(sung in English, as Jason)
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Image: Richard Hubert Smith
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Britten Theatre, Royal
College of Music
Giasone – Clint van der Linde
Medea – Hannah Pedley
Isifile – Catrine Kirkman
Ercole – Andrew Slater
Apollo/Demo – Peter Aisher
Deifa – Michal Czerniawski
Egeo – John-Colyn Gyeantey
Oreste – Piotr Lempa
Ted Huffman (director)
Samal Blak (designs)
Ace McCarron (lighting)
Old Street Band
Joseph McHardy (conductor)
Once again, one can only
applaud English Touring Opera’s sense of adventure – and commitment. Its autumn
season comprises three Venetian operas: L’incoronazione
di Poppea, Giasone, and Agrippina, all in translation. Francesco
Cavalli’s Giasone, or Jason, offered perhaps the most enticing
prospect: an opera whose historical importance can hardly be gainsaid, and yet
which we rarely have chance to hear. Giasone
came more or less in the middle of the astonishing period from 1639 to 1666, in
which Cavalli composed no fewer than forty operas. This drama musicale to a libretto by the Florentine poet, Giacinto
Andrea Cicognini, their only such collaboration, was the tenth and the most
popular of Cavalli’s stage works, indeed the most frequently performed of all seventeenth-century
operas. Ellen Rosand’s New Grove entry
lists, following the first, 1649 carnival performance
at Venice’s Teatro San Cassione, possible performances in Milan as soon as 1649
and 1650 and in Lucca in 1650; moreover, published libretti attest to revivals,
as Rosand’s list continues, in 1650 (Florence), 1651 (Bologna), 1652
(Florence), 1655 (Piacenza), 1658 (Vicenza), 1659 (Ferrara and Viterbo), 1660
(Milan and Velletri), 1661 (Naples), 1663 (Perugia), 1665 (Ancona), 1666
(Brescia), 1667 (Naples), 1671 (Rome, as Il novello Giasone,
edited by Stradella), 1672 (Naples), 1673 (Bologna), 1676 (Rome, again as Il novello Giasone), 1678 (Reggio), 1685 (Genoa, as Il trionfo
d’Amor delle vendette) and 1690 (Brescia, as Medea in Colco).
Given that the history of seventeenth-century opera is often far more the
history of libretti than music, a surprisingly large number of those
performances have bequeathed scores to us. It may even have reached Vienna, and
though we know nothing of this particular opera having reached English shores,
a score of Cavalli’s Erismena in
English translation suggests some degree of knowledge of the Venetian master’s
œuvre. Such, at any rate, was the fame of Giasone,
that it also became a rare example of an opera inspiring a play rather than the
other way around.
ETO’s production is severely cut, lasting just over
two hours (including an interval), offering slightly less than half of the work,
if one judges by the duration (3 hours, 55 minutes) of the recording by René
Jacobs (so far as I am aware the only such recording). There were times when I
could not help but wonder how much we might have benefited from hearing more,
not simply in musical terms, but also in terms of progression of the plot and
development of characters. By the same token, however, dramatic continuity was for
the most part admirably maintained; one experienced far more than a mere ‘taste’.
We should also do well to remind ourselves that the concept of the musical work
with respect to the seventeenth century is unstable and problematical. We are
not dealing with Tristan und Isolde here.
One loses something in translation, too, no doubt, but Ronald Eyre’s version
proves admirable: rich in vocabulary, as Anthony Hose’s programme appreciation
noted, and in wit.
Such would go for nothing, of course, without
performances to match. I cannot deny my preference for modern instruments.
However, if I may try to leave that upon one side, not least in light of the sad
impossibility of today hearing seventeenth-century-repertoire so performed, the
Old Street Band offered a generally spirited account, intermittent sourness in
the strings notwithstanding. Continuo playing was for the most part colourful
without veering into exhibitionism, Joseph McHardy’s direction of ensemble from
the harpsichord well-paced and alert both to shifts and continuity in register –
that ever-fascinating relationship between aria, recitative, and what comes in
between. As Raymond Leppard once put it, Cavalli, ‘of all his contemporaries,
never lost sight of the early ideals of recitative as a form of intensely
heightened speech which, more than the aria, formed the basis for operatic
effectiveness. And at his best, although in a different way from Monteverdi,
his arias and ariosos grow out of and merge into the recitative-like jewels set
in a crown, but not separate from it.’ And in Rosand’s words, this time in the
programme, the arias of Giasone, ‘are
specifically justified by the dramatic circumstances: rather than undermining
verisimilitude, they promote it.’ Both
of those observations fitted very well with my experience in the theatre, no mean
feat.
The singers must also take a great deal of credit
for that. Clint van der Linde pulled off very well the tricky task of
portraying a compromised, even at times weak, character without vocal
compromise or weakness. Indeed, his countertenor Giasone offered a fascinating
blend of vocal strength and character fragility. Hannah Pedley and Catrine
Kirkman proved just as successful as his twin loves, Medea and Isifile:
credible characters of flesh and blood, emotionally as well as dramatically
convincing. The travesty role – always popular in Venetian opera of this time –
of Delfa offered another opportunity for a countertenor to shine, in this case
Michal Czerniawski. Piotr Lempa displayed to good effect his deep bass as
Oreste, though some of his vowels went a little awry. Peter Aisher, a Royal
College of Music student, was a late replacement for an ailing Stuart Haycock
as Apollo and Demo; he took a little time to get into his stride, the Prologue
being somewhat barked, but as time went on, showed considerable musical and
theatrical ability.
Ted Huffman’s production mostly lets the action
speak for itself. I was not quite convinced by the mishmash of styles in terms
of designs, whilst appreciating his aim ‘to create a world that is neither
classical nor contemporary, but rater an invented world, constructed from
recognisable historical elements’. Abstraction might have worked better in that
case, for inevitably one begins to wonder why someone is dressed in clothes of
a certain period and someone else in those of another. Yet such matters do not
really distract, and the conversion of Samal Blak’s set for the first act into
that for the second proves both economical and dramatically effective. The decay
of Lemnos during the absence of the ‘hero’ and the waiting of his wife is instantly,
powerfully conveyed. Stage direction is for the most part keenly observed, the balance
between comedy and darker emotion well handled. Documentation is excellent too, the programme
offering a general essay by Guy Dammann, as well as individual pieces on the
three operas of the season.
ETO’s autumn tour takes in London, Rochester,
Snape, Malvern, Crediton, Bath, Harrogate, Durham, Newcastle, Buxton,
Sheffield, Warwick, Cambridge, and Exeter. Click here for details.
