Royal Opera House (viewed at Curzon Mayfair)
Hoffmann – Vittorio Grigòlo
Four Villains – Thomas HampsonOlympia – Sofia Fomina
Giulietta – Christine Rice
Antonia – Sonya Yoncheva
Nicklausse – Kate Lindsey
Spalanzani – Christophe Montagne
Crespel – Eric Halfvarson
Four Servants – Vincent Ordonneau
Spirit of Antonia’s Mother – Catherine Carby
Nathanael – David Junghoon Kim
Hermann – Charles Rice
Schlemil – Yuriy Yurchuk
Luther – Jeremy White
Stella – Olga Sabadoch
John Schlesinger (director)
Daniel Dooner (revival director)
William Dudley (set designs)
David Hersey (lighting)
Maria Björnson (costumes)
Eleanor Fazan (choreography)
Royal Opera Chorus (chorus master: William Spaulding)
Orchestra of the Royal Opera, Evelino Pidò (conductor)
Oh dear! One might travel far
before seeing so dramatically inert a production of anything. ‘Revived’ –
hardly the mot juste here – by Daniel
Dooner, pretty much the only saving grace accompanying this ancient staging by
John Schlesinger was the news that it will be its last. In vain did one seek
for irony. Offenbach’s taste and wit, it seemed, had been paid off, with a
generous settlement. Indeed, one sensed that one Manhattan-based master of ‘settlements’
and theatrical criticism would have approved, together with his chums in the
bizarre ‘Against Modern Opera Productions’ group. As for the edition used, the
less said the better, but imagine the outcry if Bruckner performances were
still being given in the Schalk ‘versions’, perhaps with a few odds and ends
thrown in for the hell of it. This, as Mahler would have put it, was tradition
as Schlamperei.
For the designs – there is
nothing more to the production, certainly no hint of a critical stance, let
alone a Konzept – speak of vulgar
ostentation. Although ostensibly set when it ‘should’ be, earlier in the
nineteenth century, this looked more like a Second Empire recreation, albeit
one that had seen better days. The Palais Garnier is a thing of wonder; if you
are going to do ‘style of Napoleon III’, then go all out for it. This, however,
is not; it is merely tedious. If the æsthetic aspired to Donald Trump, it ended
up being more minor West End musical. If ‘lavish’, for some unfathomable
reason, is the first word that comes to mind when you think of Offenbach, then
I suppose you might have liked this, but surely anyone would have baulked at
the bizarre, am-dram over-acting of some members of the chorus. Perhaps that was
a matter of cinematic close-up, but it was at best an occasion, well-taken
(unfortunately) for laughter. At any rate, for an evening that dragged so, I
was grateful to be seated in the comfort of the Curzon Mayfair rather than
squeezed into the Royal Opera House’s Amphitheatre.
That it dragged was also the
fault of Evelino Pidò’s leaden conducting. There was no lightness, no air, no
direction, just endless plodding through. Offenbach’s musical drama – and I am
far from convinced he is at his most successful in this work – is a delicate
flower. The score simply sounded suffocated.
At least the singing was
better. Vittorio Grigòlo’s untiring commitment put me in mind of Roberto
Alagna, although vocally, Grigòlo was certainly more secure than his mercurial
counterpart can sometimes be. Stylistically, his voice and manner are perhaps
not ideal, but there was much to be enjoy. (As you will have guessed, I took
what I could.) Kate Lindsey impressed greatly as Nicklausse, in a stylish,
equally committed performance. She can act too, and did. Christine Rice’s Giulietta
brought a touch of vocal opulence. It was neither unwelcome nor inappropriate,
tempered as it was with taste, quite unlike its scenic equivalent (For her act,
Schlesinger seemed to have in mind, quite without irony, or indeed without
eroticism, the world of ‘vintage’ soft porn. Again, laughter ensued.) Sofia
Fomina handled the challenges of Olympia’s coloratura with ease, and portrayed
the very particular acting challenges of her doll’s role convincingly. Sonya Yoncheva’s
Antonia was sincere enough, but it sounded as if she would have been happier
singing Verdi. Catherine Carby’s brief appearance as her mother brought much
needed relief. Thomas Hampson’s performances suggested that his voice is now
seriously beyond repair. Not only, as one might have suspected, did the lower
notes lie awkwardly for him; so did many at the top too. Smaller roles were
taken well; David Junghoon Kim’s Nathanael caught my ear.
As theatre, though, this was strictly for those who like to applaud scenery. And even they might have preferred to check into a certain Washington hotel for the real thing.