Some years ago, two friends threw caution to the wind at a party and hooked up, despite the fact that one was wearing an extremely cumbersome Minions outfit. In normal circumstances, a Minions costume is not deemed to be conventionally attractive, nor the most practical garb for rakish seduction. It was, of course, Dulcamara’s elixir of love that banished such mundane problems, uncorked their mutual attraction and smoothed the path to romance. Like Adina and Nemorino, they are now in their happily ever after.
English Touring Opera’s new production – performed in English – of L’elisir d’amore sees Nemorino starting the evening in a less attractive outfit: a giant fish head. Director Martin Constantine relocates the opera to a 1980s English seaside town; out of the way, slightly downtrodden, with a gritty selection of people who will suffer any indignity to survive in a withering local economy. The update has its charms and virtues; that original sense of rural isolation of Basque Spain is beautifully captured, and designer April Dalton has created a striking set, dominated on one side by a shabby theatre advertising Tristan und Isolde (a lovely touch) and a fish and chip van on the other. The back is the sea wall whence one character makes a particularly prominent entrance, and we are greeted as we enter the theatre by piped seagull calls.
Yet Constantine’s concept is flawed in its execution. Giannetta, traditionally closely associated with Adina, has virtually no interaction with her, instead running the fish and chip van (Nemorino is her employee) with military efficiency – indeed, she inexplicably appears to be in charge of the wider townsfolk. Constantine captures Nemorino’s position as the town grunt astutely, but his conception of Adina seems far wide of the mark; she appears on stage during the overture looking generally baffled, and seems costumed and directed in the first half as a dowdy librarian, with no sass or spark, which creates a fundamental disconnect between stage and text. There’s also no real sense of the power dynamic that places Adina as a figure of tremendous local weight, save that she’s possibly more literate than those around her. Even with Nemorino, it’s hard to detect any real spark between the two in Act 1, making it tricky for the comic inevitability of their relationship to land. A few of the gags seemed somewhat laboured, though they went down well with the audience.
Among the cast, first honours must go to Natasha Page, singing Adina. Her soprano has a decent trill, a clean top and some good pianissimi, though when pushed it became a touch shrill. Baritone Timothy Nelson was a fine Belcore, robust in presence and in voice. Of the singers, he was the one who made the most of the English text with some pointed diction, and showed an instrument that flipped on a dime from velvet to steel. Tamsanqa Tylor Lamani struggled to make an impression as Nemorino. His grainy tenor is not a powerful instrument and lacked the agility for which much of the music calls, though he gave a heartfelt and carefully judged “Una furtiva lagrima”. Emyr Wyn Jones’ patter as Dulcamara sometimes felt uncomfortable on the ear, but he has a decent lower register and he brought an appropriate oiliness to the role.
In the pit, first night jitters may have caused a few issues in harmony between pit and stage, with the reduced, but enthusiastic chorus sounding pushed particularly in the first few scenes, but, slightly unconventional tempi notwithstanding, Alice Farnham led an effervescent reading of the score. Gripes aside, this is a spirited production that should travel well; the principals and supporting singers perform with energy, and the rough and ready feeling has a certain charm of which Donizetti would surely have approved.
