In Germany, where linguistic precision reigns supreme in musical matters, Glyndebourne Touring Opera's La Traviata would be dubbed a "neueinstudierung". The word has no English equivalent, but it effectively means that the opera has been re-directed from scratch using the sets from a pre-existing production.
John Gunter's designs were first seen in 1988 when the director was Peter Hall. Oppressive, mirrored walls and the occasional hint of Boucher-type porn conjure up the claustrophobic, noctambulist world where Majella Cullagh's Violetta works as a high-class prostitute. The country retreat, where she and Edgaras Montvidas's Alfredo enjoy their brief idyll, gives on to vast open spaces that suggest infinite possibilities for escape. Time, however, is running out, its passage marked by the clocks that dominate each scene - except for the close, when, as Violetta says, it's already too late. When David Kempster's Germont takes a swipe with his cane at one of these timepieces, we know he is hastening Violetta's end.
It's a measure of Christopher Cowell's brilliance as a director that his staging flows seamlessly into Gunter's designs. Cowell's social and psychological insights are often acute. We first see Cullagh in world-weary isolation, trapped in her gilded world, while the men who want her stand outside, ogling at her through the windows. The timorous flash of pleasure that lights up her face when she begins to understand the impulsive sincerity of Montvidas's affection speaks volumes. Later, however, when their relationship comes apart, the consequences are disquieting: Montvidas, calling her a whore, parades her like a chattel before abusively stuffing his payment for her services into her clothing.
Musically it's brilliant, with not a weak performance anywhere. Cullagh is often breathtaking, vividly alert to every shade of meaning in text and score and wonderfully capable of suggesting, vocally as well as physically, the ravages of the illness that consumes her. Montvidas is all boyish intensity and elegance, though you're always aware of the temper that lurks behind the impetuous facade. Kempster's Germont is the most finely detailed performance of the role I've seen - a wonderful study of a man whose emotions are at odds with his sense of morality, while the conductor, Richard Farnes, drives the score onwards with a high-voltage energy that churns with emotional desperation. Highly recommended.
· In rep until October 25. Box office: 01273 813813. Then touring.
