Barbara Dobrzanksa continues to go from strength to considerable strength in
the title role, with her secure soprano now assuming all the trappings of a
thrilling spinto performer. Let’s cut to the chase: The Divine
Miss D scored a triumph — personal, professional, artistic, musical
— think of a category, and she nailed it. Her searing top notes rang out
in the house, the chest tones were dramatic and solid, and her floated phrases
and occasional messa di voce effects were nigh unto faultless. This
supremely intelligent artist commands a reliable technique that not only allows
for great nuance of utterance and phrasing, but also finds her as fresh-voiced
at the finale as when the show began. When has any Gioconda tossed off the
sudden coloratura flirting with Barnaba in the closing pages with such
self-assured Èlan? (Pace, Maria.)
Let me go out on a limb here: there is possibly no singer currently
performing the part that is in quite the same league as this Karlsruhe star.
Why the theatre feels it must bring in Violeta Urmana (whom I do like) for an
upcoming “gala” performance is beyond me. Barbara could probably be
singing this and many other roles on world stages any time she wants. The local
Publikum should (and does) rejoice in the fact that their Diva is a home
body.
Her accomplishment was wonderfully partnered by Keith Ikaia-Purdy’s
ringing Enzo. But stentorian singing of the high order is not his only asset,
for Mr. I-P is above all else a supremely sensitive interpreter of the
multi-faceted moods of the text. Without crooning he can scale back his sizable
tenor to craft phrases of melting beauty, infused with great meaning. Moreover,
his Italianate styling is well-judged and idiomatic. It is bittersweet to note
that this run of Gioconda’s will mark Keith’s final scheduled
appearances with the company. He will be missed in Karlsruhe. In the meantime,
we reveled in his professionalism and craft, including a lovingly shaped,
haunting “Cielo e Mar.”
Sabina Willeit [Photo by Jochen Klenk]
The evening’s true show stopping set piece, however, belonged to
Dobrzanska and her Laura, the glamorous mezzo Sabina Willeit. Their heated Act
I duet escalated to a fever pitch of sizzling singing and supremely bitchy
confrontation, and the audience erupted like a group of opera-crazed Italians
in an appreciative response. That ovation might be going on still had the
conductor not finally urged things along. Ms. Willeit is another fine company
asset, possessed of a throbbing, communicative instrument, somewhat bright with
a wide range and considerable allure. As her husband Alvise, house favorite
Konstantin Gorny did not disappoint. His familiar orotund bass rolled out to
blanket the auditorium, and his sensible phrasing and reliable musicianship
provided all that was wanted.
Anna Maria Dur contributed an affecting Cieca. Though not particularly
matronly in demeanor (like Chookasian) nor voice (like Dunn), Ms. Dur suggested
a frail, quirky mother eerily in the mold of “Six Feet
Under’s” Frances Conroy. Her meaty mezzo was by turns plangent,
urgent, and excitable as required and she found much variety in her relatively
brief stage time. Walter Donati is a sturdy and stirring Barnaba. Mr.
Donati’s career is somewhat a marvel, since he began as a successful
tenor, switching mid-point to baritone and bringing with that an exceptional
clarity of tone all the while having found a true baritonal core and timbre.
And at 70+, he sounds more youthful and vibrant than most singers half his age.
This is not the bullying, blustering Barnaba often encountered, but rather
intensely focused and beautifully couched for maximum Slime Factor and dramatic
impact.
Any house would be proud to have fielded this top notch sextet of soloists,
who almost performed the feat of making you forget that when it came to the
production, there was no “there” there. Sometimes a spare scenic
design can focus the drama, and sometimes, as here, “less” is just
“less.” Actually, make that…”least.”
Is there any locale more atmospheric and evocative than Venice. (That was
rhetorical: No. Except maybe Bruges.) And yet set designer Siegfried E. Mayer
found “gar nichts” to suggest the slightest hint of La Serenissima.
In fact, let me be blunt. All he came up with was a butt-ugly set of orchestra
risers surrounded by a box set of reflective walls that had all the beauty of a
fading 50’s concert hall in Brno, and all the charm of a bus terminal in
Tenafly. Mr. Mayer shared credit with Annegret Ritzel for a hodge-podge of
costumes that seemed to have Fascist leanings, a look that was already tired
out in German theatres in the 80’s.
