Fringe: Another Afternoon at the Opera with Brian Bannatyne-Scott and Friends

St Andrew’s & St George’s Church - 12/08/23

The church I’ve only seen before stuffed with books and milling with booklovers at the annual used book sale. Now it reveals its architectural, even theatrical, splendour. A bright oval space with a thrusting apron stage backed by a set of stained-glass windows, probably Victorian. Perfect for our “afternoon at the opera”: four singers and a pianist, all in black, give us four centuries of highlights, with minimal movement, little commentary. 

First Monteverdi, who more or less invented opera. Accompanied by piano the music sounds remarkably modern. Brian’s bass has a natural authority, only the occasional momentary ‘Monteverdi trill’ takes us back to the Renaissance. After the opening solo comes a duet with mezzo Catherine Backhouse ringing out firmly across the egg-shaped space.

The four singers gather for a piece from Beethoven’s ‘Fidelio’. If Beethoven was not the greatest composer for voice, he captured here a moment of drama and a rich web of sound to which our performers rise with mastery, while keeping body language reserved: a smile, an eye contact, an opened hand.  

A solo for mezzo Catherine from Bizet’s ‘Carmen’. So often heard, it’s almost a pop song. She gives it flirtatious force with a more physical interpretation than we’ve seen so far.

Again, Bizet : a male duet from ‘Les pêcheurs de perles’. Young tenor and older bass together make a musical statement, perhaps unfashionable, of masculine power. During this, I notice that pianist Kristine Donnan is not inhibited by the reserved style of the singers’ mimetic; she almost dances at the piano throughout the hour.

‘Soave sia il vento’, a favourite of mine among many Mozartian favourites, comes over with all the ease that genius brought to music. If honey has a tune, here it is. The high notes from soprano Caroline Taylor bring tears to my eyes, not the story, not the words, simply the sound. 

Tenor Laurie Slavin takes us on with Puccini’s ‘Che gelida manina’ with Caroline responding. His voice is strong, though his presence is not quite there, face somewhat obscured by his hair, his gestures a little cramped. Caroline’s unforced vocal power brings Mimi to life. 

Mussorgsky’s ‘Boris Godunov’ next, with Brian stronger than ever, his enunciation so pure I catch several of the 50 Russian words I learned at school. Even if we don’t really know what’s going on, we feel the dark drama. 

Lastly, the quartet from Verdi’s ‘Rigoletto’. Here I feel on home ground, having acted in Harwood’s play ‘Quartet’, which ends with the cast miming to a recording of this piece. Caroline’s final high note still resonates with me this morning as I write.

Brian’s programme notes, almost a potted history of the genre, point to the prevalence of silly plotlines and execrable characters recently made worse by shudderingly awful productions, all combined with sublime music. This pared-back presentation, fluent in four languages, allows the music to sing for itself.