Diva not so divine

The Barbican last night was neither of those things. No one looked more disengaged than the Romanian soprano herself.

The first problem was the skimpy, mostly Italian programme. If anyone had "planned" it, their methods were unfathomable. She sang nine arias, totalling just 33 minutes of music plus encores, scandalously short by any measure.

Some tepid Giordani and Handel represented the bulk of the first half, with an obliging LSO filling the yawning gaps. Her Habanera from Carmen had all the erotic warmth of a winter night out in Moldova.

Only in four Puccini arias were there signs of life. The conductor, Ion Marin, scarcely helped, though his shoes were the shiniest ever seen and he fenced elegantly with his baton, only occasionally using it for its intended purpose.

Ms Gheorghiu obliged us with all the diva tricks we now expect, laid out with the formulaic flourish of a brush salesman: three changes of skin-tight frock, exposed flesh, jewels, a few kittenish "who, me?" smiles and waves when a brave fan cheered.

As Dorothy Parker might not have said: "Life is a glorious cycle of song, A medley of extemporanea; And Ms Gheorghiu's a thing that can never go wrong, And I am the Queen of Romania."

Angela Gheorghiu
Barbican Hall, Barbican Centre
Silk Street, EC2Y 8DS