A house on the Strait of Hormuz is one of the two alternating locations in Grétry’s Zémire et Azor.  Wisely, though he favoured modern dress in his production, Jeremy Gray did not attempt to impose geopolitics on this charming take on Beauty and the Beast.  The rest of the opera takes place in the ‘fairy palace’ where Azor, the Beast, seeks to ingratiate himself with the lovely and brave Zémire.  In the high-ceilinged dining hall of Cokethorpe School - a new venue for Bampton Classical Opera after nearly 40 productions - each location occupied its own small stage and the conductor, Andrew Griffiths, and 17 instrumentalists were flanked by the scenic action.  Azor’s taste seemed to run to glossy contemporary chic, but the dominant feature of his home was a large video screen.  Initially, it displayed decorative Middle Eastern motifs and in Act 3 it conjured up the ‘magic picture’ (a theatrical effect admired by Marie Antionette when she saw the opera) that Azor uses to show Zémire her faraway family.

Zémire et Azor was first staged in 1771 as a comédie-ballet with dialogue.  Five years later, an Italian adaptation, Zemira e Azor, was presented in Mannheim with recitatives by Ignaz Holzbauer and additional arias by Niccolò Jommelli.  It was this version, revived at Schwetzingen in 2023, that Bampton Classical Opera chose to use, translated into lucid and lively English by Gilly French, Jeremy Gray’s co-artistic director.  The most celebrated number is the avian showpiece, with flute obbligato, that Zémire sings to delight Azor in Act 3.  Here, depicting a winged warbler with paint in addition to words and music, Ffion Edwards performed it with sweetness, grace and pinpoint precision.  Over its four acts the opera offers a satisfying variety of arias and ensembles, sensitive to the specificities of situation and emotion.  The sombre reflections of Zémire’s father Sander (here Sandro) made a particular impact, though Samuel Pantcheff’s sonorous distinction did not preclude a lightness of touch elsewhere.  Portraying his servant Alì with physical agility and vocal acuity, Andrew Irwin displayed hair’s breadth comic judgment, and his two ‘wicked’ daughters – allotted one big solo moment each – were sharply profiled by Siân Dicker (Fatmé/Fatima), who added a glint of polished steel to her vibrant line, and Rachel Roper, whose dark, dappled mezzo lent allure to the more reticent Lisbé (Lesbia).  On each of his appearances Gwilym Bowen, singing with both searing intensity and beguiling flexibility, ensured that, despite his hairy, clawed hands, ram’s horns and matted, bleached lock, the audience could sense the loving man behind Azor’s monstrous mask.

The modern instruments of the small orchestra sounded gratifyingly rich and rounded, and the inventiveness of Grétry’s wind writing – which includes ‘magical’ offstage effects – shone out.  Through an interpretation informed as much by disciplined energy as by elegance, Andrew Griffiths joined in recounting a fairy tale that cast its enchantment with no hint of preciosity.

Back in 2012 Bampton Classical Opera, with its unique sparkle, brio and zest, staged L’Amant jaloux, a comic opera by the composer André-Ernest-Modeste Grétry which was a big hit in its day.

Bampton’s productions – playful, cheeky, ribald, impish, unpredictable - are invariably a triumph. This year for the first time they decamped to Cokethorpe School, near Witney, also in Oxfordshire. There are vast lawns for picnicking. The indoor acoustic, strikingly impressive, proved incredibly effective: in fact, ideal.

Also, with their typical flair, Bampton have returned to Grétry. Zemira e Azor (1771) is a famously poignant treatment of the Beauty and the Beast fairy tale, which soared into fashion in the mid-18th century.

The popular story: a well-to-do Persian prince has been, for a marginal offence (the plucking of a flower), transformed into a hideous, raving beast. His only hope of recovery is if a courageous young maiden will take pity and pardon him for his offence.

Which, of course, is what happens. Thanks to their expert conductor, Andrew Griffiths, one remarkable characteristic shone through: there are hints here that intriguingly anticipate aspects of The Magic Flute. (Papageno not least). His orchestra delivered enchantingly. The strings here, especially with paired flutes, plus astute touches of bassoon and vividly zippy horns, were of remarkable quality. So too was the supporting harpsichord of Alex Norton: unremittingly eloquent and finessed.

Countless works have been restored to life by Jeremy Gray’s irrepressible direction and Gilly French’s wickedly hilarious translations, both essential ingredients of Bampton’s deliberately naughty, irresistible house style. To these must be added the wonderfully arresting images and backdrops Gray devised, a kind of wonderland for the entranced Zemira, matching the arias and bringing the story vividly to life.    

If the opera’s shining delight was, predictably, Ffion Edwards as the delicious Zemira, the charming youngest sister who resolutely refuses to reject or judge the Beast, but loyally adopts him, the comedy took off with a realistic storm and tenor Andrew Irwin’s impudent, buoyant servant Ali (marvellous diction), who then hands over to the Zemira’s ludicrous father, a well-to-do widowed merchant (here the superb, ringing bass Samuel Pantcheff) – and his two older daughters - shades of Cinderella’s ugly sisters (the bumptious Fatima, Siân Dicker and Lesbia, Rachel Roper, each of whom shines in an unexpectedly riveting, soaring aria in the later stages). A handful of slick, well-turned ensembles – fretful family trios and well-turned quartets as well as duets – helped guarantee the consistent quality of both the music and enliven the script, artfully contrived by Grétry’s first-rate (and frequent) librettist Jean-François Marmontel (1723-99).         

If the most entrancing touches are reserved for the sweet youthful Zemira, moving amidst enticing sets, arguably the most touching and expressive music – particularly recitative, alternated with aria and several breathtaking duets – Grétry reserves for ‘The Beast’, the cruelly, unfairly transformed Prince Azor. Engulfed in a menacing headdress and unnerving animal-like outfit, Gwilym Bowen’s intense, forceful delivery, offsetting edgy, tragic, anguished, explosive with delightfully soothing, plus equally reaching into impressive upper tessitura, made their encounters all the more moving.   

Everything about Zemira e Azor proved the wisdom and shrewdness of Bampton’s choice – capturing the remarkable degree to which Grétry’s astute scoring and clever dramatic sense look ahead to the early Romantics – marking this out as easily one of their best.

