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The arts desk, 21 January 2015 |
by Alexandra Coghlan |
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Giordano: Andrea Chenier, London, Royal Opera House, 20. Januar 2015 |
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Andrea Chénier, Royal Opera
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An exceptional cast make this revolutionary romance a must-see |
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What kind of a regime, asks Gérard, talks of justice while killing poets?
It’s a question whose answer suggests itself all too swiftly this week,
briefly turning a revolutionary romp of an opera into something rather more
chilling. Playing things straight in his new production of Andrea Chénier
(if wigs and lavender stockings, chandeliers and pastoral divertissements
can be called straight), David McVicar may have missed a trick with a story
that speaks with surprising clarity about the violence of political and
ideological conflict. Or maybe he didn’t. This period production is the
gilded and polished frame that showcases the Royal Opera doing what they do
at their absolute best.It’s hard to get past the spectacle of it all –
elegant Ancien Régime interiors, lit so beautifully with early-evening
warmth by Adam Silverman, giving way to cinematic street scenes. Yes, these
revolutionaries are improbably shiny and recently washed, but this is
Hollywood-does-history, Les Mis – The Opera, and it looks all the better for
it.
In Pappano's hands a good score almost passes for a great one
It helps that the visuals are so entirely in sympathy not only with Illica’s
libretto, but also with Antonio Pappano’s approach in the pit. In his hands
a good score almost passes for a great one, sweeping doubts away in massive,
enveloping string gestures and a final apotheosis of brass that crowns even
the ecstatic final duet between Maddalena and Chénier. The Royal Opera House
Orchestra has rarely sounded better. They support an enormous cast of over
20 named principals (is there a bigger in the repertoire?) a generously
bolstered chorus, and a troupe of actors and dancers.
The combined
forces all come together to tell a story that Dr Alexandra Wilson’s
programme essay invites us to see not necessarily as penury- and-prostitutes
verismo, but perhaps as more of a romance, with more than a hint of Grand
Opera. It’s an approach that privileges interiority over social commentary,
one that might falter with weaker leads. But Jonas Kaufmann and Eva-Maria
Westbroek (pictured right) once again lift all around them with the
tenderness and conviction of two exceptional performances, calibrating an
emotional arc that climaxes with unexpected ferocity in the Act IV finale.
Kaufmann plays a long game, underplaying “Un dì all'azzuro spazio”,
allowing its stand-alone beauty to dissolve into the narrative flow. Leaning
slightly more into “Credi al destino”, he still holds back, exercising
tremendous control in order to release in the courtroom confrontation of “Sì
fui soldato”. This outburst must surprise the character as much as his
onlookers if it is to succeed, to find an anger not available to him in the
salon of the start. Westbroek is a worthy partner, and if her voice speaks
too much of wisdom to completely convince as the Act I ingénue, she more
than makes up for this in the pathos and warmth of Acts III and IV.
It’s a star-squandering cast – blink and you’ll miss Peter Coleman-Wright
and Peter Hoare – but it’s a particular bonus seeing Rosalind Plowright (the
Royal Opera’s Maddalena at their last Chénier staging, 30 years ago) return
as the Contessa di Coigny, a brittle performance setting us up for a
disquieting rethink at “La mamma morta”. Željko Lučić’s Gérard takes a while
to settle on opening night, but “Nemico della Patria” finally flowered,
this one opportunity to humanise a two-dimensional character seized with
affecting intensity.So much of the character of the production comes from
context, whether the sets or the chorus, actors and minor character roles.
Adrian Clarke’s Mathieu compresses a life-story into his few moments in Act
III, a cameo that sets the tone for a courtroom filled with lively,
chattering humanity rather than a block-choreographed collective. It’s a
shame the foreground action is so utterly absorbing that you miss more of
their tiny details than you catch.
If denial and abstinence are the
watchwords of your January, then this new Chénier may not be for you.
There’s spectacle and excess here in bucketloads, matching Giordano’s score
gesture for gesture. But there’s also music-making of unadorned quality,
simple excellence that stands on its own merits. This Andrea Chénier is a
great show, whether you close your eyes or keep them open. You can’t say
fairer than that.
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