"Give up women! Are you mad?" A Restless Don Giovanni at the Royal Opera House

"But words are things, and a small drop of ink,
Falling like dew, upon a thought, produces
That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think ;
'Tis strange, the shortest letter which man uses
Instead of speech, may form a lasting ink
Of ages ; to what straits old Time reduces
Frail man, when paper - even a rag like this,
Survives himself, his tomb, and all that's his."

Byron, Don Juan, Canto III, Stanza 88

We are the stories we tell ourselves. At least Kasper Holten, director of the Royal Opera House's current production of Mozart's Don Giovanni, enjoying its fifth revival at Covent Garden since its premiere in 2014, thinks so. Front and centre in Holten's interpretation of this story is the act of the Don Juan story itself. Es Devlin's set designs support this effectively, with stairs and doors which lead nowhere trapping the characters into being mere facets of Don Giovanni's mind, a method by which our philandering villain (or hero?) also traps himself, in a kind of three-dimensional realisation of M. C. Escher's Relativity. Coupled with Anja Vang Kragh's gorgeous costumes, where the characters stained by Giovanni's exploits have their clothes literally stained by the same ink through which their names enter Giovanni's list of women, Holten presents a comprehensive and thoughtful approach to Mozart's masterpiece. 

After conducting this production in July 2021, Constantin Trinks was back in the pit for this short run of six planned performances, made even shorter by the cancellation of two, following the Queen's passing on the day Don Giovanni was meant to open, and the state funeral on 19 September. The quiet reflection which held the house during the minute's silence did not last, however, as Trinks launched into an explosive overture. Little Mozartian delicacy was on display throughout the musical performance, with even Trinks' pianoforte accompaniments to recitatives bearing the big-boned spirit of an overture that grabbed and plunged us into the devilish realm of Don Giovanni.

Covent Garden rarely fails to deliver excellent casting, even for long-serving revived productions, and by and large, this was no exception. Luca Micheletti, here making his Covent Garden debut, certainly had stage presence as the philandering nobleman, acting with comedy and wit, as well as being utterly convincing in his descent to the underworld. He was certainly persuasive in his boisterously macho acting, yet his voice was sadly often clouded by an overbearing orchestra in many of Mozart's most brilliant arias. 

Christopher Maltman as Leoprello balanced the wit and pathos of Giovanni's long-suffering servant, stealing each scene to much laughter. Christina Gansch was light and clear as a delightful Zerlina, though one perhaps a little underpowered, pushing some notes ahead at times, before allowing them to take their full tone. Her on-stage husband, the comically thick Masetto, sung by Thomas Faulkener, also enjoyed a good performance. However, the most memorable performances came from the two sublime countesses: Paula Murrihy shone as Donna Elvira, and Maria Bengtsson was commanding as Donna Anna, a performance matched by an impressively memorable, given his relatively small role, Charles Castronovo as Don Ottavio. 

Holten has Adam Palka's authoritative Commendatore stay on stage, becoming one of the 'ghosts of conquests past' that haunt Don Giovanni throughout with his stage presence, stained into the narrative, and trapped within Don Giovanni's own mind-palace with him. The master of his mind-palace, until all comes crashing down, Don Giovanni sneaks through back passages, secret entrances and exits until he finally is lost for space to run, as doors are slammed shut, and he descends into his own particular version of hell, where not a last 'rag of paper' survives to record his deeds. His 'achievements', the scrawled names of his 'conquests', are erased and disappear with him. 

Of course, the tale of Don Juan has been told by practically everyone, from Mozart to Byron, from Strauss to Molière, and even (brace yourself) an obnoxiously 90s Johnny Depp so one wonders how realistic Holten's interpretation of Giovanni's punishment is. Indeed, Holten cuts the final sextet; one wonders whether he could have had something interesting to say of Mozart's rather anticlimactic 'moral of the story, let's get on with our lives' finale. Indeed, how can they move on, forever stained by the Don Juan story? Has Giovanni's descent to hell really changed anything at all? It is perhaps small missed opportunities like this which lead to a sense of the incompleteness of the production. Holten appears to have arrived at these questions, but hesitates to ask them, leaving the audience to fill in the most interesting interpretative possibilities of this production.