You don’t have to be among the cognoscenti of the writings of Carl Gustav Jung to be familiar with two of his most important concepts: the collective unconscious with its layering of inherited memories and ancestral experiences, as well as the dominance of archetypes that shape human behaviour and inhabit both fictional and virtual life. Most of us grow up with these ideas, since they are part and parcel of the vast wealth of fairy tales. Amongst the oldest of them, in a tradition, originally simply oral in nature, stretching back some four thousand years, is Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot’s 1740 moral parable, La Belle et la Bête (Beauty and the Beast). This provided the composer André Grétry, in an original French libretto by Jean-François Marmontel, with the basis for his opera-comique Zémire et Azor. Later, with additional musical material from Niccolò Jomelli and Ignaz Holzbauer, it became the Italian-language Zemira e Azor. This summer, Bampton Classical Opera has been presenting, in a translation by Gilly French and Jeremy Gray, an iteration in the vernacular. It continues a pattern established in 1993 of this company performing lesser-known works by both familiar and unfamiliar composers. As such, their work complements that of the “country-house opera” or “summer opera” of a good many smaller companies such as Longborough, Grange Park and Garsington. Together, they demonstrate that though the political classes of the United Kingdom show little or no regard for cultural heritage, and even less for maintaining established opera companies, the will to devise something entertaining, and perform it often on shoestring budgets, yet at a high level of professionalism, has not diminished.

As if to underline the universality of the original fairy tale, this production is set near the Strait of Hormuz (what could be more topical?) where the trader Sandro has suffered the torment of losing his fleet of vessels in a storm. At the other end of the social scale is the Persian prince Azor, whose beautiful mind and body have been given a twisted and hideous shape by a wicked spirit whose path he once crossed. This “Beast” is now condemned to suffer a life of solitude, with only his magical powers to fall back on, unless he manages to win the love of a virtuous girl. The Beast needs to demonstrate Beastliness, of course. When Sandro plucks a rose from a bush, intended as a gift for the youngest of his three daughters (the number three is always magical in fairy tales), he is confronted by Azor, who condemns him to die for his theft, unless he is prepared to send one of his daughters as a sacrifice. That is the core dilemma which spurs on the action.

There is no need for complicated sets. In this staging there was a split on the left between Azor’s palace, with an ornate chair as makeshift throne, small tables, a panel of Islamic tiling on the back wall, an oriental rug and floor cushions to represent opulence, and on the right the simple homely character of Sandro’s abode, enhanced by the slogan “Home Sweet Home” on a corresponding back panel. These two panels also served as projection screens for the clever visuals that included scenes of an angry sea and raging storm, clouds that transported Zemira through the air, a plate of enticing food to welcome Sandro and his servant Ali after their misfortune at sea, the setting sun over a bleak desert, and acted as a “magic mirror” enabling Zemira to see her family back home while she is in Azor’s palace.

The costumes struck me as an acquired taste. Unlike the dishevelled appearance I had expected, Sandro had all the air of a lounge lizard, dressed in a double-breasted white suit with a very pale pin-stripe, complete with pocket square. Ali could almost be your local window-cleaner, in white dungarees with attached rubber gloves and a matching baseball cap. Fatima, the eldest daughter, clearly thinks her word is law, and to underline her assertiveness here sported a leopard print top and matching shoes. The second daughter Lesbia looked like a tomboy with net stockings and bovver boots; simplicity itself defined the heroine Zemira in a floral dress. Allusions to the Ugly Sisters and Cinderella could scarcely be overlooked. For Azor himself a dark gown topped by a ram’s head, with hypertrichosis much in evidence, spoiled only by the open sandals, plus a thick wooden staff to lean on, were sufficient to conjure up the image of a monster. The bright yellow rain jackets initially worn by Sandro and Ali made the role of the inclement weather abundantly clear.

The music was in the hands of the sixteen-member Chroma, directed from the centre of the stage by Andrew Griffiths. At times the strings sounded a little underpowered, but the textures were kept nicely transparent with buoyant rhythms and spirited playing. Grétry may not have written a succession of showstopping arias, and the melodic invention is merely average, but there is an abundance of gentle charm, and in episodes of heightened emotional temperature the music takes off at a cracking pace. What is characteristic are the many coloratura passages with highly embellished phrasing, which took the attention away from the rather unimaginative English text. Rhymes were a little trite (pleasure/treasure; snugly/ugly; shaking/quaking), and the repetition of individual lines, though they are typical of fairy tales in general, such as Ali’s “Perhaps we should go home” and Azor’s “Remember I am stronger”, became somewhat tedious. His Act 2 self-introduction to Zemira (“I know I look beastly”) was decidedly twee. I couldn’t help feeling that unlike French and Italian, English words, at least in this version, never carried much emotional weight: when sung quickly the word “anguish” with its lack of open vowels had too little intensity.

What distinguishes this production is the absence of the fussy aspects of Regietheater. There is no need for constant head-scratching about hidden meanings or the ideologically driven whims of some directors. Jeremy Gray’s staging makes all the connections clear through strong characterisation and the plethora of small details: Fatima, for instance, buries her head in a girly magazine called “Seventeen” and Zemira demonstrates her artistic skills in a painter’s smock with palette and brushes. There are baskets filled with roses. Andrew Irwin played Ali for laughs, displaying a relish for slapstick, and he had arguably the most expressive face of all the cast members. On Sandro’s return home, Zemira is the only one of his daughters who consoles her father on hearing about his sequence of misfortunes, and in her empathetic treatment of the role Ffion Edwards called to mind the genuinely caring Cordelia in Shakespeare’s King Lear. Meanwhile Fatima, a penchant to Goneril, was entirely self-absorbed and in Siân Dicker’s robust portrayal frequently wallowed in self-pity. Rachel Roper’s Lesbia was quite obviously easily led, both by the fashions of the day, and by the browbeating of her dominant sister Fatima. Use is made of the upper gallery of the old St John’s Church for appearances both by Azor and Zemira.

As so often with ensemble productions of this nature, and certainly in the case of Bampton Classical Opera, the singing was uniformly fine. Samuel Pantcheff in the role of Sandro was a dominant presence on stage and anchored the production with his warmly vibrant singing. His powerful baritone was heard to good effect in his Act 1 aria in which he bemoans his lost fortune and “cruel fate”, and the depth of plaintiveness he displays in Act 2 when, accompanied by mellifluous flutes and strings, he writes a farewell letter (“Never forget me”) to his daughters, was genuinely affecting. Irwin’s singing as Ali of his Act 2 aria, accompanied only by the harpsichord, detailing a kind of night terror he experienced at his recollection of the encounter with the monster, revealed all the expressive qualities of his tenor voice.

