Recently in Performances
It is not an everyday opera. It is an opera that illuminates a larger verismo history.
On March 26, 2015, Los Angeles Opera presented Mozart’s Le nozze di Figaro (The Marriage of Figaro). The Ian Judge production featured jewel-colored box sets by Tim Goodchild that threw the voices out into the hall. Only for the finale did the set open up on to a garden that filled the whole stage and at the very end featured actual fireworks.
Gotham Chamber Opera’s latest project, The Tempest Songbook, continues to
explore the possibilities of unconventional spaces and unconventional programs
that the company has made its hallmark. The results were musically and
theatrically thought-provoking, and left me wanting more.
Nixon in China is a three-act opera with a libretto by Alice Goodman and music by John Adams that was first seen at the Houston Grand Opera on October 22, 1987. It was the first of a notable line of operas by the composer.
It is thanks to Céline Ricci, mezzo-soprano and director of Ars Minerva, that we have been able to again hear Daniele Castrovillari’s exquisite melodies because she is the musician who has brought his 1662 opera La Cleopatra to life.
Lyric Opera of Chicago, in association with the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, has staged a production of Richard Wagner’s Tannhäuser with an estimable cast.
Puccini and his fellow verismo-ists are commonly associated with explosions of unbridled human passion and raw, violent pain, but in this revival (by Justin Way) of Moshe Leiser’s and Patrice Caurier’s 2003 production of Madame Butterfly, directorial understatement together with ravishing scenic beauty are shown to be more potent ways of enabling the sung voice to reveal the emotional depths of human tragedy.
Rarely, very rarely does a Tosca come around that you can get excited about. Sure, sometimes there is good singing, less often good conducting but rarely is there a mise en scène that goes beyond stock opera vocabulary.
The Nash Ensemble’s 50th Anniversary Celebrations at the Wigmore Hall were crowned by a recital that typifies the Nash’s visionary mission. Above, the dearly-loved founder, Amelia Freeman, a quietly revolutionary figure in her own way, who has immeasurably enriched the cultural life of this country.
On March 7, 2015, Arizona Opera presented Dan Rigazzi’s production of Die Zauberflöte in Tucson. Inspired by the works of René Magritte, designer John Pollard filled the stage with various sizes of picture frames, windows, and portals from which he leads us into Mozart and Schikaneder’s dream world.
There are some concert programmes which are not just wonderful in their execution but also delight and satisfy because of the ‘rightness’ of their composition. This Wigmore Hall recital by soprano Carolyn Sampson and three period-instrument experts of arias and instrumental pieces by Henry Purcell was one such occasion.
It has been a cold and gray winter in the south of France (where I live) made splendid by some really good opera, followed just now by splendid sunshine at Trafalgar Square and two exquisite productions at English National Opera.
At long last, Rise and Fall of the City of Mahagonny has come to the Royal Opera House. Kurt Weill’s teacher, Busoni, remains scandalously ignored, but a season which includes house firsts both of this opera and Szymanowsi’s King Roger, cannot be all bad.
Unsuk Chin’s Alice in Wonderland returned to the Barbican,
London, shape-shifted like one of Alice’s adventures. The BBC Symphony
Orchestra was assembled en masse, almost teetering off stage, creating
a sense of tension. “Eat me, Drink me”. Was Lewis Carroll on hallucinogens
or just good at channeling the crazy world of the subconscious?
Dominic Cooke’s 2005 staging of The Magic Flute and Richard Jones’s 1998 production of Hansel and Gretel have been brought together for Welsh National Opera’s spring tour under the unifying moniker, Spellbound.
Gaetano Donizetti and Malcolm Arnold might seem odd operatic bedfellows, but this double bill by the Guildhall School of Music and Drama offered a pair of works characterised by ‘madness, misunderstandings and mistaken identity’ which proved witty, sparkling and imaginatively realised.
Saturday, February 28, 2015, was the first night for Los Angeles Opera’s revival of its 2009 presentation of The Barber of Seville, a production by Emilio Sagi, which comes originally from Teatro Real in Madrid in cooperation with Lisbon’s Teatro San Carlos. Sagi and onsite director, Trevor Ross, made comedy the focus of their production and provided myriad sight gags which kept the audience laughing.
Commenting on her recent, highly acclaimed CD release of late-nineteenth-century song, Chansons Perpétuelles (Naive: V5355), Canadian contralto Marie-Nicole Lemieux remarked ‘it’s that intimate side that interests me
I wanted to emphasise the genuinely embodied, physical side of the sensuality [in Fauré]’.
An evening of strange-bedfellow one-acts in high-concept stagings, mindbogglingly delightful.
On February 19, 2015, Pacific Symphony presented its annual performance of a semi-staged opera. This year’s presentation at the Segerstrom Center for the Arts in Costa Mesa, California, featured Georges Bizet’s Carmen. Director Dean Anthony used the front of the stage and a few solid set pieces by Scenic Designer Matt Scarpino to depict the opera’s various scenes.
