Two hundred years before Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin made the first lunar landing, and a century and a half before H.G. Wells’s The First Men in the Moon, the moon was an object of mystery and a symbol both of the irrational and of a higher wisdom.  Eighteenth-century mathematicians were locked in dispute about lunar motion.  People searched for religious meaning in eclipses.  In an age before light pollution, viewing the moon through telescopes became a popular pastime for those who could afford them.  Englishmen accused of murder could plead ‘lunacy’ in mitigation if their crime was committed under a full moon.  At the end of the eighteenth century Blake’s engraving ‘I Want! I Want!’ depicts a child erecting a ladder to the moon: an emblem of human longing for a world free of want and discord.

Earlier in the century the Venetian dramatist Carlo Goldoni had tapped into the spirit of the age with his opera libretto Il mondo della luna (‘The World of the Moon’, or ‘Fool Moon’ in Gilly French’s new translation), whose mock-lunar landscape is at once an evocation of an ideal world free of social differences, and a source of zany satirical comedy.  A character in Goldoni’s play Il teatro comico speaks for the author when he declares: ‘Comedy was created to correct vice and ridicule bad customs.’  Drawing on the commedia dell’arte, the prime object of ridicule in Il mondo della luna is the Pantalone-like figure of Bonafede (literally ‘good faith’): curmudgeonly, lecherous, misogynistic, overly possessive of his daughters  - and, conveniently for everyone else, absurdly gullible.

Opera libretti in the eighteenth century tended to do rounds.  Originally set by Goldoni’s fellow-Venetian Baldassare Galuppi in 1750, Il mondo della luna was appropriated by at least a dozen composers before the end of the century.  For a setting by Gennaro Astarita (Venice, 1775), Goldoni’s two acts were augmented to three, and the finale to Act Two expanded.  It was this modified version of the libretto that Haydn chose for his new comic opera, or dramma giocoso, performed on 3 August 1777 during the lavish wedding celebrations of Count Nicolaus, second son of Haydn’s patron Prince Nicolaus’s Esterházy.

The fabulously wealthy Prince certainly knew how to put on a show at Eszterháza, the mini-Versailles he had conjured up in the remote Hungarian marshes.  As he surely knew, Eszterháza was the only European palace with two purpose-built opera houses: a 400-seater house for staged operas, and a marionette theatre fashioned as a jewel-encrusted grotto.  What Goethe dubbed ‘the Esterházy fairy-kingdom’ was a flamboyant statement of cultural power and prestige, guaranteed to make the Prince’s aristocratic guests go goggle-eyed with mingled admiration and envy.

Reinforcing his point, from the late 1760s the Prince maintained both his own permanent opera company and, in the summer months, a theatrical troupe to perform repertoire ranging from Shakespeare to contemporary farce.  As if that weren’t enough, in the summer of 1777 he engaged a ballet troupe from Vienna: a cue for Il mondo della luna’s many dreamlike dance numbers that evoke the moon-as-paradise.

Like Mozart, Haydn was always careful to tailor his operatic roles to the particular strengths - and limitations - of his singers.  In 1777 two Italian stars famed in buffo roles, tenor Guglielmo Jermoli and baritone Benedetto Bianchi, had recently joined the Esterházy company.  Haydn duly exploited their comic talents in the leading male roles of Il mondo della luna: the bogus astronomer Ecclitico and the credulous Bonafede - though, ironically, Jermoli seems to have left just before the premiere, along with his wife Maria, for whom Haydn composed the role of Lisetta.

Bonafede’s pomposity and lechery are deftly characterised in the opening sequence of short arias and recitatives as he savours life on the ‘moon’ through Ecclitico’s telescope - a symbol, perhaps, of the old man’s inflated libido.  The miser’s aspirations to dignity are constantly undercut by buffo patter.  Transported to a mock-lunar landscape (i.e. Ecclitico’s exotically decorated garden) in Act Two, Bonafede hymns its delights in the aria ‘A verdant paradise’, picturesquely scored with echoing flute, oboes, bassoons and horns.  At one point the old man blithely whistles in imitation of birdsong.  Blurring farce and sensuous beauty, the whole scene seems to parody Orpheus’s Elysian ‘Che puro ciel’ in Gluck’s Orfeo, which Haydn had staged at Eszterháza in 1776.

After his serene opening duet with his servant Cecco (‘O radiant twilight’), duskily scored for bassoons, horns and muted strings, Ecclitico’s music veers between mock-serious (as in the luminous opening of his Act One aria ‘It will be very funny’) and the comic-satirical.  Like Don Alfonso in Così fan tutte, Ecclitico pulls the strings.  The sentiments of his buffo aria in Act Two enumerating women’s follies (‘Ev’ryone knows it’), with its merrily tootling horns, could easily have been mouthed by Mozart’s cynical philosopher.  Goldoni was, though, a champion of women’s rights and at least nominal social equality.  Mocking Bonafede’s misogyny in ‘Ev’ryone knows it’, Ecclitico becomes a spokesman for the author.  Like Alfonso, he is a rationalist and realist.  Yet he is also more sympathetic.  Where Alfonso leaves many questions unanswered, Ecclitico is ultimately a force for good.  Significantly, it is he and his beloved Clarice who sing the opera’s sole love duet, the shimmering, erotically explicit ‘Just like a mountain river’, in Act Three, with its sudden stab of minor-keyed passion at the words ‘Is this sweetness meant for keeping?’  Sung beneath ‘a starlit night with full moon’ (in the original stage direction), this beautiful duet is perhaps the most sheerly voluptuous music in any Haydn opera.

