The programme bills it “Strauss’s MOST DANGEROUS opera”. The company’s website advertises a “20th-century palate cleanser”, which – given the work’s relentless intensity – is presumably a joke, But perhaps they’ve earned it. Strauss’s Salome is the latest venture from Regents Opera, the wildly ambitious fringe company that last year mounted Wagner’s entire Ring cycle in a historic East End boxing venue with an orchestra of only 18 musicians, to against-the-odds critical acclaim.
Back in York Hall, Regents Opera has now mustered a 24-piece ensemble. Seated at the far end of the space from most of the audience and playing a custom arrangement by Nigel Shore, the orchestra sounded somewhat defanged. Despite conductor Ben Woodward’s seemingly boundless energy, there was no possibility of capturing Strauss’s most luxuriant string textures with so few players and the contrast between the score’s vast climaxes and its creepiest, emptiest moments was limited. What emerged instead was an unusual degree of clarity – not to mention a built-in balance aid for the singers, who also benefited from a 20-metre head start on the instrumentalists thanks to the runway-style stage protruding through the audience.
Not that some of the singers needed the boost. Freddie Tong’s Jochanaan, for instance, had a voice on a Wagnerian scale, his hard-edged fury still vivid with his back to the audience. As Narraboth, James Schouten was still more powerful, his tone rich and warm from bottom to top, while his awkward stage presence made a certain amount of dramatic sense. Mae Heydorn’s Herodias was blistering rather than beautiful (her tone darkly covered but unwieldy in its upper reaches), making for a surprisingly effective double-act with Robin Whitehouse’s underpowered Herod – in this production a kind of rubbish white-suited gangster in danger of being upstaged by his own loud shirt. Among the smaller roles, Felix Kemp and Davide Basso stood out.
Ultimately, though, Salome depends on its title role. Kirsty Taylor-Stokes is this production’s finest asset: a singer equal to Strauss’s fiendish vocal writing – her soprano lush, her low notes thrilling and upper register only occasionally shrill – who can also persuasively act the part. Director Mark Ravenhill’s modern-ish production (East End flat caps, 80s shoulder pads, his’n’hers bling for Herod and Herodias) opens with Herod’s birthday party, for which Salome the rebellious teen wears a Guns N’Roses T-shirt. Her Dance of the Seven Veils sees her seize items of clothing from others instead of stripping, Taylor-Stokes moving with the confidence of a trained dancer. Where in the opening scenes Ravenhill made dynamic use of the entire space, by the end the rest of the cast simply stands around, eyes averted from Salome, who is enthralled with Jochanaan’s severed head. Taylor-Stokes’ closing monologue was as compelling – and as disturbing – as it gets.
· At York Hall, Bethnal Green, until 23 April
