Ludovico Ariosto’s long narrative poem Orlando furioso, from the early 16th century, proved to be highly influential not only as a masterpiece within the domain of literature, but also as a regular source for countless operas down to at least the 19th century. Some of its episodes were treated quite faithfully in operatic adaptations, but by the time of the later 18th century, when opera buffa was in its heyday, the poem’s outline was used more loosely as a general frame on which the conventions of that genre could be hung.

So it was with Gazzaniga’s L’isola d’Alcina (1771) which adapts the idea of Alcina’s realm as a remote tropical island where four European adventurers (later joined by a fifth, a German) are washed up when their boat founders (bringing to mind, presumably coincidentally, another prominent literary work, Robinson Crusoe). As with various operas at that time, this becomes a sort of comedy of manners, in which different national characteristics are satirised – the Europeans introduced in Giovanni Bertati’s libretto don’t appear in Ariosto, but are made up to fit that pattern, figures of fun rather than heroic knights who hail from England, France, Spain, and Italy. The names of Alcina’s two attendants also don’t feature in the original poem, and their characters have more to do with the stock figures of the sassy female servant of opera buffa. Gilly French transmutes the wit into a modern context from the perspective of an English translation in his version of the text as Alcina’s Island.

Jeremy Gray’s lively production turns Alcina’s ream of enchantments into a modern Love Island, though a rather less crude one than the knocking shop for musclebound simpletons that is ITV’s meretricious reality show. The Eurovision Song Contest gets a look-in at the end of Act Two when the characters are called upon to sing in their various national styles to revive La Rose after he has passed out through drinking too much from Alcina’s fountain of forgetfulness (here a colourful cocktail) and they are awarded points. (The Englishman James is not called upon to contribute, and so is spared the embarrassment of receiving nul points.) Alcina wins for the song she delivers in a Venetian dialect (Gazzaniga’s opera was composed for Venice’s San Moisè theatre). Ariosto’s work is called to mind by James’s reading the book as the Europeans reach the island from the sea and recall the story of the age-old sorceress, whose lovers are quickly despatched and turned into rocks, animals, or vegetation; Orlando, Ruggiero, and Astolfo (familiar from Handel’s famous Alcina) appear as ossified four-legged beasts. Alarmed, the new arrivals swear an oath on that book not to fall for Alcina’s wiles, but they start to renege as they become captivated by her, and she sparks off their jealousies by playing them off against each other.

Inna Husieva leads with a finely spun vocal line in the title role, delicate at first but settling into more extrovert allure. The initial quartet of Europeans – later joined by Baron Brikbrak – form a cohesive group in several ensembles during the opera – one near the beginning seems to anticipate Mozart’s ‘Soave sia il vento’ of nearly twenty years later with its rustling strings, as they yield to the sweet fragrances and air of the island. Jonathan Eyers stands out as the charismatic Spaniard Don Lopes, finding his way idiomatically around the music in character with an accent. Replacing Simon Brown at fairly short notice as the Frenchman La Rose, Dafydd Allen achieves a lively roguishness. Not having to feign an accent, Magnus Walker evinces some sustained, quiet lyricism as the more emotionally reserved Englishman, while Monwabisi Lindi doesn’t really affect Brunoro’s Italian personality, but he does sing with charm. Owain Rowlands flusters effusively as the German baron who appears later and is able to bring about the others’ escape.

Charlotte Badham and Sarah Chae are a well contrasting pair, the former more guarded and prim, the latter more vivacious with a sparkling swing in her arias. They each fall in love with one of the Europeans and devise a plan to flee Alcina’s clutches, with the aid of Brikbrak who leans not to fall prey to the sorceress.

Thomas Blunt and the Orchestra of Bampton Classical Opera give buoyant support to the buffoonery of the opera, rhythmically poised and chirpy, but without upstaging the singers. The light touch of the harpsichord (Alex Norton) helps, and oboes and horns add vim to the stalwart presence of the strings. They all bring extra fire to the final scene as Alcina threatens to call down revenge upon the fugitives, with dragons and monsters enlisted to attack, in an intriguingly inconclusive ending to the opera which, like the tendency of each episode in Ariosto’s to bifurcate in further narrative layers, feels like it ought to have been the springboard for an operatic sequel. Nonetheless there is plenty of humour, dramatic incident, and musical inventiveness in the opera we have here. This is the second time since last autumn that audiences in the Southeast have had the chance to assess Gazzaniga’s legacy, following the Royal College of Music’s production of Don Giovanni Tenorio (which Bampton has also mounted in the past). Although relatively less well known, Alcina’s Island strikes me as the musically more substantial opera. 

