Opera Today

San Francisco Opera: Puccini's Il Trittico and Verdi's Il Trovatore

Then there’s the length. Two years ago the Metropolitan Opera had a huge success with a new production in its first year of Live in HD telecasts to movie theaters. Last season Los Angeles Opera also got headlines for hiring Woody Allen to direct Gianni Schicchi, with another film director, William Friedkin, taking on the Suor Angelica and Il Tabarro.

Patricia Racette (Sister Angelica) in Suor Angelica
San Francisco Opera, for the second production of its 2009-10 season, pulled together an admirable cast, while borrowing a New York City Opera production of intriguing, if stark, sets, designed by Allen Moyer. Perhaps the rusted metallic plates that served as wharf and barge for Il Tabarro were more utilitarian than evocative, and setting Suor Angelica in a sanatorium clinic of aquamarine tiles gave that emotionally rich piece a clinical feel. Still, the power of Puccini’s music and the efforts of a talented cast should make for a memorable evening.

Both the Tabarro and Suor Angelica felt flat, as seen on Friday, September 18th. The fault lay with the tepid conducting of Patrick Summers. Plum assignments go to this conductor, and his program essay revealed a keen intelligence aware of the qualities that make the music of Il Trittico so special. But the actual performance he produced with the estimable San Francisco Opera orchestra disappointed. Rhythms were flaccid, transitions awkward. The exquisite opening of Il Tabarro conveyed no sense of either water in motion or the tragedy to come. Suor Angelica had no pathos, and left the audience dry-eyed, despite the fine work of Patricia Racette. By comparison, a year ago James Conlon in Los Angeles and Sondra Radvanovsky in the lead role had their audience choking back sobs. The Schicchi went better, mostly because James Robinson’s direction, sharp and incisive all night, produced so much laughter that it rode over any flaws in the conducting.

David Lomelí (Rinuccio) and Patricia Racette (Lauretta) in Gianni Schicchi
Racette took on all three lead soprano roles, and with Robinson’s help, each was a clearly defined characterization. Her Giorgetta played up the frustrated sexuality of the character, linking her to the Pagliacci Nedda. At times Racette seemed to be holding some power in reserve for the rest of the long evening, but then again Summers let the orchestra swamp other singers at times as well. Racette’s Angelica was a subtle, restrained performance, and in this production, the ending leant toward tragedy rather than miraculous redemption. The highlight of the entire evening was the confrontation between Angelica and the Princess of Ewa Podleś. Podleś’s voice now has two quite separate registers, but the awkward gear shifts between the two only served to make her character more imposing and ominous. Racette returned for the Schicchi Lauretta, where she played up the lovestruck, not to say dumbstruck, teenage sex kitten. Her “O mio babbino caro” worked its manipulative magic even with Paolo Gavanelli’s stubborn papa on the other side of a door.

Gavanelli also had moments of greatness as Michele in Tabarro, although the macho good looks of Brandon Jovanovich’s Luigi made Michele seem obtuse for not guessing that his wife had taken up with the hunky cargo handler. Jovanovich sang with thrust and yet sensitivity - a real tenor to watch. David Lomeli did some nice work later in the evening as Rinuccio in Schicchi. If Lomeli can strengthen his lower range, he too will be on his way to a fine career. Andrea Silvestrelli in both Tabarro and Schicchi grabbed the spotlight with his relaxed but convincing acting and most of all, a huge, dark bass sound. Under many an other conductor, the whole evening would have been a considerable success.

Meredith Arwady (Zita), Catherine Cook (La Ciesca), Paolo Gavanelli (Gianni Schicchi), and Rebekah Camm (Nella) in Gianni Schicchi

The next night saw the fourth of SFO’s telecasts from the War Memorial to the ATT ballpark, home of the Giants. Verdi’s Il Trovatore filled the bill on Saturday the 19th. Your reviewer was one of an estimated 25,000 who kept the concession stand management happy with visits for overpriced treats of doubtful nutritional value. The ballpark turned out to be a surprisingly wonderful way to enjoy an opera on a cool but bearable San Francisco evening. The crowd was mostly quiet, although in the last act the slamming of concession stand windows could be heard, and most unfortunately, during Leonora’s first aria a small girl escaped her guardian and ran around the roped-off infield for a couple of minutes, to the raucous laughter of the crowd.

Dmitri Hvorostovsky (Count di Luna) and Sondra Radvanovsky (Leonora)
But Trovatore and this cast made for an exciting ball park entertainment. The audio boomed out, sometimes echoing off the stadium heights, but the occasional moments of distortion did not eclipse the pleasures of this visceral performance under the commanding leadership of new SFO Music Director Nicola Luisotti. Stephanie Blythe staked her claim to be the Azucena of her generation - fearless in her attack, emotionally open, and most importantly, strict in never letting the characterization sink into comical extremes. Dmitri Hvorostovsky has received criticism for pushing his lovely baritone in a heavier Verdi role such as Di Luna, and he did bark out some lines, but his gorgeous tone and seamless legato dominated his performance, pushing aside any grumbles.

Marco Berti (Manrico) and Stephanie Blythe (Azucena) [Photo by Terrence McCarthy courtesy of San Francisco Opera]
Sondra Radvanovsky took the honors that evening, with her amazing breath control, agility, and the unique quality to her voice - smoky and yet utterly feminine. Arguably, the slower tempo of “D’amor sull’ali rosee” showed off more of Radvanovsky’s incredible technique than it did Leonora’s desperation, but Luisotti and Radvanovsky set up the challenge and she met it beautifully, earning a tumultuous response. For Marco Berti in the title role, it might be a back-handed compliment, but he does seem to be about the best the opera world can do right now in this role. The tone lacks color, and he brings no particular style to his efforts. But the voice is huge and undaunted by the role’s challenges. Other tenors can do more with “Ah si ben mio,” but for the rest of the role, Berti came through.

Burak Bilgili (Ferrando) and chorus

As seen on the ATT ballpark giant screen, David McVicar’s production caught the hothouse atmosphere of the narrative well, and the revolving set facilitated much appreciated quick scene changes. Why the final scene found Manrico and Azucena imprisoned in a hole in giant rock confused your reviewer, but the darkness of the screen and the chilly lateness of the hour might be at fault there.

David Gockley, General Director of San Francisco Opera, has done very well in selecting Nicola Luisotti as Music Director. If only Luisotti had been at the helm of the Il Trittico performances as well as the Trovatore ones…

Chris Mullins

image=http://www.operatoday.com/TabJovRac.gif imagedescription=Brandon Jovanovich (Luigi) and Patricia Racette (Giorgetta) in Il Tabarro [Photo by Cory Weaver courtesy of San Francisco Opera]

product=yes producttitle=Giacomo Puccini: Il Trittico
Giuseppe Verdi: Il Trovatore productby=Click here for cast list of Il Trittico

Click here for cast list of Il Trovatore product_id=Above: Brandon Jovanovich (Luigi) and Patricia Racette (Giorgetta) in Il Tabarro

All photos by Cory Weaver courtesy of San Francisco Opera except as otherwise indicated

Opera Vivente stages Rossini's 'Cinderella'

By Tim Smith [Baltimore Sun, 29 September 2009]

Just as Shirley Temple was good medicine for the Great Depression, comic operas by Rossini seem ideal diversions for the Great Recession. A couple of weeks ago, Washington National Opera revived the composer’s most famous work, “The Barber of Seville.” And, over the weekend, Opera Vivente jumped into its 12th season with another sparkler, ” Cinderella.”

James Levine to Undergo Back Surgery, Cancels Performances

By Daniel J. Wakin [NY Times, 29 September 2009]

The conductor James Levine will undergo surgery for a herniated disc in the next few days, forcing him to cancel his performance with the Boston Symphony Orchestra on Thursday night at Carnegie Hall’s season-opening gala.

VERDI: Otello — Vienna 2006

First Performance: 5 February 1887, Teatro alla Scala, Milan.

Principal Roles:
Otello, a Moor, general of the Venetian army	Tenor
Iago, an ensign	Baritone
Cassio, a platoon leader	Tenor
Roderigo, a Venetian gentleman	Tenor
Lodovico, an ambassador of the Venetian Republic	Bass
Montano, Otello’s predecessor as Governor of Cyprus	Bass
A Herald	Bass
Desdemona, Otello’s wife	Soprano
Emilia, Iago’s wife	Mezzo-Soprano

Setting: A maritime city on the island of Cyprus, at the end of the 15^th century

Synopsis:

Act I

Cyprus, near the harbor; an inn nearby, the castle in the background

It is night and a storm is raging. The people of the island are looking out to sea, anxious for Otello’s ship. It arrives safely and he greets the crowd with a shout of triumph: the storm which has spared him has completed the destruction of the Turkish fleet begun by him. Frustrated in his love of Desdemona, Roderigo is ready to drown himself, but Iago counsels him to be sensible. He hates Otello for having appointed Cassio captain over his head and will help Roderigo and have his own revenge at the same time.

As the islanders celebrate, Iago invites Cassio to drink the health of Otello and Desdemona, knowing that he has no head for liquor. Prompted by Iago, Roderigo begins a quarrel with the intoxicated Cassio, and when Montano tries to stop them, Cassio attacks him. Iago urges Roderigo to rouse the town.

Otello interrupts the fight and, discovering that Montano is wounded and angry because Desdemona’s sleep has been disturbed, demotes Cassio. He orders Iago to calm the population. Otello and Desdemona, left alone, remember the days of their courtship.

Act II

A hall in the castle with a garden in the background

Iago suggests to Cassio that he try to regain favor by asking Desdemona to intercede for him and exults in his inborn capacity for evil. He watches as Cassio approaches Desdemona and, noting the arrival of Otello, pretends to be worried about Cassio’s manner, going on to suggest the possibility of a relationship between him and Desdemona. He then warns Otello to beware of jealousy and advises him to observe his wife. After groups of Cypriots have sung a welcome to Desdemona she begins to plead for Cassio, but Otello puts her off, complaining of a headache. When she tries to bind his forehead with a handkerchief, he throws it to the ground, where it is picked up by Emilia.

Desdemona begs her husband to forgive her if she has unconsciously offended him and he broods that she may have ceased to love him because of his color and age. Iago snatches the handkerchief from Emilia, intending to leave it in Cassio’s lodging.

Otello orders Desdemona to leave and Iago continues to undermine Otello’s faith in her. Lamenting that his peace of mind has gone, Otello demands proof of her infidelity, so Iago claims to have overheard Cassio in his sleep betraying his love for her. He also says that he has seen the handkerchief, Otello’s first love-token to Desdemona, in Cassio’s hand. Otello vows vengeance and Iago vows to dedicate himself to this cause.

Act III

The great hall of the castle

A herald announces the arrival of a galley from Venice. Iago promises to induce Cassio to betray his love for Desdemona in Otello’s hearing.

When Desdemona again tries to speak of Cassio, Otello asks her to bind his forehead with the handkerchief. Becoming agitated when she is unable to produce it, he warns her that its loss will bring misfortune and accuses her of infidelity, driving her away, unmoved by her tears and protestations of innocence.

His grief at this affliction which has been sent to try him turns to rage as Iago gets him to hide while he talks to Cassio — a cunningly contrived conversation partly about Desdemona and partly about the courtesan Bianca, who is madly in love with Cassio. Otello, unable to hear everything, misinterprets Cassio’s amusement, particularly when Cassio produces the handkerchief, expressing puzzlement as to how it appeared in his lodging, and he and Iago laugh.

As trumpets proclaim the arrival of the Venetian ship, Otello resolves to kill Desdemona and Iago promises to take care of Cassio. Everyone gathers to welcome the ambassador. As Otello reads the despatches brought by Lodovico, he hears Desdemona express sympathy for Cassio and strikes her. He announces that he has been recalled to Venice and Cassio appointed in his place. Lodovico tries to make peace between him and Desdemona, but he throws her to the ground. Furious at Cassio’s promotion, Iago incites Roderigo to murder him, as a means of keeping Otello and Desdemona in Cyprus.

Otello orders everyone to leave, cursing Desdemona when she tries to approach him. As he falls to the ground in a fit, Iago gloatingly places his foot on him.

Act IV

Desdemona’s bedroom

As Desdemona prepares for bed, assisted by Emilia, her heart is full of foreboding and she remembers a girl called Barbara, who died of unrequited love, singing “a song of willow.” Bidding Emilia good night, she prays, then goes to bed.

Otello enters, wakes her with a kiss and tells her to pray for forgiveness for any unabsolved sins. She begs for her life, denying his accusations of infidelity with Cassio. He strangles her. Emila brings the news that Cassio has killed Roderigo, but is unharmed. Hearing Desdemona’s dying protestations of innocence, Emilia calls for help. She reveals the truth about the handkerchief and Montano says that Roderigo had revealed what he knew of the plot before dying. Iago flees, refusing to exculpate himself.

Lodovico takes Otello’s sword, but Otello draws a knife and kills himself, kissing Desdemona as he dies.

[Synopsis Source: Opera~Opera]

Click here for the complete libretto.

Click here for the complete text of The Tragedie of Othello, Moore of Venice and related materials.

image=http://www.operatoday.com/Othello_Desdemona.gif image_description=Othello and Desdemona in Venice, by Theodore Chasseriau (1819-1856) audio=yes first_audio_name=Giuseppe Verdi: Otello first_audio_link=http://www.operatoday.com/Otello2.m3u product=yes product_title=Giuseppe Verdi: Otello product_by=Otello: Johan Botha; Jago: Falk Struckmann; Cassio: Marian Talaba; Roderigo: Cosmin Ifrim; Lodovico: Ain Anger; Montano: Vladimir Moroz; Desdemona: Krassimira Stoyanova; Emilia: Nadia Krasteva. Wiener Staatsoper. Daniele Gatti, conducting. Live performance, 25 October 2006, Wiener Staatsoper

'Siegfried' at Los Angeles Opera

Mark Swed [LA Times, 27 September 2009]

When indefatigable Los Angeles Opera music director James Conlon began his engrossing pre-performance talk before “Siegfried” on Saturday, a blazing midday sun was directly overhead at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion. By the time he finished conducting the long opera, day was done. The sky had reddened but not brilliantly enough to compete with the glow lingering from director Achim Freyer’s carnival of light inside or from Wagner’s music.

Incomparable Schubert — Goerne at the Wigmore Hall Part 2

Goerne’s unwavering legato, at once intimate and yet redolent of grandeur, is, frankly, matchless - no other singer, recorded or currently active, can sustain the long, flowing lines of songs such as ‘Nacht und Träume’ and ‘Im Abendrot’ with his ease, intensity and phenomenal breath control: this recital displayed that unique ability to tremendous effect. He began with the former song - daring as an introduction, but a wonderful way to establish the atmosphere of this sombre, deeply philosophical evening. Of course he respects the marking of langsam as few other singers can, yet he still sustains the inner rhythm of the lines: it was a pity that Alexander Schmalcz’ playing was a little on the heavy side.

I must have heard ‘Im Abendrot’ at least a hundred times in recital, but never like this - sehr langsam is the instruction, and Goerne intones the spacious, expansive melody with such quiet fervour that you find yourself holding your breath: the silence in the hall after ‘In mein stilles fenster sinkt’ was like the lull before a huge storm, far away yet imminently expected. Superb.

Graham Johnson wrote of ‘Die Sterne’ (Schlegel) that the singer with the breath control needed to execute its phrases ‘seems synonymous with someone who has ‘seen the light’ and this most unusual of Schubert’s ‘star’ songs indeed presents lofty challenges, to each of which Goerne rises with great skill, his shimmering high notes displayed to as much advantage as his warm, bass-baritone depths.

‘Der liebliche Stern’ has been described as a ‘humdrum’ song, but not here - Goerne’s tender, earnest phrasing and Schmalcz’ wistful playing of the ostinato accompaniment made for an intense experience, ‘Es zittert von Frühlingswinden’ living up to Gerald Moore’s requirement for the singer to ‘love each phrase’ and to sing with ‘the smoothest calmest line.’

‘Totengräbers Heimweh’ is the song of which it was once said that Goerne’s interpretation of it was ‘incomparable - his singing comes from inside’ and this was amply illustrated by this evening’s performance of it. From the fervid questioning of the start - ‘Wohin? o wohin?’ through the anguished depths of ‘Ich stehe allein! - so ganz allein!’ to the spellbinding mezza-voce of ‘O Heimat des Friedens, Der Seligen Land!’ in which the long phrases were given in one seemingly effortless arch of sound, this truly was singing with which it is very difficult to find anything to compare. The single encore, ‘An den Mond’ (‘Fullest wieder Busch und Tal’) was a fitting conclusion to this evening of peerless singing.

