Published: July 21, 2010
And there was some especially beguiling singing from Mary Plazas as Marzelline – for me, the vocal star of the evening.So what about the two principals? Anthony Rolfe Johnson was, on the whole, firm enough as Florestan, but it was not a particularly stirring performance; as acting, it verged on the mininal. The choral singing was excellent: solid and impassioned throughout.There were fine performances among the cast too. Philip Sheffield was a vocally and dramatically likeable Jaquino – though you could see why Marzelline was in no hurry to accept his pestering proposals. When Peter Sidhom’s Don Pizarro stands defiantly at its front, he looks like a captain at the prow of a ship.
But the real coup comes at the start of the Prisoners’ Chorus. The cross rises slowly, to reveal the chorus huddled beneath, still effectively pinned by its huge shadow.
Richard Hickox’s view of the score met Vick’s idea of the drama more than half-way. It was expressively dark, and always forward-moving – not inclined to wallow in the big moments, but very compelling, as if Hickox had an ear to the symphonic argument behind the relatively conventional number-structure. It looked impressive enough, but it made so much noise that the prisoners had to be brought on before the beginning of their big chorus, otherwise the rattling would have completely drowned Beethoven’s quiet, awe-struck introduction. It was a good example of a production (by Joachim Herz) that was not simply un-musical, but actually anti-musical.
ENO has atoned for that crime handsomely with Graham Vick’s new staging. Paul Brown’s set is dominated by an enormous wooden cross that for most of Act 1 sits flat on the stage. It looks more than faintly coffin-like, but there’s a hint of hope in the form of a small tree, planted on the right arm towards the end of the overture. Ten years ago, English National Opera staged a Fidelio with a modern, metallic, prison-like set. With the same music, Radio 3 would be more distanced and analytical about humour, and Radio 2 would have more fun among the cocktails. If the music has been let out of its compartments, the listeners are left in theirs.
The mysteries of English life that stopped Tom Burke in his prime are still with us.. Music is far too compartmentalised as it is, and the BBC always used to be a prime offender What stays different is the tone. It didn’t swing, but it certainly sparkled.Some listeners deplore the blurring of the boundaries between networks These ears welcome it. Other bands were more American in style but staid in beat – one achieved that contradiction in terms, a sexless tango – with plain London accents from the vocalists. This was all delivered with enthusiasm and confidence.As for Cocktails, that’s simple to place.
These odd half-hours on Radio 3 may have a slightly camp air, but this Wednesday’s delivered its music from the clubs and restaurants straight, the recordings beautifully cleaned up (they are destined for CD). Some swoopingly harmonised violins in one piece of 20th-century Tafelmusik must have been early Mantovani, before the echo effects got in. Forgie’s band played Moonlight Serenade as a samba, without a trace of the Glenn Miller Sound. Hoffnung’s musical puns and Dudley Moore’s German song “Die Flabbergast” neared the top of the chuckle charts. But this week’s strongest survivor was Michael Flanders’ quick-fire text to the finale of Mozart’s Fourth Horn Concerto.