What I did on my holidays...please excuse the lack of accents.

Suitor             Janos Gurban
Lady of the house  Annamaria Kovacs
Neighbour          Jolan Santa
Young woman        Erika Markovics
Young man          Istvan Kovacshazi
Rich young man     Sandor Egri

Kodaly's shortish opera is heavily folkloric verismo, with a happy ending.
The action all takes place in the spinning room of the title, which I think
belongs to the lady of the house. She has a suitor who is wanted by the
police. They say sad farewells as he flees, then the neighbour, the other
spinning women and their men try to cheer the lady up with singing and
dancing. This includes the betrothal of a young couple, as well as some
carnival or Halloween games with masks. A rich young man comes along, and
tries to stitch up the suitor when the police bring him back in chains. He
is recognised  himself, and both men are taken away. The suitor returns at
dawn, freed, and is reunited with the lady of the house.

The whole point of the work seems to be the lady's fears for her lover,
highlighted against the jollity of the rest of the community. Though the
jollity takes up so much of the time that there isn't much dramatic shape
at all, just a lower-key frame. This production, by the Hungarian State
Opera in the Opera House in Budapest, did the singing and dancing in style,
and also managed to give the lovers some substance. I believe this was the
second cast, but Janos Gurban was fine as the suitor, and Annamaria Kovacs,
though she doesn't have a particularly good voice, was very moving as the
lady.

The production values were pretty good (a large chorus and well rehearsed
dancers, and a real Alsatian dog for the police). Bartok's The wooden
prince, the ballet that formed the first part of the programme, was also
well done. The Opera House is very elegant, fake baroque, with tiers of
boxes and a balcony. I was right at the top of the balcony and could see
and hear perfectly, though the seats at the side must have restricted
views. And there was a proper foyer for the balcony, much classier than at
Covent Garden or the Coliseum.

In contrast, the Erkel theatre and the performances I saw there were a
triumph of awfulness. The theatre is similar in layout to the Festival Hall
in London, that is, like an aircraft hangar. Its decor seems to be made up
of the sort of ill-assorted bits you might find lying around an over-priced
German furniture store at the end of a sale -- white ridged ceiling, very
fake baroque trim round the proscenium, naff medalions of composers in the
foyer with Verdi and Mussorghsky nose to nose in the middle. There are
speakers over the stage, which seemed to be working all the time.

By a mixture of bad luck and bad planning, I went to two weekend matinee
performances. The first was Nabucco, and Verdi just about won, though
nobody was really trying to beat him. The production might have been one
once -- there was nothing silly or tasteless, and the costumes and gestures
were conventional but appropriate, with tassells in the right places. But
it was all done on the cheap. For instance, the destruction of the temple
consisted of the Babylonians pulling down three curtains, which produced
clouds of dust as they hit the floor.

I can't imagine any worse time to perform Nabucco than Saturday lunchtime,
especially to an audience with a large proportion of school children, but
the performers took it seriously enough and there were, amazingly, a couple
of impressive performances. Kolos Kovats, although he doesn't have a great
voice, was completely there as Zaccaria, and delivered the words and music
with impeccably clarity and conviction. Mihaly Kalmandi was also impressive
as Nabucco, though he was noticably younger than both his daughters.

I never thought I'd wish I'd missed a performance of The magic flute, but
this one was close. The audience this time consisted almost entirely of
under-10s with a sprinkling of parents and teachers, and the kiddies loved
Papageno. But the production actually looked mouldy. The sets were
seventies Indian-style, something like The thief of Bagdad reduced to
interior decoration and done all in brown. And the orchestra started out
incoherent and got through mainly by thumping along in the fast bits. The
queen of the night had no bottom or middle range and top notes like Kathryn
Grayson.

My guide book (Time Out, written and produced in London) comments that what
public funding there is for the performing arts in Budapest is being pumped
into keeping these two opera houses going, at the expense of theatre and
other music. I don't know how accurate this is, and I like the idea of a
city where you have a choice of operas most nights of the week. But on the
evidence of what I saw -- and I may have hit a particularly pedestrian
weekend -- the choice is between mainstream works adequately done and
underfunded dutiful awfulness.

And now I've  got tourist-issue paprika up my nose.