HGO: Donizetti's Maria Stuarda (new) - first for company. Joyce di Donato. Katie Van Kooten. Patrick Summers. Kevin Newbury. 27.4.12.

Houston Grand Opera, in its fifty-seven year history has not until this time put on a production of the second opera in the Donizetti Tudor Queen trilogy, Maria Stuarda. Dame Joan Sutherland, during the sunset years of her career, had HGO provide her a staged revival of Anna Bolena. This event, HGO’s first Anna Bolena, automatically carried with it a sense of grandeur, just in anticipating Sutherland taking on this peak role for the first time, both in concert at Lincoln Center and on stage here. The Metropolitan Opera is amidst a Donizetti Tudor trilogy of its own that Peter Gelb had originally planned to have star Anna Netrebko throughout; Netrebko eventually reckoned it more prudent to commit only to Anna Bolena (seen on cinema screens last fall) thus far. Enduring operaphiles can still recall Beverly Sills taking on all three roles for major New York City Opera revival forty years ago.

Our new Maria Stuarda, originally to have been staged by Patrice Caurier and Moshe Leiser, proved only halfway convincing as new role for Houston favorite Joyce di Donato – anticipatory of her repeating the role for this opera’s first showing at the Met next season. Not terribly great theatrical excitement could necessarily have been expected from Caurier and Leiser, but at least probably a better sense of scale, and more elegant set design than we have had from who has come in instead.

Kevin Newbury’s production, with ponderous sets by Neil Patel, and mostly stylish costuming by Jessica Jahn, all making their HGO debuts, proved very ordinary.
While sticking to traditional blocking, and mostly reasonable interaction between cast members, Newbury remained on safe ground. His production also proved short on taking any risks. Statuesque childhood profiling of two queens involved at stage rear during Act One orchestral introduction proved inconclusive. Perhaps the audience needed visual stimulation until time for real action to begin. Such proved additionally insipid for pantomime of Elisabeth during an abridged and choppily performed Inno della morte – often instead haunting choral number three-fourths through Act Three.

Slow descending blocks of set design proved cumbersome - all eventually emulating some perverse obsessing over large objects. Regal emblem gift-wrapped looking block pillars took the cake. Both queens, while adopting a still posture on stage started to look statuesque themselves several times. Having the Elisabetta of Katie van Kooten perched, standing upon high pedestal for her first aria proved stilted, obnoxious. Joyce di Donato descending a plain metal rolled on staircase seemed hardly less clumsy.

Most routiniere however were the musical results for what some of us might have reckoned an important revival here. Maria Stuarda, from near the very beginning, has not had the happiest performance history on record, neither that nor quite a recorded legacy up to what this work deserves. For starters, the orchestral writing reveals Donizetti at his very best at it, composed for orchestra at Naples (though premiered at La Scala) that under Rossini’s eight years there had further established a fine reputation. Seeking out how to emulate the meditative tone of the Schiller tragedy, on which this opera is based, this is the most inward looking of actually Donizetti’s four Tudor queen operas (the other being Il castello di Kenilworth). What love interest gets explored in Maria Stuarda is of limited scope, and not very convincing.

The title role is written in a slightly but noticeably lower tessitura than other Donizetti heroines – as having been written for Giuseppina Ronzi de Begnis (though created by Maria Malibran), a famous Donna Anna, Norma and also Rosina (Barbiere) of her day. Imaginatively, the finale (Aria del Supplizio) for Maria, to the opera as well is comprised of two major slow sections, eschewing the brilliance of other aria finales of the era. It has only been fairly recently, outside Italy, that this work and its merits have become more deeply appreciated.

Most notably Janet Baker and now Joyce di Donato have further revealed how tempting the title role, with its slightly atypically low tessitura is for mezzos to sing. Interpolating high notes, even while transposing much material for Maria down alternatively a half and whole step, di Donato managed with ease. Di Donato indeed sounded compelling during her opening aria “O nube che lieve”, taken a half-step down, sung with a lightly inflected mezza voce, including good trills. Its melodic line anticipates “Des quells transports” from Don Carlos for Maria’s friend Elisabeth de Valois and Carlos; both are in D-Flat Major, each in context of prevailing C Major overall And this happens likely to similar psychological effect – of reliance upon some delusion to maintain good peace of mind.

