Mark Ronan's opera blog

In this production by Fiona Shaw, with designs by Dorothy Cross and Tom Pye, upturned boats are carried on to the stage like coffins, conveying a powerful sense of finality at the end. Maurya was very well sung by Patricia Bardon, with Kate Valentine and Claire Booth as her daughters, and Leigh Melrose as her sixth son. Richard Hickox rehearsed the orchestra, but died a few days before it opened — yet more grief — and the ENO's music director Edward Gardner took over. He did a fine job.

As this was such a short opera, there was an interesting prologue, namely Sibelius's Luonnotar, sung in Finnish by Susan Gritton. Luonnotar means female spirit of nature, sometimes called Ilmatar, meaning female spirit of the air. She is impregnated by the sea and wind, giving birth to the heavens, moon and stars. It was an appropriate way to start, and I applaud the English National Opera for their imagination.

Les Contes d'Hoffmann at the Royal Opera November 2008. This was opening night, so Rolando Villazon can be forgiven for starting out rather weakly as Hoffmann, particularly as he strengthened during the performance and did a fine job of the final scene at the tavern. This opera is an intriguing work, where Hoffmann describes three earlier loves, Olympia, Giulietta, and Antonia, all of whom portray aspects of his current lover, the opera singer Stella. The well-dressed Count Lindorf appears in the tavern and is determined to detach her from Hoffmann. He then appears first as Coppelius, creator of Hoffmann's first lover, the mechanical doll Olympia; second as Dappertutto the confidante of Hoffmann's next lover, the courtesan Giulietta; and third as Dr. Miracle, overseeing the death of Hoffmann's other lover Antonia. She has a beautiful voice, inherited from her late mother, but her father blames Miracle for the death, forbids Antonia to sing, and bans Miracle from the house. But Miracle enters, persuades her to sing, and she dies in Hoffman's arms. The three thaumaturges and Count Lindorf are one and the same, and these four incarnations were well sung by Gidon Saks, though I would have preferred a darker voice and presence.

As to the ladies, Olympia was sung and acted to perfection by Ekaterina Lekhina. It is difficult to imagine a better performance, and I shall always remember this as the highlight of the evening. Giulietta was Christine Rice, Antonia was Katie van Kooten, and Stella was Olga Sabadoch. None could compare to the first one, a feature that would have been avoided by having one soprano for all four roles, as Offenbach intended, though I realise a suitable singer is hard to come by. The strange house servant for all three of the young ladies destroyed by Hoffmann's attentions was extremely well sung and portrayed by Graham Clark, and Kristine Jepson was good as Hoffmann's companion. Antonio Pappano conducted with superb lyricism, and this was a fine performance.

The original production was by John Schlesinger, and I suppose it was his idea to eliminate the end of Act II, so Giulietta simply sails off in a gondola instead of drinking the poison that Dapertutto has prepared for Hoffmann. She should die in Hoffmann's arms, like the other two. He holds the doll as it disintegrates, and holds Antonia as she dies. I was very disappointed that they missed the final music for this act, and Dapertutto's, "Ah, Giulietta, maladroite!", which for me is one of the high points of the opera.

Highly recommended, but losing the end of Act II partly loses the plot, because Hoffmann, allied by the magus, destroys his lovers, and in recalling these destructions he is ready to let Stella go. By forcing Hoffmann metaphorically to see himself in a mirror, the magus, alias Count Lindorf, wins the woman who combines all three lovers. And that is a good reason for going back to Offenbach's original order for the three acts: Olympia, Antonia, Giulietta, where the final one of these uses a mirror to capture Hoffmann's image. It is a great shame that Offenbach died before the first performance, as this has given other people the excuse to monkey around with his intentions. Can we please get back to the original!! Yes, it's long, but if we use the original spoken dialogue instead of recitative, we won't need the cuts. Sets designs by William Dudley were excellent, as were the costumes by Maria Bjoernson, and the lighting by David Hersey was superb.

This opening night was dedicated to Richard Hickox, who conducted the previous performances in 2004, and had died suddenly a few days earlier.

Boris Godunov at the English National Opera, November 2008. This was the original 1869 version in seven scenes, performed without an interval. Mussorgsky based it on Pushkin's play of the same name, which was first staged in 1870, and in 1872 he wrote a new operatic version in four acts that included female roles. After his death, Rimsky-Korsakov re-orchestrated the opera, making it easier for ears accustomed to more westernised music, but we have now tended to go back to Mussorgsky's orchestration, and I prefer its raw folk rhythms and daring harmonies. This ENO performance was sung to a translation by David Lloyd-Jones, and well conducted by Edward Gardner except that it lacked colour in important places, and the bells were not right at all. They were too loud, and did not sound like bells, much less Russian bells, which produce their distinctive sound by tolling rather than pealing. The chorus was superb, befitting the fact that the Russian people are a principal focus of the opera. The title character, sung by Peter Rose, appeared weak by comparison, looking more like a troubled businessman than a master of the universe tortured by uncertainties and guilt.

In order to understand the story it helps to know a little Russian history. Ivan the Terrible died in 1584, and his brother-in-law Boris Godunov took over as regent. The heir to the throne was the unworldly Fyodor I, whose younger brother Dmitri died under mysterious circumstances in 1591. Godunov ordered an enquiry, conducted by Prince Shuisky, who found the death to be accidental, though there was a rumour that Godunov had arranged for the boy to be murdered. In 1598 when Fyodor I died the people begged Boris Godunov to take over as Tsar, and the opera starts with his reluctant acceptance. The existence of a pretender to the throne, who claims to be the real Dmitri, but is really a runaway monk, presents an important complication, and the opera ends with Boris's descent into confusion and death. The finest singing in this performance was from Brindley Sherratt as the monk Pimen, and Robert Murray was very good as the simpleton whom Boris asks to pray for him. The simpleton's refusal to pray for 'Tsar Herod' is one of the high points of the opera, but unfortunately Boris had left the stage and the effect was lost. The other great bass role, for the monk Varlaam was sung by Robert Viera, and Prince Shuisky was John Graham-Hall. They sang well but were not in the same class as Sherratt. Boris's son, who is to be the next Tsar, was well performed by Anna Grevelius. The production by Tim Albery, with sets by Tobias Hoheisel, and costumes by Brigitte Reifenstuel, dressed the Russian people in grey, emphasising their lack of any real power. Unfortunately the soldiers in their smart uniforms commanded little respect, probably because as extras they felt themselves inferior to the chorus. Directors are not always good at dealing with this, and here it showed.

Elektra at the Royal Opera, November 2008. Mark Elder conducted superbly, and the recognition scene between Elektra and her brother Orestes came over with enormous strength. Susan Bullock was a powerfully emotional Elektra, Anne Schwanewilms a strongly beautiful Chrysothemis, and Jane Henschel sang well as Klytaemnestra. Johan Reuter was very powerful as Orestes, and Frank van Aken was Aegisthus. The production was by Charles Edwards, who also did the set designs and lighting. These showed Elektra's messy and darkly lit corner of the palace, with a revolving door at the back connecting it to the rest of the establishment. In this version of the story, the librettist Hugo von Hofmannsthal used Sophocles, rather than Euripedes, where Elektra lives as a peasant wife. Here she lives in the palace, and I found the costume designs by Brigitte Reifenstuel very effective, particularly the contrast between Elektra's dark gown and the elegant long dress of her sister Chrysothemis. Klytaemnestra also wore a long dress, and one of her ladies-in-waiting looked very elegant, serving to highlight the dichotomy between Elektra's situation and that of almost everyone else. After Orestes accomplishes the two murders, the wall with the revolving door lifts to show the interior of the palace where flames appear out of the floor as in some final scene from Don Giovanni. Effective, but what really carries this opera is the music, and Mark Elder directed a great performance.

Dr. Atomic in a live cinema screening from the Metropolitan Opera in New York, November 2008. This is about Robert Oppenheimer's leadership of the Second World War quest to build a nuclear bomb. The music by John Adams is wonderful, but the libretto by Peter Sellars falls far short of expressing the potential drama of this story. As a piece of theatre this opera fails, and I kept my eyes closed through most of it. When I opened them, the stage action never seemed to match the music. A better libretto would surely have inspired Adams to give us a more theatrical show, and for his next opera he needs to abandon the collaboration with Sellars. There were too many weaknesses, but the plaintive cry of a Japanese mother at the end was surely an unnecessarily egregious extension of a drama that by this time had rather failed to convey the urgency and determination of the scientists who made it all possible. As for the general in charge complaining that he had difficulty keeping his weight down, the less said the better. The best part of the performance was Gerald Finley's wonderful portrayal of Oppenheimer, with Sasha Cooke as his wife. Other performers sang well: Richard Paul Fink as Edward Teller, Thomas Glenn as Robert Wilson, and Eric Owens as the general, to name three, and the music was well conducted by Alan Gilbert. But it was a weak production by Penny Woolcock and did nothing to match the rhythmic intensity of Adams' music, with ineffective sets by Julian Crouch, and darkly conspiratorial lighting by Brain MacDevitt. Many of the audience loved it, but I suspect it was as a catharsis to their sense of guilt over the use of the bomb in 1945.

Partenope at the English National Opera, October 2008. This is the first Handel opera with an entirely comic story, involving the founder of Naples, Queen Partenope. She is surrounded by three princes: Arsace and Armindo, who are wooing her, and Emilio whose country is at war with Naples. She prefers Arsace, not knowing he has recently abandoned Rosmira, who has pursued him to Naples, disguised as a man named Eurimene. He/she confronts Arsace secretly, trying to get him to abandon Partenope, but without success. Eventually, in her role as Eurimene, she challenges him to a duel, but he cleverly insists they fight bare-chested, which forces her to reveal she is a woman. All ends happily with plans for a double wedding: Partenope with Armindo, and Rosmira with Arsace. The music was beautifully conducted by Scottish conductor Christian Curnyn, and Partenope was excellently performed by Rosemary Joshua, with Christine Rice as Arsace, Iestyn Davies as Armindo, Patricia Bardon as Rosmira/Eurimene, and John Mark Ainsley as Emilio. The bass role of Ormonte was performed by James Gower. I recall seeing this opera in Chicago in 2003, where Rosmira was also sung by Patricia Bardon (and Partenope was Elizabeth Futral). In that production the wonderful lighting and a clean stage with very little decor made a fine setting for this beautiful music, but here director Christopher Alden had lots of ideas not all of which worked. The production was too cluttered with irrelevancies, and the toilet scenes that emphasized the juvenile nature of the participants seemed particularly unnecessary. The music speaks for itself. The sets by Andrew Lieberman worked well, as did the modern costumes by Jon Morrell, and the lighting by Adam Silverman was very good. The original text was adapted anonymously from a libretto by Stampaglia, but here we had a vernacular translation by Amanda Holden. I prefer it in Italian.

For You at the Linbury Studio, Royal Opera House, October 2008. This new opera by Michael Berkeley, with a libretto by Ian McEwan, is about a famous and overbearing composer named Charles. He is the serial lover of a string of lady instrumentalists, the latest being a horn player named Joan, and his wife Antonia is unhappy and unwell. Her doctor can't stand him, his assistant Robin dislikes him, and the housekeeper, an attractive Polish girl named Maria, idolises him and is obsessed with taking him from his wife. The outcome of this mess sees the wife in an intensive care ward presided over by the doctor, who plans to win her away from her husband. When Charles visits and expresses strong emotions, the doctor misinterprets his actions as threatening her life, so when the housekeeper Maria arrives to accomplish a real murder and leave Charles's coat by the bed, he is arrested. She tells him, "I did it For You". There is no resolution, and when we are left with two silly policewomen taking Charles away, an otherwise strong story suddenly descends into farce. The music is excellent and the conductor, Michael Rafferty, and the singers, did a fine job. Charles the composer was excellently portrayed by Alan Opie, with Christopher Lemmings as his assistant Robin, Helen Williams as his wife Antonia, Rachel Nichols as the horn player Joan, Jeremy Huw Williams as the doctor, and Allison Cook as the cook, or housekeeper. Well directed by Michael McCarthy, with costumes by Holly McCarthy, and very clear lighting by Mike Brookes. The designs by Simon Banham used large wooden screens, which could be lifted or lowered, and I found these very effective.

