Recently in Performances
One of the initiatives for the community at the Lucerne Festival is the
‘40 min’ series. A free concert given before the evening’s main event that ranges from chamber
music to orchestral rehearsals.
The mysteries and myths surrounding Mozart’s Requiem Mass - left unfinished at his death and completed by his pupil, Franz Xaver Süssmayr - abide, reinvigorated and prolonged by Peter Shaffer’s play Amadeus as directed on film by Miloš Forman. The origins of the work’s commission and composition remain unknown but in our collective cultural and musical consciousness the Requiem has come to assume an autobiographical role: as if Mozart was composing a mass for his own presaged death.
I saw two operas consecutively at Oper Koln. First, the utterly
bewildering Lucia di Lammermoor; then Thilo Reinhardt’s
thrilling Tosca. His staging was pure operatic joy with some
Bernard Haitink’s monumental Bruckner and Mahler performances with
the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra (RCO) got me hooked on classical music.
His legendary performance of Bruckner’s Symphony No. 8 in
C-minor, where in the Finale loosened plaster fell from the
Concertgebouw ceiling, is still recounted in Amsterdam.
Karita Mattila was born to sing Emilia Marty, the diva around whom revolves Leoš Janáček's The Makropulos Affair (Věc Makropulos). At Prom 45, she shone all the more because she was conducted by Jirí Belohlávek and performed alongside a superb cast from the National Theatre, Prague, probably the finest and most idiomatic exponents of this repertoire.
‘Two outrageous operas in one crazy evening,’ reads the bill. Hyperbole? Certainly not when the operas are two of Jacques Offenbach’s more off-the-wall bouffoneries and when the company is Opera della Luna whose artistic director, Jeff Clarke, is blessed with the comic imagination and theatrical nous to turn even the most vacuous trivia into a sharp and sassy riotous romp.
This performance of Britten's A Midsummer Night's Dream at Glyndebourne was so good that it was the highlight of the whole season, making the term ‘revival’ utterly irrelevant. Jakub Hrůša is always stimulating, but on this occasion, his conducting was so inspired that I found myself closing my eyes in order to concentrate on what he revealed in Britten's quirky but brilliant score. Eyes closed in this famous production by Peter Hall, first seen in 1981?
A staged piano recital and an opera as a concert. Pianist András Schiff accompanied the Salzburg Marionette Theater at the Mozarteum Grosser Saal and Anna Netrebko sang Manon Lescaut at the Grosses Festspielhaus.
On August 4, 2016, soprano Leah Crocetto and accompanist Tamara Sanikidze gave a recital at the Scottish Rite Center in Santa Fe New Mexico. A winner of the Metropolitan Opera Auditions and the BBC Cardiff Singer of the World Contest, this year Crocetto was singing Donna Anna in Santa Fe Opera’s excellent Don Giovanni.
On July 31, 2016, against the ethereal beauty of the main hall in the Scottish Rite Center, soprano Angela Meade and pianist Joe Illick gave a recital offering both opera and art songs ranging in origin from early nineteenth century Europe to mid twentieth century America. Many in the audience probably remembered Meade’s recent excellent portrayal of Norma at Los Angeles Opera.
When more is definitely more, and less would indeed be less. Two of the biggest names in Italian theater art collide in an eponymous theater.
It was the fifth Proms Chamber Music concert at Cadogan Hall this season, and we were celebrating Shakespeare’s 400th. And, given the extent and range of the composers and artists, and the diversity and profundity of the musical achievement inspired by the Bard, we could probably keep celebrating in this fashion ad infinitum.
Each August the bleak and leaky, 12,000 seat Arena Adriatica (home of the famed Pesaro basketball team) magically transforms itself into an improvised opera house that boasts the ultimate in opera chic — exemplary Rossini production standards for its now twelve hundred seats.
This highly enjoyable Prom, part of 2016’s ‘Proms at
’ mini-series, took as its guiding concept the reopening of London’s theatres following the Restoration, focusing in particular upon musical and dramatic responses to Shakespeare. Purcell, rightly, loomed large, with John Blow and Matthew Locke joining him. Receiving their Proms premieres were the excerpts from Timon of Athens and those from Locke’s The Tempest.
With all the bombast of the presidential campaigns rattling in our heads, with invectives being exchanged and measured discussion all but absent, how utterly lovely to retreat and relax into the harmonious soundscape and well-reasoned debate posed in Strauss’ Capriccio, on magnificent display at Santa Fe Opera.
When we entered the Crosby Theatre for Gounod’s Roméo et Juliette the stage was surprisingly dominated by a somber, semi-circular black mausoleum, many chambers inscribed with scrambled names of US Civil War era dead.
Molten passions were seething just below the icy Nordic exterior of Santa Fe
Opera’s wholly masterful production of Barber’s Vanessa.
Farce is probably the most difficult of dramatic comedy sub-genres to put across. A farce got up in the stately robes of opera sets its presenters an even higher bar. Presenting an operatic farce on a notoriously chilly and cavernous auditorium is to risk catastrophe.
