The Passion of Opera

Nine Months Later: WNO Completes Three Rousing Cycles of Wagner's Ring Cycle

2016-05-29T13:30:00.000-04:00

After a lot of international travel and a hiatus from attending many performances, I finally got back into the Kennedy Center for Washington National Opera's production of Der Ring des Nibelungen, the company's (and city's) first full cycle. I was happy to be able to attend this momentous event, and found the performances, direction, and overall concept gripping. I attended Cycle II. As I've said it similar situations before, this review will necessarily be briefer on each topic than some of my reviews, but hopefully will cover ground across the cycle and provide an overall perspective.

Der Ring des Nibelungen
Director: Francesca Zambello
Conductor: Philippe Auguin
Set Designer: Michael Yeargan
Costume Designer: Catherine Zuber
Lighting Designer: Mark McCullough
Projection Designers: S. Katy Tucker and Jan Hartley
Movement Director: Denni Sayers

Key
*WNO debut
‡ Current Domingo-Cafritz Young Artist
± Former Domingo-Cafritz Young Artist
Listed in order of vocal appearance

Das Rheingold
Woglinde: Jacqueline Echols±
Wellgunde: Catherine Martin
Flosshilde: Renée Tatum*
Alberich: Gordon Hawkins
Fricka: Elizabeth Bishop
Wotan: Alan Held
Freia: Melody Moore
Fasolt: Julian Close*
Fafner: Soloman Howard±
Froh: Richard Cox*
Donner: Ryan McKinny*
Loge: William Burden
Mime: David Cangelosi
Erda: Lindsay Ammann*
Die Walküre
Siegmund: Christopher Ventris
Sieglinde: Meagan Miller
Hunding: Raymond Aceto*
Wotan: Alan Held
Brünnhilde: Catherine Foster* (Cycles I & II), Nina Stemme* (Cycle III)
Fricka: Elizabeth Bishop
Gerhilde: Marcy Stonikas*
Helmwige: Lori Phillips
Waltraute: Catherine Martin
Schwertleite: Lindsay Ammann
Ortlinde: Melody Moore
Siegrune: Eve Gigliotti*
Grimgerde: Renée Tatum
Rossweisse: Daryl Freedman

Siegfried
Mime: David Cangelosi
Siegfried: Daniel Brenna*
The Wanderer: Alan Held
Alberich: Gordon Hawkins
Fafner: Soloman Howard±
Forest Bird: Jacqueline Echols±
Erda: Lindsay Ammann
Brünnhilde: Catherine Foster (Cycles I & II), Nina Stemme (Cycle III)

Götterdämmerung
First Norn: Lindsay Ammann
Second Norn: Jamie Barton*
Third Norn: Marcy Stonikas
Brünnhilde: Catherine Foster (Cycles I & II), Nina Stemme (Cycle III)
Siegfried: Daniel Brenna
Gunther: Ryan McKinny
Hagen: Eric Halfvarson
Gutrune: Melissa Citro*
Waltraute: Jamie Barton*
Alberich: Gordon Hawkins
Woglinde: Jacqueline Echols±
Wellgunde: Catherine Martin
Flosshilde: Renée Tatum

______________________________________________________________________________________________

First: The Production(s) As a Whole

The only other production by Francesca Zambello that I've seen was Dialogues of the Carmelites last year. While the vision was sweeping in size and austerity, as with so many abstract productions, I struggled to connect the moving performances under Zambello's direction to the artistic vision. Nevertheless, I appreciated the overall concept, and here, both in the leadership to bring this Ring together, as well as the actual vision and direction, Zambello's contribution, in tandem with Michael Yeargan, Catherine Zuber, and Mark McCullough, is exceptional.

The production's overall vision of a modern Ring, combining Americana with a broader tension between nature and the pollution of human striving is affecting. I found it most powerful when it eschewed the direct, overt references, however, and focused on the rich, almost fantastical world around which it was built. The strongest scenes were those most removed from reality, such as throughout Das Rheingold in the nascent Valhalla, and those around which Brünnhilde's moments centered (where the ring of fire ultimately ends up). Perhaps weakest for me was the opening of Die Walküre, set in a realistic cabin-like home. While the dichotomy between wealth and hubris in both Valhalla and the Gibichung hall and, on the other side, the Volsung's simple beginnings or the broken overpass under which Siegmund dies are poignant, the abstract, larger than life nature of the latter was more affecting than the former.

Overall, the landscapes are texturally rich, the costumes clever, abstract, modern, and un-impeding. As usually, I found the combination of guns and swords, as well as the Fafner robot, to be a bit hard to sustain, but a minor point. The conceit of a gridded floor with light beneath it was clever and contributed throughout all four operas. Pictures will help to demonstrate this aspect more than anything else.

As far as the direction of the singers themselves, I felt that there was a superb sense of pace and flow to the action throughout. All moves were purposeful, there were myriad opportunities for continuity errors (a risk of having four interconnected operas, for sure) that were completely avoided, and the acting supported the music, even accounting for the sometimes-troublesome aspect of Wagner's operas that focus on telling rather than showing the action.

I admit to having seen the full cycle one other time: the current production at the Wiener Staatsoper, the fall 2011 performances of which, now available on recording under Thielemann, I've reviewed on this blog. Compared against that, also a somewhat abstract, modern production, the world built by Zambello and the team here was gripping, rich, and varied, yet mostly artistically unified, and directly supported the story and the music.

Das Rheingold: Performances

The thing that struck me most about this performance of Das Rheingold was the smoothness of the performances given by every one of the singers. Absent were any signs of the Bayreuth Bark or performers clinging to character singing to survive, be heard, and mask vocal inadequacies. Rather, the performance could have been described as bel canto Wagner. This was apparent from the outset with the pleasant, robust, but still unencumbered flirtations of the Rhein Maidens. Matching them, Gordon Hawkins' Alberich eschewed the (later necessary) gruffness of his character's soul, a characteristic that continued throughout Rheingold. This performance, along with that of David Cangelosi as Mime, allowed us to see their evolution in later operas as their corruption due to the ring becomes increasingly apparent.

Similarly, both Julian Close and Soloman Howard pulled off booming, but initially relaxed and even comedic giants, a nice change from simply booming voices. Howard carried this into subsequent performances, as well, matching velvet tone with volume, depth, and remaining humor.

Among the Gods, Melody Moore and Elizabeth Bishop made a splendid pair; both aristocratic, but with Moore acting a young, naïve Freia against Bishops haughtier Fricka. These somewhat cutout characters went hand in hand with Richard Cox and Ryan McKinny as Froh and Donner, who also brought smooth singing and a sense of foolish naïveté to the scene. If the rest of the cast communicated aristocracy, none did so more profoundly than Alan Held. Held's demeanor and baritone voice - perfectly balanced between light and dark, conjured a Wotan at once wise and misguided, warrior-like and refined, and visionary and resigned. Held made it possible to understand the many contradictions of the character and how he both willfully succeeds while continually shooting himself in the foot. Lindsay Ammann's Erda, perhaps vocally brighter than some in the role, communicated the stop-the-action haunting atmosophere in her scene beautifully, and interpretation focused as much on serenity as mystery. Most impressive of the evening, however, was William Burden. Just as would be expected of Loge, he moved effortlessly between dynamics, painting tones, whispers, seductive tones, and simply beautiful singing. His looks and acting also supported the unclear but present notion that Loge is in control of everything around him, and that he bears some responsibility for the goings on of the Ring. The only regret I had about this performance is that the masterful portrayal is limited to Das Rheingold, denying us further view of Burden onstage and also cutting short any overarching plot that might be intended with Loge.

Die Walküre: Performances

I will avoid repeating observations except where there was a significant evolution in the performance.

The voice of the evening's Hunding, Raymond Aceto, contained a steeliness that fit the character's uptight, almost brutal worldview and helped immediately win hearts to the (otherwise somewhat questionable) plight of Siegmund and Sieglinde. When I saw the Ring in Vienna, Christopher Ventris played Siegfried there, as well. As five years ago, I was impressed with the smoothness of his singing. While many of the performers in Das Rheingold have characterizations less concerned with a traditional view of masculinity, Ventris vocally pulls off heroism without brutish singing. Almost contrary to this, Meagan Miller's Sieglinde shimmered with a silvery white light - beautiful as she falls in love, and almost like frantic white lightning as she loses Siegmund and her worldview collapses around her. It's a very demanding role that she handles admirable.

If it seems like I keep hitting the same theme of bel-canto-like singing, it is with good reason, and nowhere more so than with the Valkyries. With so many loud, vibrato-laden, and sometimes biting voices involved at the same time, their scenes can sometimes seem to devolve into a shouting match, which is firmly avoided here. Catherine Foster, who was Brünnhilde for the cycle I witnessed, not unlike Christopher Ventris, balanced lyrical singing with heroism and willful fortitude, which only increased in her later, challenging performances.

Siegfried: Performances

Siegfried is a test of many singers we've seen before, and of course introduces some new ones.

Notably, I found myself frequently wondering "what happened to the aristocracy of Alan Held's Wotan?" This is what was so beautiful about his use of his voice in earlier productions. Reserved and in control in Das Rheingold, furious and domineering in Die Walküre. His earlier "smile behind the eyes" tone returns even more strongly here; a god who has made peace with his past actions and is able to restrain himself to playing games with Mime. It's the last time we see him, but it's a great lasting impression of versatility, all within the same well-structured vocal paradigm.

Contrary to this, both Gordon Hawkins and, particularly, David Cangelosi, show evolving Nibelungen. For Hawkins its a slow evolution - a slimier, rougher tone and more blatant acting. For Cangelosi, this is where we see him come into his own as Mime. Alone among the performances in this cycle, we see character singing/acting from Cangelosi's Mime. And yet, perhaps because the rest of the performances take place in such an "operatic" bel canto style, it works well here. Not only does Cangelosi actually pull it off and make it sound good, it drives home his buffoonery and incompetence compared against that of Siegfried, while nevertheless demonstrating Siegfried's naïveté in failing to understand Mime's fairly obvious true nature.

Coming around to Siegfried himself, Daniel Brenna is impressive here. As his biography in the program notes, he's one of the youngest, most convincing Siegfried's out there. His looks and his singing communicate a sense of youthful abandon - a gung-ho attitude that lacks a full understanding of the world around him. Vocally, he manages to sustain a true sung tone throughout in one of the roles most at risk for barking and shouting. Unlike in other listenings, I was not struck by a break between a smooth Siegmund and a rough Siegfried. Both Ventris and Brenna are heroic and both are vocally consistent. When paired with Jacqueline Echols as a delightfully innocence and vocally pure Forest Bird, Fafner as a monster suddenly possessing of pathos at his demise, or, of course, Catherine Foster as a woman awakening to love (literally and figuratively), the effect is powerful. Each of the pairings amplified both participants' best qualities. For their part, while the scene at the end did drag a bit (probably Wagner's fault, there), Brenna and Foster combined Wagnerian fire and passion with beautiful singing to convincingly bring the love story to life.

Götterdämmerung: Performances

Opening with the Norns, I found one place where casting was perhaps a bit peculiar; each individual performance was solid, but the three women did not seem to sing together as a cohesive unit. This may be an artistic choice, but the scene, with the three on very separate parts of the stage, felt perhaps a bit disjointed. Contrastingly, the other trio of Rhein Maidens continued the silky yet powerful singing that they opened the cycle, perhaps pulling out even more stops in their attempts to seduce Siegfried, a harder target than Alberich.

Gordon Hawkins' return as Alberich was also in line with his character development; while his singing remained consistent, the nastiness of his character was truly apparent in his final showing. Contrastingly, Eric Halfvarson as Hagen, by contrast, maintained a different sort of menace alloyed by his booming voice. His form of aristocracy, a sort of nouveau riche, differed from that of Wotan and his crew in Das Rheingold, an intriguing and clever shading. Ryan McKinny played right into this, applying his same vocal talents and acting skills in a different fashion than in the role of Donner. Meanwhile, Melissa Citro, while bringing appropriately Wagnerian vocal resources to bear, was most notable in her ability to color those resources in a bright fashion that supported her somewhat head in the clouds Gutrune.

