Recently in Performances
George Enescu’s Oedipe was premiered in Paris 1936 but it has taken 80 years for the opera to reach the stage of Covent Garden. This production by Àlex Ollé (a member of the Catalan theatrical group, La Fura Dels Baus) and Valentina Carrasco, which arrives in London via La Monnaie where it was presented in 2011, was eagerly awaited and did not disappoint.
Lyric Opera of Chicago staged Charles Gounod’s Roméo et Juliette as the last opera in its current subscription season.
‘The plot is perhaps the least moral in all opera; wrong triumphs in the name of love and we are not expected to mind.’
Anthony Minghella’s production of Madame Butterfly for ENO is
wearing well. First seen in 2005, it is now being aired for the sixth time and is still, as I observed in 2013, ‘a breath-taking visual banquet’.
This concert version of La straniera felt like a compulsory musicology field trip, but it had enough vocal flashes to lobby for more frequent performances of this midway Bellini.
As poetry is the harmony of words, so music is that of notes; and as poetry is a rise above prose and oratory, so is music the exaltation of poetry.
From experiments with musique concrète in the 1940s, to the
Minimalists’ explorations into tape-loop effects in the 1960s, via the
appearance of hip-hop in the 1970s and its subsequent influence on electronic
dance music in the 1980s, to digital production methods today,
‘sampling’ techniques have been employed by musicians working in
genres as diverse as jazz fusion, psychedelic rock and classical music.
On May 7, 2016, San Diego Opera presented the West Coast premiere of Great Scott, an opera by Terrence McNally and Jake Heggie. McNally’s original libretto pokes fun at everything from football to bel canto period opera. It includes snippets of nineteenth century tunes as well as Heggie's own bel canto writing.
A foiled abduction, a castle-threatening inferno, romantic infatuation, guilt-laden near-suicide, gun-shots and knife-blows: Andrea Leone Tottola’s libretto for Vincenzo Bellini’s first opera, Adelson e Salvini, certainly does not lack dramatic incident.
Opera as an art form has never shied away from the grittier shadows of life. Nor has Manitoba Opera, with its recent past productions dealing with torture, incest, murder and desperate political prisoners still so tragically relevant today.
Published in 1855 as an entertainment for his two daughters, William Makepeace Thackeray’s The Rose and the Ring is a burlesque fairy-tale whose plot — to the author’s wilful delight, perhaps — defies summation and elucidation.
What more fitting memorial for composer Peter Maxwell Davies (d. 03/14/2016) than a splendid performance of The Lighthouse, the third of his eight works for the stage.
I suspect that many of those at the Wigmore Hall for The King’s
Consort’s performance of the La Senna festeggiante (The
Rejoicing Seine) were lured by the cachet of ‘Antonio Vivaldi’ and
further enticed by the notion of a lover’s serenade at which the generic
term ‘serenata’ seems to hint.
Having enjoyed superb singing by a young cast of soloists in Classical
Opera’s UK premiere of Jommelli’s Il Vogoleso the
previous evening, I was delighted that the 2016 Kathleen Ferrier Awards Final
at the Wigmore Hall confirmed the strength and depth of talent possessed by the
young singers studying in and emerging from our academies and conservatoires.
On February 7, 1786, Emperor Joseph II of Austria had brand new one-act operas by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and Antonio Salieri performed in the Schönbrunn Palace’s Orangery.
Those poor opera lovers in Cologne have a never ending problem with the city’s opera house. Together with the rest of city, the construction of the new opera house is mired in political incompetence.
London remains starved of Wagner. This season, its major companies offer but two works, Tannhäuser from the Royal Opera and Tristan from ENO.
Dmitry Bertman’s hilarious staging of Rimsky-Korsakov’s political sex-comedy The Golden Cockerel in Düsseldorf.
On April 16, 2016, San Diego Opera presented Giacomo Puccini’s sixth opera, Madama Butterfly, in an intriguing production by Garnett Bruce. Roberto Oswald’s scenery included the usual Japanese styled house with many sliding doors and walls. On either side, however, were blooming cherry trees with rough trunks and gnarled branches that looked as though they had been growing on the property for a hundred years.
New Co-Production Tristan und Isolde with Metropolitan: Simon
Rattle and Westbroek electrify Treliński’s Opera-Noir.
