The further you get from infancy, the more chilling any story about missing children becomes. Think Boko Haram. Think Gaza. Think Ukraine. In childhood you may thrill to the murky tale of the Pied Piper of Hamelin, or of Hansel and Gretel. George Benjamin and his librettist, Martin Crimp, distilled the rat-catcher legend in their decidedly adult first opera, Into the Little Hill (2006). Engelbert Humperdinck’s operatic version of the children lost in the woods – on at the Royal Academy of Music in London next week and the Royal Opera House next month – has become a seasonal favourite, sweetened by a short-lived witch and gingerbread children. For The Monster in the Maze, Jonathan Dove (and his regular librettist, Alasdair Middleton) went further back: to ancient Greek myth, tyrannical King Minos of Crete, and the Minotaur who lives in a labyrinth and feeds on young human flesh.
Premiered in Berlin in 2015 by Simon Rattle and the Berlin Philharmonic, with follow-up performances in London and Aix-en-Provence, this opera “for children, young people and adults” was a centrepiece of Sheffield’s Music in the Round celebrations last weekend. For 40 years, this wide-ranging concert series, based at the Crucible theatre, has served the city, presenting musical events for all ages, with partnerships around the country, top soloists and a resident instrumental group, Ensemble 360.
This was the first performance of Monster in a new arrangement by Dove and music director John Lyon. Upper strings, absent in the original, have been added, enabling students of Sheffield Music Hub to play alongside the professional members of 360 and the Consone Quartet. Three singers – Anthony Flaum, Camille Maalawy, Robert Gildon – and an actor (Paul Hawkyard) took the named roles, with community choruses grouped either side of the central arena or on the stage itself, carrying the story and belting out Dove’s persuasive melodies and intricate cross rhythms.
No one matches the composer in his gift for creating a powerful drama – here involving 140 people, primary school age to retired – with epic sweep and affecting human drama. Parents sing of the loss of their children, rounded up and shipped off to satisfy the Minotaur’s appetite. Tiny children lament the disappearance of their older siblings. Several young singers had short solos. Crisply orchestrated, with vivid use of percussion – glockenspiel, tubular bells, threatening bass drum – the work romps along, holding back the arrival of the monster, the one thing we’re all desperate to see.
First heard only as a tuba-heavy roar of brass, played by a raucous “Minotaur band” in the gallery, the worm-like man-beast was deliciously creepy when he finally appeared through two different entrances simultaneously. The hero of the hour is Theseus – part Wagner’s Siegfried, part Barbie’s Ken – who wore an orange fluorescent shell suit, waved a sword as twinkly as a Christmas tree and knew no fear. The final chorus, these music-makers of Sheffield singing and playing their hearts out, was expansive and stirring.
No one can say putting two of the world’s top-selling pianists on the same stage can ever be a bad idea: how often does the Royal Festival Hall have to lay on extra seats to accommodate a capacity audience for a classical concert? All to the good: everyone present paid closest attention to Yuja Wang and Víkingur Ólafsson in their two-piano recital – from Luciano Berio to John Adams to Sergei Rachmaninov – which is part of a world tour. One wore a short, sparkly tube, the other a Gilbert and George-style green suit and tie. Their playing styles could hardly be more different, Wang achieving glittering iridescence even in her softest playing, Ólafsson drawing on infinite reserves of grace, mystery and profundity.
They sat side by side, with the pianos facing away from each other. On occasion, Ólafsson swung round and gestured emphatically to mark a general pause bar, or a final chord. Other times unanimity seemed not to be the point, especially in Schubert’s Fantasia in F minor, D940, where instead of four hands, two pianos, fusing as one, each player retained a determined independence and conspicuously went their own way. Wang’s fiery enthusiasm for speed was always generously accommodated by Ólafsson: she propelled Rachmaninov’s Symphonic Dances with the kind of throttle the composer, himself a lover of speedboats and fast cars, might have appreciated. The whole event was richly entertaining, and ecstatically received by the crowd. I’m a fan of both these pianists. Singly is excitement enough. I had to beat a retreat, ears ringing, after three encores with more in the offing.
If you haven’t encountered English National Opera’s Little Italy-style Rigoletto – the oldest established box-office crap game at the Coliseum – now’s the time. First seen in 1982 – designs by Patrick Robertson and Rosemary Vercoe, translation by James Fenton – this revival of Jonathan Miller’s production is superbly conducted by Richard Farnes, with top orchestral playing and expert male chorus. The cast isn’t stellar but benefits from a strongly sung, sympathetic Rigoletto (Weston Hurt); a Duke with gleaming high notes, even if his English needs more honing (Yongzhao Yu); and a Gilda with deft, spot-on coloratura (Robyn Allegra Parton). Recreating a cinematic 1950s New York, with sharp suits, a touch of Edward Hopper and a jukebox for the duplicitous Duke, it remains the best updating of any opera.
Star ratings (out of five)
The Monster in the Maze ★★★★
Yuja Wang and Víkingur Ólafsson ★★★★
Rigoletto ★★★★
