Tag: opera

Picture from Royal Academy of Music

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Agustín Pennino

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We sat down for an exclusive interview with countertenor Agustín Pennino, who is sharing the title role of Rinaldo with mezzo-soprano Ella Orehek-Coddington.

Amid a holy war, crusader Rinaldo must overcome sorcery, deception and his own inner struggle to save the woman he loves.

First performed in London in 1711, Rinaldo marked the beginning of Handel’s prolific career in England and features some of the composer’s most famous arias.

This show runs from 17-20th March 2026 at the Royal Academy of Music. It is currently sold out, but you can join the waitlist here.

Handel demands both athletic vocalism and emotional refinement. What
aspects of Rinaldo have challenged you most as a countertenor, and
where do you feel the role allows you the greatest expressive freedom?

For me, the greatest challenge lies in finding expression within the coloratura. The paradox of Handel is that the more notes there are, the more expressive responsibility you have. Coloratura in this repertoire is not decorative — it is a very precise, baroque way of expressing a determinate emotional state.

The real difficulty comes in the bravura arias: maintaining absolute technical clarity while staying emotionally connected. It’s easy to focus on the athletic side, but the true challenge is keeping the emotional intention alive inside that virtuosity. When it works, that’s also where the role gives the greatest freedom.

Rinaldo is a hero shaped as much by vulnerability as by bravery. How are you approaching the psychological arc of the character, particularly in moments like “Cara sposa,” where strength gives way to grief?

I always try to approach characters through modern, natural human reactions, because that’s how we truly connect with an audience today. What Rinaldo gives us is actually something very familiar.

At the beginning, Rinaldo believes he is winning the war. He presents himself as someone invincible — someone who will always fulfil his duty, no matter what. He is strong, decisive, and certain of himself. But the kidnapping of his beloved breaks that image completely.

In that moment, Rinaldo uncovers a hidden side: the sensitive one, the one that is still a child, the one that is not used to losing. That vulnerability is deeply human. Even today, we often carry on with our responsibilities no matter what, hiding our most fragile parts so as not to appear weak. “Cara sposa” is the moment where that mask falls away, and that is what makes it so powerful.

Having performed Orfeo and Oreste, how does Rinaldo compare as a Handelian hero in terms of emotional temperature, vocal architecture, and dramatic stakes?

One of the defining features of Baroque music is repetition — and variation within repetition. As one of my mentors, Joyce DiDonato, beautifully describes it, this is the musical equivalent of the brain circling around the same thought. And that’s something profoundly human — we obsess, we replay emotions, we get stuck.

Although Baroque music may sound more structured than Gluck or Offenbach, it actually allows for a very internal and psychological journey. In Rinaldo, the dramatic stakes are extremely high, but they unfold inwardly. Every da capo is an opportunity to deepen the emotional temperature, not just repeat it. That makes the role both demanding and incredibly rich.

You trained across Uruguay, Italy, and now London. How have these
different operatic cultures shaped your interpretation of Baroque style
and ornamentation for Rinaldo?
Italy was similar in some ways: early music is more present than in Uruguay, but still not central. There, especially through competitions, I learned how to make ornamentation impressive and extravagant — the more daring, the better.

In Uruguay, early music is not widely performed, so at that stage I learned how to invent ornamentation from instinct. That creativity stayed with me — and even today, I still improvise some of my ornaments.

In the UK, however, I learned something crucial: how to simplify. How to connect ornamentation directly to emotional truth, rather than virtuosity for its own sake. Ornamentation here becomes psychological, not decorative — and that has deeply influenced how I approach Rinaldo.

As a member of the Royal Academy Opera 2025–27, how does
performing a title role at this stage of your career influence the way you
think about artistic risk, leadership on stage, and professional identity?

Being given a title role at this moment in my career forces me to trust myself more deeply. When you are still early in your professional path, there is often a tendency to want to “do things right” — to prove reliability, style, and discipline. A role like Rinaldo pushes you beyond that mindset. It demands personal choices, strong instincts, and the courage to stand behind them.

Artistic risk becomes less about doing something extreme, and more about committing fully— emotionally, vocally, and dramatically. You cannot hide in a title role. Every decision you make shapes the energy of the room, the pacing of the drama, and even how your colleagues feel supported on stage. That responsibility naturally creates leadership, even if you are not consciously trying to lead.

