05 Mar 2010
Karlsruhe: Rare Verdi, Well Done
The Baden State Theatre's new mounting of I Masnadieri may not completely be the production of one’s dreams.
Premièred in 1877 at Offenbach’s own Théâtre des Bouffes Parisiens, Emmanuel Chabrier’s L’Étoile has a libretto, by Eugène Leterrier and Albert Vanloo, which stirs the blackly comic, the farcical and the bizarre into a surreal melange, blending contemporary satire with the frankly outlandish.
Robert Ashley’s opera-novel Quicksand makes for a novel experience
One of the leading Russian composers of his generation, Alexander Raskatov’s reputation in the UK and western Europe derives from several, recent large-scale compositions, such as his reconstruction of Alfred Schnittke’s Ninth Symphony from a barely legible manuscript (the work was first performed in 2007 in the Dresden Frauenkirche by the Dresden Philharmonic under Dennis Russell Davies), and his 2010 opera A Dog’s Heart, based on Mikhail Bulgakov’s satire (which was directed by Simon McBurney at English National Opera in 2010, following the opera’s premiere at Netherlands Opera earlier that year).
I’m not sure that St John’s Smith Square was the most appropriate venue for Opera Danube’s latest production: Jacques Offenbach’s satirical frolic, Orpheus in the Underworld.
This nasty little opera evening in Lyon lived up to the opera’s initial reputation as pure pornophony. This is the erotic Shostakovich of the D minor cello sonata, it is the sarcastic and complicated Shostakovich of The Nose . . .
During December 2015 and presently in January Lyric Opera of Chicago has featured the world premiere of the opera Bel Canto, with music by Jimmy López and libretto by Nilo Cruz, based on the novel by Ann Patchett.
Christmas at the Royal Opera House is all about magic, mystery and miracles: as represented by the conjuror’s exploits in The Nutcracker — with its Kingdom of Sweets and Sugar Plum Fairy — or, as in the Linbury Theatre this year, the fantastical adventures of the Firework-Maker’s Daughter, Lila, and her companions — a lovesick elephant, swashbuckling pirates, tropical beasts and Fire-Fiends.
The title role is a deciding factor in Madama Butterfly. Despite a last-minute conductor cancellation, last Saturday’s concert performance at the Concertgebouw was a resounding success, thanks to Lianna Haroutounian’s opulent, heart-stealing Cio-Cio-San.
With this performance of vocal and instrumental works composed by the 10-year-old Mozart and his contemporaries during 1766, Classical Opera entered the second year of their 27-year project, MOZART 250, which is designed to ‘contextualise the development and influences of [sic] the composer’s artistic personality’ and, more audaciously, to ‘follow the path that subsequently led to some of the greatest cornerstones of our civilisation’.
Luca Pisaroni and Wolfram Rieger were due to give the latest installment in the Wigmore Hall's complete Schubert songs series, but both had to cancel at short notice. Fortunately, the Wigmore Hall rises to such contingencies, and gave us Benjamin Appl and Jonathan Ware. Since there's a huge buzz about Appl, this was an opportunity to hear more of what he can do.
The phrase ‘Sunday afternoon concert’ may suggest light, post-prandial entertainment, but soprano Gemma Lois Summerfield and her accompanist, Simon Lepper, swept away any such conceptions in this demanding programme at St. John’s Smith Square.
When, o when, will someone put Peter Sellars and his compendium of clichés out of our misery?
This recording, made in the Adrian Boult Hall at the Birmingham Conservatoire of Music in June 2014, is the fourth disc in SOMM’s series of recordings with Paul Spicer and the Birmingham Conservatoire Chamber Choir.
Having recently followed some by-ways through the music of Purcell, Monteverdi and Cavalli, L’Arpeggiata turned the spotlight on traditional folk music in this characteristically vibrant and high-spirited performance at the Wigmore Hall.