Melanie Eskenazi

image=http://www.operatoday.com/Goerne-Borggreve038.gif image_description=Matthias Goerne [Photo by Marco Borggreve for harmonia mundi]

product=yes producttitle=Matthias Goerne at Wigmore Hall, Part 2 productby=Matthias Goerne (baritone), Alexander Schmalcz (piano) product_id=Nacht und Träume; Der blinde Knabe; Hoffnung; Die Sterne; Vor meiner Wiege; Totengräbers Weise; Greisengesang; Tiefes Leid; Totengräbers Heimweh; An den Mond; Die Mainacht; An Silvia; Ständchen; Der Schäfer und der Reiter; Die Sommernacht; Erntelied; Herbstlied; Jägers Abendlied; Der liebliche Stern; An die Geliebte

The Met's Twist on 'Tosca'? It's the Audience That Gets the Knife.

By Anne Midgette [Washington Post, 22 September 2009]

NEW YORK, Sept. 21 — If art is a secular religion, opera can be a particularly orthodox sect of it. Certain rituals have become codified with time. In “La Bohème,” Rodolfo always clutches Mimi the same way when she dies. In “The Barber of Seville,” the maid, Berta, always sneezes loudly after taking snuff. And in Act 2 of “Tosca,” Tosca always spots the knife with which she is going to kill Baron Scarpia at a particular chord in the music; and she always sets lighted candles around his dead body before she leaves the room. It’s in the score; it’s in the music; it must be so.

Goerne sings Schubert at the Wigmore Hall

Schubert’s settings of Mayrhofer filled the first part of the recital. Mayrhofer was an unstable personality who dramatically drowned himself. That happened years after these songs were written, but even his youth Mayrhofer had an unhealthy fascination with death, with water, stars and death, extreme even by the standards of early 19th century Romanticism. How much Schubert sensed Mayrhofer’s problems, we’ll never know as he broke off their friendship soon after the songs were written. But in these settings there’s a distinct sense of unnatural calm.

Steady, undulating rhythms evoke waves, whether on the Danube or in Venice. The effect is almost hypnotic, revealing Mayrhofer’s obsessional fixations. Water images occur frequently in Schubert’s music, but rarely as unnervingly as in these songs. “Die Erde ist gewaltig schön doch sicher ist sie nicht” (“Wie Ulfru fischt”, D 525) No wonder the poet envies the fish hidden in the depths, and the stars in the sky above.

The incessant rocking rhythms of the waters are matched by delicate triplets which evoke the twinkling of distant stars. “Lied eines Schiffers an die Dioskuren” (D 360) is relatively calm, for it describes a sailor already on his journey to death, guided and comforted by the stars.

In performance, sometimes the loveliness of these songs distracts from true meaning, but a singer like Goerne understands their inner portent. His voice is capable of great force and fire, but in these songs he tempered power with extreme restraint, true to the spirit of Mayrhofer who was desperately keeping his demons under control.

Goethe’s Wilhelm Meister poems lend themselves to much greater dramatic intensity .As he enters his forties, Goerne’s voice has grown with maturity. There’s no one singing now who can match the gravitas of his lower register, but what’s even more impressive is the fluidity with which he can phrase and color words within lines with precise nuance.

These songs allow moments of great power. “Wer nie sein Brot mit Tränen aß” (D 840) culminates in crescendi of anguish, which Goerne expresses with surges, not of volume alone, but of emotional depth. Eric Schneider has been playing with Goerne for about 15 years, but now he’s playing with more articulation and maturity. In the Mayrhofer settings his “star” and “water” passages were eerily acute. In the Harper songs, he made the piano sing like a harp, not a huge concert hall harp, but the smaller, more intimate harp a wandering minstrel like Wilhelm Meister would have played: it was uncannily vivid, very haunting.

“An Mignon” (D 161) refers to Mignon, whose frail innocence is tested by tragedy. In many ways, Goerne’s agility in lighter, higher passages is even more impressive, for dark timbred voices don’t easily lend themselves to such gentleness. Fast paced songs also test a deep baritone, so the frisky “Der Fischer” (D225) truly tested the agility of Goerne’s pacing. When he sings the words of the girl in the poem he doesn’t even try to mimic a female voice, instead making the transition by brightening and sharpening the tone.

Good technique makes such singing possible, but what makes Goerne’s musicianship so interesting is the emotional depths he can reach. “Ich denke dein” he sings in “Nähe des Geliebten” (D 62), warmed with heartfelt ardor. But the beloved isn’t actually near but far away. So the voice swells, open-throated, matching the expansive motifs in the piano part.

This was the first of two Schubert recitals taking place at the Wigmore Hall in London. The second will also appear here in Opera Today.

Anne Ozorio

image=http://www.operatoday.com/Goerne-Borggreve038.gif image_description=Matthias Goerne [Photo by Marco Borggreve for harmonia mundi]

product=yes producttitle=Matthias Goerne at Wigmore Hall productby=Matthias Goerne (baritone), Eric Schneider (piano)
Wigmore Hall, London, 18th September 2009 product_id=Das Heimweh, D456; Auf der Donau, D553; Wie Ulfru fischt D525; Die Sternennächte, D670; Rückweg D476; Geheimnis D491; Gondelfahrer D808; Abendstern D806; Der Sieg D805; Lied eines Schiffers an die Dioskuren D360; Nachtstück D672; Heiss mich nicht reden from ‘Gesänge aus Wilhelm Meister’, D877/2; Nur wer die Sehnsucht kennt from ‘Gesänge aus Wilhelm Meister’, D877/4; An Mignon, D161; Gesänge des Harfners I, D478; Gesänge des Harfners III, D480; Gesänge des Harfners II, D479; Am Flusse, D160; Nähe des Geliebten, D162; Der Fischer, D225; Auf dem See, D543; Wonne der Wehmut, D260; Willkommen und Abschied, D767

Die schöne Müllerin by Mark Padmore, Wigmore Hall

In the event, this was a controlled and precise rendition of Die schöne Müllerin, thoughtfully conceived and executed with commitment and integrity. The contrasts and juxtapositions of the text — as the wanderer fluctuates between hope and desperation — were conveyed by skilfully controlled oppositions of dynamic, tonality and tempo. Thus, a perfectly paced and well-structured whole was enriched by carefully considered gestures: for example, small hesitations — before Padmore’s exquisite pianissimo of ‘Das Wasser’ in ‘Das Wandern’ (‘Journeying’), or preceding the piano’s shift to the minor key half-way through ‘Wohin?’ (‘Where to?’), to name but two of many such subtleties — enhanced the fluctuations between excitement and longing, between optimism and despair. Similarly, the energy of Lewis’s introduction to ‘Halt’ (‘Halt!’) captured the young man’s eager exhilaration; while, the final, weighty, assertive chords of ‘Ungeld’ (‘Impatience’) and ‘Mein!’ (‘Mine!’) conveyed the surety, and misguidedness, of his conviction that “Dein ist mein Herz, und sol les ewig bleiben” (“My heart is yours, and shall be forever!”). Moreover, a sudden accelerando at the concluding line of ‘Die böse farbe’ (‘The hateful colour’) communicated the agony felt at departure, underlying the impassioned cry, “Zum Abschied deine Hand!” (“give me your hand in parting!)

Indeed, in many ways the performers seemed to have exchanged their conventional roles: from the rich assertive gestures of the opening bars of ‘Das Wandern’, it was evident that it was Lewis’s accompaniment that would propel the musical and dramatic continuity. The piano was both scene-setter and protagonist: rippling with the recurring arpeggiac echoes of the brook, Lewis’s accompaniment both depicted the scenes and source of the tragedy and embodied the inner turmoil of the wanderer’s mind as he struggles with the fickle ‘murmuring friend’ which lulls him to his Fate - a fusion of inner and outer, of man and the natural environment which is truly Romantic.

In contrast, Padmore seemed less implicated, more objective, a teller of a tale. Making frequent use of a fragile, haunting head voice, he may have kept his distance from the young lover’s turmoil, but that is not to imply that sang inexpressively. The tenor’s restraint in the final lines of ‘Pause’ — “Ist es der Nachklang meiner Liebespein/Sol les das Vorspiel neuer Lieder sein?” (“Is this the echo of my love’s torment/Or the prelude to new songs?”) — evoked the bitter-sweet nature of the young man’s love, and his growing self-knowledge. The octave rise on “Leibesnot”, (“Anguish’), in ‘Die liebe Farbe’ (‘The beloved colour’), the touching intensification and colouring of “mein Herz” in ‘Ungeduld’, the guileless tenderness of the timorous, pained questions “Wie welk, wie blaβ? … Wovon so naβ?” (“Why faded, why pale? … What makes you wet?”) in ‘Trockne Blumen’ (‘Withered Flowers’) similarly demonstrated an impressive and coherent attention to detail.

Yet, one could not help feeling that Padmore’s delivery was rather limited in tonal range, and thus in emotional variety. Over-use of a withdrawn, plaintive timbre, together with a marked absence of vibrato throughout, resulted in a weakening of dramatic impact, as familiarity weakened the meaning and effect. Padmore’s diction, however, was excellent, even in the ‘busier’ numbers, such as ‘Der Jäger’ (‘The Hunter’) where the pace and energetic accompaniment were no hindrance to clarity. But, both performers seemed more at ease in the quieter, tranquil songs, and here the ensemble was outstanding. Lewis’s understated repeating rhythmic patterns in the closing two songs created an air of inevitability as the distant call of the brook itself lured the wanderer, and the audience, to its depths.

This was a genuinely unified conception and performance. One may like one’s Schubert more fervent, more wrought or more turbulent, but Padmore and Lewis offered a reading of clarity and cohesion, shaping and sustaining the emotional and narrative journey, and creating moments of great sadness, serenity and beauty along the way.

Claire Seymour

image=http://www.operatoday.com/Padmore.gif image_description=Mark Padmore [Photo by Marco Borggreve] product=yes product_title=Franz Schubert: Die schöne Müllerin product_by=Mark Padmore tenor, Paul Lewis piano
Wigmore Hall, London. 12 September 2009 product_id=Above: Mark Padmore [Photo by Marco Borggreve]

Haydn’s Le pescatrici at Bampton Classical Opera

Whether it’s downpours and blackouts in the Oxfordshire countryside which force a retreat to a candlelit church, or indisposed singers who compel director Jeremy Gray himself to tread the boards (Benda’s Romeo and Juliet, 2007) or require a student drama student to read the text for a miming singer (Schubert’s The Conspirators, 2009), Bampton Classical Opera must sometimes feel that the Fates are against them. Critics have rightly noted that the company “deserves a prize for quirky, courageous planning” but one might also add that they excel in spontaneous and creative ‘damage limitation’! For this performance of Haydn’s seldom-performed dramma giocoso, Le Pescatrici, the late indisposition of the leading tenor, Andrew Friedhoff (Burlotto), necessitated some rapid re-imagining: in the event, Friedhoff was able to sing the recitative, his arias were excised, and Burlotto’s contributions to the ensembles were delivered by Philip Salmon from the front of the orchestral area. An unfussy solution, and one which scarcely disrupted the musical and dramatic rhythm and logic — indeed, if it had not been for the appearance of Salmon on the platform at the curtain, to receive his well-deserved applause, I suspect many in the audience would not have noticed anything unusual or amiss …

Haydn’s reputation may rest largely on his body of instrumental works, including the 104 symphonies and over 80 string quartets, but vocal music and vocal aesthetics were at the heart of his musical and personal identity throughout his career. His early vocal training was crucial to the formation of his style, as he became familiar with the vocally-based, sensual strands in German musical thought in the early 1750s, singing simple tunes to his father’s harp, training with the choir at St Stephen’s cathedral in Vienna, studying the ‘instrumental arias’ of C.P.E. Bach and the vocal compositions of the great Italian masters. It is therefore not surprising that everything Haydn wrote, even the most complex ideas, ‘sings’ so effortlessly and beautifully.

Despite, or perhaps because of, Haydn’s own concern that the relative isolation of the Esterháza palace would be detrimental to his compositional development, he was familiar with the most up-to-date trends and fashions in vocal music, well aware of the niceties of the Italian operatic tradition within which he worked. Moreover, in keeping with the contemporary aesthetic theory espoused by Rousseau and others, Le Pescatrici has relatively simple plot, with few incidents but many opportunities to explore the characters’ psychological depths and motivations. The context of the first performance — a celebration of the noble wedding of Prince Nicholas Esterházy’s niece, the Countess von Lamberg, and his Highness the Count of Poggi, staged in a new 400-seat opera house built by the extravagant Prince — led to small alternations being made to Goldoni’s play. Haydn’s opera, in which true nobility and aristocratic grace win through, and the fickle peasant classes are exposed as greedy and presumptuous, was a perfect parable for the occasion.

Two feckless fisher girls, Nerina and Lesbina, are each engaged to the other’s brother, Burlotto and Frisellino respectively. But, desirous of more wealthy and illustrious husbands, they are excited by the arrival of Prince Lindoro; he is seeking the rightful heir to the throne of Benevento, whose identity was concealed at birth during a violent coup. Each of the fortune-hunting girls immediately sets about convincing Lindoro that they are the true claimant, to the annoyance of their suitors. Mastricco, a worldly old fisherman, knows better, however; for it is the demure, gentle Eurilda, his supposed daughter, who is the rightful inheritor. Despite the enterprising efforts of the flighty fisher girls, true nobility shines through and justice is restored. But not before the spurned young men seize the opportunity to humiliate their capricious fiancées with a ‘Così-like’ trick: disguising themselves as the well-bred cousins of Lindoro, they woo their ladies (in this case, their own, to avoid any incestuous advances!) by promising them untold riches and luxury. When the ruse is exposed, it is Mastricco who must step in to restore order and harmony.

The imposing Baroque interior of St John’s Smith Square may lack some of the lavish opulence of the original venue, but this mattered not as the sets designed by Mike Wareham and Anthony Hall swept us far from twilight London to the idyllic Italian south, depositing us in the small fishing village of Taranto. An aquamarine gleam imbued all, illuminating a picture-perfect coastal backdrop; and what with the brightly painted fish-stalls and sun-bleached beach huts — with obligatory sea-gull perched aloft — one could almost forget the evening’s decidedly autumnal chill. This was a fresh, uncluttered set, but one which offered many an opportunity for Jeremy Gray’s typically deft visual witticisms — not least the changing theatre bills which reminded us of Le Pescatrici’s operatic ‘relations’, La Cenerentola and Così fan tutte.

A fire at the Esterháza opera house in 1779 resulted in the loss of almost one third of the score. Several significant scenes in Acts 1 and 2 are missing and when the opera was staged at Garsington in 1997, a prize of £2000 was offered for the “best restoration of missing parts”! Bampton adopted the more conventional approach of using the reconstruction made in 1965 by the esteemed Haydn scholar, H.C. Robbins Landon.

The replacement numbers for Act 1 and Act 2 are certainly in keeping with the lyrical, serenade-like idiom of Haydn’s original sections. However, the necessary excision of Burlotto’s mock-heroic first aria and the rather uniform mood, mode and timbre of the sequence of opening arias, resulted in a lack of variety at the start of Act 1; thus, while an atmosphere of delight and relaxation was created, characterisation was not firmly established in musical terms, although subsequent arias, particularly those for Lesbina and Nerina in Act 2, were more strikingly individual. What was apparent, from the opening bars of the overture, was that the London Mozart Players were on fine form, under the baton of Alice Farnham. In particular, the sweet, warm woodwind colours, à la divertimento, as in the tender introduction to the second scene, evoked the gentle, lazy heat of the Italian sunshine.

Throughout, the ensemble between the orchestra and singers was superb; two large television screens proved an effective means of overcoming one of the inherent problems of the venue, where the necessity of placing orchestral players behind the singers can hinder effective communication between conductor and cast. One might have wished for a little more energy and sprightlier tempi from Farnham in the ensembles, particularly in the Act 1 finale, with its gradual accumulation of musical and dramatic urgency, but overall the structure was well-judged. The continuo playing of Kelvin Lim was particularly noteworthy, skilfully creating dramatic momentum and continuity in the recitatives.

Supported by such an assured orchestral platform, it was the leading ladies who sparkled most brightly. Bampton regulars, Emily Rowley Jones (Lesbina) and Serena Kay (Nerina), pouted and pranced, flounced and flirted convincingly, both sopranos relishing the humour and sustaining the verve and energy. After some initial intonation problems, Rowley Jones settled into the role, negotiating both the pompous coloratura and deflating patter (thereby exposing the falsity of her claims and revealing her humdrum roots) in her Act 2 aria with confidence and assurance. Kay used her upper range particularly effectively.

In the role of Eurilda, Margaret Rapacioli certainly presented an effective contrast to the flightiness of the other fisher girls; the simplicity of Eurilda’s melodies reminds one of the classical grace and dignity of Gluck, but although she conveyed an appropriate dramatic serenity and sincerity, Rapacioli did not quite possess the sustained lyricism of line and depth of tone necessary to express the integrity and graciousness of Eurilde.

