Recently in Performances
Director Annabel Arden believes that Rossini’s Il barbiere di Siviglia is ‘all about playfulness, theatricality, light and movement’. It’s certainly ‘about’ those things and they are, as Arden suggests, ‘based in the music’.
George Enescu’s Oedipe was premiered in Paris 1936 but it has taken 80 years for the opera to reach the stage of Covent Garden. This production by Àlex Ollé (a member of the Catalan theatrical group, La Fura Dels Baus) and Valentina Carrasco, which arrives in London via La Monnaie where it was presented in 2011, was eagerly awaited and did not disappoint.
Lyric Opera of Chicago staged Charles Gounod’s Roméo et Juliette as the last opera in its current subscription season.
‘The plot is perhaps the least moral in all opera; wrong triumphs in the name of love and we are not expected to mind.’
Anthony Minghella’s production of Madame Butterfly for ENO is
wearing well. First seen in 2005, it is now being aired for the sixth time and is still, as I observed in 2013, ‘a breath-taking visual banquet’.
This concert version of La straniera felt like a compulsory musicology field trip, but it had enough vocal flashes to lobby for more frequent performances of this midway Bellini.
As poetry is the harmony of words, so music is that of notes; and as poetry is a rise above prose and oratory, so is music the exaltation of poetry.
From experiments with musique concrète in the 1940s, to the
Minimalists’ explorations into tape-loop effects in the 1960s, via the
appearance of hip-hop in the 1970s and its subsequent influence on electronic
dance music in the 1980s, to digital production methods today,
‘sampling’ techniques have been employed by musicians working in
genres as diverse as jazz fusion, psychedelic rock and classical music.
On May 7, 2016, San Diego Opera presented the West Coast premiere of Great Scott, an opera by Terrence McNally and Jake Heggie. McNally’s original libretto pokes fun at everything from football to bel canto period opera. It includes snippets of nineteenth century tunes as well as Heggie's own bel canto writing.
A foiled abduction, a castle-threatening inferno, romantic infatuation, guilt-laden near-suicide, gun-shots and knife-blows: Andrea Leone Tottola’s libretto for Vincenzo Bellini’s first opera, Adelson e Salvini, certainly does not lack dramatic incident.
Opera as an art form has never shied away from the grittier shadows of life. Nor has Manitoba Opera, with its recent past productions dealing with torture, incest, murder and desperate political prisoners still so tragically relevant today.
Published in 1855 as an entertainment for his two daughters, William Makepeace Thackeray’s The Rose and the Ring is a burlesque fairy-tale whose plot — to the author’s wilful delight, perhaps — defies summation and elucidation.
What more fitting memorial for composer Peter Maxwell Davies (d. 03/14/2016) than a splendid performance of The Lighthouse, the third of his eight works for the stage.
I suspect that many of those at the Wigmore Hall for The King’s
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further enticed by the notion of a lover’s serenade at which the generic
term ‘serenata’ seems to hint.
Having enjoyed superb singing by a young cast of soloists in Classical
Opera’s UK premiere of Jommelli’s Il Vogoleso the
previous evening, I was delighted that the 2016 Kathleen Ferrier Awards Final
at the Wigmore Hall confirmed the strength and depth of talent possessed by the
young singers studying in and emerging from our academies and conservatoires.
On February 7, 1786, Emperor Joseph II of Austria had brand new one-act operas by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and Antonio Salieri performed in the Schönbrunn Palace’s Orangery.
Those poor opera lovers in Cologne have a never ending problem with the city’s opera house. Together with the rest of city, the construction of the new opera house is mired in political incompetence.
London remains starved of Wagner. This season, its major companies offer but two works, Tannhäuser from the Royal Opera and Tristan from ENO.
Dmitry Bertman’s hilarious staging of Rimsky-Korsakov’s political sex-comedy The Golden Cockerel in Düsseldorf.
