Opera North: Otello. Verdi. Grand Theatre, Leeds.

The Grand Theatre stands on Upper Briggate. As one of the jewels in the city’s crown it is easy to imagine that this temple for cultural ceremony might invoke feelings of jealousy in neighbouring metropolitan inhabitants. In this light it seems rather appropriate that it should house Verdi’s interpretation of Othello, in which jealousy is teased out centre-stage. However, where mild, inter-city rivalry is used mainly as a source for light, civic humour, the emotion depicted on stage was profoundly sinister. The villain of the piece is Iago (David Kempster), who, having had his chances for promotion thwarted by Otello’s favourite, Cassio (Michael Wade Lee), seeks to bring him down along with the ‘Lion of Venice’ himself. Iago convinces Otello, with great cunning, of his wife, Desdemona’s (Elena Kelessidi) infidelity with Cassio. The end result is that Otello (Ronald Samm) murders Desdemona, and then, on discovering the falsity of his suspicions, commits suicide.

Samm convinced of one in torment with much head clasping and energised outbursts of suppressed rage. His body language imparted the extreme emotional shifts to and from trusting tenderness and the writhing distress of paranoia. Vocally he was extremely powerful and was never overpowered by the orchestra. This lent greater impact to the outbursts of paranoia and jealous fury along with stentorian affirmations of authority. He had great presence and charisma. When giving vent to such negative, unattractive sentiment a peculiar mode of expression was employed: he did not apply vibrato in the extremity of his upper register. This gave the most apparently heartfelt, high-pitched expressions a more tortured feel. It is not clear whether this was an intended technique or an incapacity. In the Love Duet it was inappropriate. Neverless, it was at least a highly effective method for conveying torment.

As for the tormentor, Kempster’s interpretation spoke well of Iago’s cynicism and bitterness. Breaking the fourth wall in soliloquy, his hatred of Otello was clearly stated with great venom. Here, Verdi makes him a devotee of Satan. Kempster’s vocal performance was finely controlled and sinister with sonorous and vindictive masculinity. A laudable detail in the production compounded his role of manipulator: at one point he stands high above a tormented Otello looking through a window as though he were a literal puppeteer. Kempster resisted well the pitfall of becoming comic or pantomimic, not only with the convincing and well-controlled vocal expressions of bitterness, but with his authoritative presence.

It was a real treat to hear Elena Kelessidi. In the love duet, she seemed to strike the balance beautifully between passion and sweetness, and that old-fashioned sort of uxurial dutifulness. What came across as great control and sensitivity of interpretation was most evident in the ‘Hail Mary’ where devotion and humility were imparted with grace. This finely executed aria warranted applause, and many in the audience attempted it. However, it would seem that Otello is a Verdi opera composed in his later years and therefore there was no room for it. This was not one of those Verdi operas that progresses with clear lines drawn between arias and intervening choruses and recitatives. And in the orchestral accompaniment to the arias there was no foot-tapping ‘um cha’ interplay. The music was much more flowing and continuous (possibly reflecting the influence of Wagner).

However, this musical continuity without punctuation was highly effective as a way of creating a sense of oppressive claustrophobia – there was no escape from Otello’s mental torment. The sense of claustrophobic, jealous paranoia was heightened by wonderful lighting, costume and the set. The overall impression was of coolness brought with the general blue colouring, creating an.oppressive feeling of corporate sterility. It is possible that this contrived effect was the result of the influence of cinematography. The historical context lent to the production was the Mediterranean around the time of the Second World War. This worked well as a piece of historical context – nothing in the libretto jarred with it. Choruses raised the hair on the back of the neck with great power over an orchestra that unfalteringly supported a production full of darkness.