Among the Buxton Festival Fringe shows playing last weekend in the room above The Old Clubhouse, a stone’s throw from the Opera House, was Impromptu Shakespeare, an uproarious improv show in which, on the afternoon I was there, a farce in iambic pentameter was conjured up from the prompts “a promise”, “caves” and “celebration”. It’s tempting, if unfair, to suggest that a Mozartian response to the same brief might have resulted in Il re pastore, in which promises, caves and celebration – along with Alexander the Great – all play a role. But even Mozart’s lesser achievements are more distinguished than most, and this rather slight opera, set by the composer at the age of 19 to a Metastasio libretto which was older than he was, does have its charms.
For Jack Furness, director of Buxton International Festival’s new production, that charm seems to lie primarily in the opera’s pastoral setting: all of its scenes take place in the open air, from the hills where eponymous shepherd Aminta keeps his flock, to Alexander’s army camp and the aforementioned cave, where Aminta goes to ponder the discovery that he is in fact Abdolonimo, the rightful king of Sidon. Furness has brought the outdoors inside by filming various countryside views – rippling streams, sun-dappled trees, sheep grazing on a hillside – in the Peak District and Brecon Beacons, and projecting these on a series of tall video screens which dominate, and are blurrily reflected by, a shiny and otherwise empty black stage. If not quite as transfixing and meditative as Furness’ programme note seems to hope, it’s nevertheless a far more effective evocation of nature than any plywood trees or astroturf would have been, its carefully-observed realism winningly offset by the pure Arcadia of Hannah Wolfe’s costumes.
The score is standard florid opera seria fare for the most part, albeit with hints of the greater things to come: Aminta’s “L'amerò, sarò costante”, probably the opera’s best known aria, stands out as a moment of exquisite poise and sensitivity, but elsewhere the endless da capos are occasionally hard to distinguish from one another. Still, there was plenty of verve supplied by Buxton’s quintet of young singers. Tenor Joseph Doody was a pleasingly cartoonish Alexander the Great – brilliant at conquering empires, less talented at human relationships – with a hint of steel in the voice, while George Curnow was softer-grained as Agenore, singing with plenty of elegance if a slight paucity of colour. As Tamiri, Olivia Carrell possibly overplayed the banished princess’ histrionics a touch, but her silvery soprano fit the music like a glove, while Katie Coventry brought richness of tone and boyish charisma to the title role. It was soprano Ellie Neate, as the shepherdess (and Aminta’s beloved) Elisa who made the strongest impression, however, wringing every drop of expression out of recitative and aria alike and radiating a Susanna-esque mix of ebullience and self-assuredness.
At less than two hours in length, Il re pastore has little time for complications, either political or amorous. So misunderstandings are swiftly cleared up, quarrels quelled and everyone ends up with the kingdom and the lover they deserve. Furness’ production rightly treats it with lightness of touch (though school-disco choreography in the finale is arguably a step too far) and so too did the Northern Chamber Orchestra, conducted by Adrian Kelly, playing with precision and sprightly tone throughout, even if balance in Buxton’s jewel box theatre did occasionally skew too far in favour of the singers.
Would Il re pastore garner as much attention if its composer hadn’t gone on to write Don Giovanni, Le nozze di Figaro and Die Zauberflöte? Perhaps not. But as it happens, he did; and for both its place in his musical development and its suitability as a showcase for emerging singers – who no doubt will go on to those greater works before long – it’s certainly worth revisiting from time to time.