Tamerlano in a cinema screening from the Royal Theatre in Madrid, October 2008. This typical Handel opera is a marvellous vehicle for the singers, and the music is a delight, though the plot is nonsense. Tamerlano is in love with Asteria, daughter of the Ottoman Sultan Bajazet, both of whom are his prisoners, but Asteria and the Greek prince Andronico are in love, and so as long as Tamerlano can get over his obsession, avoid being killed by Asteria, and take pleasure in his betrothed Irene, all might be well. It takes three acts to get there, but in the meantime we are treated to some excellent singing. Placido Domingo was wonderful as Bajazet, full of emotion and determination, and Monica Bacelli was superb as Tamerlano, looking and acting the part in the way Handel surely intended. Her several costumes were a knockout, and colourful costumes were one of the delights of this production. They contrasted well with the spare white staging dominated by a large white globe under a huge foot, along with the black costumes of the courtiers. We have Richard Hudson as designer to thank for all this, and Graham Vick for his excellent direction. He has given us, or rather the Royal Opera in Madrid, a superb production. Asteria was well performed and sung by Ingela Bohlin, Andronico equally well performed by Sara Mingardo, and Irene by Jennifer Holloway. Apart from Domingo, a further male voice from Luigi De Donato, as chief courtier, helped the contrast, and this was a gloriously colourful and well judged performance, excellently conducted by Paul McCreesh.

Aida at the English National Opera, October 2008. This was a fine production directed by Jo Davies, with colourful designs by Zandra Rhodes. The costumes were wonderful and the fake elephant in its bright colours was terrific, as were the acrobats. The lighting, originally by Bruno Poet and revived by Kevin Sleep, was excellent, and the whole thing was a delight to the eyes. Jane Dutton gave a strong performance of the princess Amneris, and Iain Patterson was wonderfully sympathetic and powerful as Amonasro, the captive king of Ethiopia. Matthew Best was very good as Ramfis the high priest, looking confidently powerful in his full regalia and shaved head with its wavy blue lines. Aida herself was Claire Rutter, showing plenty of angst and a determination to hide it, and the pharaoh was Gwynne Howell. The cast worked well together, and the orchestra under Gerard Korsten gave excellent support and a glorious rendering of this well known music.

Matilda di Shabran at the Royal Opera, October 2008. This Rossini opera, which appears much later in his ouvre than such perennials as the Barber and Cenerentola is not in the standard repertoire, and one can see why. It goes on too long, and needs a better and shorter libretto, for the story is not complicated: an unhappy warrior, Corradino is entirely out of sympathy with his betrothed, the Contessa d'Arco, and a new girl, our eponymous heroine, arrives to win his heart. She succeeds, but the jilted countess conspires to release an important prisoner, Edoardo to whom the new girl is obviously sympathetic, and then puts the blame on her. She is condemned to death, and Corradino is in agony. When he learns the truth it is too late, and he is ready to commit suicide, until he finds that the death sentence was not carried out (this is hardly Il Trovatore!), and all's well that ends well. It needs more bite, and more intensity, but this was a lovely production and the singers gave glorious performances. Aleksandra Kurzak was superb as Matilde, and Juan Diego Flores gave a wonderful portrayal of Corradino. They were excellently backed up by Vesselina Kasarova as Edoardo, Enkelejda Shkosa as the Countess, Marco Vinco as Aliprando the doctor and advisor to Corradino, and Alfonso Antoniozzi in the buffo role of Isidoro the batty poet, who lives in a world of make believe but saves Matilda's life. The production by Mario Martone gave us everything we could wish, with no extraneous nonsense, and the sets by Sergio Tramonti, costumes by Ursula Patzak, and lighting by Pasquale Mari were wonderful. The use of two rotating staircases cleverly emphasized the tensions between the women, and between Corradino and his court. Carlo Rizzi conducted, bringing out the charm of Rossini's music, so reminiscent of his earlier work. This was the opening night of a new production, and the first performance at Covent Garden since two previous performances in 1854.

Salome in a live screening from the Metropolitan Opera in New York, 11^th October 2008. Karita Mattila gave an excellent performance of the title role, and Juha Uusitalo was superb as John the Baptist, drawing deep power from mysterious sources. Kim Begley was a fine Herod, urbane yet discomforted and lustful, and Ildiko Komlosi was a strong Herodias, proud and scornful. Joseph Kaiser sang Narraboth, but the cinematic techniques, particularly at the start of the performance, failed to show the full stage, and made it impossible to see him in context. It also made it difficult to judge J¸rgen Flimm's production. Certainly it was far better than the absurd staging I saw at Covent Garden in February, where the party guests stood around uselessly as Salome exceeded any sense of decency near the end; in this production by contrast they evidently turned and left, but we couldn't see this happen because of the obsession with close-ups of Salome, Herod and Herodias. It was as if one looked at the whole thing through opera glasses, missing the bigger picture, and while the costumes by Santo Loquasto were excellent, we could not fully see the sets that he also designed. Choreography by Doug Varone worked well and Karita Mattila did a good job of the dance and striptease. The conducting by Patrick Summers was powerful, and the accompaniment to John the Baptist, after he is brought up from the cistern, was riveting. One could only wish that one were in the opera house to see and hear this in its full glory.

La fanciulla del West at the Royal Opera, September 2008. This was a wonderfully natural and atmospheric production by Piero Faggioni, who also did the costumes and the lighting design. The sets by Kenneth Adam used the whole stage to great effect, with wonderful tableaux that could be seen in full from the Amphitheatre. If only other designers were capable of doing this, or at least if only the Royal Opera hired those who could. The whole thing was reminiscent of the wonderful Zeffirelli productions. Antonio Pappano conducted, producing a powerful sound from the orchestra, and the singers were excellent. Minnie was beautifully sung and portrayed by Eva-Maria Westbroek, whom I recall last year as a radiant Sieglinde, and Dick Johnson was strongly sung and naturally portrayed by JosÈ Cura. They were ably supported by Silvano Carroli as the sheriff, Eric Halfvarson as the Wells Fargo agent, and Bonaventura Bottone, Vuyani Mlinde and others in the solo parts. It was an evening to enjoy, without the irrelevant distractions so often foisted on us by directors who are trying to be too clever by half.

Cavalleria Rusticana at the English National Opera, September 2008. This was sung to an English translation by Sean O'Brien, in a cold production by Richard Jones with designs by Ultz (whoever he is). I hated the production, which set everything in the interior of what looked like an English village hall, with dark green doors and cheap folding chairs and tables. There was no church and no path to it; no outside and no light, though the music speaks of sunshine and warmth, despite the desperately nasty ending. Fortunately the conducting by Edward Gardner gave us the warmth, as did the magnificent singing by Peter Auty as Turiddu and Jane Dutton as Santuzza. Kathleen Wilkinson was a very cold Mama Lucia, and Roland Wood a rather thinly sung Alfio, whose wife Lola was attractively portrayed by Fiona Murphy. A very irritating aspect of this production was an absurd acting part for Turiddu's brother who was played as a mentally defective oaf, ambling around the stage. He was so dopey he couldn't even fold the chairs up properly at the end, getting the wrong end of several of them—was this intentional or was he really a bit out of it? At any rate his presence was a distraction that did nothing to help, and merely hindered the drama. It seems the dramatic team's efforts all went into the other opera of the evening, namely I Pagliacci.

I Pagliacci at the English National Opera, September 2008. Like Cavalleria Rusticana this was directed by Richard Jones, but instead of a translation we had an English adaptation of the text by Lee Hall, setting it in a northern English town, with Canio as a buffoon called Mr. Paxo, and Nedda as Mrs. Paxo. The stage drama put on by these clowns was played as an English farce in a hotel room. It worked well in its way, and I particularly liked the singing of Christopher Purves as Tonio, and Mark Stone as Silvio, who in this production was Woody the stage carpenter. Mary Plazas was a slightly over-ripe Nedda, Geraint Dodd an uncertain Canio, though his final scene came over strongly, and Christopher Turner was Beppe. The conducting by Edward Gardner did not give this opera the lyricism it needs in some scenes, but perhaps the conductor concentrated on Cavalleria Rusticana, while the directors concentrated on Pagliacci. Even so, they threw in some gratuitous nonsense with a stage manager between the scene change from the dressing room to the theatre, and an absurdly unnecessary and spurious curtain call for Cav at the beginning of Pag. Do they think this is funny? Does it add to the drama? These are dramatic operas for God's sake—why spoil them with unscripted absurdities?

La Calisto at the Royal Opera, September 2008. This opera, written in 1651/2 by the Venetian composer Francesco Cavalli (1602–76), has now had its first performance at the Royal Opera. The production by David Alden, with gloriously colourful set designs from Paul Steinberg, and equally colourful costumes by Buki Shiff, along with lighting by Pat Collins and choreography by Beate Vollack, was imported from Munich. The story is from Ovid's Metamorphoses. Calisto is a nymph devoted to Diana, who abjures sex with men but has a lesbian relationship with Jupiter disguised as Diana. His wife Juno is so jealous she turns Calisto into a bear, after whose death Jupiter transforms her into the constellation Ursa Major. Cavalli weaves this into a drama incorporating Diana's secret desire for Endymion, but where this might reveal subtleties about how sex brings a depth of philosophical insight, Alden's production gives us only the sex. Calisto was brilliantly sung and acted by Sally Matthews, with Umberto Chiummo as Jupiter and Veronique Gens as Juno. Diana was Monica Bacelli, and Endymion was Lawrence Zasso. Ivor Bolton conducted the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment.

Don Giovanni at the Royal Opera, September 2008. I found this disappointing in comparison with the magnificent performance last June that used the same staging but a different Don. This time we had Simon Keenlyside, who simply didn't have the sexiness and insouciance of Erwin Schrott from last year, and though we had the same Leporello and Donna Anna, namely Kyle Ketelsen and Marina Poplavskaya, I felt that Ketelsen could not fulfil his part against Keenlyside's rather lightweight Don. For the rest of the cast, Joyce DiDonato was a fine Donna Elvira, Ramon Vargas gave a beautifully sung Don Ottavio, Eric Halfvarson a strong Commendatore, and while Miah Persson seemed a rather charmless Zerlina, her fiancÈ Masetto was delightfully sung and portrayed by Robert Gleadow. Charles Mackerras conducted, bringing excellent precision, with suitable light and shade from the orchestra.

Kashchey the Deathless in concert at the Proms, September 2008. This one-act opera by Rimsky-Korsakov was coupled with Stravinsky's Firebird, a ballet on the same story, dealing with Kashchey and the princess he holds prisoner. In the ballet, as in the original story from Afanasyev's collection of Russian folktales, Kaschey's soul is protected inside an egg, but in Rimsky-Korsakov's opera it resides in the tear duct of his beautiful but icy-hearted daughter the Kashcheyevna. In scene 1 of the opera, the princess looks in the magic mirror and sees her beloved, Prince Ivan Korolevich with the Kashcheyevna. The evil Kashchey looks in too, and fearing the prince, drops the mirror, which breaks into pieces. He then sends the Storm Knight to his daughter to make sure she is keeping his soul safe, and in scene 2 we find her brewing a potion to make the Prince forget his princess. But she hesitates to kill him, and at this point the Storm Knight sweeps in, garbling the message given him by Kashchey, and as his wind scatters the Kashcheyevna's charms, the prince leaves to find his beloved. In scene 3 the princess is singing Kashchey to sleep with a lullaby when the Prince and the Storm Knight arrive. As the prince frees his beloved, the Kashcheyevna suddenly appears to attract him back, having fallen in love with him. But the princess has triumphed, and kisses the Kashcheyevna on the forehead, who then bursts into tears. This is the end for Kashchey who stomps off to die, and his daughter morphs into a weeping willow. Kashchey was Vyacheslav Voynarovsky, the princess Tatiana Monogarova, the prince Pavel Baransky, the Kashcheyevna Elena Manistina, and the Storm Knight Mikhail Petrenko. Vladimir Jurowski conducted the London Philharmonic and the BBC Singers, and did a superb job with both the opera and the Firebird, which seemed to me better than I have ever heard it.

Osud in concert at the Proms, August 2008. The title of this Jan·ček opera means destiny, and the story is about a composer named Živny, strongly sung by Štefan Margita, who has had an affair with a girl named Mila, charmingly portrayed by Amanda Roocroft. They meet again at a spa, and MÌla's mother, well sung by Rosalind Plowright, is horrified by their getting together again. Act II is four years later when they are married with a son, Doubek, a treble part beautifully sung by George Longworth. The act ends with the mother, now deranged, flinging herself off the balcony with her daughter. The last act is many years later when the composer is teaching at a music academy attended by his son. His autobiographical opera has no last act, and as the students question this, a thunderstorm erupts, hurling the composer to the ground. One student asks if this storm is the music for the last act, but the composer says the last act is in the hands of God, and his son leads him away. An autobiographical opera within an autobiographical opera, it has some dramatic music, but as a piece of theatre it would be unlikely to work, and is rarely staged. Other principal singers were, Aleš Briscein, Aleš Jenis who was particularly good, Owen Gilhooly, Ailish Tynan and Martina Bauerov·. JiřÌ Bělohl·vek conducted the BBC Singers and BBC Symphony Orchestra in a fine performance.

