Empty spectacle with no social context
Aida ENO, London Coliseum
ENO’S economic stability must be hanging on the success of this new production of Verdi’s Aida. Sixteen performances have been scheduled between now and December, which means that there are 37,000 tickets to be sold – a tall order for an opera no longer in everyone’s top 10. The intensive marketing campaign must have been costly. Something very special is required, and I am sorry to report that it has not been delivered.
Phelim Mcdermott, the director, and Tom Pye and Kevin Pollard, his designers, have signally failed to make the stiff classical drama come alive or even coherent. The sets are neutrally granitic, under-lit and unsuggestive, in contrast to the extravagant fancydress parade of costumes, more redolent of Elsa Maxwell’s Venetian carnivals than a fearsomely theocratic society at brutal war with its neighbour. We are left with an empty spectacle devoid of any social context – it could all be happening in La La Land.
Nor has Mcdermott made any visible attempt to animate the central love triangle of Aida, Amneris and Radames; it’s a long time since I’ve seen such utterly inert stand-anddeliver acting at this address, its feebleness compounded by the banality of Edmund Tracey’s excruciatingly genteel translation. If there is a case for abandoning ENO’S commitment to performing everything in English, here is solid evidence. That a show so devoid of energy or interest should reach the Coliseum stage does not inspire one with confidence in Daniel Kramer, the artistic director.
So much for the bad news. Fortunately, there are some solid musical consolations, starting with Keri-lynn Wilson’s elegantly incisive conducting and the vivacious playing it draws from the orchestra.
Latonia Moore sings the demanding title role with gleaming tone and unfailing security, making light work of both arias and riding the ensembles fearlessly. Almost equally comfortable vocally is the Radames of Gwyn Hughes Jones, even if he convinces as neither lover nor warrior. Michelle Deyoung’s Amneris is more problematic: her mezzo-soprano has warmth and grandeur, but she is too stately in manner for this Joan Crawford character, and her diction is marred by some odd vowel sounds (“I lorv him”, for example). Musa Ngqungwana lacks animal ferocity as Amonasro; Robert Winslade Anderson and Matthew Best are properly lugubrious as Ramfis and the King. But the highlight of my evening was the gorgeously sensual singing of fastupcoming Eleanor Dennis as the High Priestess – let’s hope ENO can nurture her potential wisely.