(Photo: Patricio Cassinoni)

History has not been kind to Charles Villiers Stanford’s reputation as an opera composer. During his lifetime he wrote nine complete operas, which, apart from his comic opera “Seamus O’Brien,” was met with limited success. Today, they are rarely performed, and none have found their way into the mainstream repertoire. In 2019, the Wexford Festival Opera produced a concert performance of his first opera, “The Veiled Prophet,” from 1877, which, although by no means a runaway success, did enough to suggest that further exploration of his operas would be a worthwhile enterprise.

To mark the hundredth anniversary of the Dublin-born composer’s death, the festival decided to stage a production of his eighth opera, “The Critic,” which premiered in 1916 at London’s Shaftesbury Theatre. It proved to be an excellent choice.

An Opera Within an Opera

Adapted by Lewis Cairns James from Richard Brindley Sheridan’s satirical play of the same name, “The Critic” pokes fun at operatic conventions. Its narrative is centered on the rehearsal of an opera called “The Spanish Armada,” which celebrates England’s victory over the Spanish. It is supposed to be a serious work, and Stanford insisted it should be played as such, but the narrative’s focus on the genre’s conventions and behaviour typically associated with opera singers turned it into an amusing romp, with the characters’ pompous self-importance acting as the main driver.

It also helped that Sheridan’s adapted libretto was wonderfully bad. The librettist and impresario, Mr. Puff, and the composer, Mr. Dangle, are joined by the critic, Mr. Sneer, for the rehearsal; all are spoken roles as they do not appear in “The Spanish Armada.” They do, however, make frequent interruptions to the performance, particularly Mr. Puff, offering their opinions, raging at singers who forget their lines, correcting mistakes, and demanding that the singers repeat sections, often with hilarious results. When the Spaniard, Whiskerandos, is killed in a duel, for example, Mr. Puff demands a repeat, and then another and another. Whiskerandos eventually leaves the stage in frustration, leaving the other singer to act out the scene without him, who had to sing at an empty space on the floor. The singers also challenged Mr. Puff, as in the case of a very minor character who, after Mr. Puff has just rearranged the scenery, demands to know, while chewing on an apple, how she is supposed to exit the stage.

There was a laboured subplot, in which the justices sat discussing the parentage of an orphan, which had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with the rest of the narrative, but as Mr. Puff explained, opera has to have a subplot! Of course, there also has to be a love interest, even in a historical drama, which eventually led to an obligatory mad scene for Tiburnia, who, having lost Whiskerandos, the love of her life, lost her mind; as it was a rehearsal, the singer was looking somewhat distracted, even bored, before the aria, but immediately adopted the necessary exaggerated poses one associates with mad scenes, then returned to a disinterested state as soon as she finished it. Then, there was Lord Burleigh, a silent role, whose only reason for being present was to slowly meander off the stage to the sound of a pleasing violin solo; however, it went on longer than he expected, and so he had to keep retracing his steps. And so it continued.

The director Conor Hanratty and his team, comprising set designer John Comiskey and costume designer Massimo Carlotto, did a fabulous job in bringing the opera to the stage. The neatly crafted sets were designed to reflect both the 18th century, the period in which “The Critic” takes place, and also the year of the Spanish Armada, 1588. The opening scene is set in an 18th century theatre with Mr. Puff and the team dressed in the fashions of the period, with Mr. Puff himself ostentatiously dressed in fancy shoes, white stockings, breeches, a fancy waistcoat topped with a periwig and carrying a cane, while the cast walked around in Tudor dress. As “The Spanish Armada” moves forward, the scenery changes according to the location as described in the narrative. One of the highpoints of the opera is the sea battle between the English and the Spanish fleets, and one did wonder as to how this could be presented in a meaningful yet visually acceptable manner.

Hanratty, however, conceived a brilliant solution that was not only visually engaging but also highly amusing. Billowing sheets moving up and down in rows across the stage created the effect of a sea, while in between them, men walked onto the stage in period costume with hats on top of which stood fairly large model ships. Their choreographed movements had them moving slowly and gracefully in lines, occasionally facing each other. It conjured up an abstract image of a sea battle, yet it was so obviously nonsense that it also had people laughing.

