21 Jun 2011
A funny thing happened on the way to Anna Bolena…
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?
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.
Verdi Giovanna d'Arco at Teatro alla Scala, Milan, starting the new season. Primas at La Scala are a state occasion, attended by the President of Italy and other dignitaries.
A funny thing happened on the way to Anna Bolena…
Zurich Opera, finding itself without its star mezzo (Elīna Garanča fell ill) and finding no viable substitute, re-purposed much of the Donizetti cast, rang up diva Inva Mula and superstar Jonas Kaufmann, and had themselves a gala-quality La Bohème (or, Anna Bohema, if you will) instead.
Having recently “done” the Puccini opus in Catania, and having already experienced this same Swiss production on DVD, I must say my enthusiasm was dampened as I entered the theatre. Routine Puccini seemed to loom in place of rare Donizetti. Still, I mused, I could see how well the production fared “live” and probably enjoy the starry line up.
Imagine my pleasant surprise when, from the downbeat, I was mesmerized.
Vincent Lemaire’s spare set design works wondrously well. A basic raised platform spanning the width of he stage is flanked by multi-purpose walls left (with household cabinet inset that swaps out with other scenic elements) and right (the obligatory door to the garret that doubles as Act Three’s Inn entrance). A claustrophobic skylight presses down on the opening scene, and a back wall is topped by cutouts of Parisian rooftops poking up over the ceiling. An omnipresent stove with smokestack craning jauntily upward remains down center left throughout, and the few requisite pieces of furniture complete the shabby lodgings. In a brilliant visual coup, as Act Two’s first chord sounds in a breathless segue from Mimi and Rodolfo’s Act One exit, the upstage wall falls backward in a glance and opens the apartment playing space to encompass the full stage, a “street” which immediately fills with revelers as the skylight flies up and away. Act Three simply re-dresses the platform once again with a simple addition of a bench, a “buffet” sign at the inn and a customs office window where the garret’s cabinet had been. All of this was atmospherically lit by Hans-Rudolf Kunz (with one caveat below), and ingeniously costumed in riffs on 60’s Free-Love garb by Jorge Jara.
Jonas Kaufmann achieved world star status while coming of age in a variety of roles in this house, and he continues to have a special relationship with the Zurich Publikum. Were any proof needed for his world-wide acclaim, Mr. Kaufmann provided it in abundance. First, he has an actor’s instincts for subtle character development and encompasses a richly diverse Rodolfo in physical action as well as vocalization. Yes, he covers the voice on occasion, most usually on introspective phrases, but the trick pays off in deeply felt effects. On this occasion the role’s high-flying, soaring phrases rang out with thrilling, gleaming, full-throated tone every bit as Italianate as my recent encounter with Giordani’s interpretation. He did misjudge the very end of the Act One duet, starting out taking the lower harmony with Mimi, and then flipping up to the unison/octave high note in voix mixe. Not bad, secure enough, just …odd. Still, this was a consummate performance from one of the world’s leading singers, and the shouts of approval and cadenced clapping greeting Jonas at curtain call threatened to bring the plaster down off the ceiling.
Nor was he alone in his triumph. Inva Mula is an ideal Mimi, petite and youthful in demeanor, yet with a soprano mature enough to handle every spinto demand of the role’s heavier going. Her “Mi chiamano Mimi” was both a model of clarity for its character exposition, and a Masters Class in how to build and shape an aria. The substantial pregnant pause before she began “ma quando vien lo sgelo” had us on the edge of our seats in anticipation as Ms. Mula drew us into most willingly into Mimi’s world with what seemed liked a giant “exhale’ of a phrase. Her full-bodied lyric has just a bit of an edge giving the voice a vibrant presence in all registers and volumes. A treasureable performance.
Massimo Cavalletti contributed a memorable Marcello, not only for the straight forward deployment of his rich and robust baritone, but also for his winning stage demeanor and personal investment in the emotional ‘money’ moments. Carlo Colombara proved to be another audience favorite for his soundly sung, unusually specific Colline, whose ‘Coat Aria’ was characterful and moving. Cheyne Davidson was the high-caliber Schaunard, rounding out the quartet with his solid singing easy stage deportment.
Eva Mei, who was to have sung the title part in Anna Bolena, did not face near the same challenges as Musetta, but the glamorous and gifted Ms. Mei threw herself into the proceedings with relish, and regaled us with some delightful sights and sounds. Making the most of every opportunity, she negotiated her creamy soprano through a wholly engaging “Quando m’en vo,” dominating Act Two as she must. Proving a wonderful collaborator, in later acts Eva ceded the focus to her colleagues all the while remaining dramatically engaged in a well-rounded, ‘human’ interpretation. Davide Fersini was an unusually youthful, opportunistic, and well sung Benoit; Giuseppe Scorsin provided the ‘glue’ needed to hold together Act Two as Alcindoro; and Carl Hieger was the secure Parpignol. Ernst Raffelsberger’s chorus sang cleanly and enthusiastically.
