Piotr Beczała - Italian and Polish Art Song Wigmore Hall

Piotr Beczała - photo Anja Frora

Can Piotr Beczała sing the pants off Jonas Kaufmann ? Beczała is a major celebrity who could fill a big house, like Kaufmann does, and at Kaufmann prices.  Instead, Beczała  and Helmut Deutsch reached out to that truly dedicated core audience that has made the reputation of the Wigmore Hall : an audience which takes music seriously enough to stretch themselves with an eclectic evening of Polish and Italian song.

The two parts of the programme reflected two aspects of Beczała's artistic persona. As an opera singer, he has sung in Italian, German, French,  Russian, Czech and Polish.  The Italian songs  he chose for this occasion showed the dramatic possibilities in art song - art song for opera singers, vehicles for technique and expressiveness.  The programme began with three songs from 36 Arie di stile antico by Stefano Donaudy (1879-1925), a Sicilian contemporary of Puccini's, which were taken up soon after publication by singers like Caruso and Tito Schipa.  Beczała's crisp diction made Freschi luoghi, prati aulenti sparkle, contrasting well with the darker O del mio amato ben. Followed by  four songs from 8 rispetti by Ermanno Wolf-Ferrari (1876-1948). Although Ottorino Respighi wrote operas, he also composed a substantial body of orchestral and chamber music.  The songs on this programe thus represent an approach to art song which favours the more private, personal medium of voice and piano. The songs of Paolo Tosti (1846-1916)served as a bridge between Donaudy and Wolf-Ferrari and Respighi.

The second part of the programme focused on Beczała's Polish roots. Throughout his career, he has made a point of promoting Poland's rich musical heritage.  He sang The Shepherd in Karol Szymanowski's Król Roger in the 2003 Warsaw production, and has also done many of the composer’s songs for male voice.  For this Wigmore Hall recital Beczała chose Szymanowski's Sześć pieśni (Six Songs), his op  2, completed when he was still a student, aged 18. Significantly, all are also settings of living poets, contemporaries of the composer.  Although Szymanowski was to make his name as a cosmopolitan sophisticate, these songs show that his Polish identity went deep. The texts here were by Kazimierz Przerwa-Tetmajer (1860-1940) . Przerwa-Tetmajer was both a nationalist and modernist, given that Secessionism and Symbolism were forces for renewal, all over Europe.  Each of these poems is brief, but the imagery is so concentrated that meaning is left deliberately elusive. The first two songs, in a minor key, are autumnal, but the strong piano part suggests resolve. In both songs, rise the image of a woman who may no longer exist. With the third song,  We mgłach (In the Mist) the vocal line curves mysteriously, like the mists and streams in the evening cool.  What's happening ? "Bez dna, bez dna! bez granic!" sings Majzner, (No bottom, no bottom, without borders!).  In dreams, the poet hears mysterious voices calling . In the last song, Pielgrzym, the line rises, swelling with hope. "Gdziekolwiek zwrócę krok, wszędzie mi jedno, na północ pójdę, czyli na południe", (Everywhere I turn, from the north I will go south)   Immediately one thinks of the Persian Song of the Night in Szymanowski’s Symphony no 3 and in the Shepherd in the opera Król Roger whose singing changes the King's life.  

