Recently in Performances
O/MODƏRNT is Swedish for ‘un/modern’. It is also the name of the festival — curated by artistic director Hugo Ticciati and held
annually since 2011 at the Ulriksdal’s Palace Theatre, Confidencen — which aims to look back and celebrate the past ‘by
exploring the relationships between the work of old composers and the artistic and intellectual creations of modern culture’.
Matthias Goerne and Menahem Pressler at the Wigmore Hall, London, an intriguing recital on many levels. Goerne programmes are always imaginative, bringing out new perspectives, enhancing our appreciation of the depth and intelligence that makes Lieder such a rewarding experience. Menahem Pressler is extremely experienced as a soloist and chamber musician, but hasn't really ventured into song to the extent that other pianists, like Brendel, Eschenbach or Richter, for starters. He's not the first name that springs to mind as Lieder accompanist. Therein lay the pleasure !
It is twenty-three years since Rossini’s opera of cultural oppression, inspiring heroism and tender pathos was last seen on the Covent Garden stage, but this eagerly awaited new production of Guillaume Tell by Italian director Damiano Micheletto will be remembered more for the audience outrage and vociferous mid-performance booing that it provoked — the most persistent and strident that I have heard in this house — than for its dramatic, visual or musical impact.
With its outrageous staging demands, you sometimes wonder why opera companies want to produce Verdi’s Aida. But the piece is about far more than pharaohs, pyramids and camels.
Given the enduring resonance and impact of the magnificent visual aesthetic of Visconti’s 1971 film of Thomas Mann’s novella, opera directors might be forgiven for concluding that Britten’s Death in Venice does not warrant experimentation with period and design, and for playing safe with Edwardian elegance, sweeping Venetian vistas and stylised seascapes.
If La Rondine (The Swallow) is a less-admired work than rest of the mature Puccini canon, you wouldn’t have known it by the lavish production now lovingly staged by Opera Theatre of Saint Louis.
Few companies have championed new or neglected works quite as fervently and consistently as the industrious Opera Theatre of Saint Louis.
For Opera Theatre of Saint Louis, “everything old is new again.”
Why would an American opera company devote its resources to the premiere of an opera by an Italian composer? Furthermore a parochially Italian story?
Berlioz’ Les Troyens is in two massive parts — La prise de Troy and Troyens à Carthage.
On Saturday evening June 13, 2015, Los Angeles Opera presented Dog Days, a new opera with music by David T. Little and a text by Royce Vavrek. In the opera adopted from a story of the same name by Judy Budnitz, thirteen-year-old Lisa tells of her family’s mental and physical disintegration resulting from the ravages of a horrendous war.
Audiences at the Teatro alla Scala in Milan first saw Madama Butterfly on February 17, 1904. It was not the success it is these days, and Puccini revised it before its scheduled performances in Brescia.
Opera Philadelphia is a very well-managed opera company with a great vision. Every year it presents a number of well-known “warhorse” operas, usually in the venerable Academy of Music, and a few more adventurous productions, usually in a chamber opera format suited to the smaller Pearlman Theater.
Written in 1783, Giovanni Paisiello’s Il Barbiere di Siviglia reigned for three decades as one of Europe’s most popular operas, before being overshadowed forever by Rossini’s classic work.
The Princeton Festival has established a reputation for high-quality summer opera. In recent years works by Handel, Britten, Rachmaninoff, Stravinsky, Wagner and Gershwin have been performed at Matthews Theater on Princeton University campus: a 1100-seat auditorium with good sight-lines though a somewhat dry and uneven acoustic.
Die Entführung aus dem Serail was Mozart’s ﬁrst great public success in Vienna, and it became the composer’s most oft performed opera during his lifetime.
The Ensemble for the Romantic Century offered a thoughtful and well-curated evening in their production of The Sorrows of Young Werther, which is part theatrical performance and part art song concert.
This was an adventurous double bill of two ‘quasi-operas’ by Hans Werner Henze, performed by young singers who are studying on the postgraduate Opera Course at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama.
High brick walls, a cavernous space, entered via a narrow passage just off a London thoroughfare: Village Underground in Shoreditch is probably not that far removed from the venue in which Henry Purcell’s Dido and Aeneas was first performed — whether that was Josiah Priest’s girl’s school in Chelsea or the court of Charles II or James II.
Hats off to Garsington for championing once again some criminally neglected Strauss. I overheard someone there opine, ‘Of course, you can understand why it isn’t done very often.’
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.