Don Giovanni, SOH - July 3, 2008

Don Giovanni

Peter McCallum, reviewer
July 3, 2008

Gabor Bretz is the latest singer to play the love-rat Don in Elke Neidhardt's edgy new production.

Playing opera's bad boy ... Gabor Bretz.
Photo: Marco Del Grande

THERE is a 19th-century tradition of interpreting Don Giovanni in the manner of Faust, where his desire for transcendence gets a little out of control. Elke Neidhardt's production gets away from the "male problem" - the Don begins as thoughtless and becomes progressively odious, until, rather than being dragged down to hell, he creates his own drug-induced one. She refocuses on the three female victims, making each an active rather than passive agent in their involvement with him, bringing interest and credibility to their motivations.

Instead of being a remote psycho-drama of the subconscious, the production becomes increasingly disturbing, because we all know people who display the pathological behaviour revealed here. It is a theatrically vivid and thought-provoking new reading and, as the mixture of cheers and boos at the end displayed, places the work once again at the uncomfortable edge between reassurance and disturbance. This is set up at the opening where Donna Anna appears as a far from reluctant participant in her own seduction, while the death of her father, the Commendatore, is an accidental result of criminally careless insolent treatment from Giovanni.

The subsequent behaviour of Donna Anna, a proudly statuesque Rachelle Durkin, is motivated by desire, guilt and revenge. Durkin's vocal projection and reliable agility is impressive: though there was room for variety of tone in Act I, her Act II aria, Crudele?, was wonderfully poised and polished.

Catherine Carby's Donna Elvira was the work's most interesting character in her comic, self-humiliating obsession with Giovanni, and she rose to the challenge with humour and poignancy. Her beautifully phrased and coloured Act II aria, Mi trada, was a musico-dramatic turning. Notwithstanding the psychological focus on the women, the two male leads, Joshua Bloom's Leporello, and Gabor Bretz's Giovanni, were superb and carried the show.

Bloom, as strong a Leporello as I have heard in an Opera Australia production, sang magnificently, while Bretz captured haughty power in his voice and demeanour, and mapped the evolution from thoughtlessness to psychosis with true mastery. Amy Wilkinson was a charmingly fallible Zerlina, against Richard Anderson's persuasive Masetto, while Henry Choo's smoothly lyrical tenor sound as Don Ottavio fitted the renewed interest that Neidhardt brought to what is traditionally one of the most boring relationships in all of opera.

The conductor, Mikhail Agrest, had a fine feel for telling tempos at crucial moments and brought sophisticated shape to phrases although the stage-pit co-ordination was not always perfect. Jud Arthur sang the Commendatore with impressive implacability, though with most of his involvement occurring offstage it almost wasn't worth his while putting on a suit for the evening.

The design, by Michael Scott-Mitchell, Jennie Tate, Julie Lynch and Nick Schlieper, was dark and angular, unified by diagonals and strong contrast as though to hint at fate's sinister and inhuman side.

Arabella, Mar 10, 2008

Arabella

Peter McCallum, reviewer
March 10, 2008

A triumph of Viennese seduction.

Strength and warmth ... Peter Coleman-Wright and Cheryl Barker.
Photo: Marco Del Grande

Richard Strauss's Viennese comedy Arabella was first performed in 1933, the same year the new Nazi Government appointed him president of the Reichsmusikkammer (Reich Chamber of Music) without consulting him. It seems the perfect subject for the quip by the Viennese satirist Karl Kraus: "In Berlin the situation is serious but not yet desperate; in Vienna it is desperate but not yet serious."

Strauss had already perfected (in Der Rosenkavalier and elsewhere) the brilliantly volatile, energised style in which the music never stands still, like someone working the room at a rather hysterical party.

Richard Hickox and the Opera and Ballet Orchestra propelled this in Act I with a mix of flexibility and forward movement, and it was quickly clear that the whole package of this new production - cast, design (Robert Perdziola) and direction, both musical (Hickox) and theatrical (John Cox) - is a triumph of seduction, coaxing you to enjoy gorgeous sounds and images, even against your better judgment.

Wherefore this restless impulse to keep changing the musical subject? Theodor Adorno suggested Strauss embraced psychological flux because the system of musical keys (what we call tonality) had lost its power to shape musical form, but it is hard not to also see in the distinctive mix of satire and idealism of the librettist Hugo von Hofmannsthal a more psychological explanation, as theatrical archetype, stock-type and fairytale collide.

There is degeneracy and post-Freudian hysteria, represented in the emblematically dysfunctional aristocratic family in which the second daughter, Zdenka, is dressed as a boy to save money, and regeneration in the form of Goethe's redeeming pure woman, das Ewigweibliche, always on hand to mop up the mess men make.

Strauss, the master artificer, does not try to convince us he believes all this. It is an opera about the emotions people think they are supposed to feel when in love: for each facsimile of a noble feeling, Strauss provides a brilliant facsimile of noble music.

Cheryl Barker is superb in the title role, particularly in the third act when her voice had found its pitch focus and strength all wrapped in the warmth of colour. Emma Matthews (Zdenka) is a different vocal type, appealing for its clarity rather than reverberance. Although not a sound traditionally associated with the luxuriance of Strauss, the combination had its own charm in the Act I duet, like matching silk with velvet.

As redeeming women, both have their work cut out. Arabella gets a boorish jealous Croatian, Mandryka, whose redeeming feature is the capacity to look sheepish, and Peter Coleman-Wright had forceful focus, though the role does not emphasise the best parts of his range.

Zdenka gets a self-absorbed army officer who does not even notice when he is inadvertently making love to his beloved's sister: Richard Roberts was passionate in the first act. though after the suggestive Act III overture his voice showed signs of post-coital fatigue.

Conal Coad does a fine character role as Count Waldner, and Milijana Nikolic is strong as Countess Adelaide.

The unsuccessful suitors, Kanen Breen, David Thelander and Barry Ryan, made strong foils for Barker in Act II. Lorina Gore's Fiakermilli was agile but shrill, while Jacqueline Dark's fortune teller conjured apt colours at the opening.