Mieczław Karłowicz (1876-1909) and Szymanowski were influenced by the Young Poland movement, a literary and artistic aesthetic not dissimilar to the Secession in Munich and Vienna, but with specifically nationalist elements.  Pointedly, Beczała and Deutsch paired the early Szymanowski songs with Karłowicz's settings of poems by the same Kazimierz Przerwa-Tetmajer . Indeed, both set the same text,  Czasem, gdy długo na pół sennie marżę (Sometimes when long I drowsily dream) which describes a strange, disembodied voice, heard in a dream. "I do not know if this is loive, or death, that sings" .  The piano part in Karłowicz's version is particularly sophisticated, suggesting perhaps Liszt or Chopin, though the style is distinctiely fin de siècle.  In Na spokojnnym, ciemnym morzu (On the calm, dark sea)  (op3 no 4 1896) the poet imagines sinking into oblivion. "Let me revel in Nothingness".  In recitals, reading the text while listening is not a good idea. You might get the words, but you cut yourself off from nuance and musical truth. Much, much better to concentrate on singer and pianist and use your intuition. Because Beczała and Deutsch are so very good at what they do, intuitive listening was surprisingly accurate.  The moody piano part suggested strange dissonance, and the edge in Beczała's voice suggested psychic anomie. The stillness in  W wieczorną ciszę (In the calm of the evening) (op3 no 8) is ominous.  Again, the poet disassociates from the world. perishing "in the dark emptiness".  The Przerwa-Tetmajer texts are so surreal that they evoke very fine expression from Karłowicz.   Ironically, the composer died young,  killed while skiing in the mountains.

Also from Karłowicz's op 3 are the songs Przed nocą wieczną (Before eternal night) and Zaczarowana królewna (The Enchanted Princess) settings respectively of Zygmunt Krasinski and Adam Asnyk, receiving relatively more straightforward treatment from the composer, but as evocatively performed by Beczała and Deutsch. Beczała has appeared in several Polish operas, including Stanisław Monicuisko's Halka and Straszny dwór  (The Haunted Manor) - please read about that here.  After the intensity of the very beautiful Karłowicz songs, the Monicuisko songs were rather more down to earth.  Monicuisko (1819-1872) reflected an earlier aesthetic than that of Karłowicz : more nationalistic, closer to Smetana than to the world at the turn of the 20th century.  Thus robust songs about sweethearts and spinning wheels, complete with atmospheric piano figures, and Polna różyczka so vividly sung by Beczała  that it was instantly recognizable as a setting of Goethe's Heidenröslein, without needing translation.  Then  Monicuisko's Krawkowiaczek (The Krakow Boy) who fools around but loves only Halka.  For an encore, another wonderful Karłowicz  song The Golden years of Childhood.  "It's my favourite" said Beczała : almost as well crafted as the Przerwa-Tetmajer songs but warmer and cheerier.

Comic book shallow Lohengrin, Bayreuth

photo : Bayreuther Festspiele : E Narwath

 When Piotr Beczała jumped in for Lohengrin at Bayreuth, I breathed a sigh of relief. If Roberto Alagna couldn't be bothered to learn the part for the highest profile Wagner mecca in the world, he should stick to other things. Though there were a few moments when his voice sounded pushed - hardly surprising since he jumped in at short notice - Beczała is a natural Lohengrin, with the right purity and ping.  He's at least thought about who Lohengrin might be, which ought to be the starting point of any production.  Why is Lohengrin so touchy about revealing his identity ? If he believes in love, should't he at least acknowledge Elsa's need to know who she might be sleeping with  "If" might be the operative word. Lohengrin carries cosmic baggage.  Beczała created a "human" Lohengrin, ethereal and sublime, but also a man with conflicts.  Wagner poses questions : it's up to us to figure out possible answers.  Alas, this production, directed by Yuval Sharon, goes out of its way to avoid depth of thought or understanding.

Is Wagner without ideas Wagner at all  ?  Sharon gives us comic book shallowness, cutesy visuals that resolutely defy anything more than surface engagement.  Lohengrin isn't a fairy tale. Though parts of the plot are fantasy, the drama unfolds against a background of tension and metaphysical disintegration. King Heinrich comes to Brabant to mobilize Christendom against the barbarians of the East, and Ortrud represents a tradition even older than Christianity.  Replace that with faux-medieval costumes, origami collars and cartoon psychology and reduce the opera to picture book emptiness.   Blue light does not in itself tell the story, even if it fulfils the modern diktat that opera should above all be pretty to look at in isolated stills. How can  Lohengrin be merely "beautiful" when horrific cosmic forces  are being unleashed all round  ? 

