Sunday 17 March 2013

Simon Boccanegra, English Touring Opera, (Telegraph Review)

Simon Boccanegra by English Touring Opera is a brave try but a misguided choice for these testing times.

 

By Rupert Christiansen

4:51PM GMT 17 Mar 2013

No opera of Verdi’s is darker in musical colour or emotional tone than Simon Boccanegra, a convoluted tale of a pirate-turned-Doge in medieval Genoa, persecuted by his old enemy and haunted by both the loss of his wife and his failure to placate warring factions.

It’s certainly no recipe for a fun night out – there’s no grand opera flummery, no jolly drinking songs or rum-ti-tum – and although its solemn beauty and moral seriousness can make it extremely moving in a great production, it’s a work difficult to animate, and I do wonder whether it’s a wise choice for English Touring Opera’s spring season, especially at a time when we all want cheering up.

Uncluttered and unpretentious though it is, James Conway’s staging doesn’t resolve the problem of the libretto’s inherent lack of narrative clarity: setting it in the post-war period in neutrally modern costumes makes it no more credible or lucid than medieval doublet and hose, particularly when the generally low standard of acting leaves so many crucial relationships and motivations ill-defined.

Only one element of the performance truly comes alive. Elizabeth Llewellyn’s Amelia shines brightly: as well as negotiating one of Verdi’s trickiest arias with elegant aplomb and crowning the wonderful Council Chamber ensemble with glory, she also makes the girl’s hopes and fears vivid, suggesting that innocent womanhood can point the way out of the mess that men have made of the world.

Grant Doyle radiates saturnine malevolence as the churl Paolo, and Charne Rochford sings robustly as Gabriele Adorno, the coming man. But the centre does not hold: although Craig Smith and Keel Watson sing dutifully as Boccanegra and his nemesis Fiesco, neither of them radiates much vocal authority, let alone personal charisma, and their two momentous confrontations, which bookend the opera, carry little emotional impact.

Michael Rosewell conducts with a firm and sensitive baton, but the reduced orchestration inevitably drains gravitas and grandeur from the score and much of what should sound sepulchrally awesome ends up pallidly churchy. A brave try overall, but a misguided one.