Mark Chaundy, as Frisellino, demonstrated a nimbleness of movement and lightness of voice, just right for this simple, undemanding young lover; while bass Robert Winslade Anderson was an appealing Mastricco. The expansive range required in his Act 1 aria posed some challenges, particularly at the top, but his consistently excellent diction more than compensated, to which he needed only a few economic visual and physical gestures to deftly convey both the wisdom and mischief of the wily old fisherman. Given the consistency of the soloists, it was a pity, therefore, that baritone Vojtech Safarik (Lindoro) seemed less assured. Under-powered vocally, rather stiff physically, and with little variety of tone, Safarik tended to shout when a forte was required; he was somewhat overshadowed in the ensembles, which had the unfortunate effect of diminishing the opera’s emphasis on the power and dignity of the ‘nobility’.

But, overall this was a well-matched cast. Caroline Kennedy and Rosa French, as decorative bellezze al bagno, enhanced the comic spirit. And, in the ensembles, particularly the Act 1 finale and the tranquil farewell to Lindoro and Eurilda, the voices blended into a radiant whole.

In his public statements about his oeuvre, Haydn consistently placed his vocal works ahead of his instrumental compositions. This performance, which conveyed the company ’s genuine belief in the opera’s merits and which perfectly straddled the line between irony and sincerity, certainly suggested that a reassessment of Haydn’s operatic achievement is long overdue.

Claire Seymour

image=http://www.operatoday.com/HaydnHardy.gif imagedescription=F. J. Haydn by Thomas Hardy, 1792

product=yes producttitle=F. J. Haydn: Le pescatrici productby=Lesbina, a fishergirl, sister of Burlotto and in love with Frisellino: Emily Rowley Jones; Nerina, a fishergirl, sister of Frisellino and in love with Burlotto: Serena Kay; Burlotto, a fisherman, in love with Nerina: Andrew Friedhoff; Frisellino, a fisherman, in love with Lesbina: Mark Chaundy; Eurilda, believed to be the daughter of Mastricco: Lina Markeby/Margaret Rapacioli; Mastricco, an elderly fisherman: Robert Winslade Anderson; Lindoro, Prince of Sorrento: Vojtěch Šafařík. Orchestra of Bampton Classical Opera (July, August); The London Mozart Players (September). Conductor: Alice Farnham. Director: Jeremy Gray. product_id=

Bampton Classical Opera

HAYDN: Le pescatrici

St John’s Smith Square, London

Thursday 17th September 2009

Cecilia Bartoli: Maria

A tribute to the brief but memorable career of Maria Malibran (1808-1836), that studio recording itself came in two editions, one a hardback copy with bonus selections for a total of 17 tracks. Many of those selections appear on the first of this DVD set’s two discs, a film of a Barcelona concert - the date of which your reviewer could not find anywhere on the packaging or booklet. Bartoli sings 11 numbers in the 80-minute concert, supported by the small ensemble Orchestra La Scintilla, a conductor-less group led by first violinist Ada Pesch. The second disc, a documentary titled Malibran Rediscovered, follows Bartoli as she rehearses for the studio recording and researches Malibran’s life. So as Bartoli celebrates the career of Malibran, Decca celebrates Bartoli’s marketability. Strangely, though your reviewer scanned the materials carefully, he could not find a place to buy the Bartoli/Maria commuter mug or T-shirts.

But enough about the commerciality of this venture. Artistically - it is a success. Some will always find the physicality of a Bartoli performance distracting. She blinks and grimaces, clenches her fists and leans back to gather her forces. If all that effort helps her to produce the fluid, athletic vocalism that she does, it can be abided. Admittedly, at times, her consideration of the value of each word of the text - whether adjective, pronoun, or indefinite article - threatens to eclipse the greater meaning of the entire piece. In the totality of Bartoli’s presentation, her variety of tone and sheer joy in the music carry her beyond such criticisms. And she loves this music, either written for Malibran or in a couple cases, by her. An exquisite, deeply felt version of Adina’s closing scene from La Sonnambula gives way to a raucous Rataplan. The sweetness of Balfe’s Yon Moon o’er the Mountains feels all too brief in Bartoli’s ecstatic performance, although her command of English - quite strong in the conversational segments of the documentary - slips a bit at times. Strangely, a highlight of the disc, Casta Diva, does not appear on the concert disc, although a few minutes are seen in the documentary as Bartoli rehearses.

At just under 70 minutes the documentary doesn’t actually require the second disc that Decca provides, unless for reasons of premium audio quality. The documentary itself, “A Film by Michael Sturminger,” serves as much as a portrait of Bartoli as it does Malibran, but as Bartoli is such an engaging, down-to-earth personality, that adds to the piece’s appeal. She visits Malibran’s grave, rehearses for the Barcelona concert, and with her mother watches home movies of herself singing (a little Violetta of Traviata, act one!). More endearing than illuminating, perhaps, but never dull.

So consider this DVD set more than a companion to the studio recording - the live performance feels more energized than the CD set’s versions, and the documentary does its star-worshipping tastefully. Recommended.

Chris Mullins

image=http://www.operatoday.com/BartoliMariaDVD.gif image_description=Maria: The Barcelona Concert & Malibran Rediscovered

product=yes producttitle=Maria: The Barcelona Concert & Malibran Rediscovered productby=Cecilia Bartoli (mezzo-soprano), Maxim Vengerov (Violin), La Scintilla Orchestra, Adam Fischer. conducting. productid=Decca 074 3252 5 [2DVDs] price=$26.99 producturl=http://astore.amazon.com/operatoday-20/detail/B0012R3DUO

Humour and horror — Ligeti's Le Grand Macabre at the ENO, London

The giant woman is a miracle of motors and pulleys, engineering transfigured as art. She’s obviously not alive, but she moves, following the action. She takes on whatever is projected onto her, changing with light from woman to man, aging, decaying, turning into a skull. She’s solid enough to support actors crawling over her yet seems to disappear into starlight or clouds when the lighting’s right. Her body opens to reveal secret caverns. She’s so wonderful, you’re mesmerized.

“A dress rehearsal for the end of the world” wrote Michel de Ghelderode whose original play inspired Ligeti’s “anti-opera”. Le Grand Macabre is an apocalyptic vision after Heironymous Bosch, Theatre of the Absurd at its most picaresque. Nothing is supposed to make sense, all logic overturned. So lovers Amando and Amanda (Frances Bourne and Rebecca Bottone, both women) wear their muscles outside their skin. Nekrotzar, note the nameplay, (Pavlo Hunka) is the all powerful figure of Death, who rides a plastic bubble horse while wielding a scythe.

Rebecca Bottone (Amanda) and Frances Bourne (Amando)

There’s lots of action, for this is Breughelland, teeming with busy figures. Venus (Susanna Andersson) slides down from the ceiling, and later appears as singing stormtrooper. Lots of deliberately unerotic sexual shennanigans - Astramodars (Frode Olsen) and his wife Mescalina (Susan Bickley), she of the conical size ZZ bra cups. The Black Minister (Simon Butteries) and The White Minister (Daniel Norman) exchange playground obscenities in alphabetical order. Piet the Pot ((Wolfgang Ablinger-Sperrhacke) is a down to earth drunk. Prince Go-Go (Andrew Watts, the countertenor) portrays a sad Elvis impersonator, his naivety no match for the evil plotters around him. There’s even a recreation of Michael Jackson’s *Thriller *dance routine to keep the chorus and actors on their toes.

It’s wildly madcap, lots of fun if taken on its own terms. Judging by the laughter most of this audience got the right mood. But the difficulty with Le Grand Macabre, is that it’s not easy to marry humour with horror. Some of Ligeti’s jokes are pretty asinine anyway, without the saving grace of shock, but there’s a lot more darkness and despair in his music than this production dwells on. On the other hand, human nature being what it is chooses levity over grim surreality .

In the Second Act, where Ligeti writes longer musical passages without narrative, Baldur Brönimann got reasonably idiomatic playing from the orchestra. Nonetheless this isn’t Ligeti at his most subtle, and most of the audience were there for the show not the music. Since this production had so much going for it that its sheer inventive energy was compensation for the relative lack of musical bite. Nothing to scare away Those Who Fear New Music. This production was so impressive that it will stick in the memory . For once, it will be good to listen to a recording (ideally Salonen) allowing La Fura del Bas’s incredible images come to life again in your imagination. You can hear the music again, but you’ll never see another production quite like this !

Andrew Watts (Prince Go-Go), Wolfgang Ablinger - Sperrhacke (Piet the Pot), Pavlo Hunka (Nekrotzar) and Frode Olsen (Astradamors)

Yet ultimately, Le Grand Macabre isn’t all that macabre. Death is overturned. Prince Go-Go is arrested because he isn’t dead. Piet, Astromodars and Mescalina, return to life and carry on as before. Nekrotzar is defeated and doesn’t come back. Instead he’s replaced by a shrunken puppet, inside the giant woman’s stomach. Then the giant’s features bloom again, colour returning to her cheeks, and she smiles. She’s remarkably realistic now, so it’s quite frightening seeing her eyeball to eyeball if you’re sitting upstairs. The giant woman’s face came from a film at the very beginning, where a sad, lonely woman seemed to be dying of a heart attack. She doesn’t die, but such a shambles of an existence is hardly life. It was uncomfortable seeing her “dead” body subject to indignities, but seeing the real actress who plays her in the film taking applause later wasn’t reassuring. Which is perhaps the point - we can’t assume everything’s back to normal, whatever normal “is”.

Ligeti’s Le Grand Macabre runs at the ENO until October 9th. www.eno.org

image=http://www.operatoday.com/GrandeMacabre001.gif image_description=Wolfgang Ablinger - Sperrhacke (Piet the Pot); Pavlo Hunka (Nekrotzar). English National Opera. ENO - September 2009. Photographer : Stephen Cummiskey.

product=yes producttitle=György Ligeti : Le Grand Macabre productby=Venus/Gepopo Susanna Andersson; Mescalina Susan Bickley; Prince Go-Go Andrew Watts; Piet the Pot Wolfgang Ablinger-Sperrhacke; Nekrotzar Pavlo Hunka; Astradamors Frode Olsen; White Minister Daniel Norman; Black Minister Simon Butteriss; Amanda Rebecca Bottone; Amando Frances Bourne. Conductor Baldur Brönnimann; Directors Alex Ollé and Valentina Carrasco; Set Designer Alfons Flores; Video Designer Franc Aleu; Costume Designer Lluc Castells; Lighting Designer Peter van Praet; Translator Geoffrey Skelton. English National Opera. The Coliseum, London 17th September 2009. product_id=Above: Wolfgang Ablinger - Sperrhacke (Piet the Pot); Pavlo Hunka (Nekrotzar). English National Opera. ENO - September 2009. [All photos by Stephen Cummiskey courtesy of English National Opera]

Anna Karenina: An Opera by David Carlson, Libretto by Colin Graham

Yet the protocols of the opera business dictate that under the title Anna Karenina on the jewel case cover, the first line states “An Opera by David Carlson,” followed by Graham’s credit. Tolstoy’s name only appears on the back cover. The singers’ names, truly unusually, do not appear on either cover, but only inside the booklet - on page 9!

This has the order of commendation quite backward. A young cast, headed by soprano Kelly Kaduce in the title role, works with energy and authority to try and bring the music drama to life. The grim essence of Tolstoy’s tragedy only makes itself felt intermittently, as librettist Graham works to capture more of the novels’ complexity than earlier adaptations had, while meeting the needs of the operatic stage.

All these admirable efforts, worthy or not, are sunk under the teeming waves of sound that composer David Carlson pours forth. The orchestra always seems to be more excited about the story than the characters. Moments of repose and reflection are too few as strings nervously scatter this way and that, brass barks, and the winds twitter nervously. Some moments might be identified as “aria-like,” if not actually arias, but Carlson has no gift for sustained melodic invention. As conductor, Stewart Robinson (leading the Saint Louis Symphony Orchestra), manages all the challenges Carlson’s music presents, but he can’t make it interesting to hear.

The large cast features some names that will become more familiar in the coming years, it is safe to assume. Kaduce works to make Karenina sympathetic, as the condensed nature of an opera libretto flattens much of Tolstoy’s characterization. Christian Van Horn as Anna’s unfortunate husband sings with muted nobility. Robert Gierlach as Vronsky does not have the vocal charisma to suggest the reason’s for Anna’s infatuation, but perhaps live on stage would be a different matter. In smaller roles, Brandon Jovanovich and Sarah Coburn establish attractive vocal identities.

Whether in Carlson’s impatient, hectic music or Graham’s too literal adaptation, the opera Anna Karenina makes the classic mistake of telling, not showing, as the characters and the score always seem to proclaim their feelings without actually conveying them. This would be, then, only for the most committed fans of any contemporary opera, or those already following some of these young singers’ promising careers.

Chris Mullins

[Editor’s Note: Please refer to Kelly Kaduce sings Anna Karenina for an interview of Kelly Kaduce regarding the role of Anna Kareninia.]

image=http://www.operatoday.com/AnnaKarenina.gif imagedescription=David Carlson: Anna Karenina

product=yes producttitle=David Carlson: Anna Karenina
Libretto by Colin Graham productby=Anna Karenina , wife of Alexei Karenin: Kelly Kaduce; Dolly (Princess Darya Oblonskaya), sister of Kitty Scherbatsky: Christine Abraham; Stiva (Prince Stepan Oblonsky), Anna’s brother and Dolly’s unfaithful husband: William Joyner; Levin (Konstantin Levin, called Kostya), in love with Kitty: Brandon Jovanovich; Betsy (Princess Betsy Tverskoy), a famed St. Petersburg hostess: Josepha Gayer; Vronsky (Count Alexei Vronsky), an officer in love with Anna: Robert Gierlach; Kitty (Princess Ekaterina Scherbatskaya), Dolly’s younger sister, infatuated with Vronsky: Sarah Coburn; Prince Yashvin , Vronsky’s friend: Nicholas Pallesen; Countess Lydia Ivanovna: Dorothy Byrne; Karenin (Alexei Karenin), Anna’s husband: Christian Van Horn; Aga FIa Mikhailovna , Levin’s old nurse: Rosalind Elias; Seriosha , Anna’s son: David Tate; Ann ushka , Anna’s maid: Kimberly Wibbenmeyer; A doctor: Mike Dowdy; Mikhail , Seriosha’s tutor: Brad Lewandowsky. Opera Theatre of St Louis. St Louis Symphony Orchestra. Conductor: Stewart Robertson. productid=Signum Classics SIGCD154 [2CDs] price=$41.98 producturl=http://astore.amazon.com/operatoday-20/detail/B001O3MLHW

Return to the Origins — Chamber Opera in Crisis Times

It is a return to the origins of Opera, because, at the end of the sixteenth and beginning of the seventeenth centuries, Opera started out as a private musical entertainment, to be performed in the large hall of a Palace for the enjoyment of a limited number of friends and guests. Thus, it was chamber opera in the most literal sense.

There are several determinants at the roots of the return. Firstly, chamber opera requires a light budget with few soloists, an instrumental ensemble and simple sets and costumes; also, the production is generally suitable for touring and the costs can be shared. Secondly, it attracts a new and younger audience, partly because it charges lower ticket prices that a regular opera performance. Thirdly, and perhaps more significantly, chamber opera fits crisis times. In his Minima Moralia, Theodor A. Adorno considers Stravinsky’s chamber opera A Soldier’s Tale as one of the best expressions of World War I: the chamber group battered by shocks whose dreamlike compulsiveness simultaneously expresses real and symbolic destruction. This explains also Benjamin Britten’s emphasis on chamber opera in the years immediately after World War II.

An interesting feature of the return of chamber opera is the tendency to be addressed to an international audience. This is a new dimension: even Britten’s chamber operas were thought of primarily for an Anglo-Saxon public (although one of his masterpieces was premièred at La Fenice Opera House in Venice). In the last few weeks, two “international” chamber operas have had their première in Italy with plans of extensive European tours: Le Malentendu by Matteo D’Amico and Kafka Fragmente by György Kurtág . Neither of the two operas is in Italian; the former is in French, the latter in German. Both have been entrusted to an international cast.

The two composers are very different in age – D’Amico is in early 50s, Kurtág (in his 80s) just received the “Golden Lion” for his career at the Venice 2009 Biennale of Contemporary Music. D’Amico and Kurtág belong to different schools; in D’Amico’s work the listener feels the flavour and the colour of Henze. and those of Boulez in Kurtág’s. Both operas can be performed in a regular theatre of comparatively small dimensions (an audience of 400-600) but they are much more effective in an unusual space. For Le Malentendu a small center stage arena was chosen; for Kafka Fragmente the half destroyed main hall of a Convent bombed during World War II and never reconstructed.

Le Malentendu was premiered in Macerata. Its text is after Camus’ play, shortened so that the performance has a total 90 minutes’ duration without intermission. The four singers come from different European countries: the mother (Elena Zilio) is Italian, the daughter Martha (Sofia Solovij) Ukrainian, the son Jean (Mark Milhofer) British, his wife Maria (Davinia Rodrìguez) from Las Palmas. There is also a fifth character, the servant (Marco Iacomelli) - silent throughout the performance until his final explosion (a very loud “No!”). The orchestra, conducted by the French Guillaume Tournaire, is made up of five strings, a clarinet/bass clarinet, and an accordion.

