The joy of fantasy is that it can mean so many things to so many people. In Offenbach’s The Tales of Hoffmann, a drunken poet tells the stories of three loves of his life. Are the three women distinct characters, different sides of a single woman, or his imaginary ideal of the eternal feminine?
Step forward Damiano Michieletto, director of the Royal Opera’s new production. He has delivered a tour de force, mustering a huge cast, including multiple troupes of dancers, to conjure a fairytale vision with too many ideas rather than too few, but certainly never boring.
Other fantasy stories are referenced. Like Lewis Carroll’s Alice, this Hoffmann undergoes a rite of passage, as a schoolboy in the first tale, a young man in the second, and a poet of international renown in the third. As in Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials, his Muse has acquired a daemon, in this case (not very convincingly) a stuffed parrot.
It is only a shame that Michieletto does not always tell a clear story. The prologue, where Hoffmann is drinking in the tavern, works best if it establishes an air of normality before we enter the heightened world of his drunken imagination. But Michieletto is having such fun filling the stage with pirouetting sylphs and predatory demons that it is confusing to work out what is going on. Half the distracting dancing could be cut throughout.
Once into the phantasmagorical sphere of Hoffmann’s tales, there is no looking back. Olympia’s story takes place in a raucous schoolroom where the blackboard magically fills with mathematical equations. The dusty boudoir where Antonia usually languishes becomes a ballet rehearsal room alive with vitality and humour. Moments such as Hoffmann’s loss of his shadow are brilliantly carried off, and there is a last-minute coup de théâtre when his ultimate love, Stella, reappears (no spoilers).
Into these paranormal realms of the mind steps Juan Diego Flórez, a class act as Hoffmann. Flórez sings outstandingly well, giving Offenbach’s music a lightness of touch with exquisite detailing and clear words, and makes a decent fist of ageing from schoolboy in short trousers to old, bewhiskered sot.
As the mechanical doll Olympia, Olga Pudova dazzles with pinpoint coloratura, throwing in what could be the highest notes ever heard in the Royal Opera House. Ermonela Jaho makes a deeply affecting Antonia, wringing out sympathy as a frail young woman in a wheelchair, and her duet with Flórez, where they join in singing of the most refined tenderness, was a high point of the evening. The role of Giulietta is less interesting, but Marina Costa-Jackson gives it charisma and plenty of voice, if not vocal beauty.
By contrast, the multiple roles of Hoffmann’s devilish nemesis are rolled into one by bass-baritone Alex Esposito. His strength of voice makes him imposing in them all, and Michieletto helps with a hellish dusting of black magic over his every appearance.
Christine Rice and Julie Boulianne split the double role of Muse/Nicklausse, the latter rich-voiced, though it would be nice to hear more words. Alastair Miles is touching as Antonia’s suffering father, Crespel. Christophe Mortagne brings French style to the comic tenor roles and even raises a laugh in Frantz’s weakly unfunny couplets thanks to Michieletto’s interpolation of a badly-behaved young troupe of ballerinas.
Antonello Manacorda conducts with big opera-house weight, where some others have recreated a more sparkling, operetta-like style. The Royal Opera uses the sung recitatives rather than spoken dialogue, which is probably inevitable in an international house, but it does slow the opera down. We do not get the bass-baritone aria “Scintille, diamant”, but the Muse/Nicklausse is restored as a major role. The final chorus, with all the characters reunited on stage, is a grand conclusion, although an alternate ending, which shows a lonely Hoffmann left on stage asleep, would make a stronger theatrical impact.
One thing is certain: at nearly four hours, with some fine singing, a huge cast, dancers by the armful, and oodles of magical entertainment, this is a virtuoso production that gives the audience their money’s worth.
★★★★☆
To December 1, rbo.org.uk
