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SEEN AND HEARD OPERA REVIEW
              
              Mozart, Don Giovanni: 
              Soloists, 
              Orchestra and Chorus of English Touring Opera. Conductor: Michael 
              Rosewell. Arts Theatre, Cambridge. 2.5.2008 (MB)
              
              Don 
              Giovanni – Roland Wood
Leporello – Jonathan Gunthorpe
Il Commendatore – Andrew Slater
Donna Anna – Julia Sporsén
Don Ottavio – Eyjólfur Eyjólfsson
Donna Elvira – Laura Parfitt
Zerlina – Ilona Domnich
Masetto – Adrian Powter
Jonathan Munby (director)
Barnaby Rayfield (associate director)
Soutra Gilmour (designs)
            Guy Hoare 
            (lighting)
            
            
            The raison d’être of English Touring Opera is a good one, 
            indeed a very good one: performing opera across England, largely in 
            venues untouched by larger companies. On the last occasion that I 
            had heard the company, also in Cambridge, it had been with 
            Ariadne auf Naxos. I had not attended with great expectations 
            and had therefore been pleasantly surprised with a perfectly 
            respectable, often witty presentation of Strauss’s opera. If only I 
            were able to say the same about this Don Giovanni, which 
            really did not pass muster. This was a slightly cut version that 
            conformed more to Prague than to Vienna in terms of versions, 
            although not quite to either. That, however, was the least of its 
            problems.
            
            One expects a reduced, even somewhat hard-pressed orchestra in such 
            situations and, if one is reasonable, one does not expect the tonal 
            quality of the Vienna Philharmonic. But I think one has a right to 
            expect more than the scrawniness with which the strings, especially 
            the violins, presented Mozart’s score on this occasion. The 
            woodwind, however, sounded unexceptionable but perfectly acceptable, 
            as did the brass, even though the latter sounded strangely subdued; 
            for instance, it would have been good to have heard more from the 
            trombones in the ‘Stone Guest’ scene. I assume that the failing 
            woodwind during the first number of the Tafelmusik was 
            deliberate; if not, then Leporello’s reaction to it was quickly 
            improvised. However, I could not understand what was the point of 
            transforming the aria from Vicente Martin y Soler’s Una cosa rara 
            into an intimation of Siegfried’s hapless attempts to communicate 
            with the animals of the forest. Michael Rosewell kept things going 
            on, and if there was no especial insight from his interpretation and 
            there was certainly a lack of loving phrasing, there were no true 
            horrors, such as one may often be faced with in Mozart.
            
            So far, then, not quite so bad, but I am afraid there was little 
            good news elsewhere. The updating to the fascist era might have 
            worked, but did not really come off. Perhaps budgetary constraints 
            were involved here; I suspect they must have lain behind the 
            unimaginative trellis-set that formed the backdrop for almost 
            everything. Don Giovanni’s transformation into what seemed to be a 
            local police or military commander at least had the merit of 
            preserving some element of social differentiation, so crucial to 
            this work’s success. This was utterly squandered, however, by the 
            inexplicable decision to have the nobleman act as the coarsest of 
            peasants at table. Such was not reckless abandon; it was, again, 
            merely embarrassing. Moreover, the fascist salutes at various 
            junctures were more embarrassing than chilling, not least at what 
            should be that most terrifying prospect of social collapse, the 
            extended cries of ‘Viva la libertà’ (here, ‘Freedom for one and 
            all’) in the Act I finale. Balanced against that, I thought the 
            exchange of clothes between Giovanni and Leporello during the second 
            act worked better than I have often seen, partly on account of the 
            physical similarity between Roland Wood and Jonathan Gunthorpe. It 
            was when the drama demanded something more than comedy – which, I 
            should argue, is almost all of the time – that the production failed 
            to deliver. There was no sense of the metaphysical, no sense of 
            Giovanni’s almost Faustian heroism, but rather a reversion to the 
            world of burlesque – and it seemed more a case of faute de mieux
            than a challenging reversion. Many members of the audience 
            seemed to find the arrival of the Stone Guest amusing rather than 
            terrifying; I found it neither.
            
            The English translation did not help at all. I find it difficult at 
            the best of times to endure a work I know so well in anything other 
            than Lorenzo da Ponte’s skilful original libretto. Since ETO was 
            performing Bellini’s Anna Bolena in Italian, I do not 
            understand why it could not have done so with a far better-known 
            work. If translated it must be  though, it would benefit from 
            something considerably superior to the strange mixture of vaguely 
            archaic forced rhyming and free association of an ‘only slightly 
            after da Ponte’ variety.
            
            It was with the singing, however, that the gravest of problems lay. 
            First, the good news: Adrian Powter was a winning, musical Masetto, 
            far more sympathetic than one often finds him, not without his 
            violent side but also torn between differing impulses. I should 
            unhesitatingly describe his performance as a true success. Ilona 
            Domnich also made an attractive Zerlina, although her stage persona 
            was often in advance of her vocal quality. The rest of the cast 
            ranged from adequate to disastrous. Wood and Gunthorpe’s Giovanni 
            and Leporello were largely wooden and/or caricatured. There was a 
            great deal of dissociation of pit and stage, most egregiously during 
            the ‘Champagne Aria’, in which at one point singer and orchestra 
            found themselves a bar apart. Laura Parfitt just about managed the 
            notes as Elvira, albeit with little insight and a far from 
            attractive voice. Andrew Slater was underpowered as the 
            Commendatore, usually a gift of a role to a stentorian bass. As for 
            the seria couple, Don Ottavio and Donna Anna, Julia Sporsén 
            coped with her coloratura, but seemed hopelessly at sea when it came 
            to acting; she lacked dignity, let alone characterisation. Eyjólfur 
            Eyjólfsson was not too bad at acting on stage, but could barely sing 
            the role. In fact, he could not sing the role, although this minor 
            handicap did not prevent irritating applause after ‘Il mio tesoro’. 
            He emphatically did not cope with his coloratura; he was 
            often startling out of tune, and produced an unpleasant nasal tone 
            throughout.
            
            I wish I could have been more positive, and have tried to point to 
            relatively more promising aspects of the performance. Don 
            Giovanni, however, is an extremely difficult work to pull off, 
            even in the most favoured of circumstances. ETO needs to consider 
            whether it would be better advised to bring smaller, more 
            practicable, perhaps more unusual works to the stage. Should it 
            decide against, then it really must do better than this in 
            mainstream repertoire.
            
            
            Mark Berry

