SEEN AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL

A star-vehicle without its star is often a let-down and clearly the absence one like Plácido Domingo, undergoing surgery for bowel cancer, created such a vacuum that the evening was essentially doomed from the start. The Royal Opera, acknowledging that it was only Domingo’s presence that had sold-out his performances of this Handel rarity, gave those who had bought tickets to see him a small credit note ‘in recognition of the withdrawal of such an exceptional artist in a rarely-performed opera’. Clearly, Tamerlano would never have been put on without Domingo’s surprising interest in this work but whether his charismatic stage presence would have done much to avoid the gaps that opened up in the audience after the two intervals - or to prevent the stampede to the exits by those who did last the full four-and-a-half hours - I cannot say. Perhaps we might have been drawn more fully into the personal drama of the defeated Ottoman leader Bajazet, into his descent towards suicide and might have been more able to empathise with him more about his and his daughter Asteria’s plight.

For those not familiar with the opera and keen to know more, its typically convoluted eighteenth-century plot it concerns the mighty Tartar ruler, Tamerlano, who is celebrating his victory over the Turk Bajazet, and lusting after Bajazet’s daughter, Asteria - even though Tamerlano has already promised to marry Irene, a princess, and though Asteria loves the Greek prince, Andronico. After a couple of failed attempts by Asteria to murder Tamerlano, his persecution of them all ends when Bajazet commits suicide by swallowing poison – an event which shocks Tamerlano into relinquishing Asteria to Andronico and renewing his vows to Irene.

The whims and egos of the singers Handel had available to him meant that there is a rich choice of musical material available for this opera. The presence of microphones at the front of the stage was perhaps a clue that a live recording is underway and for that a very full version indeed was perhaps deemed necessary. It would take someone with much greater Handel expertise than mine to analyse everything we were hearing but I would posit that this performance was a conflation of different editions of the score(s) with fewer than usual cuts in the music. This created some problems at the end of Act III where what seemed to be the perfect climax to the opera - when Bajazet has died and Asteria leaves the stage - being followed by a strange ‘coronation’ quartet that quite seemed out-of-place and designed simply to keep us in the opera house even longer.

The ghosts of opera singers from Handel’s day haunted this performance, as might be expected in a work so reliant on conventional da capo ABC arias in which singers were given free rein in the third part to show off their florid vocal skills. Sadly, singers of the current generation have little ability for such things - and I am trying to be descriptive here rather than scornful – some their embellishments reminded me too much of the ‘Hah-Hah-Hahs’ in the music hall ‘Laughing Policeman’ song rather than real baroque artistry. These arias should dictate the pace and emotional warmth of the entire evening but what with the singers’ style of delivery - conventionally static, facing directly into the audience - often being followed by a hasty exit from the stage, the evening took on a very old-fashioned feel – just some tableaux that included some pleasant singing.

Director Richard Hudson gives us a semi-circular white set with a balcony in which his costumes add only occasional colourful Baroque-Islamic vibrancy to the stage picture. From time to time, two large concave black cut-outs emerge from either side of the stage to limit the performing area and this looked like the circle you see in films and TV when someone is supposed to be looking through a telescope. Turbaned supernumeraries parade around; perform ‘see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil’ gesticulations, gyrate, do acrobatic balancing tricks and various bird-like hand movements for no real apparent reason. At one point they process around the balcony following a troupe of small blue elephants which from a distance resembled the ducks in a shooting gallery. The stylised feel that Graham Vick has brought to this production (already seen in Florence and Madrid) is clearly derived from Persian Art of the sixteenth-century as illustrated in the programme, as are the poses that he and his choreographer Ron Howell, frequently give to those on stage.

We first see Bajazet lying beneath a giant globe on which a huge foot bears down as the universal symbol of tyranny and oppression. Bajazet rises defiantly bearing the weight of all this on his shoulders. He sings a great deal about being ‘in chains’ – except that there aren’t any - and then for four-and-half hours not much else happens.

I never thought I would ever write this in a review but I was disappointed by not hearing a counter-tenor in the title role. Apart from Bajazet, a tenor, and a few bass contributions by Vito Priante’s courtier, Leone, of whom I would have liked to hear more, all the other principals were women which restricted the tonal palette. Tamerlano is a blood thirsty pantomime villain, and Christianne Stotijn was not capable of such a leading role, vocally or dramatically. She was not helped by Graham Vick giving her a ludicrous jig to accompany her first aria making Tamerlano resemble Ricky Gervais doing his embarrassing ‘interpretative dance’ in the TV series The Office. Christianne Stotijn was one of the up-and-coming mezzos of her generation but sadly her uneven, under-projected, voice now sounds as if it needs some more work done on it – or else a good rest.

Christine Schäfer, as Bajazet’s daughter, is another singer whose reputation has been tarnished a little by these performances. Perhaps she found the Handelian style difficult to cope with? The role seemed to lie to high for her and while there was security in her chest voice, in her Act II aria ‘Se non mi vuol amar’ and elsewhere, the top of her voice was rather shrill. Sara Mingardo was making her debut at Covent Garden as Andronico; she is clearly a true contralto and her voice has an effective burnished timbre. Her Act I ‘Bella Asteria’ lacked passion however and was too introspective. She also had the same fault as most of her female colleagues and seemed to be singing for her conductor rather than projecting her voice to the Upper Slips of the opera house. By far the best female voice - and overall nuanced performance – was from another Covent Garden debutante, Renata Pokupić, as Irene. There was a remarkable clarity, smoothness and security to her first aria despite her having to sing it on the top of a three metre high decorated blue elephant that looked as if it was wearing roller skates.

And so, what about Kurt Streit who had stand in for the sad absence of Domingo? He took some time to warm up and his Act I arias ‘Forte e lieto’ and ‘Cielo e terra’ did not have the assured authority I thought they needed. However this aspect of his dramatic singing improved as the evening went on and his final leave-taking of his beloved daughter as he walked backwards along a dark table and into a black void was splendid and was delivered very poignantly. Perhaps he too did not have the necessary vocal flexibility for his faster passages but I cannot imagine Domingo matching him in such eloquent dynamics and phrasing. Nevertheless, get well soon Plácido!

In the pit – which also served as an entrance and exit for the singers – were Ivor Bolton and the exemplary Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment. Maestro Bolton contributed at the Harpsichord and would certainly have been in control to massage the accompaniment for Domingo had he been present. In his absence however, both at the keyboard and with the baton in his hand, Ivor Bolton remained sensitive to the needs of his individual singers while trying to maintain momentum to the proceedings. He seemed to be enjoying himself quite a bit and occasionally turned round to face us in the audience - perhaps he was trying to implore us to be as equally enthusiastic for this opera!

In conversation with a Covent Garden regular seated next to me, I said how good it was to hear an opera I had not heard before … ‘And will not want to hear again’ was her doleful reply. Sad but very true, I afraid!

Jim Pritchard