DROTTNINGHOLM
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Sarastro - the Musical
Jean-Philippe Rameau: Zoroastre, Drottningsholms Slottsteater, Sweden, 16 August 2005.
No one who claims to be seriously interested in baroque opera should fail to attend a performance at Drottningholm's Slottsteater, not far from the centre of Stockholm. Not only does one see there authentic productions of baroque opera in period costume accompanied by period instruments, but one also experiences the operas seated packed together on baroque hard benches at non-air-conditioned temperatures. Such is the authenticity of the whole occasion, however, that the discomfort is readily tolerated once the performance begins.
The small, 454 seat theatre was built in 1766 at Drottningholm Palace, the summer residence of the Swedish royal family, at the request of Queen Lovisa Ulrika, but its heyday was between 1777 and 1792 during the reign of King Gustav III. Following his death, the theatre was more or less forgotten until the 1920's, when, under the guidance of a theatre historian Agne Beijer, restoration was carried out, stage machinery was repaired, wax candles were replaced by electric lamps and the collection of original scenery copied. The theatre reopened in 1922, since when there have been annual seasons of opera and ballet. A recent innovation is new modern stage lighting which some find too harsh and mechanical in operation for the period atmosphere. Over the years a number of remarkable productions have been seen. I mention two. In 2000, a production of Handel's Tamurlano, with a chilling scene depicting the suicide of Bejazet, made a strong contribution to the corpus of modern productions of Handel's opere serie. In 2004, a very bizarre work entitled Cecilia och Apkungen (translated as 'Cecilia and The Monkey King') showed how the baroque Theatre could be a perfect setting for the staging of a modern opera. This work by Reine Jönsson which conflates two stories, in part based on a children's cartoon, was completely comprehensible to the many engrossed young people in the audience, while utterly baffling to their elders!
Three productions were staged in 2005, Marivaux's play 'The Triumph of Love' (1732), an operatic version of 'The Taming of the Shrew' from 1795 and, the subject of this review, Jean-Philippe Rameau's tragédie en musique, Zoroastre, in its 1756 version. This production was a rare opportunity to see a staging in full baroque splendour of a Rameau opera. This is in contrast to recent performances by Les Arts Florissants under William Christie, seen at the Barbican after originating in France - a much-panned modern-dress version of Les Boréades (seen in concert in London and so lacking any visual effect) and the version of the comédie lyrique, Les Paladins, in which Rameau's music is used as an accompaniment to a breath-taking spectacular visual show in which back-projection of characters and animals transform back and forth to real actors and dancers.
John Eliot Gardiner is currently promoting his interest in Rameau operas by denigrating Handel's opera seria format. Zoroastre was an opportunity to compare the composers. This performance was a powerful advocate for Rameau. It must be said, however, that musically he is at his best when at his most Handelian. Handelian arias are separated by long passages of accompanied recitative, delivered on this occasion in the baroque esperanto of non-francophone soloists. Where Rameau scores is in the large set-piece ballet-choruses - a dimension missing in concert performance. The music director was Christophe Rousset, conducting the Drottningholm Theatre Orchestra, Chorus and Dancers. The producer was Pierre Audi. This was the team responsible for Tamurlano. The performing edition (of Les Arts Florissants) used Rameau's original scoring. The sound balance was, throughout, dominated by the woodwind, with particularly subtle writing for bassoons and hand horn. This provided a thrilling accompaniment to the drama.
Publicity had it that Zoroastre and Mozart's Sarastro are one and the same. Apart from the name and the connection with freemasonry there is no connection between the character depicted here and in Die Zauberflöte. The opera has a typical masonic theme - the battle of good and evil between the forces of the dark and the light. As with Die Zauberflöte, the plot is consequently full of inconsistencies and illogicalities. It examines the struggle between Zoroastre and his girl friend Amélite ranged against the evil High Priest and sorcerer Abramane and the Princess Érinice. The latter invoke subterranean and dark forces against the spiritual elevation of Zoroastre aided by 'Spirits of the Elements' under the direction of Oromasès, 'the king of the Genii'. Despite the absence of surtitles, the plot was easy to follow since the goodies were dressed in white and the baddies in midnight blue with nobody in between.
Vocally the performance was superb. Anders Dahlin (substituting for Mark Padmore) as Zoroastre and Sine Bundgaard (Amélite) were perfectly matched against their evil counterparts, sung by Evgueniy Alexiev and Anna Maria Panzarella; the baritone of Gérard Théruel gave great authority to his role as Oromasès. There is no doubt that the baddies had the best music both vocally and in the dances. I single out the duet between Abramane and Érinice in Act III, a quarrel played out (for some reason) as a drunken game of footsie - a humorous element that seemed somewhat misplaced. However the high-point of the opera is Act IV, an extended danse macabre for soloists, chorus and corps de ballet, making full use of the stage machinery and starting with a realistic thunder-storm (typical of this year's summer weather in Sweden), representing the final efforts of the powers of evil. By contrast, the short final Act V was a complete anti-climax, bringing the opera not so much to a conventional happy ending as to an abrupt stop. An audience more responsive to individual scenes would have added to the authenticity of the evening; reverential but enthusiastic applause was restricted to the end of each part.
