Well this was a remarkable and original evening piece of creative theatre – not ‘just’ opera. It was a two-evening compilation work, made up of excerpts from Donizetti’s four Tudor operas, including the very rare Elizabetta al Castello di Kenilworth. There were also, apparently, some passages that had been created by the conductor but they were indistinguishable, to my ears, from the rest. It was designed to give a portrait of Elizabeth, both as a woman, a ruler and a venerated icon – ambitious aims but ones which were, pretty much, fully achieved.
This was a multi-lingual event with three English-speaking narrators (singers too) who were both contemporary historical figures, Robert Cecil, Smeaton and Nottingham, as well as emblematic figures (Reason, Emotion and Theatre respectively). This was an effective conceit that was not overdone but provided an element that was both distancing and yet wholly a part of the world being created on the stage. There were occasional references/allusions to Shakespeare – the usual Cleopatra quotations which, just about, worked The arias were sung in Italian, obviously, while the dialogue was largely in English. This was just one of the many meta-theatrical elements that characterized this whole endeavor. Other aspects of this were the precise references to the place and time of the events unfolding on the stage at the start of the two parts of this epic work. The historical background was clearly filled in, although I probably had a considerable advantage in having a UK background and so all aspects of the story were very familiar. It reached back to Henry VIII (psychodramas always go back to Daddy!) as he, and Elizabeth’s mother Anne Boleyn were significant if not constant presences dramatically and emotionally throughout. Henry was also watching from a side box for much of the performances, a reminder of his overwhelming presence, personally and politically. The action also spread into the theatre at times (see later remarks on the set) with some characters passing through the audience or placed in front of the orchestra pit that was occasionally traversed by characters. This happened most notably in the spectacular coronation of Elizabeth - just one of the ways we were frequently reminded of the artificial theatricality of what we were seeing.
The set was very plain. All was in black and there was a large curved backdrop with a large circle on the stage floor (very 60’s Wieland Wagner) along with 6 pillars. These were moveable and had changing surfaces, spectacularly in some of Part 2 being mirrored. They also had periodic projections on them which often matched those on the looming backdrop. At times, particularly in the opening with the child Elizabeth enacting her father’s marital relationships with dolls centre and front stage, this was also projected in close up on this screen. This large screen was very effectively used to emphasize the iconic nature of the ruler Elizabeth with her face, gradually getting more mask-like as the drama unfolded and looming over the action on the forestage. An effective demonstration of her power. It was also well used in a scrappy looking filmed scene showing the death of Amy Robsart, which gave, momentarily, a Film Noir air to the proceedings.
Dramatically, a very central conceit was to have tow Elizabeth’s – the iconic adult, played by a singer and Elizabeth the child who also acted as the Queen’s inner voice, her conscience, an historical reminder of her childhood. This was very effective and was perhaps the key element that made the entire evening/drama so involving. Sometimes bel canto works can be less than convincing as dramas but here, with this technique, this was never the case. It also, of course, allowed us to see the human behind the mask and icon – and as she aged, the adult Elizabeth became more and more her role and an icon rather than a human being, this being wonderfully reflected in her increasingly elaborate costumes, sometimes but not always, mirrored by her younger, inner self. But she always had her inner voice and her humanity. This was rather wonderfully shown at the very end where she divested herself of her robes (the superb, historically accurate and ever-increasingly elaborate costumes, particularly of Elizabeth were some of the visual highlights of the two evenings). She was left in a plain shift with just the elaborate framework of the farthingale around her and she crouched down in this ‘cage/prison’ (the symbolism does not need to be spelt out) as her last love’s passion the Earl of Essex’s death. She came out of this ‘prison’, her stage makeup was cleaned and we smoothly moved from a drama to real life and the artifice of theatre. This was mirrored by her ‘alter ego’ in an identical costume, crouched on the floor in front of the orchestra.
Vocally the evening was first-rate with two stand-out performances/episodes. One, at the start of part two where the performer playing Smeton gave a spectacular performance of a showpiece aria from Anna Bolena (1/no. 9?), - and this was more than usually interesting as he was a counter-tenor so to hear this music sung in that range was fascinating. The other outstanding performer was Lenneke Ruikin, whose performance of the final scene from Maria Stuarda showed Caballe-level breath control and sweetness. The singer for Leicester I found a little weaker than the others – a slight sense of strain at times and the timbre of the voice was not always attractive, but Devereux was better, if rather small-voiced.
There was only one area that I REALLY disliked about the performance; the pointlessly ubiquitous use of dancers. They were dressed in black body pieces with either black tutus or farthingale frames and were astonishingly intrusive and pointless. The choreography was very weird being jerkily contortionistic in nature and it added nothing to the (many) scenes where they were present. Why were they there? The Hungarian State opera is like that as well in the over-use of dancers – and don’t get me started about the Ring cycle…
This whole event was marvelously clever and theatrically exciting and I am looking forward to next season’s Verdi experience. And at the end it was really good to see the usually unsung heroes of the stage crew coming out for a bow as well – and we ended with Happy Birthday from all for the conductor.