A Frenchman, La Rose; a Spaniard, Don Lopes; an Italian, Brunoro; and an Englishman, James, are shipwrecked on a desert island, which turns out to be the home of Alcina. A beautiful enchantress, Alcina entices the men who wash up on her shores to fall in love with her, and turns them to stone when she tires of them. Aware of her reputation, the men try hard to resist her flirtatious teasing, but one by one, they succumb. But before they join the statuary ranged on her terrace, another shipwrecked traveller turns up, the German Baron Brikbrak. Alcina’s attendants Lesbia and Clizia are tired of life on the island, and have themselves fallen for Brunoro and Don Lopez respectively. They persuade Brikbrak to sneak into Alcina’s chamber while she’s asleep and cut off a lock of her hair, which will reduce her powers so that they can all escape. Or do they?

Unusually, this early 18th-century comic opera ends on a cliffhanger, as Alcina summons dragons and sharks to pursue them – cleverly represented, in Bampton Opera’s production, on the sleeves of her golden cape as she raises her arms, like a Last Night of the Proms soloist revealing a union flag at the climax of Rule, Britannia!.

It’s all very silly, but on a hot, sunny evening in the garden of Oxfordshire’s Bampton Deanery, where a semi-circular yew hedge makes a natural sounding board for the roofless stage, it’s all quite delightful, and much appreciated by the picnicking audience.

The small orchestra is in a pavilion to the side, where conductor Thomas Blunt keeps a deft hand on the musical tiller. Balance is generally excellent, favouring the singers, which helps make the witty translation audible. Music and drama are both fast-paced and economical; direction and design shamelessly play up the national stereotypes that composer Gazzaniga clearly enjoyed exploiting, but allow the characters of the hapless travellers to emerge strongly. A visual highlight is the appearance of the lovesick travellers at the start of Act II, wearing heart-shaped pink swimming rings, Polynesian skirts and flower garlands as well as their national garb.

In what is very much a company piece, the standouts are tenor Dafydd Allen’s touching La Rose (despite the fact that he is a very late addition to the cast) and mezzo-soprano Charlotte Badham’s feisty yet lyrical Clizia. The four original shipmates are particularly well-matched dramatically and musically, but the whole cast makes the most of the attractive arias and beautiful ensemble writing, especially Act II’s concluding sextet. Last seen in England in 1777, L’Isola d’Alcina richly deserves Bampton Classical Opera’s return trip.

Bampton Classical Opera deserved the warmest of evenings in the most picturesque venue, the Deanery Garden, Bampton, for the opening night of this year’s gem... the Bampton cast performed Giuseppe Gazzaniga’s cliffhanger comedy with their usual contagious enthusiasm. Gilly French diligently translated Giovanni Bertati’s libretto with a licence to add comedy lines, of which there are many, in one of the Italian composers fifty-one opera buffas, best described as light-hearted entertainment for common people, full of frivolous and farcical incidents! Bertati based his libretto on a remodelling of Ludovico Ariosto’s Orlando furioso; an evil enchantress transforming discarded lovers into rocks, trees or animals. Bampton’s simple colourful staging features three of those previously discarded lovers as stone animals – Orlando a tortoise, Ruggiero a rhino and Astolfo a lion.

Director, Jeremy Gray enjoys exploring the byways of eighteenth-century opera and an opportunity to investigate an exotic venue provided an added attraction. Among Bampton’s strengths is a very capable orchestra conducted by Thomas Blunt, good fortune in finding actors, of whom two were last-minute replacements who are happy to work in a small, dedicated team, supported by volunteers and helpers, many of whom have been with the company for most of its 31 years. Bampton’s rescue of an opera last performed in the UK in 1777 proves to be a very happy and amusing revival.

