The Gran Teatre del Liceu in Barcelona, after suffering a calamitous fire in the early 1990s, reopened in 1999, lovingly restored. TDK has released a series of DVDs from the Liceu since that date, providing ample evidence of the world...
Premiered posthumously, the symphonic song-cycle Das Lied von der Erde by Gustav Mahler (1860-1911) remains one of his defining works because of its synthesis of song and symphony, two genres he pursued throughout his career.
In 1851 during his first season as music director in Düsseldorf, Robert Schumann presented a performance of Bach’s St. John Passion, and unsurprisingly adapted the score both to nineteenth-century taste and nineteenth-century practicalities.
The centrality of dance at the French court helped bring grace, order, and political allegory into the characteristic prominence they enjoyed during the reigns of Louis XIV and Louis XV; theatre presentations of all stripes were infused with choreographic diversions.
In tandem with the recently released set of Sir Simon Rattle’s recordings of Mahler’s symphonies on EMI Classics, the set of the complete symphonies by Jean Sibelius merits attention.
As much as Richard Wagner espoused opera reform in his theoretical writings by bringing to his works for the stage a closer unity between music and text, his actual means of doing so at times involved the use of orchestral forces that sometimes overwhelmed the sung word.
The budget label Gala purveys live performances both historic and relatively recent; of the three discussed here, the La Scala Fedora dates back to 1931, while the Attila comes from a 1987 La Fenice performance.
National styles of music in the seventeenth century were often distinctive, and in the case of French and Italian music, famously so.
With its recent release of Mahler’s symphonies conducted by Sir Simon Rattle, EMI Classics makes available in a single place an outstanding contribution to the composer’s discography.
This DVD records and commemorates a 1981 production of Parsifal in its Bayreuth lair, and the singers of 1981 are as fine as recollection might paint them.
Once the custom of the world's opera houses was to translate great operas into the language of each respective country.
Repackaging older recordings having become the primary focus of a classical recording company's business, Deutsche Grammophon budgeted some funds for art direction for its budget series called "Opera House" (although that appellation only appears in a link found on the back inside cover of the sets' booklets).
Of Rosenkavaliers on DVD, the classics tend to be lovingly detailed productions, going back to the film of Herbert von Karajan leading an exemplary cast, with Elizabeth Schwarzkopf's iconic Marschallin.
Despite an unsurprising degree of conservatism in liturgical music, devotional life in Rome often found ways of taking advantage of modern musical style.
“Her fioritura is priceless, breathtaking, and effortless.”
The English composer Nicholas Maw has been a major voice since the 1960's, with a wide range of works that include the 2002 opera, "Sophie’s Choice," a violin concerto for Joshua Bell (1993), and the monumentally-scaled orchestral work, "Odyssey" (1972-87).
As is often the case, last works that remain incomplete at the time of a composer’s death, are quick to invoke controversy and conspiracy theories.
This is a valuable new recording of a work that is only rarely heard, but was widely influential and wildly popular during the eighteenth century. Philosophe Jean-Jacques Rousseau wrote both the libretto and the music, with mixed success.
This disc is well worth the price for the first track alone: the opening measures of Jean-Féry Rebel’s “Cahos,” (Chaos), written in 1737 or 1738, may cause you to wonder if you accidentally left a Stockhausen or Ligeti disc in the changer.
This recording made half a century ago will not be anyone’s first choice unless one is a die-hard fan of one of the principal singers; neither of them belonging to the absolute top in their profession.
Of late opera stagings often seem to be slotted into one of two categories: the "traditional," with sets as the original libretto detailed and singers in period costumes; and "non-traditional," "regie theater," or "Eurotrash," what you will.
The latter ranges from stark, modernistic exercises to over-the-top re-interpretations (such as the recent Berlin "Rigoletto" set on the "Planet of the Apes"). And between these two polar extremes lies a vast wasteland of unexplored territory, melding, one hopes, the best of both a production true to the essence of the opera's story and yet imaginative, evocative, and truly contemporary.
On this global picture of opera stagings, where does this Euroarts DVD of a Leipzig Un ballo in maschera fall? Nowhere. It is not on the same planet. Director Ermanno Olmi and designer Arnaldo Pomodoro appear to operate in their own dimension. "Cloud cuckoo land" would be your reviewer's guess.
The problem lies in the sheer baffling oddness of the production, which doesn't appear to be symbolic or referential. The singers perform as if they are in a traditional production. But where they are, dressed as they are, remains bewildering. After some fairly traditional peasants appear to sing the king's praises, military men appear in oddly cut tunic-jackets, carrying spears. Riccardo wears an upscale, monk-like gunny-sack brown affair, and the unfortunate Renato must perform in a laughable silver-lamè outfit. Court ladies stroll on in gowns with bizarre ruffled sleeves and hoop skirts. The men sport a sort of stiff beret, and the women have fan-like headdresses. The cast tends to move into position and stand stiffly before a painted backdrop of odd metallic slashes and cross-hatches. This is not the Boston of the revised libretto or the Swedish court of the original setting. In fact, it appears to be a cross between The Wizard of Oz and a Star Trek episode.
As odd as the opening act strikes the viewer, the Ulrica episode takes the production down several levels. Her psychic sessions are held in a run-down basement that has spike-like columns piercing through at odd angles. Costumed as an inter-stellar porcupine, Anna Maria Chiuri, a strong Ulrica, is allowed almost no physical movement above the waist, but give her credit - she makes use of some very expressive eyebrows.
For act three, a reasonable facsimile of a room gets wheeled onstage, and when Ricardo appears to sing his aria, he sings from behind a desk in a space beside a wall, on the other side of which Amelia sits despondently. The director and designers deserve credit for that effective idea, but then the ball begins, and the descent into weirdness resumes. With the cast so obviously in "maschera" to begin with, the production team goes for oddly shaped gold-flaked masks of various shapes, including a donut-shaped one for tenor Massimiliano Pisapia (emphasis on the "mass"). After Renato stabs the King (your reviewer expected a ray gun blast), four game dancers lift the hefty singer up and carry him around the ramp of a circular platform, at the top of which Amelia joins him for the final lines. This is not recommended emergency procedure for stabbing victims.
Non-sensical and laughable, the whole affair seems to be a display piece for the set and costuming inspirations of the creators, with no explicable rationale your reviewer could discern.
In the meanwhile, a cast of unfamiliar names gives decent performances. Pisapia has a lot of voice, although the top lacks the security and sheen that would help ameliorate the dulling effect of his unimpressive physique and deportment. Chiara Taigi, a striking woman with a passing resemblance to the slimmed-down Deborah Voigt, tends to get shrieky at the top. Judging her acting in this production would not be fair. Franco Vassallo gets the heartiest response at curtain; he has more even production from bottom to top than the two leads, though the basic instrument is not especially attractive.
The two best singers appear in smaller roles. Eun Yee You makes a charming Oscar, and has some fun with her cheesy ensemble at the end, as she totters around on outsized platform shoes. And the Samuel of Tuomas Pursio impresses with a rich, handsome bass.
The best contribution of the evening comes from conductor Riccardo Chailly and his Leipzig Gewandhausorchester. Verdi could ask no more in terms of energy, impetus, and drama. If only the production didn't work so hard to distract from the musical performance.
Chris Mullins