MUSIC; Irresistible in any language

Tamberlane Opera Theatre Company

Nick Kimberley
Sunday 14 May 1995 23:02 BST
Comments

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.

James Joyce might have imagined it: a touring company taking baroque opera to Ireland's remotest corners. Dublin's Opera Theatre Company (OTC) has something of an international reputation for its seria-on-a-shoestring productions. Last year's staging of Handel's Flavio was the hit of the BOC Covent Garden Festival. This year's visit to St Clement Danes Church with the same composer's Tamerlano (Tamberlane in director James Conway's translation) sold out in days.

The production was announced as "semi-staged." The singers emerged in sober black, processing through the church to a small platform, where seats awaited them. There were music stands but no music: the singers had no need, they knew their parts. They sang as if parodying a concert performance, staring stiffly ahead, refusing the tiniest interaction. Yet little by little the character of the opera invaded each singer in turn.

The first to yield was Tamberlane ( a castrato role sung by Alison Browner). As Tamberlane confesses his love to Louise Walsh's Asteria, Browner, as if buckling under the strain, turns to Walsh and caresses her face. Walsh's impassivity exaggerates the character's rejection, but the impact of Tamberlane's small movements amid such reticence is enormous. Like the singers, we are drawn irresistibly into the drama.

The turning point comes at the end of Act 1. Andronico ascends to the pulpit, where he finds... his costume. In a moment of rage during Act 2, Andronico casts aside the music stands and the transition to drama is complete. The roles inhabit the singers. A nice conceit, handled with subtlety. Conway's production allows no extravagant gesture but treats the rarefied Opera Seria idiom as conversational drama, the restraint emphasising the extremes to which Handel drives his characters. When Mark Padmore's Bajazet, humiliated by Tamberlane, finally kills himself, the emotional temperature is as high as in, say, Madama Butterfly. Perhaps performances like this, succinct, well-sung, expertly played, will one day make Handel as popular as Puccini.

Despite the title, the opera's centre is Andronico, another castrato role, here sung by a counter-tenor, Jonathan Peter Kenny, whose throat infection hardly interfered with his cleanly-projected falsetto. On stage, Kenny has the bearing of a man suffering mightily, but inwardly: perfect for Handel. Alison Browner's Tamberlane was a swaggering, pouty bully; and, after initial edginess, Louise Walsh's Asteria bloomed, bringing the house down with her long Act 2 aria. Lynda Lee's Irene was properly austere, her dignity shaming everyone into good behaviour; and Mark Padmore (a leading tenor, rare in baroque opera) stepped beyond period manners when Bajazet's predicament demanded it. Yet the show's star was the tiny orchestra, a dozen players directed with perfect flexibility by Samus Crimmins. An Italian opera, written by a German composer, for a London audience, performed in English by an Irish company, directed by a Canadian: Opera Seria becomes lingua franca.

Nick Kimberley

Join our commenting forum

Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies

Comments

Thank you for registering

Please refresh the page or navigate to another page on the site to be automatically logged inPlease refresh your browser to be logged in