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Janáček, Jenůfa:  Soloists, Chorus and Orchestra of English National Opera/Eivind Gullberg Jensen. London Coliseum, 12.3. 2009 (CC)

This is a very welcome return for David Alden’s double Olivier Award winning prodution of Jenůfa. Alden’s Lucia di Lammermoor was a stunningly intelligent interpretation, and his Jenůfa similarly displays his talents. Act I’s Buryja Mill is steely gray and resolutely industrial. The lighting (consistently excellent throughout) only served to underscore the oppressive scene, as did Janáček’s obsessive repetition of melodic cells – later, it was a change in lighting that identified beyond any doubt the moment of resolve that the Kostelnička undergoes in Act II and will indeed take the baby’s life. Much of the stage is bare much of the time, with large spaces left between the characters, a technique that emphasises the essential loneliness and hopelessness of the dramatis personae. The Escher-like angles of the second act point to a distorted reality while simultaneously implying a stultifying claustrophobia.

Amanda Roocroft was the titular heroine in the original production, and returns here to deliver a searingly moving portrayal. She seems to have a special affinity with the music of Janáček, for she also impressed in the role of Mila in Osud in the 2008 Proms. Despite a strong overall cast, she remains the clear star. Technically, she has all of the requisite equipment with more to spare and always  with plenty in reserve while dramatically she tracks the journey from feisty girl through to a character of impeccable dignity forged by a sequence of soul-shredding disasters. Her depiction of her co-dependency on Števa and her facilitating of his addiction is harrowing to watch. It is impossible to pinpoint Roocroft’s finest moment. Perhaps the Act II confrontation with Kostelnička, or the prayer to the Virgin Mary, where the orchestra miraculously mirrored the singer’s tenderness?

Amanda Roocroft as Jenůfa

Susan Gorton makes an imposing Grandmother – the initial impression is that this is so much so that Kostelnička could not possibly match her. But in that role in fact, the American mezzo Michaela Martens, a singer most associated with New York’s Met, more than lives up to the expectations of the part as fearsome matriarch. Martens was steely-voiced and determined. Only when she spoke rather than sang (“I hope you enjoy yourselves here”) did her Stateside accent become apparent. Her vital contributions to Act II revealed a character tormented by shame. The lighting cast long shadows here, as if to reflect the long shadows our actions cast. It is here that Kostelnička truly comes into her own, and in fact Mertens succeeded so well that it was impossible for her Laca, Robert Brubaker, to match her, dramatically or musically. Indeed, Brubaker confirmed beyond a shadow of a doubt in Act III that despite a very good voice, his acting ability tends towards zero. False and stiff, he was uncomfortable to watch. Martens’ extended Act III confession was gripping.

Tom Randle was a macho Števa (sporting a fully functional motorcycle in Act I). He has plenty of stage presence and swagger, and his voice fully supports his characterisation. Iain Paterson, a bass-baritone with a voice that sounds as if he is a bass pure and simple, projected superbly.

The smaller roles are generally well taken. Peter Kestner, as the Mayor, is a good second-league singer; Susanna Tudor-Thomas, as his wife and dressed in an horrific green and red tartan creation, was similarly more than acceptable.

On disc, the Mackerras English version on Chandos remains a firm recommendation (I reviewed it here on MusicWeb in May 2004). It is a tribute to young Eivind Gullberg Jensen, making his UK operatic debut here with ENO, that he hardly suffered at all  in comparison. The orchestra clearly likes Jensen, for the members play their hearts out for him. Special mention should go to leader Janice Graham’s wonderfully projected solos, perhaps. Jensen brought out the folkish elements where appropriate (the Act I song about Nové Zámky, a town now designated as being in Southern Slovakia, for example), with a real feeling of unbuttoned abandon; similarly, in the more festive parts of the last act, replete with traditional Czech costumes on stage.

This is a limited run. There are only four performances of Jenůfa left at the time of writing, so best to book soon. There were precious few empty seats at the Coliseum for the present performance.

Colin Clarke

Pictures © Robert Workman

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