Short and sweet
Michael Tanner
A Nitro at the Opera Linbury Studio, Royal Opera House The Thieving Magpie Opera North Somehow I missed A Nitro at the Opera when it was first put on at the Royal Opera’s Linbury Studio in 2003. Last week it was revived for four performances. The title — the most irritating feature of the evening — means nothing to me, but it is a collective one for songs and music-theatrical pieces by nine young black composers, some of them making their first essay into classical music.
The evening began with ‘Arias’, six songs by six composers, performed by Mary Plazas and Rodney Clarke, Stephen Higgins at the piano. Plazas is a singing actress of great intensity, and, standing on the empty stage, she was the most dramatic presence of the whole occasion. Dainty Drysdale’s ‘The Journey’, inspired by Eminem’s ‘’97 Bonnie & Clyde’, was likewise the most impressive item, or it may just have been Plazas’s blazing performance. I haven’t the space to mention the three short operas, none as long as 20 minutes, or even their composers. I can say, though, that each of the pieces compelled me, and not only on account of their provenance. As with Tête à Tête, it does seem an excellent idea to have young composers writing short pieces rather than trying to fill a whole evening before they have had the chance to see in practice how their ideas of writing music for the stage work out.
Before Opera North’s performance of The Thieving Magpie I told someone that it was my favourite Rossini opera. By the end of the evening, I was less sure. It is without a doubt one of his most wide-ranging operas, with pastoral, historical, comic and tragic elements intermingled without strain, though Martin Duncan’s production ignores the specific historical dimension by setting it vaguely in the 19th century. Nik Ashton, who is in charge of the revival, takes as light-hearted a view of the work as possible until it really isn’t possible, while I would like it to be pretty serious from the start. One thing that is not a matter of my personal preference is that no one should behave on an operatic stage as they would never behave anywhere else, and that happens a lot in Act I, with villagers stomping around and gesturing and grimacing in a way that removes them firmly from the conceivable sphere of the human. That is particularly true of Lucia, the farmer’s wife who disapproves of her son, the hero Giannetto, marrying beneath his station to the heroine Ninetta, and is only too pleased to suspect her of stealing the cutlery. In a land where larceny is a capital offence, this has tragic potential which comes very close to being realised. Add to this that Ninetta’s father Fernando is a deserter, and the set-up is as threatening as the storm clouds which grow ever more menacing throughout Act I in this production.
It seems to be the conductor David Parry’s idea to contrast the two acts as strongly as he can, with the first all thrust and Sullivan, the second stern, dark and almost sustainedly grim. He does create enormous volume, but without much structure. If Solti had ever conducted Rossini, this is how he would have done it. I wouldn’t deny that Act I of Magpie is similar to Fidelio, which predates it by only three years, in that out of a fairly easygoing domestic atmosphere the possibility of tragedy and thus of heroism arises. But it arises sooner than this production, scenically and musically, allows. It’s not helped by the singing being of so variable a standard, in that some of the solo participants are of so meagre a vocal endowment that they naturally put one in mind of amateur productions of operetta.
By contrast Ninetta is sung quite gloriously, with the exception of a few top notes and some sketchy coloratura, by Mary Hegarty, who is also a most winning actress. For much of Act I she is directed as if she were Miss Muffett, though, so that her confrontations with the evil protoScarpia Mayor of Robert Poulton and her father, woofily sung by Jonathan Best, lack the cumulative tension which the opera should be developing by that stage. The only figure who is able to do full justice to him/herself is the peasant boy Pippo, a trouser role exquisitely performed by Anne Marie Gibbons. His friendship with Ninetta is the most affecting in the opera, and clearly the one that moved Rossini most. Their duet in prison in Act II is one of those rare places in Rossini which move one as Mozart often does. Giannetto’s role is not rounded, and even if it were Ashley Catling would not, with his parody-Florez style, fill it out, so that relationship goes for little. Nothing can spoil the impact of most of Act II, however, and the march to execution is stunning, Hegarty at her finest, Rossini for once overwhelming. This is a work half of which is far better than the other half, and if nothing else, this production brings that home vividly.
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