Love and Other Demons at Glyndebourne, August 2008. This new opera by Peter Eˆtvˆs, based on the novel of the same title by Gabriel GarcÌa M·rquez, is set in eighteenth century Columbia. It was commissioned by Glyndebourne, and designed for the Glyndebourne stage and audience, though I'm afraid the audience gave it a lukewarm reception. I liked it, and found the music melodious and befitting the magical realism of the story. The libretto by KornÈl Hamvai was mainly in English, with a sprinkling of Spanish, Latin and Yoruba. The Yoruba was for some African poetry recounted by the servant Dominga, a surrogate mother to the girl Sierva MarÌa, who lost her own mother before this opera started. Dominga gives the girl a necklace of magical beads on her twelfth birthday, after they all return from the market place where she was bitten by a rabid dog during a solar eclipse. She refuses to give up the necklace to her father, or to the nuns who forcibly rip it off her in the convent where she is consigned after appearing to be possessed.

Sierva MarÌa was wonderfully sung and performed by Allison Bell, whom I saw last summer as an endearing LakmÈ at Holland Park; she was replacing Marisol Montalvo who was ill and unable to complete the rehearsals. Nathan Gunn was Father Delaura, who is sent by the bishop to exorcise her demons but becomes lovingly obsessed by her; both he and Allison Bell were excellently cast. Felicity Palmer sang strongly as Josefa the abbess, and Jean Rigby was very good as Martina the batty ex-nun and slave of the convent. The doctor was well sung and sympathetically portrayed by John Graham-Hall, the African servant Dominga was Marietta Simpson, the girl's father—a broken man after the death of his wife—was well portrayed by Robert Brubaker, and the bishop was Mats Almgren, well supported by the tuba player in the orchestra. The orchestral instruments were distributed evenly on the right and left, creating a mixture of sound, which the composer devised to heighten the effect of magical realism. This was also helped by clever designs and lighting by Helmut Stuermer, with film footage on the backdrop, showing the dog, and the cutting of the girl's very long hair in the convent, as well as more surrealistic images. The director was Silviu Purcarete, and dramaturge Edward Kemp gave an interesting pre-performance talk on the opera. Excellent conducting from Vladimir Jurowski.

Iolanta at the Holland Park Opera, August 2008. This one-act Tchaikovsky opera is little known, though the composer regarded it as superior to Nutcracker, which he wrote at the same time. In this performance, excellently conducted by Stuart Stratford, the recognition scene where VaudÈmont realises that Iolanta is blind came over very strongly, suddenly giving a focus to this opera, and from there until the end it was a dramatic success. VaudÈmont was strongly sung by Peter Auty, with Irish soprano Orla Boylan as Iolanta, and Russian-American bass Mikhail Svetlov as her father King RenÈ. Mark Stone was Robert, Duke of Burgundy who is betrothed to Iolanta but in love with someone else. He is more than happy to give her up to VaudÈmont if her father agrees. Toby Stafford-Allen was the doctor Ibn-Hakia, who recommends the king reveal his daughter's blindness to her, so she acquires the desire for sight, and can be cured. All five of these principals sang strongly and worked well together. Seeing this opera staged for the first time I found it far more powerful than listening to a recording, and the story seemed to me a metaphor for the over-protection of women by men, particularly in parts of the world Ibn Hakia comes from. The director Annilese Miskimmon allowed a proper sense of claustrophobia to the walled garden with Nicky Shaw's designs. As usual the sets were very simple, but effective.

La Gioconda at the Holland Park Opera, July 2008. This Ponchielli opera is always a delight, and one only wishes it were done more often. Here we had a very strong Gioconda from Gweneth-Ann Jeffers, and an excellent Alvise from David Soar. His wife Laura was well sung by Yvonne Howard, and she and Gioconda worked well together. Enzo, who still adores Laura despite his relationship with Gioconda, was the scruffiest person on stage, but well sung by the Russian, Vadim Zaplechny. Gioconda's blind mother was excellently portrayed by Nuala Willis, but her voice was rough. And Barnaba, arguably the nastiest male character in all opera, was strongly sung and performed by Olafur Sigurdarson from Iceland, though his voice lacked a sharp edge. The production by Martin Lloyd-Evans, with designs by Jamie Vartan, was simple but effective, as befits Holland Park, and my main carp was the ineffective interaction between Gioconda and her mother. At the very first entrance it looked as if she was fed up with her mother, and it was almost as if the two ladies were not on speaking terms. The fault seemed to be on Gweneth-Ann Jeffers part, as she injected no joy into the part of 'the joyous one', and expressed little emotion. Good conducting by Peter Robinson. The peacocks kept quiet, but in the second half young Russians occupying the row in front had fun passing round messages on a mobile phone, until I took it away from them.

The Rake's Progress at the Royal Opera, July 2008. This Stravinsky opera, inspired by eight Hogarth paintings and with a libretto by W.H. Auden, is musically interesting and has a reasonably clear story line. But like most operas the staging needs to bring out the drama and this it failed to do. Robert Lepage's production carried no narrative drive, and made the conducting by Thomas AdËs seem sluggish. It might have helped to have two intervals — it is after all in three acts — because the production failed to maintain the pace as one scene and one act jumped to the next. It all appeared unnecessarily disjointed. As to the singers, John Relyea sang strongly as the Mephistophelean character Nick Shadow, but could have made a stronger impact on stage. Charles Castronovo sang well as Tom Rakewell, and Sally Matthews was a very convincing Anne Truelove. Darren Jeffery as her father was suitably conventional and Patricia Bardon as Baba the Turk was suitably batty. But none of these characters came over as strongly as they might have done under better direction. Perhaps Robert Lepage was simply out of his depth with this opera; clever and creative he may be, but this was a failure, I'm afraid.

L'incoronazione di Poppea at Glyndebourne, June 2008. This Monteverdi opera, written the same year the English civil war started, is about a sexy lady becoming Nero's queen. It got off to good start, with a sequined woman pushing her way along the front row of the audience, loudly complaining that a small nun is in her seat. Thus starts the prologue with Fortuna and Virtu, soon joined by Amore. With Danielle de Niese as Poppea, after her huge success last summer as Cleopatra, one awaits a ravishing evening. It never emerges. Nerone (Nero) was brilliantly sung and acted by Alice Coote, but there was not the least frisson of excitement between him and Poppea. Who is to blame? Was it the costumes of Constance Hoffman, which mix different modern periods, and put Poppea in tights and a slip dress with a zip up the back, worn mainly in bed, and called a negligee by some reviewers (but who wears a negligee with tights)? Was it the director Robert Carsen wishing to show Poppea as a cunning lady interested only in power? Or was it Danielle de Niese failing to interact with a Nero sung by a woman rather than a man. I don't know, but this production lacked sexuality, and considering that the director is quoted as saying it's all about sex, the failure is rather striking. Ottone, a cast-off lover of Poppea, was well performed by Christophe Dumaux, and Drusilla who adores him was delightfully sung by Marie Arnet and was far prettier and sexier than Poppea, in my opinion. Ottavia, Nero's wife was well sung by Tamara Mumford, Seneca was strongly performed by Paolo Battaglia, and Poppea's nurse was made suitably gross by Wolfgang Ablinger-Sperrhacke. Amore was sung by Amy Freston, who moved well—within the confines of this production—but perhaps this speaks to one of the main faults, namely that the movement was terribly unimaginative, and I do dislike seeing performers rolling around on the stage to express passion. It doesn't work. The sets by Michael Levine were non-existent, except that by the end we had seen enough red curtains and red velvet to last a year. Thank goodness for the excellent musical direction by Emmanuelle Haim and the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment.

Albert Herring at Glyndebourne, June 2008. This revival of Peter Hall's 1985 production, with superbly realistic designs by John Gunter and lighting by Keith Benson, was conducted by Gerard Korsten. It all worked superbly, with a well-balanced cast headed by opera newcomer Allan Clayton. He sang and acted Albert brilliantly, supported by Jared Holt as his friend Sid, Louise Poole as a charming Nancy, and Frances McCafferty as his domineering mother. The bigwigs were equally good, headed by Gwynne Geyer who did an excellent job of the indomitable Lady Billows, with Susan Gorton as her busybody assistant Florence. Alan Opie was Mr. Gedge the unctuous vicar, John Graham-Hall was Mr. Upfold the mayor, Brindley Sherratt a very strong Superintendent Budd, and Malin Christensson a rather pretty Miss Wordsworth the schoolteacher. Apparently Britten intended to write a sequel, and one wonders what happens to Albert later after he breaks free from his mother, but as a critique of small town mentality, pomposity and sexual repression, this opera works brilliantly, and does so on a tiny orchestra of 13 instruments.

Il Trovatore at the Holland Park Opera, June 2008. The conducting by Brad Cohen was a delight to witness as he showed such evident enthusiasm and connection with the singers, and the performance never flagged for a minute. Geoffrey Moses gave us a strong and clearly sung Ferrando, looking like an expatriate British officer, and Anne Mason gave us a powerfully sung Azucena, looking like an English rose, and not a day older than her son Manrico. He was well sung by Rafael Rojas, with Stephen Gadd as the Conte di Luna, and Katerina Jovanovic as a rather plump Leonora. John Lloyd Davis directed and designed this production in modern dress, and the Count's men appeared in balaclavas when they challenged Manrico and the gypsies. There was something rather too contrived about Ferrando's command of the men in balaclavas, but the production worked well, and with the peacocks contributing in the quiet passages, this rumpty-tumpty piece of Verdi made for a fine evening. The ending was a resounding success as the count shot Manrico before his mother's eyes before she can warn him whom he's about to kill.

Ariadne auf Naxos at the Royal Opera, June 2008. This wonderful opera was superbly conducted by Mark Elder, and the stars of the evening were Deborah Voigt as a calmly refined Ariadne, and Gillian Keith as a brilliantly sexy and vivacious Zerbinetta. The music master was well sung and performed by Thomas Allen, with Robert Dean Smith as the tenor, Kristin Jepson as the composer, and opera administrator Alexander Pereira as the Major Domo, replacing film actor Christoph Quest. This production by Christof Loy, with designs by Herbert Murauer, was good except that it portrayed the composer as a woman, making a nonsense of Zerbinetta's clever manipulation of him. Her intelligent sexiness appeals to his youth and inexperience, expressed both in his words and in the use of a female voice for the part (as in some other Strauss operas), but this is not the way she would appeal to a female composer in her forties, even though the action on stage suggests the composer is a lesbian. That said, the production was otherwise a success, with up to date costumes and excellent stage direction in Act I, though the tenor's one thumping line in the first Act, "Ist dieser reiche Herr besessen?!" was delivered too calmly for my liking, and I would have preferred a little more haughty indifference from the Major Domo. These quibbles aside, Act I was superb, and Act II ended as it should, in ethereal magnificence.

Powder Her Face at the Linbury Studio, in the Royal Opera House, June 2008. This early opera by Thomas AdËs, written in 1995 when he was just 24, is about Margaret, Duchess of Argyll, an aristocratic nymphomaniac whose high living devoured her substantial fortune, leading to the sale of her house and eventual eviction from her hotel. The Duchess was well sung by Joan Rodgers, ably assisted by Alan Ewing, Iain Paton, and Rebecca Bottone who was wonderful as the maid. Timothy Redmond conducted, and sets and costumes in this production by Carlos Wagner were apparently based on a production by the Flemish opera. The Duchess was a superficial woman, renowned for such sayings as "Go to bed early and often", and "Always a poodle, only a poodle! That, and three strands of pearls! Together they are absolutely the essential things of life". She was always an exuberant spender and dresser, with a succession of lovers, but her nymphomania was said to be due to a forty foot fall down a lift shaft during her first marriage. The number 'forty' is commonly used in the Bible to denote a large number, and this may be an exaggeration of Biblical proportions. Certainly her appetites seem to have been so, and she was very much in the press for her glamour and sexual peccadilloes; in fact her divorce from the Duke listed eighty-eight sexual partners known to him, including two government ministers and three royals. She must have been an attractive woman, but not shy about it, as she claimed she was the inspiration for Cole Porter's "You're the Top". What a pity that the essay in the programme told us nothing at all about her, but merely rambled on about Princess Diana, Hugh Grant and other celebrities — quite inappropriate.

