In Paris’s Palais Garnier – always en fête, opera is not just for Noël – a teapot dancing the foxtrot with a Chinese cup, an armchair courting a Louis XV wing chair, objects of all sorts and sparky animals joining forces against an unruly child.
Such is the winter wunder-world brought to life by Maurice Ravel in his lyric fantasy, L’Enfant et les Sortilèges, libretto by author Colette, staged with seasonal gusto by Richard Jones.
In London’s Dorland House – never en fête, inquiries are not just for Christmas – a dishevelled Dominic Cummings dancing a verbal Pasodoble with Hugo Keith KC, a bumbling Boris sporting a WhatsApp free iPhone, accusations of all kinds, and unhelpful cross examiners joining forces against an unruly former Health Secretary, fresh from bushtuckering a barbecued camel’s penis courtesy of I Still Insist I’m a Celebrity, Get Me Into Here. ‘Can I have my £1m fee for making a twat of myself now, please?’
Such is the never ending wunder-world brought to life by Baroness Hallett in her inquest-fantasy, Le Boris et les Débacles Covides, libretto by Rasputin puppeteer, Cummings, supported by a seemingly endless chorus of ‘it wisn’ae me’, Captain Hindsights.
Why Dorland House and not The London Coliseum for this season’s English language opera? Because this year English National Opera (ENO) is dark. In 2022 ENO staged a terrific production of American composer Jake Heggie’s heartwarmer, It’s a Wonderful Life, in the expectation that it would become a Christmas staple at the Colly. This year ENO has no Christmas show, thanks to Arts Council cuts.
Instead, The Coliseum – not ENO – is staging Nutcracker. Fair enough, but do sufficient Tchaikovsky nuts exist for forty-two performances over four weeks? True, there are, also a couple of shows by something called The Van Morrison Tribute Band, presumably to vary the pace. Could be mistaken for The Joe Biden Tribute Band, though. They look as if the oldies will have trouble finding their way around the stage without tripping over the props.
However, some Christmas cheer for cheery Cockney opera fans! London is not bereft. For The Royal Opera House, Covent Garden is showing Engelbert Humperdinck’s Hansel and Gretel from 16th December to 7th January. It is truly scrumptious, a huge cake-cutting-knifed, iced gingerbread blow out, candy strewn production by Antony McDonald.
It seems McDonald is climbing down every opera house chimney this Yuletide, directing not only ROH’s Hansel And Gretel, but the Garnier Ravel double bill, Ma Mère l’Oye / L’enfant at les Sortilèges. The English director specialises in magical settings. Gerald Barry’s Alice’s Adventures Underground for Irish National Opera in 2021 was a showcase for his fantasy spinning skills.
Down the boulevard from Palais Garnier, the forbidding bah-humbug Opera Bastille is showing Les Contes d’Hoffman by Jacques Offenbach, which premiered in Paris in 1881.
In a tavern, the poet Hoffmann, who has just heard the diva Stella sing, tells the story of the three women he has loved: Olympia, Antonia and Giulietta, three loves thwarted by an evil spirit, Lindorf. Will his passion for the newly discovered Stella suffer the same fate? Hoffman does have a penchant for falling in love with the diva he has heard last!
With this fantastic opera, drawing on the imagination of the writer E.T.A. Hoffmann and a libretto by Jules Barbier who was the go-to guy for Messiaen, Meyerbeer, Gounod and Amboise, Offenbach was a man on a mission. To prove that he was more than a composer of pleasant, lightweight works.
Too late! The score remained unfinished after he had headed to the underworld in 1880. This opera is a magnificent Offenbach swan song. It abounds with famous passages such as Barcarolle and Doll Song.
Canadian director, Robert Carsen, always fond of portraying theater within theatre, plunges the audience into the world of an opera house, from the stage to the wings, as his dizzying mise en abyme questions the notions of the anti-hero and the female ideal.
He has form with anti-heroes. Carsen’s Met production of Verdi’s Falstaff earlier this year portrayed Sir John as a triumphant blend of absurd bullshitter and vulnerable loser.
In Madrid, Teatro Royal is staging Verdi’s Rigoletto, just in case everyone is getting too cheery for their own good. Dutch National opera, alongside Die Zauberflote, is dragging in families with The Theory of Everything, by Carlijn Metselaar and Roziena Salihu. No, not Holland’s version of the covid inquiry,
“Different worlds meet in The Theory of Everything. Not only opera and ballet, but also art and science. By considering the concept of time from new perspectives, this production makes the case, in a light-hearted way, for changing how we look at the world and our lives.” Sounds dire.
