25 Apr 2012
La Fille du Regiment, Royal Opera
The regiment marches onwards!
Donna abbandonata would have been a good title for the first concert of Temple Music’s 2017 Song Series. Indeed, mezzo-soprano Christine Rice seems to be making a habit of playing abandoned women.
The Wigmore Hall complete Schubert song series continued with a recital by Georg Nigl and Andreas Staier. Staier's a pioneer, promoting the use of fortepiano in Schubert song. In Schubert's time, modern concert pianos didn't exist. Schubert and his contemporaries would have been familiar with a lighter, brighter sound. Over the last 30 years, we've come to better understand Schubert and his world through the insights Staier has given us. His many performances, frequently with Christoph Prégardien at the Wigmore Hall, have always been highlights.
Classical Opera’s MOZART 250 project has reached the year 1767. Two years ago, the company embarked upon an epic, 27-year exploration of the music written by Mozart and his contemporaries exactly 250 years previously. The series will incorporate 250th anniversary performances of all Mozart’s important compositions and artistic director Ian Page tells us that as 1767 ‘was the year in which Mozart started to write more substantial works - opera, oratorio, concertos this will be the first year of MOZART 250 in which Mozart’s own music dominates the programme’.
‘[T]hey moderated or increased their voices, loud or soft, heavy or light according to the demands of the piece they were singing; now slowing, breaking of sometimes with a gentle sigh, now singing long passages legato or detached, now groups, now leaps, now with long trills, now with short, or again, with sweet running passages sung softly, to which one sometimes heard an echo answer unexpectedly. They accompanied the music and the sentiment with appropriate facial expressions, glances and gestures, with no awkward movements of the mouth or hands or body which might not express the feelings of the song. They made the words clear in such a way that one could hear even the last syllable of every word, which was never interrupted or suppressed by passages or other embellishments.’
An exceptional Wagner Der fliegende Holländer, so challenging that, at first, it seems shocking. But Kasper Holten's new production, currently at the Finnish National Opera, is also exceptionally intelligent.
A welcome addition to Lyric Opera of Chicago’s roster was its recent production of Jules Massenet’s Don Quichotte.
800 years ago, every book was a precious treasure - ‘written on skin’. In George Benjamin’s and Martin Crimp’s 2012 opera, Written on Skin, modern-day archivists search for one such artefact: a legendary 12th-century illustrated vanity project, commissioned by an unnamed Protector to record and celebrate his power.
It was like a “Date Night” at Staatsoper unter den Linden with its return of Eike Gramss’ 2012 production of Puccini’s Madama Butterfly. While I entered the Schiller Theater, the many young couples venturing to the opera together, and emerging afterwards all lovey-dovey and moved by Puccini’s melodramatic romance, encouraged me to think more positively about the future of opera.
For the Late Night concert after the Saturday series, fifteen Berliners backed up Barbara Hannigan in yet another adventurous collaboration on a modern rarity with Simon Rattle. I was completely unfamiliar with the French composer, but the performance tonight made me fall in love with Gérard Grisey’s sensually disintegrating soundscape Quatre chants pour franchir le seuil, or “Fours Songs to cross the Threshold”.
One of the things I love about the Philharmonie in Berlin, is the normalcy of musical excellence week after week. Very few venues can pull off with such illuminating star wattage. Michael Schade, Anne Schwanewilms, and Barbara Hannigan performed in two concerts with two larger-than-life conductors Thielemann and Rattle. We were taken on three thrilling adventures.
Lyric Opera of Chicago’s original and superbly cast production of Hector Berlioz’s Les Troyens has provided the musical public with a treasured opportunity to appreciate one of the great operatic achievements of the nineteenth century.
The Little Opera Company opened its 21st season by championing its own, as it presented the world premiere of Winnipeg composer Neil Weisensel’s Merry Christmas, Stephen Leacock.
