Rusalka
Glyndebourne
L’Amour de loin
ENO
The new production of Dvorak’s Rusalka at Glyndebourne is an unmitigated triumph, a perfect demonstration of all the elements in opera fusing to create a bewitching experience. Any qualifications can only be about the piece itself, not about any of the performers or the direction. I had some anxiety about Melly Still as director when I read that this was her first essay in operatic production, since that is usually a warning that the quite extraordinary difficulties of the genre are going to be overlooked, with results as dire as recent Bayreuth Ring cycles or ENO’s Carmen. By refreshing contrast, Still has clearly made a deep study of this problematic piece, and submitted herself to its allure and its awkwardness, without imposing an interpretation, as David Pountney did to brilliant effect at ENO in 1983. That psychoanalytic slant on Rusalka was a landmark in seeing how much it has to offer, but it was fascinating and thought-provoking rather than moving. Still’s much less obtrusive account of the opera, which makes it easier to grasp, thanks to the ideal cast she has to work with, makes it a more general study of transgressive desire, but without a layer of conceptualisation before you get to the heart of the drama.
The first thing that strikes you is how beautiful the whole thing is. Rae Smith’s sets for the outer acts could serve very well for an unfashionably appealing Act II of Siegfried, to which Dvorak’s score is so indebted, to its advantage. The water nymphs descend from the flies, joyously waving their extremely long tails. Rusalka, the radiant and in all ways adorable Ana Maria Martinez, sings her Song to the Moon as a heartfelt plea, not at all as a show-stopper.
Comments
Join the debate for just £1 a month
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for £3.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just £1 a monthAlready a subscriber? Log in