In the one corner, Elizabeth I – the doyenne of British monarchs. In the other, Mary Stuart – Queen of Scots, the shadow that plagued Elizabeth most of all. At the centre of this opera – an imagined meeting between the two, which begins in frosty politeness before exploding into poker-wielding, name-calling soprano pyrotechnics. It is a great shame that the rest of the music is less inspiring, falling at the least provocation into four-square oom-pa-pa-pa ditties which fail at expressing anything much of note. The second act of this production, despite the presence of two – TWO – deaths succeeds in being incredibly boring, culminating in a twenty-minute paean to Mary’s status as a noble Catholic martyr which, despite being beautifully sung by Judith Howarth (in the title role) and WNO’s ever-fantastic chorus, succeeds in perplexing the audience member given that in the first act Mary seems to spend most of her time attempting to manipulate and/or seduce Leicester (sung by Bruce Sledge) before calling the queen a ‘bastard whore’.
Rudolf Frey’s direction is quite poor – even in Donizetti’s typically ecstatic love duets, the singers essentially stand at opposite ends of the stage doing Expressive Opera Hands before crossing and doing the same thing to the other half of the audience. WNO’s chorus are now well-practised in standing around looking political. For some reason Lord Cecil begins the second act draped over the edge of a ditch in Elizabeth’s apartment – her wonderfully unconvincing slap in the first act is also worthy of mention.
The costumes are mostly quite ugly, Elizabeth’s in particular. Starting the action she sports a singularly hideous binbag-dress before getting kitted up in the sartorial love-child of a hearth brush and an IKEA chandelier. Mary, of course, starts in a kilt, is given the black shiny plastic treatment, and in the final scene removes her coat to reveal a copper breastplate replete with Stephen-Fry-Blackadder-II-style shiny nipples.
All in all, it’s a wonder that any of the cast can muster the conviction and energy to even try. Thankfully they do, and the result does not disappoint. Howarth excels, with a shining tone and a phenomenal top register. Adina Netescu, as Elizabeth, is a little harsh at times but is otherwise very much on top of Donizetti’s score. The male leads sing beautifully and generally characterise well – Alastair Miles as Talbot fits and plays the ‘stiff courtier’ with an appreciable naturalness. Sledge is occasionally a little too puritan for the ‘ardent lover’, but then, what can you do when the music isn’t very good and all the scene changes take seven minutes?
The orchestra, as usual, sound fantastic, and Graeme Jenkins’ conducting manages to keep the stage and the pit in the same place, most of the time.