Arabella, Mar 10, 2008 - AS

Written by Eliza Eggler

Monday, 10 March 2008

Arabella, the eponymous heroine of Richard Strauss’s comic opera is looking for love. She is a poor little rich girl seeking a ‘master’ to whom she will be ‘as obedient as a child’ and a firm believer in the notion of ‘Mr. Right’. Her parents alas have other plans for her, namely that she be sold to the highest bidder in order to rescue the families floundering fortunes by means of a profitable marriage. Count Waldner, Arabella’s gambling father who is responsible for their financial demise, sends a picture of Arabella to a decrepit old army friend in the hope of snaring a wealthy husband for his maiden daughter. Fortunately for our heroine the old goat has long gone and the picture ends up in the hands of his wealthy young nephew Mandryka. This ‘prince charming’ character, having been attacked by an over enthusiastic bear and unable to get out of bed for three months, spends the entire time dreaming about the girl in the picture before heading off to Vienna to claim her as his bride. Arabella is very much a story of fantasy versus reality and Opera Australia’s production of this lesser known Strauss masterpiece has done a good job at presenting these themes. Act one opens with Arabella’s mother (Milijana Nikolic) bemoaning the family’s imminent bankruptcy and Arabella’s sister Zdenka (Emma Mathews) who has been dressed as a boy since childhood to avoid the cost of two marriages, urging Arabella (Cheryl Barker) to accept Matteo (Richard Roberts), a young officer, in marriage. All of the singing in these opening scenes is extremely good, as is the acting which brings out the humour of the plot. Miss Barker is a confident and poised Arabella and sings with a beautiful warm voice and wonderful legato line. She is easily heard above the orchestra thanks to sensitive leadership from conductor Richard Hickox and her intonation and diction are outstanding. Emma Matthews, who is a very good actress, sings with her usual creamy tone and is thoroughly convincing in this pants role; if it weren’t for the beautiful soprano voice you could be forgiven for thinking Zdenka is in fact male. Count Waldner (Conal Coad) portrays a humorous character who is more interested in gambling than most things in life and his solid bass voice and acting add to the overall success and humour of the first act. With the arrival of the handsome Mandryka (Peter Coleman-Wright), who comes to ask for Arabella’s hand in marriage, the audience has the pleasure of hearing a mighty and beautiful voice and it’s no wonder Arabella falls head over heels when they finally meet in the second act! Waldner consents immediately to the marriage and by accepting money from Mandryka makes the connection between matrimony and cash all too obvious. Act two sees the first meeting between Arabella and Mandryka at the Cabbies’ Ball and they fall instantly in love. Whilst the speed at which this happens is troubling, the wonderful music and singing more than make up for problems inherent in the plot. The stage design is simple and attractive and the small chorus comes and goes without detracting from the focus of the action. The duet between Mandryka and Arabella with its soaring lyrical themes and luscious harmonies is a highlight of the opera; Arabella has found her life partner and Mandryka the great beauty he has fantasized about for months. From this point on however the fairy tale begins to unravel. Arabella takes leave of her other suitors who are now disappointed that she has chosen another man. Matteo is particularly stung and Zdenka, who is secretly in love with him, seizes the opportunity to have him for herself. She gives the heartbroken fool a letter, supposedly from Arabella but which she has in fact written, inviting him to her room and even providing him with the key (her key). Mandryka, who has witnessed all this and thinks Arabella is untrue, flies into a jealous rage and immediately starts flirting with Fiakermilli (Lorina Gore), the cabaret artiste from the ball. He then insults Arabella’s mother and the act draws to a troubling close. Miss Gore as Fiakermilli sings with commitment and precision and is a highlight of the second act. She has a clear light coloratura voice which cuts across the orchestra like a knife and her flirtatious acting is completely charming. Act three deals with Zdenka’s coming out as a woman and Mandryka and Arabella’s reconciliation. Matteo, who has made love to Zdenka thinking it was Arabella (that room must have been dark!) is shocked by Arabella’s sudden coldness towards him. He is also shocked when he discovers that he has in fact just slept with Zdenka whom he thought was Zdenko, his best friend, but gets over this in about two minutes and decides that he now wants to marry Zdenka and not Arabella! The confusion is great as is Mandryka’s refusal to believe that Arabella is innocent of betraying him. Once he realizes what a fool he has been he curses himself and his failure to trust Arabella. His great remorse is relieved however when Arabella forgives him and in agreeing to marry him fulfils the fairy tale hope of living ‘happily ever after’. The singing in this act is once again splendid as is the acting and the opera draws to a satisfying conclusion. Arabella sings some of the loveliest music in the final moments of the piece and Miss Barker’s wonderfully even voice and warmth of tone are really worth hearing. She sings ‘Take me as I am’, meaning take me as I am and not as you imagine me to be and not as you think I ought to be, and there is a relevant message for all of us in these words today. Although the plot of Arabella is convoluted and clichéd, Opera Australia has managed to create an attractive looking and successful production. The singing is consistently good throughout and the orchestra plays beautifully and without drowning out the singers. The acting is always believable and the singers, who are ideally suited to their roles both vocally and physically, portray believable characters. Whilst this production will not challenge you much, the quality of the music making definitely makes it worth a look.

Arabella , SOH, 7 March 2008

A rare and transcendent experience by Sarah Noble

R. Strauss: Arabella Opera Australia Sydney Opera House 7 March 2008

Arabella is the beloved daughter of the Waldners, an aristocratic family of rapidly diminishing means. Their survival depends on a good marriage for their daughter; Arabella has no shortage of suitors but steadfastly awaits "the right man". She finds him in Mandryka. But the Waldners have another daughter, Zdenka, who has been raised as a boy - bringing two daughters out in 19th century Viennese society would be far too expensive. Zdenka unrequitedly loves Arabella's most ardent admirer, Matteo, and forges letters to him from her sister which she passes on in her guise as "Zdenko", Arabella's sister and Matteo's confidant. Everything comes to a head at the Cabbies' Ball. Zdenka, taking her forgeries a step further, arranges a nocturnal liaison with Matteo, supposedly on her sister's behalf, but planning to be there herself instead. Mandryka overhears their conversation. Shattered, he misbehaves appallingly and nearly ruins everything - until a lengthy, confused confrontation in the hotel lobby eventually reveals all. Matteo conveniently transfers his affections to the newly female Zdenka and Arabella and her Mr. Right are at last betrothed. Strauss' opera intersperses hilarity with passages of real depth and emotional power, exploring both the comic possibilities of love and its complex, psychological side. Arabella is a fascinating, witty heroine, who laughingly flirts with her suitors without wavering in her determination to marry only for true love. The action hints at farce but never descends to it; Strauss' luscious, shimmering score paints true love in all its glory, and adds a touch of greatness to even the silliest moments. Opera Australia has done itself proud with this, its very first Arabella. John Cox's resplendently traditional production is a joy, presented with genuine insight and an eye for beauty. Behind the interior sets hovers a birds-eye diorama of Vienna, a quietly effective reminder of the larger world into which these individuals fit. His ball scene is a triumph of subtlety, merely hinting at the outskirts of a crowd rather than piling everybody in, as some directors might. Richard Hickox leads the orchestra in a beautifully shaped performance, sensitive but never subservient to the singers. Strauss' score offers many an opportunity for almost outrageous orchestral gorgeousness; Hickox grabs most of them, while steering admirably clear of total self-indulgence. Cheryl Barker is incandescent in the title role, a sweet, vivacious Arabella who sounds as heart-stoppingly exquisite as she looks. An actress of rare talent, she creates a three dimensional and immensely sympathetic character. Vocally the role fits her dark, lustrous tone and electrifying expressivity like an expensive silk glove. Having begun beautifully, her performance proceeds to gain in intensity as the performance proceeds, culminating in a climax and denouement of incredible impact. A true Sternstunde for a consistently excellent artist.

