Recently in Performances
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.
For an opera that has never quite made it over the threshold into the ‘canonical’, the adolescent Mozart’s La finta giardiniera has not done badly of late for productions in the UK. In 2014, Glyndebourne presented Frederic Wake-Walker’s take on the eighteen-year-old’s dramma giocoso. Wake-Walker turned the romantic shenanigans and skirmishes into a debate on the nature of reality, in which the director tore off layers of theatrical artifice in order to answer Auden’s rhetorical question, ‘O tell me the truth about love’.
As the German language describes so beautifully, a “Schrei aus
tiefstem Herzen” was felt as Evelyn Herlitzius channelled an Elektra
from the depths of her soul.
Heading to N.Y.C and D.C. for its annual performances, the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra invited Semyon Bychkov to return for his Mahler debut with the Fifth Symphony. Having recently returned from Vienna with praise for their rendition, the orchestra now presented it at their homebase.
Igor Stravinsky's lost Funeral Song, (Chante funèbre) op 5 conducted by Valery Gergiev at the Mariinsky in St Petersburg This extraordinary performance was infinitely more than an ordinary concert, even for a world premiere of an unknown work.
On Tuesday evening this week, I found myself at The Actors Centre in London’s Covent Garden watching a performance of Unknowing, a dramatization of Schumann’s Frauenliebe und Leben and Dichterliebe (in a translation by David Parry, in which Matthew Monaghan directed a baritone and a soprano as they enacted a narrative of love, life and loss. Two days later at the Wigmore Hall I enjoyed a wonderful performance, reviewed here, by countertenor Philippe Jaroussky with Julien Chauvin’s Le Concert de la Loge, of cantatas by Telemann and J.S. Bach.
Here is one of the next new great conductors. That’s a bold statement,
but even the L.A. Times agrees: Mirga Gražinytė-Tyla’s appointment
“is the biggest news in the conducting world.” But Ms. Mirga
Gražinytė-Tyla will be getting a lot of weight on her shoulders.
Manitoba Opera chose to open its 44th season by going for the belly laughs — literally — as it notably presented its inaugural production of Verdi’s Falstaff.
Macabre and moonstruck, Schubert as Goth, with Stuart Jackson, Marcus Farnsworth and James Baillieu at the Wigmore Hall. An exceptionally well-planned programme devised with erudition and wit, executed to equally high standards.
On November 20, 2016, Arizona Opera completed its run of Antonín Dvořák’s fairy Tale opera, Rusalka. Loosely based on Hand Christian Andersen’s The Little Mermaid, Joshua Borths staged it with common objects such as dining room chairs that could be found in the home of a child watching the story unfold.
Consistently overshadowed by the neighboring Bayreuth, the far less stuffy Oper Leipzig (Wagner’s birthplace) programmed after forty years their first complete Ring Cycle.
You didn’t have to know the Bugs Bunny oeuvre to appreciate Opera San Jose’s enchanting Il barbiere di Sivigila, but it sure enhanced your experience if you did.
If there was ever any doubt that Puccini’s Manon is on a road to nowhere, then the closing image of Jonathan Kent’s 2014 production of Manon Lescaut (revived here for the first time, by Paul Higgins) leaves no uncertainty.
Many opera singers are careful to maintain an air of political neutrality. Not so mezzo-soprano Joyce DiDonato, who is outspoken about causes she holds dear. Her latest project, a very personal response to the 2015 terror attacks in Paris, puts her audience through the emotional wringer, but also showers them with musical rewards.
I wonder if Karl Amadeus Hartmann saw something of himself in the young Simplicius Simplicissimus, the eponymous protagonist of his three-scene chamber opera of 1936. Simplicius is in a sort of ‘Holy Fool’ who manages to survive the violence and civil strife of the Thirty Years War (1618-48), largely through dumb chance, and whose truthful pronouncements fall upon the ears of the deluded and oppressive.
For its second opera of the 2016-17 season Lyric Opera of Chicago has staged Gaetano Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor in a production seen at the Maggio Musicale Fiorentino and the Grand Théâtre de Genève.
Akhnaten is the third in composer Philip Glass’s trilogy of operas about people who have made important contributions to society: Albert Einstein in science, Mahatma Gandhi in politics, and Akhnaten in religion. Glass’s three operas are: Einstein on the Beach, Satyagraha, and Akhnaten.
Shakespeare re-imagined for the very Late Baroque, with Bampton Classical Opera at St John's Smith Square. "Shakespeare, Shakespeare, Shakespeare....the God of Our Idolatory". So wrote David Garrick in his Ode to Shakespeare (1759) through which the actor and showman marketed Shakespeare to new audiences, fanning the flames of "Bardolatory". All Europe was soon caught up in the frenzy.
21 Nov 2012
Joan of Arc as Atheist Heroine
Jeanne D’Arc—Szenen aus dem Leben der Heiligen Johanna, the last stage work of the German composer Walter Braunfels, documents a passage in music history that has only recently begun to break through the surface.
