Scottish Opera, 27/04/2018
Tchaikovsky : Eugene Onegin
The Chorus of Eugene Onegin
Orchestra of Scottish Opera
Stuart Stratford
The curtain rises on an imposing, handsome, but very neglected 19th century salon, with a superb facsimile of a decorative marble floor, two tall French windows to the right, and a large, ceramic-tiled, column stove. An elderly woman, in 20th Century dress, comes in with a suitcase, and for a few moments seems overwhelmed at seeing the place again. She opens the windows, and then opens the door on her memories, for this is, of course, Tatyana, returning, for whatever sad reason, to the haunts of her youth, to relive them all as a silent observer, while her younger self, and all the other characters of the opera, make their appearance in due course. I rather liked this idea, it was evocative without being, for the most part, intrusive, although there were a couple of downsides.
The first, minor, was that it took me a while to establish the period of dress. Old Tatyana (Rosy Sanders, a steady presence who knew how to be discreet without being negligible), as I've said, was wearing an apron-dress over a jumper, in green, and looked fairly distinctly mid-20th Century, maybe just post-WWII. Onegin, when he appeared - on horseback, no less! - was the image of the Regency buck. However, the ladies' dresses, and then the military outfits at the Larins' ball, indicated something more like 1900-1910, which would certainly fit better with Old Tatyana. Putting these memories in the context of earth-shattering social changes, which would have rocked Tatyana's world to the very core, without actually forcing a confrontation between the two, was rather effective. Here was someone who had lived through the Russian Revolution, who had survived the rise of Stalin, and the events of World War II, it immediately told you that Tatyana is a strong character, a survivor - but those 1900s costumes were not flattering to any of the female principals!
The other thing imposed by this presentation was that the chorus was constrained to the rear of the stage - if not off-stage altogether - and behind a scrim that replaced the rear wall of the salon. For the most part, they were barely visible, or appeared more as silhouettes, and more to the point, their distance from the action caused repeated problems of coordination with the orchestra. This was the first night, and it may be a difficulty that will be alleviated progressively as the run continues, but in my experience it's never a great idea to have the chorus so far away from the conductor, even if you have CCTV screens scattered around the wings and rear of the stage (which I presume they do have). Apart from the slippage, the chorus sang well, and there was one passage I've never heard before, between the end of Onegin's first number in Act 3, and the entry of Tatyana in that same scene. Since the chorus was largely static (except for the Waltz), they were 'represented', so to speak, within the salon, by dancing, Eve Mutso, choreographed by Ashley Page (both formerly of Scottish Ballet) first as a peasant woman, and then as an Imperial Theatres ballerina, which was an interesting idea and well executed. Dancing Tchaikovsky always, somehow, seems appropriate. The Waltz was, of course, danced by the principal singers, since that's integral to the plot, while the Schottische of Act 3 was omitted, and the alternative ending to the first scene used instead.
Alison Kettlewell was a startlingly powerful Mme. Larina, almost drowning out Anne-Marie Owens's Filipyevna, and Owens is no vocal shrinking violet herself. However, Owens was suffering from a touch of grit in the throat, which became obvious in the second scene. Here's to a speedy recovery for her, because otherwise she provided a sympathetic portrait of the elderly nanny. Both Sioned Gwen Davies (Olga) and Graeme Broadbent (Prince Gremin) seemed a little stiff in their arias, and this Olga was more of a spoiled brat than I'm used to seeing, which didn't help. In any event, she did not have the warm, cello-like timbre this part requires. Broadbent, on the other hand, also played Gremin with a bit of an edge, and considering that by this point Onegin looked like he had been dragged out the bottom of a barrel, I couldn't blame him. His aria, however, was a bit too tight and constrained. Christopher Gillett delivered a very nicely sung, if somewhat creepy, M. Triquet. Triquet's gushing verses have always seemed a touch oleaginous, and director Oliver Mears merely made it slightly more explicit than usual.
So to the main trio, the Lensky, Onegin and Tatyana, all three of whom are returning artists to the company. Peter Auty made an excellent impression from the outset, the voice bright and sure, some finely graded dynamics, and a warm throb of authenticity to the timbre. One slight falter in the great Act 2 aria, which I put down to first-night nerves, but otherwise this was a youthful and touching Lensky. Samuel Dale Johnson sang Almaviva here a couple of seasons ago, but he didn't make anywhere near the impression he did tonight, with a rich timbre, plenty of expression, and strong visual appeal too - there was no difficulty in imagining a teenage girl falling hard for this handsome man. Only right at the end did he perhaps let the emotion of the part get the better of him, for this was the only point where the orchestra was almost overpowering him. Otherwise, though, he was playing splendidly off Natalya Romaniw's solemn Tatyana, suitably gauche in the earlier scenes, and positively incandescent in the final duet. This is quite a voluptuous sound, that maybe comes across as a little mature for Tatyana's first scene, but quickly convinces of its merits, and the big moments - the Letter Scene, the concertante ensemble at the heart of Act 2, and the final confrontation - were all delivered with great ease and assurance.
However, the last word must go to Stratford and the orchestra, because they were outstanding from start to finish. I'd heard an extract from the opera a few weeks back, and had thought it sounded promising for this set of full performances, and so it proved. Stratford delivered full-throttle Tchaikovsky, with warm, sweet-toned winds, and big, impassioned, sweeps of lyricism in the strings, unabashedly romantic, but never to excess. It's perhaps not ideal to be listening to and for the orchestra more than the singers, but the pleasure in hearing the detail of this beautiful score is irresistible, and set the seal on the success of the evening.
