St John’s, Smith Square
Mirandolina – Siân Dicker
Fabrizio – Samuel Pantcheff
Lena – Rosalind Dobson
Baron Ripafratta – Osian Wyn Bowen
Count of Albafiorita – David Horton
Marquis of Forlimpopoli – Aidan Edwards
Director, designer – Jeremy Gray
Assistant director – Harriet Cameron
Movement – Karen Halliday
Costumes – Pauline Smith, Anne Baldwin
Lighting – Ian Chandler
CHROMA
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| Images: Bampton Classical Opera Baron Ripafratta (Osian Wyn Bowen) and Mirandolina (Siân Dicker) |
My second Salieri opera of the year: it is not so often one has opportunity to say that, although (depending how one counts) it is arguably not my first time either. At any rate, the bicentenary of the composer’s death has afforded opportunities one can only hope will lead to others after this year. Bampton Classical Opera has long been an advocate for Salieri, this its fifth production of one of his operas. This spring, the Salzburg Landestheater’s revival of the 1795 Il mondo alla rovescia proved a revelation. Now BCO has turned to a considerably earlier dramma giocoso, the 1773 La locandiera, written with Domenico Poggi, after Goldoni, when the composer was but a Mozartian 22. (I know I should try to avoid mentioning him in this context, but it rarely proves possible.) Truth be told, this early work is far from a masterpiece, nor do I think it compares with any of his operas, however early, though it may simply be that I know them better and/or am reflecting mere personal preference. La locandiera is, however, competently written, was more than competently performed, and, with what I presume to have been judicious cuts, certainly did not outstay its welcome, affording a cold September London evening a reminder of the departed Cotswold summer in which Jeremy Gray’s production would have seen the light of day at the Bampton Deanery.
Moreover, musical comparisons with Bohuslav Martinů’s frankly trivial Mirandolina, based on the same play and seen at Garsington in 2009, stand very much in Salieri’s favour. I shall admit to having wondered to begin with, both with respect to work and orchestral sound. Whether it was my ears adjusting or something akin to an objective improvement, I am not entirely sure; perhaps it was a little of both. At any rate, it would be churlish to harrumph unduly at the small number of CHROMA players, since the alternative would likewise have been not to hear the opera at all. For the most part, Andrew Griffiths set reasonable and varied tempi, proved supportive to the singers, and vigorous playing imparted a keen sense of drama and onward motion. At least as important, a sense of increasing musico-dramatic involvement, as we got to ‘know’ the characters and their predicament, that sense doubtless born of a duly operatic combination of virtues: work, singing, staging, and orchestral/overall direction.
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| Count of Albafiorita (David Horton), Marquis of Forlimpopoli (Aidan Edwards) |
Gray’s production stood in a recognisably
Bampton line, without in any way seeming off-the-shelf. I suspect the English country
environment helps suggest something of its own ilk: the world of Agatha
Christie, blazers, tennis, and witty one-liners (rather, in Gray and Gilly
French’s translation, rhyming couplets). The transposition fitted well the noble-and-servant
world of Goldoni; it enabled plentiful colour, action – never a dull moment – and
reference in a nicely resourceful staging. A momentary visitation from the future, ‘Se
vuol ballare, signor barone’, rightly raised a few chortles and reminded us how
many opere buffe sprang ultimately from similar soil. That ‘other’ composer
probably came closest, if with considerably greater musical sophistication, in La
finta giardiniera, and the dramatic situation itself probably stands closest
there too. I could not help but think a little more might have been done with
gender and sexuality, as was certainly the case in the Salzburg Mondo alla
rovescia. Baron Ripafratta, suspicious to an absurd degree of women, might have
been ‘unpacked’ a little, as we now like to say. Perhaps, though, there is
something to be said for treating a little-known work more or less straight, as
it were.
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| Lena (Rosalind Dobson), Fabrizio (Samuel Pantcheff) |
I have stressed ‘situation’, because that felt like the beating heart of the evening’s entertainment: not entirely unlike a ‘situation comedy’, albeit without the reruns. From that, though, stock characters could not only step forth, which in able vocal performances they certainly did; they could also perhaps shed a little of their stock nature in the specific magic of actual performance. At the hub was the landlady herself, Mirandolina, in a spirited, properly knowing portrayal by Siân Dicker, well matched in every respect by Samuel Pantcheff’s Fabrizio. Our not-quite, not-yet Susanna and Figaro – ok, I give up for now; teleology wins – displayed excellent chemistry, born equally of stage encounter and lyricism, as well as duly outwitting a trio of male aristocratic buffoons. In their vocalism, though, Osian Wyn Bowen, David Horton, and Aidan Edwards all hinted – without over-egging their respective puddings – at greater frames of reference, not least through excellent line and phrasing. Only on one occasion did one of them sound parted, and that was soon forgotten. Rosalind Dobson’s Lena offered a fine animating presence too; my only regret was that she did not have more to sing. Here, then, on the cusp of autumnal blues, was served a landlady’s lyrical tonic—and far from only that.