Christian Thielemann's conducting is divine, but even with a good cast,  he's not a magician. We now live in times so bombarded by TV-realism and audio-only listening that we may have lost the art of visual literacy.  Visual literacy is like poetry.  Just as music is more than the markings on page, you have to engage with the oblique and ambiguous, one way or another. there's never any single answer.  Refusing to think in the first place is no answer at all.   As in poetry, meaning reveals itself slowly, and evolves.  Modern audiences, used to judging things from single images, like photos, are conditioned to think like Beckmesser, marking their slates as fast as they can, without really paying attention.  Sachs was different.

So we see Elsa (Anja Harteros) with moth wings on her back ?   Of course she's vulnerable, but she's a lot more than anonymous cipher.  What's that coil behind her ? If Sharon is suggesting Elsa's a bug drawn to bright light, it's an image that doesn't go very far and isn't developed.  So we see swords embedded in the ground. Vaguely phallic, but there's more to Lohengrin than sex.  On the 3Sat broadcast, we could see Telramund (Tomacz Konieczny) and Ortrud (Waltraud Meier), lit up against the darkness, which might either have been a comment on their situatiion or a chance to get away from the cutesy staging.  Ortrud is an unsympathetic part, especially in contrast to Elsa. But there;s a lot more to it, which Meier in her prime might have made more of.  Here, she's fine to listen to, but she doesn't inhabit the part as she she would have done in the past, and isn't helped by the non-directing. Harteros is a fine Elsa, but why the grey wig. Images should hint at something, not merely exist as decoration. Why is a guy painting in oils before the entry of the Herald ?   Another possible image that goes nowhere.  Even more telling, Georg Zeppenfeld's King Heinrich, so well characterized in the recent Royal Opera House Lohengrin (please read more here), seemed sidelined in Bayreuth.  Butterfly wings appear on Ortrud and also on Lohengrin, for no apparent purpose.  the insect imagery seemed a direct steal from the Neuenfel's rats Lohengrin, which was much better thought through. (Please read more here)

Wonderful orchestra and chorus for the wedding scene, but I couldn't understand the brightly coloured pillars.  You don't need to get everything at once, and good stagings can take a while to digest, but this baffled me.  The coils again   The rope might signify the ties that bind, but as we know, this isn't a marriage that will last, and the violence against women in this opera doesn't come just from Lohengrin, but more so from the people of Brabant.  Thank goodness again for Beczała singing sublimely, clear, ringing tones warmed with sincerity and tenderness. Magnificent orchestral, playing for the scenee of the banks of the Scheldt, but comic book staging again, complete with cardboard cut-outs.  Later Lohengrin's sword becomes a thunderbolt and Lohengrin shows Elsa a box with a light, by way of explainging who he is.  The feeble electric coil/moth imagery again !  It's cute, but delimiting. Then little brother Gottfried wanders in, a green Lego figure against Elsa's orange and the blue all round.  This Lohengrin should be popular with audiences who prize fairy tale prettiness but arguably that isn't what Lohengrin, or Wagner, for that matter, might be about. Thank goodness, all the more,  for Piotr Beczała, Thielemann and the rest of the cast for saving the show.

What fuss? La Traviata La Scala Milan

Is scandal such a tradition at opening nights at the Teatro alla Scala Milan that the loggione are forced to boo for the sake of booing? Last week, at La Traviata, they booed Piotr Beczala for the first time in his career. He was so shocked he vowed not to return. Good for him! It's about time someone stood up to the kind of mob who think it's their right to treat singers like gladiators,.

Beczala has sung Alfredo so many times that it's highly unlikely he'd do anything so bad it would justify being booed. Though Beczala has been better, he's so good that he always gives good value. Daniele Gatti's conducting was straightforward if uninspired. That's no crime. This was the house that raged against Callas and was pro and contra Muti with a vengeance.

