Royal Opera House, London; Glyndebourne, East Sussex
A swarm of princesses totter on stage, got up like topiary on legs in every shade of scarlet, crimson, cerise, cochineal, each foolishly imagining Prince Charming must choose her as his red queen. At the last minute, nearly late for the ball, in prance the ugly sisters, round as boiled sweets and twice as sickly, with their spherical, stentorian mother yelling orders with all the power of a bass trombone at full volume. But will the glass slipper fit?
Everyone loves "Cinderella". Massenet's French operatic version of the fairytale, Cendrillon, has arrived at Covent Garden for its Royal Opera House debut in Laurent Pelly's stylish production, first seen in Santa Fe in 2006, and with the star mezzo Joyce DiDonato reprising the title role. She heads a classy cast, with soprano Eglise Gutierrez in the ditsy coloratura role of Fairy Godmother and the mezzo Alice Coote in rapturous, unblemished voice, a stupendous Prince Charming.
Pelly, who is also responsible for the fantasy costumes and the red palette, knows how to present a handsome show. Indeed you could spend much time praising the elegant set, wallpapered in pages of fairybook text, panels opening and shutting as the action demands and all echoing the opera's mood of 18th-century pastiche. Barbara de Limburg's neat designs even have a fold-away balcony. Now there's a space saver. Maybe the imported lighting felt flat and generic, but we are spoilt in Britain by the array of talent in this under-appreciated aspect of stagecraft.
In part this elaborate concentration on the production acts as a decoy for talking about the work itself. Yes, Massenet tells the tale charmingly and makes much of those moments that have fuelled children's make-believe for all time ? the ball, the midnight-hour escape and that magical shoe-fitting episode. The orchestration, rich with harmonium, celeste and harp, and aglow with fluttering woodwind and solo string writing, displays Massenet's hunger for throwing every musical meat, fish and fowl into his recipe, with uneven results. From baroque ornament to Wagnerian swell to Debussy-like detachment, whether parodied or emulated it's all there, played with finesse by the ROH orchestra, elegantly cajoled and tickled into life by the French conductor Bertrand de Billy.
Comic roles are skilfully handled by Massenet and come across well: Polish contralto Ewa Podles mustered grim regal splendour as the stepmother, with Madeleine Pierard and Kai R��tel ? both Jette Parker Young Artists ? lively as the indistinguishably stupid sisters. Jean-Philippe Lafont, the French baritone making his overdue Covent Garden debut as Cinderella's father, was sympathetic, at once tender in his big duet with his daughter and henpecked by his hideous wife.
The prince, who starts out in pyjamas (red, naturally) as an Oblomov-style depressive wedded to his bed, has many ardent outbursts, simple expressions of love. The words "coup de foudre" appear in the text. We see him transformed, at once knocked low and brought to life, when the radiant Cendrillon, alone and virginal in a glittering white gown, appears. Alice Coote is exceptional, a mesmerising stage presence. No gesture is wasted. She's a bit young for a damehood, but let's put her name down early.
As for Joyce DiDonato, this deservedly popular Kansas-born "Yankeediva" exudes intelligence and artistry in every nuance. One regret is that her sense of fun, dazzlingly displayed in her hallmark role of Rosina in Rossini's Il barbiere di Siviglia, has no outlet here. Cendrillon is gentle, serious and love-struck, with some deliciously high, floating lines which had DiDonato at her pianissimo best.
Massenet is shameless in his manoeuvring of the action to create superb vocal set pieces. The Act II dream-cum-tableau could be done away with but for its explosive love duet between the Prince and Cinderella. Described as a "forest scene" but here set amid chimneys and rooftops, you fully expected Dick Van Dyke to burst into "Chim Chim Cher-ee". Unfortunately he doesn't, but DiDonato and Coote are, conceivably, in even better voice. Catch them free in a BP Summer Big Screens relay of the opera on Wednesday.
Critics have to guard against taking themselves too seriously. I speak for myself. Straight after the opening night of Glyndebourne's latest Handel staging ? his 1711 London triumph, Rinaldo, based on Tasso's epic Gerusalemme Liberata ? I stormed home and wrote an outraged piece wondering how the director, Robert Carsen, could have treated the First Crusade, that most desperate of religious bloodbaths, as a schoolroom tiff between adolescents in blazers and Saracens sporting mini-gymslips under their full hijabs. Only their lacrosse sticks, decidedly one of the most lethal weapons in the field of war as anyone ever swiped in the jaw by one will know, seemed authentic.
That was then. In the interim, owing to a computer error (as they say), I lost that draft and had to start again. Strangely, five days on, fury has softened to benign acceptance. Rinaldo is a youthful work, full of cheerful trumpet and drum outbursts, and many special battle effects, as well as some exquisite trilling sopranino recorder work imitating birdsong. Much of the music is self-borrowed, and as a whole cannot match the heights of his greatest efforts ? Giulio Cesare, Semele, Theodora. Better, as with Cendrillon, to accept its considerable pleasures.
Ensemble problems dogged the first night. Conductor Ottavio Dantone, the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment and the vocal soloists nearly came to grief early on. All was settling down by the time Rinaldo (Sonia Prina) sang her affecting "Cara sposa", when a power cut brought proceedings to a rude halt. It had a beneficial effect. Whether nerves were shredded or controlled, matters improved from there on. Highest praise is due to the four continuo players, ever sensuous and vivid.
Gideon Davey's designs were a touch too slick, while the action was not yet slick enough. But there was wit and fun, and warm laughter and applause from the audience. The excellent baritone Luca Pisaroni, a dominating presence as Argante, stood out from a decent rather than thrilling young cast. Anett Fritsch (Almirena) achieved unadorned intensity in "Lascia ch'io pianga" and Brenda Rae showed fire-breathing flair as the sorceress Armida. This is the time of year for school reports. Robert Carsen's might say: a little too clever by half. But this production is full of potential. With that brilliant Handelian Laurence Cummings conducting the Glyndebourne on Tour revival from October, it will grow into glory: book now.
As with others this season, Carsen succumbed to the current opera fad of showing how many members of the cast have achieved cycling proficiency. At Garsington, Papageno demonstrated that skill in The Magic Flute. Here, the boy-Crusaders climbed into their saddles and wobbled off to war on two wheels. I blame the Boris effect. Is there a brown-envelope handout for productions featuring bikes? When that other great tsar of the people, Boris Godunov, cycles in from the wings, we'll know for sure.
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