It has also made me think differently about professional identity. Rather than asking “What kind of singer am I supposed to be?”, this experience encourages me to ask “What kind of artist do I want to be?” — how I communicate, how I collaborate, and how honestly I allow myself to be seen. At this stage, performing a title role is not about arriving somewhere; it’s about defining the direction forward with greater confidence and self-awareness.

Rinaldo is often the audience’s gateway into Handel. What do you hope afirst-time listener will discover about the countertenor voice — andabout you as an artist — through this production?

I hope a first-time listener discovers that the countertenor voice is not just about sound or rarity, but about contrast. The contrast between virtuosity and vulnerability — where the fireworks are never there for their own sake, but always in service of feeling. I hope they hear how quickly the voice can move from something extremely intimate to something openly heroic, and how those shifts mirror the emotional world of the character.

I would also love for them to understand that ornamentation is not decoration. In this music, ornamentation is psychology. It reflects how a thought evolves, how an emotion insists, how the mind returns again and again to the same feeling. When it’s done truthfully, it brings us closer to the character, not further away.

On a personal level, I hope the audience senses my own connection to the role, rather than an attempt to present a “correct” or museum-like version of the style. I do study — and have studied — how this repertoire should be performed, but the composer is no longer here. At some point, the responsibility shifts to the performer (and of course, to the musical director) to make choices that feel honest and alive.

Through this production, I hope people hear something crafted to speak directly to modern audiences — something human, emotionally immediate, and present. If they leave feeling that this music belongs to them too, then I feel I’ve done my job.

REVIEW: Iolanthe

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Rating: 3.5 out of 5.

A light-hearted production of a less frequently performed Gilbert and Sullivan

A Gilbert and Sullivan classic, Iolanthe was produced during the peak of the composers’ collaboration, opening on the same night in 1882 in both London and New York. This production joined the list of ‘Savoy Operas’, shows performed in the Savoy Theatre which was purposely built to showcase the work of the famed duo. 

With a run cut short in March 2020, today Iolanthe is performed in Wilton’s Music Hall by the company of Charles Court Opera. The story follows a classic tale of mistaken identity, with an extra dash of magic. Fairies are forbidden to marry mortals but Iolanthe has gone ahead and done so anyway, producing a half-fairy half-mortal son while she’s at it. General chaos ensues, with the story set in central London’s House of Lords. 

The ensemble is vocally strong, producing some glorious harmonies and articulating the often fast-paced lyrics with skill. Unfortunately, there is some considerable background over-acting which often serves to upstage the soloist, a shame when the singing is the highlight. 

Matthew Kellett is a magnificent Lord Chancellor, delivering on both comic timing and vocal prowess. His performance of ‘the nightmare song’ is well-paced and hilarious, eliciting well-deserved whoops of appreciation from the audience. Meriel Cunningham is a dominant yet cheeky Fairy Queen, with a beautifully unique voice commanding cast and audience attention alike. 

Gender-swapping a lord character to Lady Mountararat (Catrine Kirkman), we are treated to a fabulous Theresa May impression and some lovely vocals. Strangely, although this casting choice results in a lesbian relationship, director John Savournin completely shies away from the reality of this. While the male Earl and his female partner sit on each other’s laps and hold hands, the all-female pair stand stiffly side by side. If a gender swap is introduced, this disappointing same-sex relationship prudishness rather defeats the purpose. 

A very enthusiastic Charles Court Opera Chamber Orchestra is conducted rather noisily by David Eaton, producing a beautiful score at a fiery pace, with performers struggling to keep up at times. 

Set design by Rachel Szmukler is flexible and realistic, while costumes and makeup leave much to be desired. Fairies are dressed in anything from boxing boots to Dr Martens, with unexplained, newspaper-inspired costumes. The female cast members are made-up very heavy-handedly using an intense, fiery palette potentially with stage lights in mind, but this is not required for such an intimate venue. 

A comic opera well-suited to the current political times, Charles Court Opera presents an admiral revival. Iolanthe plays at Wilton’s Music Hall until February 28, 2026. 

REVIEW: ENO’s Cosi fan tutte

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Rating: 4 out of 5.