Don Carlo at the Royal Opera, June 2008. This terrific new production by Nicholas Hytner, with marvellous designs by Bob Crowley, and brilliant musical direction by Antonio Pappano, made an evening to remember. The singers were well matched, and well suited to their parts: Simon Keenlyside as Rodrigo, Ferruccio Furlanetto as Philip II, and Eric Halfvarson as the Grand Inquisitor, were all very powerful, with Rolando Villazon as a vulnerable Don Carlos, Marina Poplavskaya as a pretty Elisabeth de Valois, Sonia Ganassi as an attractive, if lightweight Princess Eboli, and Robert Lloyd as the ghost of Charles the Fifth. There were many wonderful moments: Philip's soliloquy at the beginning of Act IV was outstanding, as was Rodrigo's death scene. This was a five act version rather than four, allowing a first act in which one understands why Carlos and Elisabeth are in love with one another, and how cruelly Philip takes her from her betrothed. The story is closely based on Schiller's play Don Carlos, which in turn is based on fictional nonsense that saw Carlos as a rationalist and crypto-protestant. In fact he was crackers, a man who forced his bootmaker to eat a pair of ill-made boots, and threw servants from windows. But Schiller was a rationalist who couldn't resist a story on the irrationality of reactionary Catholicism, empowered by Philip II along with the lethal Spanish Inquisition; nor could Verdi, and quite rightly one might say, since both the play and the opera are so powerful. As Verdi himself said, "Nothing in the drama is historical, but it contains a Shakespearean truth and profundity of characterizations". Carlos died young, as did Elisabeth, who was indeed distraught at his death, crying for two days, and the myth is only aided by their graves in the Escurial lying side by side.

Orlando at the Chicago Opera Theater, June 2008. This Handel opera, based on Ariosto's Orlando Furioso (The Madness of Roland), describes how the great Carolingian knight Roland is driven mad by his passion for Angelica, a princess from Asia who uses her beauty against the flower of Christian knighthood. She in turn falls in love with the wounded soldier Medoro, beloved by the country girl Dorinda, who has been caring for him. Angelica and Medoro abscond together, Orlando pursues them, leaves them for dead, goes mad, and later evinces a momentary passion for Dorinda. Running through the opera is a magus named Zoroastro who acts as a deus ex machina, reining in Orlando, reconnecting him with the lovers he thinks are dead, and curing his insanity.

The only character who appeared realistic was Dorinda, beautifully sung by Adriana Chuchman, and for me she was the star of the show. By comparison, Kate Mangiameli's harsh-voiced Angelica was unsuited to her role as a siren, but both these women were more powerful than the counter-tenors; David Trudgen did a good job of Medoro, but Tim Mead was a very thin Orlando, though I understand he was suffering from a cold. The modern absence of castrati means that counter-tenors must compete with the women's voices, and this didn't work well here; even the baritone Zoroastro, though well sung by Oliver Neal Medina, lacked the necessary stage presence. This may be partly due to Justin Way's production, which had the lovers literally rolling around on the stage, something I find remarkably unimaginative. Sets and costume designs by Andrew Hays and Kimm Kovac were set in the 1950s, and Dorinda looked far prettier in her country costume than Angelica in her twin set; Zoroastro's costume of raincoat and fedora, which changed later to a modern general's uniform, made him look like an agent of some tin-pot dictatorship, and although the fatigues of pink, grey and black for the supernumerary soldiers matched the all-over red of Orlando, they oddly suggested camouflage in a burning city. The sets were the walls of an elaborate military headquarters, split into huge sections moved around in complex choreography by the singers, which worked surprisingly well. Of course the music is the main thing with Handel, and the direction by Raymond Leppard who conducted from the harpsichord was excellent. Unfortunately Chicago Opera Theater can be a tad amateurish in their organisation; as the curtain went up for applause at the end a stage manager was seen scurrying off the stage, and then just as the cast was advancing to take another bow the curtain came down for the last time, after which there were no solo calls — an odd way to end.

A Flowering Tree by John Adams, at the Chicago Opera Theater, May 2008. The libretto by Peter Sellars is based on an old Tamil story, in which a girl finds she can turn herself into a flowering tree, enabling her and her sister to sell the blossoms and provide money for their poor mother. A young prince spies on the girl, and makes her his wife, but to consummate the union insists she demonstrate her magical ability. Eventually she does, and they make love happily lying on the blossoms she provides. Unfortunately the prince's jealous young sister spies on her, and while he is out hunting demands to see the transformation for herself and her friends. Unwilling, but feeling compelled, the girl obeys, warning that this is not a game, and must be done with due ritual. The young people fail to heed her, break her branches, and she is left as a tree stump half-way through her retransformation to human form. Thoroughly ashamed she crawls from palace to gutter, and joins a band of roving musicians as a singer. The prince has no idea why she has left and wanders the world bereft. Eventually both reach a town where the jealous sister is now queen and recognises her brother, helping bring him back to health. When he and the tree stump recognise one another, he completes the ritual of returning her to human form, and they are happily reunited. John Adams wrote this opera to celebrate the quarter-millennial anniversary of Mozart's birth, seeing similarities with the Magic Flute, where a prince eventually finds true love with a magical girl, daughter to the queen of the night.

The opera has three principal singers, the girl, the prince and the narrator. Other characters are mimed, and there is a chorus and a mime/dance troupe. The prince and girl were strongly sung by Noah Stewart and Natasha Jouhi, with Sanford Sylvan as a gentle narrator, sometimes overwhelmed by the orchestra. The music was beautifully atmospheric, though not stratospheric, and was ably conducted by Joana Carneiro (Adams himself did the first two performances). The mime and movement were very well done, but the modern dance choreography was unimaginative and performed rather raggedly. Director was Nicola Raab, with fine set and costume designs by George Souglides, excellent lighting by Aaron Black, and choreography by Renato Zanella. The first transformations, which she does with her sister, were entirely imaginary, but later ones showed the girl attached to an elaborate skein of ropes, as befits the fact that she is now trapped by her magical ability, rather than using it as a simple gift to help her mother.

Tosca at the Royal Opera, in dress rehearsal, 9^th May 2008. Two seasons ago this production by Jonathan Kent replaced the wonderful Zeffirelli production that had served the opera house for forty years. It seems to me to have a weaker impact, and some aspects of this performance felt too contrived, as for instance when the firing squad enters and its members continue marching on the spot after reaching their spikes on the stage; perhaps this will improve in the main run. Designs were by Paul Brown with dark lighting by Mark Henderson. But my main complaint was the uneven casting. The stars of this performance were Jonas Kaufman as Cavaradossi, with Antonio Pappano as conductor. Micaela Carosi as Tosca was entirely unfit to partner Kaufman. She lost her pitch on the sustained long notes and was hopeless at creating the pathos essential to this role. Where was the anguish in Vissi d'arte? Absent. In her unaccompanied duet with Cavardossi in Act III she was no match for him at all, and while he was entirely on pitch, she was off. But he was much more than on pitch—he expressed emotion, and his rip-roaring defiance in Act II after the torture has stopped was a feat of singing I have not seen before. In Act III he started off gently, as befits the hour before dawn, and far from being yet another fat tenor singing about the stars, here we had a slim man about to be executed, stirred by the unexpected appearance of Tosca, but showing in his voice and body language that he doesn't really believe Tosca's naive expectations of a mock execution. Emotion is the wind that drives this opera, and while our soprano gave none, the orchestra fully made up for it under the excellent direction of Pappano. As for Scarpia, Paolo Gavanelli sang with suitable menace, but as this production plays him as a scruffy beast, he lacked the gravitas I'm used to seeing.

Simon Boccanegra at the Royal Opera, 8^th May 2008. This fine production by Ian Judge, with sets by John Gunter, and glorious costumes by Deirdre Clancy, is a feast for the eyes. The lighting by Nigel Levings was suitably dark, fitting this sombre tale from fourteenth century Genoa, where the plebeian Boccanegra becomes Doge, despite being implacably opposed by the powerful Jacopo Fiesco, with whose daughter he is in love. Their child is put out for adoption, and later used as a substitute for another girl named Amelia who died young, but is the only heir to family fortunes after her brothers were exiled. Another plebeian named Paolo plays an insidious role, using Boccanegra to advance himself, and abducting Amelia when Boccanegra refuses to countenance their union. He poisons Boccanegra, whose slow death dominates the final scene. The costumes for Boccanegra and Amelia shine vividly through the haze of jealousy and envy. Her beautiful dresses reminded me of a girl in a voluminous red silk dress in Vermeer's painting A Lady and Two Gentlemen (in Braunschweig), and the scene where Boccanegra explains that she is his daughter became a thing of beauty with him in red and her in peacock blue. The performers were wonderful: Lucio Gallo sang a powerful Boccanegra, acting with all the gravitas the role demands, and Anja Harteros was a delightful Amelia, singing with a charming purity of tone. Ferruccio Furlanetto sang the nasty Jacopo Fiesco, stepping in at the last minute, as he was in town for rehearsals of Don Carlo, and did a superb job. These three were ably assisted by Marco Vratogna as Paolo, well portraying a shaven headed villain, though his voice lacked any villainy, and by Marcus Haddock as an ardent Adorno, the rebel whom Amelia loves, and who eventually comes over to Boccanegra's side. John Eliot Gardiner conducted with a clarity that gave the singers ample room for expressing themselves.

Mitridate, re di Ponto at the Theater Freiburg, Germany, opening night, 26^th April 2008. This early Mozart opera, on the conflict between power and love, is based on a tragedy by Racine. It has a cast of six: Mitridate, king of Pontus, his two sons Farnace and Sifare, his new fiancÈe Aspasia, Farnace's finacÈe Ismene, and a Roman ambassador Marzio, who is a friend of Farnace's. This production by Ludger Engels was performed in modern costumes designed by Gabriele Rupprecht, and set in a modern apartment designed by Christin Vahl. It overflowed with histrionics to the extent that the men and Aspasia behaved as if they were the same age as Mozart was when he wrote the opera, namely 14. They consumed masses of cake on stage, and Mitridate even sang with his mouth full, a feat I've never seen before. In my view these serious operas from the 18^th century benefit from a more restrained performance. The emotions are well expressed in the arias, which were beautifully sung by Bernard Richter as Mitridate, Martina Rueping as Aspasia, Jana Havranova as Ismene, Lini Gong as Sifare, and Sang He Kim as his younger brother Farnace, with Roberto Gionfriddo as the Roman, Marzio; I thought Richter, Rueping and Gong sang particularly well. Johannes Knapp conducted, and though I have not heard this opera before, the music was gorgeous, and reminiscent of Handel.

Double bill: Gianni Schicchi by Puccini, and I Pagliacci by Leoncavallo, in Brno, Czech Republic, 18^th April 2008. The director for both, was Ondr`ej Havelka, with scenery by Martin C`erny and costumes by Michaela Hor`ejs`Ì. Conducting was by Jaroslav Kyzlink. This was a rather odd production in the sense that it started with the introduction to Pagliacci, merging into Gianni Schicchi, which was portrayed as the first opera being put on by a travelling theatre company, and after the interval the performers then put on Pagliacci. This was the main item and it was well-performed, though I cannot say the same for Gianni Schicchi, which was played as a slapstick comedy in clown costumes. Moreover the musical direction of G S was very ragged, the brass was too loud, and I strongly suspected the orchestra had spent most of the rehearsal time on Pagliacci. Jir`i Sulz`enko sang both Gianni Schicchi and Tonio, but had insufficient stage presence for either role, and the designer's carrot nose for Schicchi was absurd—Schicchi is clever, not a clown. Pavla Vykopalova was both Schicchi's daughter Lauretta, and Nedda in Pagliacci, singing both roles delightfully. Raul Iriarte was both Lauretta's swain Rinuccio, and Beppe in Pagliacci, and sang both with distinction. He was by far the strongest character in Pagliacci, and his stage presence was as strong as Suz`enko's was weak.