Although similarly floated phrases occurred elsewhere, some awkwardness of approaching Maria as a mezzo became unavoidable – but hardly so for an aging Janet Baker thirty years ago – as emulated by di Donato early on and employing all the very same transpositions down Baker had. Affectation of humility at start of ‘Dialogue’ with Elisabetta Di Donato handled well, as also her rage spilling over during same developing confrontation. Di Donato’s agility for this music is mostly secure; her mastery of other facets of her vocalism though is subject to doubt.

One expects more suppleness for role of Maria Stuarda than for Elisabetta. Di Donato sang Elisabetta in Geneva five years ago - very successfully. Lately though, even with valiant effort to achieve a free and light soprano top, some tonal hardness, stiffness has developed around the break – evident here, plus curiously bland middle register. Pitch accuracy intermittently also became problematic. More audible from di Donato today too are shifts between registers, tendency almost to aspirate phrase openings. With partial attempt to rein in and relax the chest voice, legato also gets compromised.

Vulnerability of this beleaguered queen of did not fully register. Light red dress attire further underlined some lack of nobility during final scene(s). Such qualities seemed more run aground by leaving exposed technical hurdles, encompassing Maria’s florid lines, moreover by a generic countenance and approach to this character together with her music. Ultimately, pathos regarding Maria’s plight did not quite seize the day, perhaps for di Donato being of customary (post-)modern mindset of needing to fit in.

Matching cardboard quality of the sets was the unstable Elisabetta of Katie van Kooten, quite effective an Ellen Orford in recent Peter Grimes here. Van Kooten here however sounded out of her element. For starters, while being incisive with certainly well understood text, her vocal production seldom came across Italianate. Considerable push and strain at achieving spinto tone - agility only mildly compromised - damaged tone quality, from weak low notes, through vinegary tone in-between to shrill top - some squall right beneath. Van Kooten especially sounded heavily miked at the Wortham; the resulting harshly bright metallic effect downstairs verged on ear-splitting. Her highly questionable intonation then seemed irrelevant.

This Elisabetta, all very two-dimensional, came up then very short on noble bearing – hardly then seeming of any real power with which to reckon. Van Kooten managed to restore Elisabetta some composure, warmer legato for several lines starting Act Three – hardly sufficient to make up for much else.

Leicester, musically written well, seldom becomes dramatically effective. In Geneva, opposite a cold, but fully rounded Elisabetta of di Donato, Eric Cutler stood his ground as a musically even, gracious, deferential Leicester - of naturally drier resources than several other tenors. This go-around he opted to wear his heart on his sleeve. Like Stephen Costello (Dallas’s Leicester in 2007) as Percy in the Met’s Anna Bolena recently, Cutler made the very epitome, with much bleating, of a kicked puppy as Leicester. Pleading Third Act duet with Elisabetta became most embarrassing. There were still lines remindful of Geneva, his fine Tamino here four years ago too, but not supplying the prevailing impression this time.

Catherine Martin somewjhat too briefly supplied a warm, steadying presence as Anna. Oren Gradus contrasted well his dark-toned, slightly worn sounding Lord Cecil, while demonstrating fine bearing, with Talbot of Robert Gleadow. Gleadow appeared sympathetic, ingratiating, musically conscientious, with lower register dry, then reticent for filling out some of Talbot’s lines.

