Anyone tempted to think that opera might be a dying art only had to be at the Grand Theatre in Leeds on Tuesday night or the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden last night to discover that it is triumphantly and thrillingly alive.
On Tuesday, for a performance of Madam Butterfly, I sat surrounded by a group of fabulously dressed-up 16-year olds, mostly female and every one of them chattering or texting busily until the moment the lights dimmed and the music started. From that moment they were all on the edge of their seats and silent except for the occasional sharp intake of breath or sigh of pleasure. And at the end they cheered Butterfly (a gloriously erotic and tender Anne Sophie Duprels) to the rafters and clapped and booed simultaneously for the caddish Pinkerton (a clearly delighted Rafael Rojas).
And last night’s Die Walküre in the Royal Opera’s Ring cycle was one of those rare and special occasions that only comes along once in a while. A performance that soared, and could easily have done entirely the opposite, as a crucial singer – Lisa Gasteen in the role of Brünnhilde was not well enough to sing. Thankfully, and wondrously, Susan Bullock was not just well enough but courageous and talented enough to take over by flying in from France earlier in the day and stepping into a production that she had neither seen nor rehearsed. Everyone else, from John Tomlinson and Plácido Domingo to Eva-Maria Westbroek and Rosalind Plowright, was absolutely at the top of their game but it was Sue Bullock’s night and she brought the entire audience to its feet.
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