As 250 patrons, in warm sunshine, ended their picnic suppers, four dishevelled European tourists are washed up on the desert island, an island ruled by the capricious sorceress Alcina, with her reputation of a voracious appetite for lovers. The foursome welcome sustenance and advice from two charming nymphs, Clizia (Charlotte Badham) and Lesbia (Sarah Chae), who both deliver confident arias praising the virtues of island life. However, the shipwrecked four soon learn of the dangers of fantasising over the beauty of the sorceress and gaining Alcina’s unwanted attention, agreeing to swear an oath of resistance. First to set this courageous tone of resistance is the Iberian toreador (Jonathan Eyers) with a commanding aria full of his self-importance in his strong baritone voice. Frenchman, La Rose (Dafydd Allen who stepped into the part at two weeks’ notice), followed by the vulnerable Italian, Brunoro (South African-born Monwabisi Lindi) and finally the very apprehensive Englishman (Magnus Walker) put their trust in the nymphs with determined opposition to Alcina’s advances.

But in truth all four fall for Alcina’s good looks and vivacity; La Rose turning to drink causing him to hallucinate. Badham’s nymph Clizia aids and abets Alcina to promote a highly amusing song contest during which she takes the opportunity to attract the attention of the Iberian toreador using her stunning blue eyes to tease her prey. Inevitably, Alcina wins the competition and enjoys the besotted attention of the hapless shipwrecked foursome, soon to be joined by a German, dressed appropriately in lederhosen, Baron von Brikbrak (Owain Rowlands) who cleverly manages to confuse and muddle the several European languages before taking the huge responsibility handed him to cut a lock of Alcina’s hair in an effort to reduce her magical powers. Rowlands’s fine baritone voice, his performance as the potential fall guy, contributed to the ongoing madness of Act II, the duet with toreador Jonathan Eyers a highlight of the act!

in the leading role of Alcina Ukrainian-born Inna Husieva performs exceedingly well as the charming, captivating enchantress with every right to transform all four of the forlorn Europeans to stone! Husieva sings a tender cavatina in Act I as she admires her beauty, her strong stage presence put to good use as she announces she has no interest whatsoever in the now five, shipwrecked men, finally showing her indignation when she learns of their proposed escape from the island. This is the cliffhanger moment; will the five and their nymph partners effect an escape?

Both Sarah Chae and Charlotte Badham enjoy their nymphet roles, their costumes by Pauline Smith and Anne Baldwin adding to their allure. Seldom, if ever, does the pace drop, thanks in large measure to clever movement direction by Karen Halliday who ensures actors arrive and depart at pace from and to several locations. Ian Chandler’s lighting plots are simple, the stunning weather on opening night a bonus! Director Jeremy Gray paid tribute at a pre-event talk to the efforts of Thomas Blunt and the orchestra – ‘the fresh lively music engages your senses’. Gazzaniga may now be just a ‘footnote composer’ but in the eighteenth century he was a most prolific composer enjoyed by many in the local opera houses. Bampton’s discoveries continue to be a highlight of the UK’s summer garden opera season, long may this continue!

Year on year, Bampton Classical Opera in west Oxfordshire remains one of England's unmissable musical delights.

Why so? Its scintillating, quirky productions take place - are celebrated - in Bampton's enchanting Deanery Garden. As outdoor locations go, that is one of the most charming venues you could ask for. Impressive, capacious box hedges fronted by the compact performing platform provide a major bonus: a vivid backdrop which contrives splendidly to project the solo and ensemble voices to an enthusiastic and supportive audience. The setting is invigorating, appetising and beguiling.

True, unusually in the high summer of July, there is a danger of rain - even occasionally a real downpour. In that rare case, the opera gets skilfully and neatly shifted into the adjacent - superb and dominant - St Mary's Church. But that move of a production can never match the allure of an arresting outdoor performance, with its magical, intriguingly designed and manufactured sets. And Bampton, against all odds, has a blessed gift - a knack, perhaps - for conjuring up dry evenings. Even this year, an unnerving threat was averted. Umbrellas had scarcely begun to surface before a mere three minutes of drizzle having threatened, immediately ceased. The whole remainder of the evening was joyous: as dry as a bone.

