On Thursday I went to Dvorak’s ‘Rusalka’ at Glyndebourne, which was, I thought, very good indeed – 5 star stuff. It’s a fairy tale, with a mermaid creature giving up her tail and ability to swim to fall in love with a human, who then betrays her. I find it a very haunting work – the music is understated but quietly and beautifully lyrical, and the translation used in the surtitles made the work sound contemporary- a damaged young woman looking for affection and being exploited, with some measure of forgiveness for the man at the end that he may or may not deserve. In terms of the production, while there were plenty of directorial touches that expressed an engaged and creative presence, the basic approach was to ‘tell the story’, and leave the implications and undertones to speak to the individuals watching the opera. The only other time I’ve seen ‘Rusalka’ before was at the ENO in the early 80’s when the staging had been as a giant Victorian Nursery, with quite heavy Freudian overtones, from what I can dimly recall. I doubted during the performance if I would ever see it again and felt it was a relief it was a straightforward presentation – but I’ve just realised there’s a new production at ENO in March 2020 – well worth going to see, though how the production will be, goodness knows – the same mezzo sings the Witch in both productions. It is the sort of work Directors can get very carried away with. There were strange echoes – certainly in words and drama, occasionally even in the music – of the Rhinemaidens and Erde (the latter relating to Jezibaba the Witch). Mahler apparently liked the work and conducted it in the early 1900’s – it comes from that Viennese/ Secession / Freudian world, I think. It’s very far removed from the happy folky world of Dvorak’s 8th symphony, say, although there are a couple of folk dances within it.
The basic set was for Acts 1 and 3 a curved set with a symbolic pool at its centre and the second act used a kind of catwalk downstage and a rectangular box at the rear for the marriage celebrations. Costumes were standard East European folky for the most part, with some almost-can-can dancing wood sprites, but Rusalka had a modern tight short dress and her father glowed an unearthly green. There are some spectacular coups de theatre – eg Rusalka’s sisters, who descend from the flies with 20 ft tails.
Sally Matthews, as Rusalka was a fabulous singing actor – looking youthful, moving well, and she projected the sexual desire in the role effectively – at one point she rips off her knickers to have sex with the Prince on the floor of the wedding celebrations, before shamefacedly having to put them on again when the guests arrive. A strange aspect of the role is that with the Prince she hardly speaks/sings – her, and the opera’s, most famous aria, The Song to The Moon, comes in the first 10 minutes of the work, when she is still part of the mysterious natural world – and so that puts a big focus on the person playing Rusalka to put across her passion for, her obsession with, the Prince, by body movements alone, for most of the 2nd Act. Hers was a totally credible portrayal and very moving – also very good was the Witch, Patricia Bardon, thought a bit soft in tone so that the voice didn’t always ride over the orchestra. The other people I hadn’t heard of – Evan Le Roy Johnson a good Prince, though using a bit too much of the ‘head’ tones at the end, and Alexander Roslavets as Rusalka’s Father, a warm and flowing voice.
The house is surprisingly large – it seats 1200, and has a warm acoustic; a lot of wood. I’ve been there only once before – I found that voices come across clearly; the orchestral sound is warm but doesn’t overwhelm the singers for the most part. I don’t really know the work but Robin Ticciati and the LPO seemed to perform it well, and the music ebbed and flowed in the way it needed to; some beautiful woodwind playing, particularly from the flutes.
I find the Glyndebourne ambience outside irritating – I think for women it’s better; something smart seems to be the only criterion, and that’s fair enough for a festival context. For men, my view is that the emphasis on dinner jackets and black ties is ridiculous – I don’t have a DJ and I don’t want one, and I’m certainly not going to buy one, and there were a few other – though very few – people also, like me, dressed in lounge suits. I am past caring if I stand out….The atmosphere is rather forcedly jolly – a lot of people seemed rather self conscious and I wondered to what extent they were there for the opera, and how much for being ‘seen’. That said, I did hear some informed comments about this and other operas, and there was a refreshing lack of people taking selfies and scrolling down their phones all the time. My friend, like most people, makes an enormous fuss over the picnic with champagne, glasses, plates, folding table and chairs etc etc; completely over the top, in a good way. My heart went out sympathetically to two middle-aged German women sitting next to us who were sitting on a rug, and eating Pret sandwiches; this struck me as far more sensible (and to be fair, didn’t look particularly eccentric in context – Glyndebourne seems pretty tolerant). The weather was beautiful, which helps, of course; the other time I’ve been there it was cold, with occasional lashes of rain, and the wind was blowing in a way that meant you had to clutch your champagne glass for dear life.
When something is done as well as this, you do feel it’s on a different level from standard repertory performances at ENO or Covent Garden; the cast just has more time to work together and know each other, and that comes across in the unforced detailed nature of the acting and the cast interactions- Bayreuth has that same feel…
John's musical journey 