Stormy Schnittke, Brilliant Brucker: Daniel Harding steps in at the Proms

Feisty: Harding and Zimmermann in Schnittke's Viola Concerto
Photo credit: BBC

For this year's last concert of the traditional bumper final weekend of the Proms season, the Berlin Philharmonic were due to give a concert of Schnittke's Viola Concerto and Shostakovich's 10th under  Kirill Petrenko. However the Berliners' chief, having given a spellbinding performance of Mahler's 7th the day before (see review here), was on doctors' orders to rest his injured foot, and so handed the baton to the world's only conductor/airline pilot, Daniel Harding.

The first half was unchanged: Alfred Schnittke's Viola Concerto with soloist Tabea Zimmermann. Schnittke's is a fascinating work, and at its first outing at the Proms under a soloist other than the work's dedicatee, Yuri Bashmet, it proved a piece rich in energy, yet darkly pensive; the composer completed it during failing health, perhaps reflected in the vicious repetetive rhythms of the last movement, before all falls away. 

Deafening Eternal Silence. Alfred Schnittke's Gravestone.
Credit: de:Benutzer:Wwwrathert - https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Datei:Schnittke-Grab_2.jpg, CC BY-SA 3.0

The viola may be an unlikely solo instrument, but Schnittke places it front and centre, even replacing orchestral violins with their alto clef cousins. In the extended solo passages, Zimmermann's tone was extraordinary, full of warmth and rich vibrato, yet possessing a depth and doubt that suited the work. The work suited the venue too: as the sound of Zimmermann's viola embraced the hall, it was difficult to believe with her double stopping it was just her playing, with an orchestra featuring a harpsichord and celeste, passages seemed to contain spellbinding otherworldly sounds, before anchoring us with earthly vigour and passion. In the dying final bars, a breathless and captivated Albert Hall was held in silence paused before the well-deserved cheering of the Prommers.

Harding replaced Shostakovich with Bruckner, a substitution which no-one after having heard the performance could have complained about. The famous opening horn solo, soaring above a shimmering bed of barely audible violin tremolos (and, in the Albert Hall, completely inaudible), was played with nigh-perfection by principal Stefan Dohr, promising a magical performance. 

By holding back the easily overblown brass chorales, Harding shone a light on Bruckner's intricate writing for the woodwind, making it easy to feel as if we were hearing chamber music in a mesmerising second movement. This was very much Bruckner with a light touch: the more delicate and precise Harding was, the greater and more compelling became the expertly crafted main brass themes, with the Berliner brass section, far from dragging the orchestra down, finding space to soar and lift.

For the Bruckner nerds, Harding opted for the second version of the symphony from 1881, conducting from the score recently edited by Benjamin Korstvedt in 2019. A 'controversial' edition, at least according to the programme notes, which refused to be drawn on a reason for this, but there could have been nothing controversial about this performance. Harding's conducting was marked by its restraint, handing freedom for the orchestra to express itself; the stops and starts of Bruckner's music became flowing, coherent ebbs and waves. Harding's approach was expertly judged; crescendos grew naturally, never forced or hurried, as Harding successfully shied away from the grand in favour of the sublime.

And now...the Day! Petrenko's mastery on display at the BBC Proms

The Master
Photo credit: BBC

Apparently, Kirill Petrenko had injured his foot, forcing him to pull out of the following day's performance of Schnittke and Shostakovich (Daniel Harding took over, replacing the symphony with Bruckner's Fourth, see review here). It seemed, however, that nobody had informed Petrenko of his own injury, and he conducted with his trademark precision and energy; to watch him at work with the Berlin Philharmonic was as electrifying as the music he crafted. 

Petrenko, now beginning his fourth season at the helm of the Philharmoniker, has already made this most difficult of symphonies a bit of a personal showpiece, after a memorable 2018 performance with his old band, the Bavarian State Orchestra, at the Barbican, and a much-praised record release of the Munich performance with the same orchestra. However, this Prom proved about as far removed from a routine performance as possible, as all were in for an exhilarating journey through Mahlerian fantasy-land. It was clear that Petrenko found a way through what many find to be Mahler's most problematic symphony. The Seventh appears to resist labels, floating between the sinister night and triumphant day, mixing between the two dichotomies. Petrenko was able to control this effortlessly, bringing coherence to Mahler's restless world, yet delighting in its unevenness. 

