Lakmé, Opera Holland Park, review: About as authentically Indian as a tikka masala but perfectly cooked nevertheless
The costume and designs gesture toward the Orient but never travel further than Surrey
Your support helps us to tell the story
From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.
At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.
The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.
Your support makes all the difference.Billy Connolly famously defined an intellectual as “someone who can listen to the William Tell Overture without thinking of the Lone Ranger”. It’s a joke reincarnated for a new generation with the Flower Duet from Delibes’s Lakmé, now so insistently and indelibly associated with British Airways.
But it’s only rarely that we get to hear the rest of the opera. This Merchant Ivory distillation of Orientalism – Hindu girl meets British boy during the Raj, tragedy ensues – is as heavy with melody and orchestral colour as it is light on psychological development. Wisely, then, Aylin Bozok’s new production for Opera Holland Park is largely content to provide pretty, period stage-pictures to accompany the superb playing of the City of London Sinfonia under conductor Matthew Waldren.
Just as Delibes’s score is East through Western eyes, all romance and rounded corners, so designer Morgan Large’s set and costumes gesture towards India without ever travelling much beyond Surrey. It’s a wise choice, in tune with vocal performances that retain a certain English charm even at their most Gallic. Fflur Wyn’s Lakmé is small but perfectly formed, her Bell Song a glittering highlight, while Robert Murray draws muscular passion from the feckless Gérald.
This pastel-coloured Lakmé is about as authentically Indian as a tikka masala – a natural and attractive fit for Delibes’s soft-focus fantasy of a score.
Join our commenting forum
Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies
Comments