For our stars, Daniel Brenna was admittedly seen to flag a bit at this point in the cycle. He maintained a sung-through interpretation without resorting to hollering or theatrics, but muscle crept into the tone and some of the high notes were white knuckle at times. Still, his youthful acting and vocal approach remained much appreciated, and he is, at the end, a hero deluded and slain, so a bit of wear and tear didn't feel totally out of place. Contrariwise, Catherine Foster remained heroic until the end, with the same consistent, brilliant vocalism that carried her through earlier parts of the cycle

If I had one major complaint, it probably came down to the end of the cycle. I have no problem with the message that the women of the cycle helped to heal and reverse the issues largely caused by the men in the cycle. Similarly, I have no issue with the idea of rebirth and the culmination of the earth undoing through fire and water the sins of the gods. Still, crowds of women and a child planting a tree at the end of the opera felt blunt and cliche in a cycle otherwise so brilliantly nuanced. Indeed, this made the scene feel stylistically and contextually disconnected from the cycle, which undermined a sense of closure.

Philippe Auguin & the WNO Orchestra

Perhaps the greatest hero of this cycle, beyond any of the individual performances listed above, was Philippe Auguin in his direction of the WNO Orchestra. As the Washington Post's Anne Midgette noted in her own review, the range displayed in these performances was astounding. While Wagner is, and should be, at times quite loud, there is so much more to the music in its intimate, and even comedic, moments. Auguin was able to play this full spectrum from near-silence to full, rounded sound. It was this that undergirded, I believe, the entire mode of the performance. The singing that was nuanced and in a true, sung, bel canto style seemed like an outgrowth of direction and musicianship grounded in the nuances of the music. Ultimately, since it is the orchestra that plays all 18 or so hours of the cycle, it was this that made all the difference in WNO's cycle.

All in all, WNO's Ring Cycle was an outstanding triumph years in the making, from excellent conception and direction to brilliant singing and acting, and to superb orchestral musicality. Wagner may not be everyone's preference, but these were gripping, vivid performances that showed his seminal work at its best.

Opera On Two Continents

2015-11-29T15:39:00.002-05:00

Over the past two weeks I had the wonderful opportunity to return to Vienna, where I studied in 2011 and posted many of the reviews on this blog. While I was there, I attended three more operas at the Wiener Staatsoper, bringing my standing room total there to 29 operas (and one Volksoper opera - for 30 standing room operas in Vienna): Puccini's La boheme, Massenet's Werther, and Strauss' Elektra. All three were excellent, particularly the latter two. Upon my return to the United States last week, I immediately was at a performance of the revised version of Philip Glass' Appomattox. This performance was also quite interesting for me, as it is the second Glass opera I have seen and very different from his Satyagraha in London. As a bonus: a quick review of a concert by The Tenors (formerly The Canadian Tenors) performing one man down. Reviews will be shorter than a standard review, but the performances raised a few interesting points I want to record.

Vienna

La boheme

Giacomo Puccini

Marco Armiliato | Dirigent
Franco Zeffirelli | Regie und Bühnenbild
Marcel Escoffier | Kostüme
Piero Pretti | Rodolfo
Marita Sølberg (Replaced by Dinara Alieva) | Mimì
Gabriel Bermúdez | Marcello
Aida Garifullina | Musetta
Manuel Walser | Schaunard
Jongmin Park | Colline
Marcus Pelz | Benoit
Marcus Pelz | Alcindoro

It was wonderful to return to the Wiener staatsoper and revisit Franco Zeffirelli's much beloved set with it's traditional bohemian trappings, massive second act crowd scene, and mysterious snow-capped third act. While the individual performances of the singers in this particular outing were adequately successful, the true success was with Marco Armiliato in the pit and with some particular moments that stuck out, more from a dramatic than a musical perspective, and really made the evening. Piero Pretti proved an adequate Rodolfo, but like so many in the role seemed to lack the free sweetness one might desire of the poet. Gabriel Bermúdez was the quintessential rock solid Marcello. Aida Garifullina, as Musetta, certainly stole every moment she was given with ravishing looks and a voice that plumbed both the darker color of the role while retaining the soprano freedom required. Dinara Alieva, standing in for Marita Sølberg, sang quite a lackluster first half as Mimì, but from "addio... senza rancor" onward, found a breathtaking sensitivity to the music as her voice warmed to Puccini's lush lines.

It was those moments, so easily missed in a story that practically tells itself, that really made the evening. Take, for instance, the direction to have Marcello introduce Mimì and Musetta in the second act. This opportunity, so often missed, was slyly inserted here, offering much more logic as to how the two might've gotten to know each other prior to Musetta's great care with the muff in the final act. Alternately, in Jongmin Park's performance of "Vecchia zimarra," an often awkwardly placed aria, it truly felt like his clutching of his coat was him clutching onto the life force of Mimì, as though willing it not to depart. Other moments, such as the "addio... senza rancor" I mentioned above and the dramatic transition from lighthearted fun to "C'e Mimì," helped make this a memorable performance, if not a vocal epiphany.

Werther

Jules Massenet

Frédéric Chaslin | Dirigent

Andrei Serban | Regie

Peter Pabst | Ausstattung

Petra Reinhardt | Kostümmitarbeit

Matthew Polenzani | Werther

Markus Eiche | Albert

Elīna Garanča | Charlotte

Alfred Šramek | Le Bailli

Hila Fahima | Sophie

Peter Jelosits | Schmidt

Mihail Dogotari | Johann

Where La boheme above may have won the evening on its dramatic merits more than its vocal (some exceptional moments notwithstanding), Werther was the opposite - easily one of the most spectacular evenings of singing I have ever experienced but marred by some directorial oddities at the end of the performance. The production, relying on its centerpiece tree that changed with the seasons, is decidedly stylized but not ineffective, allowing plenty of places for performers to hide, recline, or otherwise move in and out of as the production progresses. Unfortunately, it was toward the end of the production that, rather than just closing out the stylized but heartfelt performance, the stage direction took a jarring and unrealistic turn. Though having Charlotte declare her love for Werther and Albert thus reject her makes perfect sense, the degree of sexuality of Charlotte's connection to Werther - passionately straddling him after he has already shot himself, seemed beyond believability. Similarly, Albert's rejection of her, standing resolutely and silently, felt a bit too stylized to make sense given the authentic passions created by the singing and acting of the principals.

That singing, however, made the night. Elīna Garanča did not disappoint in the challenging role of Charlotte, with her pleasant, honeyed mezzo-soprano starting out more robust but finding more and more nuance as the production went along, perhaps not unlike Charlotte herself. Certainly Elīna Garanča's serenity played right into the mid-twentieth century vibe of the production, as well. If there were a standout star, however, it was the slightly less famous Matthew Polenzani, whose tenor serenades throughout the eponymous role boasted drippingly gorgeous tone from ppp to fff. At times he could muster the full Verdian sound that he certainly exhibits in other performances. More often, however, he sang softly, in a head-dominant tone that brought home the nuanced arias Massenet sprinkles throughout Werther. Even "Pourquoi me reveiller," in which I expected more robustness, ended in a diminuendo al niente that brought down the house. Next to these performances, both Markus Eiche, a perennial Viennese favorite, Hila Fahima as Sophie, provided excellent counterpoints through their spot-on fächer, but were left in the dust by the opera's main couple.

Elektra

Richard Strauss

Peter Schneider | Dirigent

Uwe Eric Laufenberg | Regie

Rolf Glittenberg | Bühne

Marianne Glittenberg | Kostüme

Andreas Grüter | Licht

Anna Larsson | Klytämnestra

Nina Stemme | Elektra

Regine Hangler | Chrysothemis

Herbert Lippert | Aegisth

Iain Paterson | Orest

Il Hong | Pfleger des Orest

Simina Ivan | Vertraute

Aura Twarowska | Schleppträgerin

Thomas Ebenstein | Junger Diener

Hans Peter Kammerer | Alter Diener

Donna Ellen | Aufseherin

Monika Bohinec | 1. Magd

Ilseyar Khayrullova | 2. Magd

Ulrike Helzel | 3. Magd

Caroline Wenborne | 4. Magd

Ildikó Raimondi | 5. Magd

Secil Ilker | 1. Dienerin

Jung Won Han | 2. Dienerin

Kaya Maria Last | 3. Dienerin

Jozefina Monarcha | 4. Dienerin

Zsuzsanna Szabó | 5. Dienerin

Sabine Kogler | 6. Dienerin

I openly admit I have never been a Wagnerian acolyte, a factor which extends to his apostles such as Strauss and Mahler, as well. Nevertheless, I can certainly appreciate the contributions these great composers brought: the prelude to Parsifal brought me to tears and I personally experienced the power of Mahler in a choral performance this fall, in which I was a singer. It is from that experience that I can say this production of Elektra is Strauss as he is meant to be performed (particularly of the Salome/Elektra period). The production, with its central orange-hued elevators, prison-like showers, and piled rubble conveys simultaneously a sense of early-mid-century Viennese refinement and a concentration-camp-like aura of psychological horror (you know you're back in Europe seeing theatre/opera when the lights come up on a collection of nude women blasted by a hose). The moving of the elevators and the word "Totet" scrawled in blood only added to this feeling. I did feel the production overplayed its hand just a bit toward the end: the many bloodied figures, both human and animal, in the many stalls of the elevators made too explicit the otherwise haunting suggestiveness of the production as a whole. Similarly, while cleverly symbolic, the reunion between Elektra and Orest in which she pulls off her pants to reveal a skirt beneath, ultimately was more confusing than helpful (momentarily seeming to imply incest rather than a transition of traditionally masculine responsibility). Most egregious was the disappearance, rather than apparent death, of Elektra at the opera's close.

Musically, the performance only built on the psychological aura provided by (most of) the staging. Peter Schneider and the massive forces of orchestra managed to never overwhelm the singers while still crushing the audience under the aural power of Strauss' evocative, disturbing score. As Chrysothemis, Regine Hangler sometimes struggled to make it to the very top of the part's range, but never actually failed to achieve those pinnacles. Her voice, generally full and solid but sometimes ranging to shrill, helped to convey the sense of infantilism brought out by this production of the opera (in her costuming, as well as her voice). Anna Larsson, a mainstay of the Viennese scene and the rare truly convincing operatic contralto, was formidable both in the stature of her heeled costume and also in her command of the role of Klytämnestra. Almost paradoxically, this helped to convey the crippling paranoia incited by her manipulative caretakers. Finally, of course, Nina Stemme's Elektra was a force of nature with which to be reckoned. In part due to the excellent guidance of Peter Schneider but largely due to her own vocal prowess, she never struggled to be heard, battling the orchestra even in the opera's loudest, most jarring moments. This fortitude added to the psychological discomfort the opera provokes. Indeed, Stemme's unshakeable Elektra was so effective it not only unmanned a soft Herbert Lippert as Aegisth, but almost overwhelmed the solid Iain Paterson as Orest, as well. Perhaps most interesting was how well defined, through costumes and acting but vocally, as well, the differences between an incapable, infantile Chrysothemis, an aged, crippled Klytämnestra, and a strong "woman in her prime," but nevertheless deranged Elektra.

Washington, D.C.

Appomattox

Philip Glass

Abraham Lincoln / Lyndon B. Johnson
Tom Fox
Frederick Douglass / Martin Luther King Jr.
Soloman Howard±Robert E. Lee / Edgar Ray Killen
David Pittsinger
Ulysses S Grant / Nicholas Katzenbach
Richard Paul Fink
Julia Grant / Viola Liuzzo
Melody Moore
Wilmer McLean / J. Edgar Hoover
Robert BrubakerT. Morris Chester / John Lewis
Frederick BallentineMary Todd Lincoln / Lady Bird Johnson
Anne-Carolyn BirdElizabeth Keckley / Coretta Scott King
Chrystal E. WilliamsMary Custis Lee / Secretary
Keriann Otaño‡
General Howell Cobb / James Fowler
Timothy J. Bruno‡
Edward Alexander / Cartha DeLoach
Robert BakerJohn Aaron Rawlins / George Wallace
Aleksey Bogdanov±Mrs. Dorsey / Amelia Boynton
Leah Hawkins‡
Col. Ely S. Parker
Dane Suarez

Director
Tazewell Thompson
Conductor
Dante Santiago Anzolini*
Set Designer
Donald Eastman*
Costume Designer
Merrily Murray-Walsh*
Lighting Designer
Robert Wierzel

I admit that I walked into Glass revised version of Appomattox somewhat exhausted due to having traveled back to the United States from Vienna just the day before. I am chalking up to that much of my inattention and boredom in the first act (more or less the original). The act picked up speed as it went along, however, and the conclusion, knitting together the racial themes with the conclusion of the Civil War, set up the emotional roller coaster of the second act. In some ways, the second act felt more inspired, blending humor, racial tension, and interpersonal emotion into a tapestry that truly investigates the racial tensions of the Civil Rights Movement that persist today. Indeed, the haunting epilogue only helps draw that connection to the modern era.

