March 30, 2014
Five Young Singers Named Winners in the Final Round of the 2014 Met National Council Auditions
The Metropolitan Opera [30 March 2014]
After a months-long series of competitions at the district, regional, and national levels, a panel of judges has named five young singers the winners of the 2014 National Council Auditions, the nation’s most prestigious vocal competition. Each winner, who performed two arias onstage at the Metropolitan Opera this afternoon with conductor Marco Armiliato and the Met’s orchestra, will receive a $15,000 cash prize and the prestige and exposure that come with winning a competition that has launched the careers of many of opera’s biggest stars.
ROH presents Cavalli’s L’Ormindo at the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse, London
Hurrah for the Royal Opera’s latest and most innovative Baroque production. Inside this gorgeous gem of a theatre, the Shakespeare’s Globe’s new indoor space known as the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse, Kasper Holten and his team have created a mini masterpiece of baroque performance with Cavalli’s L’Ormindo.
Aided and abetted by a superb team of young singers and Christian Curnyn’s top-of-the range period musicians Holten has given us — some might say at last — hope for the future. Now Londoners have a truly special place within which to enjoy baroque opera and period theatre which does not intimidate with either size or brutal modern architecture. Seating just 340, and open since the beginning of the year, the Playhouse, snuggled alongside its famous larger sister the Globe, has been described as “an archetype, rather than a replica, of a specific Jacobean indoor theatre”. Inside, lit only with beeswax candles, the audience is immediately immersed in the drama seated as many are within yards of the performers, others just a little higher in the galleries surrounding the proscenium-less stage. With Cavalli’s little known L’Ormindo (last seen in London in 1967) which opened on Friday night to a packed house, the Playhouse has announced its arrival on the baroque opera scene with a flourish of shameless extravagance, saucy wit and sublime musicianship.
Ed Lyon as Amidas and Susanna Hurrell as Erisbe
Cavalli’s work may be little known today — his La Calisto being perhaps most frequently performed — but this near-contemporary of Monteverdi was highly successful in his day and a master of his craft. He had to be: no composer working for either aristocratic patron or the new breed of fickle theatre owner at that time could get away with second best. From palace drawing room to the streets inside weeks was not uncommon. His work may have gone out of fashion for a few hundred years but perhaps its felicitous mix of eroticism, money, fame and fortune now rings a topical bell? With L’Ormindo we have the usual baroque pot of swirling royal love affairs, spurned fiancées, cross-dressed nurses, bawdy comedy, magical allegorical figures, and lower-class confidants who use the audience as sounding boards for their musings on the baser problems of life and love. What we also got however was real international-standard production values: fabulous costumes by Anja Vang Kragh (whose Dior/McCartney pedigree is easy to appreciate), a raft of some of the best young singers available today, clever stage direction which used the unique size and shape of the space to best advantage, a marvellously witty English translation by Christopher Cowell and an 8 piece band of seasoned period performance experts (the continuo group, led by Curnyn, of harpsichord, baroque harp and theorbo deserve special mention).
Rachel Kelly as Mirinda
The nine singers, some taking two roles, were without exception terrific. Rehearsals must have been sufficient as they moved gracefully and expertly around the ever-present hazard of the real candle flames at both head and foot height (this writer not being alone in holding their breath from time to time as huge dresses, swirling capes and feathers came within millimetres of conflagration). But it was the excellence and intelligence of their singing and acting which supported the whole edifice around them; seldom does one get the chance to enjoy an opera where one can honestly say there was no weak link. Each deserves detailed praise and description, but suffice to say that if forced to choose just two, the names of Sam Boden (high tenor) as Ormindo, and Rachel Kelly (mezzo soprano) as Mirinda might just be them. Boden displayed a beautiful limpid tone and line totally in keeping with his character and Kelly a warm yet lively mezzo with which she also managed crisp diction — an important facet of performance in English with no surtitles. Of the smaller roles, mention must be made of James Laing (countertenor) as the page Nerillus/Cupid for both his elegant even tone and apparent insouciance as he hung suspended in pink and gold tutu from the flies. Such gentle guying of baroque opera’s traditions was part of the humour inherent in this production.
It seems that Kasper Holten in his relatively new position of Director of Opera at Covent Garden has at last turned the tide and found imaginative ways to support the continued flourishing of “old” opera. By working with innovative partners such as the Globe and Curnyn’s Early Opera group, he has done what many before him failed to do: spark new life into old magic. Long may we enjoy the fruits of his labours.
Sue Loder
The ROH/Shakespeare’s Globe production of Cavalli’s L’Ormindo continues on 28th, 29th March and 1 st, 2nd, 4th, 5th, 8th, 9th, 11th and 12th April at 7.30pm. Returns only at time of writing. BBC Radio 3 will broadcast the opera on the 5th April at 7.30pm.
image=http://www.operatoday.com/ORMINDO%20SC1_7580.png image_description=Samuel Boden as Ormindo [Photo by Stephen Cummiskey] product=yes product_title=ROH presents Cavalli’s L’Ormindo at the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse, London product_by=A review by Sue Loder product_id=Above: Samuel Boden as OrmindoPhotos © Stephen Cummiskey
March 27, 2014
Harrison Birtwistle, Elliott Carter, Wigmore Hall, London
So it was that Birtwistle bookended the evening. The first piece was his Fantasia upon all the notes (2012), commissioned by the present ensemble and premiered at the Wigmore Hall in March 2012. Scored for flute, clarinet, harp (the sound of the harp, although not omnipresent, was a Theseus-thread through the evening) and string quartet, the score breathed out a lyric expansiveness, its long lines fully honoured here and leading to a frenetic climax before the piece effectively disintegrated. The basis for the composition (“all the notes”) is the shifting scales of the harp, dependent on the pedals used. In this way, the harp, by no means soloistic, subtly guides the harmonic language of the piece. It was a fine example of the composer's subtle practices, and was beautifully and sensitively delivered here by members of the Nash Ensemble.
Carter and Birtwistle are of course linked by age as well as the complexities of their music (although the manifestations of those complexities are, of course, very different). There were two Carter pieces in the first half: Enchanted Preludes of 1988 and Esprit Rude/Esprit Doux of some 22 years previous. The first, Enchanted Preludes, is scored for flute and cello, here played by Philippa Davies and Adrian Brendel, respectively. It was a virtuoso performance of a sophisticated piece. Both players demonstrated superb control of their instruments in a piece that demonstrates, concisely, Carter's strengths of a consistent harmonic language and a superb ear for detail. If Esprit Rude/Esprit Doux for flute and clarinet (Davies again, this time with Richard Hosford on clarinet) was not quite as fine a piece, not as sure of itself, it nevertheless evinced a great sense of dialogue.
The Adams was the odd man out. Somehow Shaker Loops, in its chamber version for seven strings, felt rather roughly 'inserted' in deference to the American side of the concert series. It was a fabulous performance: perfectly graduated crescendi and a real sense of determination. But the piece felt over-long and frankly bloated, and was firmly compositionally outgunned by its companion pieces.
Elliott Carter's Mosaic of 2004 (for flute, oboe, clarinet, harp, string trio and double-bass) began the second half. The harp part is virtuosic but in the pre-concert talk Birtwistle had contrasted Carter's treatment of the instrument to his own: Carter does not let the instrument resonate (and therefore, by implication, be true to its own nature). The complex pedal work is impressive indeed as a performance act and one does have to wonder if this aspect is part of the piece's basis, just as the viola is asked to be contra-itself and be very forceful; very un-viola-like perhaps. It is an interesting piece, certainly, but it was overshadowed to no small extent by the piece that most people had surely come to hear, Birtwistle's recent The Moth Requiem (2012).
The BBC Singers were on absolute top form for the demands of this work, which sets a number of Latin names of butterflies interspersed into the poem “A Literalist” by Robin Blaser from his larger work The Moth Poem. The poem concerns a moth trapped in the body of a piano and which could be heard in contact with the strings. It is a lovely idea, and masterfully realised. The scoring is for 12 singers, 3 harps and alto flute. In fact Birtwistle uses the three harps as one “meta-instrument”, as he explained in his characteristically dry-witted pre-performance event. Birtwistle's years of experience enabled him to weave an intoxicating sonic tapestry. The fragmenting of texture and musical material in the work's final stages is impeccably timed. This is nothing short of a masterpiece.
Running through the concert was the sure direction of Nicholas Kok, whose clarity as a conductor was a model of its kind. A remarkable evening.
Colin Clarke
image=http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/5/5d/Harrison_Birtwistle.jpg/256px-Harrison_Birtwistle.jpg
image_description=Harrison Birtwistle
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product_title= Harrison Birtwistle :Fantasia upon all the notes (2012). The Moth Requiem (2012), Elliott Carter :Enchanted Preludes (1988). Esprit Rude/Esprit Doux (1964). Mosaic (2004), John Adams : Shaker Loops. The Nash Ensemble; BBC Singers, Nicholas Kok
Wigmore Hall, 26th March 2014
product_by=A review by Colin Clarke
product_id=Above: Harrison Birtwistle by MITO Settembre Musica (Wikicommons Images)
Requiem for a Lost Opera Company
After Gioachino Rossini's death in 1868, Giuseppe Verdi suggested that a group of then-famous Italian composers collaborate on a requiem in Rossini's honor to be played on the first anniversary of his death. Verdi wrote the final Libera me and was frustrated when the work was not performed. Six years later, he put his composition to use in a Mass that honored another man whom he greatly admired, Italian poet and novelist Alessandro Manzoni. The first performance of the Manzoni Requiem took place at the church of St. Mark in Milan on May 22, 1874, the first anniversary of the writer’s death. The piece lends itself much more to the concert stage than to the church, however, and it is most often played in theaters and opera houses.
On Wednesday, March 19, 2014, General Director Ian Campbell of San Diego Opera announced that the company would go out of business at the end of this season. The next day the company performed their long-planned Verdi Requiem with a stellar cast including soprano Krassimira Stoyanova, mezzo-soprano Stephanie Blythe, tenor Piotr Beczala, and bass Ferruccio Furlanetto. They and the San Diego Master Chorale combined with the San Diego Opera chorus sang to the accompaniment of the San Diego Symphony conducted by Massimo Zanetti. The seats went on sale in the fall and by Christmas the house was completely sold out. However, on the day of the performance the mood was funereal.
Opening with muted cello sounds, the beginning of the Mass indicated the sorrowful mood of both musicians and audience. Maestro Zanetti had a tremendous range of dynamics and the following Dies Irae came in with thunderous drum beats. Blythe sang of judgment with a tapestry of tonal color and was joined by Beczala and Stoyanova in the description of the disparity between the power of God and the human condition. Beczala’s Ingemisco was a thing of great lyrical beauty that became one or the crown jewels of this performance. Furlanetto sang of the damned being consigned to the flames of Hell and Stoyanova sang the Libera Me with a radiance that transcended the darkness of the surrounding aura. Eventually, the chorus returned to the day of wrath and of tears, which this certainly was for its members. Perhaps it was their outrage at being dismissed with little regard for their devotion to the company that made the orchestra and chorus sing and play with every fibre of their bodies. Together with the internationally known soloists, they made this a Verdi Requiem never to be forgotten by anyone who was in the Civic Theater that night.
Maria Nockin
Cast:
Soprano, Krassimira Stoyanova; Mezzo-soprano, Stephanie Blythe; Tenor, Piotr Beczala; Bass, Ferruccio Furlanetto; Conductor, Massimo Zanetti.
image=http://www.operatoday.com/Manzoni.gif
image_description=Portrait of Alessandro Manzoni by Francesco Hayez [Source: Wikipedia]
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product_title= Requiem for a Lost Opera Company
product_by=A review by Maria Nockin
product_id=Above: Portrait of Alessandro Manzoni by Francesco Hayez [Source: Wikipedia]
March 21, 2014
The Met’s Werther a tasty mix of singing, staging, acting and orchestral splendor
Massenet’s Werther is a soufflé. If all the ingredients — sets, direction, singing, conducting — are perfectly blended, it will stand up just fine. But if anything is amiss, it will collapse.
Fortunately all the ingredients were tastily in place in the Met’s new production that featured the overdue house debut of mezzo Sophie Koch as Charlotte and tenor-du-jour Jonas Kaufmann as Werther, all blended by British director Richard Eyre and conductor Alain Altinoglu.
Based on Goethe’s 1774 novel The Sorrows of Young Werther, this is, at heart, a two-character opera. The melancholy (or simply depressed) poet Werther is besotted by the virtuous Charlotte, who is betrothed to the dull Albert. Charlotte is quietly passionate about Werther, but she won’t yield to him or to her own desires because she promised her dying mother she would marry Albert.
Despairing, Werther leaves her, then returns on Christmas Eve, is rejected (after a single passionate kiss), borrows Albert’s pistols, retreats to his garret, and commits suicide. The distraught Charlotte runs to the garret, arrives too late to save him and, in this production, contemplates using the pistol on herself as the stage lights dim.
Excerpt from Werther's aria from Act I of Massenet’s opera. Jonas Kaufmann (Werther). Production: Richard Eyre. Conductor: Alain Altinoglu. 2013-14 season. Video courtesy of the Metropolitan OperaAll the important action is between these two. Charlotte’s teenage sister Sophie flits in and out of the opera exhibiting her own crush on Werther and adding some light-hearted relief. Charlotte’s father, siblings, husband and some townspeople make appearances, but they provide little more than dramatic and musical padding.
It is hard to imagine two performers more persuasive in these roles than Koch and Kaufmann. Eyre has directed them to accentuate their differences. She is cool, distant, and manipulative. He is manic, ardent, and menacing. She is costumed elegantly in late 19th century fashions. He is, at first, quite proper in a floor-length dark formal coat with a white waistcoat, tie or scarf. But as his mental state deteriorates, so does the outfit.
Eyre has provided a wealth of directorial touches to keep this melodrama afloat. Although only married to Albert for three months, Charlotte, in her body language, makes it clear that the relationship is joyless for her. She sits rigidly near him on a bench, just far enough to signal her emotional distance. Sophie exhibits her attraction to Werther by rubbing up against him on that same bench, only to see Werther jump away as if stuck by a hatpin. When Werther shoots himself, great globs of blood not only cover his white blouse, but also splatter the wall behind him and stain the bed coverings.
Excerpt from Werther's aria from Act III of Massenet's opera. Jonas Kaufmann (Werther), Sophie Koch (Charlotte). Production: Richard Eyre. Conductor: Alain Altinoglu. 2013-14 season. Video courtesy of the Metropolitan OperaSpecial praise goes to Video Designer Wendall K. Harrington for projections that were constantly imaginative. Flocks of ravens roosted in trees when Charlotte’s mother was buried in a pantomime during the overture. The snow at the winter burial scene visually melted into a verdant spring filled with images of leafy trees. When Charlotte and Werther were dancing at a ball between Acts One and Two (which is when they fall in love), projections created the illusion they were whirling around the dance floor. Charlotte ran through a video of city streets and a snowstorm to reach Werther’s garret.
