“Man is an abyss. It makes one dizzy to look into it.” So utters Georg Büchner’s Woyzeck, repeating what was also a recurring motif in the playwright’s own letters.
National Opera Company of the Rhine has marked this year’s Benjamin Britten celebration with a remarkably compelling, often gripping new production of the seldom-seen Owen Wingrave.
Once upon a time, Frankfurt Opera had the baddest ass reputation in Germany as “the” cutting edge producer of must-see opera.
Productions of Giuseppe Verdi’s Rigoletto can serve as a vehicle for individual singers to make a strong impression and become afterward associated with specific roles in the opera.
Just in case we were not aware that the evening’s programme was ‘themed’, the Britten Sinfonia designed a visual accompaniment to their musical exploration of night, sleep and dreams.
Poor Aida! She never seems to have anything go her way.
Is it possible to upstage Jonas Kaufmann? Kaufmann was brilliant in this Verdi Don Carlo at the Royal Opera House, London, but the rest of the cast was so good that he was but first among equals. Don Carlo is a vehicle for stars, but this time the stars were everyone on stage and in the pit. Even the solo arias, glorious as they are, grow organically out of perfect ensemble. This was a performance that brought out the true beauty of Verdi's music.
The big names were absent: Duparc, D’Indy, Debussy, Ravel … and while Fauré, Chausson, Roussel and several members of Les Six put in an appearance, in less than familiar guises, this survey of French song of the early 20th century and interwar years deliberately took us on a journey through infrequently travelled terrain.
Composed between 1718 and 1720, Handel’s Esther is sometimes described as the ‘first English Oratorio’, but is in fact a hybrid form, mixing elements of oratorio, masque, pastoral and opera.
Hector Berlioz's légende dramatique, La Damnation de Faust, exists somewhere between cantata and opera. Berlioz's flexible attitude to dramatic form made the piece unworkable on the stages of early 19th century Paris and his music is so vivid that you wonder whether the piece needs staging at all.
St. John’s Smith Square was the site of Elizabeth Connell’s final London concert, intended as a farewell to London on her moving to Australia. It was rendered ultimately final by her unexpected death.
With the building of the Suez Canal, Egypt became more interesting to Western Europeans. Khedive Ismail Pasha wanted a hymn by Verdi for the opening of a new opera house in Cairo, but the composer said he did not write occasional pieces.
Back for its fourth revival, David McVicar’s 2003 production of Mozart’s Die Zauberflöte has much charm, beauty and artistry.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's opera The Marriage of Figaro has a libretto by Lorenzo daPonte based on the French play La folle journée, ou le Mariage de Figaro (The Crazy Day or the Marriage of Figaro) by Pierre Caron de Beaumarchais (1732-1799).
For its world class Easter Festival, Baden-Baden mounted a Die Zauberflöte that owed more to the grey penitential doldrums of Lent than to the unbridled jubilance of re-birth.
Once Berkeley Opera, renamed West Edge Opera, this enterprising company offers the Bay Area’s only serious alternative to corporate opera, to wit Bonjour M. Gauguin.
In the first of pianist Julius Drake’s three-part series, ‘Perspectives’, our gaze was directed at Gustav Mahler’s eclectic musical responses to human experiences: from the trauma and distress of anguished love to the sweet contentment of true friendship, from the agonised introspection of the artist to the diverse dramas of human interaction.
The Los Angeles opera company marketed its spring production of Rossini's La Cenerentola as Cinderella though there is no opera by that name. The libretto of La Cenerentola is not the Cinderella story we know.
The Paris Opéra has not staged a full Ring Cycle since 1957, but its current season will conclude with a correction of this grand operatic gap.
Washington National’s 2012-2013 season continues this spring with a production of Giacomo Puccini’s first successful opera.
![Thomas Allen as Don Alfonso [Photo © ROH 2012 / Johan Persson]](http://www.operatoday.com/COSI-FAN-TUTTE-2012JP_00907.gif)
Repeatedly revived since its final appearance in 1995, Jonathan Miller’s Così fan tutte returned yet again to the Covent Garden stage as the second part of the ‘Olympic’ cycle of Mozart-Da Ponte collaborations.
Reviewing the February 2010 production, I remarked that Miller balances comic artificiality with more serious purpose; and, indeed, in a short programme note the director observes that “the awkward improbabilities of the plot [long the cause of the opera’s neglect and denigration] can be seen as a device that helps to make the opera more, rather than less, serious”.
Despite this, there was much less gravity and momentousness on stage this time around, with the visual gags out-weighing the underlying moral solemnity. This was largely due to the self-indulgent, and thoroughly enjoyable, hamming of the two male leads — as alternately all-conquering UN blue berets and bandana-ed heavy metal aficionados; and to the comic artistry of Thomas Allen’s Don Alfonso, a suave and knowing master-of-ceremonies. Allen created this role in 1995, and having returned many times since he stepped effortlessly into the Machiavellian schemer’s Armani suit and shoes.
The quartet of lovers was accomplished if not stellar, with the men shining brightest. Returning to role of Ferrando, Charles Castronovo was in confident and engaging form; his tenor may lack tonal variety, but it is a flexible, pleasing voice, just right for the overly sentimental Ferrando. Lithe and limber of both voice and physique — he even punctuated a phrase or two with deftly executed press-ups! — Castronovo gave a consistent performance: his cavatina, ‘Tradito, schernito dal perfido cor’, was particularly affecting, the tender piano expertly controlled; and, in Act 2, ‘Ah, lo veggio’ attained even greater heights. His pairing with Nicolay Borchev’s Guglielmo was dramatically and musically effective; although Nicolay Borchev was perhaps overly robust and gruff at the opening, he soon settled down and his open sound aptly conveyed Guglielmo’s naivety and misplaced self-assurance.