The plot is simple: after many years, Jean goes back to his family and rents a room in the small B & B which his mother and his sisters operate. He does not unveil himself as he wishes to be recognized by his family; he gives his passport to the servant who keeps the information strictly to himself. As a result of this malentendu (misunderstanding), he is killed by the two women, who intend to steal his money. When the servant finally shows them Jan’s document, they are in despair. In tears, his wife asks God if there is a meaning to all this. The until-then-silent servant explodes with a loud “No!”

A scene from Le Malentendu

Camus wrote Le Malentendu in 1941, when France was under occupation. The play is pervaded with symbolism, expressionism and existentialism. It is theater of the absurd, or of the absurdity of life. It mirrors a deep crisis in Europe. To enhance full understanding of the text, singing is harsh declamation sliding into melodic intervals, a couple of arioso and duets. The orchestration is rich; the accordion is the link between the strings and clarinet/bass clarinet, and conveys anguish and loneliness in the voyage to nowhere by the protagonists. Singing and acting is of high quality, and because nearly all the four singers have perfect French diction – a rarity in opera performances in Italy. The only exception is Sofia Solovij: she excels dramatically but her French is barely understandable. A special mention to Elena Zilio, for the difficult role she takes at her not quite so young age.

Kafka Fragmente was also premiered in a comparatively small town, Rimini. Kurtág composed it nearly 20 years ago .Until last year it had only concert performances, although its author considers it “a street opera” – viz, a real opera (not a lieder cycle) to be “staged” in the street, in a tramway, in the midst of the crowd of a city. It lasts 50 minutes. It is made up of four scenes (without intermission) and requires only two interpreters: a soprano and a violinist –both young and attractive. Last year, a staged version toured France and part of Germany; it was conceived for regular theatres with a proper stage, stalls and balconies or boxes. It did not really fit Kurtág’s design of a “street opera”. This new production places the stage in a high Plexiglas and wood structure at the centre of the dilapidated hall: it shows the small apartment of a youngster at the beginning of the twentieth Century. The public sits on both sides of this unusual stage – perfect for any comparatively large hall. On the Plexiglas walls, footage of old movies is projected, to provide the colour of the four scenes. The footage is skilfully mixed in order not to allow the audience to identify the individual films.

The staging is international. Denis Krief , the mastermind (stage director and also responsible for costumes and lighting) was born in Tunisia, is a resident of Rome and has in his veins Jewish, Arab, French, Italian and Austro-Hungarian blood. The soprano is the Italian Sara Allegretta, the violinist the French Jeanne Marie Conquer.

Based on fragments of Kafka’s diary as well as of his first novel (Amerika), the four scenes have a development: the growing up to age of a fragile young person. The musical tension is between the voice and the instrument, heightened by the fact that the soprano and the violinist cannot see one another. Kurtág’ s vocal and instrumental writing is elegant - there is no minimalism at all in the intense 50 minutes, even though there are only two interpreters. They both have virtuoso roles. Sara Allegretta is a soprano assoluto with the full gamut of lyric, dramatic and even coloratura nuances; personally, in certain moments, I would have liked also a Wagnerian pitch. Jeanne Marie Conquer was simply exquisite.

Giuseppe Pennisi

image=http://www.operatoday.com/kafka1.gif image_description=From Kafke Fragmente product=yes product_title=Matteo D’Amico: Le Malentendu; György Kurtág: Kafka Fragmente product_by=Le Malentendu: E. Zilio, S. Solovij, M. Millhofer, D. Radrìguez, M. Iacomelli. Quartetti Bernini (M.Serino, Y. Ichichara, G. Saggini, V. Taddeo), M. Ceccarelli, M. Patarini, musical direction Guillaume Tournaire, stage direction Saverio Marconi, stage sets Gabriele Moreschi. Macerata, Teatro Italia.

Kafka Fragmente: S. Allegretta, J-M. Conquer. Stage direction, set, costumes and lighting Dennis Krief. product_id=Above: From Kafke Fragmente

Gustav Mahler: Symphony no. 4 in G major

While that recording dates from the early 1990s, Sinopoli performed the work later in his career with different forces, and that resulted in an impressive reading of the Fourth Symphony with the Staatskapelle Dresden. The performance of the Fourth Symphony was part of the 1999 Dresden Music Festival, specifically a concert given on 29 May 1999. With this recent issue by Hänssler in its Profil series in the Edition Staatskapelle Dresden, a fine recording of that performance is now available.

This later recording is notable in several way, since it is an impressive performance of the work and involves a fine interpretation of the Song-Finale “Das himmlische Leben” by the soprano Juliane Banse. In addition, the recording also preserves a seventeen-minute talk by Sinopoli, which serves as an introduction to the work. (The talk is given in German, with a transcription by Eberhard Steindorf included in the program notes.)

As a respected interpreter of Mahler’s music, Sinopoli brings a fine sense of style to his conception of this work. The first movement is conceived well, with a deft sensitivity to the form of the movement and its scoring. From the opening moments of the movement, Sinopoli conveys a dynamism, which allows the work to move forward. His tempo for the opening gesture, the so-called *Schellenkappe *- the jangling bells of the fool’s cap - are perfunctory, so that Sinopoli can give a more nuanced shape to the main theme. This kind of fluidity is characteristic of the entire movement is carefully structured, without seeming calculated. Such attention to details is consistent throughout, and includes a well-conceived tempo for the coda, which has the appropriate sense of underscoring the music that came before it.

With the Scherzo, Sinopli offers a similarly structured approach to the work, so that the passages for the *scordatura *solo violin emerged easily. A similar expansiveness occurs later, when other solo instruments are part of the structure, and the latitude Sinopoli gave those entrances fits well into the overall . His sense of drama at eh climax of the movement stands out from other performances, because of the breadth Sinopoli adds to the music at this point. The cadence into the section suggests, momentarily a sense of rubato, which the strings take up in an exemplary rendering of the portamento Mahler indicated in the score.

The third movement contains an emotional pitch which needs the expression Sinopoli used in this performance. From the opening measures, which evoke the ensemble “Mir ist so wunderbar” in the quartet from the first act of Beethoven’s opera Fidelio, Sinopoli offers a clear vision of this tightly structured movement. A set of double variations, the performance also has a sense of spontaneity which comes from the intense playing of the Staatskapelle Dresden. The sustained pitches of the violins never flag, while the wind sonorities intersect without becoming overbearing. Without seeing the performance, it is possible to perceive an intensity in the interactions of the members of the orchestra in this recording. In some of the passages of the slow movement, the players seems attuned to the score, such that the give-and-take which necessarily occurs in professional ensembles like this one is even more acute. Midway through the movement, in the passage for solo oboe, the slightly slower tempo that Sinopoli used, allows details to emerge, like the written-out ornaments and the horn figures which response to each other distinctively. While it is nowhere rushed, the movement contains a well-considered intensity that solidly sets up the coda, the famous fanfare, which anticipates the concluding movement found in the song “Das himmlische Leben.” As elsewhere in this performance, no details have escaped Sinopoli, and his attention to the final measures of the coda demonstrate his knowledge of Mahler’s works in the way he brought out the motivic relationship to the song “Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen”in the thematic content, while simultaneously rendered the texture so that it has a timbral affinity to the scoring, which anticipates the *Adagietto *of the Fifth Symphony.

In the concluding movement, Juliane Banse offers a sensitive reading of the Song-Finale, with exemplary diction and expression. Her phrasing makes sense of both the poetry and its musical setting, a combination which is lauded, but rarely executed. That stated, Banse offers here a moving and insightful reading of the song. The balance between the lower and upper registers of her voice is nicely even, and complemented by a fine tone in the sustained pitches, which Banse takes to the full values of the notation. It is difficult to point to any single passage without slighting others, but the phrase “Sanct Ursula dazu lacht” evinces the dynamic tension and insightful musicality of Banse’s performance, with the portamento reinforcing the cadence and the change of mood in the song. This is but one passage in a performance which is consistently satisfying on various levels. Moreover, in conceiving the Song-Finale, Sinopoli has taken the movement a little more slowly than some other conductors, and this brings out certain elements, which connect the song to the movements which precede it. It is, ultimately, a convincing performance because of the intensity, which emerges in the various details that come together brilliantly.

This performance is a fine addition to the discography of the composer, and especially that of the Fourth Symphony. While a number of fine recordings of this work exist, the execution of the score in this particular performance offer perspectives which demonstrate the perennial appeal of this work. Without displacing the other fine recording of the Fourth Symphony which Sinopoli released, those who appreciate his intelligent and exciting art will not be disappointed in this extraordinary performance from the latter part of his career. Moreover, Sinopoli’s introduction to the work, the last band of the CD, affords the opportunity of hearing the late conductor talk about this music in person, and this is a welcome bonus on this outstanding recording.

James L. Zychowicz

image=http://www.operatoday.com/CPOMahler4.gif imagedescription=Gustav Mahler: Symphony no. 4

product=yes producttitle=Gustav Mahler: Symphony no. 4 (Edition Staatskapelle Dresden Vol. 21) productby=Juliane Banse, soprano, Staatskapelle Dresden, Giuseppe Sinopoli, conductor. productid=Hänssler PH0747 [CD] price=$17.98 producturl=http://astore.amazon.com/operatoday-20/detail/B0013Y0EIU

Wigmore Hall Song Competition

Thus various Wigmore regulars on the outcome of the Song competition - but what can you expect? Cardiff is the same - ‘Outrageous! The Counter-tenor should have won’ / ‘She only won because she was the most polished’ / ‘The tenor ought to have won / and so on. Perhaps the first statement above is the most useful, since any judgment is going to be, and in a way it’s amazing that a jury so diverse can come to any sort of agreement at all. What was not in doubt, however, was that all of the finalists (and, indeed, many of those who did not make it that far) are very likely to have great careers ahead of them.

Marcus Farnsworth has a lovely, very light, sweet baritone voice, not unlike that of Simon Keenlyside, and his programme was both daring and reassuring - daring because he began not with a lollipop but with a very serious slice of Schubert, and reassuring because it had enough variety to please everyone. ‘Nachtstück’ is the kind of thing with which you might expect Goerne to open a recital, so Marcus did well to produce such a lovely, flowing legato at ‘Du heil’ge Nacht.’ Strauss’ ‘Gefunden’ was almost as daring, showcasing the singer’s reserves of power at the end, so it was a welcome relief that he followed it with Loewe’s ‘Hinkende Jamben,’ which got some laughs from the audience. He was perhaps at his best in the English group, showing his tenorial top notes in Butterworth’s ‘Think no more, lad’ and a smooth legato line in Britten’s arrangement of ‘The last rose of summer.’ He was eloquently accompanied by the very confident, extremely sympathetic Elizabeth Burgess, whose playing I have previously enjoyed in Oxford. Marcus won the First Prize.

The soprano Erin Morley’s programme did not appeal to me very much - it felt like too much Russian and just a nod to the great Lieder composers (no Schubert) - but then that’s a very personal remark! There’s no doubt that she has a lovely voice, very bright, forward and well focused, perhaps at this time more suited to the operatic stage than the recital platform. Rossini’s ‘La fioraia fiorentina’ showed her at her confident best, and Schumann’s ‘Liebeslied’ gave a hint of how she might develop as a recitalist. She was placed third in the final.

For me, Benedict Nelson was the most promising of the finalists, and he also had the best accompanist I heard in Gary Matthewman. Of course, one is influenced by choice of programme, and theirs seemed to me to show an excellent balance of styles and moods. At the moment, Benedict’s French is a little heavy to really catch the atmosphere of Duparc’s ‘La vie antérieure’ but his Mahler and Schumann suggested a maturity beyond that expected of someone who is only 26. ‘Die zwei blauen Augen’ was a very ambitious choice, but he pulled it off well, showing a fine legato line at ‘Auf der Strasse steht ein Lindenbaum.’ Schumann’s ‘Die alten, bösen Lieder’ needed a little more colour and variety in the tone, but Gary’s nachspiel was finely done. Benedict came second in the final.

Sidney Outlaw has a real personality, and was probably the best communicator of the four. He was the audience favourite, but I felt he let himself down with some of his choices - ‘Erlkönig’ is simply too well known and it’s too easy to compare its performance to that of just about every great baritone, and the ‘American’ group felt like too much conforming to type. Kudos to him, though, for being the only one to actually sing something written in this millennium. I felt his baritone had not quite got the measure of the Fauré or the Duparc, but his Brahms showed much promise, especially in the darker parts of ‘Von ewiger Liebe.’ Sidney was placed fourth.

This was another testament to the power and position of the Wigmore Hall: an audience packed not only with the great and the good and the grey-haired, but with the volubly enthusiastic young, enjoyed four mini-recitals of exceptional promise, by singers chosen out of a vast pool of talent containing at least as many again who will surely go on to great things - I would single out the baritone Gerard Collett, the soprano Erica Eloff and the pianist James Bailleu, but I am sure that those who were present for all the stages will have their equally worthy choices. The Pianists’ prize was won by James Bailleu, and he and Gerard Collett won the Jean Meikle Prize for a Duo.

Melanie Eskenazi

image=http://www.operatoday.com/Marcus-Farnsworth.gif image_description=Marcus Farnsworth

product=yes producttitle=Wigmore Hall Song Competition productby=Above: Marcus Farnsworth

Handel/arranged by Mendelssohn: Israel in Egypt

Felix Mendelssohn famously resurrected masterpieces from Johann Sebastian Bach that had, unbelievably, slipped into obscurity in the early 19th century. But he didn’t stop there. This set revives Mendelssohn’s reorchestration of Handel’s Israel in Egypt.

The finely detailed booklet essay by Thomas Synfozik (as translated into English by Susan Marie Praeder) explains the circumstances of the work’s creation and its debut. Apparently Mendelssohn’s version of Handel’s oratorio enjoyed some popularity for a time. In the last few decades, however, a greater appreciation has developed for this and other works by Handel as the composer himself set them (admittedly, with innumerable variations for cast and venue differences).

The guiding force of this performance is Hermann Max, whose booklet biography places him as one of the “key figures” in the development of “authentic performance” in Germany. So we have the oxymoron here of inauthentic authenticity - Mendelssohn’s rewrite of Handel for another time’s tastes is played here with respect for the musical traditions of Mendelssohn’s time.

Ultimately, all that matters is the quality of the performance, and the set qualifies as a success. Max’s orchestra, Das Kleine Konzert, suffers from none of the demerits often associated with “historically informed performance.” Strings, though not large in number, do not scratch and rasp, horns do not bleat. Rhythms are flexible yet disciplined.

All of the six soloists - in a piece with relatively few solo arias for its length - all sing well. One of the two sopranos - the track listing makes any further identification impossible - does have such a piercing, high-lying tone that she resembles a boy soprano. That may well be intentional. The Rheinische Kantorei has a dominant role, and they sing with clarity and color.

Mendelssohn’s version as performed here comes in at just a little over 80 minutes, requiring a second disc. For the time being, most fans of Handel’s oratorio will surely prefer to hear his work as he set it, but this makes an entertaining supplement. Also entertaining are the photos of Hermann Max in the booklet, whose remarkable head of hair suggests what Herbert von Karajan would like with an Afro.

Chris Mullins

image=http://www.operatoday.com/CPOIsrael.gif imagedescription=Israel in Ägypten (Fassung von Mendelssohn 1833)

product=yes producttitle=G. F. Handel: Israel in Ägypten (Fassung von Mendelssohn 1833) productby=Monika Frimmer, Veronika Winter, Heike Grötzinger, Hans Jörg Mammel, Ekkehard Abele, Gregor Finke, Rheinische Kantorei, Das Kleine Konzert, Hermann Max productid=CPO 777 222-2 [2CDs] price=$34.98 producturl=http://astore.amazon.com/operatoday-20/detail/B001RX3KP6

The Proms, Royal Albert Hall, London

By Richard Fairman [Financial Times, 13 September 2009]

In spite of mounting qualms earlier in the year, it has been a good summer for classical music festivals. A couple of weeks ago the Salzburg Festival reported average attendance at 93 per cent, followed by Glyndebourne Festival Opera as high as ever at 96 per cent, and now the BBC Proms has come in at an average figure of 87 per cent for the concerts in the Royal Albert Hall - a hugely impressive figure given the size of the venue and the diversity of the programming. With extra events at nearby Cadogan Hall, the total number of people attending Proms concerts has been the highest ever.

Technology changes the face of productions

By Karen Wada [LA Times, 13 September 2009]

In the theater, technology has been a boon and a bane. Since the introduction of science to the stage three decades ago, it has transformed the way shows are put together. “It pervades everything,” says Alys Holden, director of production for Center Theatre Group. “Lighting, video — which is its own subset — sound and scenery, where automation is huge.”

'Il Trovatore' by the San Francisco Opera

By Richard Scheinin [Mercury News, 12 September 2009]

As is the tradition, the new season at San Francisco Opera was ushered in Saturday night with “The Star-Spangled Banner.” But the bombs weren’t bursting in air. Nicola Luisotti, the company’s new music director, conducted the orchestra almost as if it were an Italian village band, taking the national anthem at a slow clip — charming, but a little odd.

