Irish National Opera’s touring staging of The Bartered Bride may play out on a stage scarcely larger than a household rug, but what it lacks in acreage it more than compensates for in spirit. With singers and a five-piece band packed shoulder-to-shoulder, this modestly scaled production radiates charm, good humour and an infectious sense of “let’s-make-it-work” inventiveness. Director Louisa Muller, ably supported by a cast in notably fine voice, turns potential limitations into a lively evening of theatrical resourcefulness.
Smetana’s tale – Mařenka being manoeuvred into marriage with the hapless Vašek despite her love for the steadfast Jeník – demands pace, personality and a keen ear for comic timing. Here, the comedy landed cleanly, helped by an English translation that kept jokes fleet-footed and immediate.
Much of the credit rests with Richard Peirson, whose triple duty as arranger, conductor and répétiteur was the evening’s quiet marvel. Certainly, one sometimes missed the full orchestral swell, but Peirson’s arrangement for piano, violin, cello, clarinet and horn had its own nimble energy, lending scenes a chamber-like directness and almost cabaret immediacy.
Muller relocates the opera to rural Ireland in the 1970s, a world still shaped by land, money and dutiful marriages, an analogy that largely works. If anything, the tighter social constraints of 1950s Ireland might have made the parallel even sharper. Still, the setting yields many deft touches, not least a running joke involving selective refusal to pronounce the “th”. More puzzling was the overlay of Wild West fantasy elements: intended to symbolise escape and self-reinvention, they proved more distracting than illuminating.
Joan O’Cleary’s costumes are an eclectic brew, ranging from the sharply observed to the frankly baffling. Pub-goers in wellies and cowboy hats sit oddly beside parents in fur and formalwear, while the circus troupe, gaudy but amusing, at least supply visual zest.
Vocally the evening belonged to Amy Ní Fhearraigh, whose Mařenka grew steadily in assurance. After a tentative start, she settled into gleaming form, handling the role’s high writing with ease and shaping her arias with an appealing mixture of sincerity and steel. Her warning to Vašek was delivered with spry comic bite, while “Such deception can’t be true” floated with touching, bittersweet clarity.
As Jeník, Egor Zhuravskii offered warm, handsome tone and elegant phrasing, his middle and upper registers particularly well supported. He and Ní Fhearraigh shared a natural, unforced chemistry, their duets – especially “I shall always love you” – tender without turning saccharine.
John Molloy all but walked away with the show as Kecal. Armed with an imposing bass voice, impeccable timing and a gloriously officious manner, he commanded every scene, cajoling, wheedling and contract-waving with irresistible comic authority. William Pearson made a notably sympathetic Vašek, his stammer judged to perfection and never allowed to tip into caricature; his fretful aria “She has a plan to kill me” was oddly touching.
Carolyn Holt and David Howes were convincing as Mařenka’s eager, slightly overbearing parents, their rustic awkwardness neatly clashing with the more refined manners of Háta and Mícha, who entered in Act 3 with crisp vocal delivery and well-judged comic detail. The circus trio – Megan O’Neill, Ben Escorcio and Matthew Mannion – added bursts of colour and well-timed mischief.
For all its small scale, this Bartered Bride succeeded through verve, clarity and sheer collective enthusiasm. It may not have had the plushness of a full orchestra or the sweep of a grand stage, but it offered something rarer: a production that trusts wit, warmth and imagination to carry the day... and they did so, delightfully.