Now in its 31st year, the 2016 Christmas Festival at St John’s Smith Square has offered sixteen concerts performed by diverse ensembles, among them: the choirs of King’s College, London and Merton College, Oxford; Christchurch Cathedral Choir, Oxford; The Gesualdo Six; The Cardinall’s Musick; The Tallis Scholars; the choirs of Trinity College and Clare College, Cambridge; Tenebrae; Polyphony and the Orchestra of the Age of the Enlightment.
As 2016 draws to a close, we stand on the cusp of a post-Europe, pre-Trump world. Perhaps we will look back on current times with the nostalgic romanticism of Richard Strauss’s 1911 paean to past glories, comforts and certainties: Der Rosenkavalier.
Ah, Loft Opera. It’s part of the experience to wander down many dark streets, confused and lost, in a part of Brooklyn you’ve never been. It is that exclusive—you can’t even find the performance!
Let’s start by getting a couple of gripes out of the way. First, the final act of Die Walküre does not constitute a full-length concert, even with a distinguished cast and orchestra, and with animated drawings fluttering on a giant screen.
When you combine two charismatic New York stage divas with the artistry of Los Angeles Opera, you have a mix that explodes into singing, dancing and an evening of superb entertainment.
Roderick Williams’ and Julius Drake’s English Winter Journey seems such a perfect concept that one wonders why no one had previously thought of compiling a sequence of 24 songs by English composers to mirror, complement and discourse with Schubert’s song-cycle of love and loss.
A historical afternoon at the NTR Saturday Matinee occurred with an epic concert version of Prokofiev’s Soviet Opera Semyon Kotko.
Opening night at the Metropolitan is a gleeful occasion even when the composer is long gone, but December 1st was an opening for a living composer who has been making waves around the world and is, gasp, a woman — the second woman composer ever to have an opera presented at the Met.
The regiment marches onwards!
Having conquered operatic stages in Europe and the US during the past five years, Laurent Pelly’s Tyrolean troopers/troupers have tramped back to London, with a sway and a swagger; the company’s stalwarts demonstrate their stamina while some of the leaders take a breather and make way for new recruits.
In particular, Natalie Dessay has resigned from the brigade. In 2010, on the occasion of the first ROH revival, I remarked that the role “is fast becoming a signature role — and indeed it is hard to imagine this production without Dessay”. However, Patrizia Ciofi more than proved me wrong: lacking Dessay’s manic agitation — a gamine hyperactivity that was often achieved at the expense of vocal finesse — Ciofi’s Marie is an altogether more rounded, and composed, character: an energetic, at times unreasonable adolescent, yes, but also a burgeoning young woman with hopes and dreams with which we can identify. Ciofi’s diction at times lacks lucidity; and her wide vibrato — especially at the top where it frequently forces the pitch upwards — is unfortunate in more sustained, ensemble passages.
Ann Widdecombe as La Duchesse De Crackentorp and Donald Maxwell as Hortensius
But, Ciofi has the high tessitura and breathtaking coloratura easily under her belt — or should I say braces — and has a rich, creamy tone. Hers is a Marie who makes us laugh and cry. Whether wobbling determinedly across the stage, buried beneath laundry mountains, or leaping aloft a potato bucket to entertain the troops, or being violently hoisted upside down or horizontal as she is ‘abducted’ by her newly found aunt, Ciofi retained her equanimity. Overall, she may lack some of Dessay’s hard-hitting punch but hers is a more genuine bel canto idiom.
Colin Lee has taken progressive but unceasing strides to the front lines: as Juan Diego’s understudy in 2007, he shared the role in 2010 and now stepped into the full glare of the spotlight. Certainly Lee has the vocal gifts and musical temperament to dispatch the infamous high Cs in ‘A mes amis’ — the last relished and sustained to substantial applause. And, in the yodelling leaps he revealed a heroic timbre to counter his previous hapless, bumpkin-esque persona, revealing the sincerity of Tonio’s affections. Although Lee may not possess the physical and vocal appeal of his predecessor in this production, he does have a confident, controlled elegance: his superbly shaped, long, legato lines pay detailed, intelligent attention to phrasing, and the effect is complemented by a focused vibrato, which was put to superb effect in his tender declaration of love, the Act 2 aria, ‘Pour me rapprocher de Marie’.
