Grace and glamour

Ottorino Respighi: La bella dormente nel bosco

Respighi wrote this delightful Sleeping Beauty opera for the puppeteer Vittorio Podrecca in 1922, and though the composer later adapted it as a full-blown opera, it still has all the charm of a puppet production for children. Charm is the driving force in this production from Sardinia, beautifully presented on Blu-ray by Unitel and Naxos. When Coleridge talked about the "willing suspension of disbelief", he said that a fantastic story requires "human interest and a semblance of truth". This is amply supplied by Charles Perrault's classic story, left intact in the libretto of Claudio Guastalla, and enhanced by Respighi's music. The visual spectacle and stage effects are impressive, but it's the gorgeous music that makes this special, both as fantasy and real human interest. Though it's full of musical in-jokes - references to Wagner and Stravinsky and popular music - there's no need to worry too much about detective work, since Respighi piles up beautiful melodies one on top of the other. The grace and glamour of the whole package makes this an opera everyone - even children - can enjoy.

A post-modern pastiche redeemed by music

Leos Janacek: From the House of the Dead

Leos Janacek's final work was From the House of the Dead, his opera based on Fyodor Dostoevsky's novel. It wasn't premiered until 1930, two years after his death. Opera companies have had to make do with a version by Janacek's pupils that added a happy ending, but the recent publication of a new edition provides something more closely aligned with what Janacek originally intended. This new score has been responsible for quite a few new productions in the past couple of years, including this one from Munich. Reading reviews of the productions in Wales, London and Paris, it's probably not surprising how different each one is. Opera today often seems to be focussed less on the music, the drama, and even the personality of the singers, and has become primarily a tabula rasa upon which clever (and sometimes genuinely innovative) stage directors overwrite their own aesthetic and political ideas. That's certainly the case with Frank Castorf's intriguing staging involving on-stage videography, complex picture-in-picture sequences, and anachronisms from Trotsky to Adidas. Jean-Luc Godard's 1966 film Masculin Féminin was famously about "The Children of Marx and Coca-Cola". Castorf's vision of this opera is a similar melding: this time of the Czarist Eagle, the rites and symbols of the Orthodox Church, and a big neon Pepsi sign.

This is more or less standard post-modern pastiche, and it's often to the point, tragic and/or funny. But it can also be occasionally too much on the nose, and when it's not deliberately obscure, it is sometimes only banal. The main problem is that the opera is rather short; it runs only 90 minutes, without an intermission. The secondary problem is that neither Dostoevsky nor Janacek bothered with any overarching story, but rather strung together a series of episodes which happen in the Siberian prison location. A confusing jumble of images might be the by-product of this remix; it might even be by Castorf's design. Having the opera on Blu-ray does allow one to re-watch and gain new insights, pausing along the way to do some Wikipedia sleuthing. I admit that the work seemed more coherent the second time around. But there must have been some head-scratching an hour and a half after the curtain rose at the Staatsoper.

What sells me on Janacek's opera, though, is his music. If one can follow the dramatic sense of a scene, it's absolutely staggering what beautiful, poignant, haunting, terrifying sounds Janacek provides, over and over again. What he has done through the music is to wordlessly re-introduce the most important theme of this, and of all Dostoevsky's novels: redemption.

The Munich production shines in this regard. Simone Young's conducting of the Bayerisches Staatsorchester and Chorus is outstanding; the music is taut and naturally evolving, even as the stage action gets run through Castorf's blender. The singing, and within Castorf's limits, the acting, of the principals is marvellous. Evgeniya Sotnikova is outstanding as Aljeja in her various guises, while standouts in the otherwise all-male cast include Peter Rose, Ales Briscein and Charles Workman. I believe this production will improve each time I watch it; there's no doubt in my mind, though, that this is one of the greatest operas ever written.

Opulence and spare beauty

New York City Ballet in Paris. George Balanchine: Walpurgisnacht, Sonatine, La Valse, Symphony in C

Terry Teachout quotes Felix Mendelssohn in his marvellous book on Balanchine, All in the Dances: "The thoughts which are expressed to me by music that I love are not too indefinite to be put into words, but on the contrary, too definite." As Teachout says, "So, too, with Balanchine, whose choreographic thoughts are extraordinary precisely because they cannot be translated into mere words." That precision and clarity of thought are especially welcome when it comes to ballets based on French music, and both are evident here in this excellent compilation of four classic dances presented at the Théâtre du Châtelet in Paris in July 2016. This Blu-ray is a perfect example of High Definition: sound and picture in this opulent theatre presented with the highest fidelity, exquisite costumes, gorgeous dancers, and, most importantly, the great Balanchine tradition that goes back to the NYC Ballet premieres of these works in 1948 (Symphony in C), 1951 (La Valse), 1975 (Sonatine) and 1980 (Walpurgisnacht). The dancing here is thrilling on so many levels, and enhanced by the sensitive film direction of Vincent Bataillon (one of the film partners was PBS's Great Performances), and the production by Francois Duplat. I had the strong feeling more than once while watching these dances of losing myself in an art of beautiful lines, masses of colours and complex parabolas, all moving to the music. As Balanchine himself said, "The important thing in ballet is the movement itself. A ballet may contain a story, but the visual spectacle . . . is the essential element."  I'm not a ballet expert by any means, but I'm now officially wild about Balanchine. Teachout's book is like a kind of User's Manual for these ballets. I look forward to learning - and experiencing - more in the future.

