After the rather
impenetrable eccentricities of the last NMC opera to come my
way, Gerald Barry’s The Intelligence Park, it’s good
to welcome back a modernist theatre piece that’s direct, lyrical
and reasonably traditional. Originally on the Collins Classics
label, Judith Weir’s Blond Eckbert is a concise two-acter
that had a successful run in Tim Hopkins’ highly stylised production
at ENO. The subsequent Channel 4 film was based in part on that
production but with certain sections ‘fleshed out’ on film,
such as Bertha’s long monologue and the two orchestral preludes.
I happen to still have a VHS tape of that broadcast, in pretty
poor sound, and it made me hanker for a good modern DVD release,
as it was a very effective piece of work. Interested parties
might like to know that the same team, headed by director Margaret
Williams, have given a similar treatment to Weir’s latest operatic
opus, Armida, due to be shown over Xmas this year (2005).
The present CD release
is certainly in much better sound. With a full libretto, it
is easy to enjoy Weir’s take on the Ludwig Tiekle fairy tale,
or dark folk tale, as Weir prefers. The story can be summed
up thus:
Eckbert and his
wife Berthe live in a remote mountain region. One stormy night,
Eckbert’s only friend Walther visits them. To pass the time,
Berthe tells Walther her life story, one of cruelty, abuse and
eventual escape. Walther mentions the name of Berthe’s dog,
a name she herself had forgotten, and Eckbert’s suspicions are
aroused.
Later, as Eckbert
is aimlessly hunting in the forest, he fires an arrow which
kills Walther. All Berthe’s childhood memories and fears have
been awakened by Walther and she becomes ill, near death. Eckbert,
burdened with worry, visits a nearby city seeking distraction.
He is befriended by Hugo, whose likeness to Walther arouses
more suspicion in Eckbert. He rushes away, eventually finding
himself in the landscape of Berthe’s childhood. An old woman
reveals to him that she, Walther and Hugo are the same person,
and also reveals the terrible news that Eckbert and Berthe are
siblings. Eckbert falls to the ground, insane and dying.
Weir was obviously
gripped by the narrative and the way it unfolds. The various
subtexts, such as the past coming back to haunt the individual,
the penalties of messing with nature etc lend themselves well
to operatic treatment. Weir’s multi-layered libretto and eclectic
musical language give the piece both form and momentum. It has
often been pointed out that Weir is more effective when writing
in concise forms, and this tightly structured opera is a good
example of this. She is a skilful orchestrator, as the preludes
and numerous other details attest, and the musical language
on display is direct, colourful and lyrical. If one hears wisps
of Britten, Tippett and Janáček, this is no bad thing in
an opera. There are also echoes of Wozzeck here and there,
something Hopkins’ expressionistic staging further highlighted.
The cast are first-rate
and very much on top of their respective roles. Ann-Marie Owens
is exceptional in Berthe’s long Act 1 monologue and Christopher
Ventris (tenor, not baritone as the booklet says) clearly enjoys
the challenge of three differing parts. The recording displays
some of its live origins but is full, clear and warm. Apparently
there was some criticism of Sian Edwards’ conducting of the
premiere, but I have nothing but praise for her control of the
teeming orchestral detail whilst never losing sight of the longer
line and many dramatic high points. Whilst this CD release is
most welcome, I feel it is a piece that benefits from being
seen and a DVD of Channel Four’s excellent film really would
be the ticket – let’s hope someone’s taking notice.
Tony Haywood
Blond Eckbert –
Nicholas Folwell (baritone)
