Taste in opera
Sir: If your wine critic were to admit he had no taste for claret, we should forgive him; but if he added that he could not tell the difference between Château Talbot and Ribena, we should know that he had lost his palate and should resign. By a similar token, we can all understand that Rupert Christiansen would rather be sent on a free trip to Paris to attend Don Carlos than take the trouble to tell us about the current pro- duction of Semele at Covent Garden (Arts, 9 March). He tells us that he 'dutifully sat through two acts'. Is it dutiful in a critic to leave before the third act? Had he conde- scended to stay, he would have seen Apollo gliding through the skies in a chariot pulled by flying horses.
This was a joyous production. Every note of the sublime Handel was articulated and reproduced by the brilliant orchestra and cast. Semele was played by Ruth Ann Swen- son, making her superb debut at Covent Garden. The sets by Henry Bardon and the costumes by David Walker were playful allusions to Boucher and Watteau. We gasped with joy with each scene-change. The director, John Copley, brought out all the playfulness and buffoonery of the story while destroying none of its touchingness and charm.
`Aren't these operas essentially vaudevilles?' asks your snooty, Leavis- educated puritan. While this sweeping dis- missal would have earned him a tick in the margin from the late Queenie Leavis, to any member of the audience who had enjoyed three hours of unalloyed delight it would seem ignorant, petulant and churl- ish. Clearly he is incapable of seeing that a great work of art can be both playful and serious, light and deep. That's a defect of nature in him, rather than a fault of Han- del. To dismiss so magnificent a production in a mere three lines, without conveying its musical variety, its visual magic, its sheer magnificence as a piece of theatre, is selling your readers short. Sack Christiansen.
A.N. Wilson
91 Albert Street, London NW1
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