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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.
15 Nov 2009
Die Rheinnixen by New Sussex Opera
London has long been spoiled in the operatic rarity department, thanks to companies like Opera Rara, Chelsea Opera Group and University College Opera populating various areas of the Venn diagram that is obscure repertoire.
so, there remain gaps that even these pioneers fail to reach — at which
point, enter New Sussex Opera, in the first of what I hope will be a regular
series of visits to the capital.
It is not widely known that Offenbach ever ventured into German grand opera,
though a recording of Die Rheinnixen finally became available in 2005
thanks to the Orchestre de Montpelier (the disc was reviewed on this site).
Though Rhine Fairies are most familiar in operatic terms because of Wagner, an
audience at Offenbach’s opera would be forgiven for not realising there
was any common ground. Offenbach’s Rhine Fairies are a hybrid of a number
of different myths, from the Lorelei of popular legend to the jilted
maiden-spirits of Giselle.
The English rendition of the libretto has its clumsy moments, and although
some (such as switching between ‘thee’ and ‘you’ for
the sake of a rhyme) can be put down to the translator, tenor Neil Jenkins, the
majority of the unintentional humour is pretty inevitable. Cynics might say
that singing in a foreign language covers a multitude of sins — and this
is one of those operas where performance in translation serves to remove the
only layer of disguise from the sheer ludicrousness of the plot. We have an
amnesiac hero (thanks to a war-wound) who is shocked into recovering his senses
on the spot, long-lost family relationships being revealed at every turn, and
supernatural forces which overshadow the lives of the central characters. At
the centre of it all is a saintly heroine so fragile that singing too
strenuously almost kills her — an archetype which Offenbach took one step
further in Hoffmann (and another metaphor for the dangerous power of female
sexuality). That’s not the only thing which almost happens — a
devastating Wagnerian ending is narrowly averted when, as the principal
characters prepare to evade enemy capture by blowing up a strategically-placed
ammunition dump with themselves in it, the Rhine Fairies lure the baddies over
a precipice to their death and the goodies all breathe a sigh of relief and
live happily ever after. The opera predates Götterdämmerung by more than a
decade, but it’s difficult not to make the comparison.
A more than decent cast was assembled for the occasion: as the heroine,
Armgard, Kate Valentine struck the balance of youth and maturity with a capable
and sweet-edged lyric soprano and a firm and centred stage presence. As Franz,
David Curry, made an ardent lover, though was occasionally a little pallid and
strained in the top register, with a tendency to oversing. The more memorable
performances were in the older roles, with Anne-Marie Owens supplying a
dramatic centre in the pivotal role of Hedwig, Armgard’s mother whose
past youthful exploits with the now enemy, Conrad von Wenckheim, bring about
almost all of the plot’s developments. Quentin Hayes was a strong and
masculine Conrad, and Daniel Grice was sympathetic in the role of Gottfried
(here, in translation, Godfrey) — the true friend who never quite manages
to get the girl.
The chorus sang idiomatically, and the smaller roles were taken more than
ably by members of the amateur company. Conductor Nicholas Jenkins drew a clean
and poised performance from the orchestra, and the score has plenty to
recommend it. Offenbach inventively evokes a Germanic sound-world —
Franz’s ethereal entrance-aria almost seems to prefigure the way Mahler
used some of the Des Knaben Wunderhorn tunes in his early symphonies.
The imagination in the rest of the score should not be underestimated, and
would no doubt be easier to appreciate if Hoffmann had not remained so
firmly in the repertoire while Die Rheinnixen was as good as lost for
over a century. The composer reused so much of Rheinnixen in his later
work that listening to it can be quite disorientating. It takes an open mind to
think of the ‘Barcarolle’, and its introduction, were originally
intended to depict not the hypnotic stasis of Venetian canals but the waters of
a river which — thanks again to Wagner — most opera-lovers have
come to associate with primeval E flat chords. The Rhine-Fairies themselves
have the most obvious leitmotiv of the piece, a rising and falling
chromatic triplet figure, first introduced in Armgard’s Act 1 aria.
New Sussex Opera has expressed a hope that some of its future productions
— which, if an audience questionnaire included in the programme is
anything to go by, might include Wagner’s Die Feen,
Chabrier’s L’etoile and Gounod’s Mireille
— might bring the company back to London. On this evidence, let’s
Ruth Elleson © 2009