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Helen Bailey (Rosina)
Images: Hana Zushi, Royal Academy of Music |
Sir Jack Lyons Theatre
La Baronessa Irene – Rosalind
Coad
Il Marchese Ernesto – Thomas Elwin
Lisetta – Sónia Grané
Villotto – Nicholas Crawley
Rosina – Helen Bailey
Masino _ Samuel Pantcheff
Il Conte Errico – Stuart Jackson
Rosina’s son – Jude Chandler
Jamie Hayes (director)
Tim Reed (designs)
Jake Wiltshire (lighting)
Royal Academy Sinfonia
Trevor Pinnock (conductor)
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| Nicholas Crawley (Villotto), Il Conte Erico (Stuart Jackson) |
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Il Marchese Ernesto (Thomas Elwin),
La Baronessa Irene (Rosalind Coad), and
Lisetta (Sónia Grané) |
I often fear that I am the
only enthusiast for Haydn’s operas. Quite apart from the questions that raises
concerning one’s sanity, it is heartening to be reminded that I am not quite in
a minority of one. According to Jane Glover’s programme welcome note, Trevor
Pinnock, having conducted La fedeltà
premiata – how I wish I had caught that – in 2009, suggested following that
up with La vera costanza, a proposal
Royal Academy Opera ‘embraced ... with great enthusiasm’. And so it should have
done. This, like many of Haydn’s works, only more so, is an opera whose neglect
does shame to all concerned, superior in almost every way to a good number of
pieces that inexplicably hold the stage. No, it is not written by
we-all-know-who, but apart from that lack of profound characterisation in which
some of the Salzburg composer’s greatest genius lies, Haydn is not entirely
embarrassed by the comparison here, which is more than can be said of many. La vera costanza is at least to be
ranked alongside La finta giardiniera
and in some respects – not least the surprisingly sophisticated ensemble
writing – even looks towards the likes of Figaro.
The likes of the Baroness Irene, Rosina – an unfortunate name in retrospect, I
admit – and Count Errico will not linger in our imaginations; there is no one
remotely akin to Susanna, let alone the Countess, here, but the advanced level
of musical thought is undeniable. Take for instance the canonical writing in
the second act finale, or the opening storm music. The latter cannot boast the almost
psychoanalytical quality to the opening of Gluck’s Iphigénie en Tauride, but it would make an excellent, thrilling,
concert overture, and thrilled even more here in the theatre, in so fine a
performance.
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| Samuel Pantcheff (Masino) and Lisetta |
Part of the problem with
Haydn’s operas seems to be an extension of the general problem Haydn’s music
faces: beloved of all true musicians, it rarely seems to appeal to
non-musicians. Wagner adored Haydn’s music, and increasingly so, often
comparing his symphonic writing favourably to Mozart’s. (A parallel or opposing
error one often comes up against is gross underestimation of Mozart as a
symphonist, on account of his writing being so very different from that of
Haydn and Beethoven, but that is a cause for another day.) I can only assume
that it is a lack of formal understanding that means many listeners simply do
not follow as attentively as they must what Haydn is doing and how he rings his
changes. The strange inability truly to characterise in musical terms remains a
considerably shortcoming, of course, and a shortcoming that cannot be ascribed
simply to formal convention, yet the music is so glorious – that of the opening
scene alone – that one can forgive a lot. Indeed, in order fairly to dismiss
Haydn as an opera composer it would have to be on that basis alone and one
would most likely therefore have to confine oneself exclusively to Monteverdi,
Purcell, Mozart, Wagner, Strauss, Berg, and Janáček. I for one have never
encountered someone who fell into that category.
Trevor Pinnock led a gripping
account of the score by the Royal Academy Sinfonia. I wondered during the
opening storm whether he might be tempted to drive a little harder, a little
too hard, but was delighted to have my fears assuaged. This was a performance
full of life, which yielded where necessary, and which never once failed to
delineate Haydn’s musico-dramatic structures, whether at a micro- or a
macro-level. Only occasionally did I feel the lack of a greater body of strings
(6.6.4.4.2). Those few moments of relative thinness aside, I have nothing but
praise for a stylish, warm, alert performance from all concerned. Chad Kelley’s
harpsichord continuo was also a model of its kind, mercifully free of the
ludicrous exhibitionism in favour in certain quarters.
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| Jude Chandler (Rosina's son) |
Moreover, every member of
this young cast contributed to the overall success, every one of them
contributing something positive. (If only one could say that of most
performances on starrier stages, the contrast with a recent Götterdämmerung being especially
glaring, from the out-of-his-depth conductor down...) Italian pronunciation and
diction were excellent throughout; ability to shape a phrase was equally
apparent. All performances exuded dramatic and musical honesty and
understanding. If I was especially taken with Helen Bailey’s portrayal of the
sentimental – in the eighteenth-century sense – heroine Rosina, abandoned by
the Count as a consequence of the Baroness’s machinations, that was perhaps a
matter of the role as much as anything else, though Crawley has a distinctive
voice which, allied with stage presence, ought to mark her out in the future.
Rosalind Coad and Sónia Grané both entered into their roles with spirit and
style. Thomas Elwin and Nicholas Crawley fashioned finely-honed marriages of
words, music, and gesture, very much with eyes – and ears – for what Haydn’s prodigal
inventiveness requested. Samuel Pantcheff’s Masino showed keen awareness for
the social differentiation of characters in Haydn’s dramma giocoso, whilst Stuart Jackson’s portrayal of the Count,
after a slightly bluff start, blossomed into something rather affecting,
partly on account of his command of the text. Even Jude Chandler delivered his spoken line as Rosina's son in convincing Italian.
The production by Jamie Hayes
was richly rewarding too. It had no especial ‘point’ to make, but keen
direction of the singers, within a somewhat stylised – no pandering to false
naïveté – evocation of eighteenth-century manners proved a perfect setting for
Haydn’s music to work its wonders. This was without a shadow of a doubt the
best live performance I have yet heard of a Haydn opera – and that includes Armida at the Salzburg Festival.
Performances will continue on
22, 23, and 26 November, a second cast alternating with this one.