Being a thorough professional, Beczala's initial reaction was to wonder why.  Diana Damrau was cheered, so it can't just have been the production. He didn't "actually agree with the vision of my character by stage director, but I played it as good I could". No surprise in that either. Although Beczala's tastes are conservative, he has integrity. He triumphed in the "Ratpack" Rigoletto at the Met, transposed to Las Vegas. Dmitri Tcherniakov's La Traviata for La Scala was meek in comparison. For one thing, it wasn't really "modern dress". The set was traditional - casino with chandeliers, a country farmhouse, and a garret with big shuttered windows, as in the stage directions. The script also specifies the bottles of medicine around her. Annina has short red hair, but so what? The costumes were run of the mill evening dress, dull rather than shocking. Someone  wears a Red Indian headress, another has a blonde afro. Silly, but daft rather than maddening. These are the "gypsies" who crash the gambling party to entertain, so perhaps we can allow them tacky taste.The real problem with this production is that it's clueless.

Diana Damrau doesn't look in the least bit tubercular. But how could anyone sing the death arias if they really were on the point of expiring? Violetta and Alfredo play about in a kitchen. Again, what's the big deal;  they're doing a Petit Trianon out in the countryside, so why not? They're acting out a pastoral fantasy. When Germont (Zeljko Lucic) arrives, he's such a nice guy that Violetta knows where he's coming from. Damrau's healthy sturdiness suggest that maybe Violetta was once a girl from the countryside with simple values (hence the cooking). She's not a put upon victim or she'd never have risen to the top of her cut-throat profession.To her credit, Violetta can understand other people's perspectives, even if they're not her own.
 
The "Traviata" syndrome is certainly not confined by place and time.  Puccini's La Rondine deals with a similar theme. Even today, many families would be upset if their young son took up with an older ex-prostitute. Provincials like famille Germont are just more conservative than the racy folk Violetta hangs out with. Human  nature doesn't really change. There always will be people scared of what others will think, and people like Violetta who care about others more about themselves.Like most of Tcherniakov's work,  La Traviata isn't offensive except to extremists and those who boo for the pleasure of hating. But, apart from the singing, it's boring.

La Traviata, Royal Opera House - perceptive, different

Outstanding Verdi La Traviata at the Royal Opera House, London. Richard Eyre's 1992 staging may have been revived many times, but this production reveals striking new depths of interpretation. Good singing is never routine. this production will be memorable because it highlights deeper aspects of the opera.

Verdi writes gloriously for Violetta, so it's a star vehicle for any soprano. But Violetta doesn't exist in isolation. Although the many great singers who have created the part ensure that Violetta is central to the opera, she doesn't exist in isolation. The drama evolves around the changing relationships between Violetta, Alfredo and Germont. This current production is important because Piotr Beczala's Alfredo brings out the full complexity in Alfredo's personality. Beczala is passionate about historic tenor traditions and this awareness infuses his performance. (Read more about him in this interview). This superb performance proves how important highly experienced high quality casting can be. La Traviata can be as much about Germont family values as it is about Violetta,

We can perhaps understand why Violetta is in her profession, but Alfredo poses more difficult questions. What kind of man gives up family and status for a demi-mondaine? It's much more than youthful lust. Even Violetta doesn't believe him at first, but she's persuaded by his intensity.Verdi pointedly raises the emotional stakes with the rousing Libiam ne'lieti calici. It's more than a drinking song, it's a hymn to life.

Because Beczala takes his cue from the music, his Alfredo is infinitely more than a lightweight charmer. The energy in his singing suggests that Alfredo represents an affirmative life-force, in contrast to the shallowness of life on the party circuit. Verdi is making a strong moral statement. Beczala's Alfredo expresses the strength in the character - firm phrasing, vibrant colour and absolute technical control. Beczala sings the high "Lavero!" at the end of the cabaletta so rings out with a confident flourish. Beczala's lucid elegance shows that Alfredo's emotional depth springs from strength of character.

Beczala's Alfredo also emphasizes the relationship between father and son, a connection sometimes under-estimated. Simon Keenlyside sings Giorgio Germont with gravitas. There's real chemistry between Keenlyside and Beczala. Their dialogues bristle with the bitter energy of shifting father/son power struggle, but the richness of the singing suggests fundamental warmth. One senses that after Violetta is is gone, Alfredo and his father will have an ever stronger connection. Lovely "pura siccome un angelo", so this family will thrive. Keenlyside's acting was stiffer than his singing.. He used his stick, not with a swagger, but more as a crutch, as if he had a real life injury. Keenlyside is an athlete and has mishaps. Usually, he's much more animated..


