Opera
Macbeth (Scottish Opera) Ernani (English National Opera)
Verdi double
Michael Tanner
Scottish Opera's production of Macbeth, unveiled at last year's Edinburgh Festival and now revived in Glasgow, then touring elsewhere, raises in an acute form a ques- tion about the work which Verdi never answered, though his correspondence sug- gests that he was aware of its troublesome- ness. What, in respect of this harrowing drama, are the claims of truth and beauty?
He was insistent that both the Macbeths should put the meaning, or the poetry, before the music, famously writing that 'I would like the Lady not to sing'. Yet he wrote taxing music for her, with especially tricky coloratura, and trills. Should they be sung badly? If they are, the soprano con- cerned invariably gets panned. Kathleen Broderick in Glasgow gives only a sketchy account of the coloratura, and hardly pos- sesses a trill. Her performance is, even so, a dreadfully powerful one, conviction in every movement and every phrase (best to leave individual notes out of it). Would it be still more gripping if she sang the part beautifully, that is as it is written? I find it hard to say, though if Verdi didn't want the Lady to sing he shouldn't have written the music he did for her, especially the great `La luce langue' for the second version.
Broderick disobeys Verdi, too, in looking wonderful, though sinister. She is sexy, and the double bed which forms the centre- piece of the oppressive and brilliant set, is one where she would make love if only Verdi had given her the chance. As it is, the thought of her husband's ambitious crimes puts her into an erotic ecstasy, and she coils herself round him as they plan Duncan's demise. I found that made more dramatic sense than in any other produc- tion — of the play or the opera — that I have seen. A pity that Richard Zeller, the Macbeth, is rather stiff, and vocally even less determinate than she is. He does improve in the latter parts of the action, and sings his aria decently. A reasonable level is all that any of the solo singing ever achieves; the musical impact is great thanks to Richard Armstrong's galvanising con- ducting, and the magnificent choral contri- butions, especially at the end of Act I, and in the English scene. The Witches are always a problem, and if Luc Bondy hasn't solved it nor has or can anyone else. There is still lots of special pleading concerning them, but their music is hard to take seriously, certainly as being mythically imposing. Bondy has them as a collection of high-spirited punk descen- dants of the denizens of St Trinians, and that makes them effectively gruesome some of the time, absurd for the rest. That Verdi regarded the opera as having three characters, counting the Witches as one, must remain a mystery; he signally failed, musically speaking, to bring their world into serious relation to that of the Mac- beths, so that the move from them to the action of the opera is always jarring. Nonetheless, this is a wonderful work, showing Verdi expanding his range more impressively than anything else in his oeu- vre, with the exception of Don Carlos. There is so much more that is right than wrong about this production, so much in the work that is brought into a full tragic light, that it is important to see it.
No problems beset the ENO's Emani, in which Mike Ashman directs the 1979 WNO production, everything working for a most enjoyable evening, full justice done to this jolly bouncing tragedy of Verdi's galley years. Maria Bjornson's designs are sump- tuous, most welcomely, and it was the som- bre grandeur of the uniformly dark settings, providing just the background for the Velazquez-inspired costumes, that gave the opera what gravity it has. Austerity and imagination are all very well, but a riot of expensive display makes a nice change. It is an object lesson, even so, in what can be done with easily moved sets, creating now an impression of great space, now one of oppression. With a balcony from which prelates and other figures in Verdi's demonology gazed down, one was irre- sistibly put in mind of Don Carlos, which is best kept firmly out of mind if one is to appreciate the 30-year-old composer's effort for what it is. Once more the con- ducting held the secret, with David Parry getting crisp rhythms, sinuous lines and warm string tone, as well as plenty of vocal vitality, from a cast which again is reliable rather than distinguished. Alan Opie's Don Carlo is its strongest feature. The main point of these early works now, I feel, is that they not only exhibit but communicate energy, and on that score this intensely enjoyable account ranks high.
It explains his popularity with the ladies.'
Previous page