Mid-19th-Century Tale With Oedipal Plot Twist

By Steve Smith [NY Times, 11 September 2009]

Few recent operas have enjoyed the success that Tobias Picker’s “Emmeline” achieved on its arrival in 1996. Its critically acclaimed debut production at the Santa Fe Opera was nationally televised on PBS and issued on CD; New York City Opera mounted the work in 1998.

Linda di Chamounix, Royal Opera House

By Andrew Clark Financial Times, 10 September 2009]

Exactly why a handful of Donizetti operas have risen to the top of the pile, leaving so many others at the bottom, is hard to pinpoint. Conventional wisdom suggests that “Dozinetti” - “composer by the dozen”, as he was dubbed - wrote too many to exert quality control. Then you come across Linda di Chamounix, and the neglect seems unjust. I’ve seen it convincingly staged, but it represents an awkward mixed genre, melodramma semiserio, swinging towards the tragedy of Lucia di Lammermoor one moment and the comedy of Don Pasquale the next.

Verdi: La battaglia di Legnano

Myto is a label for such opera devotees, and thus the apt name of the company’s new budget line: Myto Devotion. This release of a 1973 Milano RAI performance of Verdi’s relatively obscure early work La battaglia di Legnano focuses on tenor Gianfranco Cecchele. His photo, in costume, gets the booklet cover, and disc two ends with ample excerpts from another rare Verdi work, Aroldo, with Cecchele in the lead.

After the expected choral opening to Legnano,, Cecchele appears as the hero, Arrigo. Initially the voice strikes the ear with a manly, appealing spinto sound, darker than that of a lyric. Continued exposure to the voice lessens the appeal. Cecchele cannot quite control the vibrato on held notes, and in longer legato lines the tone gets husky, heavy. The Aroldo performance, recorded two years later in 1975, contains little to suggest the earlier performance doesn’t capture the basic quality of his voice. The Aroldo gets blessed with a better soprano, however, in Angeles Gulin. In the Legnano one Rita Orlandi Malaspina sings Lida. With no biographical information of any kind given in the single fold booklet, guesses as to Ms. Malaspina’s age would be ungentlemanly. Suffice it to say, she sounds like no spring chicken.

The best singing on other disc comes from the veteran baritone Mario Sereni in Legnano. He needs a little time to warm up, and then he puts on a master class, at least relative to his co-stars, in legato and characterization.

As for the opera itself, flashes of Verdi’s genius too seldom shoot through a rather dull atmosphere. The music of Aroldo, a re-write of Stiffelio to get it past the censors, makes one wonder why Myto didn’t devote the set to that entire performance and offer just selections from the Legnano - focusing on Sereni.

Though not first-class, the sound is fine, as is the Milan RAI orchestra under Maurizio Rinaldi. Apparently Myto is aware of Cecchele fans eager for his work. This, then, would be for them.

Chris Mullins

image=http://www.operatoday.com/Myto0012.gif imagedescription=Giuseppe Verdi: La battaglia di Legnano

product=yes producttitle=Giuseppe Verdi: La battaglia di Legnano productby=Mario Rinaudo; Franco Calabrese; Alfredo Giacomotti; Massimiliano Malaspina; Mario Sereni; Rita Orlandi Malaspina; Gianfranco Cecchele; Giuseppe Morresi; Vera Magrini; Marcello Munzi; Walter Brighi. Orchestra Sinfonica e Coro di Milano della Rai/Maurizio Rinaldi. Live recording: Milan, November 14, 1973. productid=Myto 2 MDCD 0012 [2CDs] price=$41.98 producturl=http://astore.amazon.com/operatoday-20/detail/B001JFKW7Q

Richard Strauss: Elektra

Such is the case with this 1953 Köln Rundfunk Elektra, conducted by Richard Kraus. From the first exclamation from one of the house servants, Kraus sets a trajectory of fervid tension, and the commendable Köln Rundfunk orchestral and choral forces keep the manic pace up right to the end.

Three great names dominate the cast. The preeminent Wotan of his time, Hans Hotter sings an Orest of such nobility that it makes Elektra almost obtuse in not recognizing her brother sooner. No one expects an Elektra to have a beautiful voice, and Astrid Varnay doesn’t, but she does have the power and edge to define her crazed, pathetic character. 1953 was still fairly early in Leonie Rysanek’s career, and she would go on to sing Chrysothemis for many years, right up until the famed Metropolitan Opera broadcast with Birgit Nilsson. There are times in this recording when the steelier qualities to both Rysanek and Varnay’s tones overlap enough to blur the distinction between the two sisters. The compensating virtues of their dramatic commitment should ameliorate that problem for most listeners. Res Fischer’s Klytämnestra, along with Helmut Melchert as her paramour, keep pace with their more well-known colleagues.

Capriccio’s booklet has minimal credits and a brief note by Gerhard Persché focused exclusively on the opera. Surely more information about this particular performance exists somewhere, and at the very least, some artist information should be provided. Quibbles. For a performance as exciting as this, avid listeners can do a little online research themselves to fill int he blanks in the documentation. Admirers of this opera and these performers should make no efforts at resistance to this set. It honors Strauss and Hofmannsthal’s creation.

Chris Mullins

image=http://www.operatoday.com/CapriccioC5008.gif imagedescription=Richard Strauss: Elektra

product=yes producttitle=Richard Strauss: Elektra productby=Gertie Charlent; Hasso Eschert; Res Fischer; Heiner Horn; Hans Hotter; Ilsa Ihme-Sabisch; Helmut Melchert; Kathe Moller-Siepermann; Helene Petrich; Arno Reinhardt; Kathe Retzmann; Trude Roesler; Leonie Rysanek; Marianne Schroeder; Marlies Siemeling; Astrid Varnay. Cologne Radio Chorus. Cologne Radio Symphony Orchestra. Richard Kraus, conducting. productid=Capriccio C5008 [2CDs] price=$16.99 producturl=http://astore.amazon.com/operatoday-20/detail/B001ND9BNU

Mahler: Symphony no. 1

Still in process, the recordings of Symphonies nos. 2, 3, 6, and 7 have been issued to date, with the release of Symphony no. 8 immanent. (Gergiev included the Adagio of the unfinished Tenth Symphony with the recording of Symphony no. 2). In addition, the recently issued CD of the First Symphony stems from live performances given in January 2008 at the Barbican, London. From the outset the sound is vivid, and it matches the somewhat vibrant approach Valery Gergiev has taken for the first movement. Yet the rather quick tempos do not always match the character of the music As ambiguous as the marking “Wie ein Naturlaut” (“like a sound in nature”) may be, the suggestion is usually taken to allow the opening to take shape slowly. Instead of the kind of atmospheric introduction which other conductors achieve, the pacing of the short ideas that follow moves to the main theme of the movement very quickly. As clear as the performance is, the quick tempos do not allow the cantabile nature of the first theme emerge, as it should with its evocation of the second song from the cycle Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen, “Ging heut’ morgen übers Feld.” While it has some very effective moments, the absence of such connections to the innate vocality of the first movement makes the piece seem disconnected from the style associated with Mahler’s music.

With the second movement, though, Gergiev maintains his crisp tempos, but here it fits better into the style of the piece. The lyrical theme of the second section is, on the other hand, played with such a decided slowness that the sense of tempo sometimes escapes. Nevertheless, the playing is precise and clean, but sometimes more percussive sounding than occurs in other performances. In this movement, though, the dynamic contrasts are pronounced nicely and support the musical structure well. Within the interplay of dynamics and articulation, the orchestral colors represent the score well, with the brass prominent without overbalancing the strings.

Such sensitivity to the timbre is crucial to the third movement, which begins almost imperceptibly. The canon on the tune “Bruder Martin” is paced nicely, with the wood line supporting the contrapuntal texture nicely. With the second section, the portion which Mahler once characterized as suggesting Bohemian town musicians, the popular, or folk-like idiom is apparent without being exaggerated. Gergiev is also good to shade the tempos nicely, and with them the solo instruments. The solo trumpet is notable for the shading that occurs here, and the overall effect is a fine representation of the score. In the middle section, the one in which Mahler develops melodic ideas from “Die zwei blauen Eigen,” the final song of his cycle Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen, offers a fine contrast to the other ideas in the movement. Yet the sound levels of the final portion of the movement fade too soon.

Such a dramatic change in dynamic level does offer a setup for the opening of the Finale, which begins with a fine sense of drama. While tempos are not problematic for this movement, the sound levels are sometimes overbalanced. The extremes of dynamic level sometimes result in a fast-and-loud or slow-and-quiet dialectic. What needs to emerge in this movement are more sustained textures in which tone colors, dynamic levels, and articulations combine to create the effects Mahler scored. As with the other movements, the playing is satisfying throughout, but the nuances betray over- and understatement. The kind of sustained effects which Gergiev brought to his recent recording of Shostakovich’s Seventh Symphony, for example, would work well here. The concluding in which the scalar theme that evokes for some Handel’s chorus “And he shall reign forever and ever,” as Stephen Johnson mentions in his liner notes, should emerge from the other ideas in the movement. Here, though, is seems disconnected from the larger structure. As much as the pacing of the concluding section is dramatic, the final two notes seem, perhaps, not sufficiently assertive.

Part of Gergiev’s cycle of Mahler’s symphonies with the London Symphony Orchestra, this recording has its merits, but it also raises questions about stylistic issues in performing this important early work by Mahler. The roles of tempo, thematic cohesion, and dynamic contrasts, and other elements are important to the effective execution of this work. As familiar as Mahler’s First Symphony may be to modern audiences, it remains a demanding score on the part of the interpreter. Again, as a live performance, this recording differs from some of the studio recordings, with exciting playing on the part of the London Symphony Orchestra.

James L. Zychowicz

image=http://www.operatoday.com/Mahler1Gergiev.gif imagedescription=Gustav Mahler: Symphony no. 1

product=yes producttitle=Gustav Mahler: Symphony no. 1 productby=London Symphony Orchestra. Valery Gergiev, conductor. productid=LSO 063 [SACD] price=$18.98 producturl=http://astore.amazon.com/operatoday-20/detail/B0017TZ92W

Fidelio from Glyndebourne and Medici Arts

As if this were not enough, the opera is also Beethoven’s political testament, an attack on tyranny and injustice initiated (quite literally) with a trumpeted call to arms for the forces of truth and fraternity. Fortunately, this confused (and some might argue, irreconcilable) juxtaposition of genres contains some of the composer’s most beautiful music, and lovers of the work will undoubtedly welcome these two recently released recordings of Beethoven’s only completed opera. Both performances date from 2006: an audio recording of a Glyndebourne production featuring Anja Kampe, Torsten Kerl, and the London Philharmonic conducted by Mark Elder, and a filmed performance (celebrating the opening of the new Palau de les Arts of Valencia) with Waltraud Meier and Peter Seiffert accompanied by the Community Orchestra of Valencia under Zubin Metha.

A comparison of these two productions — one a two CD set, and the other a DVD — while inherently unfair, is revealing. From the first notes of the overture it is obvious that the Gyndebourne production features the better orchestra and more inspired conductor: throughout the performance Elder’s direction of the LPO is a heavenly delight. This is not meant as a criticism of Maestro Mehta, however, who still manages to create some powerful moments while working with a much younger and less accomplished orchestral ensemble. It is particularly regrettable that, unlike the Valencia version, the Glyndebourne production does not include a performance of the third Leonore overture before the second act finale (a tradition, begun by Mahler in Vienna, which Metha wisely follows). The Gyndebourne recording also features the better chorus (prepared by Thomas Blunt) — “O welche Lust” is sung with excellent diction, wonderful dynamic contrast, and superior balance by the British troupe. Elder’s direction of the LPO in the performance of the Haydenesque introduction to the chorus is unforgettable.

Waltraud Meier is a dynamic and powerful presence as Leonore, and her considerable talents are fully utilized in the Valencia production. The contrast between the vocal styles of Meier and Kampe is nowhere more evident than in “Mir ist so wunderbar” — Meier’s tone is commanding and mature, whereas Kampe’s seems less so. This comparison holds throughout the performances: Meier is simply more convincing and at ease in the showcase arias and duets. Her performance of “O namenlose Freude!” with Seiffert is remarkable, and is undoubtedly the happy result of their frequent collaboration together in other roles (most recently in the Met production of Tristan). Seiffert is less compelling when Meier is not on stage, however. Torsten Kerl’s Florestan is more endearing: the youthful tenor’s rendition of “Gott, Welch Dunkel hier” is athletic and impassioned, and made all the more enjoyable by the special touches added by the London Philharmonic’s wonderful accompaniment.

In the secondary roles each performance offers some special moments. Matti Salminen is surpisingly comfortable in his role as Rocco, and even pulls off the notoriously awkward “Hat man nicht auch Gold beineben” aria beautifully. While the voice is at times strained and raspy, his expressive presence, particularly in ensemble numbers, elevates the performances of his fellow cast members. Brindley Sherratt’s Rocco is adequate in the Glydnebourne version, but little more. Lisa Milne is impressive as Marzelline, and displays an enthusiasm for her role which Ildikó Raimondi seems not to. The rising Finnish star, Juha Uusitalo is an impressive and menacing Don Pizarro (seeing him interact on stage with fellow-Finn Salminen in the “Es schlägt der Rache Stunde” is a real treat), and Rainer Trost is a far more convincing and lyric Jaquino than Andrew Kennedy, whose voice seems forced and pinched throughout much of the performance.

Pierluigi Pier’Alli’s direction of the Valencia version features some fascinating video effects. His creative use of the motif of chains and prison bars (projected onto the screen on stage) which leads to Florestan’s aria to open Act II is highly effective. Despite this, some may find his otherwise rather conservative approach to much of the rest of the work a trifle dull, and it is unfortunate that Deborah Warner’s edgy Glyndebourne production can only be seen in a few photos in the album notes. One welcomes Pier’Alli’s willingness to allow Meier an opportunity to explore the full range of her dramatic abilities, particularly during the prisoner’s chorus, where the soprano wanders the stage in a futile search for Florestan — an unforgettable effect which she brings off beautifully.

Because of the merits of each performance it is difficult to choose between these two recordings. The Glyndebourne version is dynamic and more aurally pleasing, but the added visual dimension of the Valencia recording is quite powerful. Certainly, newcomers to Fidelio will appreciate the DVD version more than a sound recording, even a relatively good one. I suspect that those who already know the opera well will enjoy both of these new issues — each performance brings out different facets of the work, an opera which, despite its many flaws, remains one of the most enjoyable products of Beethoven’s genius.

Donald R. Boomgaarden
Dean of the College of Music and Fine Arts
Loyola University New Orleans

image=http://www.operatoday.com/Medici_2072498.gif image_description=Medici Arts DVD 2007 product=yes product_title=Ludwig van Beethoven: Fidelio product_by=Carsten Stabell; Juha Uusitalo; Peter Seiffert; Waltraud Meier; Matti Salminen; Ildikó Raimondi; Rainer Trost; Javier Agulló; Nahuel di Pierro; Cor de la Generalitat Valenciana. Orquestra de la Comunitat Valenciana; Lorin Maazel, Music Director. Zubin Mehta product_id=Medici Arts 2072498 [DVD] price=$26.99 product_url=http://astore.amazon.com/operatoday-20/detail/B001QUL6WO

Danielle de Niese: The Mozart Album

The Mozart Album, however, is a cautionary tale of sorts that serves as a reminder that Mozart is not to be taken lightly. Ask any vocalist or instrumentalist, Mozart is the most difficult composer to perform. Why? Mozart demands technical perfection, a superior level of musicianship, subtle phrasing and a command of the musical drama. In short, he demands everything!

In The Mozart Album, de Niese runs the gamut of repertoire from sacred arias, to concert arias, to opera arias, and, finally, to a duet with baritone Bryn Terfel. She begins with Exsultate, jubilate (K165), a motet for soprano, organ, and orchestra in three movements. Throughout, de Niese displays incredibly accurate coloratura lines gleaming with color. Notably absent, however, are a consistent legato and warmth in the lines. At times there is a strange straight-tone quality within the phrases that make no stylistic sense and that tends to distract the listener. While the first two movements are lacking in drama, she performs “Alleluia, ” the third movement and certainly the crown jewel of the motet, with high-flying coloratura lines and finessed phrasing. These inconsistencies in performance quality, unfortunately, plague The Mozart Album.

In the concert aria “Bella mia fiamma, addio!,” Ms. de Niese’s performance is much more secure with support and warm returning to the voice, even in the legato lines. The opening recitative is infused with drama from the outset, the escalating phrases captivating the listener. Within the aria, there are brilliant, but fleeting, moments of clarity. Throughout the aria, the listener can hear air escaping during the execution of the tone, making the sound quite fuzzy. “Bella mia fiamma” requires strength in the tone because of its bold harmonic nature and expansive range, and without that, the intended effect of the piece is lost.