I think I would be inclined to head to a Watching Paint Dry demonstration at the Rijksmuseum instead.
Brussel’s La Monnaie de Munt offers Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov’s The Tale of Tsar Saltan, which I last saw in Kyiv, not centuries ago, but in January 2020, in a different world.
This December in Kyiv National Opera of Ukraine is showing Yuri Shevchenko’s Puss in Boots, Puccini’s Tosca, Mykola Lysenko’s traditional folk opera, Natala Poltavka, Verdi’s La Traviata and Rossini’s Barber of Seville. So, there, Putin.
Meanwhile, Lviv National Opera offers Puccini’s La Bohème, Strauss’ Die Fledermaus and – to reflect the seriousness of war – go-to nationalist composer Yevhen Stankovich’s The Terrible Revenge, based on a story by Gogol.
This is a world premiere. A mystical story about “severe punishment for terrible crimes” has been crafted in the context of a nation baying for collective revenge for crimes of racism. Guess who?
It is remarkable that not only is live opera being performed in war-torn Ukraine, but that audiences are able to draw strength from new and innovative works. Supported by the likes of Canadian conductor, Keri-Lynn Wilson, founder of the Ukrainian Freedom Orchestra, who I see is conducting a gala concert in Lviv before Christmas.
Across the pond, the Met’s family-friendly production of Mozart’s dazzling fairy tale, The Magic Flute, returns to the Lincoln Center, sung in English and running under two hours.
Family friendly? Everyone friendly, actually. Flute was Mozart’s final opera – 1791 – written in singspiel style, featuring interminable episodes of unaccompanied dialogue. It’s always a relief when a director indulges in some libretto trimming.
Julie Taymor wields the shears capably, losing nothing of the plot. Last season I found I didn’t miss the otiose explanations from Papageno about why he was going to hang himself. Usually, I just wish he would get on with it. But I do hope this year we will avoid the moment when he pees into a wine bottle. Too many gurgling effects, Julie.
Patrick Furrer and Gareth Morrell share conducting duties this season, leading a standout cast. Tenors Piotr Buszewski and Joshua Blue alternate in the role of Tamino, the brave prince on a quest to liberate the clever princess Pamina, sung by sopranos Janai Brugger or Liv Redpath.
The cast also features famed tenor Rolando Villazón reprising his uproarious portrayal as the luckless bird catcher Papageno, alternating with baritone Alexander Birch Elliott, and soprano Kathryn Lewek as the Queen of the Night, alongside basses Brindley Sherratt and James Creswell as Sarastro.
The performance features fantastic puppetry, conjuring up tottering pink flamingo-like birds for Papageno to trap and monsters to scare the bejeesus out of Tamino. Those unable to make it to Manhattan can watch an HD version here. The subscription costs less than a seat in the stalls.
And, for perma couch pommes de terres, there is always Operavision – the EU opera funded freebie.
In a bout of unprecedented post-Brexit magnanimity they present, Masque of Might, the world premiere of a witty and satirical new opera. Sir David Pountney, legendary director, skilfully assembles Henry Purcell’s music ‘to create a fantastical and thoroughly modern tale of power, corruption and the gathering climate crisis’. Better than a Covid inquiry.
Purcell, arguably England’s finest composer of music for the stage before Benjamin Britten, wrote only one opera, Dido and Aeneas. Masterpiece though that undoubtedly is, much of Purcell’s greatest dramatic music is to be found in the “semi-operas”, masques and other entertainments that were popular in his time, such as The Fairy Queen.
Masque of Might showcases Purcell’s most beautiful, as well as rarely heard, music – including the spellbinding O let me weep from The Fairy Queen, the virtuosic Arise ye subterranean winds from The Tempest and the epic chorus Soul of the world from Ode for St Cecilia’s Day. Harry Bicket conducts the chorus and orchestra of Opera North. Well worth a couple of hours. Click here.
And Bickett, with his fabulous English Concert band is appearing at New York’s Carnegie Hall on Sunday 10th December for a concert performance of Handel’s Rodelinda starring English soprano Lucy Crowe.
I last encountered Crowe when she was singing Susanna – Mozart’s Le Nozze de Figaro – at the Met in January 2022, and in a Times Square hotel elevator with her husband and kids. Can’t wait to hear her sing the title role in Rodelinda. What a start to my Christmas season!!! Opera has some goodie or other to stuff in everyone’s stocking!
