(This is my review for The Independent, now online here.)
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| Adrianne Pieczonka as Senta, with the chorus of ghost sailors Photo: Clive Barda |
Before the opening night of Der fliegende
Holländer some of the Royal Opera House Orchestra had already taken a soaking; apparently
the patch of on-stage sea for act III found its way into the pit at the dress
rehearsal. But Tim Albery’s Olivier Award-nominated staging, first seen in
2009, is an immersive and immersing experience, pulling you into its depths
even if you don’t get splashed en route.
Like many of the most interesting Wagner
productions, it is not overloaded with activity, but homes in on human
interaction, within elemental shapes; the basic concave shell could be a sail,
a wave, a ship’s belly, or the slope of the shore’s hillside. Dark, stark and
strong, it is impressively lit by David Finn, with intriguing angles, sometimes
harsh, sometimes beautiful, usually symbolic. There seems no need to interpret
to excess. Senta’s obsession with the Dutchman comes across not as psychosis,
but a genuine love; at the end, instead of throwing herself into the sea, the
poor girl seems to die of grief. The mini model ship, though, sometimes feels
like a prop too far.
There are two ways, very broadly speaking,
to treat this opera. It can emphasise the influence of its musical roots,
including Italian bel canto, Weber and Marschner (his Der Vampyr); or it can
look forward to the composer’s mature masterpieces. It can be gothic horror
with high emotion and great tunes; or a dusky foreshadowing of the
philosophical drives that Wagner brought to bear on the Ring cycle and its
companions. This account is the latter in no uncertain terms: Albery’s atmospheric
staging and Andris Nelsons’s spacious conducting combine into a seriously grown-up
angle.
Bryn Terfel’s Dutchman is so strongly characterised
that the doomed seaman’s entire history seems visible at his first entrance,
weary and burdened, dragging the ship’s rope around his shoulders; vocally he
paces himself finely, saving the strongest for last as the dramatic tension
peaks. As Senta, Adrianne Pieczonka is simply magnificent, with a warm and
radiant voice that melts in its lower register and cuts higher up, and the
ability to inhabit the role to heartbreaking effect. The central pair are more
than superbly supported by Peter Rose as Senta’s father, Daland; tenor Michael
König is a lyrical Erik; and in smaller roles the contributions of Ed Lyon as
the Steersman and Catherine Wyn-Rogers as Mary were outstanding. One of the
night’s biggest plaudits, though, goes to the chorus: the terrifying clash of
the locals and the ghost ship’s crew in act III packs a massive punch.
Some elements perhaps still need to settle
a little; on this opening night it was hard not to wonder whether Nelsons’
drawn-out tempi challenged sustaining power too much. The overture dragged
surprisingly – not aided by the hypnotic waves of grey curtain rolling from
left to right – but Nelsons’ skill as an accompanist with forensic control of
line and texture allows the singers to shine without shouting, to be supported
without ever being drowned.