For his fourth Donizetti piece here, Patrick Summers conducted. From an authentic practice perspective, also of what bel canto conventions establish, Summers demonstrated some understanding here. However, sense of real aesthetic encompassing such a work, also of especially how Maria Stuarda breaks free of convention, came across only tepid, and therein exists the challenge. Inhibitions his singers encountered were likely partly due to a frequently stiff, unyielding beat. Places to make various forms of accelerando, piu mosso, frequently came across jerky, choppy - not inculcated well into overall flowing line. Fawning over particular lines from di Donato eventually sounded contrived. Grandeur, solemnity implicit to two important Third Act choruses (the Preghiera included) sounded short-changed

Extensive numerous cuts, many of them to repeats, became customary. Clipping of phrasing, rhythms undercut, in addition to extensive cut therein, dramatic stretta finale to Act Two to point of sounding frivolous. Clpping also occurring during highly theatrical dialogue between two queens central to three-part demarcated finale to Act Two made the dramatic apex of Maria Stuarda merely virtual diminution thereof. Similarity to Lucia arises in that similar sextets open both Act Two finales. What desperation and nastiness di Donato and Van Kooten could muster - also generating annoying audience laughter downstairs due to weak buildup to such a big moment – helped rescue this episode.

Much want of grandeur, of rich color and intricacy Donizetti made substantiate such remained to the end, seldom got satiated. Here we had Maria Stuarda made diminutive, auspiciously minimized – upon special occasion of its HGO debut.

HGO Peter Grimes - starkly retold tale of mad fisherman, starring Anthony D. Griffey 31.10.10

Fourth in a series of the operas of Benjamin Britten, conducted by Patrick Summers and produced thus far by Neil Armfield, this is also the first chance to have seen Peter Grimes at the Wortham Center - Grimes, Britten's second opera, first success at writing one - the earliest composed of collection presented here thus far. Armfield has enjoyed practically unqualified success with both Midsummer Night's Dream and Turn of the Screw and close to as much with Billy Budd, that opened the series in April of 2008.

Peter Grimes however posed a few problems, given concept with which Armfield and designer Ralph Myers commenced. Costuming and acting, updated to time of the work's composition, near end of World War Two, were as realistic and nearly fully believable as before in his work here. Acoustically, this production worked better than recent Grimes from the Met in which Anthony Dean Griffey also played the lead - for not going with wall to place all the way across, near very front of the stage, against which for orchestra and voices to project and ping too much. Where Armfield fell slightly short of the mark here was in treating Peter Grimes as near as much of an abstraction as characterizes Britten’s mid-to-late 1950's Turn of the Screw and Midsummer Night's Dream.

The idea here, though communicated vaguely, of playing Peter Grimes as play within a play - or of approximating such a concept - was not bad – but still one that has been tried before - to varying degrees of success and failure. One had subconsciously to react i to how the people appearing to be playing the real characters on stage were perhaps instead to an extent reacting to doing so as just real people. According to what Everett Evans cited from program notes, there was perhaps a little firsson in catching a group of such players assessing for 'final run-through' of sorts what is each of their best feet forward in getting the audience to react to story being presented as well as possible.

One spent the opening courtroom scene, trying to assess as best as possible, with most of the cast, including Grimes in the front row all arranged in straight rows for seating area, with nobody else so prominently seated as that. Hobson and Swallow, conducting proceedings, got stationed right at front, apart from the seating area. Most chairs during the first interlude were then moved off to have just a few positioned on bare wooden floor of town hall auditorium as one might position them out on a deck.

The set design only became oppressively monotonous for Act Two, Scene One, where perhaps at an angle, some perspective could be allowed to inculcate church facade - perhaps diagonally across one corner extra prop or two to indicate (plan for) town square. Conventionally set, the church facade, combined with voices emerging from behind it create a complete frisson between what is going on inside and then privately roadside. Once set design for the second scene of Act Two, with profile for Peter Grimes's drab hut pulled forward, Armfield's intent then became clear in remaining so abstract for scene previous; the idea still wearied the eye.

Together with Summers more concise and relaxed with this score's often elaborate demands, the opera’s last three scenes worked consistently better than, as all taken together the first four. Just one further allowance that could have been made was to open things up - toward sense of wider space to better indicate some sense of outdoors into which for boy to make his tragic exit - and through which for Grimes to make his final exit too. Long tables brought on and offstage, arranged in various ways, over which got laid out fishing gear, served as metaphorically abstract construct of sorts. Talk, as led by Anthony Freud and Patrick Summers after the show, discussed 'a breaking down of the fourth wall' a la Brecht, yet Armfield’s engagement with the audience seemed timid. Having mysterious silent figure, to represent the original author George Crabbe, eventually making it seem he was directing some of the action onstage, still left whatever concept being played out slightly vague. Not successful was having group of children run pell-mell back and forth across the stage for 'Sunday Morning' - evocative interlude starting Act Two and also to contrast with both the darkness of both preceding storm and dramatic situation to follow. Such gesture only communicated expectation that the audience will be bored, without something to constantly engage the eye.