Vocally impressive was Gwilym Bowen as Azor. He has a powerful tenor voice with ringing tones in his high register, suitably heroic, not least in his Act 3 aria, delivered from the upper gallery, in which he laid bare all the torment he felt at being transformed into a repulsive creature. Even while hobbling and limping around the stage, he commanded attention. The only slight weakness I was able to identify was his tendency to press out individual notes rather than allowing an unimpeded legato to proceed.

Edwards served the role of Zemira equally well. Hers is a bright-toned, light and lyrical soprano, heard to dazzling effect in the most famous element of this opera, “La fauvette” (= the warbler), where in parallel with an obbligato part for solo flute, she pours out a stream of coloratura that mimics a singing bird. She was singularly touching in Act 4 on her return to Azor’s palace when, believing him to be dead, she declares her love for him in a lovely aria graced with horn and woodwind ornamentation. Finely balanced ensemble qualities were present in the Act 4 quartet, in which Edwards’s Zemira was joined by the full-bodied mezzo-soprano voice of Dicker’s Fatima, the fresher tones of Roper’s Lesbia and the warmth of Pantcheff’s Sandro.
Acting as a celebrant in the wedding nuptials of Zemira to Azor at the very end, Ali declares in time-honoured fashion, “May you live happily ever after”. That is one of the structural functions of the fairy tale, restoring order and justice at the end of a troubled and turbulent journey. On the way the characters have learned to confront and cope with fear, to understand and respect moral boundaries, and to be receptive to positive values that define a good human being such as kindness and honesty. Recognisable antipodes like love and loss, desire and death, riches and ruin form the thematic underpinning. Which leaves only one conundrum not resolved in this production: what was the begetting sin that caused Prince Azor to be transformed into the Beast? Something to ponder. 

Although André Ernest Modeste Grétry’s operas enjoy few outings today, many were extremely popular in the 18th century, while in the 1950s Thomas Beecham claimed that he found in the composer’s work ‘a lightness, a grace and a melodic invention surpassed only by Mozart’. Bampton Classical Opera, which specialises in bringing operatic rarities to public attention once more, has been performing Grétry’s Zemira e Azor across Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire this summer, and for its final outing has just taken it to Smith Square Hall in London.

Grétry came from the Prince-Bishopric of Liège, and this opéra comique, described as a comédie-ballet mêlée de chants et de danses, was first performed in Fontainebleau and then central Paris in 1771 to a libretto by Jean-François Marmontel. In 1776 an Italian language adaptation, with librettist Mattia Verazi, was created, which premiered in Mannheim. This replaced the spoken dialogue with recitative composed by Ignaz Holzbauer, and added music by the recently deceased Niccolò Jommelli.

The story is that of Beauty and the Beast, and was predominantly based on two versions of it that had been created by Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve in 1740 and Jeanne-Marie Leprince de Beaumont in 1756. The opera is entitled Zémire et Azor, its original French language name, purely because Pierre-Claude Nivelle de La Chaussée’s verse play Amour pour amour of 1742 had contained characters with those names. Grétry wanted to cash in on its popularity by calling Beauty Zémire and the Beast Azor, even though the characters had no real link to those in the play.

The opera is told across four acts and both its music and special effects – which included a passenger-carrying cloud – ensured it was extremely popular. Marie Antoinette claimed she could not sleep after being struck by the scene in which Zémire saw and heard her family through the mirror, and Catherine the Great named her dog Zemira after the work had spread to Russia.

Bampton Classical Opera decided to perform the 1776 version, and this seemed a wise choice for several reasons. The recitative is often accompagnati and, by being so engaging, it clearly brings an extra dimension to the experience, as one could picture a version featuring spoken text feeling a lot more stilted. Grétry’s music is certainly beautiful and accomplished, and the relatively light and pictorial style in which the transparent scoring relies on subtle colour variations, is very much what makes it. Nevertheless, the act of hearing it alongside Jommelli’s more serious and expressive writing that features wider-ranging vocal lines, would appear to lift both. The Jommelli additions also lead to Zemira’s two older sisters being given larger parts, which helps to reveal their own characters.

This production used an English translation of the Italian version by Gilly French and the director Jeremy Gray, which was very slick and smooth. With David Hudd and Keith Farr being responsible for the visuals, the set was dominated by two walls, each with a screen in it. One represented Azor’s palace – with its default screen image being an intricate Islamic pattern (Azor is a Persian Prince) – while the other revealed Zemira’s father Sandro’s house complete with a ‘Home Sweet Home’ sampler on the screen. When the action occurred in one of the two spaces the images there changed to reveal storms, food and roses, all of which are key components of the plot, while in the other the default image remained static and turned to black and white.

The setting was the 1980s as Zemira’s sisters Fatima and Lesbia read the magazine Just Seventeen. Both were far more interested in money than Zemira, though their differing choices of clothes – courtesy of Pauline Smith and Anne Baldwin – suggested that popular fashions were ultimately as expensive as elite ones. At night Fatima wore a silk dressing gown, and Lesbia a furry onesie with pandas on it. By day, refined clothes on one sister contrasted with streaked red hair, leather jacket, short tartan skirt and pink fishnet tights on the other.

When Zemira arrived at Azor’s palace the screen there revealed various views and images of it. As these included some opera house interiors, they could not all have literally been of the same building, but they suggested what this palace could be, in the same way as the screen showed Azor in his handsome form and thus revealed the ideal. Azor himself wore a horned mask that covered the top half of his face, so that he was not made to look particularly grotesque – in keeping, it seems, with depictions in many early productions.

The opera includes a scene in which Zemira looks in a mirror and sees and hears her family. In the 18th century the three singers would have been behind a gauze screen with their own lighting (from candles) and offstage orchestra, and many reports suggest that the effect was wondrous. Here Sandro and Zemira’s sisters sang from their house, while a camera filmed them so that Zemira could see them on the screen in the palace. With the audience thus seeing the family twice – though larger in one instance – this created a pleasing visual asymmetry. Despite there only being one performance in Smith Square Hall, the planning was superb as singing from the balcony, from behind the set and from the auditorium all worked extremely well.