Equally impressive were the set designs of Rob Howell. Act One opens outside Charlotte’s house in a lush, pastoral setting complete with little walking bridges and gentle hills. Act Two is a quaint town square with benches and a shaded table. Act Three is a dramatic library and music room in Albert’s house, where Charlotte reads Werther’s crazed love letters, and where he confronts her and threatens suicide. Act Four, Werther’s garret, first appears at the back of the Act Three set as a distant box within the stage picture. Imperceptibly the garret moves forward and replaces the Act Three set, concentrating the audience’s attention on his suicide in this small space, which is now at the center of the stage.
These visual elements are essential to the audience’s appreciation of this opera because Massenet is no tunesmith. Just when the action begs for a melody from an Offenbach or Gounod, Massenet fails to deliver. Yes, there are some celebrated arias — Werther’s Invocation to nature in Act One, his Lied to Ossian in Act Three, Charlotte’s letter scene in Act Three — but even these, to my ears, lack a distinctive melodic profile.
Excerpt from Charlotte's aria from Act III of Massenet's "Werther." Sophie Koch (Charlotte), Lisette Oropesa (Sophie). Production: Richard Eyre. Conductor: Alain Altinoglu. Video courtesy of the Metropolitan OperaAs critic and musicologist Rodney Milnes writes in The New Grove, Werther is a “through composed conversation piece.” Massenet is a colorist with the ability to match any mood or action in the orchestral writing. He provides a river of perfumed music that is always beguiling but hard to remember. His writing for woodwinds is magical. The overall tint of the orchestral writing is dark, as befits the subject. It’s masterful in its way, but faceless.
Without choruses or familiar arias, the opera will only work if the audience is totally invested in the fates of the two main characters — and this the Met production achieved.
Koch and Kaufmann have sung these roles in major houses all over the world. The music is clearly in their bones, and throats.
In this run of performances, Koch joined the group of golden age mezzos currently at the Met: Joyce DiDonato, Susan Graham, Stephanie Blythe and others. She has a voice that easily carries throughout the large auditorium. She is always on pitch. The sound is pleasing in all its registers. She demonstrated enormous volume in her farewell cry to her sister in Act Three, and tenderness in ministering to her younger siblings in Act One. She was thoroughly convincing in the Act Three letter scene as she re-reads Werther’s desperate pleas and realizes he has settled on suicide. Emotionally she held herself in reserve (no doubt at Eyre’s urging) until she cradled the dying Werther in Act Four. She is a tall and handsome woman who acts in a modern style. No diva antics for her. She is more an Eboli than a Carmen in temperament. Her voice may lack the sort of immediately identifiable characteristics of the stentorian Blythe, but Koch is a true artist nonetheless.
At first I thought Kaufmann was too much the heldentenor for the tormented poet, more a Tannhäuser than Werther. But the Met’s program note makes clear that the role was created in 1892 by Ernest Van Dyck, who also sang Lohengrin and Parsifal. So Kaufmann’s often ringing and aggressive tone must have been what Massenet wanted. Kaufmann has a well-controlled head voice to complement his golden top notes. At times I thought I was listening to a voice that would be more congenial as Samson (in the Saint-Saëns opera) but it worked, particularly in his lengthy demise in Act Four.
(According to both The New York Times and my friends in Syracuse, New York and Portland, Maine who were watching the live HD relay in movie theaters, the audio cut out for seven minutes of Werther’s death scene, causing much annoyance and yielding refunds. The Met blamed satellite problems.)
Baritone David Bizic was convincing as both a hearty Albert and then an aggrieved Albert, once he suspects his wife still loves Werther. He managed the transition from one to the other in just a few notes with a hardening of his voice as he willingly gave his pistols to Werther.
Soprano Lisette Oropesa was a sparkling Sophie, at her best when trying to cheer up her sister with an aria about birds. Jonathan Summers was a bit underpowered as Charlotte’s widowed father.
Conductor Alain Altinoglu seems to be a natural Massenet conductor. He kept the perfumed waters rolling, building tension along the way, relaxing where possible, and delivering an emotional conclusion. The Met Orchestra responded well to his leadership. He should have a bright future in the house.
This was the last performance of the season for Werther. Surely the Met will bring it back, and I urge you to see it, even if Kaufmann and Koch do not repeat their roles. Eyre’s overall conception, Harrington’s projections, and the Met Orchestra’s playing are worth the hefty price of admission.
David Rubin
CNY Café Momus
This review first appeared at CNY Café Momus.. It is reprinted with the permission of the author
image=http://www.operatoday.com/wertpd_3097a.png image_description=Jonas Kaufmann as the title character and Sophie Koch as Charlotte [Photo by Ken Howard/Metropolitan Opera] product=yes product_title=The Met’s Werther a tasty mix of singing, staging, acting and orchestral splendor product_by=A review by David Rubin product_id=Above: Jonas Kaufmann as the title character and Sophie Koch as Charlotte [Photo by Ken Howard/Metropolitan Opera]March 20, 2014
San Diego Opera Will Shut its Doors
By Maria Nockin [Opera Today, 20 March 2014]
After forty-nine years of delivering fine performances, usually with outstanding casts, San Diego Opera will shut down permanently on June 30, 2014. The population of the city has changed markedly and the opera has had increasingly greater difficulty attracting donations. As with most opera companies, ticket sales for the company’s performances could only cover half the cost of its productions.
The rest of the money had to be made up by donations and they simply were not forthcoming. The opera’s board of directors, many of them large donors, voted thirty-three to one in favor of discontinuing operations. We can only hope that eventually another company will bring opera to San Diegans.
March 19, 2014
Chicago’s New Barber of Seville
Happily, Lyric Opera of Chicago’s delightful new Barber fulfills both vocal and technical expectations with a bright and lively conception. Figaro is sung by Nathan Gunn, Isabel Leonard makes her house debut as Rosina, and Alek Shrader performs Count Almaviva, a role for which he is justly celebrated on operatic stages throughout the United States and Europe. Further artists featured in this notable cast include Alessandro Corbelli as Dr. Bartolo, the guardian of Rosina, Kyle Ketelsen as Don Basilio the music master, and Tracy Cantin as the maid Berta; Will Liverman sings Fiorello and John Irvin performs the part of the sergeant. Michele Mariotti makes his Chicago conducting debut leading these performances. Director of this new production is Rob Ashford, with sets and costumes by Scott Pask and Catherine Zuber respectively. Michael Black prepared the Lyric Opera Chorus.
During the overture to the opera a scrim covers the stage with sketches of three coifed heads representing the Count, Rosina, and presumably the resourceful and ever-present Barber. Mr. Mariotti had the overture played with a light touch so that the strings were a subtle lead to the other forces in the orchestra. One could also hear clearly the plucking of individual string chords at appropriate moments, just as levels of volume rose and sank in anticipation of modulations in forthcoming scenes of the opera. During the second part of the overture repeats were played with variations and justified emphases. As the first scene of the opera begins, the chorus of musicians moves from one side of Dr. Bartolo’s house to the other, their team-like comical gestures matching the swell of the music in this production. While their leader Fiorello has tried to rally both discipline and quiet the Count clutches at the wall of the building in which his beloved Rosina lives under the tutelage of Bartolo. Mr. Shrader’s Almaviva repeats the calls for quiet with a truly soft emphasis on “Piano!” His movements and facial expressions indicate an anticipation scarcely kept in check. In Almaviva’s song at daybreak performed beneath Rosina’s balcony, “Ecco ridente in cielo” [“Look on the smiling sky”], Shrader expresses his ardor with an exuberant trill on “la bella aurora” [“the beautiful dawn”]. The tenor’s range was shown effectively with a full descent at “Sorgi ancora” [“still not arisen”], rising decorations on “vieni bell’ idol mio” [“Come, my treasured one”], and a cry of anguish at “Oh, Dio” to express the futile pain of waiting. As tempos and emotional commitment accelerated Shrader incorporated distinctive and well-chosen embellishments into the second part of his serenade. The tenor draws on a full range of technique and vocal color, just as his acting matched communicative gesture to his chosen vocal expression. As such, Almaviva’s palpable frustration at not knowing whether he has been heard by Rosina is displayed by Shrader in athletic poses and believable grimaces. Although forced to conceal himself at the arrival of the barber Figaro, this Almaviva’s presence is undiminished. Mr. Gunn’s Figaro has the requisite mobility and vocal energy to entertain and to suggest a resourceful fellow for those in need of his help. Gunn’s practiced declamation was equivalent to his character Figaro’s vocal runs in the “Largo al factotum” [“Make way for the factotum”]. At times in this famous aria the vocal projection was subject to an overly enthusiastic orchestral volume. The following interaction between Almaviva and Figaro was staged cleverly and with ample movement proceeding toward the ensuing musical numbers. Rosina appears on the balcony and drops her note to Almaviva; Bartolo warns his charge against suspicious contact and departs on an errand. At this point the Count sings his next serenade and identifies himself falsely as Lindoro, so that he might attract Rosina’s love on his own account and not because of wealth and title [“Si il mio nome saper voi bramate” (“If you wish to know my name”)]. During the first part of Almaviva’s song Shrader’s assured legato and fluid vocal runs prompt the expected encouragement of Rosina from her balcony that he should continue. Almaviva’s excitement at this response included here decorative top notes inserted at “fida e costante” [“faithful and true”] and a further trill toward the close. Only a sudden distraction inside the house prevents the young couple from further communication. Count Almaviva depends on Figaro’s resourceful scheme, that he take on the disguise of a soldier, in order to gain entry to the house and to see Rosina. The duet between Shrader and Gunn concluding this scene is vocally exciting and physically entertaining as they dance together while celebrating the pact.
The second substantial part of Act One features Rosina as a committed participant in any future attempt to meet her “Lindoro.” Ms. Leonard’s “Una voce poco fa” [“A voice I just heard”] is skillfully sung with decorations taken on rising lines, excellent runs, and application of rubato at textually appropriate moments toward the close. The start of her collusion with Figaro is matched now by Dr. Bartolo’s conspiratorial dealings with Basilio. The latter recommends defamation of the Count, whom he identifies as Rosina’s suitor. Mr. Ketelsen’s performance in the role of Basilio is notable for his vocal accomplishments while staying within character in the aria “La calumnia.,” directed toward Count Almaviva. Ketelsen’s physical gestures suggest a doddering teacher yet his voice blooms in enthusiastic might with rich bass notes on “Leggermente” and truly explosive pitches on “colpo di cannone” [“Outbursts from a cannon”]. Accomplished decoration concluded the piece by an artist whom one hopes to hear in additional bel canto roles. Once the doctor and music teacher depart, Rosina and Figaro are able to continue their mutual revelations. In their duet “Dunque io son” [“Then it is I”] both characters reflect on Lindoro’s emotional promise and the need for caution because of Bartolo’s own plans. In this duet Leonard and Gunn sing with even greater invention than earlier as though illustrating their crafty approach with vocal embellishments. When Mr. Corbelli as Bartolo enumerates his suspicions to Rosina, the aria “A un dottor della mia sorte” [“For a doctor of my standing”] is performed as more than a simple character piece. Corbelli truly inhabits the role of Dr. Bartolo, his sense of vocal line and sustained pitches giving emphasis to the fulminating ire expressed in the text. When the housemaid Berta enters to respond to pounding at the door, Ms. Cantin stumbles about with her laundry-basket while uttering believable cries of impatience. Her role as performed in the finale of Act One is crucial as a vocal anchor bringing to a crescendo the disparate arguments and colors. Almaviva is admitted as disguised, his feigned inebriation causing disagreement with Bartolo and relief for Rosina. Just as the household characters and guest are joined by Basilio and Figaro, the resulting ensemble sparkles with full yet disciplined Rossinian frenzy. In response to Shrader’s impressive high pitch on “In arresto? Io?” [“Arrested ? I?”], and his revelation to the official in charge, the police recognize the identity of the drunken soldier and refuse to detain him. All the principals participate in, with Ms. Cantin’s forte notes propelling forward, a commentary on the mental confusion in which they are trapped as the act concludes. (“Mi par d’esser con la testa in un’orrida fucina” [“My head seems to be in a fiery smithy”].
In the house of Bartolo at the start of Act Two the doctor has scarcely recovered from the confusing interruption of the inebriated soldier when Count Almaviva arrives in his second disguise, Don Alonso, professor of music and alleged pupil of Basilio. He purports to take the place of his ill teacher and proceeds with a music lesson for Rosina. Leornard performs the noted aria, “Contro un cor che accende amore” [“Against a heart inflamed with love”] as a clever response to the advances of her eager suitor, while also preserving its opportunities for vocal embellishments as a set piece. At the entrance of a seemingly healthy Basilio, a quick ruse must be invented to dispose of the real music master. When the conspirators attempt to convince Basilio of his dreadful appearance, Mr. Ketelsen asks, “Sono giallo come un morto?” [“I am yellow as a corpse?”] with deep sustained pitches making “un morto” shudderingly possible. Once he has left after a spirited performance of the “Buona sera” ensemble and agreement by Rosina to meet her lover at midnight, Berta is left alone to comment on the unabated frenzy of this household. Cantin’s performance of Berta’s solo “Il vecchiotto cerca moglie” [“The old man seeks a wife”] shows an assured and comic approach including effective chest tones, a superb diminuendo in the repeat, and inventive decorations taken at the close.
The ultimate appearance of Rosina’s “Lindoro” and Figaro at midnight prompts the blissful admission that Lindoro and Almaviva are indeed one and the same individual. Rosina’s relief at not having been deceived in her devotions as well as Almaviva’s boundless joy at winning his suit result in the extended duet in which Leonard and Shrader complement each other delightfully. At one last attempt by Dr. Bartolo to apprehend the presumed scoundrel Almaviva’s proclaimed identity and revelatory aria, “Cessa di più resistere” [“Cease any further resisance”] put an end to such challenging opposition. Mr. Shrader’s ornamentation and sheer vocal facility in this piece are flawless, matched in excitement by the following, more rapid “Ah il più lieto, il più felice” [“The blithest, the happiest”] describing his ardor for the love now granted. Almaviva’s final word “felicità” accentuates the happy spirit which invests this model new production of Rossini’s masterpiece.
Salvatore Calomino
image=http://www.operatoday.com/11_Alek_Shrader_Isabel_Leonard_BARBER_OF_SEVILLE_DR2_2519_cDan_Rest.png image_description=Alek Shrader and Isabel Leonard in Rossini’s “The Barber of Seville” at Lyric Opera. Photo: Dan Rest product=yes product_title=Chicago’s New Barber of Seville product_by=A review by Salvatore Calomino product_id=Above: Alek Shrader and Isabel Leonard in Rossini’s “The Barber of Seville” at Lyric Opera. [Photo by Dan Rest]Lucia in LA: A Performance to Remember
In 1835 Gaetano Donizetti composed his drama tragico Lucia di Lammermoor to a libretto by Salvadore Cammarano. He based upon Sir Walter Scott's 1819 historical novel The Bride of Lammermoor. Scott based his plot on a seventeenth century incident that took place between Janet Dalrymple and her lover, Archibald, the third Lord Rutherfurd. The Dalrymple family, who lived in in the Lammermuir Hills of south-east Scotland, objected to the match because Rutherfurd was poor and supported King Charles II. The Dalrymples, who were staunch Whigs, preferred a constitutional monarchy to absolute rule.
