Der Rosenkavalier review: A joy to the ears and a feast for the eyes 

Hats off, a triumph: Richard Strauss’s Der Rosenkavalier at Garsington Opera is a joy to the ears and a feast for the eyes

Der Rosenkavalier

Garsington Opera, Bucks                                                                          Until July 3

Rating:

Hats off, a triumph. This Rosenkavalier is not only a tribute to the standards now achievable by the best of country house opera, but also to their resilience. Garsington is back with a show that’s a joy to the ears, and a feast for the eyes.

Obviously it’s not perfect. But Richard Strauss and Hugo von Hofmannsthal’s whipped cream-covered, liqueur-soaked confection emerges as the glorious piece of escapism its creators always intended.

The world of the Marschallin, her teenage lover Octavian, and his new intended Sophie was never about reality, but nostalgia. Too many directors these days drag a kitchen sink centre stage. 

The three sopranos who dominate the show are exceptionally well cast. Miah Persson oozes vocal class as the Marschallin. But she also looks stunning in a canary yellow Dior-type number

The three sopranos who dominate the show are exceptionally well cast. Miah Persson oozes vocal class as the Marschallin. But she also looks stunning in a canary yellow Dior-type number

The director here, Bruno Ravella, and his designer Gary McCann do the exact opposite. They wallow in the glamour, with opulent sets that could have been made for a Busby Berkeley musical.

The three sopranos who dominate the show are exceptionally well cast. Miah Persson oozes vocal class as the Marschallin. But she also looks stunning in a canary yellow Dior-type number that perfectly illustrates there’s nothing cheap about this production. 

Hanna Hipp and Madison Leonard as the young lovers do well to stop Persson stealing the show. Derrick Ballard as Ochs has more of a struggle in the role of a swine, a real pig of a part. But he gets by.

Strauss and Hofmannsthal’s magic was to create a Mozartian comedy of manners employing the music of their own time. Those gorgeous Viennese waltzes that somehow never sound anachronistic. 

And beautifully played here by a slimmed-down Philharmonia, probably for the first time since the orchestra recorded it with Karajan.

The young Canadian conductor, Jordan de Souza struggles a bit at first, but ends up phrasing like a master.

The black page boy is replaced by an impish lad in 18th Century finery – either Cupid, or maybe the boy Mozart – who reminds us that it’s all just entertainment. Glorious froth rarely equalled in the history of opera.