I went to the English National Opera on Saturday night to see their new production of Aida. Their last attempt at this opera was pretty dire, dreadful costumes and bad production, and it died a death and vanished after one season. Pretty wasteful as I am sure it must have cost a bomb.
Twenty years later, ENO have had another stab at it and, while I thoroughly enjoyed the evening, I am not totally sure that this one is going to fare any better. Reviews have been mixed which is a kind way of putting it with one critic describing the conducting of the performance as 'poor and forced' and another raving about it. Pays your money and takes your choice I suppose.
Main reason for attending this particular production was, of course, because the costumes and sets were designed by the pink haired fashion designer, Zandra Rhodes. I am not totally sure that this should be the real reason for going, it was not mine as I would have gone to see a new Aida anyway, though it added interest. Of course, it was terrific, zinging colours, lashings of blues, golds, pinks, oranges, the guards in long golden skirts and topless (they were male I hasten to add) though some of them could have benefited from a squirt of Tropez fake tan and a few of them were sporting man boobs to be proud of, but ultimately, much though I enjoyed the evening, I left with rather an empty feeling.
The main storyline in Aida is that of two women in love with the same man. It is a love triangle, described in the programme notes as being 'basically a chamber opera'. This is right but it's slap bang in the middle of a huge grand spectacle and that is why most people go to see it. Much though I love the first two acts and the Triumphal Scene and all the shenanigans that goes with it, my favourite part of the whole work is the final act when Radames is duped into betraying his country and ends up in a tomb with Aida while Amneris mourns the man who never loved her. The final duet is simply heartbreaking. It is almost as if Verdi is giving us two acts of 'fun' and then saying 'right here is the real story, now sit quiet and listen'. And such is the power and beauty of the music we do.
The singing of the cast was mixed. Radames is like Siegfried, a pig of a role, and can wreck a tenor if he sings it too early in his career. Placido Domingo who, on paper, is the perfect Radames once came to grief in the love duet in the third act finding it difficult to keep tone and went wildly flat, and if he finds it hard what hope is there for lesser mortals? This Radames did a very decent job though his voice was one of those back of the throat tenors only widening out when he sang full throttle and just let go.
Of course, we all know that elephants are not allowed on stage any more (health and safety blah blah blah) and we would not put such a noble animal through such an ordeal anyway, but we were promised Zandra's version of an elephant. See above. Yes it was great fun, yes it brought the house down, but not sure that it would not have been better placed in Aladdin at the local rep.
I probably won't go and see it again but, despite the above seeming nit picking, I did have a lovely evening and came out feeling once again that Verdi was a master.