Singing Mandryka is Barker's real-life partner, baritone Peter Coleman-Wright. Unsurprisingly, the chemistry between the two is potent. When, in the duet "Und du wirst mein Gebieter sein", they pledge themselves to one another, the electricity is palpable. Indeed, it's hard to know whether to watch, amazed, or turn aside and give them their privacy. Coleman-Wright's Mandryka is a genial and appealing creation; what his voice lacks in outright splendour he makes up for in elegant phrasing and smooth, Straussian legato. Emma Matthews' success as Zdenka is less complete. In Strauss' fast-paced recitatives she is in her element, bright-toned and bubbly. As her phrases grow longer and more lyrical, however, she flutters rather than soars; her quick vibrato and light tone, while basically appealing, don't quite do justice to all of Zdenka's music. Usually a pretty admirable actress, she falters in this quasi-pants role, squirming and posturing like Cherubino on a sugar rush; contrasted with the radiant stillness of Cheryl Barker's Arabella, her manner is all the more offputting. It is not until matters turn serious in the final act that her own usual poise and musical grace return. Richard Roberts is suitably lyrical and earnest as her Matteo, his clear and youthful tenor floating easily above the orchestra. Mezzo soprano Milijana Nikolic is wickedly wonderful as the extravagant Countess Waldner, her sonorous tone put to particularly good use. As her husband, Conal Coad is likewise in fine form, an endearingly mischievous compulsive gambler. Particularly impressive is Lorina Gore's star turn (and Opera Australia début) as Fiakermilli, tackling the role's fearsome coloratura with agility and impressive vocal clarity. Jacqueline Dark is an all-too-brief treat as a mercenary Fortune Teller. Only Kanen Breen is miscast, his unchanging brand of comedy, though suitable elsewhere, are trivial and irrelevant in Arabella and his voice is all but inaudible. Yet even a far greater misstep would have little impact on the overarching excellence of this Arabella. "How vain to separate the two. Words and music become as one, join together to form a new creation....Each art redeemed by the other!" So says the Countess Madeleine in the closing scene of another Strauss opera, his Capriccio. Asked to determine which is the most important aspect of opera, she cannot choose, she realises that there is no choice to be made - in its ideal form, opera combines the two to create something new and indivisible. With its new production of his elegant Viennese comedy Arabella, Opera Australia has achieved just this kind of alchemy. Very much more than the sum of its individually excellent parts, this Arabella is a rare and transcendent experience, not to be missed by those who have not seen it and unlikely to be forgotten by those who have.

Text © Sarah Noble Photos © Branco Gaica

Un Ballo in Maschera, SOH, Feb 24, 2008

Opera Australia Un Ballo in Maschera (A Masked Ball) Giuseppe Verdi Performed in Italian with English surtitles Venue: Opera Theatre | Sydney Opera House Evenings: February 20, 23, 26, 29; March 10, 13, 19, 29 @ 7.30pm Matinee: March 8 at 1.00pm Review written by Eliza Eggler

Sunday, 24 February 2008

Giuseppe Verdi’s Un Ballo in Maschera (A Masked Ball) is considered by some to be a masterpiece whilst others have described it as his ‘worst opera’; and whilst Opera Australia’s current production is not the ‘worst opera’ I have seen, it is disappointing. Wednesday’s opening night performance is a good example of all the worst stereotypes that people think of when the word ‘opera’ is mentioned; these include overacting, ridiculous costumes, and portly singers bellowing in unattractive tones about an impossible and unrequited love. The opera tells the story of King Gustav III of Sweden who is murdered by his best friend Anckarstroem at a masked ball. Anckarstroem kills Gustav after learning that the king and his wife are in love with one another and have had a secret rendezvous. ‘Un Ballo in Maschera’ is full of wonderful music and has the potential to be a really exciting piece of theatre. This production however, which is now over twenty years old, is anything but exciting and looks quite worn out and drab. The first scene of the first act is set in the king’s audience chamber and we are introduced to most of the opera’s main characters. King Gustav (Dennis O’Neill) does much of his singing from a ridiculous looking winged throne and unfortunately looks anything but a king. His singing seems insecure and he has difficulties moving between the middle and upper registers of his voice. Oscar, the king’s page (Natalie Jones) sings competently and portrays a lively and cheeky character. She has however an excessive vibrato which detracts from what is otherwise a very good voice. Scene two of the first act is set in Ulrica the fortune tellers hut and the stage is so dimly lit that it’s difficult to see who is singing what. Ulrica, (Bernadette Cullen) wearing a costume of rags and with feathers in her hair, looks somewhat like a cross between Hiawatha and Oliver Twist. She sings an aria to invoke spirits and as with the other female singers in this cast has excessive vibrato. After she tells some fortunes, Ulrica sends everyone away and the heroine Amelia (Nicole Youl) arrives seeking a cure for her forbidden love. Ulrica suggests a herb which can only be found growing beneath the cities gallows and Amelia resolves to get some that very night. Act two scene two is where Gustav and Amelia, alone together at last, confess their love for one another in one of opera’s most beautiful duets. The singing is not bad and the tenor seems to have settled in to his voice more by this stage. Miss Youl has a powerful and at times beautiful voice, although once again I found the vibrato to be excessive and this detracts from her lovely tone. My main objection to this scene is that it is simply impossible to believe that these two characters are in love. The soprano is considerably taller than the portly tenor and looks beautiful, but Gustav, the object of her affection looks comical in his costume and wig (I couldn’t help imagining Danny de Vito cast opposite Catherine Zeta Jones). After singing a luscious and passionate duet together they grab one another as if hanging on to a block of wood and as the audience applauds, look most uncomfortable indeed. Act three scene one, Anckerstroem (Michael Lewis) has discovered his wife’s betrayal and decides that she deserves to die. He sings the aria ‘Eri tu, che macchiavi quell’ anima’ with a beautiful, steady baritone voice and this was the only instance in the whole evening that I felt slightly moved. The second scene of this act is devoted to the masked ball where the murder of Gustav is to take place. The stage finally comes alive and it is a relief to see some movement. Up until now, the action has been thoroughly static and with the dim lighting effect, keeping the eyes open has been difficult. The chorus sings well and it’s a joy to hear the massed voices, although why the choristers are all dressed in identical costumes of what looks like grey silk is anyone’s guess. Anckerstroem finally does the deed, stabbing Gustav and fatally wounding him. Gustav takes some time to die however and manages to sing a last aria before finally passing away. Just prior to his death he makes a choking sound and rather than tears on my behalf I almost laughed, so unrealistic was the acting. This production of ‘Ballo’ is disappointing indeed. The stage is often static and boring to watch, the singing is mediocre and the acting not believable. On top of this it’s impossible to imagine that Gustav and Amelia are remotely attracted to each other, let alone madly in love! The audience reaction fluctuated between cool and luke warm and I couldn’t help noticing that the seats in front of me had been vacated after the second interval. It is definitely time for a new production of this Verdi ‘masterpiece’ and if Opera Australia wants to continue attracting an audience it’s time to say goodbye to this tired looking production. Having said that, if you just love Verdi and want to hear some beautiful music, then by all means take a look. If however you want to see an exciting and challenging piece of theatre, then don’t worry about this one.

