Un ballo in maschera, Opera Holland Park
A stylish, emotionally charged Masked Ball where the music ultimately wins
8/1/2026
★★★★☆
Verdi’s Un ballo in maschera has one of opera’s more tangled histories. It was inspired by the real assassination of King Gustav III of Sweden, who was shot at a masked ball in Stockholm in 1792 and died shortly afterwards. When Verdi tried to turn the story into an opera, censors objected to the murder of a monarch on stage. The setting was therefore shifted away from Sweden, eventually becoming colonial Boston. Opera Holland Park restores the Swedish names, but Rodula Gaitanou’s production goes in another direction visually, placing the drama in a polished 1940s world inspired by old Hollywood melodrama.
That choice is both attractive and slightly odd. Takis’ dark wood interiors, elegant tailoring and glamorous evening wear create a stylish, coherent visual world, but there is little sense of Sweden and occasionally the concept softens the opera’s darker edges. Madame Arvidson becomes more of a society medium than an unsettling outsider, while Amelia’s night-time visit to a place of execution is moved to what resembles an institutional or hospital setting. These ideas are readable, but they do not always deepen the story.
The production becomes much stronger when it stops explaining itself and lets Verdi take over. The final act in particular is excellent theatre. The masked ball explodes into colour, with costumes ranging from historical fantasy to outright theatrical extravagance. The confusion is purposeful, making it entirely believable that a murder could take place in full view of everyone. It provides the evening’s biggest visual ‘wow’ moment without overwhelming the music.
Musically, the performance is on considerably firmer ground. Michael Papadopoulos draws a rich, flexible performance from the City of London Sinfonia. Even in reduced orchestration, Verdi’s contrasts come through vividly, from the brightness of the court scenes to the strange atmosphere surrounding Arvidson and the increasingly tense final act. Occasionally the singers are given a little too much freedom, but the overall dramatic flow is strong.
Elin Pritchard is the emotional centre of the evening as Amelia. Her singing combines strength with a beautifully controlled line, and she makes the character far more than a suffering romantic heroine. The great Act Three aria, ‘Morrò, ma prima in grazia’, becomes one of those rare moments when the entire production seems to become still around a single voice. Having Amelia hold her child while pleading for one final embrace could have felt manipulative, but Pritchard’s restraint makes it deeply moving.
Matteo Desole gives an admirable performance as Gustavo. He presents Gustavo as charming but careless, a man whose confidence in his own appeal prevents him from recognising the damage he is causing.
Dario Solari’s Anckarström is almost equally impressive. He makes the husband’s transformation from loyal friend to would-be murderer convincing rather than abrupt, and his ‘Eri tu’ carries both anger and genuine hurt. Rhian Lois provides welcome energy and lightness as Oscar, singing with agility and personality, while Rosalind Plowright gives Madame Arvidson enormous presence, turning every entrance into an event.
Not every detail lands. The opening fencing sequence is busier than it needs to be, some of the 1940s references feel decorative rather than dramatically essential, and the production never fully solves the opera’s implausible love triangle. Yet its storytelling is clear, its visual identity strong and its musical standards consistently high.
The magic comes when direction, singing and score finally lock together, especially in Amelia’s Act Three plea and the dazzling final ball. This is not a radical reinvention, but it is a confident, intelligent and often gripping revival.
Image credit: Craig Fuller, @craigfullerphotography
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