On the evidence of this production and those mentioned above, Rameau's forte is seen as writing in support of stage spectacle, unlike Handel who conveys the drama almost entirely through the music. A difference between musical and opera perhaps?
Published in Oxford Magazine No.291, Noughth Week Michaelmas Term 2009, p31.
C.W.Gluck: Orfeus & Euridike, Confidencen, Ulriksdals Slottsteater, 11 July; Claudio Monteverdi: Poppeas Kröning, Drottningholms Slottsteater, Stockholm, 6 August 2009.
Following a visit to see the new Copenhagen Opera House, our journey to Stockholm this year included a short stop in Lund to visit the offices and exhibit of the European Spallation Source, Scandinavia, recently chosen as the site for the next generation source of neutrons for research into the properties of materials, should funding become available. It will be built to the north west of the city as part of a major scientific and medical complex including the new light source, Max IV. These two enterprises, representing Art and Science, are destined to become twenty-first century monuments to a cultural resurgence of the Baltic region now expanding into a modern Hanseatic zone.
Operaen, the new Opera House which opened in 2005, is a gift to the people of Denmark from the Møller Foundation. It is magnificent. Situated in land reclaimed from an old naval dockyard it has a fine view over the water to the Amalienborg Palace. Seating 1450, the auditorium is spacious and impressive, appearing much larger, with an unbelievably clear acoustic. But the most impressive features are backstage, with a full-size sound-insulated rehearsal stage, a special floor for ballet, and an orchestral room beneath the stage which can be used for recording and broadcast transmission. The exterior of the auditorium is delineated by beautifully designed circular maple cladding, contributing to the décor of the public areas. We look forward to the opportunity to attend a performance there, hoping that it will be an occasion worthy of the surroundings.
An overnight stop at the Hotel Gyllene Uttern with an excellent dinner in their recently constructed veranda restaurant overlooking Lake Vättern, where we have broken our journey countless times over the past fifty years, took us on to Stockholm in time for the first of two operas.
This was Gluck’s Orfeo ed Euridice, sung in Italian, though billed, as here, under its Swedish title, in recognition perhaps of the slight Swedish accent of the chorus. It was, for us, principally another opportunity to hear the sensational young mezzo Karolina Blixt who had made such an overwhelming impression as the Baptist in Stradella’s San Giovanni Battista in the same theatre last year. As described last year (Summer Gardens 2008, Noughth Week Michaelmas Term) Confidencen is a charming rococo theatre dating from 1753, with the same audience capacity and intimacy of the contemporary Holywell Music Room, doing for chamber opera what HMR does for chamber music, today under the inspired leadership of Kerstin Dellert, now assisted by Per Arthur Segerström, who directed, and Nils-Åke Häggbom. Confidencen is situated in the park of Ulriksdal Palace on the outskirts of Stockholm. On this occasion we chose to travel by public transport in order not to sacrifice a hard found overnight parking slot outside our Stockholm pied-á-terre. This involved a few stops on the Underground followed by a fifteen minute walk along woodland paths which put us in a receptive mood for the pastoral nature of the performance.
Unlike Drottningholm, with an obsession with safety, Confidencen nowadays aims for the authenticity of the operatic experience. There is no electric lighting of the stage, illumination being provided by candlelight. This gives a darker spectacle than modern audiences are accustomed to, no attempt being made to spotlight the faces of the singers. Last year this was no problem with a proliferation of candles giving sufficient light but this year it was dimly lit apart from the occasional flaming handheld torch (making the audience grateful for the three safety staff credited in the programme).The stage is narrow but deep, exaggerating the height of the performers, the scenery of simple baroque design, without the elaborate machinery of the period.
This was a small scale performance of great charm. The eleven-piece orchestra was conducted by Arnold Östman; there was a chorus of four and there were three dancers following and miming the soloists, Blixt as Orfeo, Vivianne Holmberg, Euridice and Jenny Ohlson, Amor. The programme gave no indication of which version of the opera was followed; it could be that it was an edited version with some cuts, giving overall a rather episodic impression. Nevertheless the drama was there, posing the eternal question of what one would do oneself in such circumstances. But our main reason for attending was to hear again Karolina Blixt, She did not disappoint; her opening notes brought back the tingle factor of her performance in Stradella and this was sustained throughout the opera. This combined with her stage presence makes her a potential star and one can only express surprise that her international career has not yet taken off. Her immense height and dramatic skill make her a natural for the great male roles of seventeenth and eighteenth century opera. I must say I await impatiently her British debut.