An impassive Janet married her family’s choice, Sir David Dunbar of Baldoon Castle, on August 24, 1669. Not long after the couple retired, screaming was heard from their room. When the family forced the door open, they found David bleeding from stab wounds. Janet was trying to hide in a corner and she had blood on her nightgown. We only know that she appeared to be insane and died two weeks later. Scott had once been in love with a lady who jilted him for a richer man, so his novel may have reflected a personal emotional response.
On March 15, 2014, Los Angeles Opera presented Elkhanah Pulitzer’s production of the opera, which she set in 1885 when women were beginning to be recognized as persons separate from their fathers, brothers and husbands. At that time many European countries were beginning to allow women to own property, obtain higher education, and choose their husbands. An 1882 Swedish law granted women the right to choose their own marriage partners. Women in Scotland could have known what rights might soon be theirs.
Edgardo, Saimir Pirgu, finds that Lucia, Albina Shagimuratova, is marrying Arturo, Vladimir Dmitruk
Carolina Angulo’s scenery for Pulitzer’s production was totally unembellished except for a few neon strips, and it became a background for Duane Schuler’s lighting and Wendall K. Harrington’s fascinating projections that realized much of what was being sung in the libretto. Christine Crook’s stylized costumes were equally lacking in detail, but they served to set the time of the action in the past.
Soprano Albina Shagimuratova portrayed a troubled Lucia who had hallucinations from the beginning. An accomplished virtuoso, she created a real character and sang the coloratura trills and cadenzas of the Mad Scene with freshness and verve. Commanding the stage as her passionate lover Edgardo, tenor Saimir Pirgu sang with great beauty of tone and a variety of sound colors. He was already a fine tenor when he first came to LA to sing Rinuccio in the company’s 2008 Gianni Schicchi, but he has since become one of the world’s most important interpreters of lyric tenor roles. Even with the inclusion of an extra scene in this production, he sounded as fresh at the end of the opera as he did when it began.
Baritone Stephen Powell who impressed the San Diego audience in Pagliacci, was thoroughly confrontational as Lucia’s bully of a brother, Enrico. His evenly focused stentorian tones let you know that he would have his way, no matter what the consequences. As the Calvinist preacher, Raimondo, James Cresswell was the sanest of the principal characters, but his version of religion was no help to the heroine. Vocally, his range was even from top to bottom as he sang Donizetti’s difficult music.
I hope this cast will record the opera. This sextet, in particular, with six equally strong wonderful voices, deserves to have a wider hearing. Vladimir Dmitruk, the Arturo, will probably make a good career in the future and D’Ana Lombard, the Alisa, may go on to more important roles. Joshua Guerrero, who had already been spotted as a new talent when he sang in last year’s Evening of Zarzuela and Latin American Music, was a committed Normanno.
Enrico, Stephen Powell, and Lucia, Albina Shagimuratova
This was a complete rendition of the opera that opened up the usual cuts. The inclusion of the Wolf’s Crag Scene brought some music to the stage that many operagoers might never have heard sung live before. It also added to the audience’s knowledge of Edgardo’s character. Although the movements of members of Grant Gershon’s chorus were stylized, they added greatly to dramatic tension of each of the scenes in which they appeared with their strong, well-harmonized singing.
James Conlon brought us not only the complete Lucia, he performed it for us the way Donizetti originally conceived it. That included Thomas Bloch’s exquisite playing of the glass harmonica as the accompaniment to Lucia’s madness. The instrument is composed of numerous blown crystal glass bowls fitted into one another but not touching. They are held in place by a horizontal rod. The diameter of each bowl determines its note and a pedal controls the rotation of all so that the player can rub their edges with wet fingers as the bowls turn.
Maestro Conlon gave his audience dramatic climaxes as well as long lyrical lines while supporting the singers by keeping the decibel level low enough for them to be heard with ease. This was an extraordinary rendition of this well known opera that many in the audience will remember for years to come.
Maria Nockin
Cast and production information:
Normanno, Joshua Guerrero; Enrico, Stephen Powell; Raimondo, James Creswell; Lucia, Albina Shagimuratova; Alisa, D’Ana Lombard; Edgardo, Saimir Pirgu; Arturo, Vladimir Dmitruk; Conductor, James Conlon; Director Elkhanah Pulitzer; Projection and Scenic Designer, Wendall K. Harrington; Scenery Designer, Carolina Angulo; Costume Designer, Christine Crook; Lighting Designer, Duane Schuler; Chorus Master, Grant Gershon; Movement, Kitty McNamee.
image=http://www.operatoday.com/LdL5SHAG%20MAD018.png
image_description=Albina Shagimuratova as Lucia in Mad Scene [Photo by Robert Millard]
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product_title=Lucia in LA: A Performance to Remember
product_by=A review by Maria Nockin
product_id=Above: Albina Shagimuratova as Lucia in Mad Scene
Photos by Robert Millard
San Diego Opera Presents an All Star Ballo in Maschera
In 1857, the Teatro San Carlo in Naples commissioned Giuseppe Verdi to write an opera. He first intended the work to be his King Lear, but that could not be ready in time for the 1858 Carnival Season. Later, he and his librettist Antonio Somma decided to base an Italian opera on Eugène Scribe’s French libretto for Daniel Auber's Gustave III, ou Le bal masqué. Scribe wrote about the 1792 assassination of King Gustav III of Sweden who was shot while attending a masked ball. Censors in Italy, however, had serious objections. Verdi and Somma made changes, only to be refused a second time. In his libretto, Scribe had kept the historical figures of Gustav and the fortune-teller, but added the character of Amelia and her romance with the king.
On January 14, 1858, several Italians attempted to assassinate Emperor Napoleon III in Paris. After that, censors absolutely forbade the opera to show the murder of a monarch. They told Verdi and Somma to make further changes. Verdi was so angry that he broke his contract. The management of San Carlo sued him and he countersued. After some months, when the legal issues were resolved, Verdi was free to present the libretto and musical outline of the work to the Rome Opera. Since censors demanded further changes, they moved the site of the action to Boston during the British colonial period.
Tenor Piotr Beczala (Gustav III) and mezzo-soprano Stephanie Blythe (Madame Arvidson).
On February 17, 1859, The Teatro Apollo in Rome premiered Un ballo in maschera (A Masked Ball). Not until the twentieth century was the site of the action moved back to Sweden. Now the baritone is called Count Anckarström after the actual killer who was beheaded for his crime.
On March 11, 2014, San Diego Opera presented Verdi’s A Masked Ball in a traditional production by Leslie Koenig. She used wonderfully ornate older scenery that formed an excellent background for John Conklin’s soft colored costumes and Gary Marder’s well-planned lighting designs. Metropolitan Opera star tenor Piotr Beczala was Gustav III, the king of Sweden. It’s a long role and there were a few rough-edged tones in his first aria, but after that he gave a radiant performance. His duet with Krassimira Stoyanova, the Amelia, and his final aria were superbly sung. Stoyanova's lustrous voice blended well with Beczala's and she gave an insightful portrayal of his troubled but innocent love interest.
Greek baritone Aris Argiris is new to San Diego. With his performance of Count Anckarström, he established himself as a fine singing actor with a stentorian voice and a commanding presence. His scene with Amelia made sparks fly across the orchestra pit. Stephanie Blythe has an incredible voice with a distinctive sound and a huge range of tone colors, all of which she used as Madame Arvidson, the mysterious fortune-teller.
Act 3 finale
The trouser role of Oscar requires a coloratura soprano to provide a bit of comic relief in the midst of this dark, tragic story. Kathleen Kim’s bright sound and jaunty stance provided just the right touch for the part. Joseph Hu was thoroughly amusing as an infirm High Judge. Dark voiced Kevin Langan and Ashraf Sewailam were impressively menacing as Counts Ribbing and Horn.
Chorus Master Charles F. Prestinari’s singers represented townspeople of various professions and they sang together in solid harmonies. Conductor Massimo Zanetti made a most auspicious debut and proved that the orchestra can be part of the drama. He brought the orchestra up to fortissimo on some occasions when there was no singing and kept it down to a reasonable level when soloists had to be heard above it.
Maria Nockin
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Cast and Production Information:
Count Ribbing, Kevin Langan; Count Horn, Ashraf Sewailam; High Judge and Amelia’s Servant, Joseph Hu; Gustav III, Piotr Beczala; Count Anckarström, Aris Argiris; Amelia Anckarström, Krassimira Stoyanova; Madame Arvidson, Stephanie Blythe; Oscar, Kathleen Kim; Conductor, Massimo Zanetti; Director, Lesley Koenig; Costume Designer, John Conklin; Chorus Master, Charles F. Prestinari; Lighting Design, Gary Marder; Choreographer, Kenneth Von Heidecke
image=http://www.operatoday.com/BAL1_1560a-L.png
image_description=Baritone Aris Argiris (Count Anckarstrom) and soprano Krassimira Stoyanova (Amelia) in San Diego Opera's A MASKED BALL. March, 2014. [Photo copyright Ken Howard]
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product_title=San Diego Opera Presents an All Star Ballo in Maschera
product_by=A review by Maria Nockin
product_id=Above: Baritone Aris Argiris (Count Anckarstrom) and soprano Krassimira Stoyanova (Amelia) in San Diego Opera's A MASKED BALL. March, 2014.
Photos © Ken Howard
Anne Schwanewilms, Wigmore Hall
As in their December 2011 recital at the Wigmore Hall, Schwanewilms and pianist Charles Spencer chose to open both halves of the evening with songs from Mahler’s Des Knaben Wunderhorn — indeed they repeated the previous programme almost in its entirety, deviating only at the end when three songs by Richard Strauss replaced Mahler’s five Rückert Lieder. But, who minds such replication when the singing is so refined, the artistry so expressive and the partnership between soprano and accompanist so finely attuned.
Schwanewilms can command the world’s grandest operatic stages: her voice is luxurious and immense, and her sense of character and situation discerning and adroit. Indeed, commenting upon her recent Metropolitan Opera appearance as the Empress in Strauss’s Die Frau ohne Schatten, one critic observed ‘Schwanewilms was still a powerful presence even when she was silent’. But, she always tailors the expanse and colour of her voice, and the articulation of the text, to the poetic or dramatic situation. Pianist Roger Vignoles has suggested that ‘to enter the world of Mahler’s Wunderhorn songs is like opening a picture book. Each page gives us another character, another fairy tale, another episode, whether happy or tragic, in the tale of human existence’, and here Schwanewilms put her protean naturalism to superb effect in Mahler’s enchanting songs, by turns wryly comic and sweetly pastoral.
Bird-song pre-dominated. In ‘Um schlimme Kinder artig zu machen’ (How to make naughty children behave), Spencer’s dry staccato and droll rubatos introduced Schwanewilms’ nonchalant presentation of the folky ballad, the ringing cuckoo-calls amusingly onomatopoeic. Sadly, the cuckoo met his demise in the following song, ‘Ablösung in Sommer’ (The changing of the summer guard), exhausted by his own lusty singing, to be replaced by the nightingale; this shift from the rustic clowning of the preceding song to transcendent lyricism was perfectly represented by the soprano’s silky tone, crystalline at the top, and Spencer’s intricate embellishments.
In ‘Ich ging mit Lust’ (I walked joyfully) the simple sweetness of the rising phrases blossomed to acquire an ecstatic sheen as Schwanewilms conveyed the pure delight inspired by ‘Die kleinen Waldvögelein im grünen Wald!’ (those woodland birds in the green wood!). Changes of key and texture were thoughtfully nuanced, the curving rhapsodic phrases uplifting, and the ending poignant — ‘Wo ist dein Herzliebster geblieben?’ (Where is your sweetheart now?). Spencer effectively pointed the piquant harmonies and twists in ‘Verlorne Müh’ (Wasted effort), and Schwanewilms proved equally convincing as both the crafty flirtatious shepherdess who attempts to entice her ‘laddie’ and the stubbornly unyielding shepherd boy himself — mulishly flinging his final refusal at the enamoured lass, ‘Ich mag es halt nit!’ (I’ll have none of it).
The later sequence of Wunderhorn songs plumbed deeper emotions, beginning with ‘Scheiden und Meiden’ (Farewell and parting). Schwanewilms bloomed gloriously through the impassioned departure depicted in the first stanza, while the rich hues of her lower register cast a more ominous shadow over the second stanza, with its allusions to darkness and death: ‘Es scheidet da Kind schon in der Wieg!’ (The child departs in the cradle even!). The closing leave-takings — ‘Ade! Ade!’ — expressed first urgent desire and then resigned acceptance.
‘Rheinlegendchen’ (Little Rhine legend) span a charmingly innocent narrative, the piano interludes playing their part in conveying imagery and feeling. ‘Wo die schönen Trompeten blasen’ (Where the splendid trumpets sound) was one of the highlights of the Mahler lieder, beautifully poetic as the soprano first enriched her tone, ‘Das Mädchen stand auf, und ließ ihn ein’ (The girl arose and let him in), and then retreated, the ethereally floating phrase, ‘Willkommen, lieber Knabe mein’ (O welcome, dearest love of mine), suggesting the fragility of the wondrous, longed-for moment. Schwanewilms bestowed a warmth upon the soldier’s admission that he must soon depart, before Spencer’s alert ‘trumpet-calls’ (reminding us that in these songs Mahler conjures on the piano the diverse instrumental colours of the original orchestral scoring) whisked him away to war.
We began where we started, with a singing competition between the cuckoo and nightingale, ‘Lob des hohen Verstandes’ (In praise of high intellect) with Schwanewilms once more relishing the opportunity to imitate the musical calling cards of the natural world.
Between the two Mahler sequences, songs by Lizst encouraged both singer and accompanist to expand their expressive range. In ‘Oh! Quand je dors’ (Ah, while I sleep) Schwanewilms demonstrated her thrilling power and consummate control, swelling and then retreating to an exquisite pianissimo with absolute assurance, and subtly modifying the colour of the final held note to underscore the change from major to minor tonality: ‘Soudain mon âme/ S’éveillera!’ (at once my soul/will wake!) Three songs from ‘Lieder aus Schillers Wilhelm Tell’ followed. ‘Der Fischerknabe’ (The fisherboy) was notable for the weightless, gliding rise in the closing line, ‘Ich locke den Schläfer,/ Ich zieh ihn herein’ (I lure the slumberer/ and drag him down), the transparent piano postlude underpinning the melodic paradox. Similarly, in ‘Die Hirt’ (The shepherd) and ‘Der Alpenjäger’ (The alpine hunstman), Spencer’s part in the communicating the narrative was not inconsiderable.
Closing the first half, an impassioned rendition of ‘Loreley’ showcased Schwanewilms’ ability to effortlessly modulate the mood and the extraordinary power and flexibility of her voice across an astonishing range. The tone was sumptuous, the legato seamless, and the complex architecture ofo the song skilfully crafted.