The Minotaur at the Royal Opera, 15^th April 2008, world premiere, and on 3^rd May, the last night. This new opera by Harrison Birtwistle was produced by Stephen Langridge, with designs by Alison Chitty, and lighting by Paul Pyant. The design for the minotaur himself was wonderful, showing him as both bull and man, depending on the lighting, which was excellent; however when seen from the Amphitheatre for the second time, the effect did not work nearly so well. John Tomlinson played the minotaur superbly, both in his singing and his body language, creating a real sympathy for this trapped man/beast. In fact, Birtwistle said his admiration for Tomlinson was the key to writing this opera, which had been brewing in his mind for many years. The libretto by David Harsent portrays the minotaur, Asterios, as a likely half-brother to Theseus, who slays him, as well as being half-brother to Ariadne. She was beautifully sung by Christine Rice, opening the opera by singing of the ship from Athens that will bring the innocents to the Labyrinth, where they are killed by the minotaur and devoured by the Keres. But Theseus, strongly sung by Johan Reuter, has accompanied them so as to stop this blood sacrifice. Ariadne sees in him her chance to escape from the island (the fact that he will later abandon her on Naxos is another story), and she tricks him into leaving the innocents to their fate. She also explains he will never find his way out, once he has entered the Labyrinth. The first part ends with the death of the victims. In the second part, Ariadne consults the oracle at Psychro, a snake priestess, looking exactly like the famous statuette at Knossos from the seventeenth century BC. The priestess was sung by counter-tenor Andrew Watts, with Philip Langridge as her priest Hiereus. He gives her the ball of twine to help Theseus escape (in other versions she gets it from Daedalus, the designer of the Labyrinth). Theseus promises to take her off the island with him, enters the Labyrinth, and kills the minotaur. The opera ends with the scream of the Ker, sung by Amanda Echalaz.

The music was excellently conducted by Antonio Pappano, and the production was a great success. The use of mirrors was very clever; the minotaur sees other people, Theseus and Ariadne, accompanying him in the mirror at various points. If we think of the Labyrinth as formed by a combination of mirrors, it acquires enormous symmetry, making it extremely difficult to get out of. Indeed if the symmetry is infinite (and one needs only two parallel mirrors to create such symmetry) then the chances of escape are mathematically zero. The music is carried along a single melodic line, unlike the many different leitmotifs that carry a Wagner opera, and this helps unify the two aspects of the minotaur, as well as being a metaphor for the thread that leads out of the Labyrinth. The two sides of the minotaur are also part of Harsent's libretto, as for example, "When I go to sleep does the man sleep first, when I awake does the beast wake first?" This duality is inherent to us all, to the gods we worship, and the religions that embrace them. The theme is timeless, and this opera will stand as one of Birtwistle's most enduring achievements.

Tristan und Isolde in a live screening from the Metropolitan Opera in New York, 22^nd March 2008. Congratulations to the Met; this was the best filming of an opera so far. The production by Dieter Dorn, with sets and costumes by Juergen Rose and lighting by Max Keller, was cleverly filmed by Barbara Willis Sweete. She avoided the horrible close-ups of previous Met Opera cinematography, showing inserts of the main characters on the periphery while keeping a view of the whole stage. By increasing and decreasing the size of the screen for the whole set, particularly in the Liebestod, and by moving the inserts around, she created something that retained our attention, while taking nothing from our concentration on the music, superbly conducted by James Levine. Isolde was beautifully sung by Deborah Voigt, with Robert Dean Smith as a well-voiced Tristan. Ms.Voigt has had to sing with four different Tristans in this run, and in the interval she was asked whether she had been given much rehearsal time with any of them. Her response was that she'd had no rehearsals with any of them! But since she and Smith had sung together recently at the Lyric Opera in Die Frau ohne Schatten (see my review from November 2007 below) they had at least some rapport. Matti Salminen was a strong King Mark, slowly building up in his Act 2 monologue, and very forceful in Act 3, though I prefer a little more lyricism in these passages. Eike Wilm Schulte was very strong indeed as Kurwenal, and Stephen Gaertner was Melot. Michelle DeYoung was a fine Brangaene, interacting very well with Isolde in Act 1. This was a memorable performance, despite the Met's problems in finding replacements for Ben Heppner as Tristan.

The Barber of Seville at the Lyric Opera in Chicago, March 2008. The designs by John Conklin, for this production by John Copley, were deliberately based on Magritte, and there was a preponderance of blue sky and clouds for the backdrop, repeated at the end for the costumes of Almaviva and Rosina. There was also a brief scene of umbrellas in the rain, and costumes were by Michael Stennett. It worked well, but the ensemble singing was not always as good as one might wish. Nathan Gunn as Figaro was outstanding, and Joyce DiDonato was a charmingly convincing Rosina. Andrew Shore did a fine job of Dr. Bartolo, and John Osborn was a suitably young Count Almaviva, though his voice sounded a bit thin at times. I found Wayne Tigges a disappointing Don Basilio; this bass-baritone role should hold the stage against the higher pitch of the other voices, but here he merely appeared a bit of a clown, and the designer's very long nose for him was simply ridiculous—he is not Pinocchio. I have to say I did not like the two cases of bathroom humour, though the audience loved it when Figaro adjusted his pants after getting out of bed in his studio; the other item of 'humour' with Basilio was simply over the top. Would Copley try this on at Covent Garden—I think not. Donato Renzetti conducted.

Eugene Onegin at the Lyric Opera in Chicago, March 2008. This production by Robert Carsen, revived by Paula Suozzi, gives a sense of space to the monologues of individual characters, and the sets by Michael Levine, being vast walls, show the characters as small beings in a timeless drama of jealousy, betrayal and youthful folly. The costumes, also by Michael Levine, are in keeping with the drama, and Onegin's outfit gives him a smart and worldly appearance, which Mariusz Kwiecien carried off to great effect, his body language showing a subtle arrogance, but not too much to make Onegin a cad, which can sometimes happen. Dina Kuznetsova was a gently naive Tatyana, and Nino Surguladze a flippantly coquettish Olga, while Frank Lopardo was a serious and sincere Lensky, though he unfortunately had a slight cold. Prince Gremin's soliloquy on the value of love in Act 3 was wonderfully sung by Vitalij Kowaljow, and other monologues, such as Tatyana's letter scene in Act 1, were beautifully performed. The dancing at the party in Act 3 was effective, but slightly cramped, as it was originally designed for the stage at the Metropolitan opera in New York; a pair of professionals started things up, and the chorus followed on, all moving together—someone must have taken great care to rehearse this. Conducting by Andrew Davis showed great clarity, giving this opera an almost Mozartian feel.

Peter Grimes in a live screening from the Metropolitan Opera in New York, 15^th March 2008. This new production by John Doyle, with sets by Scott Pask and costumes by Ann Hould Ward, worked well. The sets were massive walls with doors opening at two different levels, showing the penned-in nature of society in The Borough, the venue for George Crabbe's poem on the nasty claustrophobia of a small town on the coast of England, and I loved the costumes. Anthony Dean Griffey did a marvellous job of the title role, which as he said in one of the intervals is the pinnacle of his career. He portrayed a rather nasty Grimes, at least to my mind, while Patricia Racette was almost too perfect as Ellen Orford. Jill Grove was the tavern keeper Auntie whose 'nieces' help service the clients, Anthony Michaels-Moore was Captain Balstrode, Teddy Tahu Rhodes a thoroughly engaging local doctor Ned Keene, and Felicity Palmer brilliantly awful as the busybody Mrs. Sedley. Donald Runnicles conducted. As with other Met broadcasts, the interval interviews, conducted this time by Natalie Dessay, were illuminating, with John Doyle explaining that he based the production of his hometown of Hastings, and Runnicles mentioning his hometown of Edinburgh being appropriately on the sea. Once again the Met went for a lot of close-ups, though at least the singers looked the part, but one misses a broader view of the whole stage, which is important here with the large chorus.

Salome at the Royal Opera, 22^nd February 2008. This was the opening night of David McVicar's new production, and the singers and orchestra under the direction of Phillipe Jordan did an outstanding job. It's a pity the production was so cold and unsuited to the Middle Eastern warmth and fractiousness of Richard Strauss's score and Oscar Wilde's play on which it's based. It is difficult for singers to give their best under such conditions, but Nadja Michael gave us a glorious Salome, and Michael Volle was a magnificent John the Baptist. These outstanding performances were enhanced by Robin Leggate as Herod, replacing Thomas Moser, Daniela Sindram as Herodias, and Joseph Kaiser as Narraboth the captain of the guard who is obsessed by Salome and kills himself early on. The enunciation of the text was wonderful — Nadja Michael sang with biting clarity, as did Robin Leggate, and Michael Volle was wonderfully strong and clear despite being compelled to spend most of his time rolling on the floor when above ground. Salome's dance involves her disappearing through a series of doors with Herod following, and a clever thing about this production was the killing of Salome by the executioner, a young body builder named Duncan Meadows who performs in the Covent Garden piazza. He had earlier stripped naked to go into the cistern to behead The Baptist, and came back covered with blood. He portrayed horror at Salome's performance with the severed head, and gave a sense of feeling increasingly outraged. When Herod commands her death he breaks her like a rag doll, a suitable reflection of her playing with a rag doll at the beginning of her dance. It's a pity the other supernumeries were made to stand like idiots in their party costumes during the scene with the head, while Herod, and even Herodias, turn away. What is more absurd was that no thought was given to making this work for the whole auditorium. In the Amphitheatre one could not see the backdrops, nor the diners upstairs. Setting it in modern dress does not work well, and the gratuitous female nudity in a shower room adjacent to the men's urinals at the beginning did nothing to assist the warmth and obsessiveness of the music. The bright lighting was equally absurd. Herod sings of the moon, for goodness sake — it's a moonlit night, yet the light from above was very intense. Why do directors do this to Salome? Do they think they can outdo Wilde and Strauss? What vanity!

Manon Lescaut in a live screening from the Metropolitan Opera in New York, 16^th February 2008. This was sadly miscast with Karita Mattila as Manon, and Marcello Giordani as Des Grieux. I have no problem with a 47 year old woman playing a teenage girl, but she has to act the part, and this Ms. Mattila failed to do, particularly in Act I. She and her lover showed no chemistry, no spontaneity, and a complete absence of joie de vivre. Moreover the Met's annoying habit of filming facial close-ups showed Ms. Mattila's expressions running the gamut from Y to Z, from unhappiness to abject misery. Her dancing in Act II was comically bad, but it's not supposed to be, and the money the Met spent on a dog and two horses would have been far better spent on a ballet mistress. Previous Met broadcasts have been far better chosen, and I'm not surprised my neighbours in the audience left after the first interval. Dale Travis as the wealthy Geronte was made to look far older than his years, and perhaps too old to have much interest left in the young Manon. But of course he had to look older than a couple of young lovers going on fifty. The ending in Louisiana was effective, but by that time our hero and heroine are supposed to look exhausted, poor things. Dwayne Croft as Manon's brother Lescaut appeared a similar age to Des Grieux, and the only character who looked and acted the part was the dark skinned Sean Panikkar as Edmondo the student in Act I; he sang wonderfully. James Levine conducted the score with sensitivity and emotion, but the Met needs to use principals who are not upstaged by a vibrant young chorus, where the women dressed as young men look far more animated than Des Grieux and Lescaut.

La Traviata at the Royal Opera, 17^th January 2008. The Albanian soprano Ermonela Jaho made her Royal Opera debut as Violetta, being flown in from New York to replace Anna Netrebko, who was indisposed with a bronchial problem. She did a wonderful job, and the audience were only stopped from expressing their full appreciation at the end by back stage philistines who put on the house lights to terminate the applause early. Her pleading with Alfredo's father in Act 2, and her final scene were beautifully done, and she evidently has a wonderful technique for singing softly. Jonas Kaufman as Alfredo sang beautifully, but lacked depth and passion. Dmitri Hvorostovsky sang Alfredo's father with a calm dignity, though his first encounter with Violetta in Act 2 seemed to lack that initial spark of outrage and anger on both sides. This production by Richard Eyre, revived by Patrick Young, works well, and I remember it from three years ago when Norah Ansellem sang a wonderful Violetta. The production seems to me to give Violetta the right stage setting in the party scenes, where she can otherwise by overshadowed by a dramatic Flora and host of guests. The huge mirror in Act 3, which allows party scenes to emerge from Violetta's memory as she lies dying, works well, and the designs by Bob Crowley with lighting by Jean Kalman, are effective. Conducting was by Maurizio Benini. For me the evening belonged to Ermonela Jaho, and I hope we see much more of her.

Macbeth in a live screening from the Metropolitan Opera in New York, 12^th January 2008. This production by Adrian Noble featured Maria Guleghina as Lady Macbeth, looking suitably manipulative and attractive in white lace and satin, and demonstrating a strong sexual relationship with Macbeth. She sang gloriously, and with éelijko Lucic as a vulnerable, yet assertive Macbeth, they formed an excellent pair. John Relyea as Banquo sang with distinction, and his stage presence was riveting. Dimitri Pittas as Macduff was a strong tenor, but failed to convince in the refugee aria of Act 4, despite shedding a well-staged tear. I liked the designs and costumes by Mark Thompson, though the make-up on the witches was too heavy for the close-ups, but this is a problem with filming what the audience see on stage. In my view the Met goes over the top on the close-ups; when I'm in the theatre I don't want to be using the opera glasses at every opportunity, otherwise I miss the bigger picture. James Levine conducted with his usual strong ability to bring singers and orchestra together, and with superb casting of the three main parts this was a memorable performance.