Even with various problems pointed out here, the acting of both principals and supporting cast on stage, seldom held back, was both realistic and often lively - with costuming (Tess Schofield) very capably complementing expected action on stage. Lighting (Damien Cooper), if conventional, slightly gimmick laced, worked, except for having to cover excessive empty space for first scene of Act Two.

That this was Patrick Summers's first attempt at conducting Peter Grimes was certainly remarkable. And yet revealed again was his way of relying upon as a crutch certain affectation toward especially drumming up what will feed back contrived excitement instead of real. Good color from the brass enhanced atmosphere for 'Dawn.’

What might have made one’ look askance toward orchestra pit was mishandled rhythm at quartet started by Balstrode ('I'll give a hand’ - Act One, Scene One); Summers started clipping it. The lean quality of orchestral forces for this downtown is likely influence toward such perception here. Indication is here - fine here that rope merely got pulled manually across stage – of winding out of rope meeting resistance against a rotating capstan - with Britten marking strings and lower winds with slightly awkward accenting to depict the mechanical resistance.

What could have led Summers slightly astray here was Peter’s light calling out for helping hand right before. I sought out – suggesting Glyndebourne, thus perhaps idea close to mindset of Summers - the EMI Haitink recording. There is a subtle push forward toward end of this passage,, but Haitink slightly more gets marked indication there exactly right. Poise reinstated itself here well before Ellen's 'Let her among you without fault;’ - of which Katie van Kooten made firm entreaty; there are many others with similar bad habits on many prominent podiums today.

Jagged writing for’Storm’ i took on two-dimensional perspective – after exaggeratedly hectic ‘Look! The storm cone’ ensemble, with internal proportions to both passages tentatively profiled. ‘Old Joe has gone fishing’ got pushed excessively - as to apologize for its unbuttoned jauntiness. Most glaring however was hurried coasting through climactic moment right before Grimes enters Auntie’s pub from storm outside – that all got deflated here. Sustaining some integrity through everything was still some grasp of atmosphere and of dramatic situation at hand. All then comfortably fell into place for Summers for the final two acts of Peter Grimes; such issues almost never arose again.

The Passacaglia - opened nobly by viola solo (Eliseo Salazar) - had fine shape. Mystery, solemnity, of ‘Midnight’ to open Act Three was complete, as was the weirdness of the sixth interlude – excusing questionable intonation from violin first stands – and distraught, measured feeling for choral postlude for return to work immediately following the tragedy that has just transpired. Chorus, as prepared by Richard Bado, was consistently excellent, as was also the decision to place the pub band music in first scene of Act Three backstage. Movement about by the chorus for especially the gathering about for confrontations in Acts Two and Three proved the professionalism of also their stage direction evening long.

Anthony Dean Griffey began the role of Peter Grimes as practically just face from among the crowd, betraying on purpose slight nervous unease and struggle to maintain poise on the stand. His early unaccompanied duet with Ellen Orford had the requisite long-breathed legato - making fine shape of this haunting passage. There was here poignantly desire felt to retain some civility in interaction with community at large and good anxiety expressed with recall to Balstrode of the day one earlier tragedy struck.

The only thing that really misfired for Griffey here – moment as cited above prepared weakly by Summers – was ‘Now the Great Bear and the Pleiades’ (monologue), that for dressing it up a bit much with nuance, it then missed the focus, moreover eerie calm it must convey to make its impact. Exits off-stage with the boy - boy running off behind Grimes both into the storm and halfway through Act Two, rang somewhat false. Vocally most of all, the welling up of anger in this Grimes Griffey made something with which to contend during tense scene with Ellen in Act Two. Griffey was conscientious about humanizing Grimes, even while scolding, blaming the apprentice for his own woes; he then found his métier in freely expanding out vocally for berceuse to follow – intimate picture of Grimes from dreams he softly recalls, assessing what should lie ahead.

