Fidelio, the latest production from Nederlandse Reisopera, was a measured and thoughtful exploration of themes such as the identity, freedom, love, sacrifice, courage and loyalty, all of which are as relevant today as they were to the ancién régime time of Beethoven in the wake of the French Revolution. “There is always hope,” words from the British director John Fulljames, echoed through every aspect of this polished performance, a joint production with Den Kongelige Opera, Copenhagen (2020) and Teatr Wielki, Warsaw (2021).
The dramatic opening, using the Leonore Overture no. 2, Op.72a from the original 1805 score, contrasted wonderfully with the opaque quality of the horns and matched the stark whiteness of the stage, lit with just the word Leonore. Constantly changing lighting effects, akin to a cliff-hanger in a gripping novel, left us wanting more. Whilst some may have been nervous about attending a performance minus the dialogue, clever use of onstage visuals more than compensated; if anything they enhanced the experience. We watched the transformation of Leonore into Fidelio unfold before our very eyes in her bid to save her imprisoned husband Florestan from his dungeon prison cell.
Written the year after Beethoven’s Third Symphony, Fidelio is full of orchestral colour, from lyrical cellos to off-stage trumpets, and Otto Tausk’s masterful and meticulous command of this incredible score, creating suspense at every corner, was mesmerising. Phion Orkest was on fire! The French horns were the undoubted stars of the show with their hugely intricate and impressive hunting calls.
Equally impressive were the soloists. I initially wanted more from Yorck Felix Speer’s Rocco in the opening numbers, especially in the lower range of his voice. But once he was threatened by the evil Pizarro, Speer soon found his true self. Julietta Aleksanyan was utterly convincing as Marzelline and even brought a lovely comic element to the proceeding in her exchanges with her suitor, Jaquino. The arrival on stage of Kelly God as Leonore with her rich dramatic voice really set the tone. Her words at times surged through the Wilminktheater like the wind: turbulent and unpredictable, yet contrasted by moments of intense calm and tender affection.
Bastiaan Everink’s Pizarro, emerging from the shadows in his glistening silver suit, was the true embodiment of evil. He gave us possibly the most dramatic moment of the night, standing amidst the menacing, balaclava-clad prison guards and looking every bit the Bond villain. His commanding vocals brought echoes of Mozart’s Don Giovanni to mind as we all cowered in fear.