Went along to see the FIDELIO dress at the Coli, and all in all, liked it quite well. The set was very impressive, mazes of flourescent tubes and storm fencing, which flipped over in the second act to the dungeon level. I'd steer clear if you have epilepsy or migraine, though. There were several flashy sequences that made me feel quite peculiar. I certainly didn't envy the cast, or the string quartet that was lowered from the flies to celebrate Florestan's rescue. I find myself more and more in awe of opera singers, having to throw themselves around on the weird vertiginous sets that are now so common, while singing difficult music at an elite level, and trying to give a passable acting performance.
Alas for Emma Bell, she had a throat infection and had to mime Leonore while her cover (didn't get the name, but she was pretty good-) sang. That's always quite strange to watch, but didn't detract too much.
Bryan Register really gave Florestan's big number some welly, and acted the delerious wreck very convincingly. I found Philip Horst perhaps a bit lightweight as Pizarro, and from where I sat (forgot opera glasses yet again-) he looked an awful lot like 'Malcolm Tucker'. I liked him, though. I didn't quite get what they were trying to do with Don Fernando (Roland Wood), who came on in period costume, unlike everyone else, and pranced around camply in a sort of Liberace- style. Huh?
The whole cast was very good, if not exciting, and the chorus was on cracking form.
David Pountntey's translation seemed particularly clunky, often quite funny. (...'He raves with wild elation of death and mutilation...') Of course, I've no idea what the quality of the original libretto is.
motodraconis was also in the balcony, bravely sitting in the front row, right behind the rails. Must say her 2:5 regime has got her looking extra-slim and corset-ready.
Afterwards, I shuffled over to the NPG for a bit of a mooch, and checked out the little exhibit of fictional portraits by Bob Dylan. Interesting. They look fairly ordinary and undistinguished, but there's 'something about them.'
By the time I got home and went to the park to exercise I felt quite seedy and it was disgustingly steamy. Got it done, though, so I could feel smugly 'virtuous'.