A Visit to Friends: Matthews and Boyd shoot the lights out in opera debut

It would be nothing short of a tragedy if the Matthews and Boyd stellar opera debut proved to be their swansong.

The tell was buried in the final line, page 41, of the Aldeburgh Festival programme credits. A Visit to Friends, world premiere, composer Colin Matthews and libretto by author William Boyd. Dog handlers were involved.

Not of itself unusual. But certainly promising. In Aida, there are sometimes elephant handlers. At Met performances of La bohème and Falstaff, invariably horse and donkey handlers. A herpetologist minding the ENO snake in Akhnaten.

The manifestation of operatic fauna always heightens audience expectations. Will they poop, neigh, hiss, strangle or unexpectedly lift a leg against the crinoline of the lead soprano?

But deep in the Aldeburgh small print was an unexpected bonus. One of the dog handlers was none other than Mark-Anthony Turnage, composer, basking in the glory of his recent, fine Festen at the Royal Opera House. Never knew Turnage had a day job.

More burrowing. Rachael Hewer, (aka ”Roo” on her Instagram page), the director of A Visit to Friends, is Turnage’s partner. The co-dog handlers, Susan and Ian Hewer are clearly of the tribe.

As is Shosty, the stage dog, who behaved impeccably. Shosty hosts his/her own “wellness walkies” when not treading the boards as a thespian-pooch.

This opera, billed as a first effort for Matthews and Boyd, clearly had promising genes if even the dog handler was one of Britain’s foremost composers. And Roo is no slouch as a director. She self-describes as “A multi-award-winning opera director with absolutely no self-esteem”.

Clearly in line for the 2025 title, Self-Deprecator of the Year, at the October International Opera Awards jamboree in Athens, Roo numbers ENO, Glyndebourne, ROH, Garsington, Buxton among others, and a catalogue of extensive television and film work among her credits. The operatic genes of A Visit to Friends, must have been convincing for Roo to back it as a novice entry in the Aldeburgh 2025 stakes. Maybe this crew knew what they were doing.

Not wrong. Visit finished its 90-minute Snape Maltings outing triumphantly, to acclamation from a packed grandstand – a sell-out – proof that Matthews and Boyd could turn their already well-proven expertise as composer and wordsmith to a completely new genre. And shoot the lights out.

A Visit with Friends is based on a play by Anton Chekhov which was never included in his collected works because the author thought it too auto-biographical. About a man frightened off by the competing affections of two strong-minded women.

It was the precursor to The Cherry Orchard. Boyd, intrigued by the drama, incorporated it in his play, Longing, which enjoyed a sell-out run at Hampstead Theatre in 2013.

In 2019, he received an unsolicited letter from Matthews suggesting they co-operate in writing an opera. The duo hit it off over a lunch at the Chelsea Arts Club. I’ve never failed to hit anything off over lunch at the Chelsea Arts Club. It’s a “can do” sort of space.

Two decisions were, in my view, critical in bringing Visit successfully to the stage. Matthews decided to write the score steeped in the sound world of Alexander Scriabin, the “difficult” Russian composer and contemporary of Chekhov.

Boyd conceived a libretto based on blank verse, allowing the words to flow naturally for a singing voice. Would that some experienced librettists would take the hint.

Telling the story in elegant simplicity. For example, the character Vanessa singing about inner conflict:

In a dark wood,

still early in my life,

a strange man beckoned.

He seemed to want to lead me

On a road unbeckoned.

And I followed him slowly.

We came to a point

where the road divided.

Each way seemed ideal.

There is a hint of Robert Frost hanging in the air. A Road Not Taken. The clarity of expression is exquisite. The balance between “beckoned” and “unbeckoned,” two lines later, almost Shakespearean.

This style would prove essential in conveying the subtle nuances of the plot. No word uttered but that it was sung. Indeed, in future productions – and there surely will be many – I suggest an experiment. Abandon supertitles.

This is one of the few operas sung in English that really doesn’t need them. Every voice was left to occupy its comfort zone and the singers enunciated clearly. Phrasing had no awkward corners. Hard to believe that Boyd was writing for the human voice for the first time.

The sound world created by Matthews is luminous, riffing off Scriabin’s natural synaesthesia – seeing colour in music. Later Scriabin can be inaccessible, but in the period leading up to and including his second Piano Sonata, the troubled Russian created a lush, tonal and dramatic sound world.

To appreciate the point hit the above link for a performance by pianist Yevgeny Sudbin. In my opinion, one the most acute Scriabin exponents on today’s circuit.