The 17-strong CHROMA ensemble, under the baton of Andrew Griffiths, sounded splendid, while from among the strong cast several performances stood out in particular. As Zemira, Ffion Edwards produced some extremely beautiful sounds, especially in ‘Like the songbird, her homely nest is keeping’, where the coloratura is designed to imitate birdsong. As Azor, Gwilym Bowen’s tenor combined a certain purity with enough force to convey the anguish and frustration of a Prince trapped in a beastly form. As Sandro, Samuel Pantcheff’s baritone had a notably warm and easy quality, Siân Dicker revealed a persuasive soprano as Fatima and Rachel Roper an intriguing mezzo-soprano as Lesbia. Andrew Irwin played Sandro’s servant Alì – and a Fairy in the final scene – and made it clear how the character can be seen as a forerunner to Papageno, as from the very start of the first scene he showed a penchant for taking the easy way out.
 

This year’s offering by Bampton Classical Opera – Grétry’s Zemira e Azor – could almost be an allegory for the present situation in Iran, albeit that in this version of the Beauty and the Beast story, partly set in the Strait of Hormuz, Azor is a cursed prince of Persia, not an orange-coloured monster of the West. The story doesn’t seem entirely true to life in 2026 however, in that Azor is redeemed by Zemira’s love because she recognises an underlying nobility and dignity behind his bestial appearance. Although the fate of nations and the world economy are not at stake in the opera, the predicament of Azor’s curse is such that when the shipwrecked merchant of Hormuz, Sandro, approaches the prince’s palace and plucks a rose for his daughter Zemira, he must pay for that indiscretion either with his own life or with that of any of his three daughters who will stand as the sacrifice in his place. It is Zemira who takes up the challenge, instead of her two more streetwise, utilitarian sisters Fatima or Lesbia.

Mixed in with the story are certain elements of other fairy tales or legends, such as Zemira’s less than sympathetic pair of sisters like the wicked stepsisters of Cinderella; and the theme of Azor languishing under a curse until the love of a virtuous woman redeems him is akin to the story that inspired Wagner’s The Flying Dutchman. Jeremy Gray’s production, set in contemporary times, happens to draw an affinity with the latter since, like Senta who is fixated by the image and idea of the wandering Dutchman before he actually arrives, Zemira and her sisters contemplate a pop-up book of the fairy tale of ‘Beauty and the Beast’, as though the template which prepares Zemira for her future destiny. They inhabit a primly proper home at one side of the stage, contrasting with Azor’s palace at the other, where the blue floral patterns of Ottoman Iznik tiles and pottery allude in general terms to the opera’s Middle Eastern (even if not specifically Persian) setting; and a feast of dried fruit and nuts is laid out.

Orientalist representations are otherwise helpfully avoided, and Azor’s power of magically conjuring up images of Sandro’s home to the merchant and Zemira in turn is successfully rendered by means of rational 21st century technology by way of video projections on screens, where other visual displays also enhance other aspects of the drama beyond the set physically laid out on stage. That all works effectively in an opera which, despite the fantastical elements and the alternation of distant locations, bears essentially the same domestic character as any other 18th century opéra comique or opera buffa.

The performers give a spirited account of a lively work whose music is more Italian in style than French, although this later version with sung recitatives (rather than the spoken text of the 1771 French original) and some interpolations by Jommelli and Holzbauer help. Nevertheless, among Grétry’s original numbers is the striking Act Three coloratura aria ‘La fauvette’ in which birds are imitated in the obbligato flute part and long florid cadenza for the voice – one wonders whether Mozart had this virtuoso aria in mind when writing ‘Martern aller Arten’ in The Abduction from the Seraglio. Ffion Edwards delivers it with a fine balance between agility and levity, not overwhelming the music with excessive force, but registering as a sudden, vivid expression of passion on the part of Zemira. That registers as such, even after the arresting opening scene of the same Act, in which Azor soliloquises on his dual nature – as civilised human and untamed beast – in a gripping sequence of accompanied recitative and aria that bears all the hallmarks of the Sturm und Drang. Gwilym Bowen ably conveys the character’s frustration in being torn between loving tenderness and bestial rage.

Despite Sandro’s desperate situation, Samuel Pantcheff plays the part equably, while Andrew Irwin is much more voluble and volatile as his servant Alì, in the typical strain of such characters in 18th century comedies. Irwin doubles up as the fairy at the conclusion when the curse on Azor is lifted. As the two sisters, Siân Dicker and Rachel Roper are an impish pair, the former showing a harder edge than the more nobly forbearing Zemira.

Andrew Griffiths leads the Orchestra of Bampton Classical Orchestra in an alert performance where strings are to the fore, but they create some varied and lustrous textures despite their small numbers, for instance in the airborne suspensions as Sandro and Alì are flown home on clouds at the end of Act One. Horns add notable colour to the odd other number, and Alex Norton provides dependable support on the harpsichord. Bampton have unearthed another rarity from the large pool of forgotten 18th century repertoire. This has a score of more than passing interest which is delivered here, alongside the production, with avidity.
 

Bampton Classical Opera’s Director, Jeremy Gray searches every year for an opera not frequently heard. Once again, his selection is an excellent one with a geographical setting so very topical! Early 18th-century composers seeking oriental settings to show their colourful and expressive orchestrations discovered Persia and the waterway between the Persian Gulf and the Gulf of Oman – the Strait of Hormuz – appealing to contemporary tastes of the time. With a choice of 2000 folklore stories of the ‘morality lesson’ which is Zemira e Azor, Bampton’s 2026 selection is André Grétry’s 1771 composition, recomposed in Mannheim in 1776, with the Italian libretto by Mattia Verazi. An ingenious English translation by Gilly French and Jeremy Gray, with additional music by Niccoló Jomelli and Ignaz Holbauer, this opera in four acts builds the Bampton Classical Opera’s reputation for fresh and exciting developments. This classic fairy tale teaches the importance of empathy and kindness.

