Arts
Grace and disfavour
Rodney Milnes
Taverner (Covent Garden) La Cenerentola (Glyndebourne) t would be ungracious, while whole- heartedly welcoming the Royal Opera's revival of Maxwell Davies's Taverner, to suggest that it might have been even more welcome five years ago: it is now 11 years since it was last performed, and that is far too long for an important work by a major composer. It would also be ungracious, given the musical excellence of the perfor- mance, the excellence of the music, and the eloquence of Paul Griffiths's exemplary programme notes, to suggest that the opera may perhaps have been overvalued; it is, after all, a young man's , work. Like Idomeneo, like The Flying Dutchman, it is by no means flawless, but the spark of genius glows in it just as unmistakably.
Like so many young men's works, it is characterised by fertility of musical inven- tion and refusal to compromise. What was most striking about this revival was the beau- ty and dramatic power of much of the music, though memory suggests that it was a great deal better performed now than it was 11 Years ago — indeed the quality of the or- chestral playing and the way Edward Downes found and conveyed the rhyth- mic backbone, the dramatic pulse of the score, throughout inspired the greatest ad- miration.
I had forgotten how operatically, almost traditionally exciting so much of it was — the use of stage bands (the effect significantly enhanced this time by having the bands in view), such dramatic coups as the monks singing the historical Taverner's Benedictus as he came, unblessedly, to dissolve their monastery, the overwhelming Physical impact of the Wheel of Fortune in- terlude, the constant contrapuntal tension, the string writing at the erection of the stake in the last scene, which sounds like the Lulu adagio as if written by Elgar — all this, in an idiom that once may have sounded 'difficult' but now seems posi- tively mainstream, kept the ears and the Mind tingling.
Refusal to compromise is seen in the composer's own highly literate Mock Tudor libretto, which is not always easily understood when set to angular vocal lines — but then neither are the literary convolu- tions of Tristan. This I admire — why Should we be handed it all on a plate? Less admirable are those sections where musical
and dramatic sense are at variance and where the music (as in Idomeneo) always wins. I am thinking of the Jester's sardonic interjections in the King/Cardinal dialogues, which sound awkwardly paced, and of both finales, in which the composer seems to be aiming at something akin to a Donizetti-like dying fall and misses; in the first, the overall gentleness of pace sits ill with the febrile fantasy of the brainwashing session, and in the second the music, for all its beauty, is defiantly undramatic until the coup of Taverner's own In nomine fading into nothingness.
The subject matter has lost none of its tragic implications. Here is a man, co- incidentally a composer, surrounded by cynical time-servers, trying to do the right thing in a period of political and religious flux and inevitably doing the opposite — in this case rejecting his talent in favour of an ideological fantasy. I was reminded of a gruesome evening spent in the Purcell Room, less than 11 years ago, at a concert of Marxist-Leninist 'music' devised by the late, once patently talented Cornelius Cardew. Life imitating art?
Under Downes's leadership the perfor- mance seemed musically impeccable. Cast changes since 1972 were for the better, and the standard of enunciation generally higher; I purposely did not read the libretto beforehand and heard the vast majority of words. Sarah Walker (Rose), John Dobson (a splendidly shifty Cardinal), Paul Hudson (the bluff King) mad Alan Oke (a dangerously insinuating Jester) were especially praiseworthy. As before, Rai- mund Herincx was a tower of strength as Taverner's antagonist, the White Abbot, and James Bowman mesmerisingly repulsive as the Priest, In the face of Ragnar Ulfung's burning commitment to the title-role it would, again, be ungracious to suggest that a British tenor might have got even more of the words across.
Michael Geliot's production and Ralph Koltai's decor have worn less well; they seem to be inspired by the words rather than the music, the mechanical complexities look suspiciously like a substitute for pur- poseful directiOn, and the general fussiness distracts attention from crucial dialogues (the papal ballet in the second act is especially irritating). But flaws and all, Taverner remains a major event and I long to hear it again before, please, another 11 years have passed.
The Drama of Aida is WNO's well- meaning tribute to (or pass-off of) Peter Brook's La Tragedie de Carmen. A 90-minute version of Verdi's opera, played without a break or a chorus and with a cast of five (the obvious four plus Ramphis), it is designed to refresh those parts of Wales that ordinary companies cannot reach. With great good will, I don't think it works. Aida is about private passions in a public context. Remove the latter and the former are pointless.
Daryl Runswick's interesting orchestra- tion for a 21-strong band of mostly wind and percussion is very clever, but wood- wind is famous for obscuring words. Few were audible. I happen to know them, but any local audiences who don't won't have a clue what's going on since the adaptation by Richard Armstrong (conductor) and An- drei Serban (producer) ignores the passing of time and makes no mention, as far as 1 could hear, of important events like battles. The cast sings well, but 1 came away feeling that those who know the opera will find it all very diverting, and those who don't will be totally mystified.
My views on the Glyndebourne Ceneren- Iola have already been aired in Other Outlets: horribly misconceived visually and musically disappointing, it is not the sort of show that I could recommend to persons of the sort of exquisite taste and sensitivity who read the Spectator — stronger stomachs, indeed, are needed. The adjec- tive that springs to mind is kimp, a useful conflation of kitsch and camp. Perhaps it is all really wonderful — we shall see later in the run with a new conductor.
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