Edward Gardner brought all his experience as a choral and opera conductor to bear in this stirring performance of Michael Tippett’s A Child of Our Time at the Barbican Hall, with a fine cast of soloists, the BBC Symphony Orchestra and BBC Symphony Chorus.
‘Apt for voices or viols’: eager to maximise sales among the domestic market in Elizabethan England, publishers emphasised that the music contained in collections such as Thomas Morley’s First Book of Madrigals to Four Voices of 1594 was suitable for performance by any combination of singers and players.
It was a single title but a double bill and there was far more happening than Gordon Getty and Claude Debussy. Starting with Edgar Allen Poe.
For its latest production of the current season Lyric Opera of Chicago is presenting Franz Lehár’s The Merry Widow (Die lustige Witwe) featuring Renée Fleming /Nicole Cabell as the widow Hanna Glawari and Thomas Hampson as Count Danilo Danilovich.
Mezzo-soprano Cecilia Bartoli has been a regular favourite at the Concertgebouw in Amsterdam since 1996. Her verastile concerts are always carefully constructed and delivered with irrepressible energy and artistic commitment.
When Italian director Damiano Michieletto visited Covent Garden in June this year, he spiced Rossini’s Guillaume Tell with a graphic and, many felt, gratuitous rape scene that caused outrage and protest.
The Baden State Theatre's new mounting of I Masnadieri may not completely be the production of one’s dreams.
But then, does anyone really dream of I Masnadieri? One thing absolutely dreamy about the performance was the starry cast, a first rate quartet of soloists that could hold its own in any major international house. Indeed, when I remarked to a Viennese colleague that I thought the Staatsoper might be happy with these fine vocalists he retorted: “Are you kidding? They would be jealous!”
Barbara Dobrzanska continues to be one of my most favorite spinto sopranos. Having first been bowled over by her Suor Angelica, I subsequently marveled at her Butterfly, admired her Desdemona and Elisabetta in equal measure, and was wrung out emotionally by her tender Liu. But Amalia is one of those early-mid-Verdi hybrid roles that requires in equal part: steely dramatic output over the sometimes noisily scored oom-pah-ing band, heroic Bellini-holdover lyric singing, and Donizettian coloratura fireworks (make up your mind, Giuseppe!). True to form, the Divine Miss D swept all those challenges before her with great elan.
Klaus Schneider as Arminio
As ever, her knowing skill in crafting an arching vocal line was informed by her unerring musicality as she presented a well-rounded, varied, and eminently interesting characterization. What was a revelation to me was the facility with which she casually tossed off the exposed roulades and fiorituri, and the telling way each vocal gesture was meaningfully couched. Add to this Barbara’s sincere acting and unaffected stage presence, and we have yet another memorable role form this highly talented artist. Don’t know why she is not regularly treading the world stages by now, but the local public should (and does) rejoice in her continued presence in Karlsruhe.
Another company treasure is tenor Keith Ikaia-Purdy who seems born to sing these Verdi heroes. Although his burnished, ringing tone really shines above the staff, there is a warmly solid presence in the lower reaches as well. That said, the first aria lies a bit ungratefully in the fringes just upward of the middle of the voice, although he negotiated it reliably with his sound technique and professional skill. It was after this opening number that Mr. Ikaia-Purdy really came into his own, and he lavished us with some beautiful phrasing and heartfelt commitment, full of Bergonzian portamento and Verdian temperament. Moreover, he and Ms. Dobrzanska partner each other exceptionally well, and as they rose above the orchestra at full volume, the exquisite outpouring of molten vocalism was overwhelming.
Kammersänger Konstantin Gorny contributed a beautifully judged account of not only Massimiliano, but also Pastor Moser. His richly orotund, cavernous bass is powerfully deployed to outstanding effect. Mr. Gorny wrung the most out his every phrase, and is a stylish Verdian. His instrument lacks the biting edge of many other Russian singers (not a bad thing!), and when the orchestra is playing fortissimo he can blend into the instrumental fabric a bit. But this is a very minor observation in what was a commanding portrayal.