Bampton's essential and deeply valuable commitment to promoting young performers is one of its major achievements. Not only by a commendable process of selection does it draw into its ranks cast members, and indeed orchestral players, all performers of notable talent, range and versatility, excellently honed. It has also contrived over the past few years a Young Singers competition which has quickly established itself as a strikingly high quality opportunity for ambitious young aspirants. By general consent its standards have been exceptional. To prove its value, winners and runners-up have emerged from not just Britain, but from Eastern Europe, the Far East and across the world. The standards have consistently proved phenomenal. It is a stupendous achievement.

As for Bampton's unfailingly entertaining, ticklish, invariably mind-boggling productions, if one wanted to sum up their stagings' bizarre character, the first word that comes to mind would certainly be 'fun'. The imaginative and immensely capable founders, full of initiative, the ingenious husband and wife team of Jeremy Gray (who directs all Bampton's productions with endless wit and aplomb) and Gilly French, whose always clever English translations are hilarious and - as important - unfailingly loyal to the original text, have shown that comic operas by Haydn or Gluck, Cimarosa or Salieri - if skilfully managed and artfully staged - can yield an extraordinary, insuppressible wealth of entertainment. Often their shows are a laugh a minute. A treat in every way.

So what is the character, the salient feature of Bampton productions? There is a definite house style, one might call it. Not just fun, but naughtiness and cheekiness; impudence; a wicked dose of mischief. A lot of flair, even daring; heaps of creativeness and invention; plenty of vital and vivid ways of capturing - prising out - the comedy and sharp wit of the usually outrageous plots they have the imagination to serve up. Special, one might say unique, ways of teasing and tickling their audiences. An unrivalled gift for the unpredictable, the roguish, the improbable, and endlessly captivating.
And now, enter Gazzaniga. Who, you may ask? Giuseppe Gazzaniga lived from 1743 to 1818. Plenty of time there to be prolific: indeed some fifty-one operas flowed from his busy pen. One of the best known was his Don Giovanni, which Bampton - with its unique gift for spotting and promoting Classical era operas that have long fallen out of the repertoire - has staged, filled with its typical energy and zest.

Now it has made a cheerful and rumbustious revisiting of this needlessly neglected eighteenth century composer, staging yet another rarity, L'isola d'Alcina (Alcina's Island), originally staged in 1771 and based on a section of the epic poem ('verse-novel') Orlando Furioso - written some three centuries earlier by the versatile, polished and hugely celebrated Italian poet Ludovico Ariosto (1474-1533).

Not least important in this case is that the scampering libretto of this fast-moving opera was devised by Giovanni Bertati (1735-1815), one of the most significant figures of his time, one well versed in the style of the famous and productive fractionally older Carlo Goldoni (1707-93). Bertati contributed to numerous different composers, including furnishing the still popular Il matrimonio segreto for Cimarosa, texts for Paisiello, Anfossi and Traetta, and a clutch (Calandrino, La locanda, plus the intriguingly titled La Tomba di Merlino), as well as the present cleverly mapped L'isola d'Alcina for Gazzaniga. Alcina, of course, was also one of the most impressive and popular of Handel's operas. Outrageously, it's said that elements of his Don Giovanni tenorio (1787) were 'stolen' - pinched - by Da Ponte the following year for the premiere in Prague of Mozart's opera - which dated from the very next year.

L'isola d'Alcina's plot, Jeremy Gray points out, is 'especially absurd'. But no worry - it's very much up Bampton's street, the kind of hyperactive, hugely amusing extravaganza at which Gray invariably shines and excels. Before one further explores the contorted plot, and his typically zany production, one must pay the highest tribute to the conductor. Thomas Blunt has conducted almost half a dozen of Bampton's stagings. His prodigious talent, overwhelming insight, meticulous command of detail and insistent conciseness stood out a mile.

Blunt's immense precision communicates itself - rubs off successfully - upon his notably polished orchestral players, producing a similar vital quality from them. A notable gift for switching from gleeful alacrity to hushed restraint had the result that the contrasts he evolved from the music were consistently inventive and well drawn.

