L’elisir d’amore, Royal Opera House, review: Vittorio Grigolo and Lucy Crowe triumph
But Bryn Terfel disappoints
Your support helps us to tell the story
From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.
At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.
The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.
Your support makes all the difference.There are many ways in which Donizetti’s send-up of the love-potion idea in Tristan can work its spell.
And by setting it in the provincial Italy of Fellini’s Amarcord, Laurent Pelly and Chantal Thomas have created one of the most delectable. Covent Garden has fielded an interesting new team of soloists for its third revival of this much-loved show, with Lucy Crowe bringing a peachy fullness of tone – and irresistible flirtatiousness – to her exquisitely-sung Adina, and Vittorio Grigolo proving dream casting as the love-sick Nemorino. This Italian tenor is not merely a superb bel cantist: in best commedia dell’arte tradition, he uses his voice and rag-doll limbs to hilariously comic effect.
But the big question was how Bryn Terfel would incarnate the quack doctor Dulcamara. The answer was surprisingly disappointing: Terfel’s characterisation was contrived, crude, and colourless, and there was more comedy in the chorus than we got from him. Dulcamara must be larger than life, or he is nothing; Bryn reduced him to ordinariness.
No matter: in every other respect, from Levente Molnar’s swaggering Belcore to the little dog which keeps belting across the stage, this remains a knockout evening. (One assumes Daniele Rustioni will learn to synchronise chorus and orchestra better than he did on opening night.)
Join our commenting forum
Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies
Comments