Un Ballo in Maschera, SOH - Picture Essay

Un Ballo in Maschera, SOH, Feb 20, 2008

Opera Australia's Ballo falls short by Sarah Noble

Verdi: Un ballo in maschera Opera Australia Sydney Opera House 20 February 2008

UN ballo in maschera is the ultimate grand opera, embodying both the genuine conventions of the genre and the popular, slightly ridiculous stereotype. Within its brisk plot, it incorporates all the elements some might imagine are to be found in every opera - royalty, political intrigue, lovers' trysts, disguises, vengeance, murder. The subject is romanticised history. Gustav III of Sweden loves Amelia, and is loved in return. But Amelia is married to Anckerstroem, Gustav's best friend and Secretary of State. When Anckerstroem discovers the pair's mutual affection, he joins a conspiracy to kill Gustav, ultimately stabbing the king at the titular masked ball. Gustav survives just long enough to pardon his assassins and assure Anckerstroem of Amelia's purity. In lesser hands, such a work might become mere self-caricature. Verdi's treatment, however, ensures that while UN ballo in maschera embodies those conventions, it also enlivens them. It follows a formula, but does so with concentrated energy and incredible skill, and therein lies its appeal. Ballo is excellent but not extraordinary, and thus requires something extraordinary in its execution to truly succeed. A superlative cast, or a fascinating production; or even better, both. Opera Australia's UN ballo in maschera unfortunately provides neither. Maestro Licata's passion can't be doubted, but the performance he leads lacks shape and rhythmic drive. The orchestral palette seems uncharacteristically limited - even the seriously spooky music which introduces the satanic fortune teller Ulrica lacks impact, hard to believe given Verdi's hugely atmospheric writing for the scene. The first act in particular was marred by a lack of cohesion between orchestra and soloists. John Cox's production, directed for revival by Luise Napier, is similarly uninspiring, offering little insight or character development. The opening scenes hint at a deeper interpretation - Gustav's throne room is overshadowed by glimpses of Ulrica's lair which loom behind, a hint of his increasingly threatened position. However, later scenes fail to follow this notion through effectively, and the singers are left relatively directionless. Michael Stennett's impressive costume designs are perhaps the most vivid aspect of the production - otherwise the result is disappointing.

Verdi specialist Dennis O'Neill sings Gustav. This style is evidently in O'Neill's blood and he responds passionately to the role's declamatory climaxes. As an authoritative leader, his singing is compelling. But Gustav is also supposed to be madly in love, and here O'Neill is far less convincing. Coupled with a repertoire of almost cartoonish stock gestures, his shouted expressions of tender feeling are difficult to credit - his facial and vocal expression in these moments bearing little resemblance to the words being sung. Michael Lewis' Anckerstroem is a more persuasive characterisation, his patrician baritone conveying subtler authority. Nicole Youl sings Amelia with some beauty but little electricity. Even in her highly dramatic graveyard scene, surrounded by swirling mist and the corpses of executed criminals, she seems strangely detached. Her performance intensifies for the final act, however, and "Morro, ma prima in grazia" is quite moving. Mezzo soprano Bernadette Cullen, by contrast, makes much of the role of Ulrica, glorying in the fortune teller's doom-laden and eerie music. Her dark, austere sound is suitably scary, and she makes liberal and gratifying use of her chest register. Natalie Jones brings sweetness of tone and a sense of fun to the exuberant page Oscar, but her coloratura is laboured and lacks sparkle. Among the supporting cast, Andrew Moran is a standout as a bright-toned sailor, and Jud Arthur brings his usual suave, expressive baritone and appealing stage presence to the role of the conspirator Count Ribbing. The chorus sings well as always, but seems less at ease in this idiom than elsewhere. UN ballo in maschera isn't the most celebrated of Verdi's operas, and neither should it be. However, it is top shelf Verdi just the same, and marks an important point on the path to the greatest of his masterpieces. It is a work of conventional excellence laced with hints of utter genius, and needs a performance to match. Despite intermittently valiant attempts, Opera Australia's production ultimately falls short.

Text © Sarah Noble Photos © Branco Gaica

Carmen - SOH - Jan 25, 2008

Carmen

Peter McCallum, reviewer
January 25, 2008

Nothing beastly about the animals, just the staging.

Feeling giddy ... Michael Todd Simpson and Kirstin Chavez in Carmen.
Photo: Domino Postiglione

The toreador's entrance into Act 2's Goyaesque tavern was splendid in every way, but just before the famous toreador refrain, the noble beast on which he was mounted shook its ears with that worrisome intensity that animals conjure when something is not right.

Up to that point, I had been inclined to agree.

The staging of Act 1 was flat, both visually and dramatically, with Tanya McCallin's set of ochre-stained concrete stressing the horizontal, while the direction, by Francesca Zambello and Denni Sayers, seemed intent on creating a crowded stage with formulaic flirtation. This chiefly involved cigarette girls being pawed, lifting skirts and straddling everything that moved and a few things that didn't, while in place of ideas a few gratuitous animals wandered listlessly around, provoking amusement.