Gorgeous bits without dramatic purpose

The Royal Ballet, Liam Scarlett, Frankenstein

Liam Scarlett's Frankenstein, which premiered in May of 2016, contains a very fine 90-minute narrative ballet buried within a 2 hour and ten minute story that somehow is both over the top and un-dramatic. It has marvellous scenes that feature three outstanding dancers: Federico Bonelli as Victor Frankenstein, Laura Moerera as his love Elizabeth, and Steven McRae as The Creature. Unfortunately Scarlett has swallowed and regurgitated whole chapters worth of exposition from Mary Shelley's novel about minor characters that obscure the main action, and more importantly take away from Shelley's themes of nature, science and the purpose of knowledge. Two scenes stood out for me: the first was a lovely dance of awakening love in the First Act between Victor and Elizabeth, which reminded me of the great Dancing in the Dark scene in The Band Wagon with Cyd Charisse and Fred Astaire. The second is the terrifying dance between Elizabeth and The Creature at the end of Act 3, and the coda with The Creature's dance with his creator. This is uncomfortable to watch, but highly original and theatrical in the best way, and at a high level.

Lowell Liebermann's music has been called cinematic, and at its best recalls some very good film composers. But narrative ballet is closer to silent cinema than modern talkies, so the music keeps churning away whether there's a reason to be there or not. That puts some significant strain on the score, and weakens its impact. Similarly, John MacFarlane's sets and costumes are quite gorgeous, but can't keep one's interest above water during long scenes with minor characters dancing, as beautifully as they all dance. The three principal dancers have great careers ahead of them, but Liam Scarlett needs to stick with short-form abstract dance, or begin a dramatic apprenticeship with a competent theatrical director.

Style and grace; warmth and humanity

Gloria in Excelsis Deo, Celebrating the completion of the recording of Bach's sacred cantatas.

In 2013 Masaaki Suzuki and his Bach Collegium Japan finished a massive 18-year project: the recording of all of J.S. Bach's sacred cantatas. All 55 SACDs are now available in a special box-set from BIS.

To mark the end of the project this film was made at the Shoin Chapel in Kobe, where all of the recordings had been made over a period of 18 years. It includes performances of three complete cantatas, BWV 30, 69 and 191, interspersed with interviews with the musicians and various interested parties. The very fine HD video and superb surround sound give you a vivid picture of how this awesome music went from Bach's mind to Maestro Suzuki's, and then to Super-Audio Compact Discs. More than just musical skills are on display here. You see the style and grace of the vocal soloists as they move from soloist roles back into the superbly integrated choral sound. The three virtuoso trumpeters, holding their instruments with one hand with their other hand on their waists, swaying to the music with the proud look of Samurai warriors. Perhaps most importantly you see the warmth and humanity of the great leader, Masaaki Suzuki, whose faith is as important as his scholarship and musicianship.

Here is an excerpt, the Dona Nobis Pacem from the B minor Mass, a coda which ends the disc.

A comic masterpiece, with tragic relief

From March 19, 2015:

Watching the superb new BluRay version of this Royal Shakespeare Company production of the two parts of Henry IV, I thought of a quote by the late Terry Pratchett: “You can’t build a plot out of jokes. You need tragic relief.” Shakespeare balances the tragic and the comic, the historical and the situational, perfectly and deftly in the first part, if a tiny bit less so in the second. Comedy is the key ingredient, but strategic doses of tragic relief move the history along and make us care for the characters. Shakespeare creates a great figure in Sir John Falstaff, and presents him in the round, literally and figuratively. Antony Sher’s portrayal is outstanding: comic, and often hilarious (rather than Elizabethan clown/jester “funny”), but also sometimes cruel, and a figure in the end of deep sadness and regret.

The true measure of this production’s success, though, is in the integration of both parts of Henry IV’s story through the most amazing cast, who all work together to present Director Gregory Doran’s (and Shakespeare’s) vision. Many cast members take multiple roles, and actors portraying noblemen might show up in the next scene as carriers or soldiers. Trevor White, outstanding as Hotspur in Part I, plays the small but key role of Lord Mowbray in II. Antony Byrne impresses as the Earl of Worcester in I, and actually get three roles in II: Rumour, a Porter, and an outrageous Pistol. Nia Gwynne is touching and sad as Lady Mortimer in the first part, and plays a hilarious and sad Doll Tearsheet in the second. This is an ensemble play in the best sense.

The plays as history present the passing of the crown from Henry IV, usurper and uneasy king, to his son, the wastrel Prince Hal who becomes Henry V. Jasper Britton is an impressive King: distracted by guilt, deathly ill, and never easy in his role. His son begins as callow as can be, and only starts his journey to true Kingship by the end of the second part. Alex Hassell retains a bit of the upper-class twit through most of both plays, with glimpses of greatness on the battlefield in Part I, and with his dying father in Part II. Henry V will have his apotheosis in his own play, and I’d love to see Hassell continue this role in that play. Meanwhile, there are plenty of sparks between Hassell and White as Hal and Hotspur have their thoroughly dramatic final confrontation at the Battle of Shrewsbury at the end of Part I. The stage fighting here is absolutely amazing, turning up the tension to a fever pitch, accelerating the action to its inevitable end.

The presentation on BluRay from Live from Stratford upon Avon is really special. The camera always seems placed just where it needs to be, whether adding sweep to a battle scene, or focussing without moving on the back of Falstaff’s head as he is rejected and humiliated by his once-friend, the new King. When the King passes and Antony Sher slowly turns to the camera, tears streaming down his face, we witness a great theatrical moment. These two discs are full of those moments. Through the magic of HD video and sound we feel that we're right there in Stratford watching.