Acis and Galatea at theAuckland Town Hall

By WILLIAM DART

There came a point, very early on, in NBR New Zealand Opera's production of Acis and Galatea when one was struck by the terrible inevitability of the Da Capo aria.

Especially so when singers who had not been particularly gripping the first time around seemed unwilling or unable to deliver the vivid ornamentation required in the repeat.

All in all, Acis and Galatea was a flat affair.

Don't blame Handel, who lavished one of his most graceful, affecting scores on the Greek legend.

Nor could the Chapman Tripp Opera Chorus be faulted, generally keeping spirits and voices up, coping with the dismal costuming and registering concern or joy where required.

Instrumentally, the New Zealand Baroque Players, conducted by John Rosser, acquitted themselves creditably too.

Which brings us to the soloists. Only Stephen Bennett's Polyphemus had the requisite charisma, with black cape, dinky horns and the sort of sex appeal that could have secured him any nymph or shepherd in Arcadia. Perhaps our senses had been inordinately dulled by the first half, but his striding malevolence in Act Two was just what the dramaturge ordered.

Making his entrance with the recitative "I rage", Bennett did just that, and we heard every word. He relished the text - when "whining love" was mocked, we heard the scorn - and there was also the pleasure of recognising "Oh ruddier than the cherry" in its original dramatic context.

Rhona Fraser's Galatea, though sweetly sung, was overly gracious for my taste, while John Murray's Acis was woefully inadequate.

Paul Chappory as Damon sang the notes allotted to him; no more, no less.

Carla Parry and Elaine Wogan did considerably more as Corydon and Amaryllis. Wogan's "Consider, fond shepherd" was a model of shapely vocalising.

Jennifer Ward-Lealand's directorial hand seemed lightish, but with a week's work and minimal budget, possibilities were always limited.

Acis' final watery "appearance" as a winding blue banner was a theatrical coup, true to the Masque tradition, although the lovers' hand-clutching during the opening chorus of Act Two proved more distracting than desperate and disconsolate.