In opera, as in so much high-budget entertainment, expectation management is half the battle. With its massive Greek Revival mansion, approached through miles of rolling parkland, The Grange Festival has the grandest setting of any of the summer festivals; and that might have something to do with why the opera served up there has so often felt less than overwhelming. Possibly I’ve been unlucky in my choices at the Grange since it relaunched under the current management in 2017. But many different elements need to fall precisely into place at precisely the right time if an opera is really to catch light, and quite often, under those wide Hampshire skies, that necessary spark has been absent.
Not this time. The Grange Festival’s new production of The Queen of Spades doesn’t just ignite: it erupts. Slowly at first, it’s true: Gary McCann’s sets echo the converted orangery that houses the Grange’s theatre, and the costumes suggest that the whole thing has been updated to the 1950s, which makes no sense at all for a drama set in tsarist Russia. But ‘generic mid-20th century’ is just a reflex for opera designers these days – you screen it out and sink into the drama, which in the hands of director Paul Curran and (crucially) conductor Paul Daniel, accelerates from faintly stilted to utterly thrilling.
That you don’t feel it coming (initially, at least) is in part down to the way Tchaikovsky paces the plot: but whenever he moves up a gear, Curran slams down the pedal. The final scenes are edge-of-the-seat stuff, as the ancient Countess (Josephine Barstow) confronts her violent destiny, Liza (Anush Hovhannisyan) swings from full-blooded longing to piteous despair and the obsessed Herman (Eduard Martynyuk) descends into rasping, snarling madness as the world starts to spin – literally – about him.
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