If the purpose of The Mozart Album is to “show her stuff,” de Niese’s selection of “Al desio di chi t’adora” is a puzzlement. One of many alternate arias to “Deh, vieni, non tardar, ” “Al desio” pales against “Deh, vieni,” the greatest test of the lyric soprano that demands excruciating long lines, incredible vocal support, delicate shaping within the vocal lines, and an ability to release the drama while maintaining control. Instead, “Al desio” gives us more of the same — short phrases and an abundance of coloratura — all with a lack of sensitivity.

The middle selections are the highpoint of this recording, which include “Una donna a quindici anni,” “Padre, germani, addio!”, and “Ah! fuggi il traditor.” Despina’s aria is full of fiery energy, the Italian facilitating her brilliant comic vocal lines. The aria from Idomeneo, the first of Mozart’s great operas, is quite similar to Handel’s writing style, although Mozart injects more drama within the music and utilizes more complicated forms and harmonic structures than Handel. Ms. de Niese seems to be at her most comfortable in this piece. The aria is full of moving lines and coloratura, the tessitura particularly highlighting the beautiful parts of her voice.

Donna Elvira’s aria “Ah! fuggi il traditor!” from Giovanni proves a pleasant surprise. De Neise comments, “Although I have not yet sung Elvira on the stage, this aria really represents the direction I’m heading in vocally, as my voice is growing a lot.” Her Elvira is bursting with anger, and she seems to grab hold of the extensive range and disjunct intervals with power and ease. This aria is a tour de force, but inasmuch as it is less than two minutes in duration, it is difficult to discern whether her voice is capable of singing the entire role. I am hopeful that she continues to move in this stronger, fuller lyric direction.

The penultimate selection is the duet “La chi darem la mano” from Don Giovanni, performed with Bryn Terfel. Ms. de Niese follows his lead regarding the musical phrases, and allows much more finesse to shape her vocal line. But, the final selection, “Laudate Dominum” (from Vesperae solennes de confessoreis (K339)), is another disappointment. This piece requires considerable vocal control and support to navigate the large leaps and long, soaring phrases. Yet, in endeavoring to maintain the solemn character of the piece, her performance lacks the energy that predominates in her highly dramatic selections. Also, the Apollo Voices are not polished in the choral comments. There is a lack of blend, with the phrasing being more disjointed than soaring and Mozartian.

This album says a great deal about Ms. de Niese’s vocal direction. Her voice continues to maneuver coloratura with great aplomb, yet the legato lines that are needed for her to move into fuller lyric coloratura repertoire are not yet worked out. In the liner notes, Brian Dickie reveals that many of the pieces on this album were first performed in the soprano’s high school years, and I suspect that her technical delivery of this music is influenced by her initial exposure to the repertoire. Perhaps another Mozart album will bring forth the fuller, dramatic repertoire that Ms. de Niese is growing into. And I suspect that as her voice grows into its own, her Mozart will become fuller, more grounded, and easily shaped to truly convey the composer’s musical and dramatic intentions.

Sarah Luebke

image=http://www.operatoday.com/MozartAlbum.gif imagedescription=The Mozart Album

product=yes producttitle=The Mozart Album productby=Danielle de Niese, soprano; Bryn Terfel, bass-baritone. Apollo Voices. Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment. Sir Charles Mackerras, conducting. productid=478 1511 2 price=$13.99 producturl=http://astore.amazon.com/operatoday-20/detail/B0027T5L4C

Franco Corelli: The Tenor as Hero

The qualities that made Corelli a star fan out in proud display — firm attack, dark-hued honey tone, aggressive leaps to a ringing top. Idiosyncrasies that prompted quibbles are in evidence as well, such as the occasional odd pronunciation that suggests his tongue couldn’t keep up with his vocal chords. Such a quality can actually prove endearing when there is so much tenorial beauty pouring out.

With each of the four discs amply filled at over 75 minutes each, the five hours of Franco Corelli vocalism EMI selected promise more variety than it can actually deliver. Corelli’s approach to the opening aria, Bellini’s “A Te, o cara” differs hardly at all from his way with “Celeste Aida” or “O sole mio.” As EMI’s set subtitle has it, this is “The Tenor as Hero” — almost unrelenting in his strength, tossing off feats of vocal athleticism without breaking a sweat. When the material fits the Corelli voice well, the results can stun. Disc two features the set’s best singing, with a ringing “Cielo e mar!”, and highlights from the ubiquitous Cav-Pag double-bill that can rattle one’s spine. Disc one has more Verdi, where Corelli’s relatively unvaried approach doesn’t always suit the particular character. Why would the Duke of Mantua want to shout out “La donna è mobile”?

Disc three opens with Corelli singing the heroic aria from Massenet’s El Cid and then continues on to his Gounod Romeo, almost frightening is his ardent declarations. At that point, with Schubert’s “Ave Maria”, the rest of the set either becomes a fulfillment of a Corelli lover’s dream, or a test of endurance. More the latter for your reviewer, unfortunately. Corelli blasts his way through a few sacred numbers and a couple dozen classics from the Italian songbook. The recordings arranged by one Raffaele Mingardo waft tastelessly over the top, with sighing choral gushings and 20th Century Fox strings. Those arrangements by Franco Ferraris are exemplary by comparison, though by comparison only. In track after track, Corelli pours it on thick, and far too many selections end with an extended high note, not always gracefully achieved.

Corellli’s fans will love every minute, surely. For others, skip the excerpts and go for the complete opera sets to hear the tenor in his glory and in context. Meanwhile, may one ask why EMI chose a cover photo that makes the handsome Corelli look like the magician David Copperfield?

Chris Mullins

image=http://www.operatoday.com/CorelliHero.gif imagedescription=Franco Corelli: The Tenor as Hero

product=yes producttitle=Franco Corelli: The Tenor as Hero productby=Franco Corelli, tenor, and other artists. productid=EMI Classics 2 64887 2 [4CDs] price=$26.98 producturl=http://astore.amazon.com/operatoday-20/detail/B001QEJQY0

To aria is human, to tweet divine

Marcia Adair [Toronto Star, 7 September 2009]

LONDON, ENGLAND-And so begins Twitterdämmerung, the new opera premiered at London’s Royal Opera House Saturday afternoon.

The libretto was created over three weeks by Royal Opera House Twitter followers, inspired by the party game Consequence, according to ROH spokesperson Sara Parsons, where one person writes a line to a story, folds the paper and hands it to the next person to write the following line. The result is then read aloud and hilarity ensues.

Actus Tragicus, review

By Rupert Christiansen [The Telegraph, 7 September 2009]

The curtain rises on Actus Tragicus to show a stage filled with the cross-section of a modern tenement block. Slowly its 20 rooms fill with about 50 ordinary people engaged in a spectrum of human activities, from ironing and dressing to making love and contemplating suicide. Death is at hand: a black-suited figure prowls silently, and the naked body of the unresurrected Christ lies in the cellar.

Rusalka, Norwegian National Opera, Oslo

By Desmond Chewyn [Financial Times, 7 September 2009]

The first ever production of Antonín Dvorák’s Rusalka in Norway marked not just the opening of the ambitious 2009/2010 season but also an exciting beginning for a new artistic team at Norwegian National Opera. The Glaswegian stage director Paul Curran unveiled his first season opener as the company’s new director of opera, choosing to multi-task by directing the work himself.

Actus tragicus at the Festival Theatre

Hilary Finch [Times Online, 6 September 2009]

Yes, this is the opera that Johann Sebastian Bach never wrote. Six cantatas staged in a huge doll’s house of a set, as a sort of community Everyman morality play. Actus tragicus was the director Herbert Wernicke’s artistic last will and testament: it was premiered in Basel in 2000 and Wernicke died two years later. The Stuttgart Staatsoper adopted the show in 2006 and have just brought it to Edinburgh, playing to packed houses.

MASSENET: Werther — Vienna 2000

First performance: 16 February 1892 at the Hofoper, Vienna.

Principal characters

Werther, 23-years old	Tenor
Albert, 25-years old	Baritone
Le Bailli, 50-years old	Baritone or bass
Schmidt, friend of Bailli	Tenor
Johann, friend of Bailli	Baritone or bass
Brühlmann, young man	Tenor
Charlotte, daugher of Bailli, 20-years old	Mezzo-soprano
Sophie, her sister, 15-years old	Soprano
Kätchen, young girl	Soprano
Six children: Fritz, Max, Hans, Karl, Gretel, Clara	Soprani or children’s voices

Synopsis

Act I

On the outskirts of Frankfurt, July 178_.

On the terrace of the house of the bailiff, children are practicing Christmas carols. Sophie, the bailiff’s fifteen-year-old daughter, looks on while her older sister, Charlotte, prepares for a party. The guests arrive. Among them is the young dreamer Werther (“Je of it sais him je veille”), whom the bailiff introduces to Charlotte. While all are at the dance, Sophie is at home alone when Albert, who is engaged to Charlotte, returns from a long trip. He is greatly disturbed that Charlotte has gone to a dance with another. But Sophie reassures him — his beloved has always thought of him (“Elle me aime”). The two depart, whereupon Werther and Charlotte reenter. Werther declares to her his love, but Charlotte tells him of her promise to her dying mother to marry Albert. Werther, although desperate, doesn’t oppose (“The faut nous séparer”).

Act II

The following September in the plaza of Wetzlar.

Albert and Charlotte have been married for three months and their friends toast their union. The unhappy Werther attends. Sophie arrives, who is in love with Werther, asks him to dance; but the invitation is rejected. Werther wants to talk to Charlotte. He approaches her to declare his love once more. But she responds by recommending that he leave for a few months and return on Christmas. Werther begins to think that only death can free him from his unhappiness. He again refuses Sophie’s invitation to the dance.

Act III

Christmas Eve in the living room of Albert’s house.

Charlotte is uneasy as she rereads a letter of Werther. Sophie asks her if she were sad because of the absence of Werther (“Je vous écris”). Charlotte begins to weep. Werther arrives. While he is reading her some verses of Ossian, he kisses her. They embrace, but Charlotte then runs away confining herself in a room (“Pourquoi me réveiller”). Werther leaves the house. He now knows that there is no happiness for him. Shortly thereafter he sends a note to Albert to ask him to loan him his pistols to take with him on a trip. Charlotte realizes the truth and hurries to Werther’s home.

Act IV

It is Christmas night.

Werther lies dying in his study. Upon hearing the voice of Charlotte, he is revived for an instant. He asks for forgiveness and for a proper burial (“Là-bas, au fond du cimitière”). He dies in Charlotte’s arms as she confesses the truth — she has always loved him. She expresses her regret at having sacrificed her own true feelings to an oath. Children are heard from afar singing Christmas carols.

Click here for the complete libretto.

image=http://www.operatoday.com/werther2.gif image_description=Werther

audio=yes firstaudioname=Jules Massenet: Werther firstaudiolink=http://www.operatoday.com/Werther2.m3u

product=yes producttitle=Jules Massenet: Werther productby=Werther: Marcello Giordani; Charlotte: Jennifer Larmore; Albert: Martin Gantner; Sophie: Patricia Petibon; Le Bailli: William Powers; Johann: Wolfgang Bankl; Schmidt: Ernst-Dieter Suttheimer; Käthchen: Gudrun Burghofer; Brühlmann: Markus Puchberger. Kinder des Knabenchores Bratislava. Einstudierung: Magdalena Rovnakova. Radio-Symphonie-Orchester Wien. Dirigent: Bertrand De Billy. Live performance, 14 July 2000, Vienna.

Christof Loy speaks about the new Tristan und Isolde at the Royal Opera House, London.

This unflinching focus on the music can be shocking. Loy’s recent production of Lulu allowed the maze-like intricacies of Berg’s music to shine while also capturing the disturbing spirit. As Schilgolch says, when he steps on the polished marble in Lulu’s mansion, “Someone could get hurt around here”. What will Loy make of *Tristan und Isolde? *

Perhaps his secret is that he goes back to the soul of the drama. Understanding the roles and how they interact is part of the process. When we met, Loy was still in the early stages of rehearsal, working from the piano, with the singers and conductor, Antonio Pappano. “It is wonderful to be doing this with Nina Stemme, who has sung Isolde so many times. She’s so close to Isolde’s rich personality” Loy and Stemme have enjoyed a good relationship for many years, so working together is a pleasure.

“She understands so much”,he adds, “She knows what I mean when I talk about this opera as chamber-like. There are moments when the music explodes, boiling over with intense emotion. We all have habits and assumptions we don’t even notice we are carrying, but when you study the score carefully, there’s so much stillness, so much delicacy. There are habits we all have without even realizing it, so Sometimes I feel like a policeman, holding things back, saying Attention ! Stop and listen to the quieter parts in the music and hear them carefully. Don’t get too intense too early ! But Nina knows what I mean when I talk about the dangers of rushing in with the wrong kind of heroics, and together we discover more things about the parts”. Loy mentions the recording of Kirsten Flagstad, singing Isolde at Covent Garden in the 1930’s. “She is so fresh, so lyrical, she sings with so much tenderness”.

“There is a tradition of hearing Tristan und Isolde as some kind of Teutonic Romeo and Juliet, and simply portraying them as an unhappy couple in love, thwarted by the world around them. But in the music there is so much more”. The story in this opera starts long before the curtain rises. That’s why the First Act involves so much discussion of Isolde’s past and her motives for wanting revenge. Similarly, Marke’s long monologue fills in background. The action, as such, is in the characters. Thus it’s astute that Loy’s approach has come through understanding what motivates the characters and why they think and act the way they do. “They are like family to me now”, he laughs.

“These are fragile people”, he adds. “And fragile people often hide behind an emotional wall to hide their deepest feelings”. Tristan in particular is a much more complex person than his surface heroism might indicate. “He is an extremely damaged person, carrying so much guilt. His father died after begetting him, his mother died giving him birth, and he breaks his uncle’s heart. ‘Zu welchem Los erkoren, ich damals wohl geboren?’”

“So Tristan feels unworthy, but like so many macho men, he builds up an action hero image which has nothing to do with what he feels inside. He cannot express himself, he hides behind an emotional coat of armour”. To the world he may be “der Helden ohne Gleiche” but Isolde, ever sharp, sees him cowering, “in Scham und Scheue”.

Yet when Marke wants to reward him by making him his heir, it’s Tristan who demands that Marke marry a woman who may give him children. It’s not what Marke wants, but Tristan forces him. Tristan rejects the life Marke offers him, already self destructive. When he sees Isolde, he offers her his own sword, that she may kill him.

“Tristan probably has never had anyone to confide in. But Isolde has no problems at all expressing herself, even though Brängäne can’t keep up. She’s so direct.” ” All that night and day imagery, it’s as though Isolde no longer wants to hide.” So it starts Tristan him opening up, though it’s only when he knows he’s finally about to die that he makes full confession. So it’s so tragic that then he only has Kurnewal around, who doesn’t understand.”

Studying the score, Loy was struck by what it revealed about how relationships grow. “They are so used to being alone that it is quite a shock to them that they’re in love, and that they are loved in return. Throughout the opera there are references to things that aren’t necessarily what they first seem. “So Tristan asks Isolde if she will follow him, he talks about the bed on which he was born and on which his mother died, “das Wunderreich der Nacht”. But she assumes he means he’s going back to his estates, “dein Erbe mir zu ziegen”. “Wagner is extremely clear on many details,” says Loy, “but on some things he’s more subtle.” So I asked Loy about certain aspects of the libretto that I’ve wondered about in the past, like what actually goes on in the Liebestod. He smiled enigmatically, and said “Read the libretto”. In the Liebestod, Isolde is completely convinced that Tristan is alive and breathing, surprised that others can’t see him smile or hear the “melody” that arises from his body. What is the nature of that transfiguring “höchste Lust “?

Christof Loy was awarded the “Musikpreis der Stadt Duisburg” in 2001, for his London staging of Ariadne auf Naxos he was nominated for the Laurence Olivier Award, and in 2003 and 2004 he was named Director of the Year by the critics of the periodical Opernwelt. In 2008, he was awarded with the “Faust”-Theaterpreis. In the near future his opera engagements will take him to the Theater an der Wien (Prinz von Homburg), Stockholm (Ballo in maschera), Amsterdam (Les Vêpres siciliennes), as well as to Geneva (Donna del Lago and Lustige Witwe) and Aix-en-Provence (Alceste). Recent works include: Lucrezia Borgia (Munich), Theodora (Salzburg Festspiele) and Lulu (Royal Opera House).

Anne Ozorio

“Tristan und Isolde” opens at the Royal Opera House, London on 29th September and runs until 18th October. Nina Stemme sings Isolde, Ben Heppner Tristan, John Tomlinson King Marke, Michael Volle Kurnewal, Sophie Koch Brangäne. Please see http://www.roh.org.uk/whatson/production.aspx?pid=9989

image=http://www.operatoday.com/C-loy.gif image_description=Christof Loy [Photo courtesy of Christof Loy and Royal Opera House]

product=yes producttitle=Christof Loy speaks about the new Tristan und Isolde at the Royal Opera House, London. productby=Above: Christof Loy [Photo courtesy of Christof Loy and Royal Opera House]

Aspen stages a Don to die for

A gasp went up when the curtain rose on Mozart‘s Don Giovanni in Aspen’s intimate Wheeler Opera House on August 21. Even at close range the Don — tall, lean, handsome and black — was a dead ringer for Barack Obama. It was, of course, not the president of the United States doubling as the legendary lover, but Donavan Singletary, a current member of the Lindemann Young Artist Development Program at the Metropolitan Opera, who played the Don. Although there is no knowing how adeptly Singletary, already the winner of numerous awards and competitions, might deal with health care, he is — it seems safe to say — the greatest Giovanni to come along since Italy’s Cesare Siepi brought new dimensions of sensuality to the character in the 1950’s.