Although the composer enjoyed widespread popularity in the mid-1920s with his
opera Die Vögel and religious works such as his Te Deum
which curried favour with the devout statesman Konrad Adenauer, Braunfels’
antagonism toward the Nazis and half-Jewish heritage led to a ban on his music
starting in 1933. It was not until 2001 that Jeanne D’Arc, written
at the height of the war between 1938-43, was unveiled to the public with a
concert performance in Stockholm starring Juliane Banse and conducted by
Manfred Honneck. Seven years later, the Deutsche Oper engaged the late
directing provocateur Christoph Schlingensief to conceive what would be the
opera’s staged premiere.
Often interpreted as a reaction to the brutality of the Holocaust,
Jeanne D’Arc expresses a desperate belief in the powers of the
divine to redeem the spiritually pure from the persecution of a society blinded
by false values. The French martyr and Catholic saint Joan of Arc had of course
already conjured operas by Giuseppe Verdi and Arthur Honegger, yet it was a
performance of Hindemith’s subversive Mathis der Maler that moved
Braunfels to pen his own libretto and carry forth with a religiously laden
opera. Choruses lifted from Passion oratorios intermingle with blocks of
extended tonality that evoke Wagner and Strauss without creating a hypnotic
sense of inebriation. The most interesting passages emerge in the unpredictable
harmonic development and sardonic trumpet fanfares at the start of the second
act that give full expression to Braunfels’ unassuaged frustration.
It is a shame that Schlingensief’s production, revived for three
performances this season and seen November 16, adopts an atheist critique of
western Christianity that is subsequently drowned in silly, morbid gags and
distracting video projections (executed with Anna-Sophie Mahler and Søren
Schuhmacher). Footage ranging from shots of a Nepalese village, where a
wreathed corpse is burned in a religious process, to the juxtaposition of
church boys with references to Mafia activity only misconstrues Braunfels’
simple allegory. Images of Schlingensief himself among the Nepalese and the
oversized anatomical set of lungs that descend downstage may make this staging
a fascinating historical document (the director died of lung cancer in 2010),
but he imposes more on this opera than he illuminates. Ultimately, it is hard
to justify the expense that went into the rotating stage’s convolution of
scenes (designs by Thomas George and Thekla von Müllheim).
A live cow emerges as an ostensible symbol for Johanna when the wife of the
Knight Baudricourt insists that she should be set free to bring an end to
pestilence in the village, accompanied by a nonsensical sign reading “Tote
Kuh fällt vom Schnurrbart” (the dead cow falls from its whiskers). Gaggles
of midgets in nun suits and projections of animal insides are enough to make
one cringe, but the distaste reaches its peak in an extra with cerebral palsy
who, dressed in a crown and gymnast’s suit (costumes by Aino Laberenz),
writhes in spasms with the music until he is smothered in fake blood and chokes
with suicidal gags for what felt like much too long. Although the character’s
symbolic presence as an extension of the King’s suffering eventually makes
itself clear, the exploitation of a disabled individual to this artistic end is
questionable at best. Schlingensief surely intended to make a statement in
favour of tolerance for all human beings, but his warped concept of social
activism only undermines the historical value of Braunfels’ opera. The
director also replaces some of the Inquisitor’s seminal lines with the spoken
words of a midget, such as the final “We have burned a holy being!” The
effect is perverse and detracts from the weight of the story. Just as
ridiculous is the moment when Joan of Arc emerges as a black-faced death angel
from an oversized birthday cake, only to light flickering candles as a symbol
of her burning at the stake.
Despite the tremendous stamina and purity of tone American soprano Mary
Mills brought to the title character, she was hampered by the stilted stage
concept. Rarely has there been a better example of Regietheater’s
power to undermine the presence of impeccable, if not so thespian-oriented,
musicianship. The rich-voiced English baritone Simon Neal gave a standout
performance as Joan’s ally, Gilles de Rais, and Kim-Lilian Strebel and Annie
Rosen made for a prettily sung, homogeneous pair as her female patron saints
Katharina and Margarete. In the role of St. Michael, the tenor Paul McNamara
gave an earnest delivery but suffered from a somewhat swallowed timbre; the
orchestra of the Deutsche Oper under Matthias Foremny also could have helped
matters by producing more restrained pianissimi.
Clemens Bieber made for an affecting King, even if one had to avert one’s
eyes from the cartoonish portrayal Schlingensief set out to achieve. Tobias
Kehrer gave a warm portrayal of Johanna’s father, Jacob, entering the stage
in bishop garb on a reindeer sled, and the nasal timbre of Paul Kaufmann made
for an appropriately pathetic portrait of the shepherd Colin. Jörg Schörner
gave a fine performance in the role of the sympathizing Duke of Alençon, while
Lenus Carlson made for an imposing Duke de la Trémouille. Yosep Kang also
stood out as Bertrand de Poulengy. The orchestra of the Deutsche Oper was stronger in soaring lyric lines than complex polyphony, with the brass especially smudged. The
house chorus also did not sound as rehearsed as usual despite its reliably
strong performance. Several seats were empty after intermission, a rare
occurrence in Berlin. Perhaps it would have made more sense to focus on this
musical specimen in concert performance, which is exactly what the Salzburg
Festival has planned for 2013.