The female pairing of Malin Byström, our indignant Fiordiligi, and Michèle Losier, a stroppy Dorabella, were less well matched vocally. Byström’s intonation was a little unsettled to begin, but once she got her vibrato under full control, she demonstrated more bite and focus. Her soprano has a limited palette and only one volume — fairly flinty and loud: this was apposite, however, for her melodramatic rendering of ‘Come scoglio’, which also showed off an impressively powerful lower register. Her phrasing might have benefited from greater melodic grace, but this was a striking representation of near-hysteria! Losier's voice is more opulent, and at first the girls’ sinuous interlocking thirds and sixths did not blend well. Dorabella was dramatically rather slight and superficial in Act 1 but Losier came into her own in Act 2; her duet with Guglielmo, ‘Il core vi dono’ was sweet and rich, and ‘È amore un ladroncello’ was full of character.
Thomas Allen as Don Alfonso, Michèle Losier as Dorabella, Malin Byström as Fiordiligi and Rosemary Joshua as Despina
More satisfying, and exciting, was Rosemary Joshua’s Despina: striding forth in scarlet stilettos, she was not to be messed with. She patiently dismissed the spoilt hysterics of her employers, dealt deftly with Don Alfonso’s wandering hands, and relished the opportunity to don the Doctor’s gown and lap up the limelight as the be-masked doctor clad in green operating theatre garb, the cross-dressing role releasing Despina’s own exuberant theatricality. Agile and energised, both of her arias were expertly performed.
Allen himself was impeccable, his attention to musical and dramatic detail remarkable, especially in the recitatives. Indeed, having — intentionally or otherwise — taken an over-ambitious gulp of canapé, momentarily delaying his vocal entry in the opening scene, he had the audience eating out of his hand.
As Anne Ozorio put it, reviewing the September 2010 revival: “Sir Thomas Allen’s presence guaranteed success. Like Don Alfonso, he’s a grandee, elevated above the common run. The lovers strut and fret their hour upon the stage, but Don Alfonso’s seen it all before.” Suave, untroubled by events, assured of the outcome of his machinations, Allen’s dramatic urbanity was complemented by a relaxed, confident musical rendition of a role he must know backwards, upside down and inside out. His voice may not have quite the commanding presence of yesteryear, but experience and consummate ease goes a long to compensate for the odd ‘short cut’. Allen’s combination of musical nuance and dramatic credibility — as in the trio with Fiordiligi and Dorabella, ‘Soave sia il vento’, where he cynically and convincingly shares in their sorrow — confirmed him to be a true master of the theatre.
Charles Castronovo as Ferrando, Thomas Allen as Don Alfonso and Nikolay Borchev as Guglielmo
This production has been a good investment for the ROH; recalled at least every six months, perhaps the slightly distressed décor (white walls, white front drape, a sofa or two, a billow of cushions and an antique mirror affording our fickle foursome a narcissistic opportunity or two) is suitably cost-effective for this ‘age of austerity’. Modern and minimalist, elegant and economical, it may be; but, the Starbucks and mobile ’phone gags are wearing a little thin, and we’ve seen CNN cameramen rushing in to record unfolding events a few too many times now for this motif to retain its impact, or afford spontaneity to proceedings.
What was funny the first, or second, time around can, when repeated ad infinitum, become irritating: the snap-happy sisters are wedded to their camera phones, while Despina improvises a marriage contract on a laptop, and mobile ’phone ring-tones mingle with arpeggiated continuo chords. Admittedly, there has been some updating: Fiordiligi swiftly scrolls through her smartphone to find the perfect mugshot of Guglielmo, swiping the screen in perfect time to Mozart’s score.
But, there is a danger that such a plethora of visual gags will distract from the drama and from the emotional profundity of the music itself. Moreover, the staging lacks depth and variety of perspective: following the immediacies and energy of the opening trio, presented before the wafting white drape, the stage space beyond seems foreshortened and limiting. After all the busy phone-zapping, hair-coiffuring and Prozac-popping of the recitatives, with each aria or ensemble the principals invariably move to a stationary position at the front of a stage or settle gracefully and motionless on a pile of pillows. There is a surprising lack of direction in the substantial musical numbers, especially given the attention bestowed on the visual paraphernalia; this is particularly noticeable in the second act, where the drama becomes less frenetic and the sentiments more sincere. The chorus barely gets a look in, too often half-visible or practically ‘off-stage’.
Master Mozartian Colin Davis was in the pit, but while his reading has much elegance, the tempi were too slow; this did allow the twisting, sensuous woodwind melodies and timbres to shine, but the orchestra was repeatedly left behind by the principals, and it took until the finale to Act 1 for proceedings to reach a fittingly spirited romp.
Yet it mattered not, the evening was all about Allen, whose 40th year on the ROH stage the performance explicitly celebrated. Bouquets and a gigantic confection on wheels accompanied his curtain call. Allen threw several floral tributes back into the audience, declaring “I love this place”. I would not have been surprised to hear the answering cry, ‘We love you too”.
Claire Seymour