Sir Thomas Beecham, a keen supporter of Grétry’s music, praised him for his grace and melodic invention surpassed only by Mozart. In conductor Andrew Griffith’s hands this production is a musical treat, thanks in no small part to hand-picked musicians capably led by Caroline Balding. Creative offstage contributions by wind and brass players add to the enjoyment of the final act. So too, some extremely effective lighting designed by Ian Chandler and visuals created by David Hudd and Keith Farr. There are two stages, one, the home of Sandro (Samuel Pantcheff) the trader, the other, part of the palace belonging to ‘the beast’ Azor, the Prince of Kamir (Gwilym Bowen). Musicians slot in conveniently between the two stages. A vibrant overture begins the opera as Sandro, the trader loses his vessels in the Strait of Hormuz to the severe storms and lightning in these dangerous waters, depicted musically by excellent horn and bassoon playing. Seeking refuge in Azor’s palace, Sandro with his servant Ali (Andrew Irwin) are caught in the act of attempting to steal a rose as a gift for Zemira his youngest daughter (Ffion Edwards). Azor, the twin-horned ‘beast’ threatens death but relents when a deal is negotiated in which one of three daughters will take their father’s place as a sacrifice!

Baritone Samuel Pantcheff leads an extremely talented cast as the very caring trader father. Siân Dicker (Fatima) is outstanding as one of the spiteful and disgruntled sisters; she soon becomes the leader of the trio, her spinto soprano voice equipping her well for dramatic moments as the seriousness of the potential sacrifice of one of the girls dawns on the trio. The duet in the second act between Dicker (Fatima) and mezzo-soprano Rachel Roper (Lesbia) when they discuss the implications of the sacrifice was noteworthy. Zemira travels with Ali to meet Azor to fulfil her father’s deal.

Tenor Gwilym Bowen (‘the beast’ Azor) is a remarkable discovery by Bampton; his portrayal as ‘the beast’ from the balcony was most convincing as he despairs of his future. He patiently sits for Zemira as she paints his portrait, offers her a magic ring which will release her from his power and arranges for her to be part of the amazing ‘magic picture scene’ in which she sees her father and sisters at their home.  Above all, he is charming and, as Zemira impresses him with her tenacity and resilience, Azor to, becomes charmed. The complications of staging the ‘magic picture scene’ are enormous; it worked without a hitch! As offstage wind and brass are conducted by Andrew Griffiths, his harpsichord player Alex Norton takes charge of the remaining string and wind players. The creative direction of Act III is remarkable with the lighting plot designed to remind the audience of the significance of that rose – which caused the controversy – with floods on the ceiling of coloured rose depictions.

This is an opera which merits many a revival. The production has a well-chosen cast always engaging and showing sympathy when required, notably in Act IV as a miserable Sandro (Pantcheff) needs the comfort of Fatima (Dicker) and Lesbia (Roper) who deliver another excellent duet before Zemira (Edwards) returns from the now charmed ‘beast’. Ffion Edwards was proficient as Zemira, Rachel Roper was adept as Lesbia, Siân Dicker was superb as Fatima; all three girls engage in a family row which ends abruptly when Zemira (Edwards) casts off her magic ring and disappears, soon to reappear alongside Azor at his palace. The happy end to the fairytale is in sight! Gone is ‘the beast’s’ ugly twin-horned costume; replaced by an elegant long coat as the count reflects on the success of the ‘magic picture scene’, with offstage flutes echoing the onstage strings. Andrew Irwin’s busy interpretation of Ali the servant, a role he has clearly enjoyed, culminates in a most humorous fourth-act appearance as an angel clasping a bunch of roses, soon to utter the immortal words ‘may you live happily ever after’ to Azor and Zemira! Fireworks appear on the screens of the ‘magic picture scene’ and the happy ending is complete.

Bampton Classical Opera has delivered another delightful achievement.

Born in Liège in 1741, André Ernest Modeste Grétry made his career in opera in Paris, writing mainly opéras comiques. He wrote over 50 operas from his first success in 1768 through to his final opera in 1803 (he died in 1813). Though successful in the Ancien régime and despite losing property during the Revolution, he endured. The republic made him an inspector of the conservatoire amd Napoleon granted him the Légion d'honneur and a pension.

His best known operas are Zémire et Azor (from 1771) and Richard Coeur-de-lion (from 1784). Based on a text by Jean-François Marmontel, Zémire et Azor was enormously successful (over 120 performances during its first year) and remained in the French repertory until at least 1820. As with later French operas with spoken dialogue, the work underwent modifications when performed abroad. For performances in 1776 at the court of the Elector in Mannheim, the work was Italianised. The poet Mattia Verazi provided a new libretto, with recitatives by the Elector's kapellmeister, Ignaz Holzbauer. Verazi had been a friend and collaborator of the composer Niccolo Jommelli (who had died in 1774) and presumably at his suggestion two arias by Jomelli were added to the mix. Zemira e Azor was performed at the Elector's summer court theatre in Schwetzingen.

Mozart owned a score of the work, and his sister-in-law, Aloysia Weber, performed the role of Zémire in Vienna in 1784. The French version was a favourite with Sir Thomas Beecham, but the last UK performance seems to have been at the Camden Fetival in 1980! The 1776 Italian version seems to have languished until it was revived at the Schwetzinger SWR Festspiele in 2023.

It was the 1776 Italian version of Grétry's Zemira e Azor that Bampton Classical Opera chose for their 2026 production, sung in a new English translation by Gilly French and Jeremy Gray. Having performed the work in Oxfordshire and the Cotswolds this summer, the production was brought to Smith Square Hall on Friday 18 September 2026. The director was Jeremy Gray, and Andrew Griffiths conducted CHROMA, with the ensemble placed at the back of the stage. Costumes were by Pauline Smith and Anne Baldwin with visuals (including two electronic screens) by David Hudd and Keith Farr.

Samuel Pantcheff was the merchant Sandro with Andrew Irwin as Sandro's servant Ali. Ffion Edwards, Siân Dicker and Rachel Roper were Sandro's daughters Zemira (Beauty), Fatima and Lesbia. Gwilym Bowen was Azor (the Beast). The harpsichord continuo was played by Alex Norton.

Marmontel's original libretto was based on two French stories by Mme Villeneuve and Mme Beaumont. Neither names the characters and the names are Marmontel's, taken from exotic names in another fairy romance. 

