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Matthias Goerne and Menahem Pressler at the Wigmore Hall, London, an intriguing recital on many levels. Goerne programmes are always imaginative, bringing out new perspectives, enhancing our appreciation of the depth and intelligence that makes Lieder such a rewarding experience. Menahem Pressler is extremely experienced as a soloist and chamber musician, but hasn't really ventured into song to the extent that other pianists, like Brendel, Eschenbach or Richter, for starters. He's not the first name that springs to mind as Lieder accompanist. Therein lay the pleasure !
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.
27 Feb 2009
A restrained Flying Dutchman at the Royal Opera House, London
This Der fliegende Holländer was eagerly awaited as it hasn’t been heard at the Royal Opera House, London, since 2000. With Bryn Terfel’s return to Covent Garden as the Dutchman guaranteed a full house.
Terfel’s admirers would not have been disappointed. His voice boomed
with authority, impressive for its strength, even when he had to sing
dragging a heavy rope across the stage and wade through the real water at the
front of the platform. Terfel’s vocal power always impresses, and he has
done interesting Dutchmen elsewhere. However, in this production, by
Tim Albery, he was not called upon to develop the character. Not long ago,
Albery presented Boris Gudonov as stolid, mild-mannered bourgeois.
This Dutchman was no more ravaged than Daland. When the women and
Daland’s sailors call out to the doomed souls on the haunted ship, they
face the audience and shine lights into the auditorium. When the Dutchman’s
crew do appear, they’re neatly dressed in uniform, as if they’d never
been to sea. Maybe there’s some deep meaning in this, but it could have
been thought through with more focus.
Anja Kampe as Senta
The performance was more interesting, though, for what it brought out in
the music. That glorious overture is a marvel of dramatic scene-painting,
setting the mood for the entire opera. How it’s staged reflects on the
whole production. Here it unfolded against a backdrop of green light and
projected images of rain, with shadowy figures flitting from left to right.
This was interesting, but hardly enough to sustain interest for that period
of time. Nor did it vary, although the score itself is characterized by
distinct developmental phases. This was disappointing because Marc
Albrecht’s conducting shaped these changing themes very clearly, for they
define the duality that is fundamental to the whole opera.
Albrecht’s approach revealed the underlying structure. Wagner wields
leitmotivs like weapons. By juxtaposing the sailor’s cheery love songs with
the savagery of the music associated with the storm and the Dutchman, he
draws contrasts, between stability and chaos. Particularly brilliant are the
crosscurrents in Act Three, throwing the music of the village against the
music of the haunted sailors. This act depicts a “storm on land”, just as
the first depicts a storm at sea. Keeping the different ensembles distinct is
important here, and takes some sophistication. But the Royal Opera House
Chorus excels in intricate ensemble. At last the production sprang to life,
animated by the sheer vitality of the singing.
A scene from Der fliegende Holländer with Anja Kampe (Senta) in the foreground
Indeed, the role of the chorus in this opera is sometimes underplayed
since attention usually centres on the Dutchman and on Senta. The influence
of Weber still hung heavily on Wagner. Some of these choruses are reminiscent
of Der Freischütz, another tale of demonic forces. Thus
Albrecht’s vignette-like focus reflects episodic “aria” opera tradition
rather than the overwhelming sweep of late Wagner in full sail. Der
fliegende Holländer is only the first stage of the saga.
Bryn Terfel may have been the big draw, but perhaps this production will
be remembered as the moment Anja Kampe made her name. Anyone who can steal a
scene from Terfel is worth listening to. From Kampe’s small frame emanated
a voice of great power, enhanced by an understanding of Senta’s role. Even
before she meets the Dutchman, she fantasizes about him. The other women work
in a factory, but Senta is by nature a non-conformist, drawn to the wildness
that the Dutchman symbolises. No wonder she knows right away she wants him,
not Erik. Senta is the prototype of Wagner’s later heroines who equate love
with death, and who find fulfilment in redeeming others. This does reflect in
many ways Wagner’s own predicaments, but the archetype becomes wilder and
more cataclysmic. Kampe probably has the ability to make much more of such
heroines in the future, given the productions that make more of the extreme
intensity - madness, even - in these roles. She’s singing Isolde at
Glyndebourne this summer, which will be something to look forward to.