02 Aug 2010
Der Ferne Klang, Bard College
Franz Schreker, born in 1878, was a youth in the age in which psychoanalysis
first bloomed. In music, far from coincidentally, it was the post-Wagnerian era
when western tonality had been liberated from traditional rules but was
uncertain which new path to take.
Schreker’s operas, most of them set to
his own libretti, explore these psychological and musical trends with a more
embittered, less sentimental style of dramaturgy than that of many other
post-Wagnerians yet a more easily accessible idiom than the atonalists chose.
The characters of Der Ferne Klang (The Distant Sound) do not find
redemption, salvation or—at the last—even each other. They succumb
to delusions and distractions, they connect only to be alienated anew. Love is
a missed chance, art a deception.
Der Ferne Klang recalls the grander Italian operas of its day
(premiere, 1912) in setting its awkward love story on a stage teaming with
minor characters. But where other composers let the crowds fall away and bring
the love story, happy or sad, to the fore, in Der Ferne Klang the
distractions grow ever louder and more insistent and the love story cannot free
itself from them. Franz, the ambitious composer, abandons his truelove, Grete,
to seek the “distant sound” that inspires his art. By the time he
encounters her again—joyously—in Act II, she has become the main
attraction in a classy Venetian brothel. His memories win her back, but then he
rejects her on when he understands her present situation. In Act III,
Franz’s opera fails on its first night—in part because a strange
woman has screamed in the balcony. It is Grete, of course, now a streetwalker,
the one person deeply moved by Franz’s music. Franz repents his follies
in an ecstatic duet with her that climaxes in his collapse. Only then does the
real Grete enter to discover his body.
The blighting of all hope—love and art—God, of course, no longer
enters the question—is the message of many Schreker operas. The musical
texture is thick, polyphonic, late romantic with its own style of melodic
flourish, occasionally savoring of Strauss or Mahler at their most neurotic.
The orchestral forces required are large and their music complicated, the
messages difficult to interpret as every motif hides behind conflicted souls
and a pervasive unreality. Perhaps Schreker’s hopelessness, his scorn of
dreamy ideals, had more than a little real connection with the era he lived in.
When the Nazis came to power they resented his contempt for illusory ideals and
resurrected his paternal Jewish ancestry—Schreker, a lifelong Catholic,
had forgotten all about it—to expel his works from the stage, himself
from his academic position. Broken, he died in 1936—sparing himself,
perhaps , a more ghastly fate down the line.
Leon Botstein, champion of so many forgotten late romantic opera composers
(Zemlinsky, Janacek, Dukas, Smyth, d’Indy …), has done a real
service to American opera-lovers in giving us our first Der Ferne
Klang, in concert in New York three years ago, and our first staged one at
Bard College this summer. Much that was mysterious about the story in the
concert performance became clear in the thrilling staging at Bard—in a
theater it is far easier to grasp that what seemed disjointed and haphazard is
intentional, the composer’s technique for telling the story he wants to
tell and not the simpler fable we may anticipate.
In the cast at Bard, interesting singers were not always able to manage
Schreker’s soaring lines over the hefty orchestra, deployed not only in
the pit but in various strategic pockets of the stage. On the opening night
performance, Yamina Maamar, who sings Kundry, Salome and Aida in Germany, took
a while to warm to her tasks as Grete’s three avatars—her voice
often failed to cut clearly through the orchestra. Only in her concluding
ecstatic duet with Fritz did she seem a major voice with a voluptuous dramatic
soprano tone color. Her acting was affecting throughout the performance.
Matthias Schulz struck lyrical notes in the higher reaches of Fritz’s
music as if the top of his range was the distant sound he was after all along,
but was less successful in his middle voice. He ably played a
fish-out-of-water, an idealist in a society full of people with practical
concerns. Veteran character baritone Marc Embree sang a persuasively ruminative
Dr. Vigelius; Susan Marie Pierson an alluring/threatening Madam (partly behind
the scrim of a silent movie); and the rest of an enthusiastic cast were at once
alarming or funny doubling many roles. As with Les Huguenots last
summer, Botstein seems to have little trouble casting operas that require a
great many effective young singers.
Thaddeus Strassberger, whose staging of Les Huguenots last summer
was inventive if not entirely convincing, contributed tremendously to audience
excitement. His use of projections, filming shadows half-seen over
half-curtains, mirrors, subtle lighting effects and (by the by) Aaron
Blicks’s lighting and Mattie Ulrich’s splendid costumes held the
attention of listeners who might have been bewildered by the multilayered score
and the intricate story. An able young ensemble of chorus and dancers made the
most of the fantasies recalling Weimar (and pre-Weimar) decadence.
Der Ferne Klang (and its sister opera, Schreker’s Der
Gezeichneten) seems destined for a considerably wider showing in this
country where, based on the response of the Bard audience, it demonstrates
tremendous appeal to the same audiences who enjoy the operas of Strauss and
Alban Berg. Botstein has done a great service in bringing it twice to our
attention. Though there was a certain lack of coordination at the opening of
Act II, Botstein’s forces (including a small band of balalaika players to
accompany the cabaret in Act II) remained in good order all night and played
many of the subtler touches audible in the opera’s quiet moments with