LONDON - Last night's performance of Prokofiev's "War and Peace" at the
English National Opera presented a veritable case study of everything
that's right and wrong in the Coliseum - a venerable if decrepit hall, an
uncomfortable Titanic whose deck chairs are being rearranged, judging by
the reconstruction of the *entrance*.

What is eminently right at the ENO is taking this huge, demanding
work and producing it (with the Canadian Opera and the Minnesota Opera)
fluently, as well as I have seen it yet, under Tim Albery's direction.
The orchestra, under Paul Daniel's consistent direction, exhibited similar
professionalism, playing well, occasionally in an inspired way, especially
in those exquisite ghostly waltzes, some of Prokofiev's most memorable
music.

Very much in the plus column too is the usual ENO casting of young (mostly
local) talent in combination with established stars, including graduates
of this house.  Thus the young (or youngish) Sandra Zeltzer as Natasha,
Stephanie Marshall as Sonya, John Daszak as Pierre, John Graham-Hall as
Anatole, along with Simon Keenlyside's Andrei, Peter Sidhom's Napoleon, and
such noted veterans as Gwynne Howell (Bolkonsky/General Bennigsen), Ryland
Davies (Host/), Graeme Danby (Rostov/Tikhon) and Willard White as Kutuzov.

These virtues as typical of ENO as are the shortcomings.  There is an
unyielding stubbornness in singing a fundamentally Russian opera (written
by Prokofiev to his own adaptation of Tolstoy's novel) in English, in
mostly incomprehensible diction, and - inexcusably - without projected
supertitles.  This "people's opera" then is offering a great work, in
the people's language, but not to the people's comprehension.  As sung by
Zeltzer, of everything Natasha had to say, I understood three words.  The
chorus - moving and dancing splendidly - was incomprehensible throughout,
partially handicapped by the orchestra's determination to stay on top.

It was fascinating to hear how some, if not all, the great veteran singers
managed diction, unlike their younger colleagues.  For example, Danby,
Davies and Catherine Wyn-Rogers (Natasha's godmother) might have been in
Wigmore Hall, not the acoustic monstrosity of the Coliseum, judging by the
clarity of every word they sang.

Strange are the ways of diction and projection:  if you want to hear a
perfectly supported voice, listen to a baby cry - there are no presentation
problems at birth.  Then come voice teachers, coaches, nasty conductors
and, especially, the triumph of vanity over respect for the work. . .
and then, years later, with work and luck, back to "natural projection."

Another instance of a basically good ENO characteristic going back is
the determination to make everything "new and relevant." Albery, doing an
extraordinary job with the main body of the work, apparently felt compelled
to add "meaning" to the inferior Tolstoy/Prokofiev effort.  Even so, his
attempt to Sellars (an unfortunate new verb) the production was
half-hearted and half-. . .

The sum total of novelties:  1.  A woman with a shopping bag walking in
silence across the stage before the curtain went up, 2.  A projected sign
(aha - so ENO could have projected the text if it only wanted to!) during
the opening chorus that the scene represented the Russian people in 1941,
remembering events of a century-plus before, 3.  The stagehands - doing
great work - were dressed as those in the scene shifted to WWII.

Distracting? Yes.  Helpful, meaningful, clarifying? Hardly.  Primitive
and dumb? Possibly.  Unnecessary? Absolutely.  It brings up the great
mantra for contemporary directors:  do no harm, respect the authors.
To my best recollection, neither Tolstoy nor Prokofiev used a bag lady
to make a point (what point?) - and if that makes me a purist, even a
retro-bourgeois-reactionary one, so be it.  I prefer innovations that make
a difference.

Janos Gereben/SF
(In London)
www.sfcv.org
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