One of the finest Straussian’s performing on the operatic stage today, Schwanewilm offered three of the composer’s songs to conclude. The melodic lines of ‘Die Nacht’ were imbued with energy, painting a vivid portrait of darkness as it extinguishes and steals the lights of the world — ironically, the soprano’s own voice reverberated with the flowers’ colours and the river’s silvery gloss which the nocturnal visitant plunders. Spencer’s urgent, climbing lines and heavy accompanimental rhythms brought a sense of desperation to the closing verses of ‘Geduld’ (Patience). The concluding ‘Allerseelen’ (All Souls’ Day) was laden with nostalgia, most especially in the intense repetitions of longing (‘Gib mir nur einen deiner süßen Blicke’, (give me but one of your sweet glances)) and the rapture of the final cry, ‘Komm’ an mein Herz, daß ich dich wieder habe’ (come to my heart and so be mine again).
Schwanewilms knows and understands these songs, but the delivery retains a freshness which is entrancing. Quite simply, one cannot imagine anyone singing them better.
Claire Seymour
Programme:
Mahler — From Des Knaben Wunderhorn: ‘Um schlimme Kinder artig zu machen’; ‘Ablösung im Sommer’; ‘Ich ging mit Lust’; ‘Verlorne Müh’; ‘Scheiden und Meiden’; ‘Rheinlegendchen’; ‘Wo die schönen Trompeten blasen’; ‘Lob des hohen Verstandes’. Liszt — ‘Oh! quand je dors’; ‘Lieder aus Schillers Wilhelm Tell’; ‘Die Loreley’. Richard Strauss: ‘Die Nacht’; ‘Geduld’; ‘Allerseelen’. Anne Schwanewilms, soprano; Charles Spencer, piano. Wigmore Hall, London, 13 March 2014.
image=http://www.operatoday.com/A_Schwanewilms_%28c%29_Javier_del_Real_WEB.png image_description=Anne Schwanewilms [Photo by Javier del Real] product=yes product_title=Anne Schwanewilms, Wigmore Hall product_by=A review by Claire Seymour product_id=Above: Anne Schwanewilms [Photo by Javier del Real]Die Frau ohne Schatten, Royal Opera
Dread memories of Christof Loy (Tristan and Lulu, here in London, still more his unspeakable Salzburg travesty of Die Frau) made me wonder afterward whether I had shown undue clemency, but no: almost two days later, I am still reeling from the impact of so extraordinary a performance, one which no house in the world could conceivably improve upon, and which I doubt could even be matched. For whilst Claus Guth’s production had many virtues, which I shall come to a little later, it was Strauss’s astonishing, still widely misunderstood, score which, rightly, had pride of place. If any performance, anywhere in the world, does more for his cause in this anniversary year, I think I shall find myself in need of a new vocabulary of superlatives.
Johan Reuter as Barak and Elena Pankratova as Barak’s Wife
Above all, I must commend Semyon Bychkov and the Orchestra of the Royal Opera House. The very first time I heard this work was in 2001, the final outing of John Cox’s Royal Opera production, with celebrated designs by David Hockney; Christoph von Dohnányi’s conducting of the orchestra remains one of the finest I have heard of a Strauss opera. Then, I found myself lost in admiration both for his and for this orchestra’s achievement. Bychkov proved himself every inch Dohnányi’s equal; indeed, I am not entirely sure that he was not surpassed. No matter: it is not a competition. Bychkov’s command of the orchestra was nothing short of awe-inspiring. If in retrospect, the first act seemed seemed a little on the expository side, then that is surely a reflection of Strauss’s writing. Patiently building up not only the dramatic tension but the motivic material from which the score would truly, ravishingly blossom, Bychkov showed himself possessed in equal measure of an ear for colour so acute as almost to rival Boulez — now imagine a FroSch from him! — with the deepest of structural understanding. Horizontal and vertical presentation of the score offered in conjunction with voices and staging a three-, even four- dimensional performance to rival that one sees in one’s mind when hearing Karl Böhm on CD. And if the Covent Garden did not sound quite with Böhm’s Viennese sweetness, it had phantasmagorical qualities all of its own: the refreshment of a true rival rather than the flattery of imitation. More than once, I found myself thinking, doubtless heretically: Klangfarbenmelodie! Strauss’s uncomprehending disdain for the ‘atonal’ Schoenberg notwithstanding, we did not stand so very far from the world of the latter’s op.16 Orchestral Pieces. Bychkov’s ear for combining musico-dramatical tension in the combination of sonority and harmonic tension ensured that we must think of him as not only an excellent, but a great Straussian.
And then — the singing! That earlier Covent Garden performance had also marked my first encounter with Johan Botha. He proved at least as remarkable more than twelve years on. This Emperor, as mellifluous as he was vocally powerful, sounded every inch a Siegfried, and a golden age Siegfried at that. (If indeed such an age ever really existed.) Emily Magee had a few moments of relative infallibility, but by any reasonable standards, her Empress was an impressive achievement, all the more so given the wholehearted dramatic commitment offered in conjunction with the purely vocal. Elena Pankratova was making her Royal Opera debut as Barak’s Wife; hochdramtisch singing of the highest order was to be savoured here, her climaxes at the end of the first and second acts sending shivers down the spine. If Johan Reuter’s Barak at first sounded a little plain, that may as much have been character-portrayal as anything else; his performance grew into something genuinely moving, testament to the potential greatness of, as it were, Everyman (to borrow from Hofmannsthal’s future). As for Michaela Schuster’s Nurse, her offerng of musical and dramatic malevolence — tonality on less the pre- than the post-Schoenbergian brink, though never beyond it — would have been an object lesson in itself, even had it not been heightened by such stage presence and intelligence. Smaller roles were almost all impressively handled, David Butt Philip’s attractively voiced Apparition perhaps especially worthy of note. The only disappointment was the tremulous Falcon of Anush Hovhannisyan. Renato Balsadonna’s Royal Opera Chorus was, as expected, excellent throughout.
Elena Pankratova as Barak’s Wife; Michaela Schuster as Nurse and Emily Magee as Empress
Guth’s staging, first seen at La Scala in 2012, presents the Empress in a sanatorium, Christian Schmidt’s stylish designs highly evocative of the time of composition. Our heroine is, one might say, hysterical in every sense. To begin with, she — and we — are somewhat unclear concerning the boundaries of reality and dream. Is Freud being channelled or satirised? Unclear, and all the better for it, which renders the very ending, in which it appears ‘all to have been a dream’ something of a disappointment. That said, much of what we see in between is riveting. With the best will in the world, some of Hofmannsthal’s symbolism upon symbolism — The Magic Flute really is best left alone — can seem unnecessary; it certainly seemed — and seems — to do so to Strauss. Yet the poet’s idea of transformation gains a fair hearing, or rather viewing, and there is a proper sense of the mythological, even the fantastical, to the dreamed world we enter, never more so than at the spectacular close to the second act, Olaf Winter’s lighting crucial here, and the craggy opening of the third. Those problematical echoes of Tamino and Pamina’s trials are presented with greater visual conviction than I can previously recall — and indeed greater conviction than one often sees in productions of the ‘original’. The sheer weirdness but also menacing sense of judgement emanating from a courtroom of strange creatures close to the end not only testifies to imagination and its possibilities but also to the misogynistic pro-natalism, from which, try as we might, we cannot ultimately rescue the opera. By contrast, Loy in Salzburg arrogantly declared that the work did not interest him and made not even the slightest attempt to deal with it. It was the sort of thing that might appeal to those who do not care for Strauss, or indeed Hofmannsthal, in the first place, though even they would most likely have been bored to tears with the banal ‘alternative’ narrative presented. Guth, for the most part, successfully treads a tightrope between presentation and interpretation.
A good staging then, and a truly outstanding musical performance. My first act upon returning home was to visit the Royal Opera House website, to buy myself another ticket. Hear this if you can. The performance on 29 March will be broadcast live on BBC Radio 3 at 5.45 p.m.
Mark Berry
Cast and production information:
Nurse: Michaela Schuster; Spirit Messenger: Ashley Holland; Emperor: Johan Botha; Empress: Emily Magee; Voice of the Falcon: Anush Hovhannisyan; The One-Eyed: Adrian Clarke; The One-Armed: Jeremy White; The Hunchback: Hubert Francis; Barak’s Wife: Elena Pankratova; Barak: Johan Reuter; Serving Maids: Kathy Batho, Emma Smith, Andrea Hazell; Apparition of a Youth: David Butt Philip; Voices of Unborn Children: Ana James, Kiandra Howarth, Andrea Hazell, Nadezhda Karyazina, Cari Searle, Amy Catt; Night-Watchmen: Michel de Souza, Jihoon Kim, Adrian Clarke Voice from Above: Catherine Carby; Guardian of the Threshold: Dušica Bijelić. Director: Claus Guth; Designs: Christian Schmidt; Lighting: Olaf Winter; Video: Andi A. Müller; Associate Director: Aglaja Nicolet; Dramaturge: Ronny Dietrich; Royal Opera Chorus (chorus master: Renato Balsadonna)/Orchestra of the Royal Opera House/Semyon Bychkov (conductor). Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, London, Friday 14 March 2014.
image=http://www.operatoday.com/140311_1111.png image_description=Emily Magee as Empress [Photo © ROH / Clive Barda] product=yes product_title=Die Frau ohne Schatten, Royal Opera product_by=A review by Mark Berry product_id=Above: Emily Magee as EmpressPhotos © ROH / Clive Barda
March 13, 2014
Jean-Paul Scarpitta in Montpellier
Jean-Paul Scarpitta however wanted to talk about his battles, a situation he has not yet spoken about publicly. As the luncheon meeting progressed the battles, the man and his Mozart trilogy merged into a single philosophy created of quite complex components.
It all starts with composer René Koering who brought Jean-Paul Scarpitta to Montpellier in 2001 for a small mise en scène of Saint-Saêns’ Carnival of the Animals. Koering who had a long standing programming connection with Radio France founded the Festival de Radio France et de Montpellier Languedoc-Roussillon in 1985. Always a forum for rare music and performances, in the first decade of the next century this superb summer festival was especially noted for reviving forgotten operas from the early twentieth century.
In 1990 Koering became the director of the Opéra Orchestre National de Montpellier (OONM), bringing the ideals of the festival into the daily musical life of Montpellier — a broad program of symphonic and chamber music, original productions of rare and standard opera at ticket prices that encourage filled halls (top prices even in 2014 are but 32 euros for concerts and 65 euros for operas plus there are substantial discounts for subscribers and those under 27 years of age).
Montpellier’s 250,000 residents are part of an urban area that counts 550,000 inhabitants, making it the fourteenth largest metropolitan area in France. Its Opéra however is one of only five regional companies (with Bordeaux, Nancy, Lyon, and Strasbourg) that are designated as national, denoting a stature more or less akin to the Opéra National de Paris.
Jean-Paul Scarpitta returned to the festival in 2004 to stage Kodály’s singspiel Háry Jànos. But with a twist. Scarpitta brought his friend Gérard Depardieu with him to narrate Kodaly’s tale about a country bumpkin who arrives in Vienna. Scarpitta’s first steps as a metteur en scène had been back in 1997 for Stravinsky’s A Soldier’s Tale at Paris’ Théâtre des Champs-Élysées with Depardieu as the soldier. I asked how he knew Depardieu. Scarpitta said that he had gone backstage after a performance to introduce himself. Responding to my un-asked question Scarpitta said that you accept your friends as they are.
Conductor Ricardo Muti has been an important force in Scarpitta’s artistic life for the past 20 years. I asked how he came to know the famous maestro. Scarpitta said he introduced himself going backstage after a performance, greatly moved by the music.
Jean-Paul Scarpitta [Source: Wikipedia]
Scarpitta confessed that he needs to admire. An adolescent, his greatest admiration was of ballerina Ghislaine Thesmar who later became a star at the Paris Opera Ballet in the 1970‘s, and a frequent guest star at the New York City Ballet as well. Scarpitta told me how he, a student of art history, followed her to New York with his camera, documenting her work with George Balanchine and Jerome Robbins. Another photographic adventure as well helped propel the young Scarpitta to recognition in Parisian artistic circles — he compiled an exhibition of 50 years of fashion photography in Vogue magazine, an exhibition that toured the world.
I neglected to ask what repertoire Muti conducted the night Scarpitta met the maestro. Maybe it was Mozart, a composer Muti became close to in his forty year association with the Vienna Philharmonic. The Italian conductor is famous for his strongly personal Mozart, fusing intelligence, elegance and wit, attributes that as well extend to the stagings of the Mozart/DaPonte trilogy by Jean-Paul Scarpitta.
For Scarpitta art is line and form and tone, in music, dance and photography. But above all else Scarpitta insists that it is heart. Scarpitta announced to me that we are all Don Giovanni.
Those many years ago Muti told Scarpitta that he needed a theater where he would make his own art. Scarpitta’s was appointed general director of the OONM in 2011, fulfilling finally Muti’s assertion. That same year Muti invited Scarpitta to stage Nabucco in Rome. The production became famous not because of Scarpitta’s staging but because at the premiere Muti laid down his baton after the "Va pensiero" chorus to speak to the audience about the Berlusconi budget cuts to the arts, quoting a line from the chorus, “Oh mia patria, sì bella e perduta (lost).”
Muti then invited the public to sing along in a repeat of the famous chorus. Learn the words before you attend Nabucco at the Chorégies d’Orange this summer where "Va pensiero" has always been a singalong. It will again be staged by Scarpitta.
And, quid pro quo, Scarpitta invited Muti’s daughter Chiara to Montpellier to stage Orfeo ed Euridice this past fall (yes, the Italian, not the French version), her debut as an opera director.
Enter another of the forces in Scarpitta’s artistic life: Georges Frêche, mayor of Montpellier from 1977 until 2004 when he became president of the Montpellier agglomeration and then president of the conseil régional de Languedoc-Rossillon until his death in October 2010. This remarkable man, prominent in the Socialist Party his entire life, gave Montpellier its current look, initiating major urbanization projects that have made Montpellier a model for the world. Among the most significant is a huge central plaza, the Place Comédie and Esplanade, with the fine old (1888) 1200 seat Opéra Comédie at one extreme and the ultra-modern, 2000 seat Théâtre Berlioz at the other. Scarpitta deems this expanse of enlightened urbanization a sleeping beauty, begging to be artistically fulfilled.
Evidently a passionate proponent of the arts Georges Frêche was also an advocate of making the arts accessible to a large public. He had his disciple in René Koering whom he advanced to Superintendent of Music for Montpellier in 2000. A golden era ensued that ultimately gave Jean Paul Scarpitta his theater, among many other accomplishments. Scarpitta staged the world premiere of Pergolesi’s never before performed Salustia, Hindemith’s lurid Sancta Susanna, Honneger’s Joan of Arc at the Stake, plus Offenbach’s never finished La Haine (here completed by composer Koering) with Depardieu and another of Scapitta’s fascinations, actress Fanny Ardant.
