Originally released
in 1990 by EMI this English language
double CD box has been revivified by
the increasingly bold and wide-ranging
Chandos team. For that we should be
grateful because this is a most sympathetically
sung and conducted Vixen with an almost
Puccinian lyricism and warmth. One measure
of the success can be heard in the subtlety
with which Rattle unfolds orchestral
strands; in the Act I Pantomine and
Interlude he takes the greatest possible
care to draw out the flute lines and
distinguish them from the other winds
and from the buffet of string tone.
The result is to preserve the verdancy
of orchestration at this point and to
characterise the supportive tissue with
greater depth. It’s a feature of Rattle’s
conducting that he lavishes exceptional
attention to this kind of detail whilst
never impeding the dramatic tension
of the opera. His is one of the most
purely lyrical and effulgent readings
of the score I have heard – he extracts
marvellously flexible string playing
in the mid-Act Interlude, and in the
Vixen’s passage beginning Can it
be that I am lovely? It’s true to
say that the Interludes have seldom
been conducted with such consistently
tactile glow or that the Straussian
inheritance (Act III Fox; How many
children do we have?) has only infrequently
emerged with such eloquent understatement.
The singers make a
uniformly integrated and attractive
team. The Forester is Thomas Allen;
Robert Tear takes Mosquito and the Schoolmaster
and Gwynne Howell the Badger and the
Priest. John Dobson should certainly
not be overlooked as the innkeeper Pásek.
Allen has an ease of voice production
and a stage command that are very appealing;
Tear grows in depth and self-realisation
whilst Howell blusters excellently as
the Priest. Dobson’s turn is a study
in beery drama. The men are matched
by the women; The Vixen (Vixen Sharp-Ears)
is Lillian Watson whose sense of line
and lyricism entirely complement Rattle’s
own. Diana Montague’s Fox is also eloquence
itself though at times there are such
tonal similarities between the voices
that a sense of abrupt characterisation
momentarily disappears. Karen Shelby
makes a real show as the Dog – what
has happened to her? – and Gillian Knight
makes no less of an appeal in her dual
roles of the Forester’s Wife and the
Owl.
The production is in
English of course and for many this
will be the sticking point though there
are far fewer obvious problems than
you might imagine with the first vowel
stress of Czech. That said there is
a language issue at stake and this,
taken simultaneously with Rattle’s overt
lyricism,
tends somewhat to smooth over the more
resinous forestry of Czech performances.
Obviously Dalibor Jedlička and
Lucia Popp are impossible to efface
in the Mackerras recording – with Blachut
turning up as the Schoolmaster for good
measure – and the latter’s conducting
represents a leaner and less obviously
lyrical approach. Where Rattle’s forest
is frequently bathed in sunlight Mackerras’
is more shadowed. I like the former
but I take the latter to be the more
effective realisation of the score and
its essential truth.
The booklet notes are
in English, French and German though
the libretto is only in English. For
all the language and interpretative
issues it’s good to have this often
thrilling set back in the catalogue;
Chandos are doing us proud in their
selective and astute reclamation of
such material.
Jonathan Woolf
Royal Opera House Chorus, Covent Garden 