This season, Opera Holland Park celebrates its 30th anniversary. The company has garnered something of a reputation for its exploration of the works of Puccini and his verismo contemporaries; it is fitting, therefore, that it launches its new season with La fanciulla del West in a production which epitomises the company’s commitment to thoughtful drama.
La fanciulla, like La rondine, is a mature Puccini work which has never really received the love that it deserves. It’s a remarkably sophisticated piece, with arguably more psychological depth than Puccini’s more straightforward operas. The chorus of gold miners is as much of a character as the principals, going through their own journey from unforgiving adherents of bloody justice to a more nuanced, Christian-driven morality. The heroine, Minnie, is neither a diva nor an escort, but a teacher in the trappings of an innkeeper. Nor does she seem particularly young – there's an air of despairing frustration as she sees in Act 3 the risk of the love she has finally found being snatched away; this is a mature heroine in love with a deeply flawed man, and in seeking to preserve the budding relationship she empowers herself, one woman on a stage dominated by men.
Director Martin Lloyd-Evans' new production is a traditional one, and gets virtually everything right. Designer Anna Reid’s set, drawn from silent film footage, brings to life the no-frills life of a backwater Yukon town, the bar at the front in Act 1, Minnie’s cabin at the rear in Act 2 which spins and separates to form a space for the Act 3 gallows. Key to the production’s success is the depth that Lloyd-Evans brings to his characters. He handles the chorus beautifully, bringing out the miners’ humanity as they think of home, and as Sonora does a whip round, Lloyd-Evans emphasises the camaraderie, that sense of a band of brothers.
Each member seems deftly sketched and the attention to detail shows in the organic way they interact with each other even as the eyes are on the principals. Of the three leads, Lloyd-Evans seems to make most of Jack Rance: he gives us a man of authority, but loneliness. He’s aging, his powers are fading and in Minnie he sees a last chance of happiness. My one criticism of the direction is that Rance’s big Act 3 moment suffers from the decision to deploy the chorus up into the gangways; it brings the action to the audience, but all eyes swivel from Rance on stage to look at the chorus, a disservice to Robert Hayward, the baritone singing our lonely sheriff.
Hayward sang with a high baritone, forceful but unforced, though a little dry at the very top of the voice. He sketched out Rance’s progression from a controlled gravitas to wretched despair with skill, colouring the voice with a full palette. Tenor José de Eça avoided excessive swagger as Dick Johnson, focusing instead on the intensity of his connection with Minnie. De Eça’s voice has a sweetness and earnestness to it which contributed to a particularly fine delivery of “Ch'ella mi creda”. His higher register has a touch of wobble to it on a sustained note, but the registers are integrated and it was an assured vocal performance. As Minnie, Amanda Echalaz brought warmth and fervour to the role, but vocally was not on finest form, with some unsteadiness at the top and an occluded lower register. Among the comprimario roles, Aiden Edwards as Sonora particularly stood out, delivering a dynamic and passionate performance that embodied the change Minnie wrought among the miners. The chorus sang with natural gusto.
The laurels for this production must however go to Matthew Kofi Waldren and the City of London Sinfonia who delivered a magnificent performance. Despite punchy and forceful strings, Kofi Waldren gave space for the woodwinds to breathe and highlighted the opera’s velvet textures and broad range. This was Puccini playing at its very finest and for this alone, the production is worth catching.