In erudite notes for this final Aspen Opera Theater production of the 2009 60th anniversary season of the Aspen Music Festival, Edward Berkeley, director both of the program and of this production, discussed Giovanni as the Greek god Dionysus returned to earth. “He’s life force,” Berkeley wrote. “His sensuality and his sex drive has such energy that the rest of this society feels it doesn’t have it’s own energy without Giovanni.” Unable to equal him, however, the others, who are what they are only through their relationship with him, must destroy the Don in order to continue their own trivial lives. Even if he is hauled off to Hell at the end of the opera, there’s clearly more to the story that librettist Lorenzo Da Ponte assembled for Mozart than the Sunday-school tale of a destructive wrong-doer justly punished.

For in Giovanni the audience confronts what Robert A. Johnson in his book Ecstasy called “the irrational wisdom of the senses.” It’s heady stuff, and Berkeley staged one of the best Giovannis ever seen anywhere. To do so, he answered a question open to debate since the opera was new in Prague in 1788: just what had happened in Donna Anna’s room before the drama begins on stage? She was raped, the director says, and that leaves her with feelings of guilt for her father’s death at the Don’s hands and yet irrevocably attracted to the rapist. Anna, in short, knows a good thing when she has experienced it and she knows that Don Ottavio, the aristocratic Milquetoast whom she is to marry, is no match for the Don.

A scene from Don Giovanni

This view brings a tension to the opera lacking in less perceptive stagings, and in Aspen Berkeley had a cast of talented young singers to make his production exceptional. Singletary, equally fluent in voice and body language; moved and sang with an elegance that made him carnality incarnate — a force the equal of a hurricane before which everyday mortals bow their heads.

Yet even more perfect in Aspen was his servant Leporello, portrayed with breathtaking immediacy by Adam Paul Lau, now a graduate student at Rice University. Too often reduced to a merely comic character, Lau understood the serious side of Leporello, his disgust with his master’s devious way and — at the same time — the desire to be like him. He really is the Don’s double.

Yoosun Park and Rachel Sliker were ideally paired as Anna and Elvira, two women unable to turn their backs totally on the attraction of the Don. Sliker played an Elvira ever willing to forgive with a nervous edge that hinted of hysteria, while as Anna Park had her heart set on revenge. Her account of what happened in that crucial night — incomplete as it might have been in detail — was not mere narrative; it was a flesh-and-blood reliving of that fateful hour.

In appearance Aspen’s Ottavio Samuel Read Levine recalled the youthful Jussi Bjoerling; however, his voice, still badly in need of refining discipline, was far more robust than that of the late Swede. As the Commandatore, bass Paul An struck cosmic fear in the hearts of everyone in the Cemetery and final Banquet scenes. Adrian Rosas was a delightfully boyish Mazetto, and it was only Debra Stanley, his Zerlina, who fell below the across-the-board excellence of the cast. Already vocally too mature to be a peasant girl convincing in her innocence, as an actress Stanley took no cues from her colleagues.

A scene from Don Giovanni

As conductor, James Gaffigan, since 2006 associate conductor of the San Francisco Symphony, showed all the markings of a major Mozartean, working with an ensemble that richly displayed the gifts of many Aspen student instrumentalists. Sets by John Kasarda and largely non-descript modern costumes by Marina Reti were functional and, staying out of the way of the music, allowed an interrupted flow of Giovanni’s many scenes. Most significant, however, was Berkeley’s telling of the story of this opera. Rather than answering all the questions about Giovanni, he confronted the audience with the fact that great art dwells in that abyss that lies between human aspiration and achievement. For Giovanni — not unlike his brothers Faust and Tristan — is a man out to know life to its fullest — usually, alas, at the expense of women. As ever-hungry and never-sated Dionysian man, the Don is shattered by the wall of limitations placed in his way by this thing called “reality.” Giovanni pays the price demanded by his many acts of hubris — and one regrets that that is the way things are in this world.

While the Aspen Opera Theater might be regarded primarily as a training program, it is much more than that. Indeed, this production exceeded by far the expectations that one brings to the country’s regional companies and, this — in turn — should prompt them to rethink the role they are too often content to play with yet another run-of-the-mill Carmen or Butterfly.

Finally, as the world this summer celebrates Marian Anderson’s historic 1939 concert at Lincoln Memorial one cheers the Aspen performance in which the first four people to appear on stage were one black and three Asians.

Wes Blomster

image=http://www.operatoday.com/_DSC8130.gif image_description= product=yes product_title=W. A. Mozart: Don Giovanni product_by= product_id=

Mahler and Ligeti at the Proms?

The Gustav Mahler Jugendorchester certainly aren’t Mahler specialists. The name was chosen by Claudio Abbado when he set up his network of interrelated orchestras which have changed the face of European music. Although none of the performers are aged over 26, it’s not a youth orchestra in the usual sense. These players are carefully hand picked from thousands of applicants, and many go on to play in major orchestras.

Their Schoenberg’s Five Orchestral Pieces was lively and crisp and they did the spectacular moments in Also sprach Zarathustra to great effect. But the real test of an orchestra is how they handle the more subtle moments, rather than the big flashy passages like that striking entree to Zarathustra, which everyone knows from TV ads even if they don’t know Kubrick. The GMJO are very accomplished but there is only so much a musician can do at 20, compared to what he or she might do at, say, 45. So this wasn’t a performance of great interpretative depth, but something to enjoy for its sheer beauty.

Ligeti’s Atmosphères is an abstract soundscape. What seems like huge washes of white noise are created by extremes of detail, “microtonal polyphony”. The music moves in swathes of sound, the strings giving way to a surge of brass, each part played with slight variation. It’s the blend that creates the “atmosphere”. Hence the otherworldy sound of percussion brushes played against the strings of the piano : it’s music going boldly where no man has gone before. No wonder Kubrick heard it as “music from another planet”. Jonathan Nott’s soft focus sometimes underwhelms in other repertoire, but it’s perfect for this work, which is one of his specialities.

How would Mahler’s Kindertotenlieder fare in such a program and with an audience geared up for big movie themes ? The songs are about the death of children, and Ruckert’s poems are so personal that it’s almost painful to read them exposed on the printed page. Yet it’s a mistake to assume that such tragedy should lead to hyperfervid, overly operatic performance. Goerne’s approach was psychologically astute. The father in the poems is so numbed, he can only articulate his pain in brief moments : most of his grieving is inwards. This isn’t a time for histrionics.

Goerne’s approach is also musically astute. Kindertoitenlieder evolves like a miniature symphony. Like most of Mahler’s music, it moves towards a resolution, beyond immediate struggle towards some kind of transcendence. Dark into light. So the final song “In diesem Wetter, in diesem Braus”, starts with a storm. Significantly the storm clears into music of great delicacy and clarity. The dead children have gone into a better place where they will be cared for, “as in their mother’s house”. Miss this, and you miss so much of Mahler’s aesthetic. So “going into another place” isn’t really so far away from the rarified vision of Ligeti’s Atmosphères after all.

This Prom is available online on demand until 11 September on www.bbc.co.uk/proms both in audio and TV rebroadcast.

Anne Ozorio

image=http://www.operatoday.com/mahler.gif image_description=Gustav Mahler

product=yes producttitle=Ligeti: Atmosphères; Mahler: Kindertotenlieder; Schoenberg: Five Orchestral Pieces; Strauss: Also sprach Zarathustra productby=Matthias Goerne, Gustav Mahler Jugendorchester, Jonathan Nott, conductor
BBC Prom 65, Royal Albert Hall, London. September 4th 2009

Bayreuth: Multi-layered, Profound "Parsifal"

In the past decade or more, with attention-grabbing competition from an increasing number of world-class festivals, the annual Bayreuth season seems to have had given up on being “renowned” and settled a bit desperately on being “notorious” instead. It is therefore with a happy Herz I report that with the well-calculated, gorgeously conducted Parsifal currently on display, they have generated both excellence and cocktail conversation.

Young director Stefan Herheim is without question a highly talented craftsman. Last fall, his reputation having preceded him, I anticipated much from his Brussels Rusalka, only to find it theatrically vivid but utterly incompatible with the authors’ work. Not so with this Parsifal even if you may find it nutty as I start to expound on it.

In a brilliant stroke, Mr. Herheim chose to interweave the opera’s ritual celebrations and salvation theme with a sweeping history of the construction of the Festspielhaus and Wahnfried (and the premiere of the piece itself), the rise of socialism and the Nazi party, two world wars, and the progress of German/world politics to the present day. Yes, he successfully channeled all this through Parsifal. Moreover, for epic proportions, this extravaganza rivaled *Gone With the Wind *and its Civil War, burning of Atlanta, cotillion dances, and a radish-repulsed Scarlett swearing to rebuild the South, for memorable imagery.

During the prelude, the curtain parts to reveal a famous life-sized view of Wahnfried complete with practical balcony and with the sloping slate of Wagner’s gravestone in place of the prompter’s box. Center stage is a large circle, which rises to bring up a containing garden wall, falls to create a pond, and contains within it a sort of “bull’s eye” trap door that accommodates a fountain, reveals a character or two when required, or carries a tower that can extend to dramatic heights for some stunning effects (such as telescoping skyward surmounted by a Hitler Youth who hurls Klingsor’s spear).

Forefront at the edge of the circle is an omni-present brass bed, outfitted with a false bottom allowing for some truly magical apparitions and exchanges of occupants. During the prelude Herzeleide gives birth to Parsifal and expires. I lost track of who all ended up revealed in this bed but I do believe the next occupant was Kundry, whose swap-out was so smooth as to be discovered only with her first vocalized moan.

The set pieces and decor are all of the period of Parsifal’s composition. A huge fireplace stage right was topped by a framed mirror, which tipped open to stage center and became a menacing platform upon which Klingsor first entered. The stage left unit was rigged so that the double doors could eerily open and close by the themselves allowing all sorts of ghosts and spirits of Bayreuth Past to come and go.

And ghosts a-plenty there are in this visually dazzling production. The new-born baby Parsifal (the “grail”?) is soon re-imagined having grown into a blond Teutonic boy clad in a white sailor uniform. His image is mirrored by a number of other extra blond boys, identically clad in black and sporting black angel wings. In fact the entire adult cast of extras and Gurnemanz are attired in Gesine Völlm’s meticulously styled period attire and those chilling black wings, a populace of Purgatory’s dark angels in search of salvation.

A parallel concept is at work as our young hero “builds” the Wagner home/theatre with child’s blocks atop the grave down center. This is accompanied by some live video projections (by Momme Hinrichs and Torge Møller) of that feat on the large upstage scrim which were sometimes effective, and sometimes contrived. A swirling, meant-to-be-carnal red rose effect took on the look of a screen saver. Later historic footage was used to good result.

As the home’s walls retracted to the wings and returned; as the life-like (and comforting) tree units turned and re-turned; as the curtains parted to reveal one stunning effect after another, the GBQ (Goose Bump Quotient) would not have been nearly so great without the flawless lighting design from Ulrich Niepel. It is hard to remember a production with quite such a complicated plot, and with such a rewarding and effective execution. Kudos to the entire backstage production team. This was tech theatre as good as it gets.

Heike Scheele’s tremendous (in every way) sets were also a key to the show’s impact. It is impossible to convey in words the frisson of nervous electricity that ran through the house when the garish Nazi banners suddenly unfurled at the end of Act II, the newsreel footage of Nazi stormtroopers flooded the scrim, and that huge-ass eagle-‘n’-swastika crest flew in and oppressively dominated the stage picture. Although the effect of the hurling of the spear by the afore-mentioned Hitler youth was slightly marred by a mis-cue, when Parsifal nabbed it (okay, picked up the duplicate) and stuck it in Wagner’s grave, fireworks emanated from its shaft and all hell broke loose. I am sure I was not the only one who jumped in his seat when the massive suspended insignia came crashing down on the bed and smashed to pieces. Theatricality at its best.

Side bar: When I wondered aloud during intermission what Herheim would come up with next, a colleague quipped: “The Marshall Plan?”

The war ruins of Act III were eventually covered by a slowly drawn black curtain, but not before a replica of Wolfgang Wagner’s 1951 letter (when The Festspiel resumed) scrolled over the set, asking that politics be put aside and that this be a place to only discuss and experience music. When the drapes parted one last time for the final assembly, we were in an eye-popping evocation of the Bundestag, with tiered seating for the Chor, a podium, a flag-draped casket (Titurel), and a large round mirror tilted to not only reflect the performers from above, but also the round floor space decorated with a (later) glowing eagle drawing.

As the opera drew to a close, and Gurnemanz, Kundry and the young boy moved forward as a sort of Holy Family, the mirror tilted and moved to hang front and center, now defined as a globe thanks to a gobo projection. Soft Vari-lites began to gently pan the audience. And then, a stylized cut-out of a dove was illuminated over the “globe” that bathed the crowd in a golden light that reflected us in the mirror, all as world citizens. Has this effect been used before? Sure. But it was still powerfully deployed here for as perfect, as moving a close to this panoramic journey as I can imagine.

Best of all, within this “Konzept” Wagner’s tale of redemption always seemed well-served. Okay, okay, for a while it seemed that there were more savior role models than actually required for the task at hand. But there was much interesting subtext about false prophets and facile “spirituality”-of-convenience that had much resonance without being false to the piece. Did everything work equally well? No.

Klingsor’s Castle was a field hospital set up in an available mansion (with a nod to the work’s earliest original set design). Flower Maidens appeared as Hollywood fantasies (with a choreographic nod to Esther Williams) and that was fine, and they were joined by nurses who got pretty naughty with their patients. But when renewed fighting burst through the stage left walls and obvious, stuffed dummies were hurled in as dead bodies; and Parsifal was made to jump from the balcony rather gleefully onto a “cushion” of corpses, well, it just didn’t play with a consistency specific to the intent of that scene. And it has to be said, that the great attempted seduction scene in Act II lost some of its visual steam. However, this might have been in part because of the (only) decently competent performances from our two leads.

Forgive me, Bayreuth, for still having Christa Ludwig and Jon Vickers in my ears from my Met years. But I do. And, well, who wouldn’t? Here were two of the finest, and most distinctive artists/voices of their time. Christopher Ventris (Parsifal) and Mihoko Fujimura (Kundry) worked hard, had absolutely solid techniques, and were totally engaged. I have to say that they were rewarded with a generous and prolonged ovation at the Act II call. But…

Mr. Ventris has a pleasing, round, full, easily produced tenor of good weight, and he conveys the text with clarity and decent color. Overall, I found his vocal impersonation well crafted but rather anonymous. He was not visually helped by first being made to wear a black sailor uniform to replicate the look of the “dream boy Parsifal” which emphasized his age and apparent taste for multiple Steins of the local Lager.

Ms. Fujimara has all the steel needed for Kundry and has a commendable stage presence and commitment. The cruelly exposed high notes were accomplished by sheer force of will, and I longed for more richness in the languorous stretches. Still, her instrument had powerful presence, if not too much tonal variety. She did impart lots of fun, got up as a tuxedo-ed Marlene Dietrich with deep blue angel wings (yes, shades of Der Blaue Engel), before later changing into something a little more back-stage-dressing-room comfortable.

Unquestionably the vocal star of the night was the authoritative Gurnemanz of Kwangchul Youn. This is one of the richest, most dramatically complete traversals of this lengthy role that I have encountered (and yes, I still have Martti Talvela in my ears, too). Not only can this supremely accomplished baritone ride the orchestra with ease and burnished tone, but I was mightily impressed by his sotto voce singing and his complete, nuanced understanding of what this role is about. A consummate achievement.

Detlef Roth eventually won me over as the belly-aching (sorry) Amfortas. Although I first found his instrument a might on the small side, he was wholly vindicated with a warmly sung, heart-breaking “Mein Vater.” Diógenes Randes did all Wagner could have wanted as Titurel. Only Thomas Jesatko seemed curiously out of voice, or occasionally over-parted as a trans-gendered, fishnet-stockinged, Sally-Bowles-on-acid Klingsor (great legs, though, Dió).

The Festspiel choral work is rightly celebrated and the reason for the shouting is attributable to chorus master Eberhard Friedrich. The expansive, rolling sounds from the male chorus in the ritual scenes were matched by the superb ensemble work from the women’s Chor and Flower maidens in the second act. Breathtaking!

