Rossini subdued

Glyndebourne began in what is now the traditional manner: high winds and driving rain. This year there was the further discouragement of being kept out of the theatre until 15 minutes after the performance should have begun, which seemed wantonly unprofessional. Then the overture to Rossini’s La Cenerentola began, and we were in whatever kind of paradise it is — a decidedly equivocal one — that Rossini provides. Vladimir Jurowski conducted with sovereign skill throughout, the rhythms gloriously crisp, the actual sounds of the piece often disconcertingly modern, every witty comment from the orchestra pointed but never overstressed. What Jurowski effected in the pit, however, he seemed unable to communicate to the stage, and the end of the overture was the end of most of the pleasure, until the storm in Act II, which often sounds perfunctory but here raged like Beethoven, and with telling stage effects from the director Peter Hall.