However, Kirstin Chavez is an arresting Carmen, and although her seductive aspect in this act was about as subtle as watching tomcats having their tails pulled, the voice (even with a slight tendency to go sharp in this act) captures the same rich fleshiness and freedom as the persona.

As a performance, it grew in stature: in Act 3, when she keeps dealing the cards and finding death, Chavez was able to toll the low notes of her register with remarkable penetration and resonance. She remained statuesque and defiant in voice and spirit to the final moment, even when sprawled across the stage, pretending that the final rape attempt was more potent than it was.

Rosario La Spina's Don Jose was best in Act 2. Tenors need to save the best for the last act in this role. While there was no hint of vocal fatigue at the end (the less controlled moments were, in fact, in Act 1), the performance had passed its peak in terms of dramatic and vocal intensity.

Sarah Crane sang Micaela, the good girl's role, with an ideal mixture of vocal sweetness, fluid musical shape and suppressed inner fervour, and was one of the few characters whose on-stage dignity rivalled the horse.

As Escamillo the toreador, Michael Todd Simpson was tall and amiable, and a fine singer and table-top dancer: the persona and voice tended more towards the affable than the hypnotically erotic.

The support characters were strong, with Sian Pendry and Amy Wilkinson making an engaging gypsy pair in Act 3. Smugglers Luke Gabbedy and Graeme Macfarlane mercurially oiled the wheels of the action while troopers Andrew Moran and Shane Lowrencev failed to block its spokes.

The conductor, Richard Hickox, led a well-balanced orchestra with an unusually strong string section.

Carmen - SOH - Jan 24, 2008

Visually remarkable but ultimately lacking in depth by Sarah Noble

Bizet: Carmen Opera Australia Sydney Opera House 24 January 2008

Francesca Zambello's production of Bizet's Carmen, which premiered at the Royal Opera House in 2006 and opened in Sydney on Thursday evening, opens with a striking, Goya-esque tableau of a handcuffed and bloodied Don José - the imprisoned murderer of Carmen. He's led roughly offstage and the opera follows as José's flashback. It's an unconventional start to an otherwise hypertraditional production. Zambello's Carmen bursts with local colour, brilliant detail and the odd surprise: a half-naked village girl, a real live donkey, flamenco dancers and a show-stealing black horse for Escamillo. She has succeeded in breathing vibrant new life into an opera which can easily become cliché. However that vibrancy, which depends largely on production values, only goes so far. With an occasional exception, the opera contains a set of performances which, while engaging enough, could nevertheless come from any less visually imaginative production.. The new life which Zambello has brought doesn't stretch beyond the gorgeous surface, and the result is an attractive but ultimately slightly shallow Carmen. That said, Kirstin Chávez makes a mightily alluring Carmen, an intelligent portrayal which neither descends to outright sluttishness nor exaggerates the character's unconventional virtues. Hers is a voice full of the requisite Bohemian fire and earthy sex appeal, a velvety mezzo in the same black and scarlet tones as her costumes, and she is disarmingly at ease in the role. As Don José, Rosario La Spina displays improving musical sensitivity, his tendency to shout pleasingly curbed in favour of a subtler approach. Some high passages are still pushed too hard but overall his singing here indicates reassuring artistic progress. Unfortunately, his Don José sounds romantic but doesn't particularly look it, his stilted behaviour towards both Carmen and Micaela showing little evidence of devotion or passion for either. Sarah Crane brings sweet, ringing tone to the innocent Micaela, though she's slightly too soubrettish for the role; Micaela is young, but she has a grave, mature soul which is better reflected by a fuller lyric voice. She's best in her early ensemble scenes; later, her "Je dis que rien ne m'épouvante" is touching and pretty, but rather mercilessly exposed. Baritone Michael Todd Simpson is the suave toréador Escamillo, bringing a slender but elegant voice to the part, though he's done no favours by the theatre's poor acoustics. His is an understated Escamillo; at times this appeals but ultimately it makes him slightly difficult to accept as the local celebrity and dashing thief of Carmen's heart.

Carmen's cohorts Frasquita and Mercédès are sung by soprano Amy Wilkinson and mezzo Sian Pendry respectively, both current members of Young Artists programme. They sing with spirit and style; Pendry in particular shows real promise, displaying the sturdy, colourful voice of a Carmen in the making. Andrew Moran shows impressive vocal command as Moralès, while Shane Lowrencev makes an amusingly lecherous Zuniga. Luke Gabbedy and Graeme Macfarlane are the smugglers Dancaïro and Remendado, at their rascally best in the ensemble "Nous avons en tête une affaire". The Opera Australia chorus is characterful and enthusiastic in the opera's many crowd scenes, taking well-deserved pleasure in the famous Toréador Song. The boys of the remarkably small chorus of urchins (only nine or ten) are likewise a credit to the company. The score of Carmen is one of the best known in the repertory. To maintain interest it needs a conductor who can maintain a lively pace without riding roughshod over the detail. Opera Australia has lavished one of the finest conductors in its stable - Music Director Richard Hickox - upon the piece, and he more or less manages this feat. He starts the overture almost the very second he reaches the podium, and continues to conduct a Carmen at once exciting and familiarly jolly - no shocking turns of orchestral phrase, but no slipping into autopilot either. However, on opening night there was quite a tug of war between Hickox and Chávez regarding tempi, particularly in her Habanera - the only blot on an otherwise smoulderingly beautiful rendition. The issue eventually seemed to resolve itself, though it was difficult to tell who was bent to whose will. Carmen has been an audience favourite for a very long time. Productions such as Zambello's ensure it will remain so for years to come, revitalising the opera's beloved aspects without challenging the assumptions which underlie that adored status. Nevertheless this is a visually remarkable Carmen ultimately let down by dramatic superficiality and thus, while impressive, is never genuinely exceptional. Zambello's Carmen preaches to the choir, offering an array of delights guaranteed to please those who adore the opera already, but likely to leave hungry those in search of psychological depth or a dash of revolution.

