Author: danpotts

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La Traviata. Verdi. Opera North. Leeds Grand Theatre.

  • by danpotts

An overwhelming sense of inevitable tragedy was the abiding memory of Opera North’s La Traviata. It is the story of Violetta, a courtesan whom we observe is enjoying the Parisian high-life. She falls in love, but, owing to the consequences of her past life, what is apparently her only chance of real love is sacrificed. The music is by Verdi; and this is his most popular opera. His musical style changed ever so slightly over his life, but there is no mistaking it. The course of the music is not continuous and flowing, but proceeds in a punctuated way: very much musical number by musical number. We might have a chorus number, then an aria, or song; it might be for one person, or a duet, or for several of the principal singers, and perhaps sometimes with the chorus included.

 The orchestral accompaniment to Verdi’s arias and choruses is highly distinctive, because it is very ‘um-cha’, or ‘um-cha-cha’. This might be called a regulated, bass-treble antiphony. The ‘um’ is the low down in pitch (bass) and ‘cha’ is higher in pitch (treble). The result of this method is highly effective in conveying drama in a highly stylised way. It sounds almost jolly, or dance-like at times; at other times, it can sound somewhat militaristic. As a stylistic method it is so powerful because the principal singer, singers or chorus, might be expressing negative emotion, while the accompaniment and overall sense of the music sounds positive. The result is an almost disturbing sense of irony. There is some detachment that we feel, while being at the same time very much engaged by it. The audience can therefore get the feeling that they are observers in the dance of life. Another musical thing that Verdi does is to change the overall musical feel, whether positive or negative (or major or minor) to the opposite of that without warning. All of this transmits the drama with grace.

The setting, or historical context of this production is Belle Epoque Paris. The chorus display debauched behaviour: it is all partying and hedonism. During the overture, which is a piece of music for the orchestra before the singing begins, the audience were given the view of the stage with a large circular screen placed centrally in it. This screen received video projections. At first the projection was a microscopic lens view of the tuberculosis that it would transpire afflicted our heroine. Following this view came an endoscopic one: actual lung tissue was on display. During these medical-themed projection, our Violetta posed with statuesque elegance below the screen in silhouette. We were therefore presented with Violetta’s beauty juxtaposed with a warts-and-all view of her health. This was a strong indication that the gender stereotyping of a courtesan was an injustice that would not be ignored. As much was confirmed by the detail of on the advertising campaign posters for this production. Words such as ‘Temptress’, ‘Victim’ and ‘Saint’ appeared beneath a picture of of heroine on these posters.

When Violetta played the hostess at the debauched Parisian parties in Act I of the opera, the night sky was the projection shown in the circular screen. At another time, the moon was the circular projection, with all its cross-cultural feminine associations. When Violetta hears the expression of love for her by the character, Alfredo Germont, she recollects her former innocence and allows herself the possibility that she might fall in love – here the circular disc reflects her mood and turns a pure white. In Act I, scene 1, no disc is to be found. The backdrop is a bright blue sky: she is in peaceful partnership with her lover. Act II, scene two, sees matters turn for the worse and a large-scale clock face in the background indicates the sense of fated inevitability about the oncoming tragedy. In Act III,the circular screen returns. It seemed that the circular projector screen appeared in those portions of Violetta’s story when she is, in the eyes of the men in her life, a reflection of thir ideas about her. Only during the brief peaceful partnership with Alfredo was she seen for who she was. Such was confirmed by the hauntingly ironic, slow-motion applause of masked revellers afetr her death, indicating that her life had been a performance.

How was this so convincingly achieved? Hye-Youn Lee was cast in the role of Violetta and convinced of the whole and entire, multi-faceted woman. Her voice conveyed a dark warmth and was controlled with excellent measure and grace. An impression of ease was made during even the most demanding of complex musical passages. Opposite her, in the role of Alfredo Germont, was Ji-Min Park. At first glance, he appeared not to transmit the charisma that one might expect necessary to woo our Violetta. However, the character of Alfredo Germont is one detached from the debauchery of the high-life with emotional depth: a caring character, for which Park was well cast. One of the highlights of the opera was the finale to Act II. Park’s portrayal of guilt here was heartfelt and highly impressive. Roland Wood was in the role of Giorgio Germont. An extremely rich voice coupled with measured dramatic performance convinced of the authoritative patrician confined by financial circumstance and respectability. The chorus and orchestra were, as usual at Opera North, impeccable, expressive and extremely tightly kept.

