SEEN AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL

SEEN AND HEARD UK CONCERT REVIEW
 

Richard Strauss, Elektra: Soloists, London Symphony Orchestra, LSO Chorus, Valery Gergiev, Barbican Hall, London, 12.1.2010 (GDn)

Jeanne-Michèle Charbonnet Elektra
Angela Denoke Chrysothemis
Felicity Palmer Clytemnestra
Matthias Goerne Orestes
Ian Storey Aegisthus

Ekaterina Popova Overseer/Confidante

Olga Legkova First Maid

Ekaterina Sergeeva Second Maid/Trainbearer

Varvara Solovieva Third Maid

Tatiana Kravtsova Fourth Maid

Lia Shevtsova Fifth Maid

Andrey Popov Young Servant

Vuyani Mlinde Old Servant/Orestes’s Companion

London Symphony Chorus (Anthony Negus Assistant Conductor)

Valery Gergiev conductor


Steely eyed, knitted brow, arms flailing wildly in the air...no, I’m not talking about Valery Gergiev – he was quite restrained on this occasion – but Jeanne-Michèle Charbonnet as Elektra. There was no staging in this performance, semi- or otherwise, but Charbonnet was determined to give the part its full dramatic pathos. Sadly, her voice did not quite match her actions; it lacked presence and volume, especially in the upper register. To be fair though, she was a late substitution, Eva Johansson being indisposed. Not through illness, mind, but double booking with an opera house commitment, which is an excuse on a par with your train being cancelled because the driver didn’t turn up for work. But no matter, Charbonnet was a competent stand in, if not an exceptional one.

Fortunately, the remainder of the cast more than compensated. Angela Denoke has the sort of full voice that could fit comfortably into almost any of Strauss’ soprano roles, and she gave us a Chrysothemis that elegantly balanced the dispassionate, sensible sister with the impassioned and frustrated would-be mother. She laid on too much vibrato for my taste, but perhaps that is forgivable given the impressionistic excesses of the work.

Felicity Palmer has still got what it takes. The passing years seem only to increase her suitability for her signature role of Clytemnestra. Her tone is a little brittle at the top, but otherwise has all the substance, character and, most importantly of all, menace that the part requires. The image of her in her stately black satin dress, cackling maniacally at the humiliated Elektra is one that will stay with me for a long time.

Given the magnetic star quality that Mathias Goerne injects into a performance by merely walking onto the stage, the role of Orestes inevitably seems like something of a cameo. How frustrating to hear so little of those deep, burnished tones. The role is a little low for him, and one or two of his lowest passages were swallowed up in the orchestra, but otherwise it was an impressive turn. And what a magical entrance, his first phrase in the opera (which is about two thirds of the way through) supported by a quartet of Wagner tubas, all surprisingly in tune and giving a warmth of tone that perfectly matching his lustrous sound.

No complaints about the other voices either. Ian Storey made an arresting Aegisthus. The quintet of maids in the opening scene was sung magnificently by an all-Russian ensemble, although there were a few moments here and there of very Russian-tinged German. The LSO Chorus made an appearance at the end, requiring logistical cunning, considering the orchestra alone looked cramped on the Barbican’s small stage. The solution: to arrange the choir down the left-hand aisle of the auditorium. Heaven knows what they had to say to the fire safety officer to get permission for that one. It is not an ideal solution, but better that than cut the orchestra.

And what an incredible performance from them. Elektra is the sort of opera where you really want to see the orchestra; there so many unusual sounds that emanate, disembodied, from the back of the pit, and it is satisfying to be able to identify them as bass trumpet, or heckelphone, or Wagner tuba quartet. You get an idea of the lengths to which opera orchestras must go to put on this now canonical work; where on earth, for example, does one find a mute for a contrabass trombone? Full musical honours are due to the LSO’s augmented brass section, the Wagner tubas (as mentioned earlier) maintaining impressive intonation, weighty but controlled playing from the trombones, and perky, precise interjections from the trumpets. The young Philip Cobb again proved his worth on first trumpet, his appointment at such a young age a risk that has paid off handsomely for the orchestra. Incidentally, I read in the programme that his predecessor but one, Maurice Murphy, was awarded an MBE in the New Year Honours, an award justified by his playing on the Star Wars soundtrack alone in my opinion.

Elsewhere in the orchestra, the lower strings excelled, never losing any of their trademark power or ensemble in the excitement. Impressive playing from the percussion too, the timpani in particular punctuating the power of the brass with precision and clarity.

That’s not to say that this was a particularly analytical or detail-driven account. I had expected Gergiev to focus on clarity of line and orchestral texture, but I’m glad that he didn’t. This is, after all, a work of inner turmoil and conflicting, confused emotions. Gergiev gave an uncharacteristically clear beat almost throughout, an indication perhaps of the technical challenges the score poses, but never gave the impression of undue intervention. Most of the work was performed without over-emphasised climaxes or starkly articulated mood changes. He more-or-less allowed the music to tell its own story, and seemed to leave the singers to their own devices as well, only very rarely turning to give them individual cues.

But then it all changed. As soon as the blood started to flow, Gergiev picked up the pace and drove the last twenty minutes or so up to a shattering climax. Up until then he had been holding the brass back (a little at least) for the sake of the singers, but he pulled out all the stops for the gory finale. Amazingly, the sense of control and balance, from the singers and the orchestra survived intact, the added punch having no apparent side-effects. I left with my nerves in tatters, suggesting that Gergiev and his forces had done full justice to the emotional and dramatic insights of Strauss, Hofmannsthal and Sophocles.

Gavin Dixon