Rodula Gaitanou's setting of the relatively brief Prologue to Richard Strauss' multi-layered “opera within an opera” Ariadne auf Naxos is Federico Fellini’s film studio at Cinecittà in Rome in the 1950s. Strauss and his librettist, poet Hugo von Hofmannsthal, originally set the action in the house of a fictitious rich sponsor in 18th-century Vienna, a man who has commissioned an after-dinner entertainment for his guests in which an opera seria dealing with the myth of Ariadne’s encounter with the god Bacchus after her abandonment by her lover Theseus is followed by comedy from a troupe of commedia dell’arte performers, with a firework display to complete the evening. With little time for singers to prepare, he decrees that the two performances should be played simultaneously. High Art will be made to interact with Low Art. It’s a good recipe for comedy.
Inquisitive film cameras probe faces on the stage of the Leeds Grand Theatre, and the sponsor becomes, by implication, Fellini. It works well. Strauss’ music for the Prologue is light, a little Mozartian, and in places is reminiscent of the Hollywood film music produced by composers influenced by him. Fellini was known for themes which juxtaposed tragedy and comedy, fantasy and reality, and the references to his work prove to be fitting, as do George Souglides' costume designs: the commedia dell'arte characters are straight out of the film 8½, along with many of their movements. Sung in English (the Prologue) and German (the “opera”), this is a co-production with Gothenburg Opera which premiered there in 2018.
Versatile bass-baritone John Savournin (who has recently devised a ‘Mini-Vixen’ based on Janáček's opera as part of Opera North’s “Little Listeners” project) was the commanding figure of the Major-domo in the Prologue, his stentorian voice delivering the instructions sometimes as direct speech, sometimes as recitative. With other characters, he reappeared in the much lengthier second part, the mashed-up opera as a finished product, in his case as Truffaldino. The Composer, who is not scripted to reappear, does so in this production, to the end. Mezzo Hannah Hipp sang this trouser role with great energy and thought, her voice conveying her emotions superbly, from impetuous anger to growing love for the commedia leader Zerbinetta: her lofty assertions about music as a sacred art, beautifully rendered, were terminated by the commedia troupe armed with brass instruments and a harsh rasping sound. Soprano Jennifer France gave us a first taste of Zerbinetta, and a very lively portrayal of her character as a lot more than a mere coquette, with genuine feelings for the Composer.
In Part Two, soprano Elizabeth Llewellyn’s Ariadne was exhilarating. Slumped on a large rock, she put hot blood into the veins of a mythical character as she lamented her abandonment in impressive Wagnerian tones, using her full vocal range excellently, waiting for death to come in the form of Hermes, but instead Bacchus arrives, riding a cherry-picker. On opening night, no-one sitting near me even tittered, though some found the three nymphs Naiad, Dryad and Echo (Daisy Brown, Laura Kelly-McInroy and Amy Freston) amusing, as they fluttered and flapped around the rock like Rhinemaidens out of water. I found them irritating. The commedia troupe tried to cheer up Ariadne, and baritone Dominic Sedgwick’s Harlequin was vividly memorable as part of this, but the most memorable, almost inevitably, was Jennifer France.
Her famous coloratura “Großmächtige Prinzessin”, part of the opera’s central message that life must move on, with new lovers being allowed in, was packed with emotional and dynamic inflections, her trill just brilliant. It was the one single item receiving extended applause, with full justification. Tenor Ric Furman, drafted in as a replacement at short notice, was first seen in the Prologue insulting the Prima Donna in Italian, but as a new lover for Ariadne he was, of course, nobly attentive, his voice well-sustained in a demanding long stretch, as the sumptuous music gathered force. The onstage fireworks display (on a wire between two poles) at the end was watched by four lovers – Ariadne and Bacchus, Zerbinetta and the Composer. Love triumphs, with High Art not being taken too seriously.
Conductor Antony Hermus was always fully in control of the relatively small orchestra, evoking the quickly-passing beauty of Strauss' constantly shifting moods and atmospheres with great skill.
