bMary Couzens

A review by Barry Grantham for EXTRA! EXTRA!

In anticipation

My introduction to Verdi’s music occurred early in my career; in fact at my first professional engagement when I was invited to appear with the Carl Rosa’s production of ‘Falstaff’ at the Opera House, Manchester.  My role was the admittedly subsidiary one of an insect, required to buzz round Falstaff as he sat sleeping under a scenic tree in a scenic forest near Windsor. I was ten years old and had been recruited along with nine young girls from the local dancing academy.   I think I acquitted myself well enough which required little more than running round and round, holding a little lamp on the end of a stick, and flapping appended wings. However, I did present a problem being the only boy and so was given my costume of a black leotard and hood and told to change in the first dressing room on the left along the corridor indicated by the stage-manager. Of course, I took the first door to the right and found myself in a well appointed dressing room with the soon to become familiar smell of greasepaint and spirit gum. I had just started to undress when a man of enormous proportions – or so he seemed to a small insect – and clearly dressed as Falstaff entered and demanded to know in a voice of rumbling thunder, what I was doing there. I explained that I had been sent there as they wouldn’t let me change with the girls.

       “Yes, I see your point; that would never do, would it?” he replied, in a not                      unfriendly Welsh accent.  “Well, get on with it then”. 

He proceeded to make his own change for the next act. A few moments later a flurried stage-manager appeared at the door. “What are you doing in here, boy?” and hustled me out of the august presence making appropriate apologies to the star singer.

My own work having gravitated mostly toward the dramatic rather than the musical, I have always been impressed by the theatrical skill of Verdi with particular admiration for his Shakespearean themes (there is a superb video of Zeffirelli’s ‘Otello’ with Placido Domingo).  Unfortunately, I have faired less well with ‘Aida’ and cannot recall a production that I enjoyed. I last saw it in Sweden in some great sports venue or the like – being right in the middle of a flu attack, I was completely impervious to any charms it might offer, and I had the strong conviction that I was about to be buried alive along with Radames . 

On the good side, I do love the Coliseum and promise to take my seat and await the rise of the curtain with enthusiasm and a total willingness to be newly converted.  

Setting the Scene

It is Egypt at the time of the Pharaohs, and General Radames has been chosen to lead the Egyptian armies into battle against the invading Ethiopians. He hopes to return victorious to Aida, an enemy slave in the Royal household for whom he cannot openly admit his love. Amneris, Princess of Egypt, also secretly loves Radames, though she suspects that he prefers Aida to her. The Pharaoh enters with the priests and his court to hear reports of the invasion.  The Egyptians (including Radames) are unaware that Aida is the daughter of the Ethiopian king, Amonasro and that she is torn between her love for Radames and her love for country.  Radames is given the sacred sword by the high priest and the gods' blessing on the campaign ahead.

The Performance

As I come down St Martin’s Lane, I see the globe atop the building is spinning once again, proudly proclaiming that this is the ‘COLISEUM’.  There is a crowd bustling at the entrance like bees before a hive.  When I enter, all is excitement and anticipation. The old lady is looking splendid – I have known her through good times and sad – How splendid and welcoming her auditorium; the mock Imperial Roman all spick and span, the red velvet fresh and the gold glowing.  To make things even more cheerful there is a very gay (in that friendly old meaning of the word) ‘Aida’ curtain to welcome us, suggesting a blue pyramid surrounded by a series of small squiggles representing - what?  hieroglyphics?  star clusters?  It doesn’t matter – it’s 

pop-art-jolly and promises a fresh approach in the coming production.

Here, I think I will hand out my first bouquet – to the designer Zandra Rhodes. I was a little suspicious that this might have been a gimmicky ploy, part of the long tradition of recruiting a designer from the world of fashion.  But not so; this was an inspired choice and her work a triumph: a symphony in gold, terracotta and luminous turquoise, providing a series of images of quite breath-taking beauty. I mean that literally, for when the curtain revealed the set for Act II, I needed to take a sharp intake of breath. Here was a sort of Art Deco boudoir, pleasantly reminiscent to the Egyptian style popular in the twenties, the first of many visual surprises.    There was also much practical stagecraft: for example the asymmetrical screens, based on the angle of the pyramids, which juxtaposed in various combinations to provide acting areas for close intimacy or for processional grandeur

