Opera
Student body
Rodney Milnes
La Vestale (Nottingham University) Macbeth (University College, London) The Three Pintos (Oxford University)
Watch out all you music critics, Arthur Jacobs is after you. Mr Jacobs (at whom I am not trying to get—he is a muchrespected colleague) has been sounding off in the Sunday Another Newspaper about student-based opera performances and critical reaction to same. The burden of his plaint is that such undertakings, with student chorus and orchestra but professional singers and producers, are usually dreadful and he refuses 'to join the music critics' parade of being "grateful" to a student organisation for a musical rarity.'
Well yes, but any professional opera company courts financial disaster in mounting a work outside the obvious standard repertoire, and on the virtually self-evident principle that as many good operas remain unperformed as are performed, we have to rely on these organisations for the widening and enrichment of our operatic experience. I would far rather journey to the University of Ultima Thule for an indifferent performance of Donizetti's long-forgotten Betsy, Contessa di Bradford than potter off to the West End for the 9,478th revival of Cav and Pag. Mr Jacobs might say that was just because I was in the business, but I firmly believe that a public that turns its nose up at such performances is cutting it off in the process.
Three recent productions illustrate the point. Nottingham University mounted Spontini's La Vestale (hands up all those who have ever seen a Spontini opera). First performed in Paris in 1807, it is a fascinating link between Gluck and almost any purveyor of Grand Opera you care to name. It is also, despite a certain amount of Empire pomp, relatively short, dramatically concentrated, orchestrally interesting, and with a pair of well-contrived coups de theatre. Mr Jacobs thought it 'not only ludicrously staged but badly performed even by amateur standards.' I thought it beautifully designed (Gill Douglas), resourcefully produced (Tom Hawkes), well sung, and worth
anyone's money.
Anyone who turned his nose up at the University College of London's Macbeth would need that which lies behind it examined. This was the first performance here of the 1847 version. Most of the best music—the great finales and the sleepwalking scene—is already there, and Verdi's 1865 second thoughts are by no means all for the better. The original aria for Macbeth after the apparition scene is infinitely preferable to the poor duet that Verdi substituted, and so is Macbeth's affecting final aria to the later, rather predictable general rejoicing. The rum-ti-turn cabaletta for his Lady in Act 2 may be no match musically for 'La luce langue', but that sinuously evil addition has always stuck out from the rest of the opera like a sore ham sandwich.
At the Collegiate Theatre, Jonathan Summers, whose outstanding Rigoletto was noted in these pages last year, was a superb Macbeth by any critical standards. The world is this young baritone's oyster—I just pray that he has a responsible agent. Janet Jacques was a tireless Lady with a nastY smile, and the opera was well produced (John Moody) and excitingly conducted (George Badasconyi). UCL has previouslY given us operas by Marschner, Erkel and Moniuszko (hands up etc).
Oxford's The Three Pintos (Weber/ Mahler) best illustrates Mr Jacobs'sconcern for critical standards, and here I must declare an interest: I have known and admired the translator since earliest childhood. Firing straight from the hip, Mr Jacobs called it a disgrace. With half the cast and lord knows how many of the chorus and orchestra down with 'flu, the first night was a pretty gruelling experience all round. The rest of the press, rightly or wrongly, skirted this fact and concentrated on the work's interest : how much is Weber and how much Mahler? (The answer is, far more of the latter than the author of the programme note realised.) But the backbone of this comic opera is Weber. The two funniest numbers—a courtship rehearsal with the baritone in drag singing falsetto, and a trio of farewell in which the mockery of dramatic convention is all the more hilarious for its gentle affection—are almost pure Weber. For the rest, Mahler fanciers can revel in the woodwind writing, some soupy harmony, and an entr'acte that could come from any of his early symphonies. By the fifth performance, production (Mr Hawkes again) and orchestra had pulled themselves together, and some fine solo singing was heard in a worthier setting. Richard Morton had the quirky charm and vocal stamina for the leading tenor role, and Jacquelyn Fugelle both sang winningly and presented the self dramatisation of the heroine with great aplomb. I think there is enough comedy and good music in Pintos to engage the interest of a professional company (after all, Mahler is box-office just now) and, heaven knows as well as I, the translator could do with the royalties.
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