Last week's key word was Freude*, Joy, this week, Freiheit, Freedom, both of them redolent of Enlightenment idealism.
It does not require the presence of the West-Eastern Divan orchestra under Daniel Barenboim, nor a performance with a narration written by the late Edward Said (the orchestra's co-founder) to underline the universal relevance of the message.
For those that don't know, 'Fidelio' is the name Leonore adopts to work under-cover in a prison where she believes her husband Florestan is held as a political prisoner. The prison governor, his political enemy, wishes Florestan killed. Leonore finds him deep in the dungeon and they are reunited, however briefly; the King's Minister arrives and orders the release of the political prisoners.
Reading Twitter after the event, the use of the narrative, delivered by Waltraud Meier, was not popular. I liked that it was succinct, and, in the absence of any staging, it made a lot of sense to do away with the dialogue, which, even when fully staged, detracts from my appreciation of the work. There was criticism that while the opera was sung in German, the narration was spoken in English. Although I sympathise with those who find this inconsistent, again, for me, it worked
This performance had been a hot tip/hot ticket for this year's season. I was eager to hear Waltraud Meier who does not appear often in London - the last time heard her here was in Die Walküre four years ago; I did also her as Sieglinde in Barcelona last year. This was the first time I have heard her live as anything but Sieglinde.
It took me a long time to become a Fidelio fan, although not for want of trying, but I think the effort has been worthwhile. I first saw it many years ago, as an Opera North production in Nottingham. I have a CD, conducted by Daniel Barenboim, and with Waltraud Meier too, but despite an extraordinarily strong cast, this has never really caught my imagination. A splendid concert performance at the Barbican three years ago, under Colin Davis (not Haitink as I stated to several people on Saturday evening) really brought it to life for me; a lacklustre performance at ROH did not diminish my enthusiasm, and, as I wrote at length a while back, there are some decent complete performances available.
I do not think that Saturday's performance will erase my memories of the Davis/LSO, also available on CD, but it was a glorious, enjoyable and worthwhile night. I could find little fault with the orchestra and was pleasantly surprised by Barenboim's shaping of the piece. The chorus was excellent - the combined BBC Singers and Geoffrey Mitchell Choir -although insufficiently large to fill the Albert Hall in the way that the LSO Chorus and ROH superb men's chorus had filled their respective venues in the key choral moments. But the Prisoners' Chorus was nevertheless a highlight
Waltraud Meier did not disappoint. Her spoken narration was precise in enunciation and warm in tone, and her singing was exquisite. Not the loudest of voices, I struggled sometimes to hear her above the orchestra, but that may have been a result of having the fifth seat in a four seat box ie located behind the curtain. She is compelling on stage and she was particularly impressive in her great aria and in duet with Adriana Kučerová as Marzelline. However, overall I did not find her Leonore to be the match of her Sieglinde, a role in which she reigns supreme.
Adriana aside - she sang with a brilliant and clear voice - the lesser roles were at best functional, and largely uninspiring. Which leaves the two other stand out performers as John Tomlinson and Simon O'Neill. I know several people who actively dislike Sir John, even calling him Shouting John Tom. I can understand why, but the lack of lyricism in his voice is more than compensated by his dramatic interpretation. In a concert performance this is largely dependent on vocal drama and he did not disappoint. By and large I failed to get much sense of the actual characters of the protagonists but John's Rocco was convincingly a petty functionary who would trim and bow to the whims of whoever.
I was curious about Simon O'Neill because I have never heard him live, and I am not sure I have heard much recorded either, so I really didn't know what to expect. I enjoyed his answers provided in a Q&A.
Regular readers will know that, in general, most operas stand and fall on the tenor role. But Florestan is a curious role, in that he does not appear until the second half. But what a way to appear!
What a fabulous aria. A couple of my favourite versions are on YouTube - Plácido (blimey, I've forgotten I uploaded that) and Jonas. It seems incredibly difficult to sing, but when the tenor ets it right, it sounds stupendous.
And I will give high marks to Simon O'Neill. What a voice! To my ears a real heldentenor, lots of colour at the bottom and rising to a (more-or-less) confident high; where there were sounds of strain, I believe that this was the intention of the composer to emphasise Florestan's torment in one of opera's great Mad Scenes.
He has a real steel to his voice and reaches out to the audience, even if he didn't characterise particularly well. And he looks somewhat awkward in the way he holds his head as he sings. I definitely want to hear him again. I have to be honest because he is inhabiting similar parts of the repertoire as Plácido and Jonas, he would not be my first choice in those roles. But hey, the more glorious heldentenors the better. Just a small note of trivia, he hails from the same small town in New Zealand as does my nephew!
The opera finished with a barnstormer of a finale, bringing an excellent and memorable evening almost to a close.
The audience applauded long and hard. I had read about one of the previous evening's Proms, with the same orchestra, where it had been said that Daniel Barenboim milked the applause. It's fair to say he did the same here. Heck, he knows how to play an audience - how long has he been performing now? Just short of 60 years! He then spoke from the dais, reminding the audience of how the orchestra comes from across the cultural divide, and we applauded - although, I suspect that people opposed to greater understanding between Arab and Jew would not have turned up to the concert in the first place. He made the point, IIRC, that regardless of the social-political reasons behind the orchestra, these are forgotten as the music begins, they would never be an excuse for poor musicianship, and music is not about politics. Sadly, this was not broadcast on the TV.
The applause went on, as Daniel went shaking hands with each orchestra member - it was the final concert of their summer tour. When the orchestra started posing for photos with each other, I knew it was time to leave, and so did most of the rest of the audience.
Just as a side note, for various reasons I arrived at the hall extremely late. Just in time, or so it seemed, to sprint up to my box and take my seat, no time to go to the loo, or buy a programme or water (of course, in reality, I had time to empty the entire contents of my bag and put most of them back in again).
In my box were four people who were clearly together - two couples and a picnic bag. I arrived to find that one had put her cardigan and bag on my seat. No more than a misjudgement, I am sure, but both initially, and after the interval, they seemed to resent my presence. I suspect that they thought as they had booked a box they had sole right to it and resented my presence, seemingly an intruder.
I was in the fifth seat, behind them, and I had been in a similar position for Samson a few nights previously - my own fault for booking after the priority deadline. I think that I paid the same for a seat with a very restricted view as I would have done for one of the main seats in the box.
For Fidelio, which was a sell-out, I knew I ought to be grateful I got a seat at all, because it seemed to be a capacity audience, but Samson wasn't, and there were some empty seats in similar boxes (although they may have been no-shows rather than unsold), and there were a lot of empty seats in the Circle.
There's a little part of me that suspects that because I was buying a single ticket I was treated less favourably than if I had been wanting to buy a pair, and, you know, that annoys me.
It wasn't a good seat, and it was only made bearable by my decision to stand for much of the performance. For Samson, that was relatively easy - I sat for the recit - but I really am not good at standing for long periods
Oh, and another annoyance. The BBC and some other media seem obsessed about the Prommers, especially those in the arena. It implies that the thousands of people in the rest of the hall don't matter, perhaps even don't love music. I accept that some Prommers attend very many performances and make contributions to the season, but there are many people who could not stand if they chose to, and it seems that these media assume that everyone who is in a newbie, a mere casual attender. And that is reinforced by the rather annoying chant "Arena to Audience" whereby the Prommers announce the running total and remind people of the retiring charity collection.
There are numerous other reviews of this in many of the usual places on the internet. I will provide links to blogs as I find them.
* I attended the Beethoven 9 which was okay but I don't think I shall write it up because the performance was nothing special
