Scattered thoughts on Falstaff

• Five performances in seven days seems to me a particularly punishing run, especially for those with a great deal to sing. Dunedin singers rarely have as many full-scale public engagements as this in a month, let alone a week. So unsurprising, then, to hear a few tired voices on Thursday, which was number four. But then, I'm in the minority in that I had three other performances to compare; certainly the rough edges were not so rough as to interfere too much with anybody's enjoyment. Indeed, someone I knew in the audience said to me afterwards, "Very enjoyable, even for someone like me who doesn't like it." Not bad.


• My appreciation of Fiona Henry's very considerable talents grows ever more enthusiastic. Not only has she emerged as consummate leading lady; she also pulls off the "German maid" scene with aplomb. With her Pippi Longstocking plaits and absurd accent, she's screamingly funny and, even with the comic voice, keeps on singing beautifully throughout. Strangely enough, when, in "Die Männer kenn' ich schon" (here "Oh, die Männer know I vell") she takes to imitating big lecherous men like Sir John, there's a big dramatic sound which creeps incidentally into her singing; I'd be interested to know if she could achieve that same sound without doing the voice. Oh, and kudos to La Henry for her spot-on Wicked Witch of the West voice in the forest scene; I'm sure the cry "Poison!" actually appears in The Wizard of Oz, sounding identical.


• I have mixed feelings about director Jacqueline Coates' production, which moves the action into the 1930s. It's not, as the window display at the theatre inexplicably trumpets, an "Art Deco comic opera", just plenty of uncluttered creme and gold sets and some fabulous frocks (Ford in plus fours is a nice touch also.) The concept of Falstaff as seedy small-town swindler is excellent. Still, I wonder if updates like this don't work better when your audience has a reasonable degree of familiarity with the opera in its more traditional form. Here, the music is unfamiliar, the text an English translation and the theatre so tiny that those in the front row are just about onstage - and the effect at times is more of generic AmDram musical than eighteenth-century opera. I've heard a few people mention the initial difficulty of shaking off the "Gilbert and Sullivan" feeling; the truth is that here, where it's a rare treat in any form, eighteenth-century opera seems more like eighteenth-century opera when it looks like it. Were I Kapellmeister I'd have it performed in Italian too. But then, if I were Kapellmeister I'd have the actual Gilbert and Sullivan productions translated into Italian, which might make them marginally more bearable.


• Also on the direction, unrelated to the 30s setting: it's too busy for my tastes. I don't think the overture needed to be staged: the opening chorus makes it clear that there's a party in progress, and Falstaff's every sung word is enough to establish his character without all the mimed exposition. The mouthed conversations which take place between characters not currently singing work to a point, preventing them from turning into a second audience, but they can become distracting - and on occasion, actually audible. I also feel there's really no need for the handful of spoken interjections which have been added. This is a tight, taut, well-crafted comic opera with no need of assistance. (Naturally this is the cue of those who actually know things to let me know that those interjections exist in the original, in which case I solemnly swear to eat crow.)


• I wish there wasn't this determination to applaud the end of every scene regardless of its content. Applaud an aria, obviously, or an ensemble. But recitative? Come on.


• Turns out I am, after all, an incorrigible diva devotee. It was my intention from the very beginning to attend most or all of this season of Falstaff, pretty much regardless of the cast. However if that hadn't been my intention, I daresay I'd have ended up doing so anyway and the reason for this is one person: Alethea Chittenden. Singing which is all pearl-drops and dusky pinks, high notes to give me chills, poised, engaging stage presence and the most infectious laugh. The kind of soprano I'd follow about the country, except that she lives here in Dunedin: and the infrequence of her appearances is a heartbreak I'll have to learn to bear.  You know, it occurs to me that with that finespun voice and all those red Pre-Raphaelite curls, she's be a to-die-for Lizzie in the Goblin Market opera I posited in December's libretto meme. Sigh. If only I had a tame composer on hand: it really would make a fabulous show.


• Please ignore my rants and pay attention only to the positive stuff. This Falstaff is a jewel. After all, five performances of Il Signor Bruschino spaced over three weeks was more than enough for me; but on the nights this week when there's been no Falstaff, I've actually missed it. This has been an enchanting introduction and I'll be sad to say farewell tomorrow evening.

Comments

[stephenchambers]

Fiona Henry was, for me, the star of the show. I was so impressed with her work. I think it's much more entertaining when you know the people in real life!
Such a shame that there weren't more people there to enjoy it.

[Sarah]

Yes. Thankfully the audiences were a much healthier size for the last two performances.
We even managed a bit of a standing ovation tonight.