The Rape of Lucretia, Royal Academy of Music, 13 May 2025

Susie Sainsbury Theatre

Tarquinius (Oliver Heuzenroeder), Collatinus (Pavel Basov), Junius (Harrison Robb)
Images: Craig Fuller

Director – Paul Carr
Costumes – Michelle Bradbury
Lighting – Jake Wiltshire

Female Chorus – Madeleine Perring
Male Chorus – Yihui Wang
Lucretia – Ella Orehek-Whitford
Tarquinius – Oliver Heuzenroeder
Collatinus – Pavel Basov
Junius – Harrison Robb
Bianca – Viktoria Melkonian
Lucia – Ellie Donald

Royal Academy Sinfonia

Lada Valešová (conductor)

Male Chorus (Yihui Wang)

Hot on the heels of HGO’s Rape of Lucretia has come another excellent young-artist production, this time from Royal Academy Opera. (English Touring Opera also gave performances, here in London and elsewhere, in November.) It is for me one of Britten’s stronger works, the sometimes excessive wordiness of Ronald Duncan’s libretto notwithstanding; this opportunity to see it again so soon, not so much to compare as to experience it from another, related standpoint, was readily taken.

Paul Carr’s production puzzled me at first, probably because I had come with overly realist expectations to something that unfolded with a more abstract aesthetic, indeed aestheticism. What seemed to be a punk-meets-S&M look for the beginning of the first act, soldiers meeting on an edgy, even dangerous street, turned out not to be a setting as such, but rather a look, contrasted with a more Roman sense, achieved more through lighting than costumes, for the domestic sphere of Lucretia’s villa. Not that there was anything much here as a set: this focused on the characters, their deeds, and their interactions, all viewed through a prism of black, white, and red, a long red rope both prophetic and eventually summative. In the masculine sphere, Tarquinius was a ‘panther’ indeed, not only ‘agile’ and ‘virile’ but also in thrall to his pleasures and desires—and not necessarily restricted to women. Mad, bad, and definitely dangerous to know, then, in a memorable stage animal portrayal by Oliver Heuzenroeder. 

Lucia (Ellie Donald), Lucretia (Ella Orehek-Coddington), Bianca (Viktoria Melkonian)

Ella Orehek-Whitford’s Lucretia contrasted vividly with his Tarquinius: good, honourable, and with undeniable inner strength, though how could that ever be enough? Her way with words, music, and their combination enabled her fully to inhabit her role. Pavel Basov’s Collatinus was multi-dimensional, to begin with barely distinguishable from the other men, thrust by direst fate into his role as Tarquinius’s antagonist. Harrison Robb’s Junius was, more clearly than usual, the real manipulator, through vocal and stage means alike. (Both characters pointed us to the Roman republican future.) Viktoria Melkonian’s Bianca and Ellie Donald’s Lucia were nicely contrasted in voice, more to the point intelligently sung and acted throughout; likewise Madeleine Perring’s Female Chorus, very much part of the action. For me, though, it was Yihui Wang’s Male Chorus who emerged as first among a team of fine equals, his diction and musical line quite superlative, all a means to a properly ambiguous dramatic end. The production asked much of this cast and received all it asked.

Madeleine Perring (Female Chorus)

The musicians of the Royal Academy Sinfonia proved just as impressive in the pit, incisively led by Lada Valešová. An ensemble of steel that could melt before our ears and the morning Roman sun, it drove and structured the action, ensuring that Britten’s opera for the most part overcame the limitations of its libretto and even hinting that there might be some post-Bachian truth in that problematical claim of redemption at the close. For if Duncan’s work has its problems, it also bears genuine dramatic fruit, especially though not solely in combination with the score—all the more so in so compelling a performance as this.

Carmen, Royal Academy Opera, 19 November 2025

Susie Sainsbury Theatre, Royal Academy of Music

Images: Craig Fuller

Carmen – Charlotte Clapperton
Don José – Woogyeom Kim
Micaëla – Madeleine Perring
Escamillo – Harrison Robb
Zuniga – Theodore McAlindon
Moralès – Alexander Hopkins
Frasquita – Abigail Sinclair
Mercédès – Amy Porter
Remendado – Joseph Hancock
Dancaire – Joel Robson
Lillas Pastia – Joshua Furtado-Mendes

Director – Harry Fehr
Designs – Yannis Thavoris
Lighting – Jake Wilshire
Video – Matt Powell
Movement – Victoria Newlyn

Royal Academy Opera Chorus

Royal Academy Sinfonia

Christopher White (conductor)

A few rays of Andalusian sun would not go amiss right now in the dark, dismal, last half of November. Short of that, Carmen at the Royal Academy offered an alternative: quite an undertaking even for an enterprising conservatoire opera scheme. Given the ways in which voices develop, ‘big’ nineteenth-century repertoire – the description begs questions, yet still holds – tends to be avoided in student performance. Just as young professional voices tend for the most part to steer away from Verdi and Wagner in favour of Mozart, early music, and some modernist repertoire, so do they from Carmen. One can debate whether that is a good thing. Many factors come into play, not least the desire to gain experience in roles for which they might be asked to audition. It made for a nice surprise, then, when the Royal Academy named Carmen as its end-of-term show, all the more so when given with such confidence by all concerned. 

A smaller theatre helped, of course; when does it not? But there was nothing intrinsically small-scale to the performances; rather, they felt suited to the venue. Intimate, perhaps, but only in the sense that the RAM’s Susie Sainsbury Theatre benefits from its size in enabling all to see and hear the performances at relatively close range. Carmen may be an opéra-comique – as we arguably inform ourselves a little too much – but it generally plays to large houses, is performed by large forces, and Bizet was going to write those orchestral recitatives himself anyway for Vienna, death meaning that they instead were composed by his friend Ernest Guiraud. Tragedy need not be large-scale, but this is no piece of froth. Christopher White and the Royal Academy Sinfonia may likewise have been small in scale (strings 4.4.3.3.2) but they did not come across as such, whether in dash, vigour, or a sheen that would have put many a larger (and older) orchestra to shame. White’s pacing of the four acts stressed dramatic immediacy without ever sounding rushed, offering space where needed. This is an opera of the moment, though, and sounded as such. 

Don José (Woogweom Kim) and Carmen (Charlotte Clapperton)

As is generally the case, a mixture of orchestral recitative and dialogue was used, wisely cut, given length and the difficulties of speaking as well as singing in French. Just as in a larger house, some found the language more of a challenge than others, but there was some genuine excellence in that respect and nothing too grievous. If French dialogue was not tenor Woogweom Kim’s greatest strength, it came and went, and vocally he truly came into his own in the second act, a Don José of ardour and vulnerability in tandem. Charlotte Clapperton’s Carmen surely revealed a star in the making: growing like her co-star, fully holding the stage as any Carmen must, through voice and dramatic presence. Madeleine Perring’s sweetly sung Micaëla and Harrison Robb’s already dark Escamillo made much of their roles, as indeed did the rest of the cast, including an enterprising, accomplished chorus depleted by seasonal ailments yet never sounding like it. 

Harry Fehr’s production updated the action and made the occasional nod to contemporary mores. Micaëla’s bag made it clear she was no fun of bull-fighting, which seemed very much in character. It told the story straightforwardly, highlighting in interesting fashion the crucial role of fate, alternative paths portrayed on video, without distracting from the principal action. Once again, then, an excellent evening of opera at the Royal Academy.