Groffey’s technique is quite individual –in his broad formation of vowels to help expand out sound below the break – a mild telltale hint of juddery vibrato only slightly intrusive thus far. Above the break, he lightens things just right, even often incisively, as proved very effectively, flexibly true for interpretively triumphant mad scene near the end. His long-breathed legato for both long melisma toward end and reprise of ‘What harbor shelters peace’ during moments of relative lucidity contrasted strongly with intimately detailed picture Griffey painted of imbalance and hysteria - the derangement that has usurped the mind of the lone and troubled fisherman by this point. Sense of helplessness was complete with Griffey’s dazed appearing, almost robotic final exit to sink his boat as ordered by Balstrode. Memories of seeing Jon Vickers in the part thirty-three years ago are not effaced or erased. Griffey however has nobly and very effectively found his own way for both acting and singing this most taxing part.

Katie Van Kooten, Hermia (Midsummer Night’s Dream) here before, portrayed a most sympathetic Ellen, making one feel this near as much Ellen’s tragedy as it is for Peter. She always made a beneficially striking lyrical vocal and stage presence. A little shrillness on top distracted only slightly from nuanced molding of the legato line – including for the ‘Embroidery’ aria. Her acting was most believable – attempt at firm resolve for Ellen to hold her ground mixed with vulnerability in Ellen’s inability to really comprehend what both Peter and she are up against, Among female leads, Meredith Arwady stood out as a blowsy, chesty toned Auntie, with direct, dour, all-knowing humor - at for instance ‘A joke’s a joke’, etc. Catherine Wyn-Rogers, good casting too, had the right look and menace as Mrs. Sedley, but while avoiding going over the top, vocally sounded reticent, held back, perhaps one cut too light for the part. The nieces, Kiri Deomarine, Brittany Wheeler (Houston Opera Studio artists) sang in tune with Ellen and Auntie for their very tricky quartet in Act Two, and made cheeky wit out of all the rest.

Christopher Purves, in his HGO debut, led supporting cast of men with a conventional Balstrode, with keenly observed sense of having been around – sufficient for ability to come up with clearly felt sympathy for Grimes and his plight – and with firm tone seasoned well with bluster or gruffness to entirely fill out the part. Liam Bonner looked dapper as Ned Keene, sang reasonably, physically acted the part well, without giving the apothecary as distinctive a vocal profile as have others. His droll alternating of interaction with Mrs. Sedley and scorn behind her back was spot-on.

Joseph Evans capably served as reticent and polite Rector. Beau Gibson refreshingly sang Bob Boles straight, giving the mugging and blithering that tends to follow Boles around the sick leave it deserves. Armfield and Gibson both found solutions as to how to depict the ridiculous hypocrisy of Boles without making it camp. Camp was a little unavoidable by halfway through Act Three for lawyer Swallow (Patrick Carfizzi), but with plummy tone and right lilt for dance step accompanying him, he effectively pulled off avoiding taking caricature to excess. He sounded stern, firm in interaction with Grimes, right past time the curtain opens. With sonorous tone laced with irony – alongside dependable Hobson (Robert Pomakov) – Carfizzi authoritatively pulled this off.

All in all, even if this drama having been prepared to surreptitiously creep up on one, then later to overwhelm us, this was an honest, forthright interpretation of Britten’s Peter Grimes from just abut all involved – several cut corners aside. Minor carping, criticism aside, Houston Grand Opera proved still quite worthy here of the challenge of having before hosted Jon Vickers, gracing the stage of neighboring Jones Hall for two runs both approximately thirty years ago.