Glass himself drew a comparison between his own Satyagraha and Appomattox, citing the rhapsodic nature of the former as very different from the folksy origins of much of the melody in Appomattox. This division was clear to me and highlights Glass' flexibility as a composer. Nevertheless, the minimalist cyclicality for which he is known, sublimated in Appomattox into the orchestra, works far better in the context of Satyagraha. Both operas use the voice as another instrument, eschewing the vocality of individual performers for a use of the voice more focused on the whole musical experience (Satyagraha) and the telling of the story (Appomattox). My overall feeling about Appomattox was that the opera has some incredible moments but overall feels a bit disjointed between orchestra and voice, between acts I and II, and in its emotional punch (a feeling I do believe is distinct from some of the musical foibles on the particular night I attended). I walked away impressed and affirmed that the work plays a major role in the 20th/21st century canon, but wishing for a slightly tighter work.

Lulu (oops)

I had hoped to make it to the Metropolitan Opera's MetHD broadcast of Lulu as I have not ever watched a production and the work is fascinatingly constructed. Having just returned from my trip to Vienna, it proved impossible, but I will certainly try to catch it if there is an encore broadcast or when it is released for smaller screens.

The Tenors

The weekend brought one more musical performance: The Tenors, formerly The Canadian Tenors at Strathmore Hall in Maryland. I have seen the group several times before, but this performance is part of a tour for their new album. A surprise in this performance, however, was that Remigio Pereira, one of the group's larger voiced performers, was sick in Toronto with bronchitis, bane of singers. It fell to the robust lirico-spinto Victor Micallef and more pop/broadway Fraser Walters and Clifton Murray to make their way through the evening. Consequently, I spent most of the evening trying to evaluate how the group adapted to being down a member. I do believe the harmonies, particularly on some of the spiritual-inspired pieces, were less lush than they would've been had Remigio been present. Indeed, the three remaining members were clearly concentrating much more and taking cues from one another more clearly than in other performances I have seen. I also noted a few places where melody seemed to prevail, perhaps due to some uncertainty as to how to rebuild the intended harmonic structure. In all, though, it was an impressive performance with some moving moments and, to the layman, likely impossible to tell what had changed. While I would never expect them to ditch him, Remigio might do well to recognize the group could survive without him! That said, the immensely impressive operatic quality of the voice of Victor Micallef dramatically overbalanced the voices of the other two members, rectified only by the heavy live mixing going on. Having two more operatically inclined voices rather than one provides better balance for the group as a whole.

Classical Holidays in Washington, D.C.: A Beginner's Guide

2015-11-22T15:46:00.005-05:00

I composed this article, in its original format below, to introduce a different audience to the basics of classical music in D.C. this holiday season. In reality, the recommendations below are probably applicable anywhere, just with different specific groups and performances involved. For the experienced reader, this article may not add much, but it's a good revue of what's out there and will bring joy to anyone, classical music lover or not.

The D.C. area offers many options across genres for classical music around the holiday season. Perhaps it bears an important note that the classical music tradition, coming as it did out of Europe, is tied largely to Christian traditions. Nevertheless, the music borne from this background offers both moving and delighting evenings built around stories of universal human value.

Perhaps the most iconic classical piece of the season is Tchaikovsky’s ballet The Nutcracker, replete with charming music that has extended far beyond the worlds of classical music and ballet. Whether the "Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies," the music of the Snow Queen, or the "March of the Wooden Soldiers," the music holds something for all ages. While the Joffrey Ballet’s performances at the Kennedy Center have past, the Washington Ballet will be performing the work from December 3rd through December 27th at the Warner Theatre. Indeed, in this telling of the story, Georgetown, cherry blossoms, and both George Washington and King George III join the fun for a local flavor.

A lesser known work compared to The Nutcracker, Englebert Humperdinck’s Hansel and Gretel, originally in German but performed in English translation with English titles by Washington National Opera from December 12th through December 20th, is the iconic equivalent of the opera world. A quick look at photos from the production promises the bright, light, and cheery production one would expect for this beloved tale. While the story does follow the original Grimm brothers’ fairytale more closely than some other interpretations, the opera is still geared toward the casual visitor and serves well for younger relatives, just like The Nutcracker.

Stepping away from the stage, the music of G.F. Handel’s Messiah has also escaped containment within the classical realm and sublimated into broader culture. Most notable, of course, is the famous chorus "Hallelujah." While the piece does clock in at two and a half to three hours and is firmly classical music, the interplay of chorus and soloists keeps the evening diverse. The National Symphony will perform the work December 17th through December 20th. For those more familiar with Messiah already, on December 23rd the Kennedy Center will host a sing-along Messiah.
For a broader repertoire of music, there are countless orchestral and choral groups in the D.C. area offering performances throughout December.

Speaking of the Kennedy Center, no fewer than three such performances by different groups will take place at that location. More choral groups will be performing, as well, at the National Cathedral and scattered across the city (including Choralis, to which I belong!). The style is not limited to classical choral, however, as U.S. military bands will also perform music with holiday cheer. To find more information on these types of performances, the Washington Post is particularly helpful, but a simple scan of Google can help point you in the right direction.

No matter what your particular interest, there is sure to be a concert over this holiday season in the D.C. area that will appeal and provide an evening of wonder.

Everything Else: The Rest of the Washington National Opera Season

2015-09-19T13:28:00.000-04:00

Last month we took a look at Washington National Opera’s first-ever production of Wagner’s Ring Cycle. While such a momentous undertaking does take up a large amount of the company’s time and money, it is not the only thing on the docket for the season. Here’s a look at the other shows upcoming over the next several months.

First up is Bizet’s Carmen, September 19-October 3. It is a safe bet for the company, though, with famous showstoppers such as the Habanera, “L’amour est un oiseau rebelle,” and the Toreador song, “Votre toast!,” both of which have made their way into popular culture with their instantly recognizable tunes.

The next show up is Appomattox, November 14-22. As an opera by Philip Glass, this show fits into the style of minimalism popularized in the 20^th century. This may not be everyone’s cup of tea. Glass is known for writing music that is highly cyclical, repeating themes hundreds of times with slight modification time after time. That said, this is the premiere of a revised version of the show, and touches on highly poignant topics in our country today. For the company, it’s a bold move in a season with only one standard (Carmen) and a big set of one kind of music (Ring Cycle).

The final main show in the season is Lost in the Stars, February 12-20. While it comes last (before the Ring), it should prove to be an excellent entrée for those less certain about the genre. Lost in the Stars is a musical tragedy by German-American composer Kurt Weill based on Alan Paton's classic 1948 novel Cry, the Beloved Country. Kurt Weill’s trademark as a composer is to merge his classical background and love of the opera out of German houses with the Broadway, gospel, African spirituals, jazz, and blues he found in America. In the lead role will be Eric Owens, a serious opera singer who last starred in WNO’s production of Wagner’s The Flying Dutchman last season. Whether you call it an opera, and operetta, or a musical, it’s a brilliantly conceived show with top-notch voices and music.

Between Appomattox and Lost in the Stars there are a few other opportunities out there. Washington National Opera has an annual program called the American Opera Initiative. This program takes aim at two major deficiencies in the opera canon today: the lack of modern opera and the lack of American opera. While the shows the Initiative produces are short, sometimes paired together in groups of three shows, they offer an insight into the cutting edge and what might be the next big thing. Going might be more of a gamble than Carmen or even the Ring Cycle, but it could also be exciting!

That’s a look at the rest of Washington National Opera’s season. I hope to see you there!

A Behemoth Undertaking: Wagner’s Ring Cycle at Washington National Opera

2015-08-25T21:36:00.000-04:00

It's been a long time since I've posted here. That's certainly not the intention. I do enjoy blogging about opera, be it in D.C., elsewhere in the U.S., or abroad. That said, work has been quite consuming lately. For other purposes, I did just recently write a sort of "introductory guide" to the Ring Cycle, and thought it would make sense to post it here.
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Wagner’s Der Ring des Nibelungen or, as it’s usually put in English, Ring Cycle, constitutes the most substantial undertaking in the operatic world. It is a “cycle” of four operas, Der Rheingold, Die Walküre, Siegfried, and Götterdämmerung, with every opera except the first clocking in at over five hours in length. Usually, the same cast of stalwart singers performs across all four performances, singing over an orchestra of approximately 100 instruments. It’s been called one of the greatest triumphs of music and mocked by serious critics and Looney Tunes alike.

Given the musical demands above, as well as the theatrical demands of designing four shows that hang together thematically, it is unsurprising that the artistic and financial burdens of a full Ring Cycle are out of reach for many opera companies including, until the 2015-2016 season, Washington National Opera. It is a tremendous achievement for the company to be presenting the work in full for the first time.

Still, as a casual attendee of cultural events, you may be wondering, why would I spend $612 (the cheapest price for all four shows as a package) and attend 15-20 hours of opera known to be almost overwhelming in proportions and, furthermore, all in German?

First, while $612 is expensive, it does break down to $153 per show. Not cheap, but four shows at $153 each looks a lot better than $612 in a lump sum. Pragmatism aside, the sheer monumentality of the work, while requiring a commitment of time and focus, makes it an experience unlike any other. The music is loud yet sonorous, the singing rigorous yet lush, and the story enveloping as it moves along.

For those who are more inclined to the nuances of the music, it can be fun to pick out what Wagner called a leitmotif. This is a musical theme meant to represent a specific theme in the story, for instance the redemption by love, the palace of Valhalla, or the eponymous ring. These, along with Wagner’s philosophical belief that all art – orchestra, voice, visual, etc., be combined into one performance, make for an interesting musical experience.

If you’re more inclined to the story, to history, or to the broader fabric of culture, Wagner is a central and sometimes controversial figure. The story of the Ring Cycle is very similar to that of The Lord of the Rings – a ring is forged by the Norse gods and ends up in the mortal world, leading to conflict between three different groups and resolved by an earthly hero. Beyond its cultural impact shaping later art, the music permanently altered the course of music history, as well. Finally, the music and the story itself entered a dark chapter when used as propaganda by the Third Reich. This is despicable and Wagner’s support for such views is unclear, but experiencing the work itself is the best way to build our own informed opinions on the matter.

Hence, whether as a musical experience, a cultural touchstone, or an artifact of history, there is much to be gained experiencing Wagner’s Ring Cycle. It is a great undertaking for both Washington National Opera and the attendee, but one well worth it.

And... If it seems like too much... Just keep in mind that a few other lunatics and I stood through the hole thing in Vienna... :)

Constant Comedy: Rossini's La Cenerentola at the Washington National Opera

2015-05-26T01:56:00.001-04:00

It's been a while since my last post. Life and getting into work somewhat overtook me. That said, I had occasion to write a piece on Washington National Opera's performance of Rossini's La Cenerentola for a work publication and wanted to adapt that here as a review of that performance. This was my favorite performance of the season and a great note to end on. I am looking forward to the momentous season next year with the standard of Carmen, some unusual selections, and the first full Ring in the city in a single season. I will be out for most of the opera in the area this summer, but hope to make and review a few performances.

General information & synopsis: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_Cenerentola

La Cenerentola | Gioachino Rossini

Angelina (Cenerentola): Isabel Leonard* (May 9, 13, 16, 19, 21) / Tara Erraught* (May 11, 15, 17m)
Don Ramiro: Maxim Mironov* (May 9, 13, 16, 19, 21) / David Portillo* (May 11, 15, 17m)
Dandini: Simone Alberghini
Don Magnifico: Paolo Bordogna* (May 9, 11, 13, 16, 19, 21) / Valeriano Lanchas^ (May 15, 17m)
Alidoro: Shenyang*
Tisbe: Deborah Nansteel**
Clorinda: Jacqueline Echols**
Conductor: Speranza Scappucci*
Director: Joan Font*
Set and Costume Designer: Joan Guillén*
Lighting Designer: Albert Faura*
Choreographer: Xevi Dorca*

* WNO debut
** Current Domingo-Cafritz Young Artist
^ Former Domingo-Cafritz Young Artist

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Note: I attended the production on November 19th and saw the cast members, with no substitutions, listed for that date.