Bonafede’s two daughters, chafing against paternal tyranny, are nicely differentiated, à la Dorabella and Fiordiligi in Così.  The self-willed Clarice (sung in 1777 by the light soprano Catarina Poschwa) defies her bullying father in the perky buffo aria ‘I’m a girl who’s tired of waiting’, egged on by frolicking violins and ringing high horns.  Once on the ‘moon’, she reflects on human folly in the gracefully capricious ‘Many people are impassioned’.

Goldoni typically mixed comic and serious parts in his plays and libretti.  The two parti serie in Il mondo della luna are Clarice’s sister Flaminia and Flaminia’s lover Ernesto.  Both are essentially idealists.  Flaminia, a role composed for the Esterházy company’s leading soprano, Marianna Puttler, has two of the opera’s plums.  Her showcase aria in Act One, ‘Our heads are ruled by reason’, is a vocal concerto full of wide leaps and ‘heroic’ coloratura.  Reason is evoked in a clear, confident C major, while the tyranny and mystery of love (‘For Cupid is a tyrant and utterly invading’) provoke a shift to C minor, with poignantly interwoven violin lines.  Flaminia’s Act 2 aria, ‘If my morning star will gladly guide me’, is a tender love song to Ernesto enriched by piquant solos for bassoon and horns.

For the 1776 Eszterháza production of Gluck’s Orfeo Prince Nicolaus had hired the Italian castrato Pietro Gherardi.  Although castrati were rare in comic opera, Gherardi later took the role of Ernesto in Il mondo della luna.  Haydn establishes his character as a romantic lover in the lyrically beguiling ‘Your eyes brightly shining’, in slow minuet rhythm.  Joining in the fun on the ‘moon’, Ernesto plays up to Bonafede’s misogyny in ‘Sometimes women need to know just who’s in charge’.  In the angular G minor opening, in two-part counterpoint, Ernesto seems to mock Baroque severity, before revealing his true romantic self in the melting second theme.

Completing the cast of seven, Lisetta and Cecco both fall into the commedia dell’arte tradition of sharp-witted servants (think Mozart’s Despina), and typically sing in short-breathed phrases and catchy rhythms.  Fending off her master Bonafede’s advances in ‘I am the woman that I must be’, the minx-like Lisetta proclaims her virtue in alternating sections of demure Andante and fizzing Presto.  In Act Two, initially bewildered as to what is going on, she spars with Bonafede in the duet ‘Do not fear to find me trusty’, then relishes the thought of herself as empress in the mock-regal ‘If you command it, I will obey’.

Haydn tailored the part of Lisetta’s lover Cecco to the comic gifts and unusually wide vocal range of the long-serving Esterházy tenor Leopold Dichtler.  Cecco one of opera buffa’s plebian philosophers, and another mouthpiece for Goldoni himself.  His default mode is ironic amusement at a world gone crazy.  On the moon the normal social order dissolves.  Extravangantly decked out as lunar emperor, Cecco launches into the splendid - and vocally taxing - aria ‘First a miser’.  Catalogue arias were an eighteenth-century stock-in-trade, most famously in Leporello’s ‘Madamina’.  Cecco’s example mingles would-be-imperious phrases with reams of patter lampooning contemporary mores.

Towards the close of Act One Bonafede drinks the elixir that will spirit him to the moon in an accompanied recitative that drifts magically from a terrestrial C major towards the opera’s ‘lunar’ key of E flat.  Haydn then evokes his ‘flight’ in the veiled, gossamer opening of the finale, ‘I am floating, I am flying’.  This is one of those ambivalent moments, familiar in Mozart’s comedies, where absurdity is transmuted into lambent beauty.  As the music slips from major to minor, Clarice and Lisetta fear the old man is dying.  But with a change from Adagio to Presto, tears soon turn to laughter when Ecclitico reads out Bonafede’s ‘will’.  ‘Here’s to the living, the dead are dead’ sing Clarice, Lisetta and Ecclitico in the bouncy 6/8 conclusion.

Anticipating the extended ‘chain’ finales in Mozart’s Da Ponte operas, the finale of Act Two moves in a crescendo of comic tension to an exciting climax.  After the lunar marriage ceremony (‘To the great lunatic emperor do we come to make petition’), Bonafede twigs, too late, that he has been duped. The tempo increases to Presto, and in music of ferocious power that swerves between major and minor, the old man fulminates as the others vainly try to placate him.

Following the convention of the day, Act Three is short and all but redundant dramatically. After the exquisite love duet, Bonafede forgives everyone, eats humble pie and gives his daughters their ample dowries.  In the jolly vaudeville finale all the characters intone the opera’s moral: a day trip to the moon is all that’s needed to restore harmony; and life is better without tantrums and caprice.  Fraudulent science has revealed a world in which none of the characters emerges morally unscathed.  Yet in the time-honoured commedia dell’arte tradition, hope for a more enlightened future lies with the younger generation. 