Mozart’s most glittering social experiment arrives at the London Coliseum 

ENO’s production of Mozart’s Così fan tutte returns to the London Coliseum. ENO (English National Opera ) performs all its operas in English so audiences can understand the drama directly without linguistic barriers. ENO has had more new productions of Così fan tutte than any other Mozart opera, with good reason. There is something faintly disreputable about Così fan tutte, and ENO has the good sense not to disinfect it. Mozart’s most glittering social experiment arrives at the London Coliseum dressed as a mid-century pleasure park, all Coney Island lights and whirring amusements, as though fidelity itself were a sideshow attraction that might be won with sufficient nerve.

Phelim McDermott’s production, first seen more than a decade ago, remains durable. The production starts strong with a comedic tone. The performers hold up cards to set up the audience’s expectations. Its fairground frame does not so much update the opera as expose it. Così is all about spectacle: men in disguise, women performing virtue, a philosopher pulling strings. By relocating the action to a world of rollercoasters and carnival barkers, McDermott literalises the emotional vertigo. Love becomes something ridden for thrills, tested for endurance, abandoned when the ticket runs out.

ENO’s insistence on performing in English clarifies the cruelty. Da Ponte’s libretto, when understood in real time, is less a romp than a controlled demolition of romantic certainty. The recitatives crackle with calculation; the ensembles bloom with doubt. What emerges is not a comedy of manners but a study in mutual surveillance. Everyone watches everyone else. The audience, implicated, watches too. The Irish soprano Ailish Tynan stole the show as the hilarious maid Despina. Despina is pragmatic and holds cynical views on men, advising the sisters that soldiers are fickle and that they should “enjoy life” and Tynan captured her perfectly. 

Musically, the evening moves with a tensile brightness. The orchestra leans into Mozart’s mercurial shifts from silk to steel. Fiordiligi’s great aria does not simply scale its impossible intervals; it climbs them like a woman scaling the walls of her own conviction. Dorabella, warmer and quicker to yield, feels less frivolous than pragmatic. The men, so confident in their wager, shrink in proportion to their experiment. Don Alfonso, smiling, presides like a maître d’ of disillusion.

What lingers is not the carnival colour but the aftertaste. When the disguises fall away and the couples reassemble, the fairground lights glow with a slightly harsher wattage. One senses that nothing has been restored, only rearranged. The rollercoaster returns to its starting point, but the riders have learned the drop.

ENO’s Così does not argue that “all women are like that.” It suggests, more bleakly and more truthfully, that all of us are susceptible to performance when love becomes a test. In a house as large as the Coliseum, the opera’s final ensembles can feel almost symphonic. Here they feel intimate, as if the carnival has closed and the mirrors remain.

For dates and tickets, see here: Così fan tutte tickets and schedule at ENO’s official site (London Coliseum, 6–21 Feb 2026)

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Joseph O’Curneen and David Ottone

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We sat down with Joseph O’Curneen and David Ottone to chat about their production The Opera Locos. The show is a vibrant comic opera which blending physical comedy, opera classics, and pop hits for an unmissable night where Verdi meets Celine Dion. The show offers a fun, accessible alternative to traditional opera, combining humour with the skill of trained singers perfect for families. Tickets here.

Joseph O’Curneen

The Opera Locos walks a fine line between loving opera and gently dismantling it. When you first co-created the show, how conscious were you of protecting opera’s dignity while gleefully poking fun at it?

Very much so. No intention whatsoever to dismantle or to dishonor the art form, far from it. Maybe, to some extent, question the rigidity of the tradition but never the music itself.

We love opera, and by combining it with our particular brand of physical theatre and humour we offer a new way of experiencing it, conscious of the need to maintain high standards of vocal technique and artistic integrity. We want both the seasoned opera-goer and the novice to leave with a renewed love for the art form.

Yllana’s work is famously physical and wordless in spirit. What does physical comedy allow you to express about opera that language or satire alone never could?

Opera Locos is in fact a demonstration of how both art forms can coexist, in unison. In essence it’s all about human expression. Characters expressing themselves using the entire spectrum of language and eloquence, from a moment of silence, to a subtle gesture, to hitting the finest operatic note. 

There is something endearing though about a character hitting the finest and most subtle note, and soon afterwards falling flat, so to speak. It’s the comic prespective. It’s a broad perspective. Do you love him for how beautifully he sings, or for his flaws? For both. Opera Locos is all about admiring two of the finest human achievements: prat falls and opera. And to love them both in kind.

After touring this show across 16 countries, what have international audiences taught you about how humour, music, and opera travel—or don’t—across cultures?