La Cenerentola, as a fairytale comedy (albeit less of a total fairytale than the Disney version with which we are all so familiar) lends itself well to over-the-top interpretations and almost ridiculous sets and costumes. Joan Guillén’s set focused on a fairly standard grey, two-tiered interior of a house with a chimney to demonstrate Cinderella’s initial drab surroundings. This transformed well into a tall door, opening up endless possibilities, just as the plot does for Cinderella, and to the palace and the ball scene by adding color into the backdrop. It was in the costumes, though, that the magic truly blossomed, with period dresses in vivid pastels highlighting the ridiculousness of stepsisters Clorinda and Tisbe, an almost-wedding-appropriate dress for Cinderella poking fun at her transformation while nevertheless enchanting her (with the whimsy of lime green sunglasses added in to disguise her identity), and the men dressed in out fits at once ridiculous and befitting their stations. The entire affair might’ve come off as kitschy, but given the nature of the piece, it felt right in place. The conceit, revealed at the very end, that the whole thing might have been a dream came off as touchingly on point rather than cliché due to its brevity and ambiguity.

Joan Font’s production, driven by these whimsical designs and by the omnipresent cadre of mice that serve as Cinderella’s fantastical helpers, emphasized that very idea of whimsy. The comedy stopped just short of slapstick but maintained an air of ridiculousness. Brilliantly, each character’s role in the comedy varied with their nature. Clorinda, Tisbe, and Don Magnifico were strikingly silly, while the more serious characters of Don Ramiro, Cinderella, Dandini, and especially Alidoro contributed more subtly to the bubbling laughter inspired by the piece.

Behind all of the florid singing inherent to Rossini, the orchestra performed admirably under the unusually theatrical yet precise direction of Speranza Scappucci, supporting singers in a repertoire where the ability to do so is central. Clorinda and Tisbe, played by Jacqueline Echols and Deborah Nansteel respectively, were superbly sung, at times even outshining the principals with whom they share some ensemble moments. If Echols’ seeming investiture in her character seemed to top Nansteel’s, it only served to give the characters individual personalities. Shenyang’s Alidoro was backed by a solid, woody bass that conveyed immediate authority and transitioned seamlessly from beggar to wise man. As Dandini, Simone Alberghini acted as an excellent foil to Maxim Mironov’s Don Ramiro, playing with the clever humor of the servant masquerading as master without stealing the show too much. Unfortunately, his robust baritone lacked the agility to carry Rossini’s lines when he was not slowing them down to exaggerate his feigned nobility.

Paolo Bordogna as Don Magnifico definitely provided the most bluntly comedic performance. His complete comfort and vocal freedom allowed him to focus, sometimes with modern vocal gestures, on presenting a completely absurd man striving for nobility beyond his station. If this sometimes felt like mugging, it was balanced well by the other characters in the opera, whose more subtle interpretations kept the differentiation between characters in line. Maxim Mironov, as Don Ramiro, sang splendidly. While his uppermost register definitely noticeably lighter, less piercing color, he commanded the rest of the voice with surprising volume, flowing beauty, and an unfailingly noble sweetness befitting his role as prince charming, while convincingly playing both the nobleman feigning the servant and the smitten prince. A few interpolated high notes, held just long enough to thrill, solidified his impressive outing. Finally, Cinderella herself. Isabel Leonard, a star on the scene, certainly has the fairytale beauty of Cinderella and consistently demonstrated kindness, purity of heart, and a will to love and be enchanted by it. If she never developed that character to dynamically represent an empowered, wiser Cinderella after her transformation, the fault for that perhaps lies more with Rossini and librettist Jacopo Ferretti than with Leonard. Vocally, Leonard’s rock solid consistency and beautiful tone, which while in the mezzo-soprano range suggests the timbre of a soprano, was irreproachable. Indeed, her “Non piú mesta” remained flawless through bird-like ornamentation. Perhaps the only drawback of consistency is a lack of fire and salesmanship on the high notes and exciting moments, but that tradeoff was well worth it, considering the night as a whole. Indeed, as a whole, La Cenerentola was a delightful evening of exciting, consistently high quality performance on all accounts.

High and Low: Beethoven's Missa Solemnis at the Kennedy Center

2014-11-22T18:44:00.000-05:00

This was my first time attending Beethoven's Missa Solemnis in a live performance, a work so often overshadowed by the Beethoven's Sympthony No. 9, not only throughout history, but on the very night the two premiered simultaneously. Once again, Anne Midgette of the Washington Post offers an insightful review that focuses a great deal on the nature of the work itself; I will focus more on the performance.

General information: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Missa_solemnis_(Beethoven)

Missa solemnis | Ludwig van Beethoven

Soprano | Julia Sophie Wagner

Mezzo-Soprano | Daniela Mack

Tenor | Vale Rideout

Bass | Kevin Thompson

Violin | Nurit Bar-Josef

Conductor | Julian Wachner

Washington Chorus & Orchestra

Presented in the Concert Hall of the Kennedy Center

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The ensemble for the evening was led by Julian Wachner, who conducted with an economy of motion that nevertheless communicated a clear interpretation of the work. It was an interpretation that eschewed the extremes; no wild Bernstein-esque conducting for the mass' biggest moments or excessively hushed pianissimi, elsewhere. While the latter might contribute to a sense of solemnity, overall this choice helped emphasize the complex writing, allowing it to stand on its own rather than extravagantly overplaying the mass' individual elements, as often happens (I would argue more appropriately) with Symphony No. 9. That's not to say that Wachner and the amassed ensemble performed poorly or that the interpretation felt misplaced, although there were a few places, particularly in the first two movements, where the ensemble felt not entirely coherent and the brass struggled to behave. Like so much of Beethoven's mature work (Symphony No. 9, Fidelio, etc.), the piece is an amalgamation of complicated ideas and forces, representing a transition from Classical to Romantic eras, a new era in Beethoven's troubled life, and a full slate of orchestral and solo forces. What was remarkable about Wachner's guidance was its ability to elicit stunning moments out of this complicated "mess." If it failed to elicit a uniform performance with a stunning finale, perhaps that is because, unlike the competing Symphony No. 9, it has no stunning finale and inherently lacks uniformity.

It was some of the solo performances that contributed particularly to these moments. Nurit Bar-Josef, serving as both solo violinist and concertmaster, gave a rivetingly lyrical performance in the "Sanctus." The searingly precise yet mellifluous, buttery line unwound, convincingly assuming the role of the descending Holy Spirit. In a work that, by default due to its considerable forces, even when they effectively hush, is quite loud and large, Bar-Josef offered a tranquil relief. As mentioned above, both the informal orchestra and the Washington Chorus performed admirably, if with a few slight missteps and places it felt they weren't quite onboard with Wachner's direction. For a relatively large choir, the Washington Chorus achieved admirable precision, if not quite that of what might be achieved by a smaller, Bach-like ensemble.

The male soloists provided an interesting mix to the ensemble, with bass Kevin Thompson seeming almost outsized for the part and tenor Vale Rideout complimenting him with a sound a notch too thick for the tone of the evening. Certainly, especially in our modern era, Beethoven requires large voices capable of singing over a full orchestra and choir. Though those proportions may have swung a bit too far in the post-Wagnerian era compared to the requirements in Beethoven's time, they are realities with which artists must contend. Still, Thompson's powerful voice, while grounding, felt almost overwhelming in the work, though a beautiful, resonant bass voice, without a doubt. Kevin Thompson fit well with this; the dark, thick sound he produces fits the germanic feel of Beethoven, but often became strained in what is still a rangy part. As a pair they fit well together but gave the sense of a Wagner opera more than a Beethoven mass.

If the men were a pair, so too were the women, and what a radiantly shining pair they were, truly giving life to the night and bringing to life Beethoven's (at times) vibrant writing. While Thompson and Rideout may have contended with Beethoven's off-kilter vocal writing (most noticeably present in Fidelio), perhaps these parts fit the female voice, or at least these female voices, more naturally. Daniela Mack's firm, rich, yet balanced mezzo-soprano voice anchored the many duet moments between the two voices (as well as ringing out on its own, as well). Whether in the lowest reaches or the highest, her uniformity of tone was unshakeable. If Daniela Mack was warmly glinting gold, Julia Sophie Wagner's bell-clear soprano wove around it like bright silver filigree. In a few of the most taxing moments she was pushed to her limit, but managed admirably, her voice well-fitted to its solo passages and working exquisitely in combination with Mack. The two, with Bar-Josef, were the night's highlight.

While perhaps not the most typical performance of Missa solemnis, this night provided a complex, intellectual, and at times gripping performance of the work, offering insights into many of its diverse, difficult facets. Meanwhile, the soloists offered some of the night's most stunning moments, helping usher the entire ensemble, choir and orchestra included under the direction of Julian Wachner, to a meaningful, if necessarily not clearly focused, performance.

Just A Touch of Magic: Puccini's La bohème at the Washington National Opera

2014-11-15T20:56:00.001-05:00

First, I apologize for the long hiatus in posts. I have not had much opportunity to see live opera since being back at Lawrence University in Wisconsin and in Arlington, Virginia. The conclusion of my schooling did offer a few of the previous scholarly posts. Now, however, being in Washington, D.C., more actual reviews will be forthcoming. I will be seeing Beethoven's Missa Solemnis this weekend and will post on that shortly, as well.

In the meantime, a review of Washington National Opera's La bohème at the Kennedy Center. This was my first time at the Kennedy Center opera house and I was surprised how small it is. All in all, that's really not a bad thing, just surprising for such a key performing space in the United States. I will write my own review, but Anne Midgette's November 2 review in the Washington Post was spot on, so I've included a link here: http://www.washingtonpost.com/entertainment/music/at-wno-a-la-boheme-that-gets-the-job-done/2014/11/02/3228d1ee-62b5-11e4-9fdc-d43b053ecb4d_story.html

General information & synopsis: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_bohème

La bohème | Giacomo Puccini

Rodolfo: Saimir Pirgu (Nov. 1, 4, 7, 9m, 12, 15m) / Alexey Dolgov (Nov. 2m, 5, 8, 10, 13, 15e)
Mimì: Corinne Winters* (Nov. 1, 4, 7, 9m, 12, 15m) / Tatiana Monogarova* (Nov. 2m, 5, 8, 10, 13, 15e)
Marcello: John Chest* (Nov. 1, 4, 7, 9m, 12, 15m) / Trevor Scheunemann^ (Nov. 2m, 5, 8, 10, 13, 15e)
Musetta: Alyson Cambridge (Nov. 1, 4, 9m, 12, 15m) / Leah Partridge* (Nov. 2m, 5, 7, 8, 10, 13, 15e)
Colline: Joshua Bloom* (Nov. 1, 4, 7, 9m, 12, 15m) / Musa Ngqungwana* (Nov. 2m, 5, 8, 10, 13, 15e)
Schaunard: Steven LaBrie* (Nov. 1, 4, 7, 9m, 12, 15m) / Christian Bowers** (Nov. 2m, 5, 8, 10, 13, 15e)
Benoit/Alcindoro: Donato DiStefano

Domingo-Cafritz Young Artist Performance: Fri., Nov. 14 at 7:30 p.m. Cast to be announced.

Conductor: Philippe Auguin
New Production by Jo Davies*
Original Stage Direction: Peter Kazaras*
Set Design: Lee Savage*
Costume Design: Jennifer Moeller*
Lighting Design: Bruno Poet*
Choreography: Ben Wright*

* WNO debut
** Current Domingo-Cafritz Young Artist
^ Former Domingo-Cafritz Young Artist

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Note: I attended the production on November 12th and saw the cast members, with no substitutions, listed for that date.

The most notable thing about this production was, without a doubt, the particular atmosphere it fostered, an outcome of both the design and the rapport between the struggling artists. The production has been updated to post-WWI circumstances, appropriate for the centennial of the war that has been so poignant across the world and particularly in Europe. Nevertheless, La bohème is perhaps not an opera that offers a great deal to work with in the way of up-to-date social commentary and these updates are not heavy-handed, with only the costuming, French and American flags in the Quartier Latin, and Colline's war wound to tell the tale. Otherwise, the crowd scenery and the clothing of the Principals adhered closely to the common washed out palette of the dissolute. The only place this seemed truly out of place was the dancing and choreography generally and throughout "Quando m'en vo" in Café Momus, which felt almost kitschy in it's 1920s tableau.

Importantly, however, pops of color helped to liven the scenes and make it clear that, while the poor are struggling in Paris (whether in 1830 or post-WWI), they are still having a great time with what they have. Also strong was the transition into this crowd-scene, instantaneous and magical, and the Act III snow-and-cherry-blossm scene outside the tavern. Midgette for the Washington Post praised both but felt the latter heavy-handed, metaphorically; I would suggest the magic of falling snow and the soul-touching feeling of the cherry blossoms falling fits with D.C. and the story and, in an opera that is itself emotionally heavy-handed, fit just fine. It is also reminiscent, for those who know, of a similar scene in Yimou Zhang's Hero.

