Category: Performances

Il y a trois ans, l’Arabella de Richard Strauss mise en scène par Peter Mussbach avait été l’un des points culminants de la saison du Châtelet, mais avait divisé les esprits : certains avaient taxé de froideur le décor étonnant d’Erich Wonder, regrettant sans doute le rococo viennois. C’était oublier que le livret, laissé inachevé par Hofmannsthal, mort d’une apoplexie alors qu’il mettait son chapeau pour se rendre à l’enterrement de son fils, n’a strictement plus rien des stucs du Chevalier à la rose, mais éclaire avec cruauté le monde moderne des années 20 et sa décomposition sociale. Tout cela, ce hall de grand magasin avec ses escalators à l’endroit et à l’envers, le dit aussi bien que des personnages dont le rang social s’effrite sous l’assaut des névroses. Non seulement le spectacle n’a pas vieilli, mais il a gagné en concentration.

It doesn’t matter who sings what. At some point, someone’s fist is up someone else’s rectum. Some of us were not even sure this was anatomically possible until the nihilistic Catalan director Calixto Bieito took up opera. Now it’s routine.

In an age where youth and haste are prized, this is anachronistic: Claudio Abbado, at the age of 72, is conducting his first Magic Flute. Paradoxically, it would be hard to imagine the piece sounding fresher, more limber or agile.

Por primera vez en México y con una producción fastuosa como se ha presentado en Nueva York se presentará en el Teatro de la Ciudad la ópera “Rigoletto” de Giuseppe Verdi.

Rigoletto was condemned by the governor of Venice as a deplorable, repugnant, obscene triviality. We live in more enlightened times: Compared to Desperate Housewives, Giuseppe Verdi’s tale of seduction, vengeance, corruption and murder is a walk in the park.

IT IS 35 years since Sir Peter Hall’s first Glyndebourne production, 21 since he became director of productions and 15 since he stormed out. Two of his productions are playing this year, including this curtainraiser; it makes you wonder what is going on there.

Conductor Charles Mackerras is 80 later this year, a fact he is seemingly already celebrating with multiple performances of Mozart’s Die Zauberflöte. Hard on the heels of a revival at Covent Garden and a new recording for Chandos comes a second revival at Glyndebourne, which, purely in terms of conducting and playing, is well nigh exemplary. Mackerras’s interpretation of Zauberflöte has always combined serenity with great wit, and his deployment here of the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment adds an extra emotional dimension, with the darker sound of period instruments creating a mood of spiritual austerity that offsets the score’s humour and humane warmth.

I never “got” I Masnadieri; not even in the wonderful Bergonzi-Caballé recording I bought the moment it appeared in 1975. I had a feeling that for once Verdi had lost his unbelievable magic as a tune-smith. Corsaro, Giorno di Regno, Battaglia, Alzira etc. all sounded familiar after a few playings but Masnadieri never got under my skin with the exception of the rousing tenor cabaletta and the soprano’s aria. I was in good company as even Budden in his well-known analysis of the opera speaks of “a seemingly backward step.” Well, the good news is that Verdi of course knew it better and that the opera really works in a professional production with acceptable singers.

When the irascible W.S. Gilbert was directing this break-through operetta, he admonished a soprano: “This is not Italian opera. It is only a low burlesque of the worst possible kind.”

There are two reasons the rising Russian superstar Evgeny Nikitin should not sing Don Giovanni. One is his obfuscated, typically Slav diction in Italian, the other the difficulty his impressive voice has in spinning exposed Mozartian line. Both defects would disqualify him on a recording but, in the magical world of live opera, Nikitin’s animal magnetism helps us understand what the fuss is all about.