Gluck’s opera is dominated by the singing of Orfeo; Euridice and Amor provide the foil, adequately fulfilled by Holmberg and Ohlsson. The former, in her first major role, gave a charming depiction of Euridice’s bewilderment though she has a slightly harsh edge to her voice which seems to be characteristic of young Swedish trained sopranos today. (I have called this the ‘Vadstena screech’ after the Academy where many complete their studies.) Ohlsson provided just the right light touch as Amor, her edges smoothed by time well-spent at London’s Royal Academy of Music.
The second opera seen in Sweden, at the authentic, and authentically uncomfortable, theatre at the Royal Palace of Drottningholm, with its prodigious record of authentic performances of early opera, now under the musical direction of Mark Tatlow, was Monteverdi’s L’Incoronazione di Poppea, again billed under its Swedish title, though sung in Italian. This was eagerly anticipated following last year’s memorable production of that composer’s Il Ritorno d’Ulisse in Patria, being again directed by Johanna Garpe (Summer Gardens, loc cit).
Poppea tells a variant of the age-old story of a young woman who embarks on a passionate affair with a man of power, with the ambition to displace his current consort, who reacts with vindictiveness or dignity or each in turn, as in this case. Similarities to Semele and Jove at one end to examples from contemporary real life at the other are brought to mind. Indeed one could imagine this Poppea being the sort to take a tape-recorder into the bedroom.
The production gets off to a gripping start, both musically and dramatically; one’s reaction to the opening scenes is how much better it is than last year’s misconceived Glyndebourne production (loc cit). Following the Prologue with the goddesses, Love, Fortune and Virtue, played by men in drag, there are vivid depictions of Ottone’s way to the house of his mistress barred by Nero’s guards followed by the emergence of post-coital Nero and Poppea, he reluctant to depart, she to let him go. Their love scenes are genuinely erotic but tasteful (by twenty-first century standards). These lovers are young, Nero too young to have an established spouse, Ottavia, who behaves with appropriate dignified fury.
Sadly the momentum of the opening scenes is not maintained. It becomes apparent that the director has had to work with severely constrained resources, not consistent with Monteverdi’s opulence of score and casting. We discover that the eighteen listed cast are performed by eleven singers and this excludes the counterbalance of the innocent lovers Valletto and Damigella who are omitted, as are Seneca’s retainers. There is no chorus; the finale has Poppea enthroned on a bench, the goddesses and other cast forming a background tableau. Likewise, the orchestra is limited to twelve players who nevertheless make a brave effort to represent the richness of the score. The three acts are condensed to two; the first ends with Seneca’s imposed suicide, witnessed not by grieving students but by the two guards and a disguised Poppea. This diminishes the impact of this important tragic element of the opera.
Within these limitations this is an intelligent production, a little too serious for my taste. It was beautifully staged in Drottningholm’s characteristic baroque style, focussing on the relationships of Nero, Poppea and Ottavia, pointed by the two ladies forced to exchange garments at the end, implying a role reversal not quite ‘true’, and hinting at Poppea’s fate to follow. The singing was of a high standard though none was heart-stopping. I noted Christopher Ainslie’s clear account of Ottone. Ottavia was performed by Matilda Paulsson, her dignified Addio Roma forming a poignant prelude to the triumphalist finale. The voices of Charlotte Hellekant and Ingela Bohlin as Nerone and Poppea blended wonderfully as their adulterous relationship became redeemed by the Food of Love.
This year we travelled to Drottningholm by boat from Stockholm Town Hall along the banks of Lake Mälaren, initially crowded with dwellings of all ages from the traditional red to modern white opening up to views of the landscape as we approached the Palace grounds. Afterwards a convenient Theatre Bus took us back in comfort to the centre of Stockholm, with the strains of the opera still singing in our ears, avoiding the stress of driving!
