Such was my primary impression of Idomeneo, King of Crete, at the English National Opera last night. A good story, beautiful singing, fine music, interesting sets, but the real revelation was experiencing something that seemed half way between the Mozart most of us know and the older operatic tradition of Handel and Purcell. Admittedly, I might not have noticed this had we not just finished a special opera season on the BBC, during which I watched both an informative history of Italian-language opera and a delightful production of The Marriage of Figaro. (Which, to my mind, has to be the greatest opera ever written.)
Idomeneo has some classic Mozart moments. A stirring overture, a wonderfully romantic duet, poignant soprano arias, a masterful quartet of interweaving voices, even some musical combinations that you'd swear he reused years later in Figaro. But there are other bits that hardly seem to be Mozart. Heavy use of harpsichord. Ponderous transitions between arias. A creeping pace to both the music and the plot. I felt like I was on a bridge between the 17th and 18th century. And quite happy to be heading for the latter, frankly.
This was Mozart's first opera seria (noble and serious instead of comic), written when he was 24. It's one of the numerous tales of the fall out from the Trojan war, in this case involving the returning King of Crete, a hostage princess who's fallen for the victorious prince, her rival the bad girl Electra, and the usual ancient Greek mix of prophecy, hubris and capricious gods. Fortunately, Mozart bucked the Greek trend and gave us a mostly happy ending (bar Electra's madness and suicide), which does perk up the evening.
English National Opera sings everything in English, always irritating me with an Italian language opera. Why change out of one of the world's most melodic languages when the vocal contortions of the art form make it necessary to read the captions most of the time anyway? It's one of the ENO's founding principals, however, so you have to go with it. They're also much more likely to go with modern, edgy interpretations than the Royal Opera House.
In Idomeneo's case, this meant that the whole thing was set in a sparse, white marbled world that looked like one of those very expensive, very streamlined modern hotels. I suppose it's not that much of a stretch for a Cretan setting, and the sea ... a character in itself in this opera ... was cleverly incorporated; most impressively beyond a picture window that stretched the length of the main palace set. At times, this worked. It could also be distracting, as palace staff criss-crossed the stage often enough to be really irritating; and disappointing when the sea monster ... usually the big production number for this show ... appeared simply as a bad storm. Another recession-era move, one assumes.
The performances were excellent, especially soprano Emma Bell who carried off an Electra you loved to hate, yet really felt for at the end. I immediately wanted to get to iTunes upon returning home and download the best bits, which is always a vote of confidence for any show.
Augmenting the whole evening was our choice to book dinner at the theatre. The American Bar is a cozy, wood-paneled enclave at basement level that's been given over to private dining. You book and order in advance, allowing them to have everything ready and serve at top speed. Arrive at 6 and have two courses and wine before the 7pm curtain. We both started with crayfish dressed with a tangy Marie Rose sauce before moving on to sea bass for me and chicken for my partner. Nicely presented, well prepared traditional options, served with tremendous good humour by the waiter who was looking after all six tables. At the 20-minute first interval we returned to chocolate tart, a hearty cheese plate and the end of our wine. Coffee wrapped up the meal at the second interval. The shuttling between the basement restaurant and our first balcony seats was a bit of a hassle, but on balance it was a much more relaxing option than the usual rush of trying to pack in a pre-theatre dinner at a restaurant and dashing for the curtain, then standing around aimlessly consuming average wine at the intervals.
A successful evening all around and one I suspect we'll repeat soon, as Don Giovanni is on the calendar this winter.
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