Millennium Centre, Cardiff
Mimi – Anita Hartig
Musetta – Kate Valentine
Rodolfo – Alex Vicens
Marcello – David Kempster
Schaunard – Gary Griffiths
Colline – David Soar
Annabel Arden (director)
Stephen Brimson Lewis (designs)
Tim Mitchell (lighting)
Nina Dunn (projections)
Philippe Giraudeau (choreography)
Chorus of the Welsh National Opera
Orchestra of the Welsh National Opera
Carlo Rizzi (conductor)
Puccini, I think it is fair to say, will never be my
favourite composer, but I have always admired his craftsmanship, and find much
of interest in his harmony and his orchestration. Even if I dislike the obvious
emotional manipulation, I used to feel not entirely dissimilarly with respect
to Strauss, and long ago shed most, if not all, my qualms about that. I remain
irked by the obviousness of some of the writing, the lack at times of anything
much beneath the surface, and that seems to me a particular problem with some,
though not all, of La Bohème.
Nevertheless, there is not a single work I have heard by Puccini that I have
not found more interesting than anything by Verdi, let alone Donizetti.
When it came to the Welsh National Opera’s staging, I confess
that I had failed to do my homework beforehand. Upon seeing Annabel Arden’s
offering, I therefore initially assumed it to be a venerable old production,
very much on its last legs and was astonished to discover that this was in fact
the first night of a new production. It was allegedly updated to Paris
just before the outbreak of the Great War, but frankly, I doubt that anyone
would have noticed had it not been pointed out. Apparently, the different hats
– I am not making this up – gave away the slight updating. Quite what the point
was eluded me, especially if one required an advanced diploma in millinery
studies to appreciate it. For really, this resembled on stage the most overtly ‘traditional’
production one could imagine. The size of the garret was frankly ludicrous:
surely any director and designer would wish to go beyond Zeffirelli; it is not,
after all, difficult to advance beyond the utterly mindless. And when one appears
not to have the resources to put anything in the space, one ends up with
Zeffirelli-lite.
More seriously, it was difficult to discern even the
slightest glimmer of an idea in Arden’s
approach. WNO might as well have stuck with what it had before. O for the
directorial ingenuity integrity of a Peter Konwitschny to make itself felt in
such repertoire… (Stefan Herheim has mounted a highly-regarded Bohème in Oslo.)
It would have the added benefit of annoying, probably even scandalising, all
those people who attend ‘the opera’ for all the wrong reasons. Doubtless they
were appeased on this occasion. I suspect, however, that they would have been
as mystified as I was as to why, in an otherwise hyper-‘traditional’
production, a man dressed as a monkey appeared at the Café Momus. As for the projections
between scenes, they at best resembled a computer screen saver: a waste of
time, effort, and doubtless money.
Carlo Rizzi, a former Music Director, conducted ably enough,
but this was not a memorable orchestral account. A considerable amount of first
two acts sounded a little on the ‘light’ side, more akin to a certain school
of Mendelssohn performance. That
was doubtless partly a matter of the orchestra, which at times simply did not
have the necessary reserves of string sound on which to fall back, though on other
occasions, it acquitted itself rather well, the woodwind in particular. However, it was difficult not to
long for the Vienna Philharmonic, and/or for Karajan. Rizzi’s pacing was fine
for the most part, although the fourth act dragged, even if that is partly a
matter of the score.
The ladies for the most part fared better than the
gentlemen. (I am afraid I cannot offer a full cast list, since I did not buy a
programme and WNO’s website only identifies the principals.) Anita Hartig was for
the most part a touching Mimi. She certainly has a beautiful voice, though her
tuning sometimes went a little awry. Kate Valentine’s Musetta was perhaps the
most captivating portrayal, a slight edge, especially during the second act, differentiating
her nicely from Mimi. Indeed, the lilt, expertly judged, to Valentine’s
rendition of ‘Quando me’n vo’ imparted character and sheer enjoyment in equal
measure. Increased warmth of tone during the fourth act was apt and telling.
Alex Vicens’s Rodolfo was not bad, though at times it veered dangerously close
to a not very successful, indeed considerably underpowered, parody of
Pavarotti, the sobs irritating beyond measure. If Puccini’s music is to be
taken seriously, then that sort of bad tradition really ought to be stamped
upon. David Kempster’s Marcello was sung well enough, but it was difficult to
overlook his relative maturity, appearing more like a kindly great-uncle than a
young artist.
The principal disappointment, however, remained Arden’s
staging, a missed opportunity indeed. I remain hopeful that my next Bohème, in Salzburg this summer, will offer more, or at least some, food for thought. Perhaps it
will persuade me that there is more dramatic continuity than I have been able
to discern so far; at any rate, it will have the Vienna Philharmonic, Daniele
Gatti, Anna Netrebko, and a director whose words at least give the impression
of having considered what relevance this dangerously sentimental opera might yet retain.
