Houston Grand Opera commissioned Cruzar la Cara de la Luna from composer José “Pepe” Martínez, music director of Mariachi Vargas de Tecalitlán, who wrote the text together with Broadway and opera director Leonard Foglia. The work had its world premier in 2010. Since then, it has traveled to several cities including Paris, Chicago, and San Diego.
Music Theatre Wales presented the world premiere of Philip Glass’s The Trial (Kafka) last night at the Linbury, Royal Opera House. Music Theatre Wales started doing Glass in 1989. Their production of Glass’s In the Penal Colony in 2010 was such a success that Glass conceived The Trial specially for the company.
To say that the English Concert’s performance of Handel’s Alcina at the Barbican on 10 October 2014 was hotly anticipated would be an understatement. Sold out for weeks, the performance capitalised on the draw of its two principals Joyce DiDonato and Alice Coote and generated the sort of buzz which the work did at its premiere.
It was a little over two years ago that I heard Sir Colin Davis conduct the Berlioz Requiem in St Paul’s Cathedral; it was the last time I heard — or indeed saw — him conduct his beloved and loving London Symphony Orchestra.
Part of their Liberty or Death season along with Rossini’s Mose in Egitto and Bizet’s Carmen, Welsh National Opera performed David Pountney’s new production of Rossini’s Guillaume Tell (seen 4 October 2014).
In Monteverdi’s first Venetian opera, Il Ritorno d’Ulisse (1641), Penelope’s patient devotion as she waits for the return of her beloved Ulysses culminates in the triumph of love and faithfulness; in contrast, in L’incoronazione di Poppea it is the eponymous Queen’s lust, passion and ambition that prevail.
After the triumphs of love, the surprises: Les Paladins, under their director Jérôme Correas, and soprano Sandrine Piau are following their tour of material from their 2011 CD, ‘Le Triomphe de L’amour’, with a new amatory arrangement.
At the ENO, Puccini's La fanciulla del West becomes The Girl of the Golden West. Hearing this opera in English instead of Italian has its advantages, While we can still hear the exotic, Italianate Madama Butterfly fantasies in the orchestra, in English, we're closer to the original pot-boiler melodrama. Madama Biutterfly is premier cru: The Girl of the Golden West veers closer, at times, to hokum. The new ENO production gets round the implausibility of the plot by engaging with its natural innocence.
Presenting a well-structured and characterful programme, Italian soprano Anna Caterina Antonacci demonstrated her prowess in both soprano and mezzo repertoire in this Wigmore Hall recital, performing European works from the early years of the twentieth century. Assuredly accompanied by her regular pianist Donald Sulzen, Antonacci was self-composed and calm of manner, but also evinced a warmly engaging stage presence throughout.
Bampton Classical Opera’s 2014 double bill neatly balanced drollery and gravity. Rectifying the apparent prevailing indifference to the 300th centenary of Christoph Willibald Gluck birth, Bampton offered a sharp, witty production of the composer’s Il Parnaso confuso, pairing this ‘festa teatrale’ with Ferdinando Bertoni’s more sombre Orfeo.
Harry Christophers and The Sixteen Choir and Orchestra launched the Wigmore Hall’s two-year series, ‘Purcell: A Retrospective’, in splendid style. Flexibility, buoyancy and transparency were the watchwords.
On September 13, Los Angeles Opera opened its 2014-2015 season with a revival of Marta Domingo’s updated, Art Deco staging of Giuseppe Verdi’s La traviata. It starred Nino Machaidze as Violetta, Arturo Chácon-Cruz as Alfredo, and Plácido Domingo as Giorgio Germont. The conductor was Music Director James Conlon.
In its annual concert previewing the forthcoming season Lyric Opera of Chicago presented its “Stars of Lyric Opera at Millennium Park” during the past weekend to a large audience of enthusiastic listeners.
