Un ballo in maschera is one of Verdi’s classic audience treats, a mixture of brilliant love and menacing darkness shot through with (often the bitterest) comedy. Like Rigoletto, Ballo sees the course of true love punished by confusion, suspicion and betrayal: our hero Riccardo is passionately and disastrously in love with his best friend Renato’s wife, Amelia, and although they never actually transgress their positions (as best friend and wife) in any meaningful way, the opera ends violently with Riccardo dead, Renato aghast and Amelia’s marriage almost certainly destroyed. Sung in beautifully clear English, Timothy Nelson’s small-scale production for Iford pulls the audience right inside Verdi’s vortex of emotions which keeps Ballo so gripping from beginning to end.
Both director and designer, Nelson sets Ballo in England in what feels like the date Iford’s own cloister was constructed, 1914. Cricket whites, modest floral dresses, evening dress and cigarettes give a sense of the loucheness, yet residual innocence, of the very early 1920s, while poppies and military uniforms speak of darker human experience. A clean and minimal set (there’s never room for much more in Iford’s jewel-like interior) allows strong visual effects to be created simply: the graveyard scene, in particular, is gothically beautiful, with swirling mist, eerie shadows and a weeping stone angel at its heart. Throughout, Nelson uses balloons as props and scenery, allowing for a truly heart-attack-inducing gunshot in the finale, as well as loud bangs at other times (occasionally unscripted). At first, I confess, I wasn’t certain about all those balloons, but this really is a production which, if you give it time, just gets cleverer and cleverer.
The same fascinating progression is to be found in the truly innovative lighting design from Charlie Lucas, who has built a platform over Iford’s flagstones, enabling him to light scenes (like Ulrica’s lair) exotically from beneath, as well as above. This is particularly effective for Ballo’s supernatural moments, so important to the plot and yet so easily spoilt: here, everything feels satisfyingly spooky. The orchestra also hits the mark: Oliver Gooch, conducting the CHROMA ensemble, creates a full, warm and vibrant sound, moving elegantly from the black to the sparkling moments of Verdi’s constantly contrasting score.
Brian Arreola is a delightful Riccardo, reminding us that this really is one of the most loveable of all Verdi’s heroes, giving him charisma, confidence and a sense of infectious chimerical joy, as well as strong and lyrical singing. Arreola’s Riccardo is a definitely man who lights up every room and fires every heart, reminding us this character began life as a king (before the censors forced Verdi to rename him); he contrasts brilliantly with Eddie Wade’s elder statesman Renato, the seasoned campaigner trying vainly to rein in the young leader with the benefit of his wisdom. Wade’s portrayal of an honourable man driven to dishonourable actions through anger is both compelling and saddening: both Renato’s rage, and his final remorse, is terrible to behold.