’t exist in
this opera, anyway – but do expect singing of verve and commitment,
and a production which may appear a little dated in concept but still
fulfils the most vital requirements of setting the characters and actions
against a credible and visually stimulating background.
Melanie Eskenazi
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