Jenufa / Nabucco (Opera Holland Park)

Opera Holland Park have a new theatre - and you might think on reading their publicity material for this season that the arrival of a bigger, whiter and apparently more comfortable tent in W8 is more exciting than the business of what's scheduled for its stage. Perhaps the operas speak for themselves in the context of publicity; this year's fascinating line-up opened with two masterpieces which on the surface couldn't be more different: Janacek's baby-killing psycho-drama Jenufa, and Verdi's biblical romp Nabucco. 

The former work is so packed with piercing drama that it requires both sensitivity to maintain its essentially conciliatory dramatic point and also intense energy for those half-dozen moments where Janacek screams pain and grating human truths through his music. That's not easily done in a tent, when the cast can't rely on lighting or effects to match the often terrifyingly vivid music, and where extraneous noise (from birdsong to joggers) can puncture the moments of equally unsettling stillness and loneliness. But this production punched above its weight in that respect, even if it did save the most effective dramatic gestures for the last act (there's plenty of scintillating drama pre-interval -'Laca, you did it to her on purpose').

After the Act III revelation that the latter has drowned the former's child, Jenufa reached out to her step-mother - their hands almost touching in forgiveness, but somehow not able to make contact; an electrifying moment, perfectly conceived for the dramatically demanding Holland Park auditorium. Director Olivia Fuchs thrust the Kostelnycka and Laca into the foreground as the vulnerable villains, and she had two great talents to turn to: Tom Randle captured the somewhat pathetic Laca, a beautiful melancholy shot through his rich but delicate voice, whilst Anne Mason's driven, deranged and rapidly descending Kostelnycka was reminiscent of Kathryn Harries's performance in Glyndebourne's benchmark 2004 production by Nikolaus Lenhoff. During the twists and turns of the final act, which journeys from comedy to the most acute human pain, this production conjured something special - stemming largely from Randle and Mason - which silenced even the birds and the aeroplanes; suddenly the comfort of the tent wasn't important.    

Despite effective no-nonsense conducting from Stuart Stratford - a conductor of considerable technique - there was some sloppiness from the City of London Sinfonia in the pit (the opening xylophone passage may be perilously tricky, but it's not supposed to sound so). The ensemble seemed underpowered come some of the big moments, but Stratford dealt well with a small band in a noisy room, highlighting and emphasising wherever possible. The chorus was a delightful surprise: a disciplined and dramatically aware confection of young singers which performed with style and an ensemble quality that can prove elusive on St Martin's Lane and in Covent Garden. 

In Nabucco the Orchestra faired rather better - revealing impressive detail in the score despite some breakneck tempi from another efficient conductor, Brad Cohen. The chorus was exemplary again, but its members did have proximity to assist them; penned like sheep for most of the evening, which weakened the dramaturgy of their Part III chorus, though it was sung with extraordinary sensitivity and shape (they are OHP's crown jewells, but no chorus master was listed in the programme).

Though this was an attractive production, the dramatic ideas couldn't run the course. It opened with the classic 'twentieth-century exile' imagery of unaccompanied suitcases, and lurched into a somewhat messy view of Nabucco's forces as a tortuous circus troupe - like a nightmare vision of an Arts Council-enforced circus skills project for immigrant groups. Thus Nabucco's descent into madness had already been debased, and his repentance at the opera's conclusion seemed concurrently obvious and meaningless. There was derivative and cliched acting on offer too, from both the singing cast and the hired acrobats who seemed always in the way.

Andrew Rees as Ismaele shone above the rest of the cast, and credit is also due to Yannis Thavoris for effective and versatile designs. But overall this was a production that struggled for attention in the tent. So in a sense there was the opportunity to get excited about the extra seat padding trumpeted in the brochure - that, at least, didn't disappoint.   

Andrew Mellor