Gioconda’s get-up was a cross between Sally Bowles in a trench coat
and Lotte Lenya in Pierrette drag. Enzo (who is supposed to be incognito)
sported a can’t-miss-him dazzling white sailor uniform that made him look
like Pinkerton took a wrong turn from the dressing room. Poor Barnaba fared
worst, looking as sinister as a Fasching reveler with a costume thrown
together from the closet: flowered muumuu culottes, tux jacket with clownish
white satin lapels, and a bird’s head hat like the god Horus as
interpreted by South Park. And he was in white face. Laura first
sported a black tailored jacket and Frederick’s of Hollywood metallic
slip, then a flowered gown that just didn’t hang right (was it
backwards?). Why the chorus women were look-alike Jean Harlow’s in Act IV
is anybody’s guess.
Nor were any of these visuals helped in any way by Gerd Meier’s dismal
lighting plot which seemed to have been created to keep the singers’
faces in as much darkness as possible. Alvise sang his entire second aria
un-illuminated except by back-light until the final two bars when he wandered
(by mistake?) into an area light down right. (I had the feeling that Herr Meier
was somewhere hissing “My God, fools, his face is lit! Turn that light
off! Turn it off!”) Note to all “designers:” it is not about
you! The design elements should only exist to help the performers create their
characters, and to tell the author’s story. Not “your”
story…”the” story. When a light design robs the performer of
the ability to communicate with the audience (“Two eyes to two
eyes” as Martha Graham said) then you have made a bad lighting design.
When you make the sinister baritone look like an inexplicable buffoon, you have
made a bad costume design. When you fail to visually evoke any sense of time or
place or intent, you have made a bad set design. Punkt!
Flavio Salamanka’s eccentric choreography of the famous “Dance
of the Hours” was enthusiastically applauded, although its overall impact
somewhat eluded me. The Karlsruhe corps boasts wonderful young female dancers
to be sure and they threw themselves with skill and gusto into the concept of
having an Adonis-like (sole) ballerino invading their regimented world. The
scenario “seemed” to be about eschewing totalitarianism. As the
girls stripped away their regimental jackets, and then their long black tulle
skirts they did so with considerable more dramatic propulsion than was
otherwise present in the longish evening. But while the steps and combinations
were clever enough, and the groupings and intent sincere, the overall impact of
the piece seemed pleasantly generic but dramatically neutral.
Ulrich Wagner’s chorus was polished and full-throated but did the
entire group have to be trapped on stage for virtually the whole show for no
good reason? They sat around on the risers in various vague groupings, trying
to look interested, trying to stay in character and ultimately failing at both
pursuits. Sorry to say Annegret Ritzel proved to be a better costume designer
than director, for while her attire was variable it at least showed that she
had made some choices. In her unfocused direction she seemed to avoid choices
at all costs. Characters wandered at will. Actors didn’t look at each
other or relate. Scenes meant to have characters in close proximity found them
on opposite sides of the stage. And then there was the omnipresent bored chorus
for the soloists to navigate around. I had the distinct feeling the experienced
principals were doing their damndest to fill in the vast directorial blanks.
Attilio Tomasello took over the baton for the rest of the run with largely
excellent results. The Karlsruhe pit is peopled by a superb group of musicians,
and they had a very good night indeed. Maestro Tomasello deviated from a few
standard choices of tempi with this phrase a bit slower, that phrase a bit
faster, and yet another passage a lot slower, etc. but he partnered well enough
with his singers and displayed secure control of the many large ensembles. I
found the polished reading just shy of the passionate Italianate incisiveness
that would have taken this Ponchielli pot-boiler to the ultimate level, with
the strings, though assured, a little cool.
All told, it is always a pleasure to encounter this seldom-performed piece,
especially a performance with such an exceptional International-level cast. But
really, if you are going to go to such great lengths to make it look for all
the world like a half-baked concert version, for God’s sake get all the
crap out of the way, put the accomplished band, chorus and soloists on the
stage and … just plain do it as a concert version. We would have been
far better off.
James Sohre
image=http://www.operatoday.com/Dobrzanska.gif
image_description=Barbara Dobrzanska [Photo by Jochen Klenk]
product=yes
product_title=Amilcare Ponchielli: La Gioconda
product_by=La Gioconda: Barbara Dobrznaska; Laura Adorno: Sabina Willeit; Alvise Badoero: Konstantin Gorny; La Cieca: Anna Maria Dur; Enzo Grimaldo: Keith Ikaia-Purdy; Barnaba: Walter Donati; Zu‡ne: Alexander de Paula; IsËpo: Sebastian Haake. Conductor: Attilio Tomasello. Director: Annegret Ritzel. Set Design: Siegfried E. Mayer. Costume Design: Annegret Ritzel and Siegfried E. Mayer. Choreography: Flavio Salamanka. Chorus Master: Ulrich Wagner. Lighting Design: Gerd Meier.
product_id=Above: Barbara Dobrzanska [Photo by Jochen Klenk]