Ludovico Ariosto’s long narrative poem Orlando furioso, from the early 16th century, proved to be highly influential not only as a masterpiece within the domain of literature, but also as a regular source for countless operas down to at least the 19th century. Some of its episodes were treated quite faithfully in operatic adaptations, but by the time of the later 18th century, when opera buffa was in its heyday, the poem’s outline was used more loosely as a general frame on which the conventions of that genre could be hung.
So it was with Gazzaniga’s L’isola d’Alcina (1771) which adapts the idea of Alcina’s realm as a remote tropical island where four European adventurers (later joined by a fifth, a German) are washed up when their boat founders (bringing to mind, presumably coincidentally, another prominent literary work, Robinson Crusoe). As with various operas at that time, this becomes a sort of comedy of manners, in which different national characteristics are satirised – the Europeans introduced in Giovanni Bertati’s libretto don’t appear in Ariosto, but are made up to fit that pattern, figures of fun rather than heroic knights who hail from England, France, Spain, and Italy. The names of Alcina’s two attendants also don’t feature in the original poem, and their characters have more to do with the stock figures of the sassy female servant of opera buffa. Gilly French transmutes the wit into a modern context from the perspective of an English translation in his version of the text as Alcina’s Island.
Jeremy Gray’s lively production turns Alcina’s ream of enchantments into a modern Love Island, though a rather less crude one than the knocking shop for musclebound simpletons that is ITV’s meretricious reality show. The Eurovision Song Contest gets a look-in at the end of Act Two when the characters are called upon to sing in their various national styles to revive La Rose after he has passed out through drinking too much from Alcina’s fountain of forgetfulness (here a colourful cocktail) and they are awarded points. (The Englishman James is not called upon to contribute, and so is spared the embarrassment of receiving nul points.) Alcina wins for the song she delivers in a Venetian dialect (Gazzaniga’s opera was composed for Venice’s San Moisè theatre). Ariosto’s work is called to mind by James’s reading the book as the Europeans reach the island from the sea and recall the story of the age-old sorceress, whose lovers are quickly despatched and turned into rocks, animals, or vegetation; Orlando, Ruggiero, and Astolfo (familiar from Handel’s famous Alcina) appear as ossified four-legged beasts. Alarmed, the new arrivals swear an oath on that book not to fall for Alcina’s wiles, but they start to renege as they become captivated by her, and she sparks off their jealousies by playing them off against each other.
Inna Husieva leads with a finely spun vocal line in the title role, delicate at first but settling into more extrovert allure. The initial quartet of Europeans – later joined by Baron Brikbrak – form a cohesive group in several ensembles during the opera – one near the beginning seems to anticipate Mozart’s ‘Soave sia il vento’ of nearly twenty years later with its rustling strings, as they yield to the sweet fragrances and air of the island. Jonathan Eyers stands out as the charismatic Spaniard Don Lopes, finding his way idiomatically around the music in character with an accent. Replacing Simon Brown at fairly short notice as the Frenchman La Rose, Dafydd Allen achieves a lively roguishness. Not having to feign an accent, Magnus Walker evinces some sustained, quiet lyricism as the more emotionally reserved Englishman, while Monwabisi Lindi doesn’t really affect Brunoro’s Italian personality, but he does sing with charm. Owain Rowlands flusters effusively as the German baron who appears later and is able to bring about the others’ escape.
Charlotte Badham and Sarah Chae are a well contrasting pair, the former more guarded and prim, the latter more vivacious with a sparkling swing in her arias. They each fall in love with one of the Europeans and devise a plan to flee Alcina’s clutches, with the aid of Brikbrak who leans not to fall prey to the sorceress.
Thomas Blunt and the Orchestra of Bampton Classical Opera give buoyant support to the buffoonery of the opera, rhythmically poised and chirpy, but without upstaging the singers. The light touch of the harpsichord (performer uncredited) helps, and oboes and horns add vim to the stalwart presence of the strings. They all bring extra fire to the final scene as Alcina threatens to call down revenge upon the fugitives, with dragons and monsters enlisted to attack, in an intriguingly inconclusive ending to the opera which, like the tendency of each episode in Ariosto’s to bifurcate in further narrative layers, feels like it ought to have been the springboard for an operatic sequel. Nonetheless there is plenty of humour, dramatic incident, and musical inventiveness in the opera we have here. This is the second time since last autumn that audiences in the Southeast have had the chance to assess Gazzaniga’s legacy, following the Royal College of Music’s production of Don Giovanni Tenorio (which Bampton has also mounted in the past). Although relatively less well known, Alcina’s Island strikes me as the musically more substantial opera.
Further performances on 26 August (Westonbirt), 31 August (Wadhurst) & 13 September (Smith Square Hall, London)
The post Bampton Classical Opera – Gazzaniga’s Alcina’s Island appeared first on The Classical Source.
