OPERA
Samson and Delilah ★★★
Melbourne Opera, Palais Theatre, June 1

Samson and Delilah is the quintessential grand opera – large scale, spectacular (with many choruses and two ballets) and requiring superb singers. Melbourne Opera’s production – and music lovers should be grateful yet again for their vision and determination – unfortunately really had only the last.

The staging was deeply underplayed – deliberately so, according to the director’s program notes, to emphasise psychological aspects (budget constraints might have been relevant). For me, it didn’t work. The sets were far too minimalist, the lighting not even that, though Rose Chong’s costumes were a highlight. The stage was divided into three, with the singers in front, the orchestra behind – which considerably reduced its impact – and the chorus above and behind them.

The outstanding contribution came from the principals, Deborah Humble and Rosario La Spina, and the chorus (which is always outstanding). La Spina’s huge, sweet tenor was ideal for Samson, but the biggest moments belong to the mezzo Delilah, and Humble relished them: sensitive, seductive, superb. Simon Meadows, Jeremy Kleeman and Eddie Muliaumaseali’i were splendid in the minor roles, while conductor Raymond Lawrence was sympathetic to composer and singers.

The opera, which Camille Saint-Saëns (himself quite familiar with marital problems) takes from the Old Testament, tells of the Israelite leader who is seduced and betrayed by the vengeful Philistine Delilah. First performed in 1877, it was slow to bloom because of its biblical theme, but became immensely popular worldwide.

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For the shortcomings, director Suzanne Chaundy – a leading force in so many of the company’s recent triumphs, especially its series of Wagner operas – must take chief responsibility. The production was almost introverted, especially the climax where the blinded Samson pulls down the temple of the Philistine god Dagon, killing thousands. The bacchanal would scarcely have offended a women’s temperance union. When Delilah came on stage brandishing Samson’s shorn locks (the secret of his strength, symbolising his vow to God), they looked more like a dead possum.

Yet, despite imperfections, Melbourne’s first Samson and Delilah in 40 years was a real pleasure.
Reviewed by Barney Zwartz

MUSIC
Stephen Hough ★★★★★
Melbourne Recital Centre, June 2

English-Australian polymath and pianist Stephen Hough has taken Melbourne by storm, presenting a Herculean display of virtuosity in a program anchored by two large sonatas in B minor: Liszt’s dizzying monument to ultra-romanticism and Chopin’s finely honed Sonata No. 3.

As if to create some calm before Liszt’s musical storm, Hough presented three miniatures by the once-popular French composer Cecile Chaminade. Like fine porcelain, these were exquisitely coloured and beautifully shaped. Hough particularly evoked the fairytale woodland setting of Les Sylvains with imaginative flair.

Liszt’s sonata proved Hough to be an extraordinary force of nature. He held together all the mania and magic of this pianistic Everest in masterly equilibrium; at times suggesting Elisabeth Murdoch Hall’s Steinway had grown gnashing teeth, while at others intimating an easily shattered fragility.

Like a man possessed he delivered some dramatic elements with superhuman velocity yet was also capable of otherworldly poetry. The final fugue had impressive drive while maintaining clarity of texture.

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Another string to Hough’s artistic bow is composition. His own three-movement Sonatina Nostalgica proved the perfect foil for the intensity of the Liszt, with its gentle hints of bluesy, mid-century English pastoralism.

Balancing Liszt’s extraversion, the Chopin had many fine inner qualities. The first movement rang with patrician elegance, carefully contrasting with the elfin delicacy of the scherzo. Creating a memorable high point in the sonata, Hough invested the Largo with superb bel canto lyricism, transcending time and space. His exultation in the triumphant brilliance of the finale avoided self-indulgence and brought the official program to an ebullient close.

Two heart-warming, old-fashioned encores, Sinding’s Rustle of Spring and Elgar’s Salut d’amour, came with a poise that was not only born of sheer control but sheer delight.

As piano recitals go, it really doesn’t get any better than this.
Reviewed by Tony Way

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