To be honest, Gazzaniga's score is much more akin to Haydn than to Mozart: in short, it certainly lacks the originality of the latter: the recitative flows, but arguably even a couple of his arias feel fractionally pallid in places. Yet Blunt produced from them all a wealth of nuance and refinement, eliciting from it solo instrumental touches that might easily have been let by and passed over. He found subtlety where it was needed, drew out detail when it was badly needed, and held together an admirable ensemble which gave vital but finely judged support to the vocal soloists, especially in the many ensembles that form such an essential element of the vocal soloists' unfailing vigour and energy.

If the plot is zany, it nonetheless needs energy and vitality to keep the story, with its addled collection of Spaniards and Frenchmen, Italians, Britons (as well as a wild German) who are washed up on a Pacific island, interact with each other quite hectically and in fact find themselves in the grip, unwillingly, of a manipulative sorceress much like Odysseus's Circe. She determines to lay a hand on any or all of these unlikely castaways. They collude to resist her but ... well ... the lady is not without her attractions, and vulnerably they begin to yield to unfortunate temptation. But as the peril becomes apparent they begin to perceive the danger. Instead, they - or one of them, the German - has the wit to find a way to diminish or neutralise her powers. To her utter fury, the sorceress's power is overthrown. She will not have any more victims after this.

If Bertati's plot is pretty banal, the one thing that gives it such zip and flair, as it does time and again - is Gilly French's translation. Time and again, it's her ingenuity which makes the story come alive. The chances are that her version is wittier, more inventive, more scrumptious, incisive, even more electrifying, than Bertati's sometimes limping original. Here are a few examples.

'Shake ... mistake; malicious ... suspicious; curtain ... certain; frighten ... enlightened'; 'I know nothing! I'm not bluffing!' There's loads more. 'Affection ... under my protection; favour ... savour; bother ... another; rigmarole ... self-control; loathing ... proposing; smiling ... beguiling.' Time and again smart phrasing appears: 'refresh us ... enmesh us; you appear somewhat dazed ... Gods be praised. What must our womenfolk be thinking ... I can hear the glasses clinking.' And lots more. The cleverness of these annual English libretti, marvellously fresh, alive and adroit, here gives the story its zest, nippiness and unceasing vigour. Her texts and revitalising of eighteenth century comic scripts - often irresistible banalities - are masterpieces in themselves.  If the two-line rhyming is ingenious, she is endlessly gifted at bringing whole stanzas to life, a cluster of lines which capture the spirit of a passage inspiredly, subtly and perfectly.

The story is as addled as mentioned above, but of course there are names - the team of singers - to celebrate. Surely first of all is Sarah Chae, a quite delicious soprano with beautfully eloquent touches of coloratura (as much as Gazzaniga allows her) - really finessed and enticing at every point. Both she and Charlotte Badham, who also held forth her own nicely coloratura-tinged arias, shone brightly: both were definitely a hit, and where needed acted capably - even though, inevitably, it was Alcina herself (Ukrainian Inna Husieva) who held the stage, lolling bossily and seeking to direct the fortunes of all.

The four perspiring suitors - or victims - cavorted in inimitable Bampton style: if one had a few reservations about their individually crazed, dotty if marginally cramped interactions, all sported utterly ridiculous costumes, capturing intriguingly the contrasted nationality of each. Where they excelled was not least in the neatest aspect of Gazzaniga's setting. Initially not one but two quartets (as they successfully escape then discover their unexpected landing on this weirdly unknown land, and utterly puzzled, come to terms with the strange ambience of where they have ended up).
But also a quintet - Act II - plus vibrant septets which draw each Act to a typically cheerful close. The essential aspect at these points is that - thanks to Blunt's careful nursing - they are artfully balanced, that the singers were never outweighed by the orchestra, or indeed vice-versa. The diction was excellent. But the singers, male and female, Alcina's pair of maidservants and the bizarre foursome showed considerable intelligence and, importantly, a smart degree of individuality - these are Bampton characteristics - they gather up young singers, offer them a chance on the professional stage, and lend to them a degree of polish that will enhance their singing and acting in any other company they may aspire to join thereafter.