Midgette also comments on the rapport between the artists in Act IV, suggesting it is less trained and out-of-the-moment than it often feels, given that we all know death is just around the door for Mimì. While this is unusually effective, the rapport of the bohemians is so boisterous throughout it almost undermines the bohemian atmosphere itself, and overshadows the somewhat lackluster love affairs of the four principals. While that rapport is important, a somewhat more realistic take that combines poverty, joy in the small things/rapport, and love might have been more effective overall. Nevertheless, the support from Joshua Bloom, Steven LaBrie, and even as the outsider Donato DiStefano was superb both in voice and acting, and left us, as often, wishing we got to hear more from these roles in a star-vehicle piece.

Alyson Cambridge provided a coquettish Musetta, singing with unreserved robustness. Her vocal flagrancy and freedom in the upper range, combined with her magnetic stage presence helped her command her significant time on stage during Act II. This carried into Acts III and IV surprisingly well, lending credence to her conviction to break with Marcello and especially her caring but no less decisive actions to aid Mimì. If this had a drawback, it was in that it was unclear what truly drew her to Marcello. For his part, John Chest seemed the strongest member of the cast. Though his voice was a bit small for the part, particularly in comparison to the other three principals, its rich warmth fit the painter's demeanor as a happy-go-lucky yet sensitive bohemian, lending credence to his interaction with his friends and both his love for and anger at Musetta. A solid presence as an actor helped with this and outweighed even the moments he clearly struggled to keep up with the others in volume.

Corinne Winters brought an interesting mix to the pivotal role of Mimì, with the warmth, depth, and chocolate tones of a more dramatic voice than hers actually is, at least at this point. Though she matched Pirgu fine in volume and managed with no problem over the orchestra, the voice was surprisingly small compared with this tone quality. That said, the entire role was secure and well sung. Where Winters' performance fell flat, though, was in an interpretation of Mimì that seemed almost entirely without spine. Admittedly, the character is sick and eventually dying, but throughout it was hard to believe she loved Rodolfo, wanted to go out, wanted to stay in, was angry with him, wanted to break up with him, wanted to return to him, etc. Saimir Pirgu, another headliner for this cast, did not help in fostering this chemistry, leaving the love between the two, and the central plot line of the opera, flat. He too fit his role as a member of the group of bohemian fellows quite well, but was only occasionally romantic. Vocally, he was surprisingly inconsistent. The middle and lower range was almost always robust, ringing, and, like Winters, almost Spinto-like in quality. But as he ascended into the passaggio he sometimes maintained an impressive transition and at others sounded a bit thin and strained. His top certainly sounded more like that of a Domingo or Bergonzi, there but not wholly pleasing, compared with freer, more lyric voices.

Perhaps inconsistency was the mark of the evening. In her title, Midgette describes this La bohème as one that "gets the job done," and it does. There were tremendous high points, such as the Act III quartet between the lovers, backed by the beautiful set and tremendous orchestral sensitivity. The end of the piece, as always, was touching and Puccini's superb music guided all the lovers back into their rightful emotional places. The transition into Act II helped set the tone that it was truly La bohème. Indeed, Philippe Augin guided the ensemble with a reliably sure and sensitive hand. Yet both the emotions and the singing weaved in and out, particularly for the leading couple. For an upcoming-holiday treat, it was an excellent show that touches on the magic fabric Puccini wove but doesn't quite enchantingly embody it.

Echo: Castrato Virtuosity Recaptured

2014-03-11T01:25:00.000-04:00

Echo: Castrato Virtuosity Recaptured

Silviu Purcarete’s 2012 Production of Leonardo Vinci’s Artaserse

Every opera performance occurs in a unique historical and cultural context. Despite this, it is possible for a performance to honor the spirit of the work’s era while effectively imparting that spirit to an audience of a different time.[1] Leonardo Vinci’s Artaserse, a setting of Pietro Metastasio’s popular libretto, however, offers particular challenges for modern audiences. A dramma per musica, its musical conventions and betrayal plot were designed to highlight the effusive virtuosity of the five castrati (and one tenor), playing both male and female characters, in the cast of the 1730 premiere.[2] Despite their high vocal range and emasculate characteristics, castrati were perceived more as otherworldly or inhuman than effeminate due to their enormous proportions and mastery of singing that went beyond singers of “normal” fächer.[3] Without access to castrati, modern reproductions risk losing the opera’s existential core, the music’s inhuman castrato virtuosity. Silviu Purcarete’s 2012 production at Opéra National de Lorraine, boasting a cast of five countertenors and one tenor, parries this hazard. Clever casting ties characterization to vocal timbre rather than vocal range, presenting gender trait stereotypes in both male and female characters to create the perception of a genderless, virtuosic voice capable of almost inhuman versatility. Supporting this, exaggerated costuming technically assigns character gender, nevertheless accentuates blurred gender characterization, and is itself virtuosic. Finally, Verfremdungseffekt forces these countertenors-as-castrati into the showcase of the theatre through revealed performativity.[4] The Purcarete production captures the soul of Vinci’s Artaserse, offering audiences an echo of the otherworldly castrati virtuosity that in 1730 evoked such awe, while questioning the hunger, then and now, for that virtuosity.

While in mounting Artaserse several accepted methods of handling castrati roles are available, the selection not only of countertenors but of the particular countertenors in the Purcarete production undermines reactive gender biases, emphasizing the virtuosic experience of the castrato performance. Standard practices reviving castrati roles utilize either women, tenors, or countertenors.[5] Purcarete’s decision to use countertenors automatically reflects the castrato experience of the premiere, with five men singing in female range regardless of their character gender. To obviate modern perceptions of countertenor effeminacy due to range or timbre, casting emphasizes the dichotomy of a robust, ringing voice and a sweeter, softer voice. This spreads stereotypical gender traits of aggressive masculinity or weak femininity across both male and female characters, leaving costuming to definitively determine their character gender and emphasizing instead countertenors performing virtuosically across a huge dramatic palette, just as the castrati did.

Both the eponymous Artaserse and his best friend Arbace are male characters, played by men, with vocal lines in the typically female range. Comparing just their first arias, however, reveals starkly different countertenor voices that augment dramatic context, tempo, and aria flavor to support characterization. Franco Fagioli’s rich, woody voice is immediately thrown into rapid-fire coloratura in the renowned bravura aria “Fra cento affani,” staged with him holding a sword (13:40-17:12).[6] Fagioli even dips into the chest-voice portion of his range in order to demonstrate Arbace’s exasperated conviction against his father’s cruel act of murder. The slower B section of the aria emphasizes this throatiness further, allowing the tone to expand before throwing Fagioli back to the presto da capo. Fagioli’s dark timbre thus amplifies the aria’s heroic, stereotypically masculine tone, honorably raging through highly ornamented coloratura against a family member. Artaserse’s first aria, by contrast, is a stereotypically feminine declaration of love for Semira. Philippe Jaroussky’s silvery voice lacks the thrust and apparent size of Fagioli’s but virtually floats through the andante “Per pietà, bell'idol mio,” ornamented by sweet trills and pianissimi instead of rending sixteenth note runs (25:42-30:57). Jaroussky’s voice, light and angelic, characterizes Artaserse as a naïve new king who would prefer to pursue his love of Semira but must (at first incompetently, resulting in the death of an innocent) cope with the burden of a kingship surrounded by disloyal enemies.

A survey of the leads’ remaining arias reveals the development of this vocal characterization throughout the opera. Arbace’s “Vo solcando un mar crudele” (1:09:20-1:16:32), also presto and invested by Fagioli with the greatest coloratura virtuosity in the opera, represents a peak of his heroic strength. His later arias, “Mi scacci sdegnato!” (1:23:30-1:30:30), “Per quel paterno amplesso” (2:04:29-2:10:28), and “Perché tarda è mai la morte” (2:29:35-2:32:36) slow from andante to tempo giusto to grave e staccato as he clings to his honor but becomes increasingly helpless. Conversely, Artaserse’s “Deh respirar lasciatemi" (49:00-53:25), “Rendimi il caro amico” (1:17:43-1:21:33), and “Non conosco in tal momento” (2:20:53-2:24:54) increase in speed from moderato to allegro to an allegro with more coloratura as he affirms his faith in Arbace, gaining kingly decisiveness by freeing his friend. When they are reunited with back-to-back arias, Arbace’s andante “L’onda dal mar divisa” (2:34:30-2:40:25) is slower than Artaserse’s allegro "Nuvoletta opposta al sole” (2:41:11-2:43:55) but both arias are immensely virtuosic, employing lengthy melismatic passages. Arbace has not declined; rather, he has endured captivity and condemnation without abdicating morality. Meanwhile, Artaserse has risen to become a capable king of both morals and strength. As these developments occur, a softer, sweeter, more stereotypically effeminate voice demonstrates both naïveté and strength and a stronger, darker, more stereotypically masculine voice demonstrates both heroism and helplessness. Both voices relate more distinctly to character development than to gender by executing virtuosity in both controlled, sweet arias and raging torrents of song.

The rest of the countertenor cast also supports this strategy of tying voices to characterization rather than gender, in this case across a range of different static rather than similar dynamic characters. Both women’s first arias mourn parting with their lovers. Max Emanuel Cencic’s balanced, brightly virile voice fits Mandane’s first allegro aria “Conservati fedele,” (10:32-12:38), a secure, almost masculine affirmation of love for Arbace. Valer Barna-Sabadus’ lighter voice, ranging from slightly smokier than Jaroussky in the low range to pristinely flute-like in higher registers, fits Semira, a character frequently put in a weak, stereotypically feminine position. Her first aria "Bramar di perdere troppo affetto" (37:09-41:42) is essentially a controlled, andante lament of Artaserse’s absence. When Semira learns of Arbace’s perceived betrayal, she responds meekly, asking for proof of innocence in the allegro “Torna innocente e poi,” (58:17-1:03:17). In contrast, Mandane explodes in the presto torrent, “Dimmi che un empio sei,” (1:04:49-1:07:21) going to the extreme of declaring her former lover an enemy. Only Semira’s presto coloratura aria “Se del fiume altera l'onda” (1:53:20-1:57:26) appears to possess more verve in one dramatic moment than Mandane’s preceding aria, in tempo giusto, “Se d’un amor tiranno” (1:45:20-1:52:24). Barna-Sabadus’ softer voice, however, belies Semira’s sense of confusion, while Cencic’s more robust tone supports Mandane’s driven sadness at her lover’s perceived betrayal. In their final back to back appearances, Cencic’s voice possesses a piercing, crystalline quality that heightens the sharp floridity of Mandane’s second passionate, presto outburst, “Va’ tra le selve ircane,” (2:11:35-2:14:01), which contrasts with Semira’s allegretto “Per quell'affetto” (2:14:36-2:19:55), which is also accusatory, but lacks the same causticness, a difference emphasized by the difference in timbre. Megabise’s two declarations of lust for Semira, the allegro tour de force “Sogna il guerriere le schiere” (33:36-36:17), marked by martial rhythms and predatory imagery, and the allegro, “Non temer ch’io mai ti dica” (1:38:53-1:43:15), as well as his violent support in the presto “Ardito ti renda” (2:45:30-2:48:40) of Artabano’s plan to poison, Artaserse are augmented by Yuriy Mynenko’s slavically dark voice, the most bitingly steely of the cast. Thus, of these three countertenor roles, the parallel characters Mandane and Semira are both women played by men but demonstrate masculine and feminine traits based on vocal timbre. Meanwhile, Megabise is played by the steeliest, darkest countertenor voice, highlighting violent masculinity despite high range.

The casting decisions do not attempt to subvert stereotypes of gendered characteristics. Rather, they manipulate those stereotypes to subvert the inherent gendering of the countertenor voice, instead showing that voice as capable of portraying both male and female characters embodying a wide range of gender traits that both conform to and flout character gender. Hence, like castrati, countertenor becomes a voice type disassociated from a particular gender and defined by its capability for the virtuosity Vinci’s Artaserse demands.

