09 Feb 2007
HANDEL: Agrippina
An expressionist portrait of the Roman she-wolf was the first, striking image of this production, originally devised for Théâtre Royal de la Monnaie, by the fashionable British director David McVicar.
Dulce Rosa, a brand new opera, had its world premiere Friday night, May 17, 2013 at the Broad Stage in Santa Monica, California. It was produced by Los Angeles Opera, but staged in the smaller theater.
Richard Jones’ 2009 production of Verdi’s Falstaff translates the action from the first Elizabethan age to the start of the second.
Baritone Gareth John is rapidly accumulating a war-chest of honours. Winner of the 2013 Kathleen Ferrier Award, he recently won the Royal Academy of Music Patrons’ Award and was presented the Silver Medal by the Worshipful Company of Musicians.
This second revival of Jonathan Miller’s La bohème was the first time I had caught the production.
It’s Verdi’s bicentenary year and Rolando Villazón has two new CDs to plug — titled somewhat confusingly, ‘Villazón: Verdi’ and ‘Villazón’s Verdi’, the latter a ‘personal selection’ of favourite numbers performed by stars of the past and present.
Nicola Luisotti and the San Francisco Opera Orchestra climbed out of the War Memorial pit, braved the wind whipped bay and held spellbound an audience at Cal Performances’ Zellerbach Auditorium at UC Berkeley.
Utterly mad but absolutely right — Richard Strauss’s Ariadne auf Naxos started the Glyndebourne 2013 season with an explosion. Strauss could hardly have made his intentions more clear. Ariadne auf Naxos is not “about” Greek myth so much as a satire on art and the way art is made.
“Man is an abyss. It makes one dizzy to look into it.” So utters Georg Büchner’s Woyzeck, repeating what was also a recurring motif in the playwright’s own letters.
National Opera Company of the Rhine has marked this year’s Benjamin Britten celebration with a remarkably compelling, often gripping new production of the seldom-seen Owen Wingrave.
Once upon a time, Frankfurt Opera had the baddest ass reputation in Germany as “the” cutting edge producer of must-see opera.
Productions of Giuseppe Verdi’s Rigoletto can serve as a vehicle for individual singers to make a strong impression and become afterward associated with specific roles in the opera.
Just in case we were not aware that the evening’s programme was ‘themed’, the Britten Sinfonia designed a visual accompaniment to their musical exploration of night, sleep and dreams.
Poor Aida! She never seems to have anything go her way.
Is it possible to upstage Jonas Kaufmann? Kaufmann was brilliant in this Verdi Don Carlo at the Royal Opera House, London, but the rest of the cast was so good that he was but first among equals. Don Carlo is a vehicle for stars, but this time the stars were everyone on stage and in the pit. Even the solo arias, glorious as they are, grow organically out of perfect ensemble. This was a performance that brought out the true beauty of Verdi's music.
The big names were absent: Duparc, D’Indy, Debussy, Ravel and while Fauré, Chausson, Roussel and several members of Les Six put in an appearance, in less than familiar guises, this survey of French song of the early 20th century and interwar years deliberately took us on a journey through infrequently travelled terrain.
Composed between 1718 and 1720, Handel’s Esther is sometimes described as the ‘first English Oratorio’, but is in fact a hybrid form, mixing elements of oratorio, masque, pastoral and opera.
Hector Berlioz's légende dramatique, La Damnation de Faust, exists somewhere between cantata and opera. Berlioz's flexible attitude to dramatic form made the piece unworkable on the stages of early 19th century Paris and his music is so vivid that you wonder whether the piece needs staging at all.
St. John’s Smith Square was the site of Elizabeth Connell’s final London concert, intended as a farewell to London on her moving to Australia. It was rendered ultimately final by her unexpected death.
With the building of the Suez Canal, Egypt became more interesting to Western Europeans. Khedive Ismail Pasha wanted a hymn by Verdi for the opening of a new opera house in Cairo, but the composer said he did not write occasional pieces.
Back for its fourth revival, David McVicar’s 2003 production of Mozart’s Die Zauberflöte has much charm, beauty and artistry.
An expressionist portrait of the Roman she-wolf was the first, striking image of this production, originally devised for Théâtre Royal de la Monnaie, by the fashionable British director David McVicar.
It promised many of McVicar’s trademarks — stark colour, gothic imagery and theatricality.
But despite an emphasis on history and myth, this modern-dress staging of Handel’s tale of politico-sexual manipulation was very much a study of the relationship between women and power in our own time. Between them, Agrippina and Poppea have half of Rome in love with them, and they exploit it with equal deviousness — and yet their relationship with one another is one of superficial friendliness and glacial suspicion.
In the title role — a strange one, given that the supporting characters seem to be given most of
the best arias — Sarah Connolly’s reliably impeccable musicianship did not disappoint. Her stage
presence was a revelation; used to being cast as men, Connolly projected a regal femininity
which was complemented to best effect by John McFarlane’s glamorous costume designs. She
was partnered by the marvelous Christine Rice as the feckless teenage Nerone, the son who is
destined for the Imperial throne. Rice’s voice and repertoire have expanded hugely in recent
years and I am pleased to note that her grasp of quickfire Handelian coloratura is even more
astonishing now than it was when she sang Bradamante in McVicar’s staging of Alcina seven
years ago.
The other shining light in this production was the rising star Lucy Crowe, a relatively late addition to the cast as Poppea, who combined absolute vocal security and assurance with an alluring presence and fine comic timing, especially in the staging’s best judged and most memorable set-piece in which Crowe was joined onstage by harpsichordist Stephen Higgins for a virtuoso “piano-bar” performance.
Making his company début as Ottone, the young countertenor Reno Troilus grew in vocal security and confidence as the performance went on; he gave a touching vocal portrayal of the wronged man’s bewilderment in his aria at the close of the first act. The “character” roles of Pallante and Narciso (Agrippina’s suitors and political pawns) were ably assumed by bass Henry Waddington and countertenor Stephen Wallace.
Despite a few moments of musical untidiness, Daniel Reuss’s conducting was for the most part buoyant and well-balanced.
Unfortunately the concept of the sex, drugs and rock ’n’ roll opera production is now something of a cliché. Despite the considerable comic gifts of McVicar and his cast, the staging exhibited a pervading hint of crassness which I hope is not a sign of things to come for this popular director. Four-letter words littered Amanda Holden’s translation. Much advantage was taken of Crowe’s physique du role; Poppea stripped down to sexy lingerie twice in the space of two scenes, in spite of only one of the occasions making any dramatic sense. Poppea understandably rolled in drunk after her traumatic split from Ottone, but what was the point of Agrippina turning up similarly inebriated a couple of scenes earlier? The opera is all about the relationship between sex and power, but it all seemed a little overdone. Another worrying thing, and surely not the fault of McVicar or the near-perfect cast, was the plentiful supply of empty seats on this opening night of what is surely ENO’s most important new production of the current season.
Ruth Elleson