Baritone Stefan Stoll rounded out the quartet with an assured assumption of the role of Francseco. Mr. Stoll has a real Italianate ping in his upper register, and especially relished the many high-lying outbursts that gave great pleasure. Lower down, the tone got a bit more diffuse, sounding more German-generic, although always healthy and well-placed. In the small role of Arminio, Klaus Schneider was secure and did all that was required.
Barbara Dobrzanska as Amalia, Konstantin Gorny as Massimiliano/Moser, Stefan Stoll as Francesco and Klaus Schneider as Arminio
The orchestra had an exceptionally fine evening, playing with brio and stylistic acumen under the inspiring baton of conductor Jochem Hochstenbach. The Maestro not only found good variety in this lesser Verdi, but also maintained the dramatic shape with an unerring sense of pace and color. Johann Ludwig’s cello solo was achingly beautiful. The chorus (and ‘extra’ Chor) were schooled to a fare-thee-well (or an addio) by Ulrich Wagner.
Director Alexander Schulin’s idiosyncratic staging was quirky, to be sure, but he displayed the great, rare gift of making the relationships deeply personal and believably clarifying the story. This is no mean feat, given that the far-fetched machinations of the libretto pretty much follow the improbabilities of the original Schiller concoction. Mr. Schulin started with an imposing unit design by Christoph Sehl as realized by Michele Lorenzini. At curtain rise, a coolly beautiful, blue-green tinted photo-realistic forest drop was revealed. The three leading men wandered variously across the stage in front of it, passing each other without acknowledgment, like lost souls in Purgatory. So far so good.
The drop subsequently flew out to reveal an imposing two-story family manse with a large main reception hall stage left, a stairwell and landing in the center, and a greenhouse stage right topped by a second floor bed room/study, all meticulously constructed and dressed with meaningful, well-chosen furnishings. Behind it was an identical forest drop. And that, my friends, was all. And it was more than enough. In fact, it was splendidly compact.
Carlo plays his first scene isolated in the greenhouse (forest). Bad boy Francesco commandeers and prowls his space in the bed room above like Scarpia in the Farnese Palace. Massimiliano presides over the immense drawing room. Amalia first wanders the stairwell, belonging to none of the above. Lest these visuals sound blunt or obvious, they were essential in establishing and defining the shifting levels of power between the principals.
Konstantin Gorny as Massimiliano/Moser
Mr. Schulin showed a deft touch with any number of problematic plot points. Massimiliano’s false “death” was beautifully communicated to us with a subtle ‘take’ from Francesco. The dramatic device of then plopping the coffin on Francesco’s (power) bed as a bier was inspired. The musico-dramatic device of doubling the bass to also sing the priest was brilliant, with the baritone therefore confessing his transgressions not just to a “father” but to “his” father. The similar doubling of Carlo as Rolla, however, made no sense whatsoever. (Ah well, it saved another singer’s fee…)
Although almost all of Ursina Zürcher’s brooding costumes were right on the mark in helping with character development, one widely missed the mark for me, and unfortunately that was the molting Schmatte that was thrown on Amalia, who started out looking like a frump in an ill-fitting cocktail dress at the opening of a Chattanooga Shopping Mall. Over time, one rumply layer after another was torn away and although Barbara looked progressively more shapely, I wish wish I could say that any of the variations truly flattered the diva as she should be.
One such strip tease was the result of Francesco having begun to manhandle her, with her shimmying out of his grasp leaving a layer of organdy. The over-sexed baritone had obviously been told to communicate arousal, but once he had possession of her dress I was not sure if he wanted to climax on it or wear it. (Or both?) The director also frequently has the principals doing stage business in their “room” while a solo is being sung in another. A less experienced hand (or cast) could easily become a distraction, but it is to everyone’s credit that the whole staging is well-calculated to point up dramatic focus. The company was greatly assisted by the well-conceived and atmospheric lighting design from Stefan Woinke.
Karlsruhe has served up a rare treat with its theatrically cogent, musically vivid, immensely satisfying I Masnadieri.