HGO: Britten's Midsummer Night's Dream. A restoration of all innocence and mirth. 23.1.2009 (repost from listserv)

This was Houston Grand Opera's second go at Britten's Midsummer Night's Dream, one of only three full length Britten operas that I know the company to have produced thus far. It was last seen here sixteen years ago. A gently aqua tinted green color pervaded the entire set for very much of the entire evening. Rear and side drops with drawings in black etched on them gave the set design somewhat of a Japanese feel, as did also perhaps a wide swath of green vellum, crossing stage from left to right. Quite brilliant touch, just somewhat opaque trapping as this was, it got physically dragged down to cover Tytania and Bottom-as-ass in their slumber together in Act Two.

The first several characters to enter the stage were Puck (Jon M. Hill in an only speaking part), Oberon, king of the fairies and Tytania, his somewhat sparring wife. Houston favorite Laura Claycomb played Tytania, with close to ideally clear, agile line and vocalism, excusing just a little uncertainty around the break and several not quite fully supported high notes. The only thing that may have held up Claycomb from having more than mildly qualified success with Tytania was perhaps a mild or perceived lack of warmth. As more relevant further down, she was also working in atmosphere more cerebrally achieved than not or otherwise. She was costumed very attractively in luminous blue and white, embellished with much fluff and frills, with locks of her naturally red curly hair flowing down her back. Claycomb was ideally witty with again Bottom as ass, in their central absurd love scene together.

Welsh countertenor Iestyn Davies (HGO debut) vocally enjoyed one of just a short string of unqualified successes with casting here. Less ostentatiously costumed than is James Bowman on dvd of the Peter Hall production, he gave his part the air of mystery, contemplation, and aloofness in a way much of his part calls for. His vocal production was about the entirely most even of the entire cast and could have been identified by a few of us with that of Alfred Deller. I hope it not heresy to say either that I found his more subdued, thus more introspective, mysterious interpretation of Oberon, in acting also, to be mildly preferable to the blowsier James Bowman on the wonderful Haitink/Peter Hall dvd.. This was altogether a very fine piece of work from Davies.

The quartet then later sextet of lovers or couples was half successful. Best of all was the lyrical and ardent, always musical and most often in tune Lysander of Norman Reinhardt, heard earlier this season as Benedict in Berlioz. He also looked and sounded the most convincingly animated during the difficult quarrel scene of Act Two. This was overall a part that suited him a little better than did Benedict.

Least satisfactory was the blustery and pitch-insecure Demetrius of Liam Bonner, who sounded attractive enough when singing lyrically, but otherwise was really pushing it and for too much of his part. Ryan McKinny as the Duke of Athens Theseus, almost noble enough in appearance, was lacking in enough authority for the part, with insubstantial legato and weak low notes.

Among the women, I was probably happiest with the Hermia of Kate Van Kooten (HGO debut). Very charming in appearance and most convincingly in love of the two women among the first two couples, her voice and singing, perhaps just slightly rich for what expectations are for the part, had lovely color to it, with especially rich low notes and supple phrasing of her music. I just detected just a few pitch problems toward the end of her performance here last night. Marie Lenormand started off as Helena with less control of pitch, often below it somewhat more than fortunately how she ended; she was (in addition to Puck) also the least attractively costumed of everybody on stage. The two women looked indistinguishable in class from the rustics on stage, Bottom, Quince, Flute, etc. One easily gets the point. However, without further insight, contrast between the two classes of people falls almost immediately a little flat.

Leann Sandel-Pantaleo sounded somewhat more authentic contralto as Hippolyta here than for Ursule in the Berlioz last fall. It had me wondering if she might have been feeling indisposed somehow then. Phrasing her music sensitively, she looked and sounded trim, sufficiently aristocratic in this part.

As for the rustics, Matthew Rose (HGO debut), other than a bit uncertain in pitch at first then even later on for a few low notes, was the droll and wonderfully endearing Bottom. He enjoyed shilling to the hilt the death of Pyramus to the great enjoyment of everybody. Otherwise, he bantered about and sang animatedly enough among his team of six rustics without on purpose either in acting or vocally overshadowing anyone else - least of all the very lyrical Flute of veteran tenor Steven Cole, and the hilarious Snout and sprechstimme Wall (in Pyramus and Tisbe) of Jon Kolbet. Though with acting matching well enough with the rest, the practically also pitch-sprechstimme Quince of Robert Pomakov was a washout. There was so much rattle to his pitch that it was seldom easy to discern any.