Parsifal at the Royal Opera, 21^st December 2007. This production by Klaus Michael Grueber was the same one I saw six years ago, and it works well in Acts I and III. The placing of the figures on the stage is well thought out, and helped by superb lighting from Konrad Lindenberg, and Vera Dobroschke-Lindenberg who also collaborated on the sets with Gilles Aillaud. For example the trio of Gurnemanz, Kundry and Parsifal in Act I was beautifully lit in three colours, and created a very strong impression. But the main stars of this show were John Tomlinson as Gurnemanz, who keeps the audience in rapt attention during those long monologues of Act I, and Bernard Haitink as the conductor, who also conducted the first version of this production in December 2001, before he retired as music director. He chose it for his reappearance at the Royal Opera House, and musically this was excellent, never flagging and never rushing. Petra Lang gave a sensitive performance of Kundry, and Act I came over very powerfully, with Christopher Ventris as Parsifal, Gwynne Howell as the voice of Titurel, and Falk Struckman as Amfortas, who sang convincingly despite being fitted with a massive prosthetic arm with a wheel on the end. Unfortunately Klingsor's magic realm in Act II does not work well in this production. The lighting was good, but that only goes so far. Willard White as Klingsor, clad in a dark red velvet dressing gown, appeared as an almost incidental character, and with opera ladies lying on the ground as flower maidens the seductiveness is lost; how can Parsifal possibly have any difficulty in their presence, apart from being careful not to trip over them? The spear never looks in danger of being thrown, and the flashes of light that make Klingsor vanish, and a new spear appear in Parsifal's hand, seem just what they are—part of an unimaginative stage trick. Act III came and went, musically uplifting, but without the staging to show the power of the grail or spear, and without Ventris as Parsifal seeming to grow into the part of the new king.

Romeo et Juliette in a live screening from the Metropolitan Opera in New York, 15^th December 2007. This terrific production by Guy Joosten, with sets by Johannes Leiacker was a delight. The costumes by Jorge Jara were wonderful, and Juliette, beautifully sung and acted by Anna Netrebko, looked delightful in her flowing robes. She was well matched by Roberto Alagna as Romeo, who managed to look well below his real age. Capulet was well sung, and finely portrayed with a conceited generosity, by Charles Taylor. The page, Stephano, was brilliantly sung by Isabel Leonard, who managed very well to portray him as an aggressively cheeky boy, and the cinema erupted with applause. Nathan Gunn was a very fine Mercutio, and the entire cast did a wonderful job: Robert Lloyd as a sympathetic Friar Lawrence, Marc Heller as Tybalt, Louis Otey as a middle-aged Paris, and Dean Patterson as the Duke. But the main applause has to go to Anna Netrebko and Roberto Alagna as the lovers, and Placido Domingo who conducted with verve and sensuality.

La Cenerentola in dress rehearsal at the Royal Opera, 14^th December 2007. This production by Moshe Leiser and Patrice Caurier, I saw nearly four years ago and thought it excellent. Rossini's take on Cinderella involves a pompous and gold-digging father who spends the dowry of his daughter Angelina, making her the slave of the house and the butt of her ill-humoured half-sisters Clorinda and Tisbe. She is saved from ignominy by the prince's tutor Alidoro who sets up meetings with the prince, and acts as fairy godmother. In this production the sisters are frivolously sexy girls, nasty but pretty. The father, Don Magnifico was finely sung by Alessandro Corbelli, who portrays a conceited inferiority without the buffoonery that can spoil it. Don Ramiro, the prince, was wonderfully sung and acted by Toby Spence, his voice lyrical and firm. These two, Corbelli and Spence, really made the opera, along with Lorenzo Regazzo as Alidoro, all supported with musical direction from Evelino PidÚ, who also conducted four years ago. Angelina was Magdalena Koûen·, who sang well but seemed to have been directed to look awkward when introduced at the party. Clorinda was Elena Xanthoudakis, Tisbe was Leah-Marian Jones, and Dandini the valet, with whom the prince swaps roles in order to estimate the value of the sisters, was StÈphane Degout. The sets by Christian Fenouillat and lighting by Christoph Forey complement one another well, and the costumes by Agostino Cavalca combine formality for the men with frivolity for the sexy sisters. My complaint concerns the direction, and I presume the original directors had not been around during rehearsals for this revival. The duet between Dandini and the father could have worked better, Angelina was unnecessarily awkward at the party, and there was just not enough joy and spirit to the whole thing. And there were cuts: no making up between Angelina and her family, and the sampling of drink by Don Magnifico at the party was omitted.

Die Frau ohne Schatten at the Lyric Opera, November 2007. This was a musical triumph, superbly conducted by Andrew Davis, with Deborah Voigt and Christine Brewer in wonderful form in the big soprano roles: the spirit-girl who has become empress yet lacks a shadow; and the dyer's wife who feels herself trapped in a marriage but later learns to need and love her husband. It has been absent from the Lyric for 23 years, but this new production by Scottish director and former dancer, Paul Curran puts it firmly back in the repertoire. The sets and costumes by Kevin Knight give an admirable contrast between the working world and the higher realms, and the lighting by David Jacques was excellent. There were two sets: one a wooden house and footbridge of East Asian style, the other a semi-circular wall enclosing a darkly lit space serving both as the spirit world and the emperor's palace. The costumes could almost have been from the British Raj, with the emperor resplendent as a maharaja, his wife in an elegant gown, the nurse as a British nanny, and the Dyer and his household as local workers.

Deborah Voigt, as the empress, gave an excellent performance, showing the gradual development of her character, and Christine Brewer sang gloriously, well expressing the strong emotions of the dyer's wife; it is only a pity she is so overweight, which spoils the effect. The nurse was Jill Grove, who did a fine job of this difficult part despite suffering from a cold. Robert Dean Smith sang strongly as the emperor, adopting a suitably detached presence; and Franz Hawlata gave a warmly sympathetic portrayal of Barak the dyer, the only character in this opera with a name, apart for the invisible spirit-god Keikobad, who neither appears nor sings. The choreographed movement with dancers and silks helped convey the ethereal air of the spirit world; and the young man conjured by the nurse from beneath the ground gave a suitably Mephistophelean air to her machinations. The upside-down umbrella carrying empress and nurse to the spirit world in Act III was a clever innovation making the pair of them look like children, and I have only two quibbles. The sword at the end of Act II comes from higher powers beyond the nurse's control, and should go straight to Barak's hand, rather than via the nurse. And at the very end, as white-clad figures appear, moving slowly with wondering faces, they keep pointing to things up above, which looks much too contrived. But these are minor blemishes. It was a memorable production.

Giulio Cesare at the Lyric Opera, Chicago, November 2007. This was cleverly played as a cabaret show and farce in David McVicar's production—the same one I saw at Glyndebourne in 2006—and it brings out Handel's showmanship with beautifully rehearsed movement and choreography. Danielle de Niese was Cleopatra, which she also performed at Glyndebourne, and her musicality, stage instinct, and flair for movement and humour are a delight to witness. The story is of Caesar arriving in Egypt, where his great rival Pompei has already landed. The king of Egypt, Ptolemy XIII has arrested Pompei and murdered him, and now proudly presents his severed head to Caesar, who is disgusted by such cruelty. Pompei's wife Cornelia, and son Sextus, appeal to Caesar for revenge, and in the end they are rewarded with his death, and Cleopatra is well rid of him in his triple role as her brother, spouse and king.

Julius Caesar was counter-tenor David Daniels, Cornelia was by Patricia Bardon, who gave a sensitive performance of this role, which she also played in the original McVicar production, and Sextus was finely portrayed by Maite Beaumont. Ptolemy's nasty sexually predative behaviour towards both Cleopatra and Cornelia was well displayed by Christophe Dumaux; and Cleopatra's servant and confidante Nirenus was played with a subtle mixture of verve and reserve by Gerald Thompson, and both he and Cleopatra did a superb job with the choreography. The sets by Robert Jones had gloriously colourful curtains, with a view of a rolling Mediterranean sea as background for much of the action. The fez-topped servants at the beginning and end, with their brooms and slow sweeping motions, helped set the scene, and the choreography by Andrew George was full of dazzle and sexuality. Brigitte Reiffenstuel's costumes gave Cleopatra a charmingly modern air, while the Romans were in late nineteenth century army dress with pith helmets, and in one scene Ptolemy's costume reflected a somewhat ambiguous sexuality. This production was easy on the eye, and the ear, with superb musical direction from Emmanuelle Haim, who also conducted it at Glyndebourne in 2006. In short it was a perfect synthesis of what a Handel opera should be.

Der Ring des Niebelungen at the Royal Opera, late October 2007. This production by Keith Warner was the culmination of previous performances of the individual operas over the past two or three years, with essentially the same cast. Sets were by Stefanos Lazaridis, with costume designs by Marie-Jeanne Lecca, and although the production contains some interesting ideas, I never felt it came together in a coherent design. Wotan was to have been Bryn Terfel in this ring cycle, but after pulling out he was replaced by John Tomlinson, who did a superb job. I recall seeing Terfel in Walk¸re two years ago, and he didn't have the presence for Wotan, so I was delighted with the cast change. After the final curtain of the final opera the full orchestra appeared on stage—a nice touch—and they and the conductor, Antonio Pappano received a huge ovation. Tomlinson also appeared, though he wasn't of course in the final opera, and the audience roared their applause.

Now to the four operas separately. The main characters of Das Rheingold appear later, except Franz-Joseph Selig who sang Fasolt with warmth and desire for the lovely Freia, before being killed by his brother Fafner, sung by Phillip Ens. In the second opera, Die Walk¸re, Siegmund was Placido Domingo, whose voice and acting left something to be desired, and a neighbour of mine even wondered whether he'd had any rehearsals, as his portrayal seemed so uncertain. Sieglinde was radiantly sung by Eva-Maria Westbroek, and when she burst in to Siegmund's rather colourless "Winterst¸rme" with "Du bist der Lenz, nach dem ich verlangte" the performance lifted instantly, and her final response to Br¸nnhilde, "O hehrestes Wunder! Heiligste Maid!" was equally powerful. Fricka was strongly performed by Rosalind Plowright, both in Rheingold and Walk¸re where her stage presence was magnificent; and when she appears at the back of the stage and sweeps in to defeat Wotan's plan for Br¸nnhilde to aid Siegmund, these three protagonists help create exactly the right atmosphere. After Wotan has entered to throw the fight to Hunding, sung by Stephen Milling, he impales him on the spear, which I found was overkill. It is enough that Wotan sweeps him away, for the man has not defied any treaty verified by the spear. In the third opera, Siegfried, Mime was Gerhard Siegel, and Siegfried was John Treleaven, who sang much better than I remembered him in Gˆtterd‰mmerung two years ago; this time he was a match for Lisa Gasteen's Br¸nnhilde. The dialogue between Mime and the Alberich of Peter Sidhom was very well done, and Mime's donning of an ass's head whenever he sang his real intentions to Siegfried was a nice touch.

In the final opera, Gˆtterd‰mmerung, Mihoko Fujimura was once again an outstanding Waltraute, strong, urgent, yet defeated by Br¸nnhilde's anger and intransigence. Gunther and Gutrune were well-performed by Peter Coleman-Wright and Emily Magee, who also sang Freia in Rheingold, he showing arrogant weakness, and her being a veritable seductress. Kurt Rydl took over as Hagen, a part Tomlinson would otherwise have sung, and did an excellent job, powerful and menacing. Peter Sidhom as Alberich again performed superbly, and in this final opera he appears in a little boat in the air, reminding me of the Mekon in Dan Dare from The Eagle. Did director Keith Warner also read The Eagle—I wonder? Siegfried's funeral march takes place off stage, but at least we seem to have avoided Siegfried walking the stage in a white suit, which happened in May last year. Oddly enough in this production the Rheinmaidens take the ring from Hagen, but I never saw how he managed to get it from Siegfried; and in the final scene I didn't much care for the multiple fires, finding them more appropriate for Don Giovanni than The Ring. Admittedly it's difficult to portray a woman riding into a funeral pyre, with the great river Rhein overflowing its banks, but I would have preferred a better substitute. Other productions have ended with a scene of great peacefulness, and I remember a Bayreuth performance that ended with the rainbow colours from Rheingold being merged into pure white light. But these are quibbles—it was a magnificent Ring.