The costuming of the Purcarete production visually aids the primacy of versatile, gender-neutral virtuosity, defining character gender but supporting cross-gender characterization. It channels period dress but makes that dress itself virtuosic. Throughout the opera the ensemble of hoopskirts and rigid bodices worn by both Mandane and Semira define them as women, relying, like the castrati, on external costuming to define character gender rather than gendered characteristics inherent to the voice or body. Additionally, the similarity of the costumes illustrates that, dramaturgically, the two mirror each other, static, if very different, characters in love with men of power. In Acts I and III the nuanced difference in feather headdresses, Mandane with two “wings” and Semira with a single “mohawk,” helps further align the characters while subtly differentiating them. Costume color builds on these differences. Semira’s Act I outfit is pure white, representing her stereotypically feminine position as a helpless, indecisive reactionary to the actions of Artaserse and Arbace and her sexual objectification by Artabano and Megabise. In contrast, Mandane’s outfit is a greyish-black, representative of Mandane’s more stereotypically masculine declaration of love for Arbace and bellicose reaction to his perceived betrayal. In Act II the two women’s columnar hairdos mirror even more completely, highlighting Semira’s seaweed colored dress against Mandane’s fiery red, reflecting Semira’s confused reaction to events compared to Mandane’s resolute conviction. Finally, in Act III, with the return of the headdresses and feathery skirts, Semira returns to her white dress, anointed with gold. Meanwhile, Mandane’s costume is white and blood red. Semira’s garb befits the anointed wife of a king while Mandane’s befits the fierce lover of a warrior who saves the life of his best friend and ruler. Hence, though costuming confirms both characters’ womanhood, it tracks with the casting in highlighting both masculine and feminine characteristics. Additionally, the costuming of the female characters in the Purcarete Artaserse, full of enormous outfits in bright colors with huge hairdos and feathered headdresses, is itself virtuosically over the top, heightening the perception of the countertenor voice’s function, like that of the castrato voice, as an inhumanly virtuosic entity supported by the drama.

Costuming for the opera’s male characters similarly defines their gender, represents their dramatic function, and is intrinsically virtuosic. For the men, Act II serves as the keystone in a sartorial palindrome in which the male characters’ appearances move from divergence to convergence and back again, separating the dynamic heroes from the static villains.[7] Arbace begins the opera in Act I wearing ashen floor-length robes that seem fitting for a courtier, sartorially masculine and richly clothed but not overly appointed. At the opera’s close, Arbace once again dons the same outfit, but in gold. He has progressed sartorially, as he has vocally, from a man tied to a murder at the beginning to a true, honorable friend who endured captivity and saved the king. Nevertheless, the bulbous shoulders, slimming robes, and outrageously tall hat reflect the over-the-top nature of the costume scheme, emphasizing otherworldly virtuosity. Artaserse’s Act I costumes, a white shift reminiscent of women’s Victorian undergarments and a goth outfit with a blade-like black mohawk and spiked pauldrons, represent his indecisive, stereotypically effeminate naïveté and the unjustly cruel violence it inflicts upon Dario. When he returns in Act III he is clothed ostentatiously in a white-feathered shawl that incorporates the mink so iconic of royalty and the largest headdress (among many large headdresses) in the opera, sporting gold crown and enormous black feathers. This costuming captures Artaserse growth into a capable, autonomous king, which reflects the interaction between Jaroussky’s voice and the role while itself reaching the pinnacle of visual virtuosity. By contrast, in Acts I and III the two villains wear only their dark or metallic colored, viciously predatory outfits. Artabano’s horned helment channels a bull or minotaur and Megabise’s feathered pauldrons a bird of prey. Only as Artabano must confess his guilt and Megabise returns from the dead in the victorious final chorus, “Giusto re, la Persia adora” do their costumes change, with Artabano’s pauldrons turned from black to white and Megabise in a golden breastplate. Hence, their costuming, like their timbres, represents their static villainy until the heroes force their repentance. Their costumes remain in scheme, however, virtuosically representing villainy through clothing that goes far beyond staid period accuracy.

The Act II costume of white coat, stockings, shoes, and wig worn by all four male characters represents a turning point as Arbace and Artaserse develop and Artabano and Megabise do not. Arbace is the first to don the outfit in Act I, scene xiv, losing the wig and neckpiece almost immediately as he despairs his disgrace. Meanwhile, because Artaserse remains in full regalia, his power over Arbace is clear. Once he also loses the wig at the end of Act II as he reels from the pain of condemning his best friend, the two have been reunited in sympathetic friendship. Indeed, at the opening of Act III during the rescue we see them clothed the same, as equals, before Artaserse offers Arbace his golden robes, restoring him with an upgrade that matches Artaserse’s own glorious clothing in the finale. By comparison, the villains spend all of Act II in the full regalia, with Megabise changing only for his resurrection in the finale and Artabano changing only halfway through Act III. These static villains are stuck in the rubric of the Act II outfits, continuing in them long after the heroes have begun to shed the scheme. This juxtaposition emphasizes in one act the development, or lack thereof, of four characters representing a huge range of masculine and feminine traits while clothing them in masculine attire matching their character gender. Meanwhile, the pompous ostentation of the outfits, which channel Le Grand Siècle and Louis XIV, go even further, giving “cat ears” to the wigs and representing the virtuosic opulence of that period.[8]

Whether for male or female characters, the effect of the exaggerated costuming in the Purcarete production of Artaserse mirrors the effect of the casting, showing an enormous palette of characterization that, by blending stereotypical gender traits across character genders in keeping with castrati capabilities, emphasizes the virtuosity of the performers.

Lastly, the Purcarete Artaserse employs Verfremdungseffekt, putting these cleverly cast and clothed countertenors on display. This showcases their virtuosity so we may gaze upon it like voyeuristic observers watching an exotic animal in a cage.[9] The abstract set, with black turntable, Vitruvian Man-inspired backdrop, and sliding panels pointedly eschews period style, other than the clever pun. Instead, it is a space dominated by gaudy makeup tables downstage and clearly visible lights and other “theatre parts” backstage. Inhabiting the space are the “stagehands,” wearing backstage “blacks” and headsets but with faces painted white, matching the performers. This clear peeling back of the theatrical guise supports the Verfremdungseffekt principle of forcing audiences to be aware that they are witnessing theatre-making and not suspend disbelief by buying into the world of the drama. When the performers enter this world for the first time during the sinfonia, they are visible to the audience as costuming is donned, makeup is touched up, and collegial words are exchanged. This Verfremdungseffekt tactic supports gender-versatile virtuosity established by casting and costuming by displaying it, but simultaneously reveals the dark truth that in the ogled display-case of the theatre, the castrati were forced into the limelight precisely because of their fascinating inhumanness.

The Act I, scene xiv aria “Vo solcando un mar crudele,” sung by the primo uomo Arbace, is probably the opera’s showpiece and is the peak of the Verfremdungseffekt technique. A virtuosic “storm-at-sea simile aria” supported by raging strings that paint the stormy text and undergird the coloratura vocal line, it goes beyond Arbace’s diegetically patient disconsolation and hope to escape from condemnation, representing the virtuoso’s patient performing of his gift and hope he can escape from scrutiny.[10] Before the first A section of the ABCAB aria, Fagioli throws off his black cloak with vitality, accepting the attendants’ proffered wig and makeup assistance. After singing the entire text of the A section of the AB poem, even supporting it by fluttering his hands to represent waves and incorporating pseudo-Baroque acting gestures, he haughtily flips his jacket, thinking his job is done and heading upstage. The attendants bar his attempted escape, with one returning him downstage. When he sings the aria’s B section, a more virtuosic setting of the A text, his gestures also increase. He once again attempts to escape upstage, hoping he has fulfilled his duty but more attendants stop him, two returning him downstage where he sinks to his knees and sings the C section of the aria, which corresponds to the poem’s B section text, the most dejected. He ornaments the final cadence of this B section, creating a cadenza of enormous range worthy of an aria’s final cadence. Hoping this is sufficient but not trusting the attendants, he attempts to slyly escape stage right and is captured once more. Before beginning the A section of the da capo, he gestures to the attendants with both hands up, as though saying, “alright, once more.” This time, his ornamentation is exceptionally florid while his gestures become increasingly erratic, if still Baroque-like. In his final escape attempt, he throws off the wig, a clear gesture of finality. Still, the attendants capture him as he almost collapses, a virtuoso nearly spent. For the final B section, the most highly ornamented of the performance, they offer their arms to support him as he sings, helping him contain his even more erratic gestures and supporting him when he again almost collapses backwards. He even gestures to one attendant to return her arm to him, knowing he relies on them at this point. For the final cadenza, he tears off his neckpiece before soaring to a show-stopping C#5 in an ultimate show of finality. The audience roars and, their appetites satiated too, the attendants allow him to collapse back into their arms as they shower him with gold.

There is fame and adoration with acclaimed virtuosity. Like Fagioli at the beginning of the aria, many of the castrati appreciated this as much or more than modern performers.[11] The performance expectations virtuosity creates can also be an immense, exhausting weight, however, requiring consistent and even increasing feats to gratify listeners. Purcarete’s use of Vermfremdungseffekt throughout Artaserse puts virtuosity on display, highlighting it like the casting and costuming but also raising the question of its price. Indeed, no greater price can be levied than genital mutilation in pursuit of virtuosity.[12]

In 1730 Italy when Vinci’s Artaserse premiered, the castrato voice was admired for its sweet control, lightning coloratura, and unusual timbre, which in combination constituted inhuman, otherworldly virtuosity. Capturing the essence of Artaserse outside of the 18^th century castrato-influenced context produces challenges. Silviu Purcarete’s 2012 production of Artaserse attempts to honor the centrality of castrato capabilities. Careful casting of five very specific countertenor voices with distinct timbres reflects the versatile, gender unspecific virtuosity of the castrati. Costuming, meanwhile, helps technically define character gender while visually reinforcing the versatility shown by the casting. Combined, these tactics create the perception that the countertenor voice, like the castrato voice, is less a feminine voice from a male body and more an otherworldly voice capable of singing across a huge range of both male and female characters. Taking these countertenor voices and putting them flagrantly on display through Verfremdungseffekt, the sense that the very purpose of these performances is virtuosity itself becomes even clearer. Simultaneously, however, the price of this exacting voyeurism that demands so much from these virtuosos is also revealed. Purcarete’s Artaserse pursues an echo of the 1730 experience of castrato virtuosity, but also warns of the dark cost of that seductive echo.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Bergeron, Katherine. “The Castrato as History.” Cambridge Opera Journal 8 (Summer 1996): 167-184.

Carlin, Francis. “Artaserse, Opéra national de Lorraine, Nancy.” Financial Times, November 6, 2012, http://www.ft.com/cms/s/2/3995611c-2807-11e2-afd2-00144feabdc0.html#axzz2uPeNNilD.

Dame, Joke. “Unveiled Voices: Sexual Difference and the Castrato.” In Queering the Pitch: The New Gay and Lesbian Musicology, edited by Philip Brett, Elizabeth Wood, and Gary C. Thomas, 139-153. New York: Routledge, 1994.

Feldman, Martha. Opera and Sovereignty: Transforming Myths in Eighteenth-Century Italy. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2007.

Markstrom, Kurt Sven. The Operas of Leonardo Vinci, Napoletano. OPERA Series 2. Hillsdale: Pendragon Press, 2005.

Schafer, Elizabeth. “The male gaze in Woyzeck: re-presenting Marie and madness.” In Madness in Drama, edited by James Redmond, 55-63. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993.

Taruskin, Richard. “The Limits of Authenticity: A Contribution.” In Text and Act, edited by Richard Taruskin, 67-82. New York: Oxford University Press, 1995.

Troy, Timothy X. “Brecht: The Life of Galileo.” Freshman Studies Lecture, Freshman Studies Lecture Series from Lawrence University, Appleton, 18 September 2013.

All score references and markings taken from IMSLP.org at the links listed below:

http://conquest.imslp.info/files/imglnks/usimg/8/89/IMSLP87149-PMLP62065-Vinci_Artaserse_Act1.pdf

http://javanese.imslp.info/files/imglnks/usimg/1/13/IMSLP87150-PMLP62065-Vinci_Artaserse_Act2.pdf

http://conquest.imslp.info/files/imglnks/usimg/c/c2/IMSLP87151-PMLP62065-Vinci_Artaserse_Act3.pdf

All timings taken from now deprecated YouTube videos. At time of submission “Vo solcando un mar crudele” is available at this link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rXmF6h3Yd_A

[1] Taruskin, 78-81.

[2] Though the premiere was primarily adhering to the Roman edict that forbade women from performing, it only offered greater opportunity for presentation of castrato virtuosity. Feldman, 5-11, 248-249.

