Psychiatrists have identified a mental state called “opera-hallucinosis”, an unpleasant malfunction for the sufferer (only one so far). Yet when opera works, collective hallucination is often the result. At its best, the work of director David Alden can precipitate just such a state.
In recent years, though, he has relied too heavily on tried and tested gestures that we might call Aldenisms, plenty of which adorn his new production of Tchaikovsky’s The Queen of Spades.
The opera’s protagonist is Hermann, a soldier suffering two fatal addictions: to love and to gambling. Unsurprisingly, the cards win out. In a final gesture of hopelessness, Hermann kills himself, but not before his obsessions have led to the deaths of Lisa, the woman he thinks he loves, and her guardian, the ageing Countess.
Alden embellishes the narrative with all sorts of paraphernalia, sometimes entertaining, sometimes enlightening, sometimes simply gratuitous. The opera survives, thanks in no small part to strong vocal performances. The straining edge in Peter Hoare’s voice suits Hermann’s unbalanced state, and while Giselle Allen’s voice isn’t always beautiful, it has real fervour. The best comes from Felicity Palmer, who makes the Countess mesmerising, eerie and touching in equal measure. Edward Gardner, conducting his last production as English National Opera’s music director, keeps things at fever pitch, exactly where they need to be.
Until July 2; eno.org
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