It would be appropriate for this original language production to replace the adjective “flying” in the translation from German with “fleeing”, not just because the Dutchman is trying to escape from his curse in his once-in-seven-year opportunities to step ashore to find a faithful wife, but because director Annabel Arden and Opera North make strong links with the fact that the company is proud to be a Theatre of Sanctuary. This leads to the establishment of strong connections on stage to the often tragic circumstances of refugees and asylum seekers. The exciting first night performance was prefaced with an explanation of what was to follow; the recorded voices of actual victims telling their stories are heard in front of the main curtain at several points, one of them the only survivor of a dinghy collapse in the Channel in which dozens drowned. At times it feels like the point is being over-stressed, but on the whole, the idea works.
Soprano Layla Claire was unwell, so Mari Wyn Williams was called in to sing from the side of the stage while Claire mimed, with special emphasis on showing her conflicted feelings when tearing away from her controlling father. It was an unexpected treat; Claire would have been a star in the silent movie era, and Williams shone, her accomplished singing ranging from delicate to raw, with excellent diction and well-conveyed emotions. She is a consummate Wagnerian who is sure to go far. Her share of audience applause at the end was the longest.
The Dutchman, the object of Senta’s obsessions, was company regular, bass-baritone Robert Hayward. His muscular voice with its singular vibrato was perfect for conveying a sense of authority as well as the supernatural, which I remember from his Amfortas in Opera North’s Parsifal. He dominated from “Die Frist ist um”, his opening monologue, through to the end, when he observed the action below steadily while standing on a bar shaped like a ship’s prow in a pub for seamen. He was quite often a raised figure of sinister pathos, including when he was in Senta’s mind in Act 2, his ghostly image projected onto a silvery gauze, part of the box-like set, in which the key component was Joanna Parker's video designs.
Tenor Edgaras Montvidas was impressively sweet and lyrical as both Senta’s rejected fiancé Erik and also, a little confusingly, as the Steersman. Bass Clive Bayley, as Senta’s father Daland, narrowly avoided becoming a comic figure on one or two occasions in the first two acts when he was Wagner’s version of a capitalist bureaucrat, disposing of his daughter in return for what seemed to be something from a Christmas tree. However, he ultimately came across as a rich voiced, serious character (Wagner was not known for his sense of humour).
The Opera North Chorus was excellent, as usual, the female half singing a wonderful Spinning Chorus, handling items of clothing with not a spinning wheel in sight, and the men were electrifying in “Steuermann! Lass die Wacht!” in the final act. Dressed in black, the chorus moved as one animal, with movements which were sometimes fluid, sometimes a collection of jerky robotic movements accompanied by grimaces. They were able to hide rapidly when confronted by the crew of the ghost ship and to shift offstage in seconds when necessary.
The famous overture set the blood racing, the horns calling for complete attention, conjuring up a frightening storm in the great watery abyss in the Grand Theatre, Leeds, just as it did in the 19th century, conductor Garry Walker making sure that the impetus continued to the closing pages of the score.
