For the opening event at this year’s Grimeborn Festival, Green Opera have devised a typically inventive programme comprising Monteverdi’s Il combattimento di Tancredi e Clorinda, Janáček’s The Diary of One Who Disappeared, and the theatrical premiere of Libby Larsen’s Try Me, Good King.
Even after reading the programme I was not entirely clear what held this selection together, but never mind – these works all deserve to be heard more often and they are all examples of quality storytelling in music that are naturally suitable to the scale of a chamber performance. A sombre tone was set by Dowland’s In Darkness Let me Dwell, which introduced the Monteverdi, a scena for three voices that depicts a duel between two lovers who do not recognise each other in the armour they are wearing. A narrator graphically describes the intensity of battle, emphatically underscored by the orchestral effects, here provided by violin, cello and keyboard. This is perhaps what lingers most in the memory – these are remarkably dramatic devices for 1624. Hats off again to Monteverdi!
As throughout the evening, the minimalist staging enhanced our imaginative experience – the staircase gave real transcendance to the ending as Clorinda takes her place in Heaven after death. All three singers – Shafali Jalota, Emily Hodkinson and Brenton Spiteri – sang with appropriate period style and acted the roles with conviction, though, as at other times in the evening, sometimes their full sound was just a little too much for the confined space of Studio 1.
After a brief linking madrigal by Weelkes, we moved into Larsen’s song cycle devoted to the words and fates of the first five wives of Henry VIII. These were admirably characterised by Katherine McIndoe, accompanied at the piano by Alex Raineri. The first point to praise here was the choice of texts, all derived from the actual words, whether in letters, legal depositions, or scaffold statements, of the queens themselves. This brought immediacy and poignancy that the music enhanced rather than fought against. McIndoe found many shades of personality and even humour with which to project the texts, and the piano underscore gave just the right level of support without overwhelming singer or words. Director Tobias Millard ensured that there was movement and visual interest throughout. My only regret is that Katherine Parr was not included – there was no natural musical ending either to compensate for the intellectual decision to omit her. However, this performance made a very powerful case for the piece: I immediately wanted to hear this song cycle again, and especially staged rather than in a concert setting.
The evening concluded with the lush settings by Janáček of a young farmer’s romantic travails as he is torn between duty to run his parents’ farm and the appeal of the gypsy girl he has met in the forest. Brenton Spiteri handled this demanding role with huge energy and passion, making us feel his dilemma powerfully. McIndoe returned to suggest the gentle charm and attraction of Zefka, the free spirit he has met in the woods, and other cast members provided the chorus that helps to emphasise the shifting moods. There are some wonderful evocations of nature here, and in some ways it represents a different take on the themes the composer addresses in The Cunning Little Vixen – as if the Forester in fact had made the opposite set of choices. Raineri had a chunky task on his hand with the huge, thickly textured piano part which is trying as hard as it can to become an orchestra. Overall this was an impressive account, with effective staging that did not hamper the singers’ delivery.
In sum, this was a quirky evening, but one that contained memorable aspects in each of its parts.