After the 1777 premiere of Il mondo della luna, an Esterházy family friend dismissed it as ‘Une farce pour la populace et pour les enfants’.  Perhaps he was echoing the opera-mad Prince Nicolaus’s own view.  While Il mondo was never revived at Eszterháza, Haydn drew on several of its numbers for other works. The surprisingly serious overture became the first movement of Symphony No. 63, while Ernesto’s ‘Sometimes women need to know’ was adapted - improbably - as the Benedictus of the so-called Mariazellermesse.

Today, though, Haydn’s lunar fantasy is his least neglected opera, with good reason.  Goldoni’s satire on human folly is delightfully absurd, and Haydn’s tuneful, deftly inventive score meshes perfectly with character and action.  On one level, of course, the piece is completely insane.  Yet amid the farcical silliness there is more humanity in the opera than first meets the eye.  Goldoni’s libretto both ridicules the ridiculous and invites moral reflection.  Similarly, Haydn leavens the comic mayhem with moments of deeper feeling and lyrical enchantment that might surprise those who think of the composer primarily as an amiable funster.

Richard Wigmore is a writer, broadcaster and lecturer, with particular expertise in the Viennese classics, Lieder and opera; amongst many publications, he is the author of the Faber Pocket Guide to Haydn.
 

Since 1993, Bampton Classical Opera has been staging obscure 18th-century operas on the lawn of an Oxfordshire deanery. Literally: there’s no permanent theatre or even much by way of a temporary one. Audiences bring their own picnics and chairs and sit there in Gore-Tex and pac-a-macs, munching away throughout. (We were advised that the opera would move to the church if it rained, though I suspect it would have taken a Thames valley tsunami to shift this crowd.) An amplified announcement requested the relocation of a VW Polo, which was blocking a neighbour’s drive.

But there was nothing ad hoc about the performance of Fool Moon, aka Haydn’s Il mondo della luna. Haydn’s operas tend to wilt in the theatre, but as entertainment for a very English fête champêtre the bubbling absurdity of this Goldoni-based farce was ideal. Three pairs of young lovers convince the tyrannical patriarch Buonafede that he’s been transported to the moon: where, this being 1777, he immediately enquires about Lunar court etiquette. Haydn’s happy, endlessly generous score includes celestial minuets and an ensemble in moon language, as well as some entertainingly flashy arias, delivered with brio by a youthful cast and a pair of lively dancers.

Siân Dicker added just the lightest spritz of pathos as Flaminia while Jonathan Eyers maintained a gangly dignity as Buonafede, despite spending much of Act Two with a colander on his head. If anything, he was almost too genial to play the miser, though that, too, suited the prevailing atmosphere of good-natured lunacy – which extended from Gilly French’s witty and ingenious English translation (perfectly audible in the open air) to the surreal, Clangers-inspired sets by director-designer Jeremy Gray. The rain held off, the orchestra was buoyant, and it all ended happily around a colossal glowing cheese-grater. You probably had to be there but they’re repeating it next month at Westonbirt and in September at St John’s Smith Square, so you still can.

Waxing and waning, harvest and hunter’s, wolf and blue: the phases and names of the moon are many.  It was not a full moon, though, but a ‘Fool Moon’ that settled over Bampton Deanery Gardens for Bampton Classical Opera’s performance of Joseph Haydn’s Il mondo della luna, aa charming dramma giocoso in which the composer and the librettist, Carlo Goldoni, lampoon the absurdity of scientific and romantic pretensions.  Composed for the wedding celebrations of Count Nikolaus Esterházy and Countess Maria Anna Wissenwolf in 1777, the action presents an elaborate plot to deceive a wealthy old misogynist, Bonafede (literally, ‘good faith’), into approving and financing the marriages of his daughters Flaminia and Clarice to their respective beloveds, the impoverished Ernesto and the charlatan astrologo Ecclitico, and at the same time enabling the maid Lisette to wed Cecco, Ecclitico’s servant.  Duped into believing that there is life on the moon, Bonafede drinks a magic potion and awakens convinced he has been transported to lunar realms – in reality he’s in his own back garden.  He is feted by the Moon Emperor and delights in the company of ‘lunar-tics’, as the disguised lovers contrive a triple wedding.  By the time the furious dupe uncovers the hoax it is too late, so he resigns himself, shuts up and pays up.

The characters are commedia archetypes and there’s a lot of expository recitative, especially in Act 1 (although BCO made some effective and judicious cuts), but the inane improbabilities are amusing and Haydn’s score both elegant and vivacious.  Fool Moon, presented in a characteristically droll new translation by Gilly French, received deft handling from the director and designer Jeremy Gray, the farce fanciful rather than frantic, the absurdities exploited but not inflated.

In a show-stealing performance as Bonafede, Jonathan Eyers conveyed the curmudgeonly lecher’s pomposity, possessiveness and gullibility with equal aplomb, commanding the stage with his imposing bearing, characterful baritone and fine instinct for the buffoonery of the physical comedy.  His ‘floating flight’ to a moon paradise for misogynists in the Act 1 finale brilliantly fused low farce with luminous wonder, and Bonafede’s long aria lauding the charms of the lunar city was astutely paced and very funny.