[Next : 28th April]
The Chorus of Eugene Onegin
Orchestra of Scottish Opera
Stuart Stratford
The curtain rises on an imposing, handsome, but very neglected 19th century salon, with a superb facsimile of a decorative marble floor, two tall French windows to the right, and a large, ceramic-tiled, column stove. An elderly woman, in 20th Century dress, comes in with a suitcase, and for a few moments seems overwhelmed at seeing the place again. She opens the windows, and then opens the door on her memories, for this is, of course, Tatyana, returning, for whatever sad reason, to the haunts of her youth, to relive them all as a silent observer, while her younger self, and all the other characters of the opera, make their appearance in due course. I rather liked this idea, it was evocative without being, for the most part, intrusive, although there were a couple of downsides.
The first, minor, was that it took me a while to establish the period of dress. Old Tatyana (Rosy Sanders, a steady presence who knew how to be discreet without being negligible), as I've said, was wearing an apron-dress over a jumper, in green, and looked fairly distinctly mid-20th Century, maybe just post-WWII. Onegin, when he appeared - on horseback, no less! - was the image of the Regency buck. However, the ladies' dresses, and then the military outfits at the Larins' ball, indicated something more like 1900-1910, which would certainly fit better with Old Tatyana. Putting these memories in the context of earth-shattering social changes, which would have rocked Tatyana's world to the very core, without actually forcing a confrontation between the two, was rather effective. Here was someone who had lived through the Russian Revolution, who had survived the rise of Stalin, and the events of World War II, it immediately told you that Tatyana is a strong character, a survivor - but those 1900s costumes were not flattering to any of the female principals!
The other thing imposed by this presentation was that the chorus was constrained to the rear of the stage - if not off-stage altogether - and behind a scrim that replaced the rear wall of the salon. For the most part, they were barely visible, or appeared more as silhouettes, and more to the point, their distance from the action caused repeated problems of coordination with the orchestra. This was the first night, and it may be a difficulty that will be alleviated progressively as the run continues, but in my experience it's never a great idea to have the chorus so far away from the conductor, even if you have CCTV screens scattered around the wings and rear of the stage (which I presume they do have). Apart from the slippage, the chorus sang well, and there was one passage I've never heard before, between the end of Onegin's first number in Act 3, and the entry of Tatyana in that same scene. Since the chorus was largely static (except for the Waltz), they were 'represented', so to speak, within the salon, by dancing, Eve Mutso, choreographed by Ashley Page (both formerly of Scottish Ballet) first as a peasant woman, and then as an Imperial Theatres ballerina, which was an interesting idea and well executed. Dancing Tchaikovsky always, somehow, seems appropriate. The Waltz was, of course, danced by the principal singers, since that's integral to the plot, while the Schottische of Act 3 was omitted, and the alternative ending to the first scene used instead.
Alison Kettlewell was a startlingly powerful Mme. Larina, almost drowning out Anne-Marie Owens's Filipyevna, and Owens is no vocal shrinking violet herself. However, Owens was suffering from a touch of grit in the throat, which became obvious in the second scene. Here's to a speedy recovery for her, because otherwise she provided a sympathetic portrait of the elderly nanny. Both Sioned Gwen Davies (Olga) and Graeme Broadbent (Prince Gremin) seemed a little stiff in their arias, and this Olga was more of a spoiled brat than I'm used to seeing, which didn't help. In any event, she did not have the warm, cello-like timbre this part requires. Broadbent, on the other hand, also played Gremin with a bit of an edge, and considering that by this point Onegin looked like he had been dragged out the bottom of a barrel, I couldn't blame him. His aria, however, was a bit too tight and constrained. Christopher Gillett delivered a very nicely sung, if somewhat creepy, M. Triquet. Triquet's gushing verses have always seemed a touch oleaginous, and director Oliver Mears merely made it slightly more explicit than usual.
So to the main trio, the Lensky, Onegin and Tatyana, all three of whom are returning artists to the company. Peter Auty made an excellent impression from the outset, the voice bright and sure, some finely graded dynamics, and a warm throb of authenticity to the timbre. One slight falter in the great Act 2 aria, which I put down to first-night nerves, but otherwise this was a youthful and touching Lensky. Samuel Dale Johnson sang Almaviva here a couple of seasons ago, but he didn't make anywhere near the impression he did tonight, with a rich timbre, plenty of expression, and strong visual appeal too - there was no difficulty in imagining a teenage girl falling hard for this handsome man. Only right at the end did he perhaps let the emotion of the part get the better of him, for this was the only point where the orchestra was almost overpowering him. Otherwise, though, he was playing splendidly off Natalya Romaniw's solemn Tatyana, suitably gauche in the earlier scenes, and positively incandescent in the final duet. This is quite a voluptuous sound, that maybe comes across as a little mature for Tatyana's first scene, but quickly convinces of its merits, and the big moments - the Letter Scene, the concertante ensemble at the heart of Act 2, and the final confrontation - were all delivered with great ease and assurance.
However, the last word must go to Stratford and the orchestra, because they were outstanding from start to finish. I'd heard an extract from the opera a few weeks back, and had thought it sounded promising for this set of full performances, and so it proved. Stratford delivered full-throttle Tchaikovsky, with warm, sweet-toned winds, and big, impassioned, sweeps of lyricism in the strings, unabashedly romantic, but never to excess. It's perhaps not ideal to be listening to and for the orchestra more than the singers, but the pleasure in hearing the detail of this beautiful score is irresistible, and set the seal on the success of the evening.
[Next : 28th April]