[3] Dame, 142-144.

[4] “Alienation effect,” a theory devised by Bertolt Brecht. Troy, “Brecht: The Life of Galileo.”

[5] Dame, 148-151.

[6] Feldman, 253.

[7] Carlin, “Artaserse, Opéra national de Lorraine, Nancy.”

[8] Ibid.

[9] Schafer, 55-56.

[10] Markstrom, 309-314.

[11] Bergeron, 167-170.

[12] Ibid., 170-174.

Timely Intensity: Glass' Satyagraha at the English National Opera

2013-12-29T22:44:00.002-05:00

Though I am familiar with Philip Glass' musical style and his immense impact on the world of opera and classical music at large, I have never viewed or attended a performance of one of his operas and was quite excited to do so. This production is shared by several opera houses, including the Metropolitan Opera, and is quite excellent. While I thought some of the typical Glass musical elements could have been pushed even a bit further here, the performance was quite good and, of course, mesmeric. This performance was given the day after the death of Nelson Mandela. Someone took the stage before the performance began and lead a one minute (really two minutes) standing period moment of silence. The trifecta of Gandhi on stage singing, Martin Luther King on stage acting, and Mandela in our minds was reflectively poignant.

General information & synopsis: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Satyagraha_(opera)

Orchestra and Chorus of, and actors for, the English National Opera
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In lieu of my usual method of reviewing a production and its principal singers, comprimario performers, ensemble, conductor, etc. individually, I will review this production in strict chronological order following my notes. To break it down in the normal way seems to impose too much of the wrong kind of order onto Glass' music! It will also be in past tense and more personal, though I've been trying to write reviews in present tense, even if the show is no longer running. My first basic observation was that the set, with newspapers, so essential to the bloodless revolution in India, scattered over the floor floor and the broad, corrugated arc around back with doors set into it were very fitting for the show. It set the action firmly within a nebulous space, leaving it open with few set pieces or props but still giving it definition. The broad arc behind helped to create a sense of holiness or sanctity to the piece.

During Act I things started off a bit slow in the field of justice. I think perhaps I was not yet adjusted to the Glass music, after having seen Puccini, Wagner, and Mozart just previously. Still, I was left with the sense that perhaps things could have started off with a bit more of a push, theatrically, as even the clothing and set were a bit bland (though wisely period accurate for the former and abstract for the latter). During Act I, scene i I was curious if Alan Oke (Gandhi) was off a bit musically as, in duets, he seemed to disagree with the duet partner. I do not know the piece well enough, however, to say for sure. I found the Tolstoy farm, scene ii to be a minor improvement in terms of interest. It was not until scene iii, though, the Satyagrahi vow, that I found the production to take off. At this point it became incredibly rhapsodic, with the Satyagrahi raising hands just before the sudden cutoff in Glass' music. With everyone ringed around the half-circle backdrop of the set, the effect was mesmeric and chilling, yet still heart-warming. I walked away from the performance most impressed by this scene as the original music, the production, the directing, and the performances on stage truly brought me into a ritual and made me feel as though I were a part of it.

In Act II the opening confrontation and rescue scene was exciting, with fascinating puppetry that, I believe, represents the overlords against whom Gandhi and the Satyagrahi were protesting. The rescue scene, also, held the appropriate sympathy. Alan Oke played the long periods of silence for Gandhi superbly, still drawing the eye and managing to exude a sense of historical accuracy mixed with dramatic pathos. As Mrs. Alexander Sarah Pring seemed to lose the thread of the music for a time, very obviously looking continually at the conductor, but again, not knowing the work well enough I would not comment definitively.

In scene ii the use of newspapers of varying lengths helped to continue the abstract yet affecting atmosphere of the production. The passing of short newspapers between Satyagrahi represented the actual creation, while long uncut sheets waving about before attaching to the side of the stage and finally migrating onto Gandhi himself served as a subtle but important commentary on Gandhi's importance to the movement. As they writhed around on the chorus members, a sense of the unity of the movement was also expressed. Finally, in the third scene the protest, the pace of the introduction of abstract concepts increased, effectively creating a climax for the act. The combination of increased use of light (including candlelight) and earth imagery as well as a woman on the fly system helped to give visual expression to the dichotomy in the music between cello obbligato. The entire scene has a sense of increasing pressure, a hallmark of Glass, if rarely expressed in those words. Finally, a pyre at the end brought this to a climax with Krishna's appearance and Gandhi and his attendees focused on the fire in the center of the stage.

Act III begins with its long quintet. With everyone facing the proscenium it once again felt like perhaps the theatricality could have spiced up the music. Given that the characters are on a long march, however, it is perhaps appropriate both for the music and the staging to represent this. As tape winds back and forth, iridescent and gossamer, behind and between the characters onstage before becoming an entangle web, however, the beauty is in the "set" itself, regardless of how interesting the characters, still producing the music, are. Representatively, we see the web of factors getting tighter, leading to the ultimate outcome in India. At the very end Martin Luther King is pontificating facing away and Gandhi is singing while other aspects, such as a suspended woman and the set pieces breaking away to offer an increasingly bright cloudy sky. This helps to once again juxtapose the stasis of Glass' music with actions onstage, before both collide. This scene, in particular, had resonance with Mandela's death.

The above is, admittedly, a somewhat rambling description of my thoughts on the staging and the production as a whole. As for the musicianship and acting, the cast was generally stellar, with perhaps a few musical slip ups. Most centrally, Alan Oke's acting superbly embodies Gandhi while still playing to the abstract rhapsody of Glass' music, enhanced by the production. Perhaps my only musical complaint, inspired by a comment I heard while leaving the theatre, was that the orchestra built up neither as convincingly nor with as much bass as they might have in the last act, something essential to bring Glass' style to fruition. Stuart Stratford's conducting is certainly generally quite good, but this scene, one of the most essential, felt a bit wanting in intensity.

Satyagraha is a difficult opera to tackle conceptually, to perform onstage, and, I'm finding, to review. Phelim McDermott's production is truly mind-blowing. It is so ideally suited to Glass' music and to Satyagraha specifically that I find it hard to conceive of a different production (inexperienced as I am with the opera). Though there were moments that seemed a bit dull, the performers in English National Opera's revival took full advantage of this to create a production that had rhapsodically beautiful moments, made all the more moving by current events.

Simple Comedy: Mozart's Die Zauberflöte at the English National Opera

2013-12-29T14:59:00.000-05:00

I often go into a performance of Mozart's Die Zauberflöte somewhat reluctantly, feeling that it's hard to get beyond the lighthearted music and the bizarre storyline to something with any meaning. There is nothing wrong with just having fun, of course, but it often feels to me that the strange mix of morality, unusual atmosphere, and conflict undermines the comedy of Flute while the comedy undermines its seriousness. It offers many opportunities for imaginative productions, and of those I've seen this one manages most effectively to create an atmosphere of lighthearted fun, making it enjoyable while eschewing attempts to make a point or interpret the opera's deep bizarreness.

General information & synopsis: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Magic_Flute

Conductor | Gergely Madaras
Assistant Conductor | Andrew Smith
Concert Master | Martin Fitzpatrick
Orchestra and Chorus of, and actors for, the English National Opera
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The set of this production is quite innovative, focusing on a square central platform connected at each corner to cables, allowing it to raise as a rake, a reversed rake, or to be suspended above the stage below it. This offers many different options for various points in the opera and is really quite an ingenious reimagination of the severe rake used in so many modern productions. A second major element of the show is the use of a chalkboard on which things are written, giving an aspect of childishness to everything (appropriate since often Flute is seen as a construct in the imagination of a child).

As a whole, the production is abstract yet eclectic, never focusing on a specific location and certainly not in period dress, but not focusing on a specific abstract theme, either. There is a sense of odd quirkiness that fits Flute very well. Costuming, for instance, combines elements as diverse as the Queen of the Night in a wheelchair, what I've heard described, probably in an unfairly stereotypical fashion, as Balkans gang clothing (track warmups, etc.). Paper "airplanes" held by actors are the birds for Papageno, and later on the principals fly through the air in a true journey through the tests.

Flute, despite being such an absurdist comedy, is an excellent canvas on which to make a point. Clever productions can go very deep because the material is so abstract already and has been accurately likened to an LSD trip. This one eschews such deep interpretation, which often sits at odds with the comedy. For instance, it is unclear what the meaning of the writing, emphasis on books as a projected backdrop, and skeletal spirit children is meant to be. I personally smiled a lot, which I think is great for a performance of Flute. This is just a straight up fun production of the opera that allows the music to do what it does and the actors to play the somewhat ridiculous characters created by Mozart and Schikaneder.

Leading the production as Tamino Ben Johnson offers a mixed performance. Vocally he sounds great beneath his upper break, with an unusually robust sound for Mozart. Above that break, however, the voice becomes a bit white and constricted; this is not generally a problem since Tamino rarely calls for such notes for any period of time, but it is definitely noticeable. Meanwhile, his acting, while quite passable, seems to support the other singers and play off them more than it stands on its own. It does support them very well, however, adding to every scene and making the piece come together.

Roland Wood's Papageno is hard to place. At the outset his voice seems almost unthinkably dark for Papageno. As the production continues, however, either the voice becomes lighter in timbre or the ear adjusts, because the sense of shock and kind of jarringness disappears. His range is quite excellent and the voice is consistent throughout, with one large romanticized melisma reaching up into Rossini and Verdi baritone range. Wood's acting, though, is excellent. His consistently perplexed but convivial and upbeat Papageno is both funny and also the epitome of what, personally, seems to me to "be" Papageno. His chemistry, not only with Papagena but also Pamina, Tamino, and even The Queen of the Night and Sarastro, molds perfectly to his archetypal relationship with each character. Particularly powerful, perhaps surprisingly, was his chemistry with Pamina, nowhere more apparent than in "Bei Männern welche Liebe fühlen."

The voice of Pamina herself, sung by Devon Guthrie, drips with honeyed sweetness. The voice is so pretty that at times its even possible to wish for something with a bit more bite, but, after all, Pamina is a very sweet young character. Guthrie invests her with great pathos, as well, playing the tension between loyalties to mother, father figure, and lover with unusual facility. Her "Ach, ich fühl's, es ist verschwunden" plays the heartstrings, poignantly striking the exact feeling of despair at the thought of losing a lover. Guthrie's portrayal leaves the impression that she is a singer with great potential who will be interesting to hear in a variety of repertoire and roles.

Cornelia Götz, meanwhile, could not be more established in the role of The Queen of the Night, having sung the role almost 1000 times. Her singing is spot on and the acting is very secure, the hallmarks of a performer who has subsumed a role almost into their personality. Her acting is especially powerful as much of it occurred from a wheelchair. While her two show-stopping arias are tossed off with ease, she frequently invests the portrayal with a Romantic or even verismo style that simply does not seem to fit. I personally believe that Romanticism can have a place in Mozart if done well and at the right time, but even during "Der Hölle rache," an aria that could have verismo fervor, Mozart has taken care of that with precise, almost clipped music, which the extra additions undermine. Perhaps this is a decision beyond Götz's control in this production, but it distracts from an otherwise consummate performance.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the cosmic battle, James Creswell's Sarastro really grabs attention. His richly noble voice rings out with almost Wagnerian stentorianism in contrast with the rest of the cast. His tall figure and swept back hair combined with long, slimming costuming give him an air of righteousness and help to clarify the distinction, often unclear even by the end of the opera, that he is the righteous figure, not the Queen of the Night. Creswell's vocality, though, unerringly consistent throughout the performance, is what truly burns his portrayal in the mind and seems to increase the importance of Sarastro as a character, often somewhat forgotten amidst the flashier roles of Tamino, Pamina, the Queen of the Night, and the Papagenen.

The comprimario parts and the ensemble perform admirably, helping to bring together this lighthearted, imaginative production and make the show chug along throughout. Brian Galliford deserves special praise for his portrayal of Monostatos, which combines stereotypical gay traits with the lasciviousness of the character, creating an odd mix (and for those quick to offense, there was no hint suggesting gay folk are inclined to be rapists). Conductor Gergely Madaras leads the orchestra and ensemble well, bringing to life the instantly recognizable music of Die Zauberflöte, particularly remarkable in the overture. If the conducting is somewhat lost in the overall sweep of the production, it is only because that is exactly the way that Mozart's music plays into the theater of the opera. A great outing for the young conductor.

