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 Grétry, with the basis for his opera-comique Zémire et Azor. Later, with additional musical material from Niccolò Joumelli 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.
Alexander Hall
Zemira e Azor
Italian version of Grétry’s opera-comique Zemire et Azor to a libretto by Mattia Verazi
English translation by Gilly French and Jeremy Gray
Music by André-Ernest-Modeste Grétry
Sung in English
A Bampton Classical Opera Production
Cast and Production Staff:
Zemira – Ffion Edwards; Azor – Gwilym Bowen; Fatima – Siân Dicker; Lesbia – Rachel Porter; Sandro – Samuel Pantcheff; Ali – Andrew Irwin
Chroma, conductor Andrew Griffiths
Director – Jeremy Gray; Associate Director – Harriet Cameron; Costumes – Pauline Smith & Anne Baldwin; Lighting – Ian Chandler; Visuals – David Hudd & Keith Farr; Répétiteur & Harpsichord – Alex Norton
Smith Square Hall, London, 18 September 2026
Top image: Ffion Edwards (Zemira)
All photos © Bampton Classical Opera