Hanratty’s handling of the characters and the scenes was focused mainly on the comedy; he never let a chance slip by without ensuring any potential was fully exploited while sticking closely, albeit not rigidly, to Standford’s advice to play it seriously, and it worked well. As one would expect when dealing with conventions and traditional images of theatrical types, the characters were, by and large, drawn with bold strokes to fit the stereotype.

An Amusingly Serious Score

Stanford treated the opera as a serious piece of drama, with his music seeking to portray the characters’ emotions and acting as a support for the narrative, as if he were dealing with a deep, meaningful, high-quality libretto. There was rarely any overt sense of mockery or comedy; rather, it was beautiful, serious music, but set against the onstage absurdities it successfully added to the amusement. He also took the opportunity to add frequent musical quotations from a variety of composers, including among others Beethoven, Parry and Verdi, as well as his own song “Drake’s Drum,” allowing the audience to engage in a game of ‘spot the composer.’ Yet, the score never descended into froth or superficiality; the music was sensitively developed, replete with luxuriant textures using an interesting array of instrumentation. There were pleasing melodies, which were often quite beautiful in parts, such as the intermezzo during which the sea battle took place and a beautiful viola concertante.

The conductor, Ciaran McCauley, produced a fine performance from the Wexford Festival Opera, capturing the scores attractive colours and pleasing melodies. He managed the pace very sensitively to keep the music in harmony with the onstage momentum, which, although supporting the comedy, did not actively seek to be amusing. It was a reading with a warmth that enveloped the performance, one that made you feel comfortable and at ease.

The cast combined well to produce an enthusiastic and energetic performance that embraced the spirit of the work. Soprano Ava Dodd, in particular, captured the attention with her lively and beautiful singing in the role of Tiburnia, which she supported with an amusing and bold acting performance, characterizing her as aloof, bored and self-important. Her essaying of the fairly simple mad scene proved to be one of the singing highlights of the evening, giving her the opportunity to show off her tonal beauty and the ability to fashion detailed lines while convincingly drawing attention to her emotional detachment from the performance.

The love of her life, Feroro Whiskerandos, was portrayed as an elegant Spanish dandy by tenor Dane Suarez, who took up suitably ridiculous postures to set himself apart from the more mundane English. He possesses a resonant, secure voice, which he furnished with an exaggerated passion to emphasise his feelings.

Her father, the Governor of Tilbury, was played by bass Rory Dunne, who also performed the part of the justice in the subplot. Both roles were neatly managed to draw out the comedy.

Baritone Ben McAteer produced a strong reading as Sir Walter Raleigh, in which his vocal agility, colouring and secure phrasing impressed. His companion in arms, Christopher Hatton, played by tenor Oliver Johnston, was equally successful and together made an amusing pairing.

Baritone Gyula Nagy possesses an attractive voice, which he used to good effect in characterising the Earl of Leicester. He also rolled easily with the ludicrous scene in which he was forced to repeat his lines to the empty space vacated by Whiskerandos.

The singing cast was completed with fine performances from bass-baritone Meilir Jones in the roles of Master of the Horse and a constable, soprano Hannah O’Brien and mezzo-soprano Carolyn Holt as the nieces.

Polished Performances from Non-singing Actors

The real star of the evening was Mark Lambert, whose larger-than-life portrayal of the impresario and librettist Mr. Puff kept the opera moving along. Any hint at a slackening of interest was taken up by a well-timed and well-expressed interjection that always led to laughter from the audience or onstage conflict, and usually both, which were added to by Mr. Dangle’s observations, played by Jonathan White. The critic Mr. Sneer, played by Arthur Riordan, also joined the fray, adding oil to the fire by pointing out the opera’s failings.

Tony Brennan, in the minor role of Lord Burleigh, will be remembered for his very funny meandering exit from the stage.

Overall, “The Critic” proved itself to be a quality piece of theatre that is guaranteed to keep an audience entertained and can be counted as yet another success in Wexford Festival Opera’s mission to restore the reputation of unjustly neglected works.