Koering named Scarpitta to “artist-in-residence” at OONM for 2006/07 thus signaling to the honorable Frêche that Scarpitta was artistically and politically his obvious successor. Scarpitta had moved in the François Mitterrand circles in Paris in the 1980’s (as did Françoise Sagan who became, by the way, an intimate friend of Scarpitta). Interestingly Mitterrand, France’s first socialist president, always kept his distance from Frêche who had been a fervent Maoist in the 1960’s and remained ever since a firebrand politician.
The death of Frêche in 2010 upended and ended the office of Superintendent of Music, its finances were made public (Montpellier’s daily newspaper Midi Libre reported that Koering had awarded himself an annual salary of 294,000 euros), its considerable deficits were questioned, and furthermore France’s Ministry of Culture had descended from Paris to insist that something be done about the quality of the chorus — not up to the standard of an opéra national!
Koering, then 70 years old, his artistic and political accomplishment enormous, stepped aside a year before his contract expired to make way for new energy — a team headed by Jean-Paul Scarpitta.
Rare and forgotten repertory has all but disappeared from Scarpitta’s personal theater, replaced by the grand repertory of heroines who are victims — Carmen, Manon, Violetta and particularly Mimi whom Scarpitta deems a saint who gains the veneration of all those who surround her. As a stage director Scarpitta describes his approach as instinctual rather than conceptual, allowing him to juxtapose the redemptive process effected by the sacrifices of these operatic heroines with his fascination for Baudelaire, a poet whose name he often mentioned during our lunch. In fact Baudelaire’s search in Les Fleurs du Mal for sublime beauty in crude reality is exactly matched in these four operas.
Scarpitta originally staged Mozart’s Don Giovanni in 2007 with France’s famed Le Concert Spiritual in the pit, this esteemed Baroque ensemble then in residence in Koering’s Montpellier. Most striking was the youth of the cast, and beyond that the perfection of the casting, each character beautifully defined physically, well endowed vocally and musically finished. The key to the staging was the hysterical laughter of Don Giovanni that ended the first act — a young man very unsure of himself, Scarpitta explained when I asked about the laughter. The uncertainties of youth were very present and made potent by fine singing. The death of the Don was but the catalyst of the consequent tragedies felt in all these young lives.
Les Noces de Figaro took us to another plain, that of luxury and elegance. Scarpitta’s friend, famous couturier Jean Paul Gaultier created the costumes that clothed the perfect cast. Again the crème de la crème of young singers who could have been cast because their bodies made high fashion design look like such, or these singers could have been cast because they were capable of highly refined lyricism. Scarpitta’s staging too was all about elegance, that restrained beauty inherent in minimal movement (this included several quite graceful full body falls). In spite of Figaro assuming the fetal position during Marcellina’s aria Mozart’s humanity was the casualty of the production.
Jean Paul Gaultier and Jean-Paul Scarpitta are both directors of the Carla Bruni-Sarkozy Foundation, an activity very much on Scarpitta’s mind. The foundation offers educational opportunities to academically talented, under-privileged youth, and stresses that the grants are made to youth both on the political right and left. In 2007 Scarpitta was one of 150 French intellectuals who signed a letter supporting Socialist Party candidate Ségolène Royal in her bid for the presidency of France won by Nicolas Sarkozy. On the other hand Scarpitta was one of 20 prominent French artists who signed a letter supporting Sarkozy in the 2012 presidential election.
As for nearly all the operas he has staged for Montpellier Scarpitta designed the set for Cosi fan tutte — a green floor and a blue wall. That is all. There is however no minimalism whatsoever in the pit. Conductors for the trilogy have been as young and talented as the cast. For Cosi it was English conductor Alexander Shelley who brought remarkable musical depth to this problematic Mozart opera. In fact this conductor made time stand still — the opera was not about its silly story, it was about the voices of youth, and Scarpitta’s staging left no emotive pulse of the music without an empathetic position. The splendid young cast abstractly danced to the music of this conductor.
Le Figaro rightly discerned that there was no humor in this Cosi, and went on to find a complete absence of stage direction in Scarpitta’s stripped down production, adding that the voices of the Fiordiligi and Dorabella were splendid if you did not have to look at the stage, and that the Despina was the only dramatically alive character on the stage. Le Monde rightly discerned that this was a staging of a légèreté galante (galant lightness), but meant that such an approach is hardly the current and appropriate politic for Cosi. And furthermore that the cast was uniformly mediocre, especially the Despina. Well, except the Dorabella who was magnificent, not to mention the equally wonderful violas of the orchestra, alto voices evidently on this critic’s mind.
An internet blogger correctly attributed Scarpitta’s dramaturgy to Robert Wilson (or “Bob” as he is known in France) and to Giorgio Strehler, suggesting that it is mere imitation. The venerated Italian metteur en scène Strehler was the first of Scarpitta’s theatrical fascinations, and through ballerina Ghislaine Thesmar he wangled an introduction. He then became part of Strehler’s Parisian cadre, observing this great director at work.
The European operatic avant garde has long been smitten with Texan Robert Wilson (Scarpitta now has Wilson’s, that is Bob’s gifted lighting designer Urs Schönebaum as part of his creative team). If Scarpitta’s stagings are homages to these two theatrical geniuses they are as well his homages to opera’s grand repertoire. This is Scarpitta’s style, based on his greatest need — to admire. This operatic minimalism, seen through Baudelaire’s filter of evil flowers gives Scarpitta his unique, and original directorial voice.
Scarpitta has not had good press, for example the Montpellier daily Midi Libre blindly repeated assertions by the chorus that he does not read music. I asked if he in fact does not read music. Of course he does, and plays the piano, one of the passions of his early youth. He does not read orchestral score, nor do I, nor I imagine do most of the choristers.
The Scarpitta artistic vision for Montpellier, and some of the guest conductors, like Riccardo Muti, and designers like Schönebaum have placed great pressures on the OONM salaires — the chorus, orchestra and the stagehands, the workers in the artistic trenches of the opera company. After the comfortable satisfactions of the Koering years they have not liked the Scarpitta challenges and have effected his removal from the direction of OONM.
Scarpitta has one final staging in his contract, Bartok’s Bluebeard’s Castle that will occur in fall 2014. Don Giovanni and Barbe-bleue are two masculine operatic signposts that hold great interest for Scarpitta. Like Giovanni, Barbe-bleue dares to show his inner self, his solitude, his sorrows, his difficulties with relationships. Scarpitta believes that the blood on Bartok’s stage is actually that of Bluebeard, oozing more each and every day. There is no doubt that it is Scarpitta’s blood to be spilled all over the stage this fall. And I believe he will have enjoyed every minute of his combats montpelliérains.
Scarpitta wishes his successor, Valérie Chevalier, success. He recognizes her very great experience will be quite useful as she confronts the enormous financial, artistic and political challenges facing OONM. In the wake of the Scarpitta difficulties for this current season the Regional Council, a supporter of Scarpitta, had diminished its contribution by 5 million euros (Georges Frêche had taken it to 9,5 million so it became 4 million). The president of the Montpellier agglomeration, Jean Pierre Moure, who removed Scarpitta from the OONM direction, stepped in with an additional 5 million to restore the budget to 24,000,000 euros. President Moure has made himself a very important patron of and participant in the affairs of the OONM.
It was a tense lunch at the Jardin des Cinq Sens, a Relais et Chateaux with its Michelin starred restaurant, Scarpitta’s residence when in Montpellier. He was on edge knowing that he is raw meat for journalists. I could not find a way to put him at ease and we never really connected during those two and one half hours. Well, maybe at the end we did — when we stood up he used his napkin to brush off the breadcrumbs that had fallen onto my shirtfront.
We met again after the late afternoon symphony concert at the Théâtre Berlioz. Young Alexander Shelley of the Scarpitta Cosi had conducted, slowly, very slowly Franck’s Symphony in D minor, and the principal cellist of the Orchestre National de Montpellier, Alexandre Dmitriev had performed Henri Dutilleux’s Tout un monde lointain, the title a verse from Baudelaire’s La Chevelure, and each of its five movements prescribed with verses pulled from Les Fleurs du Mal. Seated within sight of Scarpitta we could see he was transfixed (the man sitting next to me went to sleep). It was also quite apparent that some sections of the orchestra are in need of modernization.
No longer on edge, and walking on air after the Dutilleux, Scarpitta kissed the hand of my wife and recalled his trip through San Francisco, how he had admired the city on his way to Napa to visit his friend — yes, you guessed it — Francis Ford Coppola.
Michael Milenski
Michael Milenski resides in San Francisco in spring and fall, and in the south of France in winter and summer. His reviews of the Scarpitta Mozart/DaPonte operas are on Opera Today. This essay was compiled from articles in the French press, a lengthy statement by Jean-Paul Scarpitta on the website of the Carlo Bruni-Sarkozy Foundation, general information found on the web, and of course from his conversations with Mr. Scarpitta.
image=http://www.operatoday.com/Scarpitta_Color.png
image_description=Jean-Paul Scarpitta [Photo by Marc Ginot / Opéra national de Montpellier]
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product_id=Above: Jean-Paul Scarpitta [Photo by Marc Ginot / Opéra national de Montpellier]
March 12, 2014
Interview: Tenor Saimir Pirgu — From Albania to Italy to LA
When legendary tenor Luciano Pavarotti was at a spa, he asked for a singer to come and perform for him. My teacher suggested that I sing for him. Pavarotti liked me so much that he became my mentor. That was the luckiest moment of my life! I was nineteen when I started working with him.
Albanian lyric tenor Saimir Pirgu has sung in the world’s most important opera houses. He began his career as a protégé of Luciano Pavarotti and Claudio Abbado. Pirgu has studied with Vito Brunetti for his entire career.
MN: Saimir, you come from Albania. Can you tell us a little bit about the country?
SP: Albania is very close to Greece and Italy. It has a beautiful coastline and wonderful mountains. It is my country and I love it, but we have had a sad history because we were subjected to forty-five years of Communism. Now that is all gone and it’s a good time for tourists to enjoy its beauty. Albania’s problem is that it is small and can’t afford to do as much publicity to bring in tourists as Croatia, Greece, and Italy do. However, I’m very optimistic and think, with a new government in power, tourists will begin to flock to Albania’s uncrowded beaches.
I was born and grew up in the hard working, industrial city of Elbasan, close to Tirana. I began violin lessons at the School for Music and Art there. I wanted to study piano, but the school insisted that I begin with violin. Now I realize that the ear training one gets from the violin is very valuable to a singer. Actually, playing any instrument makes a singer a better musician. If I did not have that violin background, I doubt that the great conductor, Claudio Abbado, would have worked with me personally. You have to have much more than just a beautiful voice to be a successful opera singer. Young singers have to be able to understand what each conductor is asking of them. That takes good preparation and a good musical intellect. It’s why students should start learning an instrument in elementary school. I attended what Americans would call junior and senior high school in Tirana and after that, at the age of nineteen, I left Albania to study at the Monteverdi Conservatory in Bolzano, Italy.
MN: How did you find life in Italy?
SP: Bolzano has two fine orchestras and it is the home of the Ferruccio Busoni Competition. It was at the conservatory in Bolzano that I met my coach, Vito Brunetti. That school is my alma mater. When you live somewhere as a young man you leave something of yourself there! My time in Bolzano was really good because that city and that school had everything a student could want. You had both Austrian and Italian culture there because that part of Italy has a continuing relationship with Austria and Germany. Living there, you learn both languages. Understanding both cultures is important for a music student. Upon finishing my studies I was prepared to work in both Milan and Vienna. When I eventually came to New York City I realized you could find every language and every culture, even Albanian, there. It has quite a big Albanian community and some of the restaurants in Little Italy are more Albanian then Italian.
MN: How did you meet Luciano Pavarotti?
SP: When legendary tenor Luciano Pavarotti was at a spa, he asked for a singer to come and perform for him. My teacher suggested that I sing for him. Pavarotti liked me so much that he became my mentor. That was the luckiest moment of my life! I was nineteen when I started working with him. Whenever he would return home, I spoke with him. In 2001, I won the Umberto Sacchetti Competition in Bologna and the next year the Enrico Caruso competition in Milan, followed by the Tito Schipa Competition in Lecce. As a result, almost every time I spoke with Pavarotti, I had some good news to tell him.
In 2004, I got a call from Claudio Abbado’s office asking me to audition. I called Pavarotti and asked him about it. He said, “Of course you have to go and sing for him. If he doesn’t like you there’s nothing lost. If he likes you, it’s wonderful for your career.” After the audition, Abbado chose me to sing Ferrando in Mozart’s Cosi fan tutte with him in Ferrara, Emilia Romagna and Modena. Thus, I made my debut in this role where the tenor disguises himself as an Albanian! I worked on Edgardo in Lucia di Lammermoor, Alfredo in La traviata, and most of the roles I now sing, with Pavarotti. Every time he had a little time I went to Modena and he listened to me. He was a lot more than just a mentor to me.
I’ve also learned important things from other singers who are having long and meaningful careers. Some years ago the Met called and asked me to do La traviata mentioning that Diana Damrau and Placido Domingo would be singing in it. I said I don’t sing Gastone any more. Then they told me that Placido would be singing Germont! It was a great pleasure to sing with him. I’m a very lucky man. From singers like him I’ve learned that a tenor has to develop a solid technique that will carry him through several decades. Some singers only perform for a couple of years and they are done. If you are young you can have everything, a good legato and beautiful high notes for a year or two. After that comes the hard work. You will be lost if you have not developed a useable technique. You have to prepare well to have a long career and you have to take care of your voice. That comes first.
MN: Which composers’ music do you find is best for your voice?
SP: For me singing bel canto is best. Not Rossini, however, to sing his music you need a special technique. The music of the other bel canto composers, Donizetti, Bellini, etc., is best for me. The more Donizetti and Bellini I sing, the better it is for my voice. L’elisir d’amore and Lucia di Lammermoor are difficult operas but you can control your legato while singing them. If you sing Puccini you have less control. On a bad day when you are not feeling well, Puccini can be very difficult. When you are singing Donizetti, the music does not allow you to push too much, so the career of a lyric tenor who sings a great deal of Donizetti will last considerably longer.
James Conlon, who will conduct the Lucia in Los Angeles was one of the first conductors with whom I sang, so I have known him for a long time. He is one of the most important conductors that I work with. Every year or two we do something together. The first opera I did with him was Falstaff in Bologna. Then Placido Domingo asked me to come to Los Angeles to do Gianni Schicchi with Conlon. That production, directed by Woody Allen, was my United States debut. That was one of the most wonderful productions I have ever done in all my years of singing. Conlon has done a great deal for my career and I am very happy to again be with him in Los Angeles this year. In September, I will be doing Don Ottavio in Don Giovanni with him in Ravinia. Between those engagements, I go to Barcelona for concerts with Angela Gheorghiu, to Vienna for Hector Berlioz’s Messe Solennelle with Riccardo Muti, and San Francisco for Alfredo in Traviata with Nicola Luisotti.
MN: I understand that you have not done much modern opera. What would attract you to a contemporary opera?