Lastly, most of Simon McBurney's influence on this production can already be inferred from the rest of this review, but a few final words on him and the production. This production aims at exactly the kind of Magic Flute the canon can use right now: something that cuts to the core of the piece's comedy and does not attempt to turn it into a deep philosophical work. We need those philosophical works, too, but Flute has undergone enough of them for now. Sometimes it needs to just stand as a simple comedy. For whatever reason the production, despite its quite complicated set and solid clutch of performers, sometimes feels a bit amateurish. Though that may be the case, perhaps that sense of amateurishness stems simply from the fact that McBurney manages to capture the childish wonder so definitive of Die Zauberflöte.

(Yes, English National Opera, that's a dig at your practice of performing operas in translation!)

Musical Mastery: Wagner's Parsifal at the Royal Opera House

2013-12-28T12:59:00.001-05:00

Besides, of course, Der Ring des Nibelungen, Parsifal likely stands as Wagner's most monumental work. Having seen the full Ring and Tannhäuser in Vienna, I was excited to keep checking things off the very top of the list of Wagnerian operas. The conceptualization of this production was mixed. I have often debated at length how productions that set an opera in a different time period or are abstract (like this one) must not only not distract from the opera, but must do more than just provide an acceptable veneer for an alternate setting. They must truly add something beyond what the production offers in its traditional setting. The concept of this production definitely attempted to do so but lacked the artistic unity to fully succeed. The performances, however, were simply rock-solid and perfectly in the vein demanded by Wagnerian roles.

General information & synopsis: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Parsifal

Kundry/Voice From Above | Angela Denoke

Gurnemanz | René Pape
Amfortas | Gerald Finley
Klingsor | Willard W. White
Titurel | Robert Lloyd

First Knight of the Grail | David Butt Philip

Conductor | Sir Antonio Pappano
Orchestra of the Royal Opera House
Royal Opera Chorus
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The design concept for this production focuses on a platform, containing a box large box that changes between transparent and opaque, creating concentric areas of sterility. The box is the most sterile area, followed by the platform of the order, and finally woods that look unnaturally orderly. In subsequent acts the box changes in style for the ritual and other settings, such as Klingsor's domain. Seeing the three different ways the box is used is pleasantly metaphorical, leaving open for interpretation, for instance, the significance of the second tiny box in Klingsor's domain containing a plant. On a basic level the idea for the production is fascinating. With Amfortas' weakened health (as well as Titurel's), the religious focus of the grail knights and their ritual, as well as the sanctity of the grail, it makes perfect sense to have Amfortas and alternately the living grail contained within the rings of sterility. The changes between opacity and transparency in the box are dramatic and effective and the use of the bed in various ways depending on who was in it and whether it was a literal or representative use are great as a center point for the piece. Finally, at the end of the production, with the sterility broken and trees and detritus across the platform, the symbolism is quite poignant, really bringing home the importance of Parsifal's journey and his relevance to the grail community.

If the production stuck closely to this core vision it could really be quite stunning, but some incidental elements are distracting or insufficiently explained. For instance, frequently throughout the first half of the production projections of mouths are shown, mostly on the box itself, with no clear connection to the themes of the production other than perhaps an unclearly haunting reference to Kundry. The costuming generally falls into this category, as well. Some the costuming on the leads and a handful of others, with its crisp blend of modern, clean lines, robes, and neutral colors, really adds to the sterility concept, but many costumes on lesser grail community members, flowermaidens overly bedecked in flowers or alternately sporting ultramodern sequined tube dresses, and grail knights looking like sailors detract from the production's focus. Most troubling, however, is the interpretation of the grail ritual. The use of a child as the grail is not, in itself, a problem; in this post-Dan Brown era the idea of a living grail is not surprising. The difficulty is the use of the child's blood to revive the dying grail members and the lack of clarity in the intent. Certainly the child does represent Jesus both as a child and later as a grown man at the opera's climax. A lack of clarity of who is doing exactly what in the grail ritual and the purpose of the child leaves the production with a lack of drive. Sometimes ambiguity can be effective, but the dichotomy of using a child to manipulatively prolong the life of the order's leaders vs. more traditionally protecting the grail simply introduced too much uncertainty and makes it hard to see the production as either a thought-provoking reimagining or a more traditionally valued production. Hence, visually the production is stunning and really interesting, the core idea is immensely promising, and opportunities for a message exist, but the execution introduces irreconcilable ambiguity.

Simon O'Neill's Parsifal is rock solid. At first it seems as though his interpretation of the hero might lack direction. It becomes clear, however, that this is merely the blithe innocence of a man wandering through the world until he finds his fate through the grail community. O'Neill's Parsifal never loses this bright-eyed sense of wonder even as the character's increasing strength and righteousness, denigrated only slightly by his physique, grow throughout the show. It takes the full five hours for the true genius to be apparent, but it is there. Though O'Neill moves from note to note in a less sustained fashion than some taste might appreciate, his voice is but not much sustained and acting seems fine. The voice is large enough that he never seems to compete with the orchestra, rising above it easily. Importantly, the high notes are clearly there. Every once and a while a trifle of strain enters in but it's never unpleasant and it's clear that O'Neill is a man in control of a rich, big voice with access to the top of the Wagnerian range. He just seems to "get" Parsifal.

As Kundry, Angela Denoke gave a robust performance in a tough role. Her acting is effective, if sometimes a bit over the top in Kundry's more frenetic, manic moments. Her use of straight tone in these moments is also interesting and reminiscent of Schönbergian sprechgesang. Like O'Neill as Parsifal, Denoke's brilliance becomes increasingly apparent as the production continues and opportunities for nuance accrue. Her singing ranges from soft and seductively Bel Cantoesque at moments with Amfortas and Parsifal to all out and wild at rare times, something emphasized by her costuming (particularly the hair). The voice is extremely solid but unusual in timbre. Though she struggles a bit toward the end, especially in the upper ranges, the performance is evocative and remarkable, especially in such a cripplingly difficult role. Indeed, it is amazing Denoke achieves so much interpretive variety and piercing theatrical insight on top of the demands of merely getting through Kundry's music.

René Pape's Gurnemanz was the unanticipated highlight of the evening. Pape's acting is certainly appreciable, capturing the noble stewardship of Gurnemanz's role in the grail knight community. This acting, however, is borne out by his singing more than anything else. Pape, as Gurnemanz, simply sounds... great. The voice is richly round, somehow inherently embodying nobility. It is also easily, almost casually big enough for the role, and simply feels Wagnerian without departing from a fluid, easy production perhaps more typical of Italianate singing. Every moment Pape sang was a gorgeous one that added something to the production, creating a character (and a performer) completely solid, consistent, and believable, due more to anything else to musical interpretation.

By contrast, in the role of Amfortas, Finley's voice is clearly smaller but injected with a mix of metal and warmth reminiscent of some of the great baritones of former eras (not that there aren't great baritones today, but this sort of tone seems less common or valued). Finley's diction is also incredible, really adding a sense of character to his superbly consistent singing. As an actor, his ability to play the moribundly sick Amfortas is uncannily believable. Though at the end this interpretation goes perhaps a bit far as age and blindness enter into the mix, it definitely provided a clear sense of change in the third act. It is surprising that the Royal Opera House chose to highlight their production with Finley as the superstar. Though O'Neill, Pape, and Denoke are all also titans, probably none of them carry quite the recognition that Finley does. While Finley certainly deserves his fame, he is effective as Amfortas because his moments in the spotlight are powerful but he is often the silent seen or unseen force that drives the rest of the characters, represented through his acting throughout the production.

Willard W. White plays a menacing Klingsor. Both his stalking gait across the stage and his voice, not only deeply richer, but also pleasantly "rougher" than the other characters, create the perfect confidence of a weathered villain. There is the inevitable question of whether his casting, the only black man in the production, is meant to provoke a racial question, whether generally, about Wagner's own perspectives, or somehow else. Personally, I prefer not to worry about it, but it is an unavoidable question, unfortunately. Finally, Robert Lloyd's Titurel both vocally and theatrically serves as an effective counterpoint to Finley's Amfortas, older but less sickly and tougher in personality.

Director Stephen Langridge deserves a great deal of praise and a few words of encouragement for this production. As mentioned, the core concept for the show is really quite superb. Also, the acting for the main characters is outstanding. It really seems that Langridge needs to more effectively rein both his own impulses and those of the singers to make a more streamlined production. The way this might happen for the production is explicated above, and for the actors this would mean simply paring down the most over-the-top, expressive moments. Overall, however, Langridge deserves credit for overseeing such a vibrant production that cuts so rock-solidly to the core of the Parsifal story and supports a superb cast. Indeed, Antonio Pappano leads a great ensemble and does it with great effectiveness. The flowermaidens sing beautifully, the grail knights, including the comprimario singers, carry easily over a well balanced orchestra, and Pappano undergirds the leads with an orchestra soft at some points and ebulliently swelling at others. If there is one flaw in Pappano's leadership it is only that the moments without singing, and the Act I Prelude in particular, capture the heart and soul almost more powerfully than those with singing. Hardly a criticism, at all.

Ravishing Visual Beauty: Puccini's Madama Butterfly at the English National Opera

2013-12-24T23:08:00.000-05:00

Puccini's Madama Butterfly or Madame Butterfly is, unquestionably, one of opera's most beloved tales. In many ways it seems fairly straightforward to produce. The snags come, however, in the way the emotional content must be communicated. The first act culminating in "Vogliatemi, bene," and the opening "Un bel dí vedremo" of the second act must create enough passionate, romantic tension to hold through the entirety of the second act (with the important exception, perhaps, of the revelation of her son) and most of the third act to the point of Pinkerton's return and ultimate betrayal. Most of the actual time of the opera is spent waiting, and unless the anticipation sets up an electric feeling of suspense, that waiting can be very boring.

This review will run in somewhat reverse order - focusing on major characters, then comprimarios, and finally on the production itself.

General information & synopsis: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Madama_Butterfly

Madama Butterfly | Giacomo Puccini

Credits:

Director | Sarah Tipple/Anthony Minghella*
Set Designer | Michael Levine
Costume Designer | Han Feng
Lighting Designer | Peter Mumford
Choreographer | Anita Griffin/Carolyn Choa*
Puppetry | Blind Summit Theatre, Mark Down, Fiona Clift

Performers:
Cio-Cio-San (Madam Butterfly) | Dina Kuznetsova
Suzuki | Pamela Helen Stephen
B.F. Pinkerton | Gwyn Hughes Jones
Sharpless | George von Bergen
Goro | Alun Rhys-Jenkins
Prince Yamadori | Alexander Robin Baker
The Bonze | Mark Richardson
Yakuside | Philip Daggett
Imperial Commissioner | Paul Napier-Burrows
Official Registrar | Roger Begley
Cio-Cio-San's mother | Natalie Herman
Aunt | Judith Douglas
Cousin | Morag Boyle
Kate Pinkerton | Catherine Young
Sorrow (puppetry) | Tom Espiner, Julia Innocenti, Laura Caldow

Conductor | Gianluca Marcianò
Orchestra, Chorus, and Dancers of the English National Opera

*Original production creators

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Dina Kuznetsova leads English National Opera's production of Madam Butterfly, as the English translation of the title puts it, as a cuttingly naïve Butterfly. Her voice possesses exactly the tone one might expect from the Russian-American soprano - pleasantly full with a sense of deepness. Some might prefer a more stereotypically Italianate sound but if Kuznetsova lacks the squillando thrust to drown the orchestra at the biggest moments (such as the end of "Un bel dì vedremo"), the surprising contrast between the dark voice and her interpretation of the character is moving. The singing has an pleasantly unusual amount of Bel Canto artistry to it, as well. Kuznetsova plays toward the naïveté of the character, offering an unusually effective blitheness right up until the very last moments of the opera, interrupted otherwise only by sadness at the end of Act II, Part I. The entrance of Tristeza is somewhat unmoving but the return of Pinkerton is harbour surprisingly emotional yet still naïve, hence, when Butterfly's world finally crashes down in "Con onor muore," the effect is crippling.

In combination, Kuznetsova and Gwyn Hughes Jones perform an evocative "Vogliatemi bene," with Kuznetsova's naïveté helping to sell the sense of true love even if Jones' Pinkerton is very cavalier about the affair in his private interactions with Goro and Sharpless. The emotion he lets loose in the duet, however, helps to make his later bind upon returning to Japan more convincing, alleviating the sometimes-problem of Pinkerton suddenly having a heart when he previously seems merely a villain. For his own part, Jones' Pinkerton often seems to lack chemistry except at key moments (such as the duet). On some level this works, but it does lead to a feