by Part chocolate factory, part Psyche the house of horror, the witch’s hiding place in the Royal Opera’s Hansel and Gretel oozes grisly allure. The initial stages of ganache can be done by dripping a window with blood. Humperdinck’s fairy tale musical is thought to be a children’s favorite, the first stage in the musical. This 2018 ROH stage revival, by director-designer Antony McDonald, runs throughout the school holidays. In the tradition of European fairy tales, the underlying themes are dark: poverty, drunkenness, child abuse. Humperdinck’s 1893 version – with a libretto by his sister, Adelheid Wette, based on the Grimm brothers – adds horror with the addition of an angelic, kind Sandman and forced Dew Fairy, creating a more noble and God-loving romance .
These polarities are a dilemma for any director. Some of them raise the grim and sinister elements – more fun for adults – but find the work in addition to the expected weight. McDonald stayed true to the spirit of the original, with designs painted straight out of a pop-up book. Inside a secluded wooden castle, Hansel and Gretel (Anna Stéphany and Anna Devin) argue with their desperate mother (Susan Bickley), whose worst punishment is picking strawberries. In the forest, the lost children meet Disney characters and discover cute animals. The Witch (Rosie Aldridge), who doesn’t appear until Act 3, hits her in a chocolate furnace instead of a roaring furnace.
La Nativité du Seigneur was heard, roared and whispered around the large spaces of Saint John Smith Square
The work’s enduring power lies in Humperdinck’s score, which the ROH orchestra triumphantly performed under the astute baton of director Mark Wigglesworth. Bursting with brass corales, soaring tops and delicate instrumental solos, it has the character of Wagner without angst. (Humperdinck was under the spell of the composer, whom he helped Bayreuth on Parsifal.) Sung in workable English, with a cast of characters, the staging has presence and surprise. But is it too slow or too slow for a modern child? I checked the sight of my cool friend Matthew, 10 years old. It was his first musical, a birthday song. He loved every minute, especially the children dancing on the table and the witch’s cauldron falling out at the end. Let Mattie be your guide.
At the Wigmore Hall, it was led by conductor-violinist Adrian Butterfield Handel’s London Players in works for Advent and Christmas written by JS Bach, from 1715 to the 1740s. Five excellent singers – sopranos Hilary Cronin and Jessica Cale, colleague Hugh Cutting, tenor Charles Daniels and bass Jerome Knox – moved effortlessly between solos, duets and ambitious choruses. From Süsser Trost brón, mein Jesus kommt, BWV 151, a lullaby-like plea for comfort with flute obbligato (Rachel Brown), to Gloria exultant in excelsis Deo, BWV 191, the first half of the program was rich in itself.
Then came the Magnificat in D, BWV 243, complete with the four interpolations for Christmas Day (a butterfield combining elements of the two versions written by Bach; the work has a complex background). It is impossible to imagine what the public in Leipzig felt when this highly praised song was first heard. Explosive from the start, rampant in his word painting, bristling with cryptograms, codes and harmonic symmetry, racing from low to high, high to low, the whole work is a summation of joy. It is breathtaking, as is the tender alto-tenor duet, beautifully sung by the young Forleithne Gearhardh and the rock seasoned Daniels. Violins, violas and flutes spin a soft undulating web around them. This ends with the beat of trumpets and drums, singers and players projecting for dear life, with joy that spreads to the delighted audience.
The baroque church of St. John Smith’s Square (1728) was built in the exact period that Bach was writing his weekly cantatas in Leipzig. His Christmas Oratorio is an annual highlight of the SJSS Christmas season, but another great work, partly inspired by Bach, as well as Indian ragas, was heard, roared and whispered around its great spaces last week. Messiaen on La Nativité du Seigneur (1936), one of the great organ works of the 20th century, played here by Roger Sayer, consists of nine meditations on the birth of Jesus. In one episode, the shepherds’ pipes are heard, according to the composer, under a starry canopy of blue-violet, red, gold and silver. There is no summary of the work’s religious, symbolic and compositional principles, along with its stained glass color scheme. I will adhere to Messiaen’s own view: that the enormous technical complexities allow “the heart to overflow freely”. He did it here.
Star ratings (out of five)
Hansel and Gretel ★★★★
Handel’s London Players ★★★★★
La Nativité du Seigneur ★★★★
