Castleward's Traviata is a strange and chilly mixture. The atmosphere is not helped by the conductor, Valentin Reymond, who keeps the emotional heart of the music at a distance (his moments of blazing fire seem all the stranger for the coolness of their surroundings), and frequently ignores the expressive needs of his singers (though, in general, his approach is by no means unshapely).
Director Thomas de Mallet Burgess, taking his cue from the real-life character on whom Violetta is based, seems intent on setting her up as a cultured courtesan, with the emphasis on the culture. Early in the opera, Elizabeth Woollett's Violetta would pass as a concerned mother, and she dies surrounded by books.
In truth, the only really convincing presence in the early stages is the Alfredo of David Newman, hasty of character but with a vocal security that sets him off from the rest of the cast. Woollett's domesticity and evident caring notwithstanding, the Germont pere/Violetta
confrontation of Act II - nicely set, with tall, conservatory-style windows by Laura Hopkins - passes for naught. It's not until the return to Paris for the confrontation between Alfredo and Violetta, that this production really connects. From then on, Woollett takes on added dimensions, showing new resources, both vocal and emotional, and raising her performance to an altogether higher level.