The act of Pyramus and Thisbe in Act 3, to entertain the aristocrats, was a huge send-up for the entire hall, and for things that work this way downtown, was for the most part very convincingly funny, as opposed to the look-at-us, we're funny brand of humor in two recent runs of Mozart comedies here, Nozze di Figaro and Don Giovanni - very distracting in both. Since a wonderfully funny Barber of Seville here in 2004, fully appreciated by all, I do not recall an episode of such genuine and good laugh-out-loud humor as I found in Pyramus and Thisbe last night.

The skit animated Patrick Summers as well, though he tended to be quite good for all three scenes for the rustics - only on the dry or academic side for them during Act Two. At the beginning of Act One, the orchestra sounded insufficient in its lower reaches. This robbed the music of a necessary sense of its having overtones that even in notes not more than implied in the harmonic texture must somehow at least seem to land on the ear for Britten's music not to sound dry or academic. How would even orchestral forces as such, augmented a bit, be able to savor the Mahlerian (disclaimer::not led astray here by seeing the Visconti film) reaches of Death in Venice? Britten, by then, the end of his career, had very well cultivated an internationalized style and become the richer for it. Even in its chamber music sonorities, Midsummer Night's Dream helps pave the way to his underrated Owen Wingrave and Death in Venice.

Summers was at his best, accompanying Davies and Claycomb, Oberon’s noble aria in Act One, "I know a bank", after manner of Purcell, included. He gave good ear to the second episode for lovers in Act One (an act that is organized in rondo form), especially with the anxiety Hermia and Lysander express therein. This and episodes of writing for celesta and strings revealed an ear for color, though other passages through the evening sounded both tonally and rhythmically a little flabby. Undifferentiated as to the harmonic changes that occur in it, that is without sufficient nuance, the prelude to Act Three went sour in intonation from the strings of the HGO orchestra. Playing from the brass, which is to be often pungent in color sometimes came across as timid, though otherwise all well played, in terms of accuracy, pitch, etc.

How flat in perspective and lacking a bit in depth was a stiffly conducted final chorus right before the end of the opera, that should instead, marked 'slow and solemn', should be succulent in its tonal richness. Thanks in part to Summers, the best moment for childrens' chorus (otherwise lacking courage with accents) came at the end of Act One with a well animated, practically Stravinskian "You spotted snakes." Overall, I would gauge that Summers got the Britten about seventy percent right, but to avoid the hazard of this music coming across as two-dimensional, some further effort was needed. It was also considerably unwise, not to allow an interval between Acts One and Two. For, in fact, those who do not know the score at all, there was hardly at all any discernible break at all between Acts One and Two - indeed very unwise.

What went the extra step of the way in making Midsummer Night's Dream quite the scuess it was at its opening here was the mostly well gauged production of Nell Armfield. Mentioned already was the faux pas in costuming in particular one or two of the lovers, which for Helena, looked as though it could have come off a rack at Ross or Marshall's. Though including demonic looking Oberon and just a bit over-the-top for Puck that way, stage direction was naturalistically very effective. All moved in as natural and mostly unassuming manner as one would have desired on the minimalist set. Gratuitous underlining of material was gratefully close to nonexistent. Lighting for one scene, incisively conducted by Summers, with infusion of the green on stage by bright white light - the chastisement of Puck by Oberon in Act Two - was very effective. In the context of so much else, the lighting here was even startling as well.

For condition the economy it is in and Britten's writing in this case that shows significant departure from the more populist style of his Peter Grimes and Billy Budd, Midsummer Night's Dream gratefully received a quite full house. After the full shenanigans of Pyramus and Thisbe in Act Three, the audience vociferously showed their appreciation at curtain calls, including for seventh rustic, border collie Buddy, who during Pyramus and Thisbe indulged us with, ad lib, a moment or two of barking. If only singers ….