Fan interest began raging when Santa Fe Opera engaged venerable artist Patricia Racette to make her role debut as Minnie in Puccini’s La Fanciulla del West.
A funny thing happened on the way to Andalusia.
18 Jun 2013
The Importance of Being Earnest, Covent Garden
The Importance of Being Earnest , Gerald Barry’s fifth opera, was commissioned by the Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra and the Barbican, and was first performed in concert, Thomas Adès conducting the London premiere.
This production marks the first London staging, though the honour of the first
staging went to Nancy’s Opéra national de Lorraine. It may be considered a
resounding success, perhaps all the more surprising given the paucity of
worthwhile comic operas. (The inability of stage directors to distinguish
between the comic and comedy as a form is one of the greatest banes of an
opera-goer’s life, but let us leave that on one side for the moment.)
Barry may have studied with Stockhausen but it is his study with Mauricio
Kagel that comes to mind here, in the work’s anarchic — though, in its
compositional control decidedly not anarchistic — irreverence. An almost
Dadaistic sensibility perhaps also brings to mind the Ligeti of Aventures
and Nouvelles aventures; smashing of plates, forty of them, must
surely offer a reference, perhaps even an hommage. Humour arises not
just from Wilde’s play and what Barry does with or to it, but also from the
interaction of ‘action’ and music, seemingly autonomous, until one has
decided that it is definitely is, at which point it tempts one to think that it
might have something in common with the text after all. Parody, for instance of
Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, whether its opening or the ‘Ode to Joy’, and
of Auld Lang Syne, almost inevitably recalls Peter Maxwell Davies, but
I am not sure that the method is actually so very similar. For one thing, it
seems more to be the tunes themselves that in some strange sense are forming
the drama; words at times follow Auld Lang Syne rather than vice
versa, resulting in a cyclical process one might — or might not —
consider to be a parody of serialism. (I did, but I have no idea whether that
were intended.) Stravinskian motor-rhythms power the music along, until it
stops — or are they still doing so? And just occasionally, the poster-paint
aggression — or is it an affectionate parody thereof? — seems to melt into
something more tender. But is that merely wish-fulfilment on the spectator’s
part? Is the joke on the audience?
Ramin Gray’s production seems to operate in a similar or at least parallel
fashion. There are interactions, for instance when the loudspeaker music plays
from Algernon’s iPhone. And the action is cut, stopped, made to continue
according to some ticking imperative. Moments impress, stick in the memory, for
instance the case of co-ordinated tea-drinking. One begins to ask what they
‘mean’, but already knows or at least fears that one is asking the wrong
question. Surrealism, or something like it, becomes genuinely funny. Or is it
that the funny becomes genuinely surreal? Modern dress works well, banishing
any thought that period ‘absurdity’ might heighten the farce, if that be
what it is. For disjuncture, by its very nature, continues to bring us up
short. Alienation, in work and in staging, both distances and yet brings us
tantalisingly close. For, despite or even on account of the artificiality, one
senses a deep humanity lying somewhere beneath. (Perhaps like Wilde; perhaps
The Britten Sinfonia under Tim Murray proves at least an equal partner to
the madness. Brashly rhythmic, lovingly precise, this is an estimable
performance throughout from an ensemble whose versatility seems yet to extend
itself with every year. That the players are called upon to shout and to stamp
their feet almost seems expected. Paul Curievici impresses with great
musicality as Jack Worthing, or whatever we want to call him, Benedict Nelson a
bluff foil as Algie. Hilary Summers, surely as versatile an artist as the
Britten Sinfonia, makes excellent use of her contralto range and tone as Miss
Prism, with a splendidly complementary stage gawkiness. Stephanie Marshall’s
Gwendolen and Ida Falk Winland’s Cecily shine on the mezzo and soprano
fronts, the former often warmly lyrical, the latter seemingly effortless in the
aggressively higher reaches of her range. Simon Wilding’s Lane and Merriman
offer a nice hint of rebellion, nevertheless handsomely despatched. Meanwhile,
Lady Bracknell is played by a bass, not in drag but in a suitably ghastly
barrister pinstripe; Alan Ewing rises to the occasion, and somehow seems more
real than much of the chaos around him. The cast, as the cliché has it, proves
more than the sum of its parts, as is the performance as a whole, however
awkward that fitting together or clashing of those parts may be.
Cast and production information:
John Worthing: Paul Curievici; Revd Canon Chasuble: Geoffrey Dolton;
Lady Brachnell: Alan Ewing; Gwendolen Fairfax: Stephanie Marshall; Algernon
Moncrieff: Benedict Nelson; Miss Prism: Hilary Summers; Lane/Merriman: Simon
Wilding; Cecily: Ida Falk WInland. Director: Ramin Gray; Associate Designer:
Ben Clark (after an idea by Johannes Schütz); Lighting: Franz Peter David;
Costumes: Christina Cunningham. Britten Sinfonia/Tim Murray. Linbury Studio
Theatre, Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, London, Monday 17 June 2013.