The tenor Nathan Vale’s Ecclitico was a sympathetic rogue, his smooth, stylish phrasing making the bogus astronomer aptly persuasive – for if Ecclitico is the source of the deceit, he also the ultimate bringer of harmony.  The tenor Sam Harris exchanged Cecco’s overalls for flamboyant gilded robes and confidently rose to the challenge of the ‘Emperor’s’ imperious patter aria, ridiculing contemporary mores.

Ernesto (the mezzo-soprano Catherine Backhouse) was a beret-wearing artist who, transformed into Hesperus, the morning star, winningly captured the painter’s romantic dreaminess.  Siân Dicker was Ernesto’s high-flown beloved, Flaminia, putting her full-bodied spinto skilfully through its paces in a Fiordiligi-like exploration of reason and love.  As her more pragmatic sister, the soprano Iúnó Connolly sang with agile vivacity.  Her closing love duet with Vale shone with sensuousness.

As the maidservant Lisette, Margo Arsane displayed a richly-coloured mezzo-soprano and a soubrette’s liveliness, tickling Bonafede’s fancy with her feather duster when it suited her plans, both marital and monetary.  Harriet Cameron and Tilly Goodwin were nimble servants and moon-nymphs, contributing much to the slickness of the splendid ensemble-finales; the ‘organized chaos’ of hallucination, lamentation and exhilaration at the end of Act 2 was masterful music-drama.  Thomas Blunt conducted the BCO orchestra in a pacy, colourful reading that did not neglect the moments of sensitivity and insight.

The opera’s apparent moral might be that a trip to the moon can restore human harmony, but Bampton Classical Opera showed that Haydn and Goldoni are less interested in journeying into space than in pulling pompous patriarchs down to earth.

If the tarot pack turns up both the Moon and the Lovers, a problematic fantasy is on the cards. In Il mondo della luna, composed for 1777 summer season at Eszterháza, Joseph Haydn and the librettist Carlo Goldoni lampoon both romantic and scientific pretensions and so expose the vacuous absurdity of human morals and mores. It’s fitting, then, that in Bampton Deanery Gardens, Bampton Classical Opera should conjure a moon that is not ‘full’ but ‘fool’, Gilly French’s characteristically pithy new translation of Haydn’s ‘lunatic’ dramma giocoso complementing director-designer Jeremy Gray’s deft production – the farce fanciful rather than frantic, the absurdities exploited but not inflated. Goldoni’s action presents an elaborate and ridiculous plot to deceive the misogynistic old lecher Buonafede into persuading him to approve and finance the marriages of his daughters Flaminia and Clarice to their respective beloveds, Ernesto, here a painter, and the quack astronomer Ecclitico. A magic potion tricks Buonafede into believing that he’s been transported to the moon. As he delights in the company of "lunar-tics", the disguised lovers contrive a lunar wedding. Set in the Edwardian era, a period of revolutionary scientific change, the two acts of full moon shift from bourgeois domesticity to cosmological barminess. The outsize telescope-cum-magic-lantern through which Buonafede gleefully espies lunar happenings becomes a giant cheese-grater around which moon-mice feast on the planet’s natural resources. Zany dancers in silver excess and a gold-draped Emperor with a starry entourage charms the foolish Buonafede, whose delight knows no bounds. In a show-stealing performance, baritone Jonathan Eyers conveys the curmudgeon’s pompousness and gullibility with equal aplomb, commanding the stage with his imposing, fine singing and astute instinct for physical comedy. Nathan Vale’s Ecclitico is a sympathetic rogue, his smooth tenor and elegant phrasing aptly beguiling – after all, he’s the source of deceit and the bringer of harmony. As Cecco, the quack’s assistant, tenor Sam Harris swaps his overalls for the Emperor’s robes and rises to the challenges of his imperious patter aria. Catherine Backhouse captures Ernesto’s romantic dreaminess, while Siân Dicker and Iúnó Connolly skilfully distinguish Flaminia and Clarice’s high-flown and pragmatic natures. The latter’s closing love duet with Ecclitico is a sumptuous highlight. Margo Arsane’s Lisetta is a Despina-like maid – feisty and vivacious. As servants and moon-nymphs, Harriet Cameron and Tilly Goodwin contribute much to the slickness of the ensemble finales. Conductor Thomas Blunt balances pace and elegance, drawing colourful playing from the BCO Orchestra. All may end well when the scales fall from Buonafede’s eyes, and he learns some important lessons, but Haydn’s moon is no utopia, and Bampton Classical Opera leaves no artifice unmasked or un-mocked.

If the eighteenth-century Enlightenment project sought to return to first principles and restructure society according to the precepts of reason, then its exponents in the arts sought to achieve something similar but often with more of a sense of irony and wit harnessed to their creative ingenuity, than the earnest rational approach of philosophers and theorists. Haydn’s opera from 1777, using a libretto based upon an earlier work by Carlo Goldoni, takes up contemporary scientific researches and enquiries by imagining what life might be like on the moon, shorn of the conceits, hierarchies and assumptions of societies on earth. At the same time it casts a satirical eye upon those scientific methods in the person of the charlatan astronomer Ecclitico, who uses the discipline to dupe the miserly Bonafede, the father of the woman, Clarice, whom he loves.

