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Is A Dog’s Heart even an opera? It is sung by opera singers to live
music. Alexander Raskatov’s score, however, is secondary to the incredible
stage visuals. Whatever it is, actor/director Simon McBurney’s first stab at
opera is fantastic theatre. Its revival at Dutch National Opera, where it
premiered in 2010, is hugely welcome.
In May 2016, Opera Rara gave Bellini aficionados a treat when they gave a concert performance of Vincenzo Bellini’s first opera, Adelson e Salvini, at the Barbican Hall. The preceding week had been spent in the BBC’s Maida Vale Studios, and this recording, released last month, is a very welcome addition to Opera Rara’s bel canto catalogue.
Jonas Kaufmann Mahler Das Lied von der Erde is utterly unique but also works surprisingly well as a musical experience. This won't appeal to superficial listeners, but will reward those who take Mahler seriously enough to value the challenge of new perspectives.
Following Garsington Opera for All’s successful second year of free public screenings on beaches, river banks and parks in isolated coastal and rural communities, Handel’s sparkling masterpiece Semele will be screened in four areas across the UK in 2017. Free events are programmed for Skegness (1 July), Ramsgate (22 July), Bridgwater (29 July) and Grimsby (11 October).
I kept hearing from knowledgeable opera fanatics that the Israeli Opera (IO) in Tel Aviv was a surprising sure bet. So I made my way to the Homeland to hear how supposedly great the quality of opera was. And man, I was in for treat.
At Phoenix’s Symphony Hall on Friday evening April 7, Arizona Opera offered its final presentation of the 2016-2017 season, Gioachino Rossini’s Cinderella (La Cenerentola). The stars of the show were Daniela Mack as Cinderella, called Angelina in the opera, and Alek Shrader as Don Ramiro. Actually, Mack and Shrader are married couple who met singing these same roles at San Francisco Opera.
On Saturday evening April 1, 2017, Placido Domingo and Los Angeles Opera celebrated their tenth year of training young opera artists in the Domingo-Colburn-Stein Program. From the singing I heard, they definitely have something of which to be proud.
The Festspielhaus in Baden-Baden pretty much programs only big stars. A prime example was the Fall Festival this season. Grigory Sokolov opened with a piano recital, which I did not attend. I came for Cecilia Bartoli in Bellini’s Norma and Christian Gerhaher with Schubert’s Die Winterreise, and Anne-Sophie Mutter breathtakingly delivering Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto together with the London Philharmonic Orchestra. Robin Ticciati, the ballerino conductor, is not my favorite, but together they certainly impressed in Mendelssohn.
Mahler as dramatist! Mahler Symphony no 8 with Vladimir Jurowski and the London Philharmonic Orchestra at the Royal Festival Hall. Now we know why Mahler didn't write opera. His music is inherently theatrical, and his dramas lie not in narrative but in internal metaphysics. The Royal Festival Hall itself played a role, literally, since the singers moved round the performance space, making the music feel particularly fluid and dynamic. This was no ordinary concert.
Imagine a fête galante by Jean-Antoine Watteau brought to life, its colour and movement infusing a bucolic scene with charm and theatricality. Jean-Philippe Rameau’s opéra-ballet Les fêtes d'Hébé, ou Les talens lyriques, is one such amorous pastoral allegory, its three entrées populated by shepherds and sylvans, real characters such as Sapho and mythological gods such as Mercury.
Details of the Royal Opera House's 2017/18 Season have been announced. Oliver Mears, who will begin his tenure as Director of Opera, comments:
“I am delighted to introduce my first Season as Director of Opera for The Royal Opera House. As I begin this role, and as the world continues to reel from social and political tumult, it is reassuring to contemplate the talent and traditions that underpin this great building’s history. For centuries, a theatre on this site has welcomed all classes - even in times of revolution and war - to enjoy the most extraordinary combination of music and drama ever devised. Since the time of Handel, Covent Garden has been home to the most outstanding performers, composers and artists of every era. And for centuries, the joyous and often tragic art form of opera has offered a means by which we can be transported to another world, in all its wonderful excess and beauty.”