26 August 2009
31 July, 16 August: Confidencen, Ulrikesdals Slottsteater, Stockholm; Allessandro Stradella, Salome; In war and peace with Claudio Monteverdi
Confidencen is a small exquisite rococo theatre dating from 1753, nowadays seating an audience of two hundred and thirty on comfortable chairs. It takes its name from the one time ability to dine there ‘in confidence’, the table and its contents being hoisted from the floor below. It is situated in the park of Ulrikesdal Palace on the outskirts of Stockholm where one may nowadays enjoy a picnic before the performance, though there is also an excellent restaurant. The leading spirit over the last thirty years in promoting the theatrical activities has been the mezzo Kjerstin Dellert, who now in her eighties’ still indefatigable as theatrical manager as well as herself participating in productions. This year there is a full season of opera, ballet, concerts and musical entertainment extending from April to September. Over the years we have seen there a hilarious modern version of Die Entführung aus dem Serail, a scaled down version of Un Ballo in Maschera (which did not really work), an extremely bloody ‘braveheart’ Lucia di Lammamoor but this is the first year we have seen productions suited to the ambience. In defiance of safety, the stage illumination is provided by hundreds of candles, relit after each interval
Stradella’s oratorio of 1675, based on the story of John the Baptist, was performed as a series of dramatic tableaux linked by narrative passages delivered by Kjerstin Dellert. Accompanied by a fourteen piece baroque ensemble and under the direction of Arnold Östman the performance was hugely entertaining, though the music was inappropriately jaunty and the endless triple time ultimately a little tedious. The singing was good: Charlotta Larsson’s clear soprano impressed in the title role. But the sensation of the evening was Karolina Blixt as the Baptist. Immensely tall, with tremendous stage presence, she has a fantastic voice of an exceptional timbre. Easy at first to mistake for an alto counter- tenor, it has an androgynous quality which lends support to my view that the low female voice rather than the counter-tenor is the natural successor to the castrato. Blixt made a sensational debut as Xerxes at Drottningholm in 2007; it is to be hoped she will soon have opportunities to become more widely known. She is still very young.
The choreographed concert, entitled I krig och fred med Claudio Monteverdi was in memoriam the dancer director Ulf Gadd who had produced the show in 2007 but died in June. The programme was in three parts. The first consisted of love songs, sung stylishly by a five part madrigal choir, illustrated by dancers; the second, operatic excerpts from Poppea and Arianna including the final duet from the former sung by Caroline Gentele and Matilda Paulsson as Nero sung beautifully to bring out the full amoral tenderness of this scene, emphasising to us again the misguided nature of Glyndebourne’s interpretation. Finally there was a very moving ballet version of Il Combattimento di Tancredi ed Clorinda, with a notable contribution from the baritone Jakob Högström. The performance was accompanied immaculately by the seven piece Confidencens Barockensemble and conducted by Arnold Östman.
27 August 2008
Confidencen is a small exquisite rococo theatre dating from 1753, nowadays seating an audience of two hundred and thirty on comfortable chairs. It takes its name from the one time ability to dine there ‘in confidence’, the table and its contents being hoisted from the floor below. It is situated in the park of Ulrikesdal Palace on the outskirts of Stockholm where one may nowadays enjoy a picnic before the performance, though there is also an excellent restaurant. The leading spirit over the last thirty years in promoting the theatrical activities has been the mezzo Kjerstin Dellert, who now in her eighties’ still indefatigable as theatrical manager as well as herself participating in productions. This year there is a full season of opera, ballet, concerts and musical entertainment extending from April to September. Over the years we have seen there a hilarious modern version of Die Entführung aus dem Serail, a scaled down version of Un Ballo in Maschera (which did not really work), an extremely bloody ‘braveheart’ Lucia di Lammamoor but this is the first year we have seen productions suited to the ambience. In defiance of safety, the stage illumination is provided by hundreds of candles, relit after each interval
Stradella’s oratorio of 1675, based on the story of John the Baptist, was performed as a series of dramatic tableaux linked by narrative passages delivered by Kjerstin Dellert. Accompanied by a fourteen piece baroque ensemble and under the direction of Arnold Östman the performance was hugely entertaining, though the music was inappropriately jaunty and the endless triple time ultimately a little tedious. The singing was good: Charlotta Larsson’s clear soprano impressed in the title role. But the sensation of the evening was Karolina Blixt as the Baptist. Immensely tall, with tremendous stage presence, she has a fantastic voice of an exceptional timbre. Easy at first to mistake for an alto counter- tenor, it has an androgynous quality which lends support to my view that the low female voice rather than the counter-tenor is the natural successor to the castrato. Blixt made a sensational debut as Xerxes at Drottningholm in 2007; it is to be hoped she will soon have opportunities to become more widely known. She is still very young.
The choreographed concert, entitled I krig och fred med Claudio Monteverdi was in memoriam the dancer director Ulf Gadd who had produced the show in 2007 but died in June. The programme was in three parts. The first consisted of love songs, sung stylishly by a five part madrigal choir, illustrated by dancers; the second, operatic excerpts from Poppea and Arianna including the final duet from the former sung by Caroline Gentele and Matilda Paulsson as Nero sung beautifully to bring out the full amoral tenderness of this scene, emphasising to us again the misguided nature of Glyndebourne’s interpretation. Finally there was a very moving ballet version of Il Combattimento di Tancredi ed Clorinda, with a notable contribution from the baritone Jakob Högström. The performance was accompanied immaculately by the seven piece Confidencens Barockensemble and conducted by Arnold Östman.
27 August 2008