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A wild bird gloriously captured
Carmen
Nevill Holt Opera
**** ENGLISH Country House Opera has burgeoned
since the late Leonard Ingrams opened his hillside manor at Garsington
in 1989. Nevill Holt Opera, charming and distinctive, is
one of the outstanding new companies to hit the summer opera scene of
late. It is riddled with young talent, beautifully run, relaxed and
delightful in every respect. The exquisite hilltop South Leicestershire manor’s recent revival owes itself wholly to the good taste and loving care of Carphone Warehouse’s co-founder David Ross, who has renewed its interior décor while not losing the original atmosphere (baronial hall, etc.), adorning house and grounds with works of modern art, sculptures (the bronze horse’s head poised above the valley is one of numerous inspirations), and planting out the mouthwatering walled gardens. Fired by Grange Park
and elsewhere, Ross has used his talents to build up a
While opting for a straightforward, honest interpretation of Bizet’s best known hit, faithful to the original and shrewdly avoiding undue diversions or fancy invention, Ashley Page’s intelligent production flair brought elegance, some wonderful costuming, versatile sets, and much more. In short, Nevill Holt’s Carmen hit the jackpot. The music was
constantly engaging, with an orchestra that sounded youthful, alert and,
wherever required, vital, punchy and energetic. Much of the instrumental
solo work, woodwind above all, was magic and memorable. It fielded a
team of principals who personified
Carmen’s vexed characters capably, with
lesser roles making a specially pleasing impact. The sextet of upper
voices (factory girls, bandits), nicely directed, was always a vocal and
visual treat; that of lower voices (the soldiery) was as brisk and
polished as I can remember seeing. What was obvious was
that, thanks to Page’s direction and instilled discipline, the group
scenes – the soldiery (or Guardia Civil)
at the start, the cigarette workers, some vivid children’s scenes, the
shifting human blocks in the Act 3 smugglers’ scene – were splendidly
marshalled from first to last. Page’s skill in the direction of moves and
especially those blockings – the chorus girls, the excited gatherings
round bullfighter superstar Escamillo, the very focused, keyed-up and
well-drilled youngsters from the David Ross Education Trust - made all
the difference to the impact of the whole opera. Page was ably abetted by his Designer, Simon Lima Holdsworth, who conjured four engaging sets, reusing shapes (packing cases) from the first to create a mirror impression in the fourth, and creating a thriving bar for Act 2 which reversed to provide the bullring exterior in the las Act. These trompes d’oeil are vital: they establish subliminally a consistency and continuity that welds the opera together. An unnerving image that dominated Act 3 – the
whitened, bare-boned carcase of a dead ox or steer (a preecho of the
bull fight that will bring disaster later) – showed just what can be
achieved with one haunting, economical idea: it was an unforgiving
landscape. The vocal hit, as was obvious from the audience’s
curtain call reactions, was Nadine Livingston’s gloriously sung,
Katie Grosset’s Mercédès proved a treat paired
with, not Daisy Brown (who acted out her role on stage), but Elizabeth
Ryder, who stood in for Frasquita owing to Brown’s vocal indisposition.
Ryder sang from the pit, and what an admirable sound she made, not least
as a vocal twosome with Grosset. The card-playing patter lost none of
its edgy impact. WNO’s Paul Carey Jones
produced an effective Escamillo, mixing pleasing upper and lower
register in Acts 3 and 4, and arriving on a motorcycle in black
leathers, singing the Toreador song appealingly, without excessive show.
Near the end his ‘Si tu m’aimes, Carmen’
was profoundly moving. Martin Lamb’s Zuniga was especially pleasing.
Often a lean and hungry figure, keen to indulge his own lusts and
passions, the Captain was here an affable, avuncular figure, enjoying a
good meal, a coffee or a pint but keeping an eye on his enthusiastic
young team; comic when bundled out. Toby Girling added a neat cameo
early on in the smaller part of Corporal Moralès. Clare Presland, Nevill
Holt’s able, feisty, pretty nasty Carmen, has a marked presence:
producing a fairly merciless Carmen of suitable bitterness and
bitchiness (‘If I love you, take care!’ she warns). No tolerance, no
noblesse oblige
from this child of the peasantry. ‘Près
des remparts de Séville’ and her
subsequent castanet-accompanied seduction of Don José were high points,
and she positively beamed in both the Act 2 quintet (as did all four others) and the famous trio with her two
girls in Act 3. Presland took a little time to win one wholly
round, and David Butt Philip’s Don José needed fractionally more so.
Butt Philip scored more as the story unfolded. His enunciation was
splendid. Taunted by ‘Soldier boy, go back to the barracks’, he grew in
stature late in Act 2 and never really looked back. His delivery was
forceful and accurate, commanding rather than plaintive, insistent,
domineering; so by the last Act, emerging from behind sultry pillars, he
had established a real aggression. Nevill Holt’s handpicked orchestra shone
throughout in the pit. One had only to hear the intensely felt prelude
to Act 1, or the relative enchantment of the interlude before Act 2 to
sense here was an ensemble which had been well nursed and shrew
The cigarette girls’ emergence yielded a
memorable sequence of clarinet, strings and then flute. There was a fine
flurry of panicky brass, and then band-like sounds in the orchestra, as
the girls set about a fight; and a terrific patch of pizzicato flute
shortly before Carmen escapes. Bassoon (Alex Davidson) then clarinet
opened Act 2 beguilingly, followed by paired flutes (Alice Eddie, Helen
James); and a striking equivalent evolution from the brass
(trumpet-trombone-horn) as Escamillo is hailed. When Dancairo and Remendado generate a cheerful
scherzo, Chalmers elicited a recapitulation from his galvanised ensemble
even better than the first hearing; even the clarinet arpeggios to back
up Jose’s anguished bleats were strikingly effective. Whispers of the Fate
tune as the girls bickered were eerie and troubling; and the cavorting
flutes over the cards (‘La mort!’)
were as sensational as Micaëla’s lulling clarinet. Bizet always has some
subcurrent running: Chalmers’ success consisted in finding it, and
bringing it out. This fine
Carmen, like
their earlier Magic Flute,
showed just what Nevill Holt can do. It is already one of the most
enjoyable venues in the UK. Now we know it has its own brand of
excellence. Roderic Dunnett
02-07-15
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