The story unfolded in two locations, depicted either side of the stage, the palace of the Persian prince, Azor and Sandro's home in the Strait of Hormuz (!) As the opera opens, Sandro is travelling with Ali trying to recover wealth lost due to shipwreck. Having failed they find themselves in an apparently empty palace (Azor's home) where a meal mysteriously appears. Sandro plucks a rose as a present for his youngest daughter Zemira, incurring Azor's wrath. Azor condemns Sandro to death and only releases him when Sandro agrees one of his daughters will return. Back home, Sandro regrets his deal with Azor and plans to return but Zemira prempts him and goes to Azor with Ali.

The action so far covers the first two acts (half the opera) with Zemira and Azor's engagement compressed into a single act, the centrepiece of which is Zemira's showpiece aria about a bird, where she emulates birdsong. Missing her family, Azor allows her to return home, cue a quartet for the family before Zemira returns to a despairing Azor. Her love releases him from his curse, and the happy ending is interwoven with the fairy's explanation.

The setting was loosely modern day, and much use was made of the two electronic screens to display varied evocative videos helping to set the scene. These also formed the magic mirror that Azor produces in Act Three to help Zemira see her family. In Sandro's home, much use was made of a lovely pop-up book telling the fairytale of Beauty and the Beast.

The first half of the opera was, frankly, rather slow. We encountered Gwilym Bowen's Azor once, with a terrific aria at the end of Act One. As usual with the story of Beauty & the Beast (see the Disney cartoon), the imaginative design for the Beast made him interesting rather than scary. Ffion Edwards's Zemira got to do little but be charming. The other two daughters, Sian Dicker as Fatima and Rachel Roper as Lesbia, were rather evocative of Rossini's take on Cinderella's sisters! But the focus was on Samuel Pantcheff's warm, thoughtful Sandro and the comic servant of Andrew Irwin's Ali. This is a role that may have influenced Mozart's Papageno.

In Act Three, Bowen and Edwards interacted thoughtfully, doing their best to cram their developing relationship into a sequence of recitatives punctuated by Edwards's spectacular aria. With her returning home, Act Four opened with a quartet for Pantcheff, Edwards, Dicker and Roper which provided a vastly different texture, before all ended happily, with Andrew Irwin doubling as the fairy at the end (a spoken role in the French original).

The production wisely did not try to make the piece more than it was and this proved to be an engaging evening in the theatre with a familiar story charmingly told. The singers' diction was excellent and the text came over well which is important in an unfamilar story.

Gwilym Bowen made a fine Azor, bringing a heroic edge to his voice along with an element of bravura in the arias, though it was a shame that his big aria opening Act Three, when he despairs of his fate, was delivered from the balcony high above us and we wished he was closer. Even when the Beast, Bowen brought out the character's kindness and dignity. Ffion Edwards made a charming Zemira, moving from her care for her father to determination and dignity in the face of the Beast. Then her delivery of her big aria in Act Three was nothing short of spectacular, no wonder Bowen's Beast fell in love!

Pantcheff made a warm and thoughtful Sandro, despite not being a success in his business enterprises his care for his daughters came over. As Ali, Andrew Irwin had a significant role to play as the character seemed to be permanently scared of something! Irwin clearly relished opportunities and challenges, though his voice seemed somewhat under pressure at the top in his arias. As the other two sisters, Dicker and Roper bickered and ganged up on Edwards in an engaging manner. Yet each had an aria, both by Jomelli, which deepend their characters. These pushed things in a somewhat more serious direction, but both Dicker and Roper gathered up the opportunities given.

Andrew Griffiths and the orchestra gave a fine account of the work's substantial overture, far more complex than we might have expected. There was plenty for the players to do with flutes, oboe, bassoon and horns alongside strings, plus Alex Norton's admirable continuo.

There is definitely a role for this version of the opera, enabling companies to give Grétry's work without the need for extensive spoken dialogue. This unassuming yet imaginative staging from Bampton managed to bring out the work's charm with a cast of young voices who made their roles work. Grétry's Zémire et Azor is not quite a forgotten masterpiece, but it is a work worth reassessing and as usual Bampton did sterling work enabling us to do this.
 

When three years ago, Mannheim  opera produced a real mash-up of Gretry’s slight tale of Beauty and the Beast with Disney dwarfs, a Sugar Puff monster and a footballer hero, I thought I would never see a production to do the piece justice. Opera

Bampton Opera and director Jeremy Gray have put that right, with a charming show elevated by two outstanding performers in the title roles, Ffion Edwards as Zemira and Gwilym Bowen as Azor, the prince turned monster.

Zemira’s merchant father Sandro (Samuel Pantcheff) with his servant Ali (Andrew Irwin) is marooned in the Gulf of Hormuz (yes that one), held captive by Azor, but allowed to return home to his three daughters Zemira, Fatima (Sian Dicker) and Lesbia (Rachel Roper) if one of them returns as his hostage.

The music, much of it later additions for the original Italian language performance in 1776, also in Mannheim, has a Mozartian feel, albeit without the sophistication that the greater composer’s symphonic experience brought to the orchestration.

Highlights include a highly interactive quartet for Sandro’s family and an off-stage obbligato for horn and flute that complements the final scene, but best of all are the showpiece arias for the principals. Bowen raises the show to a nerve-tingling level with his first entrance, "Beware my furious rage", menace combined with smooth, long legato lines, and a trilling Edwards handles the virtuoso songbird air with great delicacy and poise.

It is not a story of great depth—its appeal at the time largely a result of its magical effects—yet by their mutual reticence, in the scene where suspicion turns gradually to love, the couple achieve a real sense of pathos.

Irwin plays up Ali’s timidity—a model perhaps for Mozart’s Papageno, Pantcheff projects boldly the figure of the merchant, Dicker invests considerable feeling into her act two lament, and Roper sounds ravishing in one of many additions to the score in 1776 from the works of Niccolo Jommelli, the only shortcoming of which is its brevity.

The stage is split in two with Azor’s Persian palace on one side and Sandro’s simple home on the other, and video screens effectively portray the magical connection between the two. Placing the orchestra between them gives it rather undue prominence, but conductor Andrew Griffiths was keenly responsive to the singers and only once did the sound slightly lap over the soloist.

Tribute is due also to Pauline Smith and Anne Baldwin for their character-enhancing costume designs, Ali in cowardly yellow, Zemira resembling Little Red Riding Hood setting out to meet the wolf and Azor best of all, somewhere between cruel and cuddly, like a tabby cat with great claws and ram’s horns. Spot on.

