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Verdi, Aida: (new production) Various soloists, chorus and orchestra of English National Opera, conducted by Edward Gardner, Jo Davies (director), Zandra Rhodes (designer), Costumes realised by Melissa Graff, Bruno Poet (lighting designer), London Coliseum. 10.11.2007 (JPr)

When I go to the ballet,  I often watch dancers recreating exactly the steps of their legendary predecessors choreographed when the ballet was new,  some thirty years previously, possibly  wearing the same costumes and definitely dancing on the same sets. We watch this kind of thing admiringly and uncomplainingly.  Opera seems a different matter however, apparently haunted by Wagner’s maxim ‘Kinder, macht neues!’ (‘Children, do something new’.)  Wagner wanted his works to be continually reinvigorated for the audience of the day and this seems to have driven opera producers and music critics to distraction ever since, regardless of composer.

So somewhat incredulously, I read that the first new English National production of Aida since the 1970s, would in previous times 'have explored such challenging political issues as triumphalism, colonialism and anti-clericalism’ instead of presenting, in that critic’s opinion, something verging on a ‘pantomime’. The phrase ‘Get a life!’ seems apt here:  I am never going to go to see Aida because I want to understand Hegel’s philosophy better. Verdi wrote the opera as his powers were diminishing and he desperately needed the 150,000 lire on offer from Ismail Pasha, Khedive of Egypt -  who commissioned him on the understanding that the work  would be performed in January 1871. The première was delayed because of the Franco-Prussian War and Aida eventually opened in December.  Aida  was never written to celebrate the 1869 opening of the Suez Canal, nor the Cairo Opera House (which opened with  Rigoletto) in the same year. Verdi was asked to compose an ode for the opening of the Canal, but refused on the grounds that he did not write ‘occasional pieces.’

The sets and costumes here were by Zandra Rhodes, doyenne of British fashion, whose loud creations have often been inspired by nature organic materials. Her ancient Egypt is a vision in turquoise, gold and ultramarine - rather than the fuchsia which she usually favours, for not only her frocks but also her hair. There are vast amounts of jewellery and the exquisitely detailed costumes which obviously draw on the designer’s well-known own Egyptian collection, inspired by a trip she made to the Valley of the Kings some years ago. The fact that  the Tutankhamen exhibition opens in London shortly cannot have been far from her mind in the ‘coincidence’ of this opera being put on at the same time and Gwynne Howell’s Pharaoh is costumed rather like an ancient version of the boy king. The elephant in the triumphal march is a splendid recreation that could have wandered in from the Notting Hill Carnival. It has  silk banners for ears and a trunk with tusks on a pole … did you expect a real one?

Much has been made in a ‘nudge-nudge, wink-wink’ sort of way about the bare-chested priests in pleated gold skirts and turquoise sashes and apparently ‘funny, stick-on’ beards. Unfortunately none of the reviewers  making these comments seem to have been to Egypt or know anything of life their in ancient times. So far as I can see, ancient Egyptians dressed like that,  wore beards like that and adorned their massive columns in precisely the colours shown in this prociction. It's true of course that  the toy-theatre inspired sets and scrims with Bruno Poet’s mostly sunny lighting do not always work for moments of intimacy such as for Aida’s Act I ‘A conqueror return!’ (‘Ritorna vincitor!’) when dark curtains simply  close and leave her alone on a vast stage. Elswhere however, sliding panels created triangular shapes hinting at pyramids and these never worked better than in the closing scene when Aida and Radames expire entombed in an embrace. A potent motif throughout was the Eye of Horus, believed by the Egyptians to have healing and protective powers. I for one was drawn into the whole thing and there was thankfully a lack of campery. But then I never sat down in the Coliseum expecting a real pyramid and sand dunes to be on stage.

We could have a modern retelling of course, with an American soldier falling in love with a Muslim girl in war-torn Baghdad but I didn’t want that and nor will most of the audience that will flock to this production. I have waited a long time for the return of ‘Grand Opera’ to London’s principal opera houses complete with its ridiculous larger than life stories, singers and voices. That  was the type of evening that got me first interested in opera decades ago, pure spectacle with exciting voices, music and some drama. My first Aida was in Vienna with Gianni Raimondi as a memorable Radames and a triumphal march of hundreds and I was also at the first night of the last new Aida at the Coliseum nearly a quarter of a century ago.  Zandra Rhodes and director, Jo Davies, did enough for me to want to see their version again sometime.

The principals were big people with stentorian voices to match. Their eye-rolling and accompanying arm-waving gestures were of stock-variety type and they strode this way and that across the vast Coliseum stage front to give a sense of size to the proceedings, hinting at the immensity of  Egyptian palaces and plateaus. None of this mattered very much; my own quibbles were the cute ‘King and I’ moment with one adult and a few children doing a Kathak dance as the ‘slaves’ in the opening scene of Act II and the strange costumes for the Ethiopian warriors, a cross between Aborigines and Rastafarians.

John Hudson (Radames) has to set the musical standard straight off and is in a no-win situation with his opening ‘Goddess Aida’ aria. One of his forte top B flats had a slight gear change but he held on and showed a most delicate pianissimo morendo at the end and throughout the evening: even if this  was not the most lyrical tenor voice it had a robust quality I never expected to hear ever again at ENO. Jane Dutton’s Amneris began with a woeful wobble as though she had not warmed up but she certainly had done by her blazing recriminations of guilt in Act IV.  I, too, had warmed to her gripping performance. Claire Rutter’s Aida was strongly and mostly securely sung throughout - she too had a momentary blip in the top C in her Act III Romanza ‘Ah, dearest homeland’ but that passed and the rest often heartfelt and affecting. Her persona however had slightly too much of the notorious English reserve perhaps,  and I felt she could have found more of the inner diva in herself.

Actually,  probably  the best vocal performance was by Iain Paterson, an almost perfect Verdi baritone,  who portrayed Amonasro very threateningly,  embodying all of  the defeated king’s desire for revenge. Gwynne Howell as the Pharaoh was his normal impassive self and Bradley Sherratt was a potent Chief Priest.

The enhanced ENO chorus were on stunning form,  as was the orchestra under their music director Edward Gardner. This was the first time I had heard him conduct and I must say I was impressed. He looks as though the DNA of Mark Elder and Antonio Pappano has somehow been engineered into one conductor. There was some impetuosity of youth since more lyrical passages could have been given more chance to breathe,  but it was all exhilarating stuff with a steady ensemble between pit and stage and a wealth of orchestral detail to be heard,  particularly from the woodwinds.

My one minor moan – those English surtitles for opera in English. The translation sung was the very serviceable one by Edmund Tracey who sadly died earlier this year. Surtitles were certainly useful when I saw ENO’s The Coronation of Poppea but here they annoyed me because when the music is so familiar surtitles seem   a bit like ‘Opera Karaoke’. Quite often from ‘Goddess Aida’ near the beginning to ‘Peace I implore you’ at the end , I caught myself singing along under my breath!

 

Jim Pritchard

 

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