La Traviata at the Lyric Opera, Chicago, October 2007. This production opened at the Lyric in 1993, and in the present revival Elizabeth Futral was a beautiful and engagingly frail heroine, with Joseph Calleja in wonderful voice as Alfredo. Ms. Futral's striking red dress in the Act I party scene helped her become the main character on stage, unlike the previous revival where June Anderson, in her predominantly black dress, seemed out of place and was completely upstaged by Flora. The Act I party scene is a place where many directors flounder, but here it worked well under the direction of Frank Corsaro. Joseph Calleja's voice is full and romantic, perfect for the part, and in a concert performance of Thais at the Royal Opera House in London this summer I was bowled over by his rich singing. Although he turned it out again here at the Lyric, his wooden acting was a disappointment. Mark Delavan, who sang Alfredo's father, was no match for Futral and Calleja, and lacked the gravitas one expects of this fatherly figure, but Philip Kraus was an excellent Baron Douphol, and Buffy Baggott as Flora did a fine job without trying to take over the stage, as sometimes happens. The matadors in the Act II party scene appeared with characteristic aplomb, but I wish the Lyric would use professionals for the two dancing couples who kept appearing. The opera gentlemen can't dance, and in that period some young men could dance as if inspired by Terpiscore herself. The designs by Desmond Heeley gave an affluent and cleverly louche feel to the party scenes, and his representation of Violetta's house in the country in Act II was well suited to her new direction in life. The sad circumstances of the final Act in Paris came over well, and Violetta's death during the February carnival was suitably affecting.

L'amore dei tre Re at the Holland Park Opera, 10 August 2007. This is a little known opera by Italo Montemezzi, and having seen it I understand why. The characters are a blind king, his daughter-in-law who is an ice queen, and two men who are passionately in love with her. The king kills her, covers her lips with a deadly poison to catch her lover, and both he, and her husband, the king's son, kiss the corpse and die. The music is dramatic and climactic throughout with no let up, and it's an excellent example of how not to write an opera. If you want an ice queen and a passionate lover, go to Turandot. If you want an unfaithful wife and a murdered lover, go to Il Tabarro. Puccini knocks this melodramatic stuff into a cocked hat. There are shades of Wagner and Debussy in the music, particularly the horns in Act 2, recalling the same Act of Tristan, and the music in Act 3 when the prince returns, recalling Kurwenal sighting Isolde's ship. As to the performance, the orchestra under Peter Robinson did a wonderful job, and the singers: Mikhail Svetlov as the blind king, Amanda Echalaz as the young woman, Julian Gavin as her lover, and Olafur Sigurdarson as her husband the prince, sang superbly, though the king was a little overpowered by the orchestra at the beginning.

The St. Matthew Passion at Glyndebourne, 4 August 2007. This production by Katie Mitchell simply didn't work. We are present at a school to share the grief of parents whose children have been murdered. The chorus of parents does not face the audience, and the impact of their grief is lost. The torture of Christ is done symbolically with salt and water, but lacks context, and Henry Waddington as Christ looks out of place and unusually well fed. We are so used to ascetic Italian renaissance models with beards that it is hard to see him as Christ in a staged production. Sarah Connolly was a strong Alto soloist, but the star of the evening was Mark Padmore as the Evangelist. He sang superbly and the orchestra played well under the direction of Richard Egarr.

La Traviata at the Holland Park Opera, 28 July 2007. This production by Elaine Kidd worked well, except in the difficult Act I party scene at the beginning where the party's hostess, Flora so often upstages Violetta. Here it was set in the roaring twenties, and Violetta's evening dress was out of keeping with, and outshone by, Flora's glamorous dress. Kate Ladner as Violetta flapped her arms uselessly to express her supposed emotions, though later in the opera she portrayed the role admirably, her duet with Alfredo's father being entirely convincing, as was her death scene. Her voice was powerful but I thought it lacked colour in the earlier part of the opera. Sean Ruane sang a strong Alfredo, portraying him as emotionally out of his depth, and the part of his father was brilliantly sung and acted by Robert Poulton. He turned the cold Germont PËre into a sympathetic character, which I found an appealing feature. The Act II party scene contained some interesting choreography by Sarah Fahie, between the matador and gypsy, but I was left a little uncertain whether it was supposed to be a party showpiece or a slice of real life. The designs by Giuseppe and Emma Belli were excellent, and the orchestra gave a strong performance under the baton of John Gibbons.

La Cenerentola at Glyndebourne, 26 July 2007. This wonderful opera by Rossini has a greedy, pompous old sot of a father, rather than a nasty stepmother, and he was brilliantly sung and acted by Allesandro Corbelli. It was the most memorable portrayal I've seen, admirably avoiding the gross buffoonery that sometimes endangers this role. He was amply aided by another buffo expert, Pietro Spagnoli as Dandini, the prince's valet, who swaps roles with the prince, enabling the young aristocrat to observe the sisters without attracting attention. The duet between father and valet, when Dandini reveals the deception, was a masterpiece of comic timing. Umberto Chiummo was an excellent Alidoro, the prince's tutor, who acts as a fairy godmother. Maxim Mironov was an engagingly callow prince, and Ruxandra Donose was a relatively colourless Cinderella. Neither she nor her sisters, sung by Raquela Sheeran and Lucia Cirillo, exhibited any sex appeal, but otherwise this Peter Hall production, revived by Lynne Hockney, was delightful, and the ensemble pieces were sung and choreographed in an appealing way. Vladimir Jurowski conducted the orchestra with verve and clarity, and the use of period instruments helped give Rossini's comic style full value.

LakmÈ at the Holland Park Opera, 15 July 2007. This opera by Delibes, set in India in the time of the British Raj, deals with a Hindu priestess who falls in love with a British officer named Gerald. Her father a Hindu high priest is determined to kill Gerald, but he survives the murder attempt, and she poisons herself, knowing he will leave her when his regiment moves on. With her dying breath she asks her father to spare him, and he rejoices that his daughter has gone to heaven. Altogether an unconvincing story, but the music is charming, and it was beautifully produced by Tom Hawkes, with good traditional designs by Peter Rice, suitable choreography for the temple dances by Jenny Weston, and well conducted by Noel Davies. Allison Bell sang endearingly as LakmÈ, giving a lovely rendition of the bell song. Her lover, Gerald was sung by Philip O'Brien, and her father the priest was Graeme Broadbent. The other British officer, Frederick was strongly sung by Grant Doyle, as was the priest's servant, Hadji sung by Robert Burt.

Rigoletto at the Royal Opera, 9 July 2007. This production by David McVicar starts with scenes of appalling dissolution and debauchery, but the music of Act I does not call for such treatment. It is full of melodious classical dances, and the action of the opera should only degenerate later. When you start with gross lechery you have nowhere to go. The Duke, sung by Wookyung Kim, had an outstandingly rich voice with immense strength in the upper register, but his acting was badly flawed. He appeared like a bouncy teenager, without the sensual power and desires that the opera demands. It worked much better with eyes closed. Franz Grundheber as Rigoletto gave a nuanced performance, his voice showing immense care and love for his daughter, while managing to exhibit his nasty streak at court, but he was a little underpowered. Not so Patrizia Ciofi as Gilda, whose voice showed beauty and strength, though her acting was a bit insipid, and her love for the silly Duke was unconvincing. Acts II and III were darkly lit, but I didn't much care for the dissolute sets. These Acts otherwise worked far better than Act I whose main attraction was its ending, with a superb and sustained diminuendo from Raymond Aceto who sang a suitably chilling Sparafucile. The orchestra played beautifully under Renato Palumbo.

Katya Kabanova at the Royal Opera, 3 July 2007. This dark and intense Janacek opera—the music lasts only about 100 minutes—deals with love, passion, jealousy, repression, and malevolent manipulation within the context of a nineteenth century village on the river Volga, based on a play by Ostrovsky called The Thunderstorm. The orchestra did a superb job under Charles Mackerras, now in his eighties, and the knowledgeable audience gave him tremendous applause — thank God that Covent Garden doesn't have to operate, like the Lyric in Chicago, on the sale of subscription tickets. Most people were there to see Mackerras work his magic on an opera that he introduced to London audiences at Sadler's Wells in 1951. In this 1994 production by Trevor Nunn, revised by Andrew Sinclair, Janice Watson was Katya, with Felicity Palmer as her nasty mother-in-law, the Kabanicha, and Liora Grodnikaite (replacing Linda TuvÂs) as Varvara, the foster daughter of this fearsome woman. All three did an excellent job, as did Kurt Streit and Toby Spence as Boris and Vanya, the lovers of Katya and Varvara. Chris Merritt was a fine Tichon, husband of a loving but frustrated Katya, his body language showing fatal weakness under the domination of the horrid Kabanicha.

ThaÔs in concert at the Royal Opera, 29 June 2007. RenÈe Fleming was glorious as ThaÔs, appearing in a magnificent red gown for Acts 1 and 2, and a sand-coloured one for Act 3 in the desert. Her golden singing matched the emotions she was expressing, both before and after her transformation. AthanaÎl sung by Simone Alberghini, replacing Thomas Hampson, was strikingly outshone by Joseph Calleja as Nicias, an old friend of AthanaÎl from their time in the monastery who has now embraced the pleasures of the city and become a lover of ThaÔs. AthanaÎl lacked the power and gravitas to draw ThaÔs away from her life of pleasure. Indeed, ThaÔs's first impression of AthanaÎl is that he is a man born for love and passion—someone who has taken a wrong turn in life—but when he finally succumbs to desire and sings that his flesh is on fire, the strangulated vowels fail his words. The only people exhibiting passion were ThaÔs and Nicias. The violin solo, which should have the searing power of describing the transformation of ThaÔs, was lamentable—all syrup and vibrato; also Robert Lloyd was disappointing as PalÈmon, the older monk who advises AthanaÎl to stay in the monastery. But the evening belonged to RenÈe Fleming, amply assisted by Joseph Calleja, and the orchestra, conducted by Andrew Davis.

The Love for Three Oranges at the Maryinsky Opera, St. Petersburg, 22 June 2007, conducted by Valery Gergiev. This intriguing production by Alain Malatrat started with members of the audience calling out, and creating a kerfuffle, upon which Valery Gergiev ran in from the back of the stalls and took up his position as conductor. Cast members then appeared from the stalls and climbed onto a stage that was extended around the orchestra pit. The effect was to get this surrealistic drama of to a good start, and emphasise the role of The Ridiculous People, who appear as a deus ex machina at appropriate moments. Alexei Tanovitsky sang the King of Clubs, with Daniil Shtoda as his son, the prince. Fata Morgana, who condemns the prince to fall in love with three oranges after he laughs at her, was Yekaterina Shimanovich; and Truffaldino, the jester who helps the prince in his quest for the three oranges, was Andrei Popov. The transformations of the oranges to princesses appear offstage, but some transformations are done on-stage under a billowing cover held and manipulated at the sides.

The Gambler at the Maryinsky Opera, St. Petersburg, 21 June 2007, conducted by Valery Gergiev. This was the opening night of a production directed by Temur Chkheidze, who as his name suggests is originally from Georgia. Vladimir Galuzin sang the role of Alexei, the man who gambles and wins, but loses the woman he loves, namely Polina, the General's step-daughter, sung by Tatiana Pavlovskaya. The whole cast did a fine job, and the conducting was excellent. The General was Sergei Alexashkin, and his lover, Blanche was Olga Savova. The Marquis, who is having an affair with Polina, was Oleg Balashov, and the old lady, who decides against leaving her money to the General and gambles it away instead, was beautifully played and sung by Larisa Diadkova. The set designs by Zinovy Margolin were spare but effective, in keeping with the coldness and scheming that appear in this Dostoyevsky story.

Nabucco at the Holland Park Opera, June 2007. A strong performance from Maria Pollicina as Abigaille, with fine singing from Paolo Pecchioli as Zaccaria, and a performance that gradually built in strength from David Wakeham as Nabucco. The orchestra was well conducted by Brad Cohen, and musically this was a stirring evening, barely disturbed by several screeching bird-calls from outside, and a brief rain storm. But the production was very disturbing, with Nabucco in a circus master's outfit, accompanied by clowns, and Abigaille appearing later with men in balaclavas. What is the point? Was the director, John Fulljames inspired by The Producers? But this is not a comic opera, and while there was a clear connection with Jews being sent to concentration camps, the balaclavas led to strangely mixed metaphors.