But perhaps the night rightly belonged to conductor Daniele Gatti who led a luminous reading of Wagner’s sprawling and (to me) repetitive “Buehnenfestpeiele.” The sounds from the pit positively glowed, and the sense of tension and forward momentum never flagged. Mr. Gatti pulled off the difficult trick of honoring the piece’s spiritual aspirations without ever falling prey to its pretensions. We are, after all, in the theatre, not at a religious ceremony. And our conductor ensured that dramatic propulsion and musical clarity were always the guiding force.

It is difficult to do justice to the many details and inventions of the physical production. So many characters and images overlap (Kundry/Herzeleide, Amfortas/Parsifal/Young Man, Klingsor/Young Man, etc.). What, or who, is the Grail? And yes, there are moments and even whole segments that could bear further refining.

But as it is, improbable as it may seem — ya hadda be there — Stefan Herheim’s multi-layered production of Parsifal is already a notable success. With further work, and some slightly re-imagined casting, I believe it could become a true Bayreuth legend.

James Sohre

image=http://www.operatoday.com/content/parsifalfantin.jpg imagedescription=Parsifal and the Flower Maidens by Henri Fantin-Latour (1893)

product=yes producttitle=Richard Wagner: Parsifal productby=Bayreuther Festspiele

Seattle humanizes Wagner’s Ring

When in his stage directions Wagner said “tree,” scenic designer Thomas Lynch gave him one — or, in the case of Act One of Die Walküre — an entire forest of entangled trunks and branches. And director Stephen Wadsworth seemed content to tell the story as straightforwardly as possible. This was clearly not a concept Ring rooted in the writings of Marx or Freud and it made no attempt to come to terms with Germany’s tormented past — and Wagner’s involvement in it.

Greer Grimsley (Wotan) and Stephanie Blythe (Fricka). © Rozarii Lynch photo

On the heels of the second SO Ring, completed in 1986 and on stage for the next decade, it disappointed many. For in that earlier production Swiss director François Rochaix and designer Robert Israel offered a post-modern “take” on the cycle, focused visually on the machinery with which Wagner had sought to make the Ring live.

However, with the revival of the Wadsworth Ring this summer, the production has grown and matured, and this largely because the director, a seasoned veteran of the spoken theater, has remained with it and taken advantage of its return to the stage of the Marion Oliver McCaw Hall to reveal his own deeper insights into what is no doubt the greatest single operatic achievement of all time.

Wadsworth — to reduce so remarkable an achievement to a single word — has humanized the Ring, continuing and perfecting the process that began with the first post-war Bayreuth Ring directed by Wieland Wagner in 1952. At that time the composer’s grandson “sanitized” the mammoth work, stripping it of the swords, spears and winged helmets that had helped — with willing participation of his family — to make Wagner the court composer of National Socialism. Wieland Wagner acted out of necessity, knowing that only a non-political Ring would be acceptable to a world still up to its ankles in the ruins of World War Two. And now Wadsworth capitalizes on the experiences of the half century since that revolutionary Ring to bring to the surface in it the universal humanity of a story, in which the participants are only outwardly super-human gods and giants. The result is a Ring in which the audience is totally absorbed by the intimacy of the story as Wadsworth leads them through it.

Front: Greer Grimsley (Wotan) and Dennis Petersen (Mime); Back: Kobie van Rensburg (Loge) and Richard Paul Fink (Alberich); and the Nibelungs. © Rozarii Lynch photo

Happily, Seattle Opera, celebrating a quarter century under the erudite leadership of Speight Jenkins, has provided the director with everything needed to make the staging as moving as it is monumental. Seattle’s choice of Janice Baird as the season’s Brünnhilde had been the most heavily hyped opera news of the summer. Billed by Opera News as the new Wagnerian “it girl,” the American soprano had the audience understandably eager to hear what she could do. And the war cry with which Baird made her entrance in Act Two of Walküre on August 10 was indeed impressive. In sheer force, however, she was no match for Jane Eaglen, Brünnhilde in Seattle from 2000 through 2005, nor — for those old enough to remember her — for Linda Kelm, Seattle’s major singer in the role in the ‘80s. When, however, Baird dug into the drama in her first exchange with Wotan her total command of the role and its dramatic power were overwhelming.

She is an intelligent singer who knows this work thoroughly from European productions and she responded magnificently to Wadsworth’s direction. That, for example, she came down from her rock to tell Siegmund that he would die was a fine touch. Kneeling with her half-brother at the side of the sleeping Sieglinde, their duet became almost a trio. It was, of course, as the woman betrayed that Baird revealed the full extent of her powers in Götterdämmerung. She sang the concluding immolation with a searing sense of transcendent tragedy. And that she is a beautiful person of regal bearing made her an ideal figure for Wadsworth’s approach to the Ring.

She had an equal both in vocal and acting ability in Greer Grimsley as the Wotan of the summer. Tall and handsome, Grimsley delivered a finely nuanced portrayal of the errant god.

One of the most glorious moments of the cycle, however, was Stephanie Blythe’s warning monologue to Brünnhilde in “Götterdämmerung.” Now a major Wagernian, the American mezzo elevated this to the dramatic level of Wotan’s farewell and of Brünnhilde’s final immolation. And as the Fricka of the summer Blythe played a woman still hesitant to admit the waning of a once-great passion.

Stuart Skelton (Siegmund), Margaret Jane Wray (Sieglinde), and Janice Baird (Brünnhilde). © Chris Bennion photo

Sieglinde has long been a signature role for Margaret Jane Wray, whose voice has darkened beautifully in recent years. She also sang the Third Norn in Götterdämmerung.

Over half the cast of the ’09 Ring was new to the Seattle staging, to which Australia’s Stewart Skelton and Denmark’s Stig Andersen made stellar contributions. Skelton displayed the most refined command of German diction in the cast, while Andersen was an enviably youthful Siegfried who matured markedly through the two Ring operas in which he appears.

Richard Paul Fink remains the world’s ruling Alberich, while Dennis Petersen played a remarkably masculine Mime, eschewing the elements of parody that cause many to see this figure as an expression of Wagner’s anti-Semitism.

South Africa’s Kobie von Rensburg was a witty and wily Loge, while Andrea Silvestrelli and Daniel Sumegi were well-matched giants Fasolt and Fafner.

In Walküre Silvestrelli was an especially loathsome Hunding, while Sumegi as Hagen offered a profound essay in the darkness of the human heart.

Conductor Robert Spano is now a well-seasoned Wagnerian, who understands the necessity of letting the composer have his way, allowing the music to unfold by its own inner — and organic — rules. The enlarged orchestra — drawn largely from the Seattle Symphony — played stunningly.

Richard Paul Fink (Alberich) and Dennis Petersen (Mime). © Chris Bennion photo

Among the many magic moments were the brief but breathless pause that Spano and Grimsley inserted between the crucially visionary “das Ende” and the repeat of the words, sung here not with Hans Hotter’s long-traditional Sprechstimme, but rather with melancholy lyricism. And Spano’s elucidation of the shadings of sexual development that color the Awakening Scene at the end of Siegfried made the work of other conductors with this incredibly complex section of the drama seem at best Biology 101.

About some things Wagner allowed Wadsworth no choice. The eight Walküre whooped it up as they are wont to do, but no glorification of heroic death. And against Siegfried’s re-forging of the sword Nothung even Wadsworth was helpless. (Someone once suggested replacing this bit of banality with help from Gershwin: “I got plenty of Nothung, and Nothung’s plenty for me!”) And the excess of huggie-kissie throughout the cycle fell into the category of human, all-too human.

: Gordon Hawkins (Gunther), Janice Baird (Brünnhilde), Stig Andersen (Siegfried), and Marie Plette (Gutrune), with supernumeraries and members of the Seattle Opera chorus. © Rozarii Lynch photo

The designs and costumes by Lynch and Martin Pakledinaz seems to have grown richer in color and beauty — due perhaps to increasingly sophisticated lighting by Peter Kaczorowski. This is clearly the current forerunner among American Rings, and one looks forward to its return for a final run in 2013.

Wes Blomster

image=http://www.operatoday.com/Baird_Brunnhilde_Seattle.gif image_description=Janice Baird (Brünnhilde). © Rozarii Lynch photo product=yes product_title=Seattle humanizes Wagner’s Ring product_by= product_id=Above: Janice Baird (Brünnhilde) © Rozarii Lynch photo

The Dream of Gerontius: Grant Park Music Festival, Chicago

In the performance seen on 1 August 2009 John MacMaster sang the role of Gerontius, the Priest and Angel of the Agony were performed by bass Paul Whelan, and the Angel was sung by mezzo-soprano Allyson McHardy. The significant parts representing the Assistants in Part I as well as the Demons, Angelicals, and Souls in Part II were performed by the Grant Park Chorus as led by its director Christopher Bell.

Elgar’s composition, based on a text by Cardinal John Henry Newman, depicts the final hours of the life of Gerontius, his dream and vision of heaven, and finally his death, judgement, and passage into the company of souls in Purgatory. Elgar’s libretto reflects the original poem by Cardinal Newman, a number of verses having been deleted but none of the remaining text showing any substantive changes. The orchestral prelude was played by the Grant Park Orchestra with careful attention to succeeding moods unfolding during its development. After the opening predominance of the lower strings, an alternate melodic structure was introduced with the harp providing lightness or the suggestion of upward movement. In the next wave of moods the brass section was joined by a dramatic increase in percussion, suggesting the momentous end of life but with strains of the previous, lighter melody still evident as a counterbalance. After such a point of synthesis at the close of the prelude Gerontius begins to perform a monologue of his realization that death is near. In this role Mr. MacMaster invested the text with alternating shades of pathos, fervor, and dramatic intensity as he pleaded for divine support at the time of life’s passing. In response to an appeal to his mortal friends, the Assistants modulated their initial choral participation to sound, alternately, more importunate to God or more directly supportive of Gerontius. The Latin prayers [Sanctus fortis; Miserere, Judex meus, etc.] which now served to preface the petitions of Gerontius were sung by MacMaster with a heroic dignity as the orchestra swelled in accompaniment to match the rising intensity of Elgar’s score. When the tenor sings of a “fierce and restless fight” within his soul, Kalmar enhanced the orchestral tempos skillfully in order to underscore the mood of a battle. At this point the choral Assistants further enumerated famous Biblical battles as a means to “Rescue this Thy servant.” As if in response to this encouragement, in the final segment of the first part of the Oratorio, the Priest sung by bass Paul Whelan gave imperatives to the soul of Gerontius in his march toward judgement. As the supportive voice at the time of death Whelan gave memorable, lyrical force to his part, infusing a fine sense of legato into his extended lines shared with the chorus of Assistants. He intoned the “Name of God” with a declarative and steady, high pitch, so that the Soul was now prepared — given this vocally impressive, additional support — to face its maker with renewed courage.

In the second, longer part of the Oratorio the Soul of Gerontius, now departed from life, sings much of his role in dialogue with the Angel. The Soul seems to awaken from sleep and feels “an inexpressive lightness,” a noticeable transition marking his death and passing into the afterlife. MacMaster sings this introductory segment with clear anticipation, as he states that a voice of distinctive melodic character can be heard nearby. The Angel begins now her responses, at once leading and instructive, as the Soul questions its further path to judgement. Allyson McHardy’s assumption of the role of the Angel was nothing short of a vocal revelation. The mezzo-soprano’s range, secure in all registers, is a decided asset in this role, which requires a number of emotional transitions at differing vocal levels. McHardy began her statements with liquid tones in which her accompanying words to the Soul establish a sense of trust or reliance on the ethereal figure. When asked why the impending judgment did not instill a sense of fear, the Angel replies that “thou didst fear” while alive, thus alleviating a sense of present dread. Yet in response to the Soul’s question on the source of the “fierce hubbub,” the Angel reminds of their proximity to the court of judgement. The tumult of voices heard represents the demons who assemble to collect those souls fallen prey by their previous sinfulness. As McHardy elaborated on this habitual behavior, her voice ascended to dramatic high notes of confident intensity characterizing the diabolicals, as they “claim their property.” A similar dramatic communication returned as McHardy assured the Soul of a fleeting view of the Lord at the moment of judgement and, even more, as she accompanied the Soul across the threshold to the Choir of Angelicals. At the very moment when the Angel announces that the judgement will begin, the Angel of the Agony enters to intone a litany of prayers as an intercession. As sung by Whelan with exemplary attention to diction, the pathos of the moment was brought to even greater focus. The final praises and “Alleluia” sung by the Angel, as well as her words of “Farewell” to the Soul of Gerontius were given a special poignancy in McHardy’s closing piano notes. The ultimate “Amen” as a welcome to the Soul by the Angelicals was sounded on a sublime note of peace by the Grant Park Chorus.

Salvatore Calomino

image=http://www.operatoday.com/Elgar-Edward.gif image_description=Sir Edward Elgar

product=yes producttitle=Sir Edward Elgar: The Dream of Gerontius productby=Alysson McHardy, mezzo soprano, John Mac Master, tenor, Paul Whelan, bass-baritone, Grant Park Orchestra and Chorus, Carlos Kalmar, conductor. Grant Park Music Festival, Chicago

Musicologist says he has found 'Elise'

[UPI, 5 September 2009]

A German musicologist says he has figured out who was Elise in Beethoven’s “Fur Elise,” one of the most famous dedications in classical music.

Wigmore Hall / Kohn Foundation launches the Sixth International Singing Competition

I talked to John Gilhooly and to Dr Ralph Kohn, whose Foundation underpins the Competition both philosophically and financially, about the challenges and special qualities of this much-anticipated event. Both were very clear about what they are looking for - Dr Kohn selects ‘intimacy of communication with a chamber music audience’ as vital, and he recalls the genesis of the competition in his collaboration with Graham Johnson: ‘Since I’ve always been very keen to support young singers, I was very receptive when Graham suggested that the Wigmore might be the ideal venue for a competition, perhaps one where we seek special qualities not looked for in other events.’

John Gilhooly, as Chairman, leaves no room for doubt - ‘ First of all, I tell the jury from the outset, and I repeat this every day, that we are not looking for the singer with the highest decibel level: what we seek is a singer who can sustain a song recital in any of the great halls of the world, because if we give someone a recital here, then Vienna, New York, Amsterdam, will take notice, so the jury needs to feel - can s/he keep my interest for a whole recital, and not just a small group?’

Both point out that in opera, you have the staging, costume, prompt, colleagues and so on, but in recital you are ‘alone up there, hopefully without the music stand’ - and this is where the Wigmore audience comes in. Dr Kohn identifies this as one of the competition’s unique features - ‘You are performing before people who have the most profound understanding of the music, who have been coming here for years and who feel a great sense of loyalty to the Hall and the competition itself; they also want you to do well - it’s a very sympathetic and enabling audience.’

Gilhooly dismisses the notion of the Wigmore audience as ‘elderly’ as ‘a myth’ - ‘our regular audience has gone from a core of 5000 to a core of 25,000; for many concerts we have found that 50% of the audience has been under 40, and even so, I believe that the holy grail of the ‘young’ audience is all very well, but you have to account for time and what people can fit in: I’m 36 and many of my friends have long days in the city or are doctors and so on, and so to fit in a 7.30 recital is not easy. When people get into their 50s and their children have gone off to University and so on, we find that it’s then they have time to attend more concerts.’

Although the competition looks for future greatness, Dr Kohn points out that ‘winning is not everything in this context - it’s also being given feedback from some of the greatest singers and accompanists, about meeting with colleagues’ and Gilhooly concurs ‘If we don’t find the next great recitalist, it’s not a failure - young singers have been given a chance to perform before their peers, and it also enshrines the notion of the Wigmore as the world centre for song.’ He points out that there have been previous years in which those who did not win have also gone on to great things - Joyce di Donato being a prime example - and that such seemingly minor aspects as the preparation of programmes can be hugely influential.

Martha Guth with Ralph Kohn and Spencer Myer at the 2007 competition final [Photo by Ben Ealovega]

The competition does not ignore those whose prowess may tend more towards opera, since after the judging for the main competition is over, the jury is able to award a special bursary given by Independent Opera, which specifically rewards a singer who shows operatic potential - the most recent winner of this was Matthew Rose, a baritone surely now familiar from appearances on many stages.

The Wigmore Hall begins the 2009-10 season with the confidence that last year’s attendance was up 30% on the previous, with many concerts already sold out well in advance. They are already gearing up for the 110th anniversary in 2011, about which John Gilhooly is saying nothing yet except that it will be ‘very special’ and we should ‘expect many surprises.’ Those of us fortunate enough to be regulars at this unique venue know that it always holds the most wonderful surprises, some of which will no doubt be unveiled during the Singing Competition: if you’d like to attend the preliminary rounds, they are on September 6th and 7th at 11.00 am and 15.00 pm, the Semi-Final is on Tuesday 8th at 15.00, and the Final and Prize Giving on Thursday 10th at 18.00.

Melanie Eskenazi

image=http://www.operatoday.com/WigmoreHall.gif imagedescription=Wigmore Hall

product=yes producttitle=Wigmore Hall / Kohn Foundation launches the Sixth International Singing Competition productby= product_id=Above: Wigmore Hall