Jeremy Gray’s production deftly preserves both serious and comic elements. On the one hand, costumes hint at the early-twentieth-century, as does the Picasso-like, Cubist portrait of a woman’s head which Ernesto is seen creating at one point during the narrative, indicating a time of radically changing cultural perspectives upon the world, as well as being roughly contemporary with discoveries in the fields of astronomy and physics by the likes of Einstein and Hubble. On the other, just as the work presages Mozart’s Cosí fan tutte in lovingly sending up the intellectual discourses of the Enlightenment as well as the format of opera, the science of astronomy here is not all it seems: Ecclitico first purports to show Bonafede the world of the moon through his ‘ecliptic’ machine, projecting images to him which exploit his own somewhat lascivious and misogynist outlook; Ecclitico’s hobby is tellingly referred to in a few instances as ‘astrology’ rather than ‘astronomy’ in Gilly French’s often wry and deliberately glib rendering of the text; the ‘moon nymphs’ first appear as mice munching sage Derby, as the metaphor for the old fable of the moon being made of green cheese (and the ecliptic becomes a huge grater); and in a clear nod to Cosí, Bonafede is brought round from his drug-induced sleep by means of a magnet. With the recent, vainglorious attempts by some billionaires to hurtle themselves into space, the opera reminds us that the cosmos remains a place for the projection – both literally and conceptually – of all sorts of fantasies, for good and bad.

Just as Haydn’s original score makes ironic use of certain set pieces of operatic form, such as the pompous triumphal march for the Emperor of the Moon (really Bonafede’s servant, Cecco, in disguise) the production wittily sends up the coloratura of Flaminia’s aria by having Clarice fan her after her heated vocal exertions, and there are a few references to appropriate popular songs in the work such as ‘Fly me to the moon’. Taken together with the fancy dress and frolics of the characters in the mock lunar landscape (actually Bonafede’s garden, and therefore aptly taking place outside in the Deanery Garden at Bampton) it all adds up to a delightful whole which successfully captures the effervescent spirit of Haydn’s delectable opera.

The idiomatic cast ably realise the range of roles in this work, above all Jonathan Eyers’s wonderfully self-effacing performance as Bonafede, discharged with such brio in both his singing and choreography that we almost forget he is the tyrannical father who has had to be tricked in order that his daughters may be able to marry their lovers. Nathan Vale remains a calm, cool presence as the astronomer in carrying out his trick, acting more like the wise Alfonso of Cosí instead of seeking to upstage Eyers’s Bonafede in any buffoonery, and demonstrating his worth as the spouse of Iúnó Connolly’s forthright and determined Clarice. Siân Dicker is equally committed as her sister, Flaminia, with sprightly control of her coloratura, resulting in some of the musical highlights of this performance. Catherine Backhouse takes the trouser role of her lover, Ernesto, singing with somewhat wide, wiry vibrato which offers contrast if not always absolute musical assurance. As the servant couple Lisetta and Cecco, Margo Arsane and Sam Harris sing competently and without affectation.

Thomas Blunt leads the Orchestra of Bampton Classical Opera in a rigorous account of the music.  Flutes, oboes and bassoons bring out picturesque detail and colour, whilst horns, trumpets and timpani underpin more dramatic moments. Strings and harpsichord maintain consistent energy and good spirits with rarely any of the weaknesses which can arise when necessarily reduced numbers mean that the parts remain exposed. Here the whole ensemble coheres to good effect in Haydn’s always congenial music. Even if Il mondo della luna is not an entirely neglected work, it is a timely reminder of his sizeable operatic output which unfairly remains in the shadow of Mozart’s later masterpieces.

Bampton Classical Opera is nearly thirty years old and is going from strength to strength. The company specializes in putting on unusual 18th-century operas and proving that they can still be highly entertaining as well as musically rich and rewarding.

Haydn’s Il mondo della luna (literally the world of the moon, translated here as Fool Moon), a comic opera from 1777, is the latest of their productions. Based on a play by Carlo Goldoni, it tells a hilarious tale about how an outrageous rogue, Ecclitico, who professes to be an astronomer, tricks a pompous old fool (Bonafede) into believing he has been transported to the Moon, where he meets the Emperor of the Moon and is presented at his court.

Dazzled by the grandeur he finds there, Bonafede is ordered by the Emperor (really Ecclitico’s assistant Cecco) to allow his two daughters, Flaminia and Clarice, to marry two of his lunar courtiers who are really their very terrestrial suitors, Ecclitico and Ernesto. Bonafede does not realize he has been tricked until it is too late. The whole plot is a romp, and Haydn’s music is as we would expect, inventive, melodious and colourful.

