Rain lashed both the exterior and interior of the Royal Opera House as the latest revival of Tim Albery’s production of Der fliegende Holländer returned just in time for the leap day. Obvious signs of the sinister were confined to bad weather and a ghostly collection of sailors; it's a production that focuses squarely upon very human emotions.
Albery's staging remains as fresh and stimulating as when it debuted in 2009. Michael Levine’s sets are uncluttered; bare, but still impressive in scale. The lips twitch when the sewing desks descend, while an ominous shadow ponderously darkening the stage in Act 1 is sufficient to evoke the fearsome hull of the Dutchman’s ship. Certain anachronisms linger, particularly in the form of ‘park and bark’ delivery, but these are minor quibbles when presented with some compelling Personenregie.
The draw for this revival was Sir Bryn Terfel, for whom the role is now as comfortable as an old sailor’s cap. Terfel’s voice has been waning in sheer beauty for a couple of years now, but this was his finest performance in the title role I have seen. What the voice has lost – principally in its higher register – was more than compensated for by a vivid approach to phrasing and diction that made every word audible and meaningful. Terfel's is a Dutchman who counts his curse in centuries, not decades. The weariness, the fatigue conveyed both in words and in gait permeated his performance in the first act – “Die Frist ist um” a particular highlight – only for him to lighten suddenly as he comes to believe that he might finally have found the love he had been craving. A compelling performance, but one possibly best seen than simply heard.
This revival marks Elisabet Strid’s debut at Covent Garden. Her Senta was theatrically convincing, particularly in Act 3, and she showed strength in the top reaches of her soprano, though the lower register fluctuated in power. Stephen Milling’s bluff Daland made an affable captain: a friend to his crew and a relaxed pater familias who thinks he has chanced upon his pot of gold when he meets the Dutchman. In his Act 1 duet with Terfel, Milling was on good form, showing a lyrical bass and reasonable diction. Difficulties arose in “Mögst du, mein Kind” where Milling was challenged, in what was perhaps a case of first night nerves.
Toby Spence was vocally pushed as Erik, struggling to maintain a balance between tonal beauty and power in what is a fairly unrewarding role. Dramatically, though, he was credible in his depiction of an abandoned lover, emotional to the point of obsessive, a more earthly counterpoint to Senta’s own fixation on a ghostly legend. Mention should also be made of Miles Mykkanen’s Steersman, an earnest albeit hapless youngster somewhat out of his depth. Mykkanen’s elegiac delivery of “Mit Gewitter und Sturm aus fernem Meer”, bright and innocent, was an ideal precursor to Terfel’s flinty bass-baritone minutes later.
The Royal Opera Chorus sang lustily and in the pit Henrik Nánási led a beautiful reading of the score, dramatic at the right moments but with particularly fine woodwinds. Nánási’s interpretation looked forward to Wagner’s later works while seeming to highlight the Italian influences, particularly Bellini. Let us hope that the Dutchman’s ship might dock again at Covent Garden... hopefully in less than seven years!
