Twice as good
Cavalleria rusticana & I Pagliacci
English National Opera
Don Giovanni
Royal Opera
Pag. could have seemed tame, partly because of its greater musical sophistication, after this. It didn’t, because Jones located it in 1970s northern England, creating an atmosphere both ghastly and, in its comparative lack of the tacky chic of the last few decades, nostalgic. A clapped-out team of comics does a bedroom farce, with a hunk taking refuge in the wardrobe, Mary Plazas wiggling her bottom like mad; depressing, unadorned, brick dressing rooms; and, what can never fail to upset, the need to laugh and create laughter while your heart is breaking, here brought home with stunning immediacy by Geraint Dodd. With Gardner’s pacing the piece has never seemed so short or to encompass so much. And Jones has never been more ingenious: Act I taking place outside the depressing theatre, with a big queue, backchat, almost like an English movie of the time; the last scene with the prim audience sitting facing us, and beside them the play going sour, so that our anxieties alternate, just as Leoncavallo wanted. The aesthetic of the Prologue is vindicated.
I went to see how the second cast of this season’s Don Giovanni coped with the dreadful set and production, and found that they did it far better than the first. I was impressed by Antonio Pappano’s conducting, too, though I could have done without some of his fond lingerings. The more prominent, warm string tone and less rasping brass were welcome. The casting of the Don and Leporello is easily the most brilliant yet: Mariusz Kwiecien an irresistibly sexy thug, and Alex Esposito, who was to have sung Masetto, virtually stealing the show with a Catalogue Aria which rightly brought the house down. He took it to the edge of vulgarity, but knew when to stop, and his mixture of pride in his master’s accomplishment and salaciousness fitted into the intense relationship between the two rogues, whose arguments were the biggest lovers’ tiffs in the opera. Donna Anna was undercast; Emma Bell acted Elvira while someone sang it from the pit. This production will never allow the work to flourish, but in the prolonged absence of a worthy Don Giovanni, this is the best we’ve been offered for a decade.
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Clive Davis
GazaTwo items which capture some of the complexities. First, Philip Stephens in the FT:
For all the provocations, the Israeli leadership’s willingness to see so many Palestinians killed speaks to fearfulness above strength. To assert the right to retaliate against Hamas is not to say that it is just, or wise, to shell large swathes of Gaza. Mr Olmert might have recalled his own words: “A prime minister must ask himself where best to direct his own efforts. Are [they] directed toward making peace or are they directed constantly towards making the country stronger and stronger in order to win a war?”
Second, a vignette from Jeffrey Goldberg's post, "The Moral Responsibilities of Israeli Soldiers":
I once asked Abdel-Aziz Rantisi, the late, unlamented Hamas leader, if he would help an injured Jewish child if he came across one lying on the street. He said no. And he was a pediatrician by training.
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Moira Hemson
October 23rd, 2008 1:21pmI have just caught Michael Tanner's review of Don Giovanni (8th Oct) and wonder from where he gets the idea that a decent Don notwithstanding, this was the best we'ed been offered at Covent garden for a decade. I think it's outrageous to have to pay slightly shy of £200 for a ticket and then be obliged to endure the truly risible situation of one singer miming onstage and someone else singing in the pit. Don't they have covers any more? And no mention of the truly sublime Don Ottavio of Ian Bostridge who manged to almost rescue this disaster. The whole performace was great, as long as you closed your eyes.