As Ecclitico, Nathan Vale was up to all the versatile demands of this rôle which combines crafty rogue with triumphant hero. Ecclitico is in love with Clarice, and is determined to wed her despite the meanness of her father. He explains his ingenious plan to Cecco and Ernesto who happily go along with it. Ernesto, a struggling artist, was originally a castrato rôle and is sung in this production by Catherine Backhouse. He agrees to disguise himself absurdly as the Morning Star, Hesperus, because he is in love with Flaminia, Bonafede’s elder daughter. As Flaminia, Siân Dicker has the most demanding lead soprano rôle.  While all the sopranos were excellent, she stood out, putting passion and expression into her virtuoso aria, “Our heads are ruled by reason” and her duets with Ernesto. In the rôle of Clarice, young soprano Iúnó Connolly was strong and feisty.

Young New Zealand baritone Jonathan Eyers sings Bonafede, the ogre father who won’t allow his daughters to marry because he doesn’t want to part with the dowries and, anyway, he is far more interested in his own lecherous designs on the young maid Lisetta. Eyers is a confident and talented comedic performer, who made his tall, thin figure into a comic feature in itself. As Lisetta, Margo Arsane was vivacious and sparkling, while in the rôle of Cecco, Sam Harris nearly stole the whole show. Resplendent in his gilded costume as the Emperor of the Moon, he sang a splendid aria about how earthlings appear from a lunar point of view, “Life is mad on planet Earth”.  He uses his power as Emperor to obtain Lisetta as his wife and Bonafede is tricked into bestowing a handsome settlement on the pair.
The orchestra gave a fine performance under the conductor Thomas Blunt, and it was amusing to hear the players murmur in protest at a joke about terrestrial musicians.

The witty rhyming translation of the libretto has been done by Gilly French, who was one of the founders of Bampton Opera, along with director Jeremy Gray. Verbal jokes and visual jokes  - such as the use of a giant cheese grater as scenery -  ensured a light-hearted atmosphere, belying the careful research behind the production. The audience had the added pleasure of the idyllic surroundings in the gardens of the Deanery at Bampton, courtesy of hosts Mr and Mrs Armitage.

Events like Bampton Opera are a treat and among the great pleasures of summer in Oxfordshire. Music lovers should already be scrutinizing their future productions and booking for them well in advance.

Bampton Classical Opera, near Oxford, England, always proves one of the most enjoyable, unmissable events of an English Summer.

Why should this be? Gilly French and Jeremy Gray founded this joyous, inspired company in 1993: its thirtieth anniversary will fall next year. Its staged operas are invariably sung in English, nearly always in their own lively, hilarious and brilliant new translations.
This year Bampton are staging not one, but two operas: one as usual in mid-July, late August and early September (the last, in London), What we saw and heard - and relished - this summer was Haydn's Il mondo della luna. Bampton has produced numerous stellar productions, but this - the first of Haydn's operas to be staged (in 1776) at Esterházy, Hungary (where he was employed from 1766 until 1790), which they with typical cleverness renamed 'Fool Moon' - was definitely one of their best.

Bampton's priority is breathing life into forgotten eighteenth-century repertoire, the bulk of it ignored by the UK's major companies, in lively, relaxed, mostly outdoor, jovial and accessible productions of exceptional musical standards at a manageable price, with some of the best of the country's young singers. Likewise gifted conductors, many starting out on their careers.

In their convivial settings over three decades they have ferreted out countless gems, like the Spaniard Vicente Martín y Soler's La capricciosa corretta (written for London with libretto by Lorenzo Da Ponte; its composer was much admired by Mozart); young Stephen Storace's The Twins - after Shakespeare's The Comedy of Errors (again, libretto by Da Ponte, and also a beloved protégé of Mozart). Brilliantly, Salieri's superb, Verdi-rivalling Falstaff; the bass title role played by the magnificent Mark Saberton, then a Bampton regular; Mozart, Schikaneder and friends' The Philosopher's Stone; Nicolas Isouard's Cinderella; Georg (Jiří) Benda's Romeo and Juliet - embracing in total ten or more UK premieres.

Gilly French and Jeremy Gray have set an enviable and outstanding pattern by giving a first break to singers and (here) conductors who now have world reputations. Bampton, year on year, has a gift for winkling out talent.

The story of Il mondo della luna is yet another of the 50-plus opera libretti by the (much-set) playwright Carlo Goldoni. (Haydn used I think three, but Il mondo, or texts poached from it, was used by over half a dozen other composers.) It's about a crazed, addled pseudo-philosopher (Bonafede - baritone Jonathan Eyers) whom, being excessively obsessed with telescopes and things planetary, a gathering of his family and friends manage to kid that he has indeed travelled to the moon. Much humour follows, wonderfully and bizarrely captured in Jeremy Gray's as usual ingenious production (as both director and designer).

In short, it's a giggle from start to finish in this joyous, beautifully sung staging. One of the special things about Bampton's idyllic garden setting - gloriously apt for picnics - at the old Deanery in that charming village is that, with the help of some perfectly placed background box bushes, every word bounces back and can be heard. For once, no surtitles are needed for texts in English. Another top benefit is Bampton's own orchestra, which has got better and better over the years as players enthusiastically choose to return: indeed some of them wouldn't miss it for anything.

