Linbury Studio, Royal Opera
11th June 2008
Four stars is possibly a bit generous for this production, but the four members of the brave and hard-working cast deserve a lot more. The music is an acquired taste that I probably haven’t quite acquired yet, although this is the first time I have sat through anything by Ades and not hated it. However, the strongest moments were when Ades was imitating existing styles, rather than creating his own. Timothy Redman did manage to work some rather nice phrasing from the Southbank Sinfonia, but this was not really the most notable part of the evening.
Carlos Wagner’s production was mostly performed on a large flight of stairs. The lowest step was almost as wide as the stage itself, but there was space at each side for entrances and exits. At the top of the stairs – I believe there were twenty-eight in all – was a sliding door. Many of the stairs had secret compartments, where various props were stored, but these were so well-constructed, it was impossible to know which parts of the steps could be opened – I hope it was a lot clearer to the actors! The stairs and doorway could be lit in various ways, many of Paul Keogan’s lighting effects producing laughter from his audience, particularly during Iain Paton’s ‘hat and cane’ dance. The Duchess’ bed was a gigantic pale pink circular make-up compact which opened and closed. It must have had a false bottom, or Joan Rodgers (Duchess) would surely have suffocated, and Paton’s method of lovemaking would have seemed more impressive still.
So, the cast were not only required to remember what can’t have been the easiest music to learn, they needed to be able to ran up and down the stairs all evening, which must have been quite tiring, as well as potentially dangerous. They also had to remember which of the secret compartments in the stairs to open and when.
Hairy McMungo’s loyalty to his fellow-Scots can sometimes be just a bit exaggerated, but he certainly had a point about Iain Paton. Paton has a gorgeous light tenor, ideal for Handel and Mozart, but also well able to adapt to more modern composers such as Ades. His voice is so beautiful, he can even sing the words ‘let me suck you off’, and make it sound vaguely romantic. His diction is exceptional. There were some complaints from members of the audience who couldn’t hear the libretto, but even Barry could hear nearly all Paton’s words, and he’s slightly deaf, although there were perhaps times when Barry wished he couldn’t hear certain words quite as well as he did.
Paton is also a great dancer – many would find the prospect of dancing up and down steps challenging enough, but Paton did it in high heels, wearing a feather boa. He also got rather intimate with a cylindrical black object – I’m not quite sure what it was, but I know exactly what he was pretending it was. He made his audience laugh throughout the night in his many different roles, all of which were wonderfully and individually characterised. Whether he was the electrician burning his fingers; the romantic lounge lizard, dancing down the stairs with his cane; the waiter, his hand bent stiffly behind his back, able to resist the Duchess’ charms only until a wad of money was waved into his face; the photographer spying on the Duchess and later, in his bright red jacket, helping her to pose for photographs – each character was different not only in costume but in also body language and even in voice.
And not forgetting the scene that made the Duchess – and the opera – famous. The scene is a lot more explicit than I was expecting, and it’s fair to say that something quite shocking rose up from between Paton’s legs. It was a truly impressive moment.
Soprano Rebecca Bottone, singing the soprano bit-parts, washed the steps with aplomb as the Maid, and confidently stripped to her underwear – Bottone is surely in the running for the Primi Divi’s Best Female Bottom Award - before allowing the Duke (bass Alan Ewing) to have his way with her rather graphically. She is clearly up for anything (as a performer, I mean), and, like Paton, did not seem in the least fazed by the considerable demands of her role. Her very flexible soprano made easy work of all the high notes and runs Ades demands of her. Her characters were somewhat alike in manner – although it probably didn’t help her that they wore very similar costumes. But she was always amusing, and held her own alongside her much more experienced colleagues.
Bass Alan Ewing spent much of his time onstage standing menacingly in the doorway at the top of the stage, but he did this so imposingly it never lost its effect. Hairy McMungo said in his (p)review that some of his roles would be more effective if he was Scottish – and Ewing was certainly very amusing when he wore a kilt as the Duke. He spent much of the scene with his underpants around his ankles – an excellent performance, but, of course, a true Scotsman would not have been wearing pants in the first place.
The evening should have belonged to Joan Rodgers, and she gave a strong and committed, if very disturbing performance as the Duchess. It was certainly a memorable acting performance. But the character was so repellent, it was difficult to sympathise with her at all for much of the opera. The other characters were so amusing, even endearing at times, they were much easier to engage with than the cold and creepy Duchess herself. But, in the end, Rodgers stopped being a bitch and became a rather pitiful and very tragic character – there were definite shades of Blanche DuBois as she left her hotel room at last.
Cunning Little Vixen
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