Iphigénie en Tauride at the Washington National Opera
The Washington National Opera has concluded its 2010-11 season with
Gluck’s 1779 masterpiece Iphigénie en Tauride, arguably the
great Viennese composer’s greatest achievement and his swan song (if one
does not count that unfortunate flop of 1780, Echo et Narcisse —
and luckily, one hardly ever does).
The production is also the swan song for
Placido Domingo, WNO’s departing artistic director and the star of
Iphigénie’s long-awaited and much-acclaimed 2007 revival at the
Met. Although the DC audiences who missed that event (last reprised in February
this year) were in for a treat in experiencing Domingo’s masterly
Orestes, the fabulous Stephen Wadsworth production in which he appeared did not
— alas! — accompany him from New York. Instead, we saw a creation
of Spanish director Emilio Sagi, imported from Ópera de Oviedo, a small,
picturesque and artistically adventurous town in the Northern Spanish province
of Asturias. Yet, if there was ever a case made for choosing a locally grown
creative product over an import, this was it. The WNO Iphigénie was a
classic example of an aural triumph cloaked in a visual disaster: from the
opening chorus on, I wished that the vengeful gods of Olympus would strike me
blind and let me enjoy a wonderful opera in a truly superior performance while
sparing me the ugliness on stage.
If one had to choose, the industrial-looking sets by Luis Antonio Suarez
were the least objectionable element of the Oviedo production. The
metal-and-concrete box that, according to Suarez, doubled as the
heroine’s temple and her prison was a reasonable contemporary
interpretation of the plot. Indeed, watching the singers in floor-length
costumes climbing up and down flimsy metal ladders built into the concrete
while trying to produce an acceptable sound was a heart-stopping experience,
designed no doubt to increase dramatic tension. The back of the set, a cross
between a gigantic wrought-iron gate and a mosaic of mirrored glass, was
actually attractive, and the minimalistic set of Act 3, with its metal
floor-length torch, modernist angular white armchair, and stone back wall that
opened out into the starry night was an effective conceit. But the costumes by
Oviedo’s own Pepa Ojanguren were to die for — and not in a good
way. The highlights included loosely hanging black tunics, pants, and skirts;
cloaks of cheap plastic for the warriors and one-piece bathing suits for the
dancers; and the horribly lurid black lycra bodices that made the choristers
look like they were wearing bargain trash bags (dare one make a bad pun on
“Eurotrash” at this point?). I am still puzzled over the vision of
lead dancer and choreographer Diniz Sanchez bouncing around the stage on
high-tech curved metal stilts — that is, when he was not clinging for
dear life to Iphigenia’s shoulders, lest he lose his balance and tumble
into the orchestra pit. I am not certain, however, if that particular detail
should be credited to the choreographer himself or to the stage director: both
seemed determined to design all stage movements either for Olympic athletes or
ballet dancers, without the slightest concern for the performers who would
actually have to execute their ideas. For instance, the living chain of
priestesses, their bare arms on each other’s shoulders, might prove
attractive, even affecting in Giselle, but instead looked merely
embarrassing on the ladies of the WNO choir, who do not all wear size two, and
who deserve much praise for delivering beautiful renditions of
Iphigénie’s stunning choruses, despite their predicament.
The same can be said for American soprano Patricia Racette, who brought both
vocal prowess (with only an occasional muddiness on highs) and powerful drama
to her portrayal of Iphigenia. That is, when her considerable acting talent was
not stymied by the stage director. Evidently torn between a realistic and a
symbolic interpretation of her character, Sagi produced neither, instead
punctuating Racette’s part with random swoons and melodramatic clutching
of the stomach. This approach looked particularly bizarre in the opening scene,
in which the ingenious effect of projecting images of swirling storm clouds
onto the gauze front curtain (lighting designer Eduardo Bravo) was entirely
ruined by awkward acting behind the gauze. The audience was left to wonder
whether Iphigenia and her priestesses were being battered by the waves or
suffering from an acute case of seasickness.
