OPERA
Nelson. (Sadler's Wells.) IN Lennox Berkeley's Nelson Sadler's Wells has given us the first fruit of what promises to be a historic season for English opera. Berkeley and his librettist, Alan Pryce-Jones, have found a magnificent operatic theme: the central clash between love and duty, the human drama of two broken marriages, the patriotic background, the death-scene in the cockpit of the Victory—has histoPy ever so imitated the opera-house? But it is also an intensely difficult subject; for any failure to depict Nelson as the magnetic genius whose idealised image has passed into English mythology, any suggestion of the feather-brained tenor of tradition, will be exposed at once. However glaring, his weaknesses, he must be every inch a hero. This is a formidable challenge both to the composer and to the singer.
So far as can be judged from a perform- ance not yet into its stride, the opera emerges with great credit, though not with complete triumph. It is wonderfully rich in two vital operatic ingredients, characterisation and vocal melody. Berkeley proclaims his allegiance, implicitly and explicitly, to Verdi; the drama is carried by the voices, the orchestra--apart from one or two inter- ludes, such as the stirring evocation of Trafalgar—being reserved for commentary and support. There are tunes that haunt the memory and characters of imaginative substance, whose identity stands out not only in their solo music but throughout the ensembles, Furthermore the music is always interesting in itself; craftsmanship is never sacrificed to effect, even legitimate theatrical effect. Berkeley is a shade less successful in conveying the broad sweep of the his- torical background, the pageantry of a great naval war, and the sense of Nelson's unique value to his country. It is all there, but it might have been a little more pervasive. Just before Nelson's death a sailor refers briefly to the Temeraire; could not more have been made of the colourful details of the action? Nevertheless the death scene, and particularly the dirge at the end, is one of the most profoundly moving in any modern opera. The work is constructed of set pieces in a framework of recitative. When these spring naturally out of the action, as they do with conspicuous success in the first scene of Act II, where Nelson after a final quarrel leaves his wife for Lady Hamilton, they prove once again the unique validity and economy of the traditional structure. Else- where the flow is less smooth. Act I con- sists of a mosaic of short numbers, nearly all distinguished in themselves but somehow failing to. create a cumulative emotional discharge. Of its three natural climaxes, Nelson's unobserved entry (a calculated anticlimax), his duet with Emma, and the final chorus of welcome, only the first hits the target full in the centre, though it is fair to add that defects of performance may have detracted from the second (where the orchestra was too loud for the voices) and a certain stiffness of production from the third. The libretto is weakened now and then by a tendency to anticipate and labour its effects. Mrs. Cadagan twice addresses short airs to her caged canary. The second of these is a lovely piece of music, but both hold up the action when time is valuable, and both blur Nelson's second air a little later, whose language is also drawn from the aviary. Again, the appearance of Emma and her mother at Portsmouth in Act III, when they recall the circumstances and the music of the first meeting and Hardy unwit- tingly introduces the veiled Emma to Nelson, would strike a good deal harder' if the episode were less obviously contrived. These points illustrate one of the perennial difficulties of opera, that what looks well on paper and sounds well in itself may misfire on the stage. But in a first opera the remark- able thing is not that Berkeley has occasion- ally miscalculated but that he has given us so much—including a lively desire to hear his next opera.
The performance on the first night scarcely did the composer justice. The music is not easy, either for singers or orchestra, and further acquaintance may bring an improvement. Robert Thomas, a tenor of great promise, sang the exacting part of Nelson creditably, but it would be idle to deny that he lacks the personal magnetism it requires. Nor is he yet an experienced actor. Hence the character was not fully projected; elbow-grease replaced the mercury of genius. Victoria Elliott was more successful in realising the compound of voluptuousness, intelligence and vulgarity in Emma; but the quality of her singing varied considerably, especially in quiet passages. The best all-round performance was Anna Pollak's moving study of Lady Nelson, which all but ran away with the second act. Arnold Matters (surely made up too young) was an impec- cable Sir William Hamilton. Sheila Rex, as Emma's common mother, sailed round the stage like a quinquereme in full panoply, but neither her intonation nor her diction was quite safe. Indeed too many words were lost throughout the opera. Sometimes the composer may have been at fault, but the orchestra more than once threatened to swamp the singers. Otherwise Vilem Tausky conducted with a distinction that would have shone more brightly had the material at his disposal been a little stronger.
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