Expectations were high for Ailyn Peréz after the publicity generated during the Royal Opera House's Japan tour, last year, where she stood in after both Angela Gheorghiu and Ermolena Jaho had to cancel at the last moment. Heroic circumstances. Last month, at the Placido Domingo Celebration, she sang a pleasant if unremarkable Gilda. Her Violetta was attractive enough  allowing for uneven intonation and odd phrasing, which she might overcome with experience. One day perhaps she'll be able to act with her voice, so her gestures come from within. The scene where Violetta squirms in horror as Alfredo enters the casino was unconvincing, though Peréz warmed up, ironically, in the final act. Although Violetta's music is so well written it cannot help but impress, the role is complex and by no means "pretty". She's much more than a projection of male fantasy. Violetta fascinates Alfredo because he can sense in her something others can't, so whoever sings the part needs to suggest what that special quality might be.

Rodula Gaitanou was until only last year a Jette Parker Young Artist. Her Haydn L'isola disabitata at the Linbury was extremely mature for someone so young (read about it HERE) so it's good that she's directing a high profile production like this. In a revival, the moves may be the same, but the way they're done makes all the difference between dull repeat and fresh enthusiam. Gaitanou's precision illuminates another sub-theme of this opera that's often overlooked. The gambling table is a metaphor for fate. It's mechanical, and in Eyre's original concept, dominates the stage like a juggernaut. The gypsies dance in strict formation, though they sing of love and freedom.  There's something quite sinister about the bacchanale. So the crowd scenes are tightly executed to express this tension, while subsidiary roles like Flora (Hanna Hipp), Gastone (Jin Hyun Kim), D'Obigny (Daniel Grice), Douphol (Eddie Wade), Dr Grenvil (Christophoros Stamboglis) and Annina (Gaynor Keeble) stand out as individuals, doing justice to excellent singing. It's a pity that the conducting (Patrick Lange) was erratic, especially since he comes with good credentials (Chief Conductor at the Komische Oper, Berlin).

There's no such thing as a staging that lets a story tell itself.  In a good production, clues are always present if you're alert to them. Bob Crowley's set may look "traditional" but it comments powerfully on the drama.  In Act One, the diagonals in the set seem to be caving in on the stage, warning that something's awry. At the centre of the famous country house scene is a doorway which opens onto a trompe-l'œil suggesting many distant doorways beyond. Everything is illusion, even the "books" on the shelves are painted, not real, Grand paintings are haphazardly strewn across the floor. In the final act, behind Violetta's deathbed looms a giant picture frame covered in black, as portraits used to be covered when a person died. For a brief moment, Alfredo's image is projected onto the cloth, but fades. Mirrors, a dressmaking dummy, and  huge, overpowering shutters, all of which add to meaning. This is a beautiful production but it's also intelligent. With casts like this, revivals ae fully justified.

A full review will appear shortly in Opera Today.
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Photos copyright Catherine Ashmore, coutesy Royal Opera House (details embedded)

La Traviata, Royal Opera House - unusual, different

I never thought I'd need to say it, but get to this current run of Verdi La Traviata at the Royal Opera House. Outstanding singing - the best all year. Even more interesting, it's different because Piotr Beczala's Alfredo is so strongly charactrized that for a change, Alfredo is the story. Usually the focus is on Violetta, and often on Germont, so Alfredos get taken by relative lightweights, good on charm but without depth. Beczala on the other hand is one of the most experienced Alfredos around, so the subtle change in balance brings insight. That's why this La Traviata is unique, even though we think we know the opera well.

