Recently in Reviews
It is twenty-three years since Rossini’s opera of cultural oppression, inspiring heroism and tender pathos was last seen on the Covent Garden stage, but this eagerly awaited new production of Guillaume Tell by Italian director Damiano Micheletto will be remembered more for the audience outrage and vociferous mid-performance booing that it provoked — the most persistent and strident that I have heard in this house — than for its dramatic, visual or musical impact.
With its outrageous staging demands, you sometimes wonder why opera companies want to produce Verdi’s Aida. But the piece is about far more than pharaohs, pyramids and camels.
Given the enduring resonance and impact of the magnificent visual aesthetic of Visconti’s 1971 film of Thomas Mann’s novella, opera directors might be forgiven for concluding that Britten’s Death in Venice does not warrant experimentation with period and design, and for playing safe with Edwardian elegance, sweeping Venetian vistas and stylised seascapes.
If La Rondine (The Swallow) is a less-admired work than rest of the mature Puccini canon, you wouldn’t have known it by the lavish production now lovingly staged by Opera Theatre of Saint Louis.
Few companies have championed new or neglected works quite as fervently and consistently as the industrious Opera Theatre of Saint Louis.
For Opera Theatre of Saint Louis, “everything old is new again.”
Why would an American opera company devote its resources to the premiere of an opera by an Italian composer? Furthermore a parochially Italian story?
Berlioz’ Les Troyens is in two massive parts — La prise de Troy and Troyens à Carthage.
On Saturday evening June 13, 2015, Los Angeles Opera presented Dog Days, a new opera with music by David T. Little and a text by Royce Vavrek. In the opera adopted from a story of the same name by Judy Budnitz, thirteen-year-old Lisa tells of her family’s mental and physical disintegration resulting from the ravages of a horrendous war.
Audiences at the Teatro alla Scala in Milan first saw Madama Butterfly on February 17, 1904. It was not the success it is these days, and Puccini revised it before its scheduled performances in Brescia.
Opera Philadelphia is a very well-managed opera company with a great vision. Every year it presents a number of well-known “warhorse” operas, usually in the venerable Academy of Music, and a few more adventurous productions, usually in a chamber opera format suited to the smaller Pearlman Theater.
Written in 1783, Giovanni Paisiello’s Il Barbiere di Siviglia reigned for three decades as one of Europe’s most popular operas, before being overshadowed forever by Rossini’s classic work.
The Princeton Festival has established a reputation for high-quality summer opera. In recent years works by Handel, Britten, Rachmaninoff, Stravinsky, Wagner and Gershwin have been performed at Matthews Theater on Princeton University campus: a 1100-seat auditorium with good sight-lines though a somewhat dry and uneven acoustic.
Die Entführung aus dem Serail was Mozart’s ﬁrst great public success in Vienna, and it became the composer’s most oft performed opera during his lifetime.
The Ensemble for the Romantic Century offered a thoughtful and well-curated evening in their production of The Sorrows of Young Werther, which is part theatrical performance and part art song concert.
This was an adventurous double bill of two ‘quasi-operas’ by Hans Werner Henze, performed by young singers who are studying on the postgraduate Opera Course at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama.
High brick walls, a cavernous space, entered via a narrow passage just off a London thoroughfare: Village Underground in Shoreditch is probably not that far removed from the venue in which Henry Purcell’s Dido and Aeneas was first performed — whether that was Josiah Priest’s girl’s school in Chelsea or the court of Charles II or James II.
Hats off to Garsington for championing once again some criminally neglected Strauss. I overheard someone there opine, ‘Of course, you can understand why it isn’t done very often.’
Mozart and Da Ponte’s Cosi fan tutte provides little in the way of background or back story for the plot, thus allowing directors to set the piece in a variety settings.
Based on a play, Chrysomania (The Passion for Money), by
the Russian playwright Prince Alexander Shokhovskoy, Pushkin’s short story The Queen of Spades is, in the words of one literary critic, ‘a sardonic commentary on the human condition’.
19 Nov 2008
Matilde di Shabran at Covent Garden
The rare Rossini opera which brought Juan Diego Flórez to international attention in Pesaro in 1996 was thrown together by the composer at the last minute to meet a deadline in February 1821, with a plot from one source and characters from another, and bits of the score filled in by Pacini.
and structurally, it is unusual; not only does the first act last over two
hours, with a full forty-five minutes before either of the major principals
put in an appearance, but there's barely a solo aria in the piece; the score
consists almost entirely of duets and ensembles. At Covent Garden over a
decade later, the prospect of such an opera (mounted as a star vehicle for
Flórez) was enough to provoke a certain amount of trepidation despite the
house being sold out months in advance.
But the opera's principal message is a familiar one: no man stands a
chance when pitted against a talented and resourceful woman. It's an idea
reminiscent of two of the composer's better-known operas, L'italiana in
Algeri and Il barbiere di Siviglia, and Matilde drives
the point home so unequivocally that rather than feeling formulaic it comes
across at times as a Rossinian self-parody. The characters are
two-dimensional and limited in range, especially Flórez's character, the
tyrannical Corradino whose motiveless misogyny is such that he barricades
himself away from the world to avoid having to deal with women, but who melts
like a lovesick puppy the second he's confronted by the feisty Matilde.
There's plenty of catty business between Matilde and the Contessa d'Arco (the
noblewoman with her own legitimate claim on Corradino), pathos from
Corradino's young prisoner Edoardo and the father who is searching for him,
and a convenient ending made possible by the verbal cunning of an omnipresent
itinerant poet called Isidoro.
As Matilde comprehensively conquers the war-hungry Corradino, so the young
Polish soprano, Aleksandra Kurzak, upstaged the mega-star tenor whose
availability was responsible for the opera's rescue from obscurity. Kurzak
brought an air of confident modernity to Rossini's heroine, with a pert,
confident stage presence and pinpoint accuracy in the fiendish coloratura
which she delivered with a crystalline tone. The flexibility in Flórez's
upper register was as show-stopping as ever, but the small size of his voice
was shown up by the strength of the female leads (not just Kurzak, but
Enkelejda Shkosa as a fiery Contessa d'Arco) and he sounded a little dry at
times. His music just doesn't have the same potential as the women's; he's
not even destined to be the voice that stays in the memory at the end of the
night, as Matilde concludes with a triumphant rondo a show in which Corradino
has had no real solo at all.
Carlo Lepore as Ginardo, Alfonso Antoniozzi as Isidoro and Juan Diego Flórez as Corradino [Photo by Catherine Ashmore courtesy of The Royal Opera House]
In the trouser-role of Edoardo, Vesselina Kasarova was disappointing, her
top register sounding disjointed from the rest of her voice, though it's
always a warm sound, and the reunion with father Raimondo (Mark Beesley) was
very affecting – a serious sub-plot in an opera which is otherwise a
sharp comedy. Alfonso Antoniozzi was endearing as the poet Isidoro, and those
in the minor roles all contributed to a surprisingly well-integrated ensemble
performance considering the opera's hybrid pedigree.
Mario Martone's production was constrained by Sergio Tramonti's austere
set design, consisting of two enormous concentric spiral staircases snaking
up into the flies, and a ramp leading up to an aperture at the back. Though
it gave three dimensions to the movement on stage, it was excessively
limiting, not to mention colourless. It was left to the principal singers to
maintain interest throughout a long evening, a feat which they more than
achieved with snappy assistance from Carlo Rizzi in the pit. But really
– with this classy a vocal cast – it would have worked just as
well as a concert.
Ruth Elleson © 2008