And how better to tell Chekhov’s tale of troubled love than in the voice of a composer plagued with a similar dilemma. That would be Scriabin. Not Matthews. Scriabin visited Chekhov in Yalta. Maybe they compared notes on difficult romance.

The opera is based on the conceit that they composed an opera, which was lost and rediscovered in a dusty Moscow archive. Composer, Mr. No-Name.

Visit is an opera within an opera, showing the interactions between five real life characters who are preparing the opera and three of the characters who appear in it. Nadia, played by real life Natalie, Varia, by Vanessa and Misha, Marcus. You get the drift.

The other two characters in the rehearsals are Gregory, the Director, and Chris a repetiteur.

Richard Strauss played the “opera within an opera” card in Ariadne auf Naxos, milking every opportunity for conflict, confusion and thwarted passions. So, it’s a proven formula.

In Visit, Misha is a lawyer returning to a dilapidated country estate to sort out the affairs of Varia and Nadia, who are both in love with him.

It turns out that Rehearsal Marcus – Opera Misha - has not really bothered to bone up on the plot. Opera Varia was involved with Opera Misha years before. Opera Nadia was a little girl then but developed a crush on him.

The fun starts when it becomes obvious that the opera plot is mirrored in real life. Opera Misha has no room for love in his thinking, but is the same true for Rehearsal Marcus?

There is much toing and froing. Misha kissing Nadia, Varia catching them at it, In the garden, Varia wanting a kiss. Nadia, seeing them, spoiling her entrance by calling Misha “Marcus”. Dead giveaway.

Meanwhile, the hapless Director, Gregor, tries to keep emotions even. But the bust-up inevitably comes when Marcus decides to leave in reality. The girls are too hot to handle. Natalie and Marcus are dismissed by Gregor and the opera will have to be recast. Vanessa has the last word.

The staging of mayhem is never easy, but Hewer never missed a trick. Her characters’ every emotion was depicted in glance and action.

Designer, Leanne Vandenbussche, presented rotating scenery which moved between rehearsal room and stage. You almost always knew where you were. Except when the set was occasionally turned 90 degrees to the audience, when you may have been in either space. No-man’s land. By choice.

Slowly, the truth about the girls’ passion for Marcus overwhelmed the action – and the outcome was inevitable. No-one was gratified. The grit in the Chekhov oyster.

Varis/Vanessa was London-based German mezzo soprano, Lotte Betts Dean. She had truly mastered her dual role as the relationship with Marcus slowly fizzed out of control.

Nadia/Natalia was soprano Susanna Hurrell, playing two vulnerable characters sensitively and with a beautifully tempered voice.

Baritone Marcus Farnsworth sang Maisha/Marcus and successfully convinced the audience that he was a non-committal cad. In the opera – and in rehearsal. Gregor was sung by a convincingly baffled Edward Hawkins and Gary Matthewman, the repetiteur.

Jessica Cottis conducted the Aurora Orchestra and wrung everything from the Matthews’ Scriabin- inspired score. Wonderfully flowing and atmospheric.

I hope this opera is picked up by other houses. It is ideal for country house festivals looking for something different and enjoyable, but no mere froth. For it was fun with a serious purpose, punchily delivered with faultless skill.

And it would be nothing short of a tragedy if the Matthews and Boyd stellar opera debut proved to be also their swansong.

Boyd is fascinated by the power of music. One of my favourite novels of his, Love is Blind, is a historical yarn about Brodie Moncur, a Scottish piano tuner with Channon & Co, an Edinburgh firm of piano makers, who eventually peddled his skills across Europe and Asia. Music is the power that drives him on. I think Brodie should have a word in Will’s ear.

In the final scene, after we thought the opera faux and proper were both over, Vanessa is left alone to deliver an aria summing up her feelings.

Matthews and Boyd created one of those rare moments that makes the world stand still. Lotte Betts-Dean let rip her pent-up emotions. A climactic solo every bit as moving as Marietta’s iconic aria at the end of Erich Korngold’s opera, Die Tote Stadt.

Vanessa was gently led from the stage by Chekhov. Not a throat in the house could conceal a lump.

At the after-party I bumped into Mark-Anthony Turnage and congratulated him on his promotion from composer to dog handler. He was easy to spot, wearing his iconic hat. He generously claimed to have read the Reaction review of Festen – and to have liked it.

I waved at William Boyd across the stalls, renewing an acquaintance dating back to Glasgow University student days. At the party, reconnected with his wonderful wife, Susan, who I hadn’t seen for – ouch - 40 years!

As I turned north from rural Suffolk to the M1 and home in the Scottish Borders, I reflected, this time Aldeburgh had truly been a visit to friends.