Returning as the Marquise de Birkenfield, Ann Murray relished the comic potential of her partnership with Donald Maxwell’s emasculated Hortensius. Her Act 1 account of the loss of her sister’s child is in danger of taking on an air of Miss Prism-esque farce — one half expects Lady Bracknell to pop up pompously pronouncing about perambulators and handbags. Indeed, one of the disadvantages of repetition is that wry comedy can become brutish slapstick: more Loony Tunes than Napoleonic rom-com. That said, as in 2010 Murray’s ‘singing lesson’ with Marie and Sulpice produced some of the finest musical and theatrical moments in the performance. And, Alan Opie’s Sulcipe was the warm embodiment of paternal indulgence — even when his feisty ‘daughter’ disowns him and declares her intent to find a regiment of ‘nicer daddies’.
Patrizia Ciofi as Marie and Alan Opie as Sulpice Pingot
Stepping into Dawn French’s shoes as the Duchesse de Crackentorp, Ann Widdicome shares little with her predecessor except her girth — or rather, French’s former girth, given that the latter has recently revealed a new svelte figure. Hot from her Strictly and panto successes, Widdicome is clearly riding a popularist wave — rather surprising for one who made her name as a bastion of Tory/Victorian principled intolerance. However, politics aside, those who witnessed Widdicome’s Strictly ‘triumph’ will be aware that rhythm is not one of her fortes; she possesses none of French’s insouciant comic timing or improvisatory invention. Indeed, it even seemed quite a challenge for her to remember her lines. That said, self-referential surtitles — a bellowing ‘Order, Order!’, and many Strictly references — raised hilarity among the audience, so presumably the ROH management consider this casting well done. I probably deserve censure for failing to appreciate Widdicome’s willingness to laugh at herself and her ability to add to the frivolous fun.
Most pleasingly, the chorus are truly regimented, kept on a tight rein vocally and visually, relishing the mixture of musical self-discipline and the threat of dramatic — and military — mishap.
There is a lot of dialogue to get through, and thus the staging and visual appeal plays an important role in sustaining the audience’s attention: Chantal Thomas’s cartographical collage is both witty and engaging, while the distorted perspective of the Marquise’s château in Act 2 emphasises the bizarre nature of the dramatic development. Balletic dusting routines and a coup de théâtre tank for Tonio’s rescue mission help to overcome any potential dramatic longeurs.
Conductor Yves Abel leads the regimental company on a careful but precise campaign. There was much lovely playing from the ROH orchestra: in the introduction the horns were wonderfully warm and touching, complemented by well-shaped, emotive woodwind and string sectional playing. But, Abel’s tempi were, on the whole, rather slow and conservative — not quite right for the wild abandon on stage; and, he seemed to feel the need to signpost every comic moment with a knowing gesture.
Many chuckles derived from Agathe Mélinand’s surtitles. Indeed, the current Eurozone tensions gave an added frisson to the notion of an Italian soprano cast as a French girl, mangling an Italian aria, written by an Italian for a nineteenth-century French audience, performed in franglais-laden production, directed by a Frenchman, and translated for an English audience.
Ann Murray as La Marquise De Berkenfeld and Patrizia Ciofi as Marie
In this context, the contemporary reception of Donizetti’s work is interesting: only two major composers of the age, Mendelssohn and Verdi, genuinely admired him, the former professing, in response to criticism of La fille, “I am afraid I like it. I think it very pretty — it is so merry! Do you know, I should like to have written it myself”. But others, notably Bellini and Berlioz, were less charitable, perhaps in awe and afraid of Donizetti’s prodigious output and adaptability. Indeed, Berlioz accused Donizetti “of treating us like a conquered country; one can no longer speak of the opera houses of Paris, but only of those of M. Donizetti”.
Pelly’s winning production has similarly conquered foreign stages, and there are undoubtedly many deserved victories ahead.