SP: I would like modern composers to do more music and less mathematics. I would hope that new operas would follow some of the established traditions and appeal to a major part of the present opera audience. Two years from now I will do Karol Szymanowski’s King Roger with Antonio Pappano in Covent Garden. That has beautiful, interesting music. Modern composers can have bigger orchestral sounds and we have much bigger halls than in former times, but the human voice doesn’t change. The composer and the conductor still have to accommodate the size of the unamplified human voice. We need to be careful about asking people to sing over a hundred instruments playing in the pit.
MN: Can you compare the early nineteenth century orchestra with that of today?
SP: The orchestras were not nearly as big in Donizetti’s time as they are now. The tuning was much lower, then, too. Now orchestras tune higher and higher. Tenors still have the same voices they had in Donizetti’s time and I imagine we will have the same voices for the next five or six hundred years. I don’t want to be an opera singer with a microphone. Stage directors and conductors who love voices need to take care of this problem. Right now we have a lot of excellent lyric singers with beautiful voices and we need to protect them so that they are not gone in five or six years. Travel is also much different from what it was for previous generations and it, too, has an effect on the voice.
I once spoke with Nicholas Harnoncourt about these problems. He noted that it is difficult for an orchestra to play piano. It’s much easier for everyone to play forte and fortissimo. As a result, we singers are not sure we should sing pianissimo. Conductors need to remember that there are only one or two voices singing on stage while they have as many as a hundred people playing at the same time in the pit. The singers of Toscanini’s time were very careful with repertoire and conductors took care not to ask singers to push their voices beyond what was good for them.
I hope that the new emerging generation of conductors will care for the human voice. Otherwise we might end up having opera amplified like popular music. People love to attend the Met in HD and it’s wonderful that these beautiful productions can be seen around the world, but the sound of the voices in the cinema is not the same as in the house. Digital sound is always different. Sometimes the quality of the voice is better, it’s just not the same. I’m a technology man and I’m very happy with all the electronic advances. I’m just saying that we shouldn’t lose the good things we already have. We need to protect the best of existing technology while we add to it.
image=http://www.operatoday.com/Saimir_Pirgu.gif image_description=Saimir Pirgu [Photo by Fadil Berisha] product=yes product_title=Interview: Tenor Saimir Pirgu — From Albania to Italy to LA product_by=An Interview by Maria Nockin product_id=Above: Saimir Pirgu [Photo by Fadil Berisha]La Fille du regiment, Royal Opera
Laurent Pelly’s 2007 production is now in the hands of revival director Christian Räth, who also directed the 2012 revival. The production was created for Natalie Dessay and Juan Diego Florez, but since 2012 the title role has been sung by the Italian lyric soprano Patrizia Ciofi (see Claire Seymour’s review of the 2012 revival). For this revival Ciofi was joined by Florez (with two performances later in the run being sung by Frederic Antoun). Also returning to the role as Hortensius was Donald Maxwell and conductor Yves Abel was also on the podium for the 2012 revival. With so many returning performers, it is inevitable that the newcomers to their roles would be the focus of attention: Pietro Spagnoli sang Sulpice and Ewa Podles was the Marquise de Berkenfeld. But the eyes and ears of many in the audience were on Dame Kiri te Kanawa in the speaking role of the Duchesse de Crackentorp.
The New Zealand soprano celebrates her 70th birthday during the present run, and her assumption of the role of the Duchesse de Crackentorp represents her first appearance at Covent Garden since the 1996/97 season. At Covent Garden the role of the Duchesse de Crackentorp has previously been played by Dawn French and by Anne Widdicombe, but when Laurent Pelly’s production has appeared elsewhere then the Duchess has been played by both Kiri te Kanawa and Montserrat Caballe.
Ciofi made a charming Marie, she has the right combination of gamine charm and chutzpah which Pelly’s conception of the role requires. Physically Ciofi’s performance was almost hyper-active, reflecting the current conception of the production, and she is certainly a gifted comic. Natalie Dessay’s physical comedy in the role must have been a difficult act to follow, but Ciofi makes it her own. Vocally Ciofi has quite a soft grained lyric voice, which meant that the more poignant moments (such as her lovely act 2 aria) worked very well. There was plenty of fluent passagework too, and Ciofi has the gift of being able to imbue this with charm as well, she made the vocal fire-works part of the character. Her acuti sometimes seemed a little pressed and with a little too much vibrato for my taste, but she has been ill and missed part of the dress rehearsal, so it is unfair to judge.
Juan Diego Florez remains in fine form, his voice perhaps a little heavier and more solid than when he first sang the role, but he is still technically superb. Despite the lure of the famous act 1 solo with the repeated top C’s, it was his two slower arias which stick in the memory. Here Florez had a knack of slowing time, and causing the busy activity to stop. He can caress and shape a phrase without it being made to feel self-indulgent, and in these solo moments was deservedly the entire focus of attention. The role of Tonio still fits Florez stage persona well, the little-boy lost look still coming over charmingly.
Pietro Spagnoli was a delight as Sulpice with good comic timing combined with a neat way with Donizetti’s vocal line. His act one solo isn’t the best number in the opera, but Spagnoli charmed and made a fine contribution to the act two trio with Ciofi and Florez. More than that, he created a warm and very funny character.
Ewa Podles is clearly a gifted comic actress, as Marquise de Berkenfeld she used her voice to fine comic effect particularly the astounding lower register. Both vocally and in spoken dialogue she made the comedy work and set up a nice double act with Donald Maxwell’s Hortensius. Podles might now have a noticeable break in her voice, but her technique is still in fine form and there was as much to admire vocally as dramatically.
Kiri te Kanawa seemed less at ease with the comic business required, but the role was extended for her and we got to hear her performing an aria from Puccini’s Edgar which was finely done, albeit rather a strange choice in the context. The smaller roles were well taken with Bryan Secombe as the Corporal, Luke Price as a peasant and Jean-Pierre Blanchard as the Notary.
Now directed by Christian Räth , the production seems to have become almost a caricature of itself, all stylised movement, comic business and hardly any naturalism. Was Pelly’s production like this when new? I’d don’t remember it as such, but might be wrong. There is a danger, I think, of this becoming a comic caricature of a production. Most worryingly, the physical comedy seemed to be in danger of being an end in itself, rather than arising out of the music.
The orchestra was in the capable hands of Yves Abel. He and the orchestra provided fine accompaniments to the arias, but the overture did rather take a long time to catch fire.
This is the production’s third revival, that’s a total of four runs since 2007 which is quite a lot of exposure. It would make an interesting re-boot of the piece if, say, it was given in English with Anglophone actors performing the dialogue (at the moment we have a variety of nationalities performing in French), or perhaps investigate the Italian version which Donizetti himself created in 1840 (this lacks the famous top C’s of the tenor Ah mes amies, but the replacement aria is not without difficulty). I am reluctant to suggest that such a popular production be given a rest but perhaps something of a re-think is certainly in order.
Robert Hugill
Cast and production information:
Marie: Patrizia Ciofi, Tonio: Juan Diego Florez, Marquise de Berkenfeld: Ewa Podles, Sulpice: Pietro Spagnoli, Hortensius: Donald Maxwell, Corporal: Bryan Secombe, Peasant: Luke Price, Notary: Jean-Pierre Blanchard, Duchesse de Crackentorp: Kiri te Kanawa. Director: Laurent Pelly, Revival Director: Christian Räth, Dialogue: Agathe Melinand, Set Designs: Chantal Thomas, Lighting Design: Joel Adam, Choreography: Laura Scozzi. Conductor: Yves Abel. Royal Opera House, Covent Garden: 3 March 2014.
image=http://www.operatoday.com/REGIMENT-2643ashm_0456-455.gif image_description=Patrizia Ciofi as Marie and Juan Diego Flórez as Tonio [Photo © ROH / Catherine Ashmore] product=yes product_title=La Fille du regiment, Royal Opera product_by=A review by Robert Hugill product_id=Above: Patrizia Ciofi as Marie and Juan Diego Flórez as Tonio [Photo © ROH / Catherine Ashmore]March 10, 2014
Schoenberg and company
Whether that be a matter of travelling to Leipzig to see the brilliant triple-bill of Schoenberg’s one-act operas, ‘Moderne Menschen’, or missing out on Leif Ove Andsnes playing Beethoven a couple of miles away at the Barbican, Schoenberg tends to exert a special call. Whether I should have been better off ignoring the call on this occasion remains unclear. Certainly if the standard of the first half of the concert had been repeated in the second, I should have been far better off staying at home. But then a good Pierrot lunaire more or less managed to save the day.
Jane Manning remains a force of nature, having given her first broadcast performance with Pierrot almost fifty years ago, in 1965. No one is ever likely to agree — even with his or her own thoughts, let alone anyone else’s — about how this work ‘should’ be performed. It is far better to allow that different performers bring different qualities to it on different occasions. If truth be told, Manning was probably wise to downplay the sung element in her recitation. The moments, relatively few, when she moved towards song suggested, not surprisingly, a voice that had known better days. And yet, her vast experience — not just of this, but of more than 350 (!) world premieres, a good number of which would have taken inspiration from Schoenberg in one way or another — shone through nevertheless. The words and their possibilities she clearly knew backwards. (Now there is an idea for another Pierrot-ensemble piece.) She knew, in a way composers such as Luigi Nono or Helmut Lachenmann would surely have appreciated, how to make the most of vowels, consonants, the journeys between them. Above all, she appreciated and communicated the strong element of cabaret. Manning’s was in every sense a performance, and all the better for it.
Not, of course, that the reciter is all there is to Pierrot, far from it. Giora Bernstein led a highly musical account from an excellent bunch of players. Perhaps balance was tilted a little too much away from the ensemble, but we have a host of other performances in which we can savour still more strongly what Stravinsky quite rightly considered an instrumental masterpiece. There were virtues aplenty, nevertheless. The passacaglia registered as such as strongly as I can recall, Night eventually obscuring in more than one sense. Dance rhythms made their Viennese impressions without exaggeration, the ‘Heimfahrt’ an especially fine example. Benjamin Baker’s violin and viola playing was perhaps particularly impressive, perfectly attuned to shifting mood and context, but the ensemble as a whole, including Julian Jacobson’s piano, such a relief after the first half, had no weak links.
As for that first half, well… Doubtless Alberto Portugheis’s heart was in the right place. The concert seems to have been his project; he was listed as ‘curator’. But sadly, it marked a triumph of ambition over even rudimentary technical ability; this was piano-playing that would have disgraced many an amateur performance, and may well have been the worst I have heard in a professional context. The opening Zemlinsky’s 1891 Three Pieces for cello and piano would most likely have done the composer no favours in a stronger account. Apparently rediscovered recently by Raphael Wallfisch — I am placing my trust in a programme note which, in many respects, proved otherwise highly fallible — they are at best apprentice works, straining towards, yet never coming remotely close to Brahms. Here, Portugheis and, much to my surprise, Rohan de Saram sounded as if they were sight-reading. There was little or no sense of musical collaboration; indeed, the players fell noticeably out of sync on more than one occasion. De Saram fared better in Dallapiccola’s Ciaccona, Intermezzo, and Adagio, though even when playing solo, it took him a while to get into his stride, the chaconne initially hesitant. At least, though, the performance offered some sense of the stature of the piece, its dodecaphonic lyricism and structural integrity a wonderful introduction to this appallingly neglected composer.
Nono’s ¿Donde estás, hermano? was provoked — the composer spoke of his need for such a ‘provocation’ to compose, to bear witness — by the ‘disappearances’ in Argentina. The music comes from Quando stanno morendo, Diario Polacco, no.2, but here without electronics. (Not that one would have known from the programme, which bathetically informed us that Nono had ‘strongly-held political views’.) The vocal quartet — Marie Jaermann, Seljan Nasibili, Katie Coventry, and Anna Migalios — seemed excellent. Alas, their performance was compromised by Portugheis’s insistence on conducting; they would surely have better off without. Plodding and without technique, Portugheis’s contribution was summed up by his score falling off the music stand towards the end. As for his solo rendition of Gerhard’s Don Quixote dances, the first opened quite strongly. At last, I thought, we might hear something from him equating to a real performance. I should not have tempted fate. Much of the rest sounded closer to a bumbling amateur’s initial read-through. From time to time, some sense of rhythm or pulse emerged, only roundly to be defeated.
Sadly, then, I was reminded of Boulez’s observation about the self-defeating nature of the occasional performances of music by the Second Viennese School in his youth. The technical standard had been so poor that they did more harm than good, an incitement to him to mount his own performances, leading to the foundation of the Domaine musical. If only, if only…
Mark Berry
Cast and production information:
Jane Manning (reciter); Marie Jaermann, Seljan Nasibili (sopranos); Katie Coventry (mezzo-soprano); Anna Migalios (contralto); Benjamin Baker (violin/viola); Rohan de Saram (cello); Susan Milan (flute/piccolo); David Campbell (clarinets); Julian Jacobson, Alberto Portugheis (piano); Giora Bernstein (conductor). Hall One, Kings Place, London, Tuesday 4 March 2014.
image=http://www.operatoday.com/Blaues_Selbstportait.gif image_description=Arnold Schönberg: Blaues Selbstportrait, 1910 [Source: Wikipedia] product=yes product_title=Arnold Schoenberg, Pierrot lunaire, op.21, with works by Dallapiccola, Nono, and Gerhard product_by=A review by Mark Berry product_id=Above: Arnold Schönberg: Blaues Selbstportrait, 1910 [Source: Wikipedia]
March 7, 2014
Century-old music mystery solved: Long-lost opera by Spanish composer Enrique Granados located
[3 March 2014, Science Daily]
Walter Clark was a graduate student researching his dissertation when he stumbled upon a mystery that would haunt him for more than two decades: What happened to an unpublished opera written by Enrique Granados, one of Spain's greatest composers, at the turn of the 20th century?
March 6, 2014
Benjamin Britten: The Prince of the Pagodas
Premiered at Covent Garden on 1 January 1957, with choreography by John Cranko and sets by John Piper, Britten’s ballet received a mixed welcome. While the score was admired, Cranko’s scenario and choreography was less well-received, judged ‘wild and woolly’ by one critic. In 1960, Britten and Cranko had a falling out over the composer’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream and this, together with the underwhelming critical response, led to the ballet largely disappearing from the stage until 1989, when it was revived by Kenneth MacMillan, with Darcey Bussell in the principal role and Cranko’s scenario significantly revised by Colin Thubron.
The Prince of the Pagodas depicts an Emperor who, King Lear-like, ordains that his evil eldest daughter, Belle Épine, will inherit his throne, disdaining his younger child, the beautiful Belle Rose. The latter is magically transported to Pagoda Land where she meets and dances with the Salamander, who sloughs off his skin to reveal himself as the Prince of Pagoda Land. Belle Rose and the Prince return to the Emperor’s kingdom and confront Belle Épine, eventually succeeding in driving her away.