Text © Sarah Noble Photos © Branco Gaica

Cenerentola - SOH - Jan 18, 2008

Capturing the magic of La Cenerentola by Sarah Noble

Rossini: La Cenerentola Opera Australia Sydney Opera House 18 January 2008

It's Cinderella, but not as we know it. Rossini's La Cenerentola retains the basic story - the downtrodden and virtuous cinder-girl who enchants a prince and transcends her nasty stepfamily - but excises its supernatural aspects. No transfigured rodents, no pumpkin, no glass slipper and no fairy godmother. Instead, the story is recast to better fit comic opera conventions. Cenerentola/Angelina resembles a less frivolous Rosina, a strong-willed young woman, oppressed by circumstances, but convinced that she can triumph - her opening aria, the simple canzone "Una volta c'era un rè", tells of a king in search of a wife who chose innocence and goodness over pomp and beauty. The accidentally abandoned glass slipper is replaced by a bracelet (one of a pair) which Angelina herself gives to the man she loves, thus taking control of her own destiny. Fairytales from Perrault to Disney abound in truly terrifying evil stepmothers, but Cenerentola has instead a bumbling buffo basso stepfather (ironically named Don Magnifico); her stepsisters are silly, conceited girls but never menacing. Replacing the fairy godmother as deus ex machina is the prince's wise old tutor Alidoro - whose name, literally "wings of gold", acknowledges his magical origins - who oversees a typically opera buffa series of disguises and swapped identities. The Prince (Don Ramiro) switches places with his valet (Dandini). The pure-heared Cenerentola falls for the penniless valet; while the disguised Dandini easily exposes the heartless vanity of the sisters. The fairies, spells and enchanted flora and fauna might be gone, but thanks to Rossini's ever inventive (even if in places self-plagiarised) and sprightly score, and a truly lovely rendering by Opera Australia, the magic is not. Directed by Michael Hampe, with sets and costumes by Reinhard Heinrich, the production finds other ways to bewitch - the stepsisters' preposterously lavish frocks, storybook sets and best of all, a frenzied dash through the storm by a horse and carriage in Gothic silhouette, a coup de théâtre which drew much laughter and applause from the audience. Plenty of magic, too, in the evening's performances. Dominica Matthews, a 2007 Young Artist now taking on her first lead role with the company, is a winning Cenerentola, determined but sweet. Blessed with both a full, fascinating lower register and a bright (if occasionally edgy) top - not to particular brand of agility which Rossini's operas demand - she tackles the role's vocal challenges with verve and clear-voiced beauty, and mostly emerges triumphant. At this early stage of her career, she mightn't yet be prima donna enough to carry the whole show herself; but she certainly shows signs of blossoming into just such a talent.

Don Ramiro is sung by Kanen Breen, one of Opera Australia's more unusual artists - a lyric tenor whose greatest asset is not his voice (appealing but rarely distinctive and occasionally worryingly constricted) but his prodigious gift for physical comedy. With his matinée idol features, he could be the illegitimate operatic offspring of Buster Keaton and Ivor Novello. He certainly makes a wonderfully funny Prince; but the fact remains that it's Prince Charming whom Cinderella falls for, not Prince Great Sense of Humour, and his characterisation, both physical and vocal, could have done with a touch more suavity. If there's a show-stealer in this Cenerentola, it's Joshua Bloom's Dandini. Bloom has already won a Green Room Award for his portrayal of the role, and it's hardly surprising - he's irresistibly, outrageously hilarious, especially when camping it up in Act II to disconcert Don Magnifico. He matches comic brilliance with vocal splendour, an opulent and flexible baritone. David Thelander is disappointingly underpowered as Alidoro; he has some attractive passages but lacks the commanding vocal and physical presence which his role as puppeteer requires. Richard Alexander fares somewhat better as Don Magnifico, but is ultimately too generic, missing the role's abundant opportunities for hilarity. The two stepsisters - one hesitates to call them "ugly" as both look and sound rather pretty - make no such mistake. Taryn Fiebig is a deliciously bright-toned Clorinda, showcasing her none-too-shabby ballet skills in the opening scene, and is well matched by Jacqueline Dark's ebullient mezzo as Tisbe. The men of the Opera Australia chorus are superb as the royal entourage, their singing crisp and precise and their synchronised fawning highly amusing. Maestro Brad Cohen draws a mostly cohesive, idiomatic performance from the AOBO, skilfully balancing overbubbling wit with a strong sense of line and elegance and deftly supporting the singers. Rossini's La Cenerentola mightn't be a fairytale in the strictest sense, but there's little doubt of its power to enchant, and with this smart production and a generally impressive cast, Opera Australia goes a long way toward capturing that magic.

Text © Sarah Noble Photos © Branco Gaica

Cenerentola - SOH - Jan 14, 2008

La Cenerentola

Peter McCallum, reviewer
January 14, 2008

A testament to opera's fidelity to its bel canto roots and its determination never to be taken entirely seriously as an art form.

In some respects it is surprising that Rossini's La Cenerentola continues to be performed at all by major opera companies: the survival of this pantomime work is a testament to opera's fidelity to its bel canto roots and its determination never to be taken entirely seriously as an art form.

When Rossini wrote it in 1817, it was a manifestation of popular escapism from the grimness of post-Napoleonic regimes, and he weaves together unreconstructed enlightenment ideals about clemency and virtuous rulers which were an anachronism in their time and whose contemporary relevance is doubly questionable. It remains an expensive version of the children's fairy story (without pumpkin and slippers) primarily watched by adults who feel it would be a perfect introduction for children if only they could be captured at that crucial point between fidgetiness and rebellion. Few can, but hope springs eternal.

This production gives a young team valuable opportunities in major roles. As Angelina (Cinderella), Dominica Matthews is a promising coloratura mezzo soprano who, in the simple arias of Act I, had warmth without wobble and, in the virtuosic closing show-stopper, Nacqui All'Affanno, had agility and focus throughout the demanding two-octave-plus range over which Rossini asks his singer to skate. Sometimes, there is an element of caution which slightly inhibits the nuance and shaping behind each phrase and occasionally gives an impression of inflexibility but this is a creditable role debut.

Kanen Breen, as the handsome prince, has a penetrating edge to his voice, well suited to comedy, as though he sang everything with a light chuckle, giving his Act II aria Si, Ritrovarla Io Guiro effective precision. In some respects his voice and Matthews's didn't blend at all in the love duet of Act I, though this imparted its own comic charm, like a bean-pole wooing a homely maid.

Taryn Fiebig, as the stepsister Clorinda, had true Rossinian lightness and colour, while Jacqueline Dark (Tisbe) brought warmth to ensembles. Under conductor Brad Cohen, those ensembles were not always together, although the choice of tempos was generally apt.

One recent press advertisement for a children's pantomime proclaimed the educational value of repetitive learning and Rossini's sequences certainly provide plenty of opportunities for that, and perhaps a little more scope for variety and sharply pointed phrasing in the orchestral playing than was exploited here.

