Conductor, Dalia Stasevska; Original Director, Peter Hall; Revival Director and Original Choreographer, Lynne Hockney; Designer, John Bury; Revival Choreographer, Lauren Poulton; Lighting Designer, Paul Pyant; London Philharmonic Orchestra, Trinity Boys Choir. Puck, Oliver Barlow; Oberon, Tim Mead; Tytania, Liv Redpath; Lysander, Caspar Singh; Hermia, Rachael Wilson; Demetrius, Samuel Dale Johnson; Helena, Lauren Fagan; Quince, Henry Waddington; Snug, Patrick Guetti; Starveling, Alex Otterburn; Flute, James Way; Snout, Alasdair Elliott; Bottom, Brandon Cedel; Theseus, Dingle Yandell; Hippolyta, Rosie Aldridge
Another day, another revelation, facilitated by Glyndebourne. I have never really got to know this work in the way I know Peter Grimes, Billy Budd, Turn of the Screw and Death in Venice. This I guess is partly about the productions that were easily viewable in the UK in the period 1969 to 1983 when I was going to music events regularly – there was no MSND production gettable-to that I ever saw of the work in that period (and I wouldn’t have ever contemplated going to the first performance of this production in the early 80’s). Between 1982 and 2010 or so, with the combination of working overseas and young families, I saw very little of anything, and there has only been one production I’ve been to since that time – the ENO production around 10 years ago, set in a grey dark 1950’s prep school which left little in the way of memories or enthusiasm for the work. I have a CD set of this opera, and then an MP3 recording, but have never really played these until I knew I was going to this performance.
Glyndebourne was externally not at its most magical on the day I went – drizzling rain before and throughout the performance; I was on my own, and sat in the interval in one of the few sheltered spots outside not rained on, munching my Pret sandwich and looking out over an entirely deserted lawn and green area – not a picnic hamper in sight. But I am pleased to report that inside the auditorium the atmosphere was absolutely magical.
The reworking of the play by Britten and Pears focuses very much on the fairy world, and less so on the aristocratic humans and the ‘mechanicals’. That gives a tightness to the opera but it does leave the back story a bit loose – you would have to know the play to know who Lysander, Hermia, Demetrius, and Helena were and why they would be running around in the woods; likewise, who on earth Theseus and Hippolyta were when they suddenly pop up towards the end of the work. It’s inevitable, I guess, that something has to be removed to turn this into an opera, and the great advantage of the reworking and emphasis on the fairies is some of the wonderful music Britten was inspired to write for them. I kept asking myself as the evening progressed – why do I not know this music better; why have I not appreciated it more for what it is? The answer, probably, is that I have never seen an effective production of it before. 40 years on, the sets for this production seem very effective. Until the scenes with Theseus and Hippolyta, the scene is the forest, and this is very effectively done, with a dark glittering floor that can sometimes seem as though it has pebbles or ponds, and a darkness that allows you to just about see the trees and bushes, somehow almost alive (and there seem to be lots of stagehands and fairies moving them around) while there is clever lighting for the singers on stage. The fairies glisten in the darkness in black and silver, except for Puck who has a red cap. The general effect is both delightful and also a little sinister – this, I guess, mirrors the way the fairies are to be seen: the familiar Britten theme of innocence distorted or corrupted in some way. Oberon is malicious, motivated by annoyance with Titania – he treats Puck badly at one point, and the latter’s escapades do a lot of human harm. This mix of the sinister and innocence is beautifully captured by the opening, where branches rustle and things move, ambivalent in their meaning. The set for the palace of Theseus and Hippolyta is simply done with a few framed arches and windows, and these melt convincingly back into the darkness at the end of the opera. The costumes for aristocrats and humans is sort of neo-Elizabethan, and the fairies have their own dark and silvery costumes that has some relationship to some of the more extravagant of Elizabeth’s ruffs and dresses
Toe-curling comes easily to me with Britten’s operas, certainly in the works I have known for a long time, so it’s a relief to report that the combination of Shakespeare and Peter Hall removes any trace of tweeness. Puck could be a danger-point, but in fact Oliver Barlow is very effective in this (spoken) role, scurrying around madly with very clear diction. The movement of the characters is easy and natural – things just flow. I thought the scenes with the mechanicals were particularly well done – very funny but not over the top. I had completely forgotten the very funny Donizetti imitations in the Pyramus and Thisbe play, and I think there’s also some fun with something that sounds like Verdi at one point.
The singers were uniformly excellent and had that sense of having worked together and grown into their characters that you get with festivals. Oberon is probably the biggest role and I thought Tim Mead did this very well, with no sense of counter-tenor hooting that can be off-putting. I was particularly taken by Lauren Fagan and Liv Redpath, but all were good. Dalia Staveska seemed to be very effective at creating the right flow for the music – it’s constantly changing in character so can’t be easy to conduct. She never drowned the singers, nothing dragged, and she seems well-liked by both orchestra and audience. I saw her on the train afterwards going back to London, talking animatedly to a group of people – she seems very dynamic and, relatively young, a conductor to watch..
So thank you, Glyndebourne, for giving me two operas to re-assess in two days
John's musical journey 