Whatever one’s own religious or spiritual beliefs, Bach’s St Matthew Passion is one of the most, perhaps the most, affecting depictions of the torturous final episodes of Jesus Christ’s mortal life on earth: simultaneously harrowing and beautiful, juxtaposing tender stillness with tragic urgency.
Lindy Hume’s sensational La bohème at the Berliner
Staatsoper brings out the moxie in Puccini. Abdellah Lasri emerged as a
stunning discovery. He floored me with his tenor voice through which he
embodied a perfect Rodolfo.
Listening to Moritz Eggert’s Caliban is the equivalent of
watching a flea-ridden dog chasing its own tail for one-and-half hours. It
scratches, twitches and yelps. Occasionally, it blinks pleadingly, but you
can’t bring yourself to care for such a foolish animal and its
A large audience packed into the Wigmore Hall to hear the two Baroque rarities featured in this melodious performance by Christian Curnyn’s Early Opera Company. One was by the most distinguished ‘home-grown’ eighteenth-century musician, whose music - excepting some of the lively symphonies - remains seldom performed. The other was the work of a Saxon who - despite a few ups and downs in his relationship with the ‘natives’ - made London his home for forty-five years and invented that so English of genres, the dramatic oratorio.
A new recording, made late last year, Morfydd Owen : Portrait of a Lost Icon, from Tŷ Cerdd, specialists in Welsh music, reveals Owen as one of the more distinctive voices in British music of her era : a grand claim but not without foundation. To this day, Owen's tally of prizes awarded by the Royal Academy of Music remains unrivalled.
On March 24, 2017, Los Angeles Opera revived its co-production of Jacques Offenbach’s The Tales of Hoffmann which has also been seen at the Mariinsky Opera in Leningrad and the Washington National Opera in the District of Columbia.
Ermonela Jaho is fast becoming a favourite of Covent Garden audiences, following her acclaimed appearances in the House as Mimì, Manon and Suor Angelica, and on the evidence of this terrific performance as Puccini’s Japanese ingénue, Cio-Cio-San, it’s easy to understand why. Taking the title role in the first of two casts for this fifth revival of Moshe Leiser’s and Patrice Caurier’s 2003 production of Madame Butterfly, Jaho was every inch the love-sick 15-year-old: innocent, fresh, vulnerable, her hope unfaltering, her heart unwavering.
Calliope Tsoupaki’s latest opera, Fortress Europe, premiered
as spring began taming the winter storms in the Mediterranean.
To celebrate its 40th anniversary New Sussex Opera has set itself the challenge of bringing together the six scenes - sometimes described as six discrete ‘tone poems’ - which form Delius’s A Village Romeo and Juliet into a coherent musico-dramatic narrative.
02 Nov 2008
The Tsar’s Bride by OONY
What opera contains a terrific overture, a wedding sextet, two murderous magical potions, a mad scene for coloratura soprano, a magnificent a cappella aria for contralto, dozens of glorious melodies and lots of nifty choral writing?
If you read the heading of this review, you already know the answer:
Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov’s Tsar’s Bride – one of
the most popular operas throughout Russia, but downright obscure in the West
– it has never been staged in New York (to my knowledge), despite a
huge Russian community who would eat it up and a dozen visits over the years
from three or four of Russia’s leading opera companies wasting our time
with Mlada or Macbeth or far too many Onegins.
