Hidden identities, awkward relatives and a path to true love that’s far from smooth; all the best bits of buffa appear in that greatest of Czech operatic comedies, Smetana’s The Bartered Bride. With standout moments for multiple principals and that intrinsic sense of Czech melody, plus plenty of opportunity for spectacle, it’s a delight, and one not heard enough in the UK. Where better to catch a performance, then, than at the National Theatre in Prague?
Director Alice Nellis updates the setting to the present day, conceiving her production as a play-within-a-play. A silent director is a regular presence on stage, bustling round correcting positions, encouraging cast members to be off book and dealing with inevitable disasters – including a ‘break a leg’ moment that recalls Joyce DiDonato’s incident at Covent Garden in 2009. Nellis’ production, we are advised, “does not only poke fun at villagers of bygone times, but also at those who for generations have striven to find the formula for restaging the Czech ‘opera of operas’.” I remain unconvinced how effectively this goal was achieved. The production is fundamentally hindered by two Mařenkas – we see the audition process within the opening scene of Act 1 – with one acting as a cover for the other. It’s a clever idea, but in practice adds an unnecessary layer of complexity to proceedings and breaks vocal continuity. The bigger barrier is that behind the comedy, The Bartered Bride is fundamentally a sweet love story. By dressing it in a meta cloak, the romance becomes artificial.
Some elements work: Jeník as a visiting star, complete with sunglasses and autographs at the ready, lends a ‘bad boy’ air to the character that complements its slightly subversive element. The polka at the end of Act 1 becomes a form of modern dance-off with tower blocks in the background; a delightfully incongruous display against the music, which just about hangs together. The visual highlight, though, is surely the skočná of Act 3, in which dancers, costumed as apes, dance, trampoline and trapeze across the stage in an excellent display of choreography.
Vocally it was an excellent evening. Peter Berger was on particularly good form as Jeník, displaying a ringing tenor with both gleam and warmth: his “Jak možna věřit” was the highlight of the evening, delivered with purity of tone and ardency of expression. Singing the first of the Mařenkas, Alžběta Poláčková has a thicker, larger soprano than the second, Doubravka Novotná, which powered across the orchestra; Novotná’s smaller instrument made less of an impression, her presentation captured the character’s mix of grit and youth more deftly.
Bass Zdeněk Plech seemed slow to warm up as Kecal, the patter in his Act 1 aria slightly cumbersome and pinched at the end of each phrase, but by Act 2 the issues had receded for the delivery of a fine duet with Berger. Josef Moravec gave us a geeky and nervy Vašek, his lighter tenor pinging, top notes secure and diction sound. Lucie Hájková completed the principals as Esmeralda, her fragrant soprano sounding joyful and agile, capturing the character’s bohemian flair.
Unsurprisingly, the National Theatre Orchestra under conductor Jaroslav Kyzlink sounded excellent; thick-grained strings in the overture and opening chorus gave a sense of varnished mahogany that dominated throughout the evening, a throb that could be heard in the stomach. Pacing was spot on, and particularly fine in the polka. A superb display of musical talent, even if slightly hindered by an imperfect production.
