Garsington Opera on a warm, damp Thursday evening. I’ve been chairing a pre-performance talk on La donna del lago between the conductor David Parry and Rossini scholar Philip Gossett, and now I’ve been given a seat in the orchestra pit to watch the show, as the auditorium is completely sold out. Somewhere behind me, out of view, David Mellor is having a good time – we know this as he says so, boomingly and often, during the interval. Jack Straw is less forthcoming. Down in the engine room you get a thrilling, if very skewed view of what’s going on. The stage is above you and extremely close, the singers looming overhead. I’ve moved from the brass section, fearing for my ears, and am now in with the string players. Two violinists are sharing a music stand and have just turned a page to find a squashed beetle in the middle of the next bar. They are reduced to paroxysms of giggles. Above their heads the rival tenors are fighting over the girl they both love and are hurling high Cs at each other as if they were razor-edged frisbees. The soprano looks anguished, as well she might. To my left the surtitles operator is furiously chewing gum as she flips through her score, keeping up with the streams of Italian pouring out into the night air. David Parry is dancing as he conducts, holding it all together, teasing out detail and urging the trombones on to more furious attack. It’s a wild and wonderful sonic helter-skelter ride.
The Spectator
The delights of summer opera

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