Henrietta Bredin

David Belasco was a pioneer in the field of stage lighting, passionate about creating realistic effects, the most famous of which occurred in his one-act play Madame Butterfly, during which the action slowed to an almost total halt for a 14-minute, lovingly rendered dawn sequence. Puccini saw the play in London in 1900 and rushed backstage afterwards to find Belasco and make an immediate bid for the rights so as to turn it into an opera. Being a man much impressed by technical innovation, Puccini was especially struck by the dawn lighting and went on to incorporate the episode in his opera, as the culmination of Butterfly’s night-long vigil, waiting for the return of the faithless Pinkerton.

What is it like for an actor, after the stimulating exploratory process of rehearsal, followed by the high-voltage excitement of opening night, to go on performing the same piece over and over again, night after night? A long run of a show makes it a banker for its producers and is therefore in many ways highly desirable. Indeed a big musical has to run for some months before it even begins to recoup its production costs. It is not, however, an easy ride for the actors concerned. There is a range of different challenges to face, from becoming jaded and disenchanted by endless repetition, to being physically and mentally exhausted by the emotional challenges a piece may present.

Joanna Lumley bears a distinct resemblance to the delectable Mrs Algernon Stitch in Evelyn Waugh’s Scoop, who, while still in bed of a morning, supervises the painting of a mural, fills in the crossword, offers useful advice on matters of state, attends to pressing correspondence, corrects a child’s construing of Horace and deals with a friend’s emotional and financial problems, before bowling merrily into the London traffic in ‘the latest model of mass-produced baby car, painted an invariable brilliant black’. Her modern-day equivalent tends not to run her life from bed but is capable of juggling quite as many and as varied tasks simultaneously, from filming and producing to writing and working unshowily for key charitable causes.

The phrase ‘English song’ is often met with suspicion, bringing with it a whiff of the morris dance, the come, follow follow and the hey nonny no — and the work of Roger Quilter, composing in the first half of the 20th century, is no exception to this reaction. However, for those with ears to hear and prejudices to shed, there are rare treasures to be  found when a new recording of his complete songs for solo voice and piano is released at the end of February, sung  by baritone Mark Stone, accompanied by the composer and conductor Stephen Barlow. ‘Quilter and I go back a long way,’ says Stone. ‘Three of his Shakespeare songs were some of the first things I ever learnt.

Puccini’s Bohemians really knew how to have a good time at Christmas. Huddled in a freezing cold Parisian garret, Rodolfo is reduced to burning his own play for warmth and has just consigned the final act to the flames when Schaunard bursts in and flings on to the table a shower of coins he has earned from giving music lessons to an eccentric Englishman. Along with Marcello and Colline they manage to get out of paying the quarter’s rent they owe and head off to the Café Momus to celebrate Christmas Eve with a blow-out dinner. Act Two of the opera is a sort of self-contained festive explosion, with conspicuous consumption (rather than the tubercular variety, which makes itself less joyously apparent later on) at its heart.

The titles of Jonathan Dove’s musical works — Flight, Tobias and the Angel, Palace in the Sky, The Little Green Swallow, Man on the Moon — might lead one to consider his winged surname a highly appropriate one. However, while the composer undoubtedly possesses a soaring imagination, it is allied to a refreshingly pragmatic, earthbound streak, and he is also the author of the more prosaically titled Pig, Greed and An Old Way to Pay New Debts. ‘I don’t work to an inner manifesto but I suppose that, in my operatic writing, I am always exploring something about where the boundaries of opera are, opera and theatre. I’m trying to reclaim the art form for a broader audience.’ He is currently reclaiming on all sides.

There are many who might consider it an absolute crime that someone who would look so entirely delectable in a dirndl is instead about to hit the stage of the London Palladium draped from head to toe in a habit and wimple. Lesley Garrett, however, is so thrilled that she can barely contain herself. Other small girls growing up — as millions of us did — with the film of The Sound of Music spooling like an ever-present backing track to our lives might have felt a particular affinity with the rebellious Maria, the confused teenage Liesl or even the obnoxiously winsome Gretl. Not Lesley. Was she surprised to be asked to take on the role of the Mother Abbess? ‘I wasn’t asked — I volunteered.

This year is Opera Holland Park’s tenth anniversary season, and to my great shame I have never attended a performance, despite having had the best intentions of doing so for roughly the past ten years. If I don’t turn up this summer, I get the feeling I’ll be in serious trouble with the two men who were sitting on the other side of the lunch table from me a few days ago, Michael Volpe and James Clutton. At least I will be if I survive the fusillade of their rattle-attack enthusiasm without slumping into my salad, lethally punctured by a hail of conversational bullets.