An Opera in English (and one in French)

There's no way around it. Opera in English does not sound nearly as good as Opera in French, Italian, Russian, German, Spanish, or pretty much any other language.

Albert Herring, courtesy Planet Hugill, photo: Chris Christoudoulou

It's definitely Opera, but it takes some time to sink into it, to recognise it as a genuine Opera. Perhaps part of the problem is that you actually know what they're saying - or, at least, you know you should know what they're saying. Sometimes you can't, especially if you're me and have trouble understanding what people say in the first place (ooh, look at that hawk flying through the Black Forests deep in the recesses of my mind - sorry, what?) and then they start singing in a particularly high pitch that isn't always flattering to the English language.

I went to two Operas in a row, so now I am an expert.

On the Tuesday night I went to Albert Herring, one of Britten's Britain pieces, and executed rather nicely by students of the Royal College of Music. On Wednesday we went to Lakme as part of the Opera season at Holland Park, with perhaps more widely known performers, and sat beneath a large marque while the peacocks added their own drama to some of the scenes.

Lakme, courtesy this review. Photo: Robert Workman

Both have recognisable story lines. Lakme is the tale of an English man who falls in love with an Indian princess (of the rebel Indians), told by the French and portraying the English as obsessed with the honour of being a solider and slightly bewildered and brainwashed by the noisy charms of India. It is a star-crossed lovers story. Herring is the tale of the loss of innocence / awakening of a shy young man, after he is crowned May King (all the girls in the village are too skanky; Albert is the only one exhibiting the virtue necessary for the role of May Queen). Tales we all know well, with different variations.

One thing I enjoy about Operas - or ballets, or any other similar performances that are difficult to watch on the telly but can be magical to watch in person - is the staging, set and costume. Herrings' was spectacular. In the centre of the stage was a city hall room, which turned for changes of set or movements in the story, exposing a wall, and then the other side of the set which was the shop in which our innocent, mummy's-boy Albert worked. All the colours were bright, perfectly setting the tone for a friendly, fun and comic opera. The set was used to fantastic effect, especially in the final acts when Albert has been crowned at an official ceremony and things become a little wonky (picture a drunken Vicar sneaking behind the curtains with his school teacher finance, moving out of shot while a leather-jacketed bad-boy type skulks his way past the hall, through the street, and stops by at the grocers - now perfectly center stage).

Dude, so glad he's not my dad. (Telegraph) Photo: Robert Workman

Lakme also had a beautiful set, though more spare and sober as befitted its more sombre tale. It was gorgeous shades of blue and grey and green, pale golden-browns, white for the English. It was smooth and clean, with an Oriental centrepiece that opened flower-like to reveal Lakme and other characters. It began with two long lengths of blue stretched smooth from the highest peaks of the petals. The costumes were likewise beautiful, in that same subtle and effective way. It complimented and set the tone.

I found the Britten much easier to follow, and not so much because of the language (like I said, Sopranos in English...) but because - I think - of the acting. I was further from the stage in the Delibes, but I still don't know what happened at the end - did that Pom stab her dead lover's Dad, or did they embrace? Was he just melodramatically distressed about everything, or did he have a terrible case of nits? I also still struggle with the story lines of some of these operas, or old stories, where romantic attachments are crammed into a small period of time - to enhance the drama and intensity of the love perhaps, but for me, in this production at least, actions did not make sense. Put a piece of soap in front of that opera and sing it.

But the singing - that was fantastic. The flower duet at the beginning, which is a very famous piece of music, was wonderful to listen to. It was better than this I give you here. There were some truly skilled and beautiful voices involved. And there was also a dancer who deserves note, winding and weaving her way around the stage in the performance of a goddess, standing en pointe perfectly, reaching for the sky.

Spot the vicar! (Planet Huggill) photo Chris Christoudoulou

In Herring the plot was clear (well, once I got used to listening to Opera in English) and it was funny. What made it funny, though, was the acting. Interactions between the characters, facial expressions at just the right time, made it hilarious. A ridiculous story like this can easily flop or be overdone, and this was cooked just right, and injected with just the right amount of sauciness. I particularly liked the singers who played Sid and Nancy, full of innuendo, Lady Billows and her bustling housekeeper Florence Pike, and the do-right Vicar with his curtain exit. All excellent voices. The whole show, though, was excellent and I found myself "LOLing," as you youngin's call it, at least eight and a half times. I enjoyed this performance very much.

The vicar, Kieran Rayner, is also one of my good friends, but it didn't colour my perception. Every time I see him sing I judge him as harshly as I am able to judge (I am good at judging harshly) and he always comes out all right. Fantastic baritone. Excellent actor.

Shame about the English.