Who is Alfredo, really? Why has he chosen an unsuitable woman in the first place? Why does he have the strength of character to elope with her and stand up to his father, and defy social convention? As Beczala says in this interview in Opera Today, Alfredo is struggling to make his own way in life, because young people need to rebel to find themselves. But Alfredo is a lot like his father. Both are strong-willed personalities, so sure of themselves they're blind to other people's feelings. Both have tempers. Yet, ultimately both are noble spirits who can change when they learn from their mistakes. So Beczala's interpretation is very deep indeed. And his singing's divine - the high "Lavero!" at the end of the cabaletta rings out with a flourish, totally confident. Read the interview also to see what inspires and motivates Beczala. I've loved his work since his early days with Zurich Opera, and he's developed so well.

Here is a more comprehensive review and fuller still the one which will appear in Opera Today. My way of assessing a performance comes from analysing how and why it expresses an opera. I love this Richard Eyre production because this set silent and very perceptive comment on the story. But you have to be alert to pick up the signals. No matter how many times you've been to this La Traviata, you'll get a lot more from this run than you'd expect !

Szymanowski Krol Roger Bregenz DVD

It's interesting when you get to know an opera through recordings and then come to a filmed version.  Karol Szymanowski's Krol Roger became famous outside Poland (where it's now regular repertoire) when Simon Rattle recorded it, while he was still in Birmingham. Thomas Hampson sings the King, reason itself for making it a classic. Highly recommended too is the 2004 recording from Warsaw conducted by Jacek Kaspszyck. That has Piotyr Beczala as the Shepherd - divine!

This new DVD, from the Bregenzer Festspeile in 2009, has its merits. Mark Elder conducts the Wiener Symphoniker, so orchestrally this is good, clean and clear. However, after having heard Pierre Boulez's recent recording of Szymanowski,  no-one else stands comparison. (Amazing recording, review to follow) Vocally, this Bregenzer performance doesn't break new ground, either, though it's pleasant enough. Scott Hendriks sings the King, Olga Pasichnyk Roxana the Queen and Will Hartmann is the Shepherd. Pasichnyk's Roxana Song is gorgeous, and cuts sublimely through all round her. Goosebumps!

The downside of this DVD, though, is the production, directed by David Pountney. The First Act's Byzantine marble church becomes a  series of cool "marble" steps with funnels of crystal that emit coloured light. Elegant, perhaps evoking art deco lines, though the style's a little early for the opera, which Szymanowski started in 1918.  Nonetheless, it's attractive and fits the idea of a Court and Church desiccated by formality, described in the libretto. The Court worships a chaste Christ and don't take kindly to the alternative "Good Shepherd" who appears. This Shepherd's God holds grapes in his hands and wears a headdress of ivy : Dionysius, though the text doesn't name him. In Pountney's production the mysterious forest groves and pools are created through green light

Even more shocking is the Shepherd's claim that his God is "as beautiful as I am". Roxane almost immediately succumbs and later willingly sacrifices herself to this new God that praises lust. Krol Roger, being King, has a responsibility to the old God, so takes a while longer to to react. Eventually, he too declares for the Shepherd. The cool marble hall then becomes a giant melamine chopping block, everyone covered in fake blood with dancers dressed in animal heads. It's not nearly as abattoir-like as might seem, and certainly the text refers to blood sacrifice.

But why? What does Szymanowski mean? His many references to Byzantium, to "lotus flowers" and the exotic East are easy to understand in the context of his work as a whole. Maybe the Shepherd represents a more sensual alternative to mainstream Christianity . By cloaking the Shepherd in gold and circling him with fire, perhaps Pountney wants us to think of him as a brazen idol. But why should the King be so disturbed?  There's a strong homo-erotic undercurrent. Certainly Edrisi, the King's adviser, hints that the King doesn't really connect to the Queen in ways that matter. She pops up from between his legs, singing her elusive song. The costumes (Marie-Jeanne Lecca) tell the story. The shepherd appears in a red dress similar to the Queen's, complete with rose (symbolic in the text) and Krol Roger is gradually seduced, until he, too, wears a facsimile of the gown. Why Roxanne's bony and bald, I'm not sure, but it destroys her femininity. At the end, Krol Roger plucks his heart from his breast, symbolically united with the morning sun. Christ, Church and Kingdom, all sacrificed.

