21 Apr 2008
(Mostly) Pretty Poison
What to make of "Lucrezia Borgia"? I have always felt that, some lovely arias notwithstanding, this Donizetti work never really gets going until the slam-bang soprano-baritone duet in Act II.
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.
What to make of "Lucrezia Borgia"? I have always felt that, some lovely arias notwithstanding, this Donizetti work never really gets going until the slam-bang soprano-baritone duet in Act II.
I was hoping that a new production at Torino's Teatro Regio might change my mind. And indeed, their substantial effort had many excellent components.
Angelo Sala's handsome, angled colonnade unit (which would not have been out of place on neighboring Via Po) may have initially looked a bit slate-gray, socialist-utilitarian, but it was re-dressed handsomely (and relatively quickly) for the several changes of locale, without at all giving the impression that we were looking at scenery-on-the cheap Very simple but highly effective, and well-detailed.
Lovely, too, were the sumptuous court costumes of Cristina Aceti, which not only provided ample delights to dazzle the eye, but displayed a well-considered color palette, from the opening act's silvers, blacks and grays, to the more colorful street and social life of Ferrara. "Lucrezia," as should be, looked every inch the alluring diva in some knock-out gowns. One major slip-up was the unflattering gray schmatte that poor "Gennaro" got stuck in. With his long hair and round face, in profile the unfortunate effect was that he looked alarmingly like Mama Cass.
Andrea Anfossi's lighting was sensitive, atmospheric, and well-cued. Tiziana Tosco's choreography was inventive and appropriate. So what more could I want? Well, let's see, more meaningful direction from Francesco Bellotto would have been nice. Blocking was rather workaday routine, if not downright obvious; characters did not relate to each other nearly often enough; and for all the detail and inventiveness in the the design elements, there was precious little on display in the histrionics.
Example: "Orsini" is given a goblet of wine (empty but we are meant to believe it "full") which he flails about indiscriminately, turning it upside down at one point, then shortly thereafter we are asked to believe he is still able to "drink" from it as he toasts and quaffs with his comrades. There was scant attention paid to discovering nuances, or even fleshing out the the big chunks to provide any substantially helpful dramatic support to the music.
A scene from Act I
To his credit, even though he did not greatly illuminate it, Signor Bellotto also did not get in the way of the sense of the story. However, there was a "mysterious" young girl who covers the sleeping "Gennaro" with a red cloth in Act I, then is carried on dead with grieving parents in tow in Act II (ignored by all on stage), reappearing with the family in Act III to block "Lucrezia's" way as she seeks to get help for the poisoned "Gennaro," the girl later covering his corpse with the same red cloth. (Ooooooooooh)
Okay, do you get this? 'Cause I don't. Who are they? And do our characters see them? Or not? Here today, gone domani? A consistent point of view might have yielded a good dramatic device instead of another minor distraction.
Happily, on the musical side, Torino's forces delivered the goods. I originally went planning to see Fiorenza Cedolins in the Sunday matinee, only to find she had been replaced. (I didn't ask. This is Italy.) So, I opted to swap the ticket for Saturday evening (can you imagine doing that at the Met?!) to hear another soprano I have read a lot about: Angeles Blancas Gulin. And I was quite glad I did.
Up front, the lovely Ms. Gulin's singing will not please all tastes. I have the feeling that, like the great Scotto, she has a full lyric instrument with good point, that she is pushing to the limit, albeit often with thrilling results. A beat crept into a few of the very top notes, and while she did nail a climatic note in-Alt at Act I's end, we (and she) might have been happier with a lower option.
But she is indisputably a creature of the stage, prowling and hissing, sparking and ranting, singing alternately with controlled beauty, hushed introspection and inflamed dramatic declamation. Her impassioned portrayal earned her a huge ovation, and ultimately she won me over and took me along on her journey owing more to her total commitment and musicianship than to her overall vocal production. Still, it is a rare treat to hear the piece, and a joy to hear the role embodied so thoroughly.
Tenor Salvatore Cordella ("Gennaro") was a stand-in for Raul Hernandez, also not singing as announced (see above, this-is-Italy-don't-ask-don't-tell). Mr. Cordella has a sweet voice deployed with a sound technique, and he husbanded his resources well. However, there is a difference between sensible pacing, and marking. And I felt our tenor was so croony on so many passages that he gave the impression of feeling over-parted, scaling back on the parlando passages so he could pour out the tone convincingly on the money sections. A young man, experience may remedy this effect and even out his vocal portrayal.
No such problem from our "Don Alfonso," Simone del Savio. He is possessed of a very substantial, warmly engaging baritone that has even production throughout, admirable portamento, and plenty of presence. If the top notes didn't quite rattle the chandeliers like Milnes or MacNeill, they were nevertheless well-focused and full-voiced.
Arguably, the vocal performance of the night was the knock-out turn by Barbara di Castri as "Orsini." From the first time she opened her mouth and let fly with a phrase in chest voice that would have made Horne proud, this was announcement of a major talent. It is true that she sang "just" under the pitch in some of Act I's higher reaches, but this vanished completely in the remainder of the piece, as she claimed the stage at every moment with a well-sung, committed portrayal of great power and vocal beauty.
The resident orchestra was in fine form under the sure hand of veteran Bruno Campanella. Hearing these pieces played by Italians is most always a revelation to me. They seem to effortlessly embrace this style, bringing fire, artistry and excitement to even the most simplistic of melodic phrases, and to the most trite of predictable rhythmic effects. More important, Maestro Campanella and his band partnered their soloists with care and sensitivity.
Overall, then this outing offered compelling music-making, excellent production values, and non-offensive staging. While Act I of "Lucrezia Borgia" may still fail to excite me, a musical reading as persuasive as this could convince me to give it yet another listen. And with some loving attention to character relationships, Torino could transform this "Lucrezia" from merely a very good evening into a truly memorable night at the opera.
James Sohre