Here, under Thomas Blunt, who has an astounding CV at the highest levels, and who drew some of the best, spot-on precise comic bonbons - indeed teasing merrymaking - I have yet heard from Bampton's orchestra. Woodwind exciting as a full section, in ensemble or in numerous obbligati - no clarinets at this point, of course. Every time the bassoon intervenes, such as following Bonafede's snappy first aria, there was a special tingle. The strings were especially brilliant in several pianissimi (actually even better - quadruple piano) that Blunt held them to, and hilarious music for the 'flight', for instance; quite spectacular, or rather lulling - preceding the duet between Ecclitico - originally an alto, but later altered by Haydn to a tenor - and Flaminia. Or the amazingly original, all but daring Overture to Act II. Almost exotic horns, important roles for cellos with or without double bass support: it was all there. And who said Haydn couldn't write decent operas? (Bampton have specialised in Haydn and rare Gluck: good for them.) Here Haydn's deftness and wit could just as easily be Mozart.

It was all classic Bampton: if anything, it confirmed that Bampton never fails.

Most of the time, of course, the orchestra is employed supporting recitatives and arias, sometimes forcibly, at other times delicately: both ends of the scale reinforced the drama superbly. Cheeky Cecco's arias (Sam Harris), posing ludicrously as Emperor of the moon (to Bonafede: 'Here you have no authority'), his role being to prevent Bonafede banning his two daughters' marriages. (The nutty enterprise actually succeeds: Leopold Dichter, Esterháza's original Cecco, sang an amazing sixty operas there between 1766 and 1788.)

There's also a gorgeous piano aria, and another marvellously witty showstopper later on, for Ernesto, one of the suitors, masquerading as Hesperus, the Morning Star, and supplying a bewitching travesti role for Catherine Backhouse; some glorious coloratura for Margo Arsane (Lisetta, the maid), who moves enticingly (maybe Movement Director Karen Halliday had a hand in it); and goes on to another stupendous, two-part, aria in Act II.

But so it went on ... and on. Flaminia's big aria (sung by Siân Dicker), strikingly confident and assured in Act I, beautifully on target in highest register (plus another for Flaminia in Act II); moreover a glorious - essentially recitative - duet for the two (non-competing) sisters. Jonathan Eyers' Bonafede memorably encompassed those recitatives, so they emerged almost like extra arias; and a hoot (pun) in what Haydn offers as a fluttery 'bird' aria ('Che mondo amabile' in Italian). He hadn't the dottiness of the enthralling Rodney (Earl) Clarke's dazzling Bonafede at the Royal Academy, but he carried off the role, especially that fine, polished recitative, adroitly. Every one of Haydn's arias felt fresh, inventive, with a delicious comic sense. And Gilly French's often rhyming English libretto (sample: 'lunar ... sooner') was aerated and so well devised as to give all the cast the chance to excel.

I haven't (shame!) mentioned Nathan Vale, Ecclitico, a spoof astronomer - his name very nearly means 'eclipse' - in starry headgear, who played a key role in the lunar duping of the kiddable Bonafede. (The aide's name virtually means 'gullible'.) I have previously, when he was still quite young, in English song, deemed his voice to be a little light, and lacking in force. But certainly - except perhaps in his opening aria here - what we heard from Nathan was much more than that: one might call it full-voiced, a beautiful tone (that was always the case), sweet, charming, and able to bestride moments of strongish orchestral accompaniment. A pleasure, in short. Haydn writes one rather scintillating duet for Vale's Ecclitico with the other daughter, Flaminia's more wilful sister Clarice (Iúnó Connolly), who fielded another delicious voice, though slightly puzzlingly retained her green moonskirt when earth was finally revisited.

Put all together in a Mozart-anticipating full-bodied Finale (all seven wondrously spirited), and one has a musical experience of staggering high quality.

But of course the other thing to be mentioned - and praised to the skies - is Jeremy Gray's direction (on a relatively compact stage; perhaps some experimentation with apron might not dislodge the audience unduly); and his - as so often - utterly surprising, original and inspired props, which captured the zany quality of this barmy tale so perfectly. (His moon was scintillatingly realistic: how appropriately he supplied, as usual, such an entertaining background.)

There was loads of ingenuity here. Moves were constantly well-plotted. Gray's telescope - and the use of it - was a scream, as was much more of the paraphernalia. An old-fashioned (Edwardian?; Victorian?) wheelchair made an entrance. Gray imported - as 'moon nymphs' (clad in Apollo astronaut white attire, a cheeky innovation) - two dancers, both exquisite (Harriet Cameron, Tilly Goodwin), who neatly and expertly raised a laugh each time they appeared. In fact Gray's delaying of their exit at the very end - I think he contrived that earlier, too - till all the rest had gone off was, well, in my book, a touch of genius.

There was more dancing, perhaps a little inhibited by the taut stage. The gear (including astronaut's bubble-shaped helmet) Bonafede was laden with to launch his moonshot to the Sea of Tranquillity - conveniently the moon's dark, or less illuminated side - was so hilarious one gasped with amazement, although countless previous Bampton productions have been as clever visually. Some potty antics with a tiny plane (spaceship) greatly amused.