The music-drama contradictions in Pilade’s character, however, should
likely be attributed not to the director but to Shawn Mathey, American tenor
cast in the role. It is perfectly understandable why Mathey would be tempted to
make Pilade a Heldentenor: in the story, Pilades is indeed a hero, who
in the opera’s finale rescues his friend Orestes and Iphigenia from the
clutches of the tyrant Thoas (the fabulously menacing Simone Alberghini —
the only singer who really owned that black lycra). Unfortunately (and rarely
for this superb opera), the score does not support the libretto here. The part
is written for a haute-contre — a very high, light, almost
feminine tenor timbre, more appropriate for an over-excited adolescent (or a
wimpy Don Ottavio — Mathey’s most recent part on the WNO stage)
than a heroic young warrior. It is not the bravura of his Act 3
“to-the-rescue” aria, but the languid, mildly erotic grace of the
Act 2 romance that define Gluck’s Pilade — and appropriately, it
was the romance and not the aria in which Mathey shined.
Overall, despite the youth of many soloists (four of them Domingo-Cafritz
Young Artists), the vocal quality of the performance was surprisingly and
consistently excellent from the beginning of Act 1. Yet, the first note out of
Placido Domingo’s mouth in the Act 1 finale puts us on notice: the king
of the Greeks has arrived. Domingo’s magnificent Orestes has been much
discussed since he took up the baritone part in the 2007 Met production. The
dramatic intensity he brings to the role makes one forget his age, his tenor
past, even his star power: we see only the character, and forget to applaud the
performer (which, of course, was the goal of Gluck’s opera reform that
gave birth to Iphigénie). It is a good thing too, for there are few
moments in the score that allow for an applause break, and fewer still in the
part of Orestes: with the exception of his Act 2 monolog, that
character’s best moments are ensemble scenes (such as his duets with
Pilades, and the Act 3 trio with Pilades and Iphigenia) and occasional
throw-away lines of declamation, such as the single phrase allowed him in Act
1, which he rendered with the perfectly pitched, beautifully delivered anguish.
The role of Orestes is well suited to the Domingo of today: it offers the lower
vocal range he now prefers; and the patented absence of fast coloratura allows
the singer to showcase an impeccably contoured and virtually unadorned bel
canto line molded flawlessly to the declamation, as Gluck’s music
submits to the demands of the drama.
The only issues that arose throughout the performance were not of
Domingo’s own making. An occasional lapse in projection in Act 3 was a
gift of the director who positioned Orestes at the very back of the stage with
his back to the audience. As for the moments during which the singer seemed to
have trouble catching up with the orchestra, this concern was shared by all the
soloists and the chorus and must be attributed to some unaccountably brisk
tempos selected by conductor William Lacey — a particularly dicey
proposition, considering that the chorus rarely had the luxury of facing the
baton, while Domingo and Mathey spent the opening scene of Act 2 blind-folded.
On the other hand, the British conductor elicited an unexpectedly strong, clean
performance from the WNO orchestra, typically the company’s weakest link.
Granted, this feat might have been made possible by the absence of several
habitual offenders from the wind and brass sections in Gluck’s
On the whole, despite its ups and downs, the WNO presentation of
Iphigénie en Tauride has been a testament to the enduring power of
Gluck’s chef-d’oeuvre, reminding us of the heights to
which its drama can be lifted by a great interpreter, and thankfully, of the
score’s ability to overcome the deficiencies of a mediocre one. Not that
this opera needs much interpreting: unlike much of the pre-Mozart repertoire,
it does not feel out of place on a modern stage. Instead, it offers high-minded
tragedy, revealed through flexible declamation and ensemble dialog, rather than
high-powered solo numbers — an approach embraced in many contemporary
operas. But unlike their music, viewed sometimes as too dissonant and
forbidding, Gluck’s score is transcendently beautiful, selling the
concept of operatic ensemble drama to an audience raised on the Romantic
era’s coloratura tours-de-force. I hope we shall see this work often. I
also hope that when next Iphigenia of Tauris arrives in Washington DC, she is
not only a pleasure to hear, but also a pleasure to watch.