Death in Venice at the English National Opera, June 2007. A minimalist production of some power directed by Deborah Warner and conducted by Edward Gardner, with beautiful diction and singing from Ian Bostridge as a too-young Gustav von Aschenbach—he is 53 in the Thomas Mann novella. Bostridge showed a tautness and tension quite different from my memory of the 1973 performances by Peter Pears, but this production did not give him a sexual dimension. Moreover, the choreography for Tadzio, played by Benjamin Paul Griffiths, did not have the erotic allure that Ashton gave it in the original, and part of the point seemed to be lost. I was left wondering why this intelligent gentleman would stay trapped in Venice when he showed such concern at the reports of cholera. The multiple baritone parts were taken by Peter Coleman-Wright, who was a strong Hotel Manager but relatively insipid in some of his other roles, such as the elderly fop. Altogether this was a rather bloodless evening that didn't quite live up to the internal power of Britten's last opera.

Don Giovanni at the Royal Opera, June 2007. The star of this magnificent performance was undoubtedly Erwin Schrott, the brilliant new Uruguayan bass-baritone, in the title role. He acted the part with sardonic wit, insouciance and sex appeal, looked magnificent when stripped to the waist, and sang with an effortless power and lyricism as if he were merely talking. Kyle Ketelsen as Leporello was a superb foil to this great Don, and Marina Poplavskaya, replacing Anna Netrebko on the opening night performance, was an excellent Donna Anna. The remaining cast of Ana Maria Martinez as Donna Elvira, Michael Schade as Don Ottavio, Sarah Fox as Zerlina, Matthew Rose as Masetto, and Reinhard Hagen as The Commendatore, all did a fine job, as did the orchestra under the direction of Ivor Bolton. This production by Francesca Zambello works well, with heavily imposing scenery, an excellent dark red costume for the Don, and convincing dance and fight sequences in Act 1.

Jenufa at the Holland Park Opera, June 2007. This production by Olivia Fuchs was very well cast, and the performers used excellent body language to portray their emotions. Jenufa herself was Anne Sophie Duprels from Paris, äteva was Aldo Di Toro from Italy, Laca was Tom Randle, the Kostelnycka was Anne Mason, and the grandmother was Nuala Willis. Stuart Stratford conducted a fine performance that gradually built in intensity, and gave a clarity to the drama that rendered the surtitles almost superfluous, a good thing since we were on the left, and the surtitles on the right are partially blocked and very difficult to see. Why can't they fix this by having surtitles on both sides?

Cosi fan tutte at Glyndebourne, May 2007. This charming production by Nicholas Hytner, with designs by Vicki Mortimer and lighting by Paule Constable, gives a delicious setting for the story. The simplicity of the young women is overwhelmed by the overt sexuality of their lovers turned foreigners, and the elegant and simple set is bathed in summer light as soon as the action moves outside the living room. Suddenly Cosi becomes believable. The cast was excellently balanced: Pavol Breslik and StÈphane Degout were convincing as Ferrando and Gugliemo, with Alfonso Antoniozzi as a youngish Don Alfonso, assisted by the coolly manipulative Despina, charmingly played by Ainhoa Garmendia. Gillian Ramm stepped in to the part of Fiordiligi at the last minute and did an excellent job, along with Rinat Shaham as Dorabella. Robin Ticciati conducted, and the orchestra effortlessly balanced the singers, making this the finest Cosi I remember seeing.

Fidelio at the Royal Opera, May 2007. Beautifully conducted by Antonio Pappano, with the wonderful Karita Mattila as Leonora/Fidelio. Eric Halfvarson was an excellent prison warden, with Ailish Tynan as his daughter. Florestan was Andrik Wottrich, singing weakly, perhaps due to being imprisoned underground for several years! Excellently directed by Juergen Flimm, with fine set designs by Robert Israel, and perfect lighting by Duane Schuler.

Double bill: L'heure espagnol by Ravel, and Gianni Schicchi by Puccini at the Royal Opera, March 2007. The Ravel work is musically sophisticated but dramatically dull (unless you get a lot of mileage from humans versus clocks), and theatrically tedious, though the sets and costumes were delightful, and the performers did well. Christine Rice was a fine Concepcion, with Christopher Maltman as her lover-in-waiting Ramiro, and Andrew Shore and Yann Beuron as her other unsuccessful lovers, the lecherous banker and goofy poet. Ravel is a fine composer but the weak libretto spoils the work, unlike his second opera (L'enfant et les sortilËges), a far stronger work with a libretto by Colette.

Gianni Schicchi by contrast is a glorious creation with a story based on a brief excerpt from Dante's Inferno, and Puccini's theatricality shines through the music from beginning to end. Bryn Terfel as the eponymous character gave a beautifully nuanced performance, and the supporting cast was excellent, as was Antonio Pappano's conducting. The director for both operas was Richard Jones, with sets by John Macfarlane, and costumes by Nicky Gillibrand.

The Tempest at the Royal Opera, March 2007. This opera by Thomas AdËs, based on Shakespeare's play of the same name was just as good as I remembered it from the first production in 2004. Simon Keenlyside was a wonderful Prospero, with Kate Royal as his daughter Miranda, and Toby Spence as a very convincing Ferdinand, who swims ashore by his own efforts and falls in love with her. Cyndia Snieden was terrific in the high coloratura part of Ariel, Ian Bostridge was a convincing Caliban, and Philip Langridge a sympathetically portrayed King of Naples. The production by Tom Cairns, with set designs by Cairns and Moritz Junge, and magical lighting by Wolfgang Gˆbbel works well. AdËs conducted his own music and it was wonderful. This very original composer is still only 32.

Dialogues des CarmÈlites at the Lyric Opera, Chicago, February 2007. This was its first performance at the Lyric, fifty years after the opening of this opera at La Scala. The production -- originally by Robert Carson -- was imported from the Netherlands Opera. The action is based on real events during the reign of terror in 1792, when an entire convent of Carmelite nuns was condemned to the guillotine. It was beautifully conducted by Andrew Davis, with Felicity Palmer giving a compelling portrayal of the first prioress, who suffers an agonising illness and death in Act I. For the rest of the cast: Isabel Bayrakdarian sang Blanche, the young aristocrat who joins the convent shortly before the Revolution, Anna Christy was her fellow novice, the ever cheerful Sister Constance, Patricia Racette sang the second Prioress, leading her flock through their final tumultuous days, and Jane Irwin was Mother Marie, who urges the nuns to a vow of martyrdom, yet remains the sole survivor. Powerful stuff, but the staging of the finale, where the nuns dropped their arms and then slowly fell to the floor was out of time with the guillotine strokes; this was the dress rehearsal, so I hope they managed to do this to musical cues in the actual performances.

La Fille du Regiment at the Royal Opera, January 2007. This wonderful new production by Laurent Pelly, who also did the costume designs, was an unabated pleasure from beginning to end. Juan Diego FlÛrez was outstanding as Tonio, receiving a huge and sustained ovation after his big aria in Act I. Natalie Dessay was uniformly excellent as Marie, and the two of them made it work brilliantly. Felicity Palmer was the Marquise of Berkenfeld, Alessandro Corbelli the sergeant of the regiment, and Dawn French had the speaking part of the Duchess. All of them carried off their parts with the wit that this delightful opera demands. Dialogue was in French, except that the Duchess sometimes burst into English, with a French translation in the surtitles! This was an amusing touch, much liked by the audience. Conducting was by Bruno Campanella.

Carmen at the Royal Opera in January 2007. This was a new production by Francesca Zambello, and I didn't like it at all. They had plenty of extras as smugglers, but the fight sequences were no good, and if you do Carmen you absolutely must use ballet dancers among the cigarette girls and the gypsies. They had none, and the dance at Lillas Pastia's was ridiculous; opera ladies in their forties playing girls in their teens and twenties simply doesn't work — it never has and it never will. Anna Caterina Antonacci was a very dull Carmen, more like a coarse washerwoman than a sexy gypsy. During Escamillo's aria in the gypsy camp she looked as if she was thinking about next day's washing. And as for attracting a man who has previously shown no interest in you, by opening your legs towards his face and pulling your skirts up, well really! Francesca Zambello simply doesn't get it. On the good side, Antonio Pappano did a great job of conducting, Jonas Kaufman was terrific as Don JosÈ, and Norah Amsellem was a good Micaela.

Il Trovatore at the Lyric Opera in Chicago in a new production by David McVicar, November 2006. It was excellent—a powerful production. Sondra Radvanovsky was a brilliant Leonora, and Azucena and Manrico were well sung by Dolora Zajick and Vincenzo La Scola. The Count di Luna, sung by Mark Delavan, was not so good, but Bruno Bartoletti did a fine job with the orchestra.

Salome at the Lyric opera in Chicago in a new production by Francesca Zambello, October 2006. The star of the show was Deborah Voigt who gave an outstanding performance of the main role. The supporting cast of Alan Held as Jochanaan, Kim Begley as Herod and Judith Forst as Herodias all did a fine job. Conducting was by Andrew Davis. Good production, but the lighting was far too bright much of the time. It's supposed to be a moonlit might, not a sunny day.

Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk in a concert performance at the Proms in August 2006. An outstanding performance conducted by Valery Gergiev. Larissa Gogolevskaya as Katerina did a wonderful job, and so did the whole cast. The chorus and orchestra of the Maryinsky Theatre were terrific, and in this concert performance one could enjoy seeing the percussionists play—they have so much to do in this piece.

Giulio Cesare at Glyndebourne in August 2006. I'm not a Handel fan but this was terrific. It was delightfully performed as an eighteenth century musical and I think the director David McVicar has done a wonderful job. The sets by Robert Jones had strikingly colourful curtains, and the costumes by Brigitte Reifenstuel placed the Romans in Crimean War type uniforms, and gave Cleopatra a gorgeous appearance. She was delightfully performed and sung by Danielle de Niese, who showed a musicality and flair for the stage that amply rewarded Andrew George's witty choreography. Her servant and confidante Nirenus was very well performed by Rachid ben Abdesalam. Julius Caesar was David Daniels, with Sara Mingardo and Katerina Karneus as the widow and son of Pompei. Tomolmeo was Lawrence Zazzo, and his general Achillas was Nathan Berg.

Pique Dame at the Holland Park Opera in July 2006. This was very well done and the replacement tenor, Viktor Lutsyuk from Ukraine gave a terrific performance as Hermann. Unfortunately in the card game, Prince Yeletsky stood aside, and the challenge lost its stage presence. Pity.

Die Fledermaus at Glyndebourne in July 2006. This production, in English with the dialogue suitably updated, was wonderful, and very funny. Vladimir Jurowski conducted superbly, and I may never hear the music performed better. The production was suitably light-hearted, and at one point the conductor ostentatiously stopped conducting and let the orchestra play while he read a score (of Prokofiev's piano concerto, apparently!). There was a Viennese festival atmosphere (it was the last night of Fledermaus) and the evening ended with the Radetzky March, like a New Year's concert from Vienna.

The Makropulos Case by the English National Opera in May 2006; conducted by Charles Mackerras, doyen of Janacek conductors. As soon as the first bars came from the orchestra I was enchanted by the performance, which was being recorded for later release on compact disc. The main character, Emilia Marty was sung excellently by Cheryl Barker.

Bluebeard's Castle at the Royal Opera in May 2006. This opera by Bela Bartok was conducted by Kirill Petrenko, with singers Albert Dohmen and Petra Lang. Powerfully presented, with huge doors and a dank and dark castle.

Cyrano de Bergerac at the Royal Opera in May 2006. This is perhaps the weakest opera I've ever come across. Sets and costumes were good, and the director Francesca Zambello did a good job, but it was all put on because Domingo wanted it. He was Cyrano, with Sandra Radvanovsky as Roxane, and Raymond Very as Christian. Mark Elder conducted. Right from the start this seemed to me to compare unfavourably with many musicals from the first half of the twentieth century, and indeed it was composed in 1936 by one, Franco Alfano, a suitably forgotten musician. The female character, Roxane is a poor role, a woman who is insensitive, hopelessly self-indulgent, and dim.

Gˆtterd‰mmerung at the Royal Opera in May 2006. John Tomlinson was excellent as Hagen, with great stage presence, but the star of the show was Mihoko Fujimura as Waltraute. Her voice and stage presence were both outstanding, and she received sustained and well-earned applause at the end. Lisa Gasteen as Br¸nnhilde sang brightly, but John Treleaven as Siegfried was no good either in terms of voice or stage presence. And during the Siegfried funeral march, this production had him walking slowly to the back of the stage dressed in his white suit. Ridiculous. Antonio Pappano did a fine job with the orchestra, so if you closed your eyes it was fine.