(sung in English)
Coliseum
Marcello – George van Bergen
Rodolfo – David Butt Philip
Colline – Barnaby Rea
Schaunard – George Humphreys
Benoît, Alcindoro – Andrew Shore
Mimì – Angel Blue
Parpignol – Philip Daggett
Musetta – Jennifer Holloway
Policeman – Paul Sheehan
Foreman – Andrew Tinkler
Jonathan Miller (director)
Natascha Metherell (revival
director)
Isabella Bywater (designs)
Jean Kalman, Kevin Sleep
(lighting)
Chorus of the English
National Opera
Orchestra of the English
National Opera (chorus master: Genevieve Ellis)
Gianluca Marcianò (conductor)
Jonathan Miller’s production
of La bohème for ENO, shared with
Cincinnati Opera, sits uneasily, at least as revived by Natascha Metherell,
between comedy and tragedy. Perhaps, you might say, that is as it should be;
there is certainly an element of taste in such matters. However, it seems to me
that a highly creditable desire to explore the darker elements – and they are
hardly difficult to find! – in Puccini’s opera is somewhat undone by moments
closer to farce. The greyness of an imagined Paris inspired by Cartier-Bresson
works very well, Isabella Bywater’s designs in themselves a great visual strength,
waiting to be relieved by brief, or at least relatively brief, moments of
colour. Café Momus makes a particular impression in that respect. However, I
could not help but wonder whether some of the things – entrances, concealment,
and so on – one sees going on around the sets would be better left unseen.
Elements of ‘surprise’ – yes, many of us know the opera all too well, but that
is a different matter – are lost, without the ‘workings’ adding anything genuinely
new. Still, it is a relief not to have anything too sugary; the last thing
Puccini of all composers needs is sentimentalising. Doubtless I have been
spoilt by seeing Stefan Herheim’s urgently compelling version on DVD: the only
staging of this work that has really revealed anything at all to me.
Recommended to Puccini-lovers and –sceptics alike, indeed to anyone who
believes that opera can and should be something more than a tired museum piece.
A few more serious drawbacks
prevented the evening from having had the impact it might have done. Amanda
Holden’s translation started off poorly and, if anything, got worse. It managed
both to be vaguely ‘after’ the libretto and dreadfully anti-musical. Italian
suffers worse than most languages by translation into English, but the task can
be accomplished much better than this. This was a version only for those who
might think there is something ‘edgy’ about people randomly singing the word ‘bastards’.
But then, perhaps a selfish – or hard-of-hearing? – audience happy to applaud
throughout, and indeed before the orchestra had stopped playing at the ends of
acts was genuinely enthralled or even shocked by such banalities. Moreover,
Gianluca Marcianò’s charmless conducting helped nothing or no one. The first
act in particular seemed devoid of life. I struggled in vain to hear anything
throughout the evening that would vindicate Puccini’s symphonic ambition.
Instead, phrases followed one after another, quite unconnected. The ENO
Orchestra, on generally excellent form, both pointed and luscious where
permitted, deserved far better.
So too did the cast: probably
the principal reason to catch this revival. There was a good sense of ensemble
between the singers, which will doubtless only increase as the run progresses. Individually,
there is much to admire too. David Butt Philip really presented Rodolfo as a credible
character, not a mere opportunity to sing. The conflicts within his soul, cowardice
and self-absorption vying with a genuine if ‘poetic’ aspiration towards
something nobler, came across with considerable subtlety. Angel Blue seemed
slightly stilted to start with, but quickly grew into the role of Mimì. Her
vocal allure is by now reasonably well known; it did not disappoint. However, a
little more attention at times to words and their implications would have
deepened the impression. If George von Bergen was somewhat stiff as Marcello,
the other students impressed; Barnaby Rea’s Colline and the Schaunard of George
Humphreys helped to create a proper sense of milieu and preoccupation from
which Rodolfo could emerge. Jennifer Holloway’s Musetta very much looked the
part, but the top of her range proved uncomfortably strident, even squally.
Andrew Shore, however, proved luxury casting as Benoît and Alcindoro, vivid
portrayals them both.
