His fondness for symbolism hinders rather than helps a work not noted for narrative clarity. The set is a bombed-out palazzo, with Latin slogans about self-sacrifice on the walls. A horrid, Otto Runge-style painting of two inscrutably knowing children stares down, while the stake at which Azucena's mother was burned is visible throughout. Di Luna's and Manrico's soldiers are repeatedly herded on opposite sides of the stage, while Leonora and Azucena, the victims of this masculine society, are passed or flung from one male group to another. Awkwardly, however, Lloyd Davies equates Di Luna with the fascists and Manrico with republicans, imposing moral bias on a work that depicts conflict as a senseless mess in which neither side has ethical superiority.
Musically, things are more consistent. Brad Cohen's conducting is all fire and steel, and apart from Katarina Jovanovic's squally, approximate Leonora, the opera is well sung. Rafael Rojas's macho, thrilling Manrico is pitted against Stephen Gadd's super-subtle Di Luna. Anne Mason gives a tremendous performance as Azucena, rising to genuinely tragic heights. She's well worth hearing, whatever you think of the inequalities elsewhere.
· Until June 20. Box office: 0845 230 9769.
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