Bintley’s new version — a joint venture with the New National Theatre Tokyo and first seen in a performance by the National Ballet of Japan in Tokyo on 30 October 2011 — pays homage to a medley of literary and musical precursors, from Cinderella to The Merchant of Venice to The Magic Flute, which a dash of pantomime thrown into the mixture. As director of both National Ballet of Japan and Birmingham Royal Ballet, Bintley has aimed to create ‘a fusion of British and Japanese culture and mythologies’. He has been inspired by Japanese history — Japan’s self-imposed isolation during the Tokugawa period and the corruption of the court under Empress Épine — as well as the ukiyo-e paintings by Utagawa Kuniyoshi.
Visually it’s a luxurious feast: Rae Smith’s sets and costumes are a perfect match for the opulence of the score. Yards of swelling silk create air and grace. Lighting designer Peter Teigen wields a hypnotising palette to transport us seamlessly from the serene world of the court to more perilous and threatening terrains; and from realism to fantasy. Watching over all is a suspended Japanese moon, which casts a quiet beam upon a distant Mount Fuji. Imbued with a kaleidoscope of successful, redolent hues, this moon ultimately appears as a ripe cherry hanging pendulously amid fragile, blanched sakura. Particularly arresting are the Pagoda Land landscapes through which Princess Sakura undertakes her quest in Act 2: aquamarine underwater whirlpools transform into lurching flames, as she passes from the trial by Water to the tests of Fire.
Birmingham Royal Ballet - The Prince of the Pagodas (trailer) from Rob Lindsay on Vimeo.
In a programme article, Bintley explains that he sees Pagodas primarily as a ‘love story with no reason, purpose, conclusion or romance!’; he has aimed to make ‘another kind of love story, not expounding on the Eros type love of a man for a woman, but portraying something more mystical and subtle … the love of a girl for her brother, a father for his son and ultimately that of a family reunited after much trial and tribulation’.
Bintley transforms the malevolent Épine from sister to step-mother, while the Salamander Prince becomes Princess Sakura’s lost elder brother. Resisting her step-mother’s attempt to ‘sell’ her to the highest bidder, Sakura rejects four regal suitors and flees with the mysterious Salamander, who is both ‘fascinating and repellent’. Undergoing trials by Earth, Air, Fire and Water, Sakura finally arrives in Pagoda Land and learns of her brother’s fate: as a child, he was cursed and banished by Épine and condemned to live his days as a salamander. Sakura resolves to return home and reveal her step-mother’s treachery. Horrified by Épine’s deceit and betrayal, the Emperor expels her and father and children are joyfully re-united.
These changes have many merits. Sakura is more strongly characterised and the narrative given more focus and drive, through the introduction of the quest in Act 2. There also opportunities for additional digressions which allow for the introduction of a host of contrasting contexts and characters, and also provide ‘action’ for some of the longer musical episodes: a pas de deux in Act 1 poignantly presents Sakura’s memory of happier times when her brother was alive; three young child dancers — Natalie Rooney, Cameron-James Bailey and Jake Tang — touchingly enact the Salamander’s revelation.
Perhaps the balance between pathos and humour is not quite right, though, leaning too far in favour of the comic. So, at the start, rather than establishing an air of mourning as Sakura weeps for her dead sibling, Bintley perches the Court Fool (Tzu-Chao Chou) on the front edge of the stage, dangling and swinging her legs, teasing the orchestra — their warm-up snatches of other masterworks of the ballet repertoire met with her firm, opinionated rejection. The Fool welcomes the conductor, invites our applause and guides us into the royal court. This mime sequence prompts audience chuckles but the flippant mood feels out of place in juxtaposition with the snatched view we are offered of the salamander, coiled within an imposing Japanese urn, and does not clearly elucidate the ‘back-story’.
Similarly, some of the characterisation was a little too pantomime-esque. For example, Rory Mackay’s Emperor was convincingly aged and ailed; grieving for his lost daughter, he languished into decrepitude, the crouching Fool providing a useful bench for his fading, falling master. The rapid restoration of the old man’s vigour upon Sakura’s return raised a wry smile, but overall the Emperor seemed to me to lack a certain dignity and true authority, such as one would expect of one who wields absolute power.
And, complementing the refined gliding of geishas and imperial ministers in the ensembles at court, and the ballet grace of the samurai-inspired fight scenes, Bintley also offers more light-hearted set-pieces; but while the winsome wriggles of camp crabs, the buoyant leaps of sea horses and the comic waddling of spear-clutching, bulge-eyed monsters showcased Rae’s wonderful costumes and deepened the mood of fantastical enchantment, the ‘seriousness’ of Sakura’s quest was at times lost beneath the surface diversions.
But, these are small misgivings. Taken together it’s a tremendous show and the dancing at this performance was uniformly impressive. As the Salamander Prince, Mathias Dingman was seductively sinuous, lithe and supple; and, Dingman was equally notable when in role as the Prince, his gestures regal and elegant, but infused with warmth and generosity of spirit. Momoko Hirata beautifully conveyed Sakura’s delicate melancholy in the opening act, then captured her energy and purposefulness in Act 2, before Sakura’s sense of wonder and spirit of adventure were replaced by a growing maturity and grace in the final Act. Momoko’s movements and gestures were gentle but always clearly defined, suggesting the purity and simplicity of the innocent princess.
As Belle Épine, Elisha Willis conjured an arrogant hauteur, combining elegance and power. The four suitors all proved themselves masters of characterisation. The King of the North (Oliver Till) executed a vibrant Cusack-dance, all restrained power and poise, while as the King of the East (William Bracewell, standing in for Chi Cao who was indisposed moments before curtain-up) coiled and curled as the snake-charming rajah. James Barton’s King of the West — glitteringly attired, a cross between Uncle Sam and P. T. Barnum, deftly twirling baton and rifle — demonstrated a superb rhythmic ‘snappiness’ and dazzling showmanship, executing many a perfectly timed flick of the head or strut of the shoulders. The powerful angularity of Yasuo Atsuji’s tribal dance gestures, coupled with a resplendent African head-dress, made him a foreboding King of the South. The emphasis was more upon the Kings as individuals than upon their interaction with the two princesses, as Epine parades her sister before the suitors in a mercenary matrimonial auction, but the characterisation was engaging and the decision to bring the monarchs back, donning devilish red, to torment Sakura during the trial by fire was a well-judged one.
Conductor Paul Murphy makes much of the riches of Britten’s ‘fairy-tale’ score, the complex textures and evocative timbres of which were inspired by the gamelan music which Britten heard while undertaking a tour of the Far East with Peter Pears during winter 1955 to spring 1956. Tempi were supportive of the dancers, and the Royal Ballet Sinfonia exploited the exoticisms of the score to tell the story persuasively. The moments of ceremony were full of striking panache, while the wispy, fantastical depictions of Pagoda Land created a mood of mystery. Soloists relished the driving lyricism of Britten’s melodies.
The final divertissement on the theme of Love and Freedom is overly long but well-executed. Overall, Bintley fully captures the ‘escapism’ of Britten’s ballet, and charms us into a world of delight and enchantment. The Birmingham Royal Ballet will tour to Theatre Royal Plymouth (19 - 22 March) and London Coliseum (26 - 29 March). Catch it if you can.
Claire Seymour
Cast and production information:
Princess Belle Sakura, Momoko Hirata; The Salamander Prince, Mathias Dingman; Empress Épine, Elisha Willis; The Emperor, Rory Mackay; King of the North, Oliver Till; King of the East, Will Bracewell; King of the West, James Barton; King of the South, Yasuo Atsuji; Fool, Tzu-Chao Chou; Official, Jonathan Payn; Choreographer, David Bintley; Designs, Rae Smith; Lighting, Peter Teigen; Conductor, Peter Murphy; Royal Ballet Sinfonia. Birmingham Hippodrome, Saturday 1st March 2014.
image=http://www.operatoday.com/31523_s.gif image_description=Jenna Roberts as Princess Belle Sakura and William Bracewell as the Salamander Prince [Photo by Bill Cooper] product=yes product_title=Benjamin Britten: The Prince of the Pagodas product_by=A review by Claire Seymour product_id=Above: Jenna Roberts as Princess Belle Sakura and William Bracewell as the Salamander Prince [Photo by Bill Cooper]March 4, 2014
North Star
By Kristine Opolais [Classical Singer, March 2014]
It sounds like a fairy tale. A beautiful young girl sings a song, a handsome listener falls in love with her, and in a blink of an eye she becomes a star. Now they travel the world, making music together.
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Reports of the Death of Opera Have Been Greatly Exaggerated
By Georgeanne [Opera Vivra, 5 March 2014]
“Yeah, but isn’t opera a dying art form?”
You can’t browse any classical music blog or arts news section without encountering a thinkpiece on the slow, painful death of opera. These (typically) well-written articles cite sagging ticket sales, shorter seasons, fewer opera companies. They ask readers if an art form with its roots in the late 16th century has any relevance to today’s audiences.
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Werther or not
By Zerbinetta [Likely Impossibilities, 4 March 2014]
Massenet's Werther has always been a slow burn opera for me: it’s modest, quiet, it starts slowly. But at some point I notice that it’s got me, and it doesn’t let go. This Met production takes far longer to exert its pull than it should, but it more or less gets there anyway.
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Arizona Opera Presents La Traviata as Violetta’s Dream
She remembered the party at which she first met Alfredo as a study in shades of red. The scene at her country home was all in light neutrals while Flora’s party was held amongst dark shades that portended darker events.
The libretto for Verdi’s La traviata is based on the life of Alphonsine Rose Plessis, a French “call girl” who changed her name to Marie and mixed with upper class men in the early years of the nineteenth century. Verdi first called the opera Violetta after the name he and librettist Francesco Maria Piave gave the title character, but the more disparaging term Traviata or fallen woman better fit the mindset of the time. Piave based the libretto on the text of the play, La dame aux Camélias. The play grew out of a novel by Alexandre Dumas, fils, who had actually known the woman. Franz Liszt knew her, too, as did many artists of the time, because she was well read and a good conversationalist.
In truth, Marie had little schooling, but combined physical beauty with a natural refinement. An English gentleman recalling her said, "Her inbred tact and instinctive delicacy compensated for a totally inadequate education. Whatever she recognized as admirable in her friends she strove to master herself, so that her natural appeal was enhanced by the flower of her intelligence." She died of tuberculosis at the age of twenty-three. After a lavish funeral at the church of La Madeleine, her possessions were auctioned off, her debts were paid, and her sister Delphine inherited enough money to open a modest shop.
Mark Walters as Germont asks Caitlin Lynch as Violetta to leave Alfredo.
It is up to the stage director to decide which of the various aspects of this young woman’s life to show. Nashville Opera Artistic Director John Hoomes set the opera as Violetta’s dying dream, so colors and other aspects of design were symbolic and bright. She remembered the party at which she first met Alfredo as a study in shades of red. The scene at her country home was all in light neutrals while Flora’s party was held amongst dark shades that portended darker events. Hoomes’ production has also been seen at Opera Colorado and Boston Lyric Opera.
Soprano Caitlin Lynch, familiar to the Arizona Opera audience because she had already sung two Mozart heroines with the company, exhibited her ability to sing precise and accurate coloratura in the first act of La traviata. Although the role was new to her, she went on to imbue the more lyrical later acts with floods of gorgeous tone, while her interpretation of the character brought out the handkerchiefs in the scene with the elder Germont and at the end. Tenor Adriano Graziani was a handsome Alfredo whose interpretation was effective, but he had occasional problems staying in tune. Baritone Mark Walters had no such difficulty. His Germont was robust and as judgmental as only a nineteenth century self-righteous bourgeois gentleman could be. Best of all, he sang with burnished unwavering tones.
David Margulis was a jack-of-all-trades in this performance. He sang, he danced, and he played the part of “El Toro” in a faux bullfight. A second year member of the Marion Roose Pullin Opera Studio, he will probably be a valuable character tenor in future years. Chris Carr was an impressive Baron Douphol and a plausible threat to Alfredo. As Flora, Beth Lytwynec was quite the dominatrix in her half skirt over pants and boots. Stefan Gordon sang the Marquis d’Obigny with a polished sound. Calvin Griffin was a sonorous Doctor and Andrea Shokery a submissive Annina. Conductor Steven White led a brisk reading of Verdi’s score with a huge dynamic range. When necessary, he held the orchestral sound down to allow the artists on stage to produce their tones with ease and he always allowed them any necessary leeway.
Maria Nockin
Cast and production information:
Violetta Valéry, Caitlin Lynch; Alfredo Germont, Adriano Graziani; Giorgio Germont, Mark Walters; Gastone, David Margulis1; Baron Duphol, Chris Carr1; Marchese d’Obigny, Stefan Gordon1; Dr. Grenvil, Calvin Griffin1; Flora Bervoix, Beth Lytwynnec1; Annina, Andrea Shokery1; Giuseppe, Francisco Renteria; Messenger, Earl Hazell; Flora’s Servant, Greg Guenther; Conductor, Steven White; Director, John Hoomes; Chorus Master, Henri Venanzi; Choreographer, Michele Ceballos Michot; Lighting Designer, Douglas Provost.
1Marion Roose Pullin Studio Artist
image=http://www.operatoday.com/Traviata_AZ_2014_02.gif
image_description=Adriano Graziani as Alfredo and Caitlin Lynch as Violetta in the final scene. [Photo by Tim Trumble]
product=yes
product_title=Arizona Opera Presents La Traviata as Violetta’s Dream
product_by=A review by Maria Nockin
product_id=Above: Adriano Graziani as Alfredo and Caitlin Lynch as Violetta in the final scene.
Photos by Tim Trumble
Elisir d’amore in Monte-Carlo
Actually it was not Chernobyl, the tip-off being the 7 meters diameter tractor wheel, mud hanging off of the lower treads. Then a thrown-away tuna fish can crashed onto the stage and rolled center, from which emerged Belcore with the old trick of how many whatever-they-weres could possibly emerge from a tuna fish can. We indeed had delighted smiles on our faces.
This was the lilliputian Elisir d’amore! Tiny, magical creatures acted out this bit of sentimental commedia del’arte residue underneath a wheat field somewhere in Switzerland (the production comes from Lausanne). Given it was magical the Belcore creature was part Samurai (the wig) and part Swiftian general. Dulcamara arrived atop a contraption that was totally fantastic, maybe a sort of rolling still though he seemed some sort of crazed Swiftian magistrate in his red robe and weird wig.
It was a splendidly realized concept. The slender wheat stalks could actually be scaled, and were by five or so acrobats evoking wonder amongst us spectators. For some reason there was a boy and girl, eight year olds maybe, who rushed on stage from time to time to act out bits of puppy love. Besides the rats, birds as well as a life sized horse, i.e. about ten meters high (all we could see were the legs), meandered across the back of the stage usually during the arias and duets — the wonders of very skillful projections.
Dulcamara atop his wagon, tuna fish can, tire and wheat. Photo courtesy of the Opéra de Monte-Carlo
What, you may ask, has all this to do with Donizetti’s opera? The answer is nothing. It was an extravaganza of concept and hard-headed exploitation of contemporary digital techniques. Placed on the stage by a team of Italians, stage director Adriano Sinivia, set designer Christian Taraborrelli, and costume designer Enzio Iorio this was a stand alone theater piece that used a bel canto masterpiece as an excuse to imagine a far-fetched digital video game.