21 Oct 2008
Partenope — English National Opera, London Coliseum
In this new staging of Handel's comic rarity for English National Opera, director Christopher Alden has chosen to tell the classical tale of amorous and political intrigue through the world of the artistic elite of the 1920s/30s.
The costumes and settings are directly inspired by specific
examples of art photography from the period, with the programme illustrating
a number of iconic photographic works which are clearly recognisable in the
John Mark Ainsley as Emilio
The opera is set in a devastatingly chic salon (realised by Andrew
Lieberman, with costumes by Jon Morrell), all cream walls and curved lines,
the home of Rosemary Joshua's glacially glamorous socialite Partenope (done
up, as illustrated by a Man Ray photograph in the programme, as Nancy
Cunard). It is a place where the idle and moneyed artistic intelligentsia
gather for a spot of highbrow theorising over a cocktail or two, and where
the great realities of love and war are relegated to the rank of
insignificant little playthings. It is not an obvious breeding-ground for
Neither, to be fair, is the libretto, cribbed by an anonymous writer for
Handel from an original book by Silvio Stampiglia, and here delivered in a
coarsely colloquial translation by Amanda Holden. Though the opera is named
for Partenope, she is a character to whom one does not easily warm; though
her enemy/rejected lover Emilio (John Mark Ainsley) is clearly supposed to be
the primo uomo, he is drawn so sketchily, and takes such small part in the
opera's core emotional intrigue, that he fades into the background. Alden's
production seizes upon this, resolving the issue of what to do with him by
giving him more of an observer role. In the context of the production's arty
milieu, Emilio is characterised as Man Ray, with the often bizarre situations
between the characters being set up and captured by him on film. At the start
of the opera, the production exacerbates the problems caused by this detached
characterisation; at the first interval I was dreading the prospect of a
further two hours of empty posturing and artistic pretension, with any
inconsistencies in the dramatic development being explained away with the
blanket excuse that it's all in the cause of surrealism.
Fortunately, there are also characters we really care about, and it is
they who sustain the story long enough for the development of dramatic
interest and a bit more emotional realism in the second and third acts. First
there's Arsace (Christine Rice), the spoilt cad who has won Partenope's
heart, having conveniently forgotten to mention the lover whom he abandoned
and still hankers after. Then there's Rosmira (Patricia Bardon), the
abandoned lover in question, who (despite having been instantly recognised by
Arsace) has disguised herself as a warrior by the name of Eurimene and
followed him to a foreign land in search of both reconciliation and
retribution. She is, by some margin, the most complex and sympathetic of the
protagonists, and her central obsession with the feckless and unworthy Arsace
is the source of some of the opera's most rewarding music. Finally there's
Armindo, the diffident bumbling youth who is Partenope's best prospect for
genuine happiness but who doesn't have the guts to say so.
As John Mark Ainsley's role contained some thanklessly unmemorable music,
and Rosemary Joshua's coloratura and intonation were wayward at times, the
three subsidiary characters also supplied the best value in terms of musical
satisfaction. Rice's all-guns-blazing revenge aria at the close of Act 2 was
delivered with pinpoint accuracy and a gutsy warmth of tone, and her puppyish
arrogance was thoroughly convincing. What the score lacks in grand Handelian
tragic arias, it attempts to compensate with some shorter episodes of
heartfelt and honest music for Rosmira and occasionally as well as for
Arsace; their third-act duet is one of the musical high points. Bardon
suffered a glitch of some sort at the start of her Act 1 aria, but otherwise
gave a well-rounded and musically sensitive performance. And it was fitting
that Iestyn Davies gave the best and most memorable (if not the flashiest)
vocal performance of the evening; it is his clarity, assurance and
straightforwardness which at last succeed in winning Partenope.
It was a decent ensemble cast, in a score which contains more
multiple-voice numbers than are normally found in Handel, and all was held
tautly together in the pit by ENO débutant Christian Curnyn, more usually
found at the artistic helm of the Early Opera Company.
As hit-and-miss as the production concept is, it underlines the
inexplicable and bizarre ways in which seemingly poised and sophisticated
people are driven to act in the pursuit of love.
Ruth Elleson © 2008