On April 16, 2016, San Diego Opera presented Giacomo Puccini’s sixth opera, Madama Butterfly, in an intriguing production by Garnett Bruce. Roberto Oswald’s scenery included the usual Japanese styled house with many sliding doors and walls. On either side, however, were blooming cherry trees with rough trunks and gnarled branches that looked as though they had been growing on the property for a hundred years.
26 Apr 2012
Manon Lescaut, Philadelphia
It is Manon month in the Mid-Atlantic states. In New York, the Met is presenting Massanet’s take, while Opera Company of Philadelphia has just opened Puccini’s version: his first successful opera, Manon Lescaut.
The latter is a tribute to the company management, which programmed a work not
heard in Philadelphia for decades in lieu of yet another Bohème,
Tosca or Butterfly, and then overcame adversity to craft an
Opera Philadelphia often benefits from the remarkable number of fine singers
trained in local conservatories—but rarely as much as in this production.
When the scheduled soprano (Ermonela Jaho) cancelled less than a month ago,
Texas-born Michelle Johnston, a 29-year old in her final year at AVA, stepped
in, learned the role from scratch, and sang it with distinction. A grand
finalist in last year’s Met national auditions, Johnston is a well-schooled
singer with the most of the resources to tackle the singular challenge of
Manon, whose evolution from youthful innocence through giddy greed to death in
disgrace is mirrored by a vocal transformation from lyric to
coloratura to spinto soprano. She was most impressive in
slimming down her voice for the Act II minuet scene, complete with a (quasi-)
trill. Given her youth and the rushed conditions of her premiere, it is perhaps
inevitable that, earlier and later, Johnston sometimes seemed a bit cautious.
Later in the run, she will perhaps cut loose more at the big emotional moments,
such as the aria, “Sola, Perduta, Abbandonata.” Overall, however, this was
a smart and sensitive performance by a young singer to watch.
Thiago Arancam is a 32-year old Brazilian lirico spinto tenor who
started singing late and has been trained largely in Milan. He is a sexy guy on
stage, with a voice both pleasant and intriguing, mostly due to its unusually
dark color—a quality often thought to signal grand heroic potential. For the
moment, he sings smoothly and in tune, if uniformly at forte. Yet the
sound in the middle and lower parts of the voice lacks the mixture of warm
timbre and clear ring Italian tenors prize, and sometimes fades out
suddenly—a quality that suggests the tone is being forced. Even at best, the
result, some robust high notes aside, his agreeable approach skims over
subtleties in the character of the Chevalier des Grieux: his flirtatious
serenade, sweet reflection on falling in love, and the gut-wrenching "No! No!,
Pazzo son" all sounded vaguely similar. Perhaps Arancam—scheduled to sing
this role in Dresden under Christian Thielemann in a year—will yet realize
Thiago Arancam as Des Grieux and Michelle Johnson as Manon Lescaut
Two character baritones supported the cast well. Daniel Mobbs continued his
strong work for Philadelphia, seeming to inhabit to the character of Manon’s
rich seducer and patron Geronte de Ravoir. Troy Cook was strong if a bit uneven
as her brother. Cody Austin sang brightly as the student Edmondo, John Viscardi
pranced menacingly as the Dancing Master, and John David Miles’s robust tones
came out of nowhere as the Sergeant.
The production was vintage Philadelphia: realistic, colorful, and
cost-effective without probing even the (relatively shallow) depths of
Manon Lescaut’s libretto-by-committee. Still, it offered one
interesting idea, namely a (mechanically-challenged) drop with projected
paraphrases from of the literary text from which the story originates.
Music director Corrado Rovaris was largely in his element in this
fast-moving score, with the orchestra responding brilliantly—better than I
have ever hesrd them—in moments such as the police raid at the end of Act II.
To be sure, one might have liked to hear Rovaris encourage the young cast to
linger at other critical moments, but rubato is not his thing.
Scene from Manon Lescaut
Given the success of this production, perhaps Philadelphia will now dare to
extend its successful string of operas by 20th-century master Hans Werner Henze
to include his unjustly neglected adaptation of the Manon tale, Boulevard