Audiences around the world connect easily with universal themes, such as músic, love, and human frailty. Flaws, defects, imperfections, are fine sources of comedy, and universal hallmarks of humanity. And our characters are like that, very human indeed. Everybody can connect to that. It’s a common denominator across all cultures, as too is the ability to admire beauty in music. 

David Ottone

The show blends Puccini and Verdi with Whitney Houston and U2 without irony. What’s your instinct when deciding which musical worlds can collide, and what makes a transition feel truthful rather than gimmicky?

Anything that helps to heighten a characters internal state, is good enough, as long as it’s aligned with the over all style, and artistic framework. If the character is believable and his desires ring true, then he could break into song regardless of how antagonistic the style may seem. Some songs just feel better, by there significance or by the impact they’ve had on popular culture. 

You’re directing performers who are both elite singers and fearless comedians. How do you create a rehearsal room where technical perfection and joyful chaos can coexist?

There is a time and place for everything. Joyful chaos should always precede perfection. Creativity is messy and should be so. You need to revel in chaos and madness at the outset, to help to loosen up the cast and to free their talent. This is especially true in comedy. Some of the best ideas come from improvisation and the free association of ideas. Afterwards you need to reign it all in, to give way to the gruelling process of perfection.

Returning to the Peacock Theatre after such a strong response last time, does revisiting a show like this feel like refinement, rediscovery, or letting it run wild all over again?

Letting it run wild all over again. I believe that is our assignment!

REVIEW: Royal Academy of Music ‘s Carmen at Susie Sainsbury Theatre

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Rating: 3.5 out of 5.

Christopher White nailed the night with an exquisite performance of the orchestra

It was a little unusual to watch Carmen at the Royal Academy of Music, where most of my operatic and musical experiences have tended toward the avant-garde, contemporary, or rarely performed repertoire. Carmen feels almost too “safe” as a box-office choice, instead of something bolder and more unconventional – just like the title character. However, that very unexpectedness is what drove me to witness this Royal Academy Opera production.

The cast showcased some of the most incredible students at the Academy. Charlotte Clapperton’s Carmen was in a way both conventional and unconventional. She’s the Carmen everyone expects to see: bold, self-possessed and with a faint vibe of gen Z feminism. The casting of Woogyeom Kim as an Asian Don José can be an apt choice as he dutifully reflected a “good boy” that inevitably turned into an intimidating man by the end. Astonishingly just in their first and second year, both showcased their vocal abilities as promising, while baritone Harrison Robb gave an uncompromising performance as Escamillo. His deep, soulful voice lingered on your mind even after the show.

 Production wise, director Harry Fehr gives the production a modern touch, but I felt uncertain about some of the creative choices. While Yannis Thavoris’s minimalist design tackled the practical needs of Carmen‘s scene changes, I was perplexed by the intention of Matt Powell’s projections. They seemed to indicate multiple “what-ifs”, but these what-ifs appeared as unclear. For some projection clips, they may lead the pair to an alternative happy ending instead of its current tragic end if the pair could have been more open and franker, but some others just indicated Carmen stabbing Don José rather than vise versa. The disco movement (Victoria Newlyn) didn’t fit the music of Lillas Pastia’s tavern, and I was also not convinced by the decision of turning the final corrida into a social-media inspired press night as overtly cheeky.

What really awed me the night, far beyond my expectation, was the performance of the Royal Academy Sinfonia. Unified, precise and delicate, conductor Christopher White lavished on Bizet’s romantic antiquity with some brightness and lightness of chamber music. This worked especially well with Madeleine Perring’s Micaëla when she was singing her famous aria in the latest Act. To my surprise, she nearly stole the entire show, not as the innocent “foil” set contrast to Carmen, but as the girl with determination and resilience.  Perring’s voice was mellow, gentle but firm – her voice watered your eyes with genuine emotion.

REVIEW: Opera North: La Bohème

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Rating: 5 out of 5.

A universally resonant revival of a timeless classic

Puccini’s ‘La Bohème’ – one of the most well-known and frequently performed works in the entire operatic repertoire – is the latest production by Opera North to grace the Lowry, returning after the popularity of previous runs. Presented as a series of vignettes centred on a group of young, struggling Bohemians in Paris, this 4-act opera is an emotional rollercoaster from the first to the last.