A green sceptre glowed - all the characters by an impressive quick change now being green (green cheese?), the wardrobe here by Pauline Smith and Anne Baldwin - nursed of course by Gray, each scene aptly lit (and accurately timed) by Bampton's regular lighting operator Ian Chandler, who was at the back just behind the audience and me. Maidservant Lisetta, crowned as Cecco's Empress, played artfully along with this ubiquitous nonsense. And Bonafede of course ultimately concedes.

In their pre-publicity, Gilly French and Jeremy Gray effectively apologised for performing one of Haydn's better-known operas this summer. But no apology is needed. The fun and the craziness were perfect for Bampton's grateful and appreciative audience. They will continue to unearth hidden gems, and their gift for turning these into massively entertaining productions will - one hopes - not cease.

 

The huge revival in performances of once-forgotten Handel operas seems to have had little effect on the fortunes of the even more neglected operas by Joseph Haydn.

The once authoritative Kobbé’s Complete (sic) Opera Book contains not a single reference to any of his 22 operas in its 1,400 pages, despite the Dorati recordings of 1978, and apart from occasional productions at Wexford, and more recently in Italy and Germany, they remain a rarity on the stage.

Be thankful, therefore, for the enterprise of Bampton Classical Opera, staging its sixth Haydn opera since its formation in 1993, which makes it surprising that it has taken until now to choose his currently most popular piece, Il Mondo della Luna. Perhaps it was the lively English Touring Opera version of 2014 that made artistic directors Gilly French and Jeremy Gray until now search out even rarer fare.

The libretto by Carlo (Servant of Two Masters) Goldoni is a piece of inspired lunacy satirising the Age of Reason written for an Esterhazy wedding. The credulous Bonafede is tricked into thinking he has been transported to the moon, where women are obligingly subservient, and where he is again fooled into agreeing the marriage of his two daughters and their maid to their three suitors.

The production is charmingly modest—a large box camera cum Tardis for space travel taking the place of Haydn’s telescope—and designed to fit the inside / outside settings at Bampton’s touring venues.

French’s free verse translation is a delight, delivered with exemplary clarity by the young cast. Goldoni might applaud the bogus astronomer Ecclitico’s claim "to foster a life as an imposter" but would have pondered the meaning of an original rhyme of "Heaven" with "Apollo Eleven".

Sian Dicker stands out in the seria role of Flaminia, cast as a painter with Picasso-like tendencies. Her huge voice is agile in coloratura and produces a thrilling sound at the top of the range, so much so that it might be even more effective if held back ever so slightly.

The tall, clean-cut Jonathan Eyers dominates the stage as Bonafede, not only for the quality of his rich, powerful bass, but by playing the difficult role of a complete idiot with absolute conviction. Nathan Vale’s exudes conman charm as Ecclitico, Iuno Connolly displays depth of tone beneath Clarice’s flightiness, Margo Arsane is a suitably sparky maid and Sam Harris her amusing amor, with Catherine Backhouse bringing a rich mezzo to the trouser role of Ernesto. Conductor Thomas Blunt and the onstage orchestra (at Westonbirt) bring out the harmonic subtleties of Haydn's score and never overpower the singers.

Fool Moon can also be seen at St John’s, Smith Square, London on Friday 16 September.

All day we and our guest have been talking about your ‘Fool Moon’ last night.  All in all, for its music, its production, its singers, its costumes….in fact everything, we thought it the best thing you have done so far.  You have all become so good at what you do. It was a most blissful evening, and we do thank you with all our hearts.

While [X’s] Serse was ruined by having 10 unnecessary actors on stage, climbing ladders and going through picture frames, your two actors really fitted in well.  [Y’s] Alcina was totally ruined by the director. [Z’s] Cosi and Orfeo were very good, but your opera was easily the best.

This company could seduce even the most resistant critic into the world of opera.

…a most fantastic performance! So witty, loved the rhymes, and the orchestra and the singers were excellent, as was the set.

…the location was great, the performance was excellent, the singers universally excellent, then orchestra stunningly good, the libretto delightful.

Loved the music, loved the libretto, loved the staging. You are so inventive with what you can do with limited resources.

Probably the best yet in terms of fun and translation!

It was absolutely wonderful, especially the rhymes… your best yet

…absolutely brilliant. Never enjoyed an opera more… fabulous translation

It's a delightful evening; sipping wine, outside, listening to opera - marvellous!!

I thought this was a splendid production, as good as I can remember in 20 years; the young singers were excellent, they had an infectious sense of fun and considerable talent. The orchestra was crisp and clear and the whole production seemed great fun and bristling with energy and musicality.

We just love the atmosphere in your lovely garden and the greeting was great too

I thought it was excellent - the quality of the performers, orchestra, setting and production and the evident quality of research and attention to detail that goes into the production - very good pre performance session. This includes the opportunity for younger rising musician/singers to be part of such a reputable event… this was such a good quality event at all levels

Friendly atmosphere, excellent loos and warm welcome from bar staff!

Please keep going, and continue the pre-performance talk, which is always so informative

…a fabulous night had by all members of our party. Thank you Bampton Classical Opera.

What a fabulous performance from everyone! The singing and playing was first class and the lack of scenery, due to the closure of the surrounding streets [around St John's Smith Square], became irrelevant, such was the skill of the production and the cast. Thanks for lifting our spirits.