I was in attendance at a performance of this by the New London Consort at Queen Elizabeth Hall. I do not have any recordings, but I thought it was a piece with which I had at least passing familiarity. Turns out I didn't. So confusing with all these different operas all about Orpheus and Eurydice.
This is historically a very special opera. Not, technically, the first opera, but the oldest one that survives in a do-able form. Crucially, it was first performed in 1607 (February 24, to be precise) so there is a widespread impulse to celebrate 400 years of opera with a bit of a party. This is not the first production in London this year; additionally, the Lufthansa Baroque Festival will perform it, and it is part of Opera North's rep this season. Last year, the Primi Divi had a special award for 'Best Production of Le Nozze di Figaro'; perhaps this year there might be scope for 'Best Production of L'Orfeo'!
The evening got off to an inauspicious start with an absence of lights on stage. So the audience were treated to the sight of a techie crawling around the orchestra while the conductor, Philip Pickett, extemporised about the opera. He explained that there were two parts to the orchestra - the Olympia/Pastorale part and the Inferno part - who are the baddies, so we duly obliged with pantomime boos and hisses. It went through my mind that everybody should hold their hands up, because many hands make light work. Fortunately, I was on aisle seat, with two empty seats next to me (no-shows, I think, the hall was all but full), so I had no one with whom to share my dubious humour.
the cast was largely unknown, to me at least. The only name I recognised was that of Michael George, whom I have heard on many occasions, but I'm afraid I was inordinately amused when overhearing a very elderly couple discussing afterwards and constantly referring to him as George Michael.
Most of the rest were on the young side, and whilst there was no one who struck me as a star about to explode, I was very aware of some beautiful voices and compelling performances. The cast was Mark Tucker, Joanne Lunn, Julia Gooding, Revital Raviv (definitely my favourite name of the week), Faye Newton, Mark Chambers, Andrew King, Joseph Corwell, Michael George, Simon Grant, Mark Rowlinson and Martin Robson. The star was undoubtedly Mark Tucker, whom I have never encountered before, but seemed to inhabit the role.
It was a staged performance, a revival of a Jonathan Miller production from three or four years ago. No scenery, and the only sets were two benches, more functional than decorative. It worked well in the small space, a lot more satisfying than a pure 'park-and-bark' concert version would have been. Nevertheless, I regret that the house lights were not reduced enough to prevent me reading the programme. Whilst lights remain, it is too easy to be distracted, notwithstanding the absorbing music and performance.
I thought the orchestra was excellent. I do like period instruments, especially in a space like QEH - I don't think they work so well in big spaces - and I generally know I'm in for a treat when there are sackbuts and theorbos. To be frank, it would sound all wrong with a modern orchestra.
It lacked many of the elements that put people off baroque opera. I was not conscious of there being long passages of recitative secco, and although the harpsichords featured prominently, I did not feel that they were substituting for actual orchestrated music. Talking of harpsichords, a man greeted me with "Hello, didn't we meet the other night - you were playing the harpsichord." Politely, I said not, but fell to wondering whether I could pass myself off as a harpsichordist, before remembering that I can't play the right and left hands simulataneously on any keyboard...
There was a counter-tenor in the cast, but he was used judiciously. So I never got the chance to go through my usual mantra of 'beautiful but now you're getting boring...'. He was beautiful.
There were plenty of instances of ensemble singing. Only a small chorus, consisting of the previously named soloists, but they sounded magnificently. What I like about Monteverdi is his use of counterpoint; I like the way the sound seems to bounce around.
Most of all, this is undoubtedly a tenor's opera. Clearly, the first surviving opera was written to showcase a tenor, and it's a bit galling to think of all those decades - centuries - that passed with more attention given to castrati (now replaced by c-ts) and baritones. Most splendid was the 'virtuouso aria' Possente spirto, no less a tour de force than anything that Wagner might have written 250 years later.
But I was very disappointed that they seem to have omitted the Can Can.
