At the heart of the jewel

There is no doubting that we have had a wonderful week at Opera Holland Park. Three fantastic shows - one of them a world premiere - gems have been unearthed, stars have been born, the weather has held (until last night, but even then it seemed appropriately tempestuous) and a round of reviews that we would be shy to write ourselves have been emblazoned across the media. It could have been so different. It can always be so different.

But that is the gamble we take and believe me, whilst it might not seem like much of a flutter now as the plaudits flood in, making a decision to produce something like I gioielli della Madonna certainly feels like one at the time. So much can go wrong and it is credit, of course, to James that it has been so brilliantly produced. Think of all the elements that go into creating any opera, let alone one this big and unknown, and you will realise that even the smallest decisions can have a profound effect on the outcome. 

What is pleasing of course, is that the vast majority of critics and public have found the work to be of great substance. Not all though; one or two colleagues I have discussed it with have actually declared it variously "weird", "mental" and "shit" but all, to a man and woman, have been completely engrossed in it. Indeed, a bit of me thinks that Rupert Christiansen's Telegraph review, in which he declared that he thinks the music "dreadful" but nevertheless gave the show an unmitigated rave, is our greatest achievement! About the music he is as wrong as it is possible to be as far as I am concerned but I admire his submission to the visceral impact of the show, and for having the honesty to write so well of it.

The reactions of the audience are, as ever, the most rewarding; these are people who take the opportunity to hear something new, perhaps against their instinct, and come away richly rewarded.  At OHP we have had a long list of such events over the past 17 years but it never fails to please. Yes, we have faith in the rarer operas we present, yes we believe in and understand their potential effect once on stage. But we would be stupid to assume their magic can work unaided because it matters deeply how they are constructed, put together and peopled. They don't produce themselves and I Gioielli has been the toughest of them all.  It really has taken blood, sweat and tears and our applause for those at the heart of the endeavour should be as mighty as the Act 1 closing chorus.

From the sublime to the sensational

It has been a week of stunning contrasts,  staggering music and pretty heroic endeavour from all concerned.  Any season demands a great deal from everybody at OHP; having now closed three operas we open another triumvirate of them but they are beyond "normal" by any real standard. With the glorious weather came the first of the three in L'elisir d'amore, with a dress rehearsal on Friday that was fizzing with humour and glamour. But that wasn't before a sitzprobe at Cadogan Hall on Thursday, followed by a full studio run the next morning, of I gioielli della Madonna, two events that felt like the first culmination of a long, hard road. And today, with Alice's Adventures in Wonderland tech rehearsing on the yucca lawn, the mighty forces of the gioielli orchestra assembled for the second sitzprobe, the oppressive heat not dulling their instincts. 

On Friday, at the run through, I had been poleaxed by the visceral nature of the production, the invention of the music, the talent of our principal cast. I shed a small tear when that exceptional artist Diana Montague sang her Act 1 duet with her stage son, Joel Montero; artistry, experience and a beautiful piece combined to simply hang my guts from the ceiling. And then there are the choruses, the deeply anxious music of Act 3, the deaths and the pain. I have decided, quite simply, that gioielli is no longer about whether people "like" it or not (although the music is glorious) but is more about the impact it will have on audiences; you simply will never forget it. It is tempting to go one by one through the cast and praise them but I will resist and say nothing, save for a reassurance that they are committed to their very cores to this production.

If gioielli represents the pinnacle of full-throated angst and turmoil writ large, then L'elisir is the balm we need. From a morning with Wolf-Ferrari's relentless tragedy to an evening of Donizetti's delicious optimism felt like an impossible chasm to leap. Yet the contrast only served to demonstrate the wondrous variety of this art form we love.

It has been a hell of a few days that threw a bit of new light onto why we put ourselves through it. The next week, with three openings, is going to be emotional, nerve-wracking and exciting. By now we are running on fumes, dragging ourselves over the finish line, our families relegated to snatched mornings over breakfast, but we seek our satisfaction vicariously, through our audience, and if their reaction is half as powerful as mine has been to the past few days, the rewards are glittering indeed..