Of course there are solos - in fact solos galore, richly carried off. Early on, as mentioned, the two girls, Clizia and Lesbia, 'Oh what joy', are allotted gems.  Then one after the other, mostly in turn, the various foreigners break into song. A striking aria from the grandiloquent, bizarre-hatted Spaniard (Don Lopes - Jonathan Eyers), who is very ready for a fight and an argument; by contrast the Italian, Brunoro (Monwabisi Lindi), who furnished an enchanting, beautifully restrained, exquisitely characterised tenor aria, 'Love and honour', was notably plaintive and touching. There was a complementary Englishman (Magnus Walker), who deftly intermingled with the other three, and proved full of allure in his solo 'If you love me ...'.

And - significantly for the plot as it turns out - a shambling German, curiously named 'Brikbrak', who by some magic device is the one who successfully breaks the power of Alcina: the sorceress, or enchantress, is not, it turns out, insuperable.

But easily the most impressive, and absorbing, of the four characters, was the Frenchman, La Rose (Dafydd Allen), particularly eager to be the one who carries off the lady ('A la charmante' ... 'Ah, monsieur') whose exquisite delivery and truly beguiling voice and attractive lucid delivery sparkled above all else. This was a voice, and a personality, which shone at every juncture. Superb character, irresistible features, and real beauty. Another triumph for Bampton, especially as, due to a mishap, he was only recruited a fortnight before the staging. You'd never have guessed it; every move and gesture fitted the story.

Of course Alcina (Inna Husieva, originally from the Ukraine) is the central character, and is onstage a good deal of the time, ruling the roost, weaving her spells and exercising her charms to entice the men into her net. Her enchanting Cavatina ('I am Alcina, a classical beauty') is just one of her wonderfully compelling moments. She's self-admiring, confident in her powers, and in her talent and allure for drawing men of every hue and colour into her wiles, and to masterfully and wickedly control them. She takes delight, but then perhaps inevitably finds growing boredom in these essentially clueless characters.

So - another big hit for Bampton? As always, in its own very special idiomatic, crazy way, yes, certainly. Bampton exudes joy, revels in the unexpected, seizes every enterprising opportunity for teasing, captivating, invigorating. What an exceptional place to stumble across any mid-July.

Bampton Classical Opera goes from strength to strength. It has established itself as one of the best-loved annual musical festivals in the Cotswolds.
Offering little-known operas from the early classical period, with dedicated professional musicians, it provides a perfect combination of culture and relaxed enjoyment - all at a very reasonable price.

This year's production of Alcina's Island by prolific composer Giuseppe Gazzaniga, was a frolic. The libretto takes a familiar trope from myth and epic poetry, that of the enchanted island where hapless seafarers become captives of a powerful, seductive sorceress. She offers them a draught from a fountain of forgetfulness that will banish thoughts of their former lives. Unless they escape from her dangerous delights they will end up transformed to beasts or rocks.

In this light-hearted version the sailors are from five different nations, creating comic caricatures and misunderstandings.

In the rôle of Alcina, the very talented Ukrainian soprano Inna Husieva gave a commanding performance that made the most of her showy arias. Her ensembles with her two attendants, Clizia and Lesbia, were outstanding, and her transformation in Act Three from a femme fatale into a fearsome fury when her captives seem to have eluded her, was certainly dramatic. Sarah Chae (recognized from last year's Fiera di Venezia) and Charlotte Badham were admirable as the two nymphs. All deserve to be regarded as stars!

Among the stranded sailors, it has to be said that Jonathan Eyers (baritone) as the flamboyant Spaniard stood out in every way. We recognize him from the 2022 production of Haydn's Fool Moon and hope to see him again in future.  Both Monwabisi Lindi (tenor) and Magnus Walker (tenor) drew spontaneous applause for their arias.  And it seemed unbelievable that Daffyd Allen (tenor) took over the rôle of Frenchman La Rose at two week's notice. It was word-perfect and note-perfect.

A splendid job was done by the orchestra, the conductor Thomas Blunt, and the witty translator Gilly French.  If you can still get a ticket for a future performance, do. It's great fun.