Phyllida Lloyd’s acclaimed take on La Bohème breathes an invigorating life into a story originally set in the 1830s, a time that anyone attending an opera today will have little to no context for. Accordingly, Lloyd updates the setting to something more in line with what a modern audience might typically associate with the word “Bohemian” – the 1960s.

Motorcycles, leather jackets, fingerless glove, Parisian cafes, pop art adorning the walls of paint-splattered art-studios – in terms of the costuming and set-design, it’s all there. From the opening curtain of the first act, the audience already has a strong sense of the types of characters and scenes that will tug on their heartstrings for the next 2 hours.  Updating the setting in this way is a crucial step in helping the audience to connect with the characters, which is top priority for an opera with the intense emotional drive of La Bohème.

The first act sets up the lives of struggling poet Rodolfo, and his artist friends as they try to make rent and keep warm in the cold Parisian winter. The performances were immediately inviting and packed with humour, every subtle action and exchanged look acting as a window into the nature of the relationships between this long-time group of friends.

 After his friends leave, Rodolfo unexpectedly encounters the female lead Mimi, leading into the famous aria ‘Che gelida manina’ (Your tiny hand is frozen) – in which he introduces himself – followed by Mimì’s ‘Mi chiamano Mimì’ (They call me Mimì).

The vocal performances for these arias were sublime – Anthony Ciaramitaro delivered a robust tenor as Rodolfo, captivating the audience with his stage presence. The subsequent breathtaking performance by Olivia Boen as Mimì was one of the high points of the show for me. Hearing the stirring delivery of emotional swells (“But when springtime comes… the first rays of sunshine are mine”) carried by the torrential force of the incredible orchestra, I caught myself realising (being new to opera) – “Oh… so this is why people love it.”

The second act – set in a lively cafe in a town square – I particularly noted for the energy present on stage at all times. Large crowds of shoppers, children, diners and our main characters flow through and around each other seamlessly, with hundreds of small interactions happening in the background simultaneously to the main performances, giving the whole scene an authenticity and liveliness that’s easy to get absorbed into.

Here we were also introduced to Musetta, a strong, independent leopard-print-coat-wearing diva, whose performance by Elin Pritchard brings an extra comically flamboyant punch to the production.

In this way, the first two acts play much like a rom-com, which makes the tragedy of the final two all the more devastating. The individual performances of the talented cast all come together to deliver a heart-wrenching finale, which is bound to give even the most stoic audience member a lump in their throat.

La Boheme isoften recommended to newcomers to opera for the accessibility and universality of its libretto and music and, frankly, I couldn’t think of a better way to dip your toes into this incredible art form than Opera North’s unforgettable production of this classic.

REVIEW: ENO: Albert Herring

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Rating: 3.5 out of 5.

“Camp and hilarious but disappointing visuals“

The English National Opera made their Manchester debut with a wonderfully fun piece of theatre. Albert Herring is set in the English countryside of the 1940s, where lustful youth are causing a moral panic for their elder conservative neighbours. The set design and costume of the piece were very simple: naturalistic, period accurate costumes in mild colours and giant wooden boards with interchanging shop signs. This arguably gave the performers a chance to shine, and shine they did with outstanding performances in their singing, comedy, and acting. But also, this visual simplicity drew more attention to the interesting choice of having the stagehands be deliberately shown as a piece of the play, even interacting at times with the characters. This choice was honestly jarring at first, but once I got used to their involvement in the show it helped highlight the artifice of theatre and therefore furthers the overall campness of the show. A campness that I only wish was more reflected in the visuals. Given that May Day (the occasion that the play is centred around) has its pagan origin in wild merriment (drinking, partying etc) it would have been interesting to see how the chase Christian morals of certain characters in the play are in opposition to the very festival that they are parading. This is certainly in the subtext of the piece, but it could have been interesting to see irony more obviously within the play with more clear visual decorations and symbols of May Day’s festivities to parallel the plays decent into moral unravelling. This could have been achieved through props and costume: a may pole, a green man costume ect. I will say though for all my complaints about the costuming, there were a couple of highlights: Albert’s May King outfit which was as ridiculous and uncomfortable for Albert as the whole pageantry it was involved in was, therefore providing some great visual comedy; as well as the local bad boys’ cowboy-esk outfit showcasing the youthful rebellious spirit of the emerging 1950s teenager that many of the characters are so frightened by.