Richard Alexander created a fine character role, vocally and dramatically, out of the pompous baron, Don Magnifico.

With fly-in sets and silhouetted shadow plays, this production by Michael Hampe (direction), Reinhard Heinrich (design) and Nigel Levings builds on the artificialities of pantomime and, as a way to give your children expensive tastes, it is certainly recommended.

La Boheme - SOH - Jan 7, 2008

Kwon creates a precious beauty

Reviewed by Peter McCallum
January 7, 2008

La Boheme, Opera Australia, Opera House, January 4

The Paris of Simon Phillips's production of Puccini's La Boheme is not the sort of Paris you imagine; though, with its cheap accommodation, bad wiring and grimy car parks, it is possibly the one you will get, at least on a modern budget.

His bohemians are generation Y males, who use laptops, do drugs and leave the toilet seat up and, although some of the transposition of 19th-century deprivations to contemporary ones are contrived (burning a print-out of your latest play for warmth doesn't have quite the devil-may-care abandon of burning a handwritten text), the attempt is generally amusing.

However, this is not really the point. As the writer Carl Dahlhaus pointed out, Paris is as much the heroine of Boheme as Mimi. You have to love them both. You have to feel that in the intoxication of the Cafe Momus, that, for a brief moment, the problems of the world and the problems of your love life are inextricably fused and equally solvable. Loving is easy to do in the case of Hye Seoung Kwon's Mimi, who is becoming Opera Australia's patron saint of dying waifs.

But Phillips and the designer, Stephen Curtis, have replaced Paris with an anonymous modern city space overtaken by what Milan Kundera has called the Age of Total Ugliness.

Kwon's voice is still on the small side for this role, but the purity of sound and vowel creates a precious beauty, which sat very well with her fragile characterisation, and she was able to rise to great strength in Act III. In fact it was Acts III and IV that redeemed this performance after a first half that lacked both dramatic and musical passion (despite the efforts of a splendid breakdancer just before the curtain).

As Rodolfo, Aldo Di Toro didn't quite sustain the long lines of the great duet at the end of Act I, with a slight tendency to let the tension out of the voice between phrases, despite an undeniably attractive lightness in all parts of his range.

But in the last two acts, things became both musically and dramatically galvanised and Phillips should be congratulated for finding a way of setting Puccini's difficult final close plausibly without losing impact.

The gen Y males, though uncouth, are splendid, Jose Carbo powerful and suave as Marcello, Jud Arthur, as the dreadlocked drug-dealing philosopher Colline, soberly renunciatory in the Act IV coat song, and Warwick Fyfe intense as the burning-eyed musician Schaunard. Amelia Farrugia's Musetta was vocally bright and involving in the second and final acts, although cluttered direction deprived her vocally fine Quando M'en Vo Soletta in Act II of seductiveness, pushing it towards meretricious parody, to which John Bolton Wood (Benoit and Alcindoro) was a willing fall guy.

The conductor, Giovanni Reggioli, allowed musical lines to float with an instinctive ear for dramatic pace and the result from the orchestra was well-shaped and rewarding despite occasional weaknesses, particularly in the woodwind.

La Bohème - SOH - 4 January 2008

Contemporary, but comfortable and suitably tragic by Sarah Noble

Puccini: La bohème Opera Australia Sydney Opera House 4 January 2008

Updating operas isn't necessarily a risky business; there are ways of playing it safe. Simon Phillips' production of Puccini's La bohème, which opened Opera Australia's 2008 season, does just this. The sets and costumes are recognisably, and at times even surprisingly, modern-day - Rodolfo writes his poem on a laptop, the crowd around Café Momus includes a breakdancer in gold lurex, and the reunion of Mimi and Rodolfo takes place amid dumpsters and wheelie bins. Within his contemporary frame, though, Phillips does little to court controversy. Having recontextualised the action, he more or less lets it be, and the core theme of the opera - the blossoming of love and friendship in conditions of extreme poverty - is left unmeddled with. Other than their clothes and lodgings, there's little about Rodolfo's and Mimi's behaviour and interaction that reflects the modern setting, though Marcello's and Musetta's tempestuous relationship is slightly more twenty-first century. The poet Rodolfo is sung with silky legato and bright, compact tone by tenor Aldo Di Toro. His is an appealingly understated performance, responding well to the lyrical expansiveness of the score but resisting melodramatic vocal gestures. This occasionally means he's swallowed up in the orchestra, but when his own musical climaxes arrive, such as at Mimi's death, the contrast is all the more powerful. Hye Seoung Kwon brings a pretty, girlish (if at times too vibrato-laden) sound and sweet stage presence to Mimi, but both voice and characterisation lack depth; this will no doubt come as Kwon, whose career is still in relative infancy, has time to settle into the role and put her own stamp upon it. There was stagey affection but little palpable chemistry between the couple, though this may simply have been down to opening night jitters.

Chemistry aplenty, however, came from the opera's other couple, the fiery, on-again off-again pairing of Marcello and Musetta. José Carbo is in towering form as the former, his rich, expressive baritone dominating his every scene and easily filling the house. Amelia Farrugia brings wit, humanity and sparkling tone to Musetta. Jud Arthur is a sonorous yet playful Colline, touching in his brief aria, a farewell to his treasured overcoat. Warwick Fyfe's Schaunard suffered initially from rather muddy diction and breathy delivery but shortly blossomed into a winning and humorous performance. John Bolton Wood brings every ounce of his buffo basso expertise to bear in his two brilliant cameos, as the grouchy landlord Benoit and then as Musetta's baffled sugar-daddy, Alcindoro. The Opera Australia chorus is in typically excellent form, adding real energy and fun to the Act II crowd scene. Maestro Giovanni Reggioli leads the AOBO through a sprightly and atmospheric rendering of Puccini's score. Rodolfo and Mimi might be an iconic couple, but La bohème is in its essence an ensemble piece. Opera Australia has put together an cast who work well together, a combination of old hands and relative debutantes. Set against the backdrop of Simon Phillips' affectionate modernisation, this La bohème while not madly passionate, is nevertheless heartwarming and quietly tragic. This is a contemporary but comfortable La bohème; and whether that's a blessing or a bit of a disappointment depends entirely on your point of view.

