Rain, rain, rain. Well, this All Hallow's Eve has brought a continuous downpour. Elsewhere in the country, there have been flood alerts throughout the Severn and the Wye valleys. The kids doing the rounds of front doors in their witches' drag have been absolutely soaked, poor puppies.
I woke up with Ross to the sound of rain
and snuggled down to a good lie in with him. Sure I broke fast and had some tea and
listened to the Today news programme and Home Truths on the radio. But
essentially I was resting rather than bouncing out of bed. We did a little <hem
hem> bouncing on the bed later on which was nice and unexpected and about which
I shall say no more.
Back home I fed Cyril, dined on steak and potatoes,
tried to talk with either of the two Colin's on the phone and failed but did get to
speak with Gill. Then I settled down and watched
Ross's video of Scream. I've seen it before in
July of last year when Phil was staying
with us and it's still enjoyable even when you do know the ending. The cast went
through their paces but whoever thought of naming their boy child Skeet. Sheesh.
As night fell, it was into town for an appropriate opera Hansel and Gretel at ENO. The composer is Englebert Humperdinck. And no, this one came first. The singer from the 60s and 70s adopted his name for his own.
I thoroughly enjoyed the evening. In fact, it is almost without doubt, the best night of opera I have had this year. Nerys Jones was OK was Hansel. More enjoyable was Margaret Richardson as Gretel. Best of all were the parents. Keith Latham was the Father. Now there's a voice that has grown in stature since I first heard him with Opera North as Amonasro in Aida in April 1986 in Manchester. Colin and I both went and marked him out as a performer to watch out for and, indeed, his confidence as an actor has grown in that period as well. Elizabeth Vaughan took the part of both the Mother and the Witch as was splendid as both. And, given comments I have made about audibility and volume the past two times I have been to ENO, it was interesting to note that with this score I had no problems with hearing and immediacy.
The production was first seen in December 1987 and takes a very definite stance attempting to counter the Thatcherite view of the time about there being no such thing as community. Set in the 1950s, the guardian angels who watch over Hansel and Gretel in the forest become the pillars of idyllic middle England, a postman, a milk deliveryman, an elderly couple, a Salvation Army lady, a policeman, etc. Staging, transitions, costuming, lighting, effects produced pictures that ravished the eye in counterpart to melodies that ravished the ear under the baton of Elgar Howarth.
There were some things that jarred but on the whole it all combined to work well. There was some sleight of hand. David Pountney deliberately changed the libretto to suit his purposes. For example, the Father's final summing up in German goes
Merkt des Himmels Strafgericht:
Böse Werke dauern nicht.
This is normally translated as something like
Heaven thus has judgement passed:
things of evil do not last.
We got
When a child cries out in fear,
Someone, somewhere now shall hear.
Well, although it stretches the point considerably, it was effective at the time and, well, all art is propaganda and that bit certainly hit home for me and the eyes moistened considerably. I've now consciously known three people who were abused as children. Two of them, Ross and David, have been partners of mine. It's not an issue I am very rational about. I simply don't understand how any adult can assault a small person and deny them their childhood. It's bad enough with all of the baggage we don't mean to pass on to our small ones without compounding the damage wilfully.
Sunday was All Saints Day. It is followed by All Souls Day thus giving a trilogy of a night for evil followed by a day for sublime good followed by a day for the rest of us poor people trying our hardest to get things right (I learnt this off the radio, by the way).
The day wasn't a good one for me. I had lunch with
my parents and
Linda and her husband, Ian. Whether it was
the drive or the time pressure I don't know but I spent the entire afternoon in a
complete state. I tried to find out where it came from but I honestly don't know.
I do know that I ended up looking forward to a hot bath to unknot the muscles in my
right shoulder and an early bed.