The first half of the show had felt quite slow and like it was dragging. My friend who attended with me is a trained Opera singer, and she told me that as a fan she can appreciate the slow pacing because she is busy admiring the beautifully skilled singing. However, to my own untrained ear, that effect was lost, and therefore elements of the first half just felt repetitive and slow. However, this picked up in the much stronger second half. At the end of the play, Herring’s liberation from moral chastity is greatly cathartic for the audience. With all this purity culture, youth, and repressed sexuality, Herrings wild side in contrast is fun, flirtatious, and daring. Resulting in a fantastic boisterous ending with a surprise moment, a small but bold edit that shouldn’t shock you in this day and age but certainly will. But I’ll let you enjoy that when you go and see the play, which despite my criticisms, I really recommend you do if you want a fun night out that will leave you in stitches!

REVIEW: La Bohème

Published on by Sam WLeave a comment

Rating: 3.5 out of 5.

An opera about artists – and a production that fails to take artistic risks

First performed in 1896, La bohème is one of the most enduring operas ever – it is one of the most performed titles, and has spawned multiple adaptations, most famously the musicals Moulin Rouge! and Rent.

Thus, Scottish Opera’s latest offering is another in a long line of many. It is, unfortunately, just that and nothing more; a perfectly adequate production that does what you expect and never truly wows you or disappoints you in any way.

Giacomo Puccini’s La bohème centres on the lives and romances of a group of poor, artistic friends, namely people who live a Bohemian lifestyle. This production makes one of its few interesting choices by opening in modern-day Paris, filled with tourists running about and taking selfies, before transitioning to the original setting of the same locale but in the 19th century, directly drawing on the timeless nature of the story.

In fact, the ability of the production to recreate the atmosphere of Paris over a century ago is one of its few clear-cut strengths. The set design again parallels the current day with the past with its backdrop a postcard of the scenery, while the lighting is a constant moody blue that makes you feel the cold and the dark that the characters live in.

It is a tough world for the characters as they struggle with both material needs and emotional turmoil. Romantic jealousy and the lack of firewood exist side-by-side. The way this is painted on the characters brings up an interesting dynamic as they are not necessarily sympathetic characters but reside in sympathetic circumstances, but they still lack a certain complexity; they lack an adequate level of internality, and it means all the drama stemming from their relationships feel hollow. The emotional core of the piece suffers from this very same issue, and so when you are expected to react to it, you feel the manipulation of the creator’s heavy hand. This unpleasantness more than the unpleasant nature of the characters is what fails to endear them to you.

This is the fault of the source material and not the production itself. However, the production does not do itself any favours in its attempts, or lack of, to elevate this source material. Despite the intriguing opening, it does not do anything further with it, a microcosm of the inability to transcend beyond Puccini’s original vision. This goes for the performances too. Much like the rest of the production, they are competent and sometimes verging on something extra, but they never quite reach that next level.

That is not to say you will go away disappointed – but you also do not go away with a whole new appreciation for the artform. With the amount of showings of La bohème throughout history and still produced nowadays too, it feels like a missed opportunity to put on something that does not dive in with both feet and give it a real go.

REVIEW: Cinderella (La Cenerentola) at London Coliseum 

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Rating: 4 out of 5.

“Cinderella is back but not as we know it“

One of Gioachino Rossini’s most popular operas, La Cenerentola has been making a comeback in recent years. Director Julia Burbach has chosen to present an English version of the Italian opera, a translation presented by the English National Opera so genius it’s hard to believe it’s not the original language. 

Rossini altered many key details from what is considered the original version written in 1697 by Charles Perrault, changing the iconic glass slipper into a bracelet, the evil stepmother into a stepfather and fairy godmother to the male Alidoro, a tutor of the prince. Burbach adds a silent female counterpart, the spirit of Cinderella’s mother, who dances alongside Alidoro, peeking around doorways and over balconies at her much-maligned daughter. She also adds a group of children dressed as adorable mice to assist Alidoro in his dealings, some of whom randomly transform into miniature versions of the family members for no discernible reason other than for the great amusement of the audience. 

Recontextualising the 1810 story into present day London, the large ensemble are dressed in a curious array of modern-ish costumes, designed by Sussie Juhlin-Wallén. However, she triumphs in her creation of the chorus costumes, dressing them as Ramiro’s ancestors in a stunning array of crimson, adding extra humour with many chorus members dressed in voluptuous skirts and towering wigs. 