Bampton Classical Opera’s rarely heard Zemira e Azor proved an absolute delight at Cokethorpe School, combining glorious music, playful staging and a beautifully accessible take on the Beauty and the Beast story.

This was a rare opportunity to hear a work that once travelled widely across Europe but is now seldom staged in Britain. Bampton Classical Opera presented a version based on the 1776 Italian edition, with additional music by Ignaz Holzbauer and Niccolò Jommelli, sung in a new English translation by Gilly French.

That scholarly detail might make the evening sound specialist. In practice, it was anything but remote. The production was warm, funny, generous and unexpectedly immediate, proving once again how skilfully Bampton can make rarely performed 18th-century opera feel alive for modern audiences.

The opening performances took place at Cokethorpe School, near Witney, a new venue for Bampton Classical Opera.  The setting worked beautifully. The production unfolded across two stages, while also making use of the balcony and, at times, the audience seating area. That gave the evening a sense of movement and intimacy, with the story seeming to grow out of the room rather than being kept at a polite distance.  There was also something special about being so close to the orchestra. Watching Andrew Griffiths shape Grétry’s score was a pleasure in itself, and the Orchestra of Bampton Classical Opera played with elegance, brightness and affection throughout.  For a semi-staged production, it felt remarkably vivid. The performance had theatrical imagination without losing sight of the music.

Zemira offers herself in place of her father as a prisoner in the magical castle of Azor, a prince transformed into a terrifying beast by a fairy’s curse. At first she is horrified by his appearance, but gradually sees the dignity, tenderness and nobility beneath the surface. When she finally declares her love, the spell is broken.

Director Jeremy Gray gave the piece a playful modern edge. Bright yellow cagoules, matching rubber gloves and even a copy of Just Seventeen magazine brought flashes of contemporary humour into the fairytale world.

Those choices could have jarred with the period score, but instead they gave the production a mischievous lightness. The comedy never mocked the music. It opened a door for the audience, making the opera feel approachable without flattening its emotional shape.

The cast was excellent throughout, mixing returning Bampton performers with company debuts. Ffion Edwards brought sincerity, warmth and vocal clarity to Zemira. Her performance made the character’s compassion feel active rather than passive, giving the heroine a quiet strength as she moved from fear to understanding.  Gwilym Bowen was both imposing and sympathetic as Azor. He captured the loneliness and strangeness of the cursed prince, while allowing enough tenderness through the disguise for Zemira’s change of heart to feel believable.  Their scenes together were among the evening’s strongest, giving the opera its emotional centre.

Rachel Roper was delightful as Lesbia, while Siân Dicker repeatedly stole scenes with a wonderfully dry and expressive Fatima  Andrew Irwin brought infectious comic energy to Ali, making every entrance count, while Samuel Pantcheff completed the principal cast with authority as Sandro.

The ensemble balance was one of the production’s pleasures. Nobody overplayed the comedy, but everyone understood its rhythm. The result was light, lively and precise, with enough theatrical sparkle to keep the audience smiling without losing the opera’s fairytale tenderness.

Bampton Classical Opera has built its reputation on rescuing rarely heard works from the late 18th century and presenting them in clear, lively English translations.  Zemira e Azor is exactly the kind of piece that justifies that mission. It is not merely a curiosity. It is melodically charming, theatrically generous and full of feeling.

The production also showed how a company can bring scholarship and entertainment together. The rarity of the edition mattered, but so did the laughter, the performances, the costumes, the staging and the sheer pleasure of hearing a score that deserves more attention.  At Cokethorpe, the result was a magical evening, and a strong argument for why these rediscoveries matter.  It took a rarely staged opera and made it feel fresh, accessible and full of theatrical life. The English text allowed the story to land clearly, and the cast gave the fairytale both humour and heart.

For anyone who thinks 18th-century opera might feel distant, this production is a persuasive answer. It was warm, playful and quietly magical.

If you only know Beauty and the Beast from the 1991 Disney version, you may not realise that the original story dates from the mid-18th century, and has been retold multiple times. It’s the basis of this opera by André Grétry, which was massively popular following its premiere in 1771.

Dancing teapots aren’t in evidence in Bampton Classical Opera’s production, directed by Jeremy Gray, but there’s much wit and energy here, as well as a sincere commitment to the charming score.

The company has been championing lesser-known or forgotten (sometimes with good reason) operas for more than 30 years at the Deanery Garden in Bampton. This year, they’ve shifted to Cokethorpe School, near Witney. The change from the outdoors picnic atmosphere of Bampton to an indoors school setting is all to the benefit of performers and audience. Sight lines and sound are vastly improved, and the risk of a mid-performance downpour is gone.

The Cokethorpe motto ‘Inopiam Ingenio Pensant’ (‘Ingenuity overcomes scarcity’) is emblazoned on a balcony in the hall. It seems an equally appropriate sentiment for a company that survives on shoestring budgets while bolstering the careers of young and upcoming singers. In Gray’s produciton, performers are periodically up on that balcony, but most of the action takes place on two small stages on the floor, with the first-rate orchestra (confidently conducted by Andrew Griffiths) positioned in between.

As Zemira (Beauty) and Azor (the Beast), Ffion Edwards and Gwilym Bowen are convincing in their growing mutual attraction, despite the obvious obstacle of Azor’s beastly behavior and his hirsute façade: a goat-like headdress and bear paws (costumes by Pauline Smith and Anne Baldwin).

Edwards essays the treacherous heights of coloratura role with aplomb. As Sandro, Zemira’s father, Samuel Pantcheff is touching in his mixture of guilt for having gotten into this mess and his desire to protect his three daughters. Rachel Roper and Siân Dicker have great fun as Zemira’s eye-rolling older sisters, Lesbia and Fatima, who join their sister in the famous trio.

There are issues with diction for some of the singers – unfortunate, given the new indoor venue and the use of an English translation by co-artistic director Gilly French. Andrew Irwin as Sandro’s servant, Ali, is vocally on point and embraces the comic nature of the character. He shines in an Act II duet with Zemira, as the two return to Azor’s castle.

Grétry’s opera took Europe by storm in the 1770s – Catherine the Great named her favourite greyhound Zemira. Audiences were entranced by its exotic setting – Persia, near the Gulf of Hormuz (a painfully resonant location in our time), and a stage effect that sees Zemira and Azor gaze at a ‘magic picture’ of Zemira’s family as they worry over the missing Zemira.