Text © Sarah Noble Photos © Branco Gaica

Juditha Triumphans - Pinchgut - Dec 8, 2007

Pinchgut Opera presents Vivaldi’s Juditha Triumphans Sung in Latin with English surtitles Venue: City Recital Hall Angel Place, Sydney Written by Eliza Eggler

Saturday, 08 December 2007

‘Judith was left alone in the tent, with Holofernes stretched out on the bed, for he was overcome with wine … she went up to the post at the end of the bed, above Holofernes’ head, and took down his sword that hung there. She came close to the bed and took hold of the hair of his head, and said: ‘Give me strength this day, O Lord God of Israel!’ And she struck his neck twice with all her might, and severed his head from his body.’ The Book of Judith 13:9 Italy 1617, a red haired Italian priest by the name of Antonio Vivaldi is commissioned by his employer at the Ospedale della Pieta to write an oratorio in celebration of Venice’s victory over the Turks. He takes as his subject matter the biblical story of Judith, a story that draws parallels to a Venice under threat from Turkish invasion; as a result, ‘Juditha Triumphans’ is born. Australia 2007, Pinchgut Opera presents this little-known work at the City Recital Hall in Sydney for four performances only and draws it’s own parallels between the biblical story and contemporary political struggles. Religious persecution, military domination and the clash of cultures are themes that resonate strongly today. By creating a hybrid world of modernity and antiquity, director Mark Gaal has created an extremely relevant piece of theatre. Who would have thought this possible with a 400 year old oratorio sung in Latin! ‘Juditha Triumphans’ is full of the most glorious vocal and orchestral music and conductor Attilio Cremonesi (also a Venetian) lovingly coaxes the very best from his musicians and singers. The Orchestra of the Antipodes is situated in front of the stage allowing the audience to feel closer to the music making process and to marvel at the curious array of early music instruments; the chalumeau (predecessor of the clarinet) and the theorbo (a variation of the lute) are particularly interesting. The singers perform on a very small stage consisting of some stairs, scaffolding and various props, and despite the lack of space, the stage convincingly transforms itself into the enemy camp of the Assyrians, the town of Bethulia, and Holofernes’ tent where Judith beheads the Assyrian general. Sally-Anne Russell sings the title role of Judith and I can’t praise her enough. Not only does she have a glorious voice, she is also a convincing actress. Her voice is capable of beautiful legato and pianissimo singing as well as more dramatic tones, and on several occasions you could have heard a pin drop, so mesmerizing was she. Her performance of ‘Veni, Veni me sequere fida’, which also features Craig Hill on the soprano chalumeau, is a highlight of the evening. The culmination of Judith’s emotional journey in the oratorio occurs when she beheads Holofernes and Miss Russell's portrayal of this struggle is thrilling. Red light floods the stage as Judith decapitates her admirer and the oppressor of her people, blood splashing across her dress; the effect is chilling and realistic and is the most effective murder scene I have witnessed in an opera. Counter tenor David Walker (Holofernes) has a beautiful warm voice and his performance on opening night, although somewhat tentative at first, became more confident as the evening progressed. Although he is the evildoer of the piece, he presents a not completely inhuman character and this works well as it makes Judith’s struggle with her grim task easier to believe. Fiona Campbell who plays Vagaus (Holofernes’ aide) is also a singer of outstanding ability and her performance of ‘Umbrae carae’ is incredibly beautiful. This is soon followed by the aria ‘Armatae face’ which she sings after discovering the beheading of Holofernes. Although the aria is full of difficult coloratura, Miss Campbell performs with ease and apparent lack of concern for the obvious technical difficulties; the audience was rightly impressed and showed their appreciation with a generous round of applause. Sara Macliver sings Abra, Judith’s companion, and Renae Martin, Ozias. Both of these singers perform with confidence and vocal beauty. Juditha Triumphans is not an oratorio that provides extensive opportunities for the chorus. However, the six choruses that do appear in ‘Juditha Triumphans’ are sung by Cantillation with their usual ease and glorious lightness of tone. Pinchgut Opera’s performance of ‘Juditha Triumphans’ is a splendid opportunity to see and hear a rare work performed by wonderful musicians and singers. If you appreciate beautiful singing then this is definitely for you. Don’t miss out though because unfortunately there are only three performances left and I dare say that ‘Juditha Triumphans’ won’t be performed again in Sydney for some time to come. Pictured - Sally-Anne Russell. Photo - Bridget Elliot

Alcina - State Theatre, Melbourne - December 3, 2007

Alcina

John Slavin, Reviewer
December 3, 2007

This is a cast that brings freshness and youth with crisp techniques.

Handel's opera is a fairy tale about a sorceress, Alcina (Rachelle Durkin), who casts a spell on all who come within her ambit and when she tires of these lovers she transforms them into animals or statues. The opera was designed to combine long displays of da capo singing to show off vocal techniques, spectacular stage effects suited to the sorceress's magical interventions, and tangled plots so complicated that they would make daytime soap operas look straightforward.

Director Justin Way and designers Andrew Hays and Kimm Kovac have devised a fixed set: an ornamental baroque frame encrusted with Alcina's victims. It is as exciting as a visit to the British Museum and places a heavy hand on the live action, which seems too in danger of being petrified.

In order to alleviate this effect, Way creates a back projection that plays games with perspective. At one stage we seem to be staring down at Gericault's Raft of the Medusa from above, all squirming naked bodies. At other times a black-clad chorus of demons crawls across music scores and newspapers like ants at a picnic. This device makes the set visually busy but nothing dramatic is happening, and apparently sensing this the director throws one idea after another at the screen to avoid dullness only to see it immediately discarded.

There is no magic in the concept, and sensuality - which is the opera's central concern - has as much chance on this set as a cup of tea at the Windsor acting as an aphrodisiac.

That leaves the music. There are beautiful arias in the score, many of them elegiac laments for unrequited or betrayed love. Orchestra Victoria produces some exquisite support, particularly among the solo accompaniments, but I thought that conductor Antony Walker's tempo often took the music at a walking pace that disadvantaged the singers' slower phrasing.

As Bradamante, a girl who disguises herself as a man to rescue her brother Ruggiero, Alexandra Sherman doesn't seem comfortable in the pants role. It is a difficult part to sing, requiring distinct changes of style to imply the transfer of gender, but her timbre was challenged by her lower chest notes. Catherine Carby showed vocal dash and she caught the right nobility of tone as Ruggiero overcomes bewitchment in the name of a higher love.

The performance of the evening was Durkin's Alcina. She sang the difficult coloratura with vocal panache and good articulation, although the characterisation lacked shade and her attempts to be seductive were as ephemeral as a butterfly.

Of the other principals the singing is good but not great - and Handel's operas, in many cases creaking antiques, require memorable singing. This is a cast that brings freshness and youth with crisp techniques but a lack of depth in interpretation that creates few thrills in spite of the multiple trills.