Deepa Johnny is an exquisite Cinderella, with Isabelle Peters and Grace Durham bursting with talent as they play the hilariously vain and conceited step-sisters Tisbe and Clorinda. Aaron Godfrey-Mayes is a stunning Prince Don Ramiro and Simon Bailey an amusing and quick-tongued Don Magnifico. 

Yi-Chen-Lin expertly conducts the Orchestra of English National Opera with vigour and elegance, although at times the performers struggle to keep up with the escalating music. Set by Herbert Murauer is both functional and unique, with two sets of elevator doors set within a grand mansion allowing for many exciting moments to keep the audience entertained during what is a very lengthy opera. 

A thoroughly enjoyable presentation of a beloved romantic opera, English National Opera have created a production that is both accessible and visually exciting. A cohesive and talented ensemble made up of singers, dancers and children ensure this presentation is truly worthy of the esteemed Rossini name and a production not to be missed by any opera-lover.

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Natasha Page

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We sat down with Natasha Page who makes her debut with English Touring Opera as Adina in a new production of Donizetti’s ‘The Elixir of Love’, which opens at Hackney Empire on 27 September before touring across the country, tickets are available here.

Natasha, congratulations on your ETO debut! How does it feel to be stepping  into the role of Adina for the very first time with the company? 

Thank you! I’m absolutely thrilled to be making my ETO debut as Adina. Working with  this company has been a long-standing goal of mine – I’ve seen friends and colleagues  perform with ETO and have always been so impressed by the standard of both the  performers and the productions. It’s a real honour to now be part of that myself. ETO  has such a forward-thinking ethos, especially in making exceptional artistic experiences accessible to all, which is something I feel very strongly about. I’m really excited to bring this role to life with them. 

Adina is such a strong and playful character. What have you enjoyed most about  discovering and embodying her? 

I see The Elixir of Love as a coming-of-age story for Adina. In our version, it’s set in a  rundown seaside town, with Adina and Nemorino on the brink of adulthood. Adina  dreams of escape – she sees endless possibilities beyond the town and is ready to  move on. But when two strangers arrive, everything shifts. They act as catalysts for change, and Adina starts to question what she really wants. Maybe, just maybe, there’s  something – or someone – worth staying for. It’s a very relatable journey. We’ve all been  through that messy, awkward phase of growing up, thinking we have all the answers,  only to realise there’s still so much to learn. 

Donizetti’s Elixir of Love is often described as sparkling and joyful – do you have a  favourite moment in the opera that always makes you smile when performing it? 

There’s so much brilliant music in this opera – well done, Donizetti! One moment that  always makes me smile is the duet with Dulcamara at the start of Act 2. It’s very cheeky,  with incredibly catchy music. That said, I might be slightly biased, but Adina’s big aria at  the end of Act 2 is a real favourite. The cavatina is such a gift to sing—it’s a moment of  true sincerity from her. 

Winning the 2023 Maureen Lehane Vocal Award was such a big achievement.  How has that milestone shaped your journey leading into this debut? 

Winning the 2023 Maureen Lehane Vocal Award gave me a huge boost of confidence  and opened several doors. Through connections from the competition, I performed my  first Fiordiligi in Così fan tutte at the Celebrate Voice Festival – a big milestone.  Fiordiligi is a demanding role that requires serious vocal stamina, much like Adina.  Taking on that challenge helped build the vocal and mental resilience I’m now drawing  on in this debut. 

Touring opera brings music to audiences across the country who might not  otherwise experience it. What excites you most about taking this show on the road with ETO?

I’m excited to bring this opera to audiences across the country, and to explore cities I’ve  never visited before. We’re performing the opera in a vibrant English translation, which really brings out the  humour and heart of the story. It’s a rom-com at its core, and I think people will really  connect with it. I’m also looking forward to taking part in the schools workshops – it’s so important for young people to experience opera early on. They’re the audiences of  the future. 

What do you hope audiences will take away from Elixir of Love? 

At the heart of this opera is the question: what is love? 

Is it true devotion? Playful independence? Can it be bought, owned – or bottled in a  magic potion? The Elixir of Love has fun with all of this. I hope audiences leave smiling,  thinking about what love means to them, and with hearts a little warmer than when they  arrived.