Articles

Festival of Britten. Peter Grimes. Opera North.

  • by danpotts

A tragedy of madness, hypocrisy, scapegoating and the claustrophobia of psychological repression. These elements were present with great force and deep impact on Saturday as Opera North opened its Festival of Britten with Peter Grimes. Such factors were to be found, of course, in the narrative; and in the chromatically shifting modal scheme with occasional shafts of bright, diatonic relief. However, the production design (Anthony Ward) in tandem with Phyllida Lloyd’s direction conveyed the same with oppressively bare austerity.

A large fishing net suspended from above and held open engulfed the chorus. Thus enclosed, ‘the borough’ were lent an amorphous mob identity at times devoid of individual difference. The local society surrounding the protagonist was to be seen as Grimes saw them. The repression imparted through Britten’s score compounded the up-tight, claustrophobic veneer of respectability that made this chorus in character a powderkeg. Where the net also tapped into the maritine context, the backdrop, which extended to the sides and corners of the set, depicted a greyish seascape, threatening with its blandness. An ingenious employment of duckboards allowed formal delineations to take shape when Aunty’s pub or the kangaroo court was in focus.

Jeffrey Lloyd-Roberts’ Grimes convinced of the complexity of the character with great verve. An analysis of his portrayal of Grimes in which acting performance and vocal proficiency are regarded separately would seem redundant: the two were seamless. It is an excellent casting. Here, his Grimes came across with an abiding innocence that is contorted into a false cynicism by the burning flames of lower middle class condemnation. The essence of this beleaguered purity was transmitted best by Lloyd-Roberts in Grimes’ aria ‘The Great Bear and Plaiedes’. Grimes’ desire to achieve great wealth and respectability was conveyed with that same innocence and false cynicism by the purity of  Lloyd-Roberts’ instrument. Such was compounded further by the apparent contrary nature of his frame, which is considerable. Laudable for its terrifying audacity was the moment when Grimes holds the dead apprentice aloft. Grime’s ‘mad scene’ was as disturbing as could have been intended. Lloyd-Roberts convinced of mental crisis. The pitfall resisted well was unintended comedy: no mean achievement.

High praise is due to Robert Hayward. His Captain Balstrode imparted measured maturity. His control and sonority – very exacting – conveyed the well-roundedness of the character to an impression of genuine masculinity. Where the character’s humanity toward Grimes amounted to the individual ability to think independently of a crowd, Hayward’s interpretation was a model of charisma.

Hypocritical, zealous accusation and gossip were at times comic in the interpretations of Mark Le Brocq (Bob Boles) and Rebecca de Pont Davies (Mrs. Sedley). Whether intended or not, these occasional forays into levity supplied a degree of relief and introduced an extra facet of the mundane with which to compare the overall tragedy. This lent perspective and threw light upon the degree to which apprently harmless gossip and rumour can be injurious.

Giselle Allen’s Ellen Orford spoke of great humanity both vocally and in acting performance. Maternal and uxorial profundity flooded the auditorium. From honeyed depths to heartfelt and deploring  resistence against castigation the impression was convincing. Perhaps Allen’s most engaging moment was during the Septet: on the repeated phrase ‘Hard hearts!’ I became swathed in a layer of goosebumps.Britten’s score was conveyed here, particularly by Allen, with upmost sense of tragedy. Indeed, all of the ensemble work, which is at times very difficult to execute with an overall aural impression of regulation, was a marvel of concerted spruceness. The piece ‘Old Joe has gone fishing’ was performed with an unexpected lightness. The temptation for the performer to oversing in this piece in order to mark separate passages rhythmically was not detectable.

The only negative, with the exceptions of Lloyd-Roberts and Hayward, was lapses in clarity of diction. Meaning was sometimes lost by principals and chorus. This was not an issue of balance. The opera is firm in the repertoire, but there will always be newcomers to an Opera North audience. One of their great strengths is the broadening of access to the tradition. Demanding, and, at times, counter-intuitive music such as this may result in such lapses. The danger for the newcomer to the audience is confusion in respect of the narrative. It might have been better to employ the televisual display screens used for the translations of non-English libretti.

The most irksome moment preceded choral catharsis. When mob rule ensues, imflamed by mounting gossip and rumour, raw savagery breaks out. In this production a very weird and well-crafted effigy of Grimes is brandished above the mob. Where the chorus reach their climax, the blood runs cold with apprehension. Moments of fine tenderness and vulnerability are experienced alongside such burning fury.