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“Opera In The Garden”:  Hayden Tee (guest soloist), Nigel Ubrihien (guest piano accompanist), Ju-An Kim, Lachie MacLean, Margie Paul (piano accompanists), Opera North, Joan Kennaway QSM (musical director), Peter Fry (guest compère), Operacardo Orchard, Glenbervie, Whangarei, New Zealand, 14.3.2009 (Pse)


Where do I start? I know – Temple Newsham House, near Leeds, UK. Please bear with me; I’m not off my trolley! It plays host to the annual “Opera in the Park” and which, as a bourgeois kiwi, I attended for (probably) the last time in July 2007. Now, as an eighteen-months-old ersatz kiwi, I’ve attended Whangarei’s annual “Opera in the Garden” for the first time.

The two events sound as though they are quite similar, and indeed they are – provided that for the piano you substitute the symphony orchestra of Opera North (Leeds’s coincidentally-named opera company), for Whangarei’s Opera North you substitute the mighty Leeds Philharmonic Chorus plus professional operatic soli, and for around 1,000 listeners on a lawn you substitute 20,000 in a huge natural amphitheatre. Much bigger, yes, but is it better?

Well, you do get a truly spectacular setting, and opera much more as its composers intended. But really that’s about it. I must say, though, that the accomplished accompanists compensated well for the loss of colour. Our (says the ersatz kiwi) Opera North is conceived, like the baroque concerto grosso or the latter-day jazz band, as a compact, infinitely elastic ensemble that sprouts “temporary” soli as occasions demand. Ever since its inception, some dozen years ago, its mission has been to furnish a full “nursery” service for Northland singers. It’s an elegant organism, superbly serving its multiplicity of purposes – education in all aspects of operatic and musical theatrical performance, endless encouragement and, of course, actually entertaining the public.

Inevitably, one consequence of the “conveyor belt” aspect of such a continuous undertaking is that individuals are always in various stages of technical development. For instance, not everyone’s intonation is razor-sharp (yet!), especially in this less-than-ideal outdoor environment. Yet, through this shines one crucial constant – boundless, infectious enthusiasm. My predominant impression was that every man-jack of them can already act the socks off many – if not most – professional opera singers.

This is an astute move, as, more than any amount of singing technique, it immediately gets singers into the all-important business of entertaining! Neither, it seems, have they learnt fear, judging by their gutsy assaults on the complex counterpoints of Mozart (the septet Riposate, vezzose from Don Giovanni), Donizetti (the sextet Chi mi Frena from Lucia di Lammermoor) and Verdi (the quartet Bella figlia dell’ amore from Rigoletto and the finale of Falstaff).

Here I am caught in something of a cleft stick. These were clearly “ensemble” performances, involving over two dozen soli in various combinations. Really, as I cannot mention them all individually, it would be unfair to single any out. Yet some nevertheless do deserve individual credit. But where do I draw the line? The answer is, “arbitrarily”! Luke Bird (La donna e mobile from Verdi’s Rigoletto) and Grant Willis (the Catalogue from Mozart’s Don Giovanni) both illustrated to a “T” the precedence of acting skills, lifting their vocal performances with some telling gestures and expressions.

Tracey Barnier-Willis (D’amour l’ardente flamme from Berlioz’s The Damnation of Faust) and Emma Norris (Caro nome from Verdi’s Rigoletto) displayed respectively the rounded gravitas and coquettish charm that I’ve already noted (here). Joan Kennaway was instrumental in dreaming up and realising Opera in the Garden. As an inspirational teacher, she is also a prime mover of Opera North itself. Temporarily relinquishing her station, she reminded the audience of her own vocal talents, joining the gentlemen of Opera North for Le Vergine degli Angeli from Verdi’s La Forza del Destino.

However, for me the individual rosette went to Kawiti Waetford. Fully-costumed for the Toreador’s Song from Bizet’s Carmen, his rich, brown voice and braggart swaggering elicited much comically dizzy swooning from the “groupies” in the chorus. Unfortunately, his snarling vehemence in Falcon in the Dive from Wildhorn’s The Scarlet Pimpernel invoked something a little less welcome – the first of a couple of (thankfully brief) rain showers!

After the break, the accent shifted from opera to musical theatre. Hayden Tee, who hails from Maungaturoto, near Whangarei, is undoubtedly a rising star of the World’s musical theatre and cabaret stages. On a flying visit with his cohort Nigel Ubrihien, this “local lad made good” – particularly when he joined the ensemble – very neatly exemplified the top of Opera North’s aspirational tree. In his solo cabaret performance, he demonstrated an enviably wide range of vocal technique and dramatic flair – his manic “Broadway Show-time Queen”, for instance, was as hair-raising as it was hilarious. On this showing, I’d say that Hayden’s worst failing is that he doesn’t get home often enough.

However, this show had one other “star”: the audience. In Leeds the huge crowd – encouraged by a “gee ’em up” compère, coarse, over-driven P.A., numerous side-shows and burger bars – not surprisingly regarded the event as an up-market fun-fair. Glenbervie is far more civilised. Nestling in the glorious garden, apparently unfazed by hot sunshine and cold shower alike, engaged by a sane and sensible, yet witty and informative compère, the otherwise highly sociable crowds became as quiet as church mice during the performances. I found that as wonderful – well, almost – as the show itself!

For large outdoor events, artificial sound projection is necessary. For “natural” sounds, it’s a necessary evil. I personally doubt the wisdom of placing microphones inside the piano, but otherwise the sound projection, exhibiting remarkably low levels of distortion, discreet yet effective, was the best I’ve ever come across.

So, where do I finish? That’s easy. Kiwis have acquired the habit of saying, “We don’t know how lucky we are.” Well, having seen both sides of this particular coin, I can say, “I do know how lucky we are.”

Paul Serotsky

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