Having learned the opera from good recordings I guess I've developed images in my imagination that derive from the freakily hyper exotic colours in the music and haven't worried too much about why.  Each new production means taking on board someone else's point of view which is valid enough in this case. But I suspect it exposes something in Szymanowski's vision. He was probably gay in a society which even now is homophobic. The deliberately anti-Christian message of this opera wouldn't sit well with devoutly Catholic Poland. Definitely not  Pope John Paul II's style. Nor too popular with Communists, either. But what makes it such a seductive vision is the music. It's so beautiful that it makes everything seem possible, however illogical or kinky. photos : Karl Forster, Bregenz Festspiele

Gounod Roméo et Juliette Beczala

In many ways, Charles Gounod's Roméo et Juliette is more musical than opera. Everyone knows the story and no-one can compete with Shakespeare as dramatist. So Gounod wisely focuses on big musical showpieces. Which is why the opera's reputation is based on stellar performances, of which there are many. Last night at the Royal Opera House, Piotr Beczala sang a remarkable Roméo, beautifully toned yet with genuine personality. He's relatively new to the role, creating it at Salzburg in 2008 and repeating it there in August 2010.

Nino Machaidze sang Juliette at Salzburg, too, though earlier performances in the run featured Anna Netrebko. Beczala and Machaidze were excellent choices for this second revival of Nicholas Joel's 1994 production at the Royal Opera House.  Different staging to Salzburg, but the carry-over worked well.  There wasn't much Personienregie in Stephen Barlow's direction, and movement was staid and immobile, against a picture postcard set. It's worrying when the best direction comes in the fight scenes (Philip Stafford). However, Gounod's material doesn't lend itself to intellectual depth, so singing makes or breaks performance. Fresh from Salzburg, Beczala and Machaidze were invigorated and carried the whole production.

Beczala's Roméo defined the entire performance. Perfect pitch control. luscious timbre. Although his arias aren't all that long he creates maximum impact. Wonderful and deeply expressive L' amour, oui, son ardeur a troublé tout mon être!. The love duets were beautiful, even if Beczala overshadows Machaidze's Juliette – but that's not surprising, he's just more experienced. (as is Roméo for that matter). With Netrebko he must have been superb. In the last act, Beczala's Salut, tombeau sombre et silencieux!, beautifully modulated, emotionally profound. I loved Beczala's Shepherd in Szymanowski's Krol Roger and enjoyed hearing him develop over the years. Romantic Heroes are now his forte, but he has the depth, I think, to tackle Heldentenor territory.

Machaidze's delightful. She looks like Olivia Hussey in Franco Zeffirelli's 1968 film of Romeo and Juliet, which also adds extra piquancy to her portrayal.  Machaidze's voice is light and agile, the brightness of her timbre expressing Juliette's youthful innocence, her firm lower register expressing the depths of Juliette's character. Like many 14 year olds, Juliette does extremes, as Shakespeare observed well. Machaidze may not have the polish of many much more famous and experienced singers, but she has character. When Machaidze sings of waking too soon, holding Tybalt's blood stained hand, she sings with such fervour that you realize that this Juliette knows what risks she's taking. Sweet as she is, Machaidze's Juliette has a brain.

Performance standards all round the most enthusiastic of the season so far, barring Niobe which is specialist. Darren Jeffrey towers over everyone as Capulet, the role almost as strongly written as Roméo. Alfie Boe received a huge ovation, which he milked as if Tybalt was a principal. He's a good singer, but his fanbase will be his doom unless they take opera seriously, rather than chasing celebrity.

Ketevan Kemoklidze's Stéphano the Page was delightful. Pity the vignette about doves and vultures isn't specially relevant to the drama. Similarly, the crowd scenes, though well executed, are somewhat over-written, though here the crowds were choreographed well, fulfilling their aural purpose without distracting visually. The ROH Chorus is always good and reliable.

Full review HERE  in Opera Today, with production photos. In the meantime, there's a full downlaod of Charles Gounod Roméo et Juliette here on Opera Today. A great resource! The performance is live 1964, Franco Corelli.