Donizetti’s opera is neither a fairytale for children with hidden meanings for adults nor a Swiftian satire of rural morality. It is a simple love story told very directly — love overcomes all obstacles if you sing well enough and long enough. Actually the cast assembled by the Opéra de Monte-Carlo did sing well enough but even so could not overcome the obstacle of this production. It was a long evening that left us indifferent to all this sophisticated human talent and effort.
While the Opéra de Monte-Carlo had the esteemed Orchestre Philharmonique de Monte-Carlo in the pit it had French contralto Nathalie Stulzmann on the podium who had not a clue about bel canto musicality — a musicality that allows time to stand still so you can elegantly feel how you feel. Define it how you may it will never be driving the music hard and fast with an authority that is above that of the singers. Musically the evening was a willful display of conductorial insensitivity.
George Petean as Belcore, Stefan Pop as Nemorino. Photo courtesy of the Opéra de Monte-Carlo
It is enlightening to know that Angela Gheorghiu is not the only singer to come out of Romania. The Opéra de Monte-Carlo found three more excellent artists. Twenty-eight year-old tenor Stefan Pop made a roly poly Nemorino who gave a skillful account of his aria — maybe the only moment of the evening not sabotaged by directorial gloss — and in general convincingly portrayed a country bumpkin with a sophisticated vocal technique. Baritone George Petean was a roly poly Belcore who gave it his all though it seemed too much, fault maybe of his silly wig or his feeling that his was a hopeless character in this lilliputian satire so he had to try to make something of it. Bass Adrian Sampetrean on the other hand rose above his ridiculous wig and assumed a genuine authority that you probably do not want from this shyster, fault maybe of the conductress who did not try to reign him in to become Donizetti’s charming con man.
Italian ingenue soprano Mariangela Sicilia was the spunky, too spunky Adina who sang quite well, though her knowing attitude and knowing vocal technique is not yet finished to the degree that she can settle with confidence into character and sail securely above it all with unflappable technique. It will come. The Giannini of Parisian soprano Vannina Santoni was a larger than usual character and an appreciated component of the larger ensembles.
It was unclear whether the generous applause was relief that it was over, appreciation of good singing, or evidence that the Monegasques (those who reside in Monaco) are willing to reward even bad conducting.
Michael Milenski
Casts and production information:
Adina: Mariangela Sicilia; Nemorino: Stefan Pop; Belcore: George Petean; Dulcamara: Adrian Sampetrean; Giannetta: Vannina Santoni. Chorus of the Opéra de Monte-Carlo and Orchestre Philharmonique de Monte-Carlo. Conductor: Nathalie Stutzmann; Mise en scène: Adriano Sinivia; Scenery: Christian Taraborrelli; Costumes: Enzo Iorio; Lighting: Fabrice Kebour. Salle Garnier, Monte-Carlo, February 26, 2014.
image=http://www.operatoday.com/Elisir_MonacoOT1.png
product=yes
product_title=L'Elisir d'amore in Monaco
product_by=A review by Michael Milenski
product_id=Above: Stefan Pop as Nemorino, Mariangela Sicilia as Adina [Photo courtesy of the Opéra de Monte-Carlo]
March 3, 2014
Torn Between Rival Loyalties
A full-ish house for the first night seemed from the start inclined to be indulgent and supportive (does a Friday night after a long week in the office in London help a new production? Discuss......) and was helped along by what sounded suspiciously like a small claque cheering from the very first da capo aria (“let’s get this lot going chaps”?) without, it has to be said, that much cause at that particular moment.
John Mark Ainsley as Grimoaldo
Never mind, the audience did not need much further encouragement to applaud as we were that night treated to one of the finest expositions of handelian singing across the vocal spectrum that we’ve heard for quite a while. A superb collection of the best British singing talent gathered under one roof to show the world how Handel should — ought — to be sung. John Mark Ainsley, (Grimoaldo), Susan Bickley (Eduige), Iestyn Davies (Bertarido), and Rebecca Evans (Rodelinda) took on the leading roles in this tale of loyalty, power, love and lust and gave full measure at every turn. They were supported no less ably by Richard Burkhard (Garibaldo), Christopher Ainslie (Unulfo) and Matt Casio (a non singing, but certainly acting Flavio). One could spend paragraphs praising each performer’s intelligent and musical interpretations, but suffice to say that there was not one weak link in this chain of excellence although inevitably both Evans and Davies, as chief protagonists and with the most sublime and ferocious arias to their credit, did receive the loudest and longest ovations come the end of three plus hours of Mr Handel at his best. And each singer of course supported by the dash, drive and commitment to baroque style that Christian Curnyn supplied from the pit.
I mentioned loyalty as a major driver in the plot: it came through again and again both within the personal relationships of the characters and in their wider political and philosophical concerns but it was loyalty much closer to home which worried this writer most. One wishes only success and financial security for English National Opera as it goes forward from some pretty torrid times; one wishes that Handel’s greatest works should become loved by ever larger audiences in ever more numerous productions; one wishes that more opera house orchestras could adapt as stylishly to baroque details as does ENO’s; and one wishes our British theatrical production talents ever more plaudits both here and overseas as they bring new ideas and angles to old favourites. However, the elephant in the room on Friday night, it must be said, was this very thing. Peter Jones has already garnered many plaudits for his theatrical insight and challenging productions around the world, but on leaving the theatre on Friday night it became clear that this production was splitting people down the middle.
A scene from Rodelinda
A straw poll aftewards produced extremes of reaction: “marvellous, clever, thought-provoking” at one end and “poor singers, how did they produce such excellence within such dire, distracting drivel?” at the other. To be fair, he and his team did (mostly) give the singers both space and focus on the stage for their big numbers; it was all the stuff in between that in this writer’s opinion was either indulgent, patronising or plain wrong. Once again, poor Mr Handel has suffered from a director’s inability to trust the music, an inability to understand that emotion, conflict and psychological evolution is already there — on the score, within the bars and notes, riding on the swell and trough of fine singing. Others will disagree, no doubt; some will say it’s a modern masterpiece; only the audiences of the future will decide and let’s hope they do in droves. What is without doubt is that Rodelinda will survive it all and with singers as good as we heard in the Coliseum we can rest assured that Mr Handel will always have the last word.
Sue Loder
Until 15 March. Tickets: 020 7845 9300; www.eno.org
image=http://www.operatoday.com/ENO-Rodelinda-2014_01.gif image_description=ENO Rodelinda 2014 - Iestyn Davies, Rebecca Evans (c) Clive Barda product=yes product_title=Torn Between Rival Loyalties product_by=A review by Sue Loder product_id=Above: Iestyn Davies as Bertarido and Rebecca Evans as RodelindaPhotos © Clive Barda
March 2, 2014
San Diego Opera’s Elixir of Love
He told the story in an easily understandable manner and gave the singers a great deal of comedy that kept the action moving forward.
Gaetano Donizetti often wrote his operas in an amazingly short time. He and librettist Felice Romani wrote L’elisir d’amore (The Elixir of Love) in six weeks, using a translation of Eugène Scribe’s libretto for Daniel Auber’s Le Philtre, (The Potion) as a model. They made the Italian opera more romantic than its French relative with the introduction of what is now the best-known aria in the piece, “Una Furtiva Lagrima”, and the addition of a duet for Adina and Nemorino in Act I.
Donizetti must have felt a personal relationship with the character of Nemorino because a wealthy lady had once bought him out of an army contract. The opera’s premiere at the Teatro della Canobbiana in Milan on May 12, 1832, was a tremendous success and L’Elisir became the most often performed opera in Italy between 1838 and 1848. According to Operabase, it is still one of the world’s most frequently performed operas.
On Sunday afternoon, February 23, 2014, San Diego Opera presented The Elixir of Love in a traditional production by Stephen Lawless that had also been seen in Geneva and Los Angeles. He told the story in an easily understandable manner and gave the singers a great deal of comedy that kept the action moving forward. Johan Engels’ set showed the inside of a large barn with many doors that open up onto farmland growing hay and flowers. Thus, most of the action took place in the barn at the front of the stage. Engels’ artfully detailed costumes set the action firmly in the nineteenth century.
Giuseppe Filianoti as Nemorino with chorus
As Nemorino, Giuseppe Filianoti was a lovable, totally unsophisticated country boy who gets into some thoroughly amusing slapstick situations. He looked adorable and proved to be a fine actor, but at this performance his intonation was a serious problem. The Adina, Tatiana Lisnic had no such drawbacks. She hit all the notes correctly while giving a passionate portrayal of the young, attractive landowner. Remember her name. She is a fine talent from whom more great performances can be expected. I hope she will soon again sing in California.
This edition of the score gave Adina’s friend Giannetta more music than usual to sing and Stephanie Weiss sang it to good advantage. Malcolm MacKenzie has a powerful baritone voice with distinctive colors and it underscored his amusing portrayal of the strutting, self-important Sergeant Belcore. Kevin Burdette was a rather different Dr. Dulcamara. Instead of the usual portly basso buffo, this patent medicine salesman was tall, lean, and always ready to run away when someone started to uncover his larcenous ways. He sang with robust tones and his fast patter was a joy to hear.
Charles Prestinari’s chorus sang with delightful harmonies as they moved in small groups to give the impression of farmers, soldiers and townspeople. American conductor Karen Kamensek, music director of Staatsoper Hanover, is a powerhouse on the podium. She opened with brisk tempi and kept the performance moving. The comedy never lagged but the singers always had the leeway they needed to be at their best. She is a fine addition to San Diego Opera and I hope they will have her back soon. Although this was not a perfect performance, it was a a good one that kept the audience interested and amused for a wonderful Sunday afternoon.
Maria Nockin
Cast and production information:
Gianetta, Stephanie Weiss; Nemorino, Giuseppe Filianoti; Adina, Tatiana Lisnic; Sergeant Belcore, Malcolm MacKenzie; Dr. Dulcamara, Kevin Burdette; Conductor, Karen Kamensek; Director, Stephen Lawless; Set and Costume Design, Johan Engels; Lighting Design, Joan /sulliven-Genthe; Chorus Master Charles F. Prestinari.
image=http://www.operatoday.com/ELX_fil%2C%20lis%2C%20mac%202075.png
image_description=Giuseppe Filianoti as Nemorino, Malcolm MacKenzie as Belcore and Tatiana Lisnic as Adina [Photo by Cory Weaver]
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product_title=San Diego Opera’s Elixir of Love
product_by=A review by Maria Nockin
product_id=Above: Giuseppe Filianoti as Nemorino, Malcolm MacKenzie as Belcore and Tatiana Lisnic as Adina
Photos by Cory Weaver
LA Opera Presents a Parable of Good and Evil
His nemesis, Master-at-Arms John Claggart, played by the equally charismatic Greer Grimsley, hates him because of it. The director could have introduced a homoerotic element of hatred born of rejection, but she chose not to. Instead, the evil Claggart is a first cousin to Verdi and Shakespeare’s Iago.
Herman Melville’s works have become the basis for two modern operas, Benjamin Britten’s 1951 Billy Budd and Jake Heggie’s 2010 Moby Dick. When Melville died in 1891, he left the novella Billy Budd unfinished, so it was not published until 1924. His first biographer, Raymond Weaver, unearthed its manuscript when he read through Melville's papers. In 1951, a play made from the novella by Louis Coxe and Robert Chapman was a major success on Broadway. That same year saw the premiere of Benjamin Britten’s opera, which has a libretto by English novelist E. M. Forster who worked with frequent Britten collaborator, Eric Crozier.
Richard Croft as Captain Vere
The title role was intended for Geraint Evans, but he found its tessitura too high. At the opera’s monumentally successful premiere at Covent Garden on December 1, 1951, Theodore Uppman sang Budd and Evans sang Mr. Flint. The performance received seventeen curtain calls and rave reviews.
The current Los Angeles Opera production by Francesca Zambello was first seen at London’s Covent Garden on May 30, 1995. Los Angeles Opera originally mounted her austere, relatively traditional production in 2000 and brought it back on February 22, 2014, under the direction of Julia Pevzner. Alison Chitty’s set is a steeply raked, angular deck that can be raised to reveal a crew area below. Above the deck is a slanted mast with an arm that becomes reminiscent of a cross when Billy stretches his arms out on it.
Billy, portrayed by handsome lyric tenor Liam Bonner, is a charismatic embodiment of innocence. His nemesis, Master-at-Arms John Claggart, played by the equally charismatic Greer Grimsley, hates him because of it. The director could have introduced a homoerotic element of hatred born of rejection, but she chose not to. Instead, the evil Claggart is a first cousin to Verdi and Shakespeare’s Iago.
Caught in the middle of this drama is the ship’s captain, Vere, beautifully sung and movingly interpreted by Richard Croft. He is seen as an old man in both the prologue and the epilogue. He is still uneasy looking back on his role in Billy’s conviction and execution at sea for assaulting a superior officer. That is Britten’s way of expressing his discontent with the harsh laws of wartime. This production pulled the drama taut and propelled the action forward. Many singers created notable character portrayals in this performance. Greg Fedderly was a raucous Red Whiskers, James Creswell a wise Dansker, and Anthony Michaels-Moore an obsequious Redburn. Members of the Los Angeles Opera chorus sang with precise harmony while making the audience realize how many hundreds of men it took to man sailing ships.
Although the opera does not send the audience out humming its tunes, it is consummate music drama and the orchestra makes the audience feel Billy’s pain when he is betrayed. Britten’s sophisticated musical structure sets the listener up for the coup de grace, Billy’s inability to speak at the crucial moment and his resulting assault on Claggart. The composer has created an evocative phrase for each thing that happens in the opera and conductor James Conlon brought them all out with the brilliant colors and the stark clarity of the score. Conlon was the prime mover for bringing more Britten to Los Angeles and with this performance he demonstrated the powerful emotional appeal of that composer’s work.
Maria Nockin
Cast and production information:
Billy Budd, Liam Bonner; Captain Edward Vere, Richard Croft; John Claggart, Greer Grimsley; Mr. Redburn, Anthony Michaels-Moore; Mr. Flint, Daniel Sumegi; Lieutenant Ratcliffe, Patrick Blackwell; Red Whiskers, James Creswell; Bosun, Craig Colclough; Novice, Keith Jameson; First Mate, Paul LaRosa; Second Mate, Daniel Armstrong; Novice's Friend, Valentin Anikin; Maintop, Vladimir Dmitruk; Squeak, Matthew O'Neill; Cabin Boy, Rory Hemmings; Conductor, James Conlon; Production, Francesca Zambello; Director, Julia Pevzner; Set and Costume Design, Alison Chitty; Lighting, Alan Burrett; Chorus Master, Grant Gershon; Fight Director, Ed Douglas.
image=http://www.operatoday.com/BBdd4058p.png
image_description=Greer Grimsley as John Claggart and Liam Bonner as Billy Budd. [Photo by Robert Millard]
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product_title=Los Angeles Opera Presents a Parable of Good and Evil
product_by=A review by Maria Nockin
product_id=Above: Greer Grimsley as John Claggart and Liam Bonner as Billy Budd
Photos by Robert Millard