Chorus and Orchestra of Scottish Opera
Francesco Corti
Back in the early years of the 19th Century, Scotland was the land of mystery and romance par excellence in European literary circles. They might have been a little less misty-eyed about it had any of them actually spent any time here and become a little better acquainted with its climate, but we're all entitled to our dreams. The point being that when Wagner initially considered setting the legend of the Flying Dutchman as an opera, primarily inspired by a Heine short story, he stuck to its original setting in Scotland, and it was only during the rehearsals for its first performances that it changed to Norway. There are several reasons for this, but the two most prominent are probably that a) he remembered he had had some real-life experience of a hellish storm at sea, but off the Norwegian coast, and b) someone else had beaten him to the punch, operatically speaking, and he quite understandably didn't care to be accused of plagiarism. So Norway it became, but for this new Scottish Opera production, director Harry Fehr has chosen to restore the Scottish setting, and bring it up to the 1970s in period.
To be honest, I'm still trying to figure out why. Some comments I've seen suggest that it was (partially, at least) in order to highlight the incongruity of the fantastic elements of the story (or something to that effect). Fair enough, but really, a good ghost story remains incongruous no matter what the setting. The transposition didn't shock terribly, but didn't bring any particular highlights to it either, in my opinion. I saw the ending coming a mile off (it's not quite the traditional one), it's still not clear whether there really was meant to be a fantastic element or just someone's overactive imagination, and the Dutch sailors' intervention at the start of Act 3 was, frankly, a bust. Aside from the recorded track which overpowered the orchestra (at least from where I was sitting), the parade of spectral brides was really rather Doctor Who-ish, and I'm referring to the old Who, not New Who. Which was a shame, because the act had begun very strongly.
The other thing a modernisation of the setting tends to do is to force a reconsideration of Senta in all of this. Ever since Harry Kupfer's seminal production for Bayreuth in 1978, it has become almost standard practice to portray Senta as being somewhat unbalanced, to a greater or lesser extent. This one appeared borderline autistic at first, which, as always, poses the question as to how much of what subsequently occurs actually does occur, or not. In this particular instance, however, she made no appearance during the first act, therefore casting no light (apparently) on the Dutchman's first appearance, or that of his ship, which was actually shown. I'm no good at this pop psychology stuff; I daresay I'll make up my mind in a few years' time, maybe after seeing another version! Apart from trying to sort that out, the production was not devoid of interest, presenting a solidly mundane world, but with some interesting, Turner-esque video projection and lighting effects.
The overall impact might have been different had we had a better lead as the Dutchman himself. Peteris Eglitis made a rather uninspiring figure, both visually and vocally, the voice strained and with an unpleasant edge to the timbre, particularly when pushing out higher notes. Thank goodness for Rachel Nicholls, the unquestioned star of the evening. She has a bright, clear, genuinely exciting soprano voice, almost too assertive in tone for the flinching creature she portrays at the start, but probably indicative of the determination lurking behind the insecure facade. She powered through the evening with a thrilling degree of conviction, and deserved a much better foil than Eglitis's wan Dutchman. She was better served with Jeff Gwaltney's George (Erik), one of the more convincing readings of that occasionally rather annoying character that I've heard. Sometimes his voice was a little light for the part, but not too often, and the quality of tone was certainly attractive. Add to that a not unappealing physical presence, and one could legitimately wonder what this Senta was doing throwing him over for this Dutchman. The one thing against him, and this was Fehr's doing, not Gwaltney's, was that George is presented here as a minister. It's true that the character tends to preach somewhat, but I thought this was taking things a bit too literally.
The remaining soloists were good. Scott Wilde was a jovial Donald (Daland), a little too much spread in the voice for real excellence, but robust and generally sympathetic, despite his apparent cupidity. Sarah Pring was a good Mary, not too matronly, and Nicky Spence a bright and bouncy Helmsman, a little forced right at the start, but soon settling down. Throughout, the support from the orchestra was excellent, with Corti setting well-chosen tempi, and plenty of detail in the texture. There was just a little something missing, which would have lifted their performance right out of the ordinary, but it was hard to define - perhaps a sense of the gothic, not as clearly defined as I would have liked, and the one point where it really mattered, and might have happened was, as mentioned, wrecked by the use of a recorded chorus and additional sound effects. I realise the company would have needed twice as many men in the chorus to pull it off live in real time, but still, the waking of the ghost ship at the start of Act 3 is one of the most extraordinary moments in the operatic repertory, genuinely terrifying when done correctly, and this solution was just crass. Otherwise, the choral contribution, particularly from the men, was first-rate.
[Next : 13th April]
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