That magic is accomplished here by video screens, which presumably will be along for performances later in the year at Westonbirt Orangery in Gloucestershire and Smith Square Hall, London.

Gretry is a composer who has not reached the same heights of popularity of many of his contemporaries of the mid to late eighteenth century. It is thus fantastic that Oxfordshire is home to Bampton Classical Opera – a company dedicated to reviving lesser known works by musicians of this period.

Zemira e Azor is, essentially, a retelling of Beauty and the Beast. A father, Sandro, stumbles across an enchanted palace. This angers the owner, Azor, a hideous monster of a man, who threatens Sandro's life unless he is willing to send one of his daughters in his place. The father is horrified at such a prospect but accepts the bargain as a way of ensuring his escape. His youngest daughter, Zemira, discovers the details of the deal and runs off to the palace determined to save her father.

She meets Azor and an unexpected bond is formed and after the traditional obstacles are overcome, the curse turning Azor into a Beast is lifted and they all live happily ever after.

Musically, there is absolutely much to admire. It is a a lyrical and beautifully orchestrated opera-comique with many gorgeous moments shared between the singers and members of the chamber ensemble.

Andrew Griffiths conducts with the right balance of flair and precision necessary for music of this period. He shapes everything with care and allows both musicians and singers space to shine.

There is not a weak link in the cast. In the title roles, Ffion Edwards and Gwilym Bowen showcase their voices to perfection, handling the challenging demands of the score with apparent ease. Samuel Pantcheff (Sandro) has a rich, warm sound that is right for the part, which has one of the largest ranges of any baritone role in the repertoire.

Andrew Irwin uses his bright, characterful tenor to deliver much humour and personality to the role of the servant, Ali. And the cast is rounded out by the two other sisters. Lesbia (Rachel Roper) and Fatima (Sian Dicker) who blend their voices perfectly in what are, sadly, underwritten and underused roles.

This is music making of the highest order and whilst the material is not hugely memorable, it is a delight to hear performed so well.

For all the beauty and elegance of the score, it is a opera with many issues in terms of the plot and the drama. It is lacking in drama and tension with key moments, like the departure of Zemira, not even shown on stage only reported by other characters. It is not uncommon for operas to lacking dramaturgically speaking but, that said, the beauty of the music does mask some of these shortcomings.

The venue, Cokethorpe School, has many virtues – it is a lovely environment with more than adequate parking and plenty of space in which to enjoy a summer evening. The auditorium is not ideal for a theatrical presentation. Because it lacks a proper stage, the orchestra is on the same level as the singers and thus sight lines are badly compromised meaning that large parts of the action are obscured to significant sections of the audience. The staging is inventive with good use of technology to move things along. But the fact that the whole audience could not see all of the action is to be regretted.

All in all, there is absolutely much to enjoy. Bampton Classical Opera is a gem that should be cherished for doing what it does so well.

Amongst England's summer opera companies, there's no doubt Bampton Classical Opera is one of the most enchanting, original and unique...

Co-founder Jeremy Gray has evolved a marvellously idiosyncratic house style: his stagings are full of the teasing and unpredictable, the cheeky and unflappable, so that every Bampton staging emerges chock-full of clever and artful ideas: plots are invariably fast-moving and zany; moves are slick and dotty and finessed; characters are just as humorous: he has a gift for turning harmless types into irrepressible, energetic and vigorous personalities; or into hopeless, clumsy, disaster-prone idiots.

not only does Bampton perform in English, but it does so in brand new translations made by co-founder Gilly French. These joyous versions have everything to applaud about them. They are fabulously entertaining. loaded with skilfully devised comic detail, full of splendid rhymes, scrupulously accurate, meticulously abreast of all the subtleties and secrets and clever intricacies of the original, in fact expert in every way. Cheekiness, flair, ribaldry, impishness, bustling energy, naughtiness - these are the Bampton preserve. These supremely desirable versions really do deserve preserving.

Bampton's speciality - unique in the UK - has always been to revive composers and works that have - sometimes inexplicably - faded from the repertoire. Their initiative in this respect is staggering. They do a massive service by enlarging and tremendously enhancing our view of the repertoire

Typically, there's masses of fun in this latest, classic Bampton production. It's teasing and hilarious from the very start

Soon we meet the hyperactive Ali's hard-pressed master, Sandro (Samuel Pantcheff) whose agonies over his appalling material losses - like Antonio in The Merchant of Venice, his ships have been wrecked - are naturally all the greater. Pantcheff shone in all respects: capable in recitative, distinctive in each of his smooth-flowing, appetising arias.

Bowen, superbly characterised in the role, edgy, snarling, aggressive, is unremittingly terrifying. 

Fatima's beautifully crafted aria (soprano Siân Dicker) unexpectedly lends the Act character. Hers - the music in a couple of places in this opera was, for whatever reason, borrowed or poached from Italian Niccolò Jommelli, 1714-74 - was palpably a highlight of the entire music.

[Zemira] is enchanted and unexpectedly thrilled, responding with a truly gorgeous extended, melodious aria, with horns and high-reaching flute, that evokes a rapturous songbird.

Lesbia (mezzo Rachel Roper), tries to allay things and calm everyone's mood (another superb moment)

impeccably balanced by excellent conductor and finessed continuo provider Andrew Griffiths. 

What was clear was the joy and vitality that, as always, Bampton Classical Opera brought to yet another stagework. If anyone could bring to life the Mozart-like qualities lurking within it, they certainly could.

(for the complete, lengthy article, please follow this link).

The performance last night was superlative. You showed such ingenuity in the use of the space at Cokethorpe. The two stages, the placement of the orchestra between and their performance of such unfamiliar music, the light projection on the ceiling, the use of ‘live streaming’, the costumes, the direction, the libretto, the casting and the voices were all magnificent… I was about to type ‘onward and upward’ but I wonder how in the world you can improve on such a magnificent performance.

a delightful piece with gorgeous music, excellent cast, direction and a very singable translation

Last night's performance was a magnificent success… most particularly in promoting enjoyment and understanding of the music, which was sung and played with real brilliance

Atmospheric music, perfectly attune to the story and scenes, particularly the thunder and lightning. Fantastic voices. Brilliant Azor costume. Creative split scene production and technical effects.

The last opera I saw was Tosca at Glyndebourne.  I enjoyed Monday [at Westonbirt] more.