The first movement, with tense undercurrents of anxiety, almost consuming all before a determined brass march beats it away, set up the drama of the whole symphony. Petrenko emphasised every detail, drawing an incredible atmosphere from his players. It is completely true that the title of the finest orchestra in the world may be a reductive and oversimplified argument, but on nights like this, one couldn't help but be bowled over by the technical marvels and brilliance of the Berliners. Golden melodic lines in perfect unison at the very top register of the violins, drama and precision from a nigh-faultless brass section, and woodwind soloists that played to the Albert Hall as if it were a chamber venue, so compelling was their music-making.

The Nachtmusik movements were performed with a fitting grotesque beauty, never lingering, but dancing flittingly across the musical soundscape: from eerie offstage bells to dialogues between the winds and string soloists, devilish bursts of the brass contrasting the melodic mandolin and guitar, Petrenko remained in control as the master of sinister revels throughout. 

It was Mahler himself who, rehearsing for the premiere of his symphony, shouted over the orchestra: "and now comes the day!" as the curtains are flung open to the finale, letting the light stream in with a flurry of brass fanfares that soar above the orchestra. Here, Petrenko was unapologetic in his jubilation, driving his forces on, led by a fearless brass section, into a kaleidoscope of sounds and colours, allowing the night to return only for it to be comprehensively rejected in exuberant C Major. The musical references to the finale of Wagner's Meistersinger are often highlighted, and indeed with reason, for among the lurchings of tempo, of seeming uneven chaos and disorder, Mahler paints a picture of darkness to light, embracing all humanity in triumph. With Petrenko bearing the lantern, there was little ambiguity about the chaos, transforming it into a joyful celebration of the day, with clarity and conviction despite all frenzy. A real season highlight.

Intriguing Walker, Rushed Beethoven by the Chineke! Orchestra

Pace and Precision by Kevin John Edusei
Photo credit: BBC

Urban myth holds that the reason why the CD can play 74 minutes of music is in order for it to hold the full length of Wilhelm Furtwängler's legendary 1951 Bayreuth recording of Beethoven's 9th: 74 glorious minutes. Had Kevin John Edusei been around in the 1980s, perhaps we could have shaved a whole centimetre off the 12cm disc with this performance that came in at a sprightly 61 minutes, even with the second movement repeat, indeed possibly dipping beneath the hour by sparing the pauses between movements. The Chineke! did not hang about.

Unfortunately, it was often this speed which seemed to cause issues in the performance. Despite the best efforts of timpanist Jauvon Gilliam, whose rumbles and cracks were delivered with thunderous vigour above the orchestra, the first movement lacked drama, opting instead for a clear and crystalline directness which produced results that were certainly neat, and, to the credit to the playing of the Chineke!, they were effortlessly so. 

This was Beethoven efficient and rational. These were bywords of the first three movements as Edusei prioritised a driving tempo, often feeling as if there was little room for the orchestra, particularly the woodwind soloists in the third movement Adagio to grow under Edusei's often too inflexible baton. 

However bloodless the first three movements were, any sense of disfigured looseness was blown away by the entry of Ryan Speedo Green's booming bass voice, filling the Hall and energising both audience and orchestra into what could only be described as an inspired finale. Nicht diese Töne indeed! It was here where the vigour and energy that all hoped for erupted.

Freude! 200 singers energise the Ninth
Photo credit: BBC

The Chineke! Voices were on fine form, singing from memory. Being trained well by the eminent Simon Halsey, their diction was precise and fresh, and the ensemble thrilled in how unified they were in the sudden drops of volume and eruptions of freude. 

Here, we finally saw the inspiring message of Beethoven: the empowering nature of an ethnically diverse orchestra speaking his message to many who have been poorly represented in classical music, composers and musicians alike. Indeed, is so much of the work that the Chineke! have done since their founding in 2015 that we have to thank for the recent 'rediscovery' of unjustly neglected black composers, notably including Florence Price, whose Symphony No.1 will finally get its Proms Premiere next week by the Philadelphia Orchestra.* The Chineke! started the evening with George Walker's Lilacs, Celebrating his centenary this year, Walker was similarly unheard at the Proms before the debut of the Chineke! here in 2017. 

The movements of Lilacs are short, and may not make comfortable listening, but Walker distinctly spins a dark web over Whitman's elegiac poem; the lilacs that represent a fresh renewal after the death of Abraham Lincoln are clouded for Walker under jagged strings, with Nicole Cabell's gleaming soprano tone elegant and rich throughout. More Walker please.

* This concert, planned for September 8th, was cancelled following the death of Queen Elizabeth II that evening.