Rimsky-Korsakov was in an Italianate mood when he composed
Tsar’s Bride, with its feast of plot complications and
consequent musical situations: licentious boyar Grisha Gryaznoi (heroic
baritone) lusts for Marfa (coloratura soprano), though she is about to wed
her truelove Lykov (romantic tenor). Grisha persuades the tsar’s
sinister German alchemist, Bomelii (character tenor), to concoct a potion
that will make Marfa fall for best man Grisha instead. Complication one:
Grisha’s jealous mistress Lyubasha (dynamite Slavic mezzo) switches the
potion with another one, intended to destroy Marfa’s good looks –
never mind how Lyubasha got the sleazy alchemist to run it up for her (think:
Tosca). Complication two: Just as Marfa drinks the potion on her
wedding day, news arrives that the tsar, Ivan the Terrible no less (sinister
offstage presence), has chosen Marfa as his bride! Too, the potion
– what was in it? – turns out to be poison that drives
her lyrically insane. At curtain’s fall, everyone is either miserable
or dead except the tsar, who remains off stage, singing (we may imagine),
“Next!” (Ivan married more wives than Henry VIII. He once
proposed to Henry’s daughter, Elizabeth.)
Bride is, thus, one of those operas (like Don Carlos or Don
Giovanni or L’Africaine) where no single character grabs
our attention all night; we are involved with the dilemmas and desires of
many, and follow them through to a general catastrophe. One reason the opera
may be rare over here may be the sheer number of great voices who are
required to sing beautiful arias and ensembles in the true, flavorful Russian
manner. Lyubasha calls for a grand low-voiced lady, with a voice from the
vaults of the earth; it has long been a signature role for Borodina, and she
graciously returned to sing it with Queler a second time. Marfa’s
father, Sobakin, is a Russian bass from the old church-trained tradition,
like Boris or Prince Igor or Prince Gremin. Marfa herself
is an all-stops-out coloratura, whose lovely final scene is one of
Rimsky’s handsomest tunes. And first and last there is the devilish
Grisha Gryaznoi, whose outward brashness conceals inner torment, selfishness,
crime and, finally, a (very Russian) orgy of guilt. Half a dozen minor roles
have major parts to sing in solos and ensembles.
The problem is that it’s hard to bring in a worthy performance (and
O.O.N.Y.’s was a very worthy performance) unless you have dozens of
great Russian singers at your disposal – but that doesn’t prevent
anyone in the West from staging Boris Godunov or even the far less
theatrically promising Khovanshchina or Prince Igor –
all three of which, by the way, might never have captured the stage at all
had it not been for Rimsky-Korsakov’s now discredited editing.
Happily, Eve Queler and her Opera Orchestra of New York threw caution to
the winds and brought this wonderful piece back to Carnegie Hall for the
first New York hearing in twenty years. Olga Borodina, new in town at that
previous performance, is now a grande dame and local favorite, but she
retains the plummy low notes that make Lyubasha appealing, her disastrous
passions touching. Borodina is one of the rare Russian singers (her husband,
Ildar Abdrazakov, is another) who has no trouble singing Italian music
idiomatically, without the voiced vowels and Slavic curlicues that make so
many Russian opera singers a little risible in western song, but back in her
native element there seem to be depths of tragic character lurking in the
rounded shadows of her singing.
Alexey Markov made an exciting impression chewing up the stage as the
narcissistic Grisha. He is a fine singing actor, with a plush, endearing
baritone – and it is necessary that this character make himself a
lovable scamp in the great narrations of the first act or his hideous
behavior for the rest of the evening will only depress you. Yeghishe
Manucharyan sang ardently and deft phrasing as Marfa’s hapless true
love, but John Easterlin nearly stole the tenor honors with a Bomelii at once
forceful and melodramatically harsh. You did not need a libretto to know
which of these men was the lover and which the villain, and Easterlin made a
villain it was a delight to hiss. Christophoros Stamboglis, as Marfa’s
understandably confused father, had a good time with one of those stirring,
from-the-depths-of-the-Russian-earth bass arias – only the last, very
lowest note eluded him. There were many excellent young singers in minor but
important roles (housekeeper, sister, mother – impossible to tell them
apart as the electric titles often broke down and there was no printed
libretto), and such poignant bits of music-making as the lovely wedding
sextet (the last happy moment before the potion is drunk and Tsar
Ivan’s messenger arrives) were revels in the bosom of vocal art.