An Ordinary Bloke

In 1969, when they were named heirs designate to the artistic direction of London's Royal Opera at Covent Garden, Conductor Colin Davis and Director Peter Hall announced that they planned "to turn the opera house upside down." By this fall, when their appointments were to take effect, what had been turned upside down was their plans. Hall had pulled out of the partnership on short notice, having decided that the opera would take too much time from his film and stage commitments. Davis was left to carry on alone, with no intention of finding another partner. "When you have been to the altar and the bridegroom doesn't turn up," he said grimly, "you don't run into marriage again in a hurry."

Now. in his first new production since taking over, Davis has presented Mozart's The Marriage of Figaro and shown that he can do very well at the altar by himself. The production --attractively staged, dramatically paced--has delighted everybody: audiences, critics and--through Davis' simultaneously released Philips recording--listeners on both sides of the Atlantic. Davis suits tempo to text and voice to orchestral volume in a way that captivatingly illuminates the twin ingredients that make Mozart's music the miracle that it is --the hushed fury at its core, the tripping joy at its surface.

Back to Rep. The new Figaro is doubly significant as a sign of things to come at Covent Garden. Davis hopes to return the house somewhat to its original conception of a resident repertory company by drawing on a "really good" new generation of British-trained singers. Figaro, for example, boasts several comparative youngsters who had never sung important roles at Covent Garden before the Davis regime (among them Tenor Robert Tear and pearly voiced Soprano Kiri Te Kanawa, who scored a sensation as the Countess). Says Davis: "If I find a dozen first-class singers, we shall have what we want. Then we can stimulate ourselves and our audiences by importing guests. But I don't want international singers coming in here and fighting with their big voices for big fees."

With Figaro, Davis also seems to be declaring a middle-ground approach to repertory between battered war-horses and uncompromising avant-garde works. He intends to balance what he considers the true classic tradition--operas like Otello, Boris Godunov and the Ring--with occasional forays into the new and experimental. Next July, he will offer Taverner, a harshly dissonant new opera about a 16th century composer. Written by one of England's leading young composers, Peter Maxwell Davies, the work will be produced by Film Director Ken Russell (The Devils, The Boy Friend).

Eventually Davis would like to see an experimental opera center right next door to the opera house, on the present site of the fruit, vegetable and flower market at Covent Garden. Says he: "With its decor and sense of tradition, the opera house creates the wrong sort of atmosphere for experimentation."

Anti-Snob. Davis is doing his part to break down tiara snobbishness. On the opening night of this season, he coolly appeared in a stage box wearing a sweater. He already has an avid youthful following as a result of his appearances at London's summertime prom concerts, and he hopes to attract the same following to Covent Garden. "I'd like an audience that has less interest in the past and more interest in the present and is an average of 15 years younger."

In the long run, Davis knows that his plans hinge on musical successes--like Figaro--rather than his charisma. "I'm not the maestro type, throwing scores at people or eating the telephone," he says. "I'm a perfectly ordinary bloke who happens to be musical director of the Royal Opera. Of course, I have to play the role of the chap who is never flustered, always self-confident. But when I wake up in the night I find there are pieces of my fingers all over the pillow."

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