The producers have given us a very ‘Pretty’ production.   There has been no attempt at gritty realism. The horrific notion of being buried alive is so glossed over as to give us no discomfort whatsoever. The Ethiopian prisoners perform a very perky dance for our entertainment and show not a trace of anguish. This is perhaps a good thing; we get rather too much grit in the theatre these days. Though there is Egyptian sunlight aplenty, luxury in abundance, and a full measure of ‘Eastern Promise’ maybe the production could have done with a little more of the decadence, sinister priest ridden mysticism, and necrology, which Lucy Hughes-Hallett tells us, in her enlightening programme article, was the general western view of Egypt at the time of the opera’s composition.  

This brings me to the problem of ‘authenticity’. Verdi himself and his collaborators did their best to get it ‘Right’- Mariette, who wrote the scenario, was an Egyptologist. Ghustav Kobbé who attended the first performance thought Verdi might have discovered an ancient liturgical manuscript, so authentic did he find the priests chanting – to me however, I could not but hear echoes from a very European cloister.    No-one knows how the Egyptians danced, or how their priests sang or the acrobats performed; accuracy is neither possible nor even desirable. The aim should be to present something that doesn’t stimulate memories of unrelated cultures and styles.   I haven’t got the score – is there a section headed ‘Indian Dance’ which the choreographer has chosen to take literally?  We know that classic Indian dance is of great antiquity but in Middle Kingdom Egypt of three thousand years back? Come on!  And, oh dear, those modern acrobats with their ‘competition required elements’ and the Olga Corbet preparations.  As for the Ethiopians, I couldn’t – for once - quite see where Miss Rhodes was coming from.  I recall quite a few bas-reliefs of Pharaohs smiting their enemies, who are invariably naked and without wishing to contravene the producer’s welcome ‘no nudity’ policy (yes, there have been too many  bosoms flying about in opera of late) but need they have looked as if they were dressed for a Siberian winter? And that witchdoctor – right for location perhaps but surely not for period.

Now, bouquets all round to conductor, orchestra and singers and an especially large bunch of Egyptian lilies to the three leads. Claire Rutter (Aida) Jane Dutton (Amneris) and John Hudson (Radames)    Early in the Opera we get the chance to hear the celebrated ‘Celeste Aida’ and at first I thought Mr Hudson a little too laidback – but no, I was wrong; my good taste being compromised by memories of one of the ‘Three Tenors’ belting it out in concert – or perhaps it was Mario Lanza giving it a real bash as ‘The Great Caruso’.  In any case there were plenty of opportunities throughout the piece when Mr Hudson’s voice rang out as clear and loud as any philistine could wish.   Miss Rutter established herself in our high esteem in a ravishing solo in Act II, whose title I am not familiar enough with the opera to give you. Both women were splendid in their duets and trios - Amneris & Aida - Radames & Amneris -  Radames & Aida - Radames, Aida, & Amneris – Well, you know opera don’t you?  I had the feeling that unlike the other two principals, Amneris doesn’t really come into her own until the penultimate act, and in which Miss Dutton is quite splendid, both as singer and actress.  Lovely setting this from the producer, with Pharaoh’s daughter down stage and separated from the trial scene, which we see only dimly through a pierced screen, putting all our attention on the music and the words

    Priest: “Defend yourself” - silence.  Priest:“ He is silent”  - silence.  Chorus: “He must die!”.  Good stuff, eh?  Wonderful staging, wonderful set.

But then the finale and we realize opera is just about the music and its interpreters.

Here at last we are alone in a pool of light – no glittering sets, no shining costumes, no long-skirted bare-chested priests, no jolly dancers; just three superb singers and the sublime music of Guiseppe Verdi. Alone – that is apart from some seventy musicians and more than two thousand enraptured spectators.

Barry Grantham  11/10/07    

Listings information

Dates:      Thurs 8^th Tues 13^th Fri 16^th Thu 22^nd Tues 27^th Thur 29^th November

4^th and 7^th December at 7.30pm. Sat 10^th & 24^th at 6.pm.

Venue:     ENO at the Coliseum, St Martin’s Lane,London WC2N 4ES

Box Office: 0870 145 0200        www.eno.org

Tickets:  £10 - £80   Ring box office for concessions.

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