I have a hunch – not backed up by any statistical analysis – that in this country, more people know Louisa May Alcott’s novel Little Women from Greta Gerwig’s 2019 film than have read the book. In the States, the novel has never been out of print since it was published in 1868. There have been many adaptations, for film, TV, the stage, even comic books.
Now, two years late because of Covid, Opera Holland Park (OHP) finally gives the first UK performances of Mark Adamo’s opera based on the novel. Since its premiere in Houston in 1998, it has travelled the world, but by and large opera companies here don’t rush to perform American operas. Kudos to OHP, then.
Ella Marchment’s production is economical yet intricate, sometimes too much so. Our first sight of the novel’s four sisters finds each of them sitting within large picture frames positioned around the stage. In fact, these figures, dressed by designer Madeleine Boyd as our contemporaries, are not the little women of Alcott’s novel but their 21st-century avatars, occasionally called on to address their earlier selves. When the “real” sisters emerge, they look more or less as 19th-century Massachusetts might have expected.
Adamo doesn’t slavishly follow the novel but, like Alcott, he focuses the narrative through Jo, who we sometimes see “writing” the story as a series of flashbacks. Throughout, there’s a strong sense of the women’s intertwining lives and loves but sometimes the details are elusive.
Although the singers’ diction is pretty good, there’s a lot of text (some of it rhyming cleverly) so the surtitles have to work overtime. Yet the vocal writing is approachable, conversational but with passages of forthright lyricism, while the compact orchestra – including a skilfully deployed synthesiser – sits midway between opera house and Broadway. Under Sian Edwards, City of London Sinfonia happily embraces both worlds.
The Holland Park stage has never been intimate, but it now has an “apron” surrounding the orchestra and extending into the auditorium. This allows the action to come closer at certain points, but when it’s not in use, the singers seem distant. Still, the cast is strong. It’s dominated by Charlotte Badham’s Jo, a big sing that Badham tackles with apparently boundless energy. Lucy Schaufer, possibly channelling Meryl Streep (who took the role in Gerwig’s film), attacks the cameo part of Aunt March with well-judged comic exaggeration.
The most resonant singing comes from Benson Wilson as Bhaer, who, as the opera draws to a close, uses some lines from Goethe to offer Jo a few lessons in love and longing. It’s an amusing paradox that his mansplaining aria, with its cod-Schubert cadences, provides one of the opera’s most moving moments.
