Opera
Otello is surely,, the grandest of grand operas. For his last fling at the genre — Falstaff is another matter entirely—Verdi's demands on each of the component parts that go to make up opera are prodigious. The work calls, above all, for a conductor of the highest quality, one' capable of packing all these components to-
gether and securing spontaneous combustion. Certainly on Monday night at Covent Garden Otello went like a bomb, set off by Rafael Kubelik.
It was a good choice for the new Musical Director of the Royal Opera House to begin with, not only because he did it well but also because London has had only two fleeting glimpses of this towering masterpiece since the war.
Monday night was, above all, a triumph for the conductor, a triumph of the order of Kleiber's Rosenkavalier, Wozzeck and Elektra. It was Kleiber who showed us what Covent Garden could do with a good man in charge; but he was only a visitor. Kubelik is here to stay, and right welcome he is if he continues like this. For this Otello was a thoroughly integrated production.
The orchestral playing was first - class; it roared famously (the outburst after 'I took you for that cunning whore of Venice that married Othello' was terrific), cooed amorously and dealt well with all the tricky solos. The balance of sound and the ensemble with the stage was excellent. No expense had been spared; for the arrival of the Venetian Ambassador there were cohorts of off-stage trumpets and for the garden scene a smaller army of mandoline players that looked, so I'm told, like Jack Spot's bodyguard. Like a true artist it was the way in which Kubelik managed to equate a quite passionate attention to every small detail with a constant awareness of the master design of the whole that made the evening so memor- able.
Unfortunately the solo singing was more forgettable, although it was never less than serviceable. Ramon Vinay is undoubtedly an Otello, but the voice and stamina seemed a trifle strained on Monday, although the in- telligence and, particularly, the acting were working overtime. Warmth of tone was lack- ing here and in the voice of Gre Brouwenstijn, the Desdemona; beauty there was in hers, but even this was marred by some flatness of pitch. Otakar Kraus took over from Gobbi the part of lago and brought to it this artist's usual fine musico-dramatic sense. His wobble was well under control, but he had the disadvantage of trying to simulate what Gobbi has from nature: an Italian baritone voice with an edge on it that can sound sinister at the drop of a beretto. Resident members of the company were good in the subsidiary roles and the chorus was fine.
Peter Potter made a distinguished first pro- duction, Wakhevitch's sets were as serviceable as they were imaginative, and his costumes were quite gorgeous. Wakhevitch touchingly paid tribute to another artist by dedicating his designs to the memory of Clement Glock, who was, until her recent tragically early death, the brilliant scene-painter in charge of the paint room at Covent Garden.
JOHN AMIS
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