Czech Philharmonic Orchestra (Susan Elkin reviews)

Anvil Arts, Basingstoke, 16 February 2018

Dvorak is to the Czech Philharmonic what, say, Strauss is to the Vienna Philharmonic. It’s in the blood and in this exuberant concert you could hear all that Bohemian ancestry pounding in every bar. And they want to keep it that way, which is why almost every player in the orchestra is Czech. The result is a phenomenal corporate “instrument” which conductor Tomas Netopil, an energetic but businesslike conductor, plays, and plays with, to remarkable effect. By the time we got to the final encore – Brahms Hungarian Dance 5 – he was ready to have fun jokily exaggerating the tempo changes with electrifying precision and I certainly wasn’t the only person who left the auditorium beaming with delight.

One of the reasons for the distinctive sound is the unusual layout. Tomas Netopil has violas on the right opposite the first violins with cellos and second violins on the inside. Double basses, meanwhile are majestically lined up along the back behind the horns and woodwind on a tier which puts their feet on a level with violinists’ heads. It means that you can often hear both viola and bass parts with unusual clarity and alters the balance of the whole.

The programme was a Dvorak sandwich. We began with the Symphonic Variations in which Dvorak imaginatively explores the fugal form at one point moving from second violins, thence to violas, first violins and cellos in that order. It’s quite a showpiece and doesn’t get as many outings (in the UK at least) as perhaps it should. It’s a very vibrantly orchestrated work which allowed the orchestra to show what all its sections can do.

In the middle we left Dvorak’s homeland and headed to Russia for a splendid performance of Shostakovich’s First Cello Concerto – a work which is very much more on the public radar these days than it used to be because brilliant young players (Guy Johnston, Sheku Kanneh-Mason et al) keep winning major competitions with it. On this occasion Alisa Wielerstein, serious and romantic looking in a statement scarlet dress, played it excitingly with lots of tension. Accompanied by a slightly scaled down orchestra, she took the first movement at a terrific tempo and found a mysterious, plangent but appealingly resolute sound in the moderatomovement. When she finished someone in the audience gasped “oh!” in amazement. It was involuntary, I think, but a very valid testament to Weilerstein’s verve and technique.

And so to the sunny New World Symphony in which the unconventional orchestra layout heightened awareness of the apposition phrasing between lower strings and other sections. And Tomas Nepotil managed to make the largo sound as fresh as if the audience had never heard it before. It was played with warm, affectionate delicacy, especially at the recapitulation of the challengingly familiar first subject.  I loved the effect of the bass pizzicato when you can see and hear every player clearly and the rousing scherzo accomplished all its time signature and key changes so neatly that one was left sighing in admiration at the tightness of that glorious Czech sound. And as for the finale, the speed was so cracking in places that it made my amateur violinist fingers ache even to think about it. But it came off with aplomb.

It’s a long journey home from Basingstoke to where I live in South London and this leisurely concert – with its 7.45 start, two encores and lots of applause – didn’t finish until after 10.00pm. I have rarely been so glad that I made the effort.

First published by Lark reviews:

Merry Opera Company

Wetherspoons Opera House, Tunbridge Wells and touring

Billed as “opera meets jazz” this 1960s Figaro is rescored by Harry Sewer for kit drum, bass and keyboard led by Gabriel Chernick – a development which took many audience members, including me, by surprise although there was plenty of warm appreciation and laughter.

Interestingly, many of the arias are sung more or less straight against swing and other jazz rhythms which must be pretty challenging to do. The accompaniment plays around with harmonies too. It works quite well in some numbers – such as Cherubino’s  (Bethany Horak-Hallett) agitato Act 1 number, although there are some rocky starts to arias as singers awkwardly find their way into the melody without the usual cues.

Much less successful is, for example, Figaro’s (Alistair Ollorenshaw) angry patter aria in the final act which loses a lot of edge because it is softened and trivialised by the jazzy stuff from the band. And the Countess’s (Rhiannon Llewellyn) second big aria, usually sung as “Dove sono”, is dreadful in this version. It is one of Mozart’s very simple glorious melodies depicting a complex mindset and he knew that it needs only the gentlest of accompaniments. It is completely spoiled by the fuzzy treatment it gets here although Llewellyn, a fine singer, does her best to rise above the schmultz.

In amongst all this is some excellent singing especially in the quartets and other group numbers. The cast has great fun with the reconciliation septet at the end of the first half and the choral work in the finale is beautifully balanced.

Anna Sideris is a suitably sparky Susanna, there is a good Handyman cameo from Christopher Faulkner and Eleanor Sanderson-Nash is a delightfully clear voiced, fresh Barbarina.

Phil Wilcox is strong as the wrong footed Count too, especially at the end when he hams up all those rising fifths. They’re traditionally associated with forgiveness but we know full well that he doesn’t mean a word of it – and, in this version, the Countess knows that too.

Amanda Holden’s translation into English is hilarious and that’s partly why this piece comes off theatrically. There’s a lot of humour in the incongruity of the juxtaposition of the Enlightenment with the 1960s, musically and in every other way – and in many instances that is what makes the cognoscenti in the audience laugh. At another level it’s just cheerful and funny. Michelle Bradbury’s striking, and ingenious, black and white Chanel-style set adds to the ambience. So do black-clad, finger clicking figures – part of the 10-strong cast who form an ensemble between their other appearances – who dance with authentic 1960s loucheness.

I haven’t seen such an experimental Mozart opera since I saw Don Giovanni in a gay nightclub with all roles except Don Giovanni reversed. The material is, of course, so strong, that it bounces back fairly robustly whatever you do to it. This Figaro is a pleasant enough way of spending a Sunday afternoon but on balance I prefer my Mozart jazz-free.

First published by Lark Reviews: http://www.larkreviews.co.uk/?cat=3