Ulrich Senn has re-mounted Philippe Sireuil’s direction with marvelous results. I have seldom seen characterizations and inter-relationships so richly detailed, so grounded in truth, so well-motivated, and so excitingly blocked. The by-play between Marcello and Rodolfo, for example established a loving, almost co-dependent relationship that was reinforced right up until the last moment, when Marcello tightly hugs and physically restrains Rodolfo from going to Mimi’s corpse. What a powerful moment! I never thought I could be moved to tears at the end of this chestnut, but there I was blubbering like Cher after her Met visit in “Moonstruck.” Mimi’s final moments were similarly well crafted, with her lying on her side, suggesting a fetal position. When her hand fell out of the muff she looked for all the world like a wounded bird who had fallen from a tree. There were so many creative touches that were so right, so fresh, so telling, that it would be impossible to discuss them all here. This kind of inspired specificity is what fine direction is about.
A very small quibble, though, which I hope future revivals might correct: the solo character placement in Act II needed focus, perhaps only so much as better lighting specials. Puccini paints a busy canvas in the Momus scene and the principals occasionally got lost in the bustle. But, even with that small consideration, this was a stunning achievement.
Javier Camarena and Massimo Cavaletti
Maestro Massimo Zanetti paced the proceedings with infectious drive, infusing the performance with a freshness and spontaneity I did not think possible with this thrice-familiar opera. He also proved an amiable partner for his exceptional soloists, seeming to live the scenes with them, enabling moments of exceptional impact. The first rate pit responded with luminous playing throughout.
Would that conductor Daniele Gatti have been infected by such inspiration , for the next night’s Falstaff was not helped by his atypically detached musical leadership. Some of the great moments of Verdi’s final work scored their full effect, to be sure, but others, like the male and female quartets dueling in different meters hung together, but were not seamless. Ditto the “pizzica-stuzzica” ensemble which lacked the cleanliness it needs to sparkle. I have long admired Maestro Gatti, but this night he too often seemed distracted.
There was a lot to admire in the accomplished cast, however, not least of which were the Nanetta and Fenton of Eva Liebau and Javier Camarena. Ms. Liebau has the sort of youthful, crystal clear, shimmering soprano that is a perfect fit for Nanetta’s lyrical flights of fancy. The best tunes in the show are split between her and Mr. Camarena who regales us with a simply gorgeous, wide-ranging, dulcet tenor, effortlessly produced, that blossoms more the higher it goes. Massimo Cavalletti was back on stage with a potent, rafter-rattling turn as Ford; ditto Eva Mei with her well-sung and finely tuned characterization as a wilier-than-usual Alice Ford. The role of Mrs. Quickly suits Yvonne Naef to a tee, and she relished every phrase of it, putting her imposing lower middle and chest registers in over drive, and her wicked sense of fun on full alert. I have never heard Ms. Naef perform better. How utterly delightful it was for once to have a Meg Page that held her own with the other three (better-drawn) ladies’ roles. Judith Schmid was a determined foil and her sassy, ringing mezzo had fiery intent.
I wanted to like Anthony Michaels-Moore’s seasoned Falstaff more. He has certainly performed the role widely, he has the physique du role, and he has a charismatic presence. But the part seemed to be pitched about a third too low for the core of his resonant baritone, diminishing the impact of several key phrases. AM-M seemed game for anything and he was an assured, fleet-footed protagonist, although on occasion his attempts to make some cute on-stage moves came off a bit fey for such a womanizing lecher.
Peter Straka was a capable Dr. Cajus; the reliable Martin Zyssett an appropriately scruffy Bardolfo; and Davide Fersini gave us an unusually well-sung Pistola. Domeni Gloor was given more stage time than is common, and the young lad acquitted himself commendably.
Scene from Falstaff
Set Designer Rolf Glittenberg provided a very handsome playing space, with solid side walls and vaulted ceiling creating a ‘house’ out of white louvered panels. The back wall had stylized, changeable open windows and doors that gave way to a floral wallpaper in Ford’s house and then in the forest scene, to a shimmering beaded curtain with a huge Herne’s Oak pattern in the bead work. Juergen Hoffmann devised a pretty straight forward light plot, but also came up with some wonderful fantasy effects for the forest scene. Marianne Glittenberg’s costumes were eye-catching if curious. Like some of the props and set dressing, the attire in the home was inspired by 1950’s fashions, while the Garter Inn scenes were inspired by Shakespearean times. Not unpleasing, and they were all character-specific, just…curious.
There were fewer oddities in Sven-Eric Bechtolf’s direction, and he managed the traffic well enough with straight forward blocking. But Bechtolf also miscued a couple of surefire moments like the kiss-behind-the-screen which was simply not heard, and the basket toss out the window which simply didn’t ‘read.’ Too, the double marriage was clumsily managed and visually implausible. In the end though, Zurich’s talented principals carried the day, supported by some intriguing design choices and an unobtrusive director, and Mr. Gatti rallied the assembled forces to a taut and compelling finale which sent at least this ‘fool’ out of the theatre with a smile on his face.