Well, here we are, applauding like crazy as a conductor takes the podium at Covent Garden for the first fully staged opera here in 15 months: a thrilling moment.
La clemenza di Tito, Mozart’s final opera, is set in Roman antiquity, so it’s no surprise that the set should sport a pilastered palace. But it is a surprise to see some goal-posts front-of-stage, and some lads kicking a ball about. Director Richard Jones and his designer Ultz like teasing with historical disjunctions, but this one feels uneasy.
The leading lad turns out to be the emperor’s friend Sextus, and in no time he and his fancy woman Vitellia are scrapping like cats on heat, he lovelorn, she enraged and vowing sanguinary revenge because her anticipated grand projet – marrying the emperor – has been foiled by his decision to jilt her.
The plot (plus amorous sub-plot) is a thicket of murderous sexual intrigue centred on an emperor whose great-heartedness induces him to forgive his would-be cuckolders and assassins, rather than feeding them to the wild beasts in the Colosseum. Much of the story is told in anguished speeches and asides which allow Mozart’s mature art to flower in a gorgeous string of arias, duets, and trios.
But the production is problematic, with loose ends galore and moments of naturalism which jar with the prevailing stylisation. It doesn’t matter that the show has evidently been done on the cheap; what does matter is the scattergun way in which images and ideas are sprayed over the stage.
Much of the action takes place in what looks like torture chamber, and the resident army of extras in blue overalls suggests contemporary central-European fascism. The goalposts return to form part of the final tableau, but I won’t describe that, as it’s the evening’s one genuine coup de théâtre.
No, the reason for this evening’s success lies in the vibrancy of the chorus, in conductor Mark Wigglesworth’s mastery of beauty and suspense, and above all in brilliant performances (movement direction by Sarah Fahie) of a bunch of singing actors.
Emily D’Angelo’s Sextus and Angela Brower as Sextus’s friend Annius deliver lovely solo performances, and in duet they evoke the quintessence of ardent young masculinity; Nicole Chevalier’s Vitellia holds the drama together through a kaleidoscope of moods, panting with lust, riven with self-hatred, spitting like a cauldron of rage.
Edgaras Montvidas radiates authority as Titus, and bass Joshua Bloom rules the praetorian guard with thunderous force.
But all this has been mere toe-dipping: four performances, one of which will be streamed this Friday, to test the uncharted economic waters the Royal Opera House now finds itself in. Because nobody is sure how grand opera is going to go on paying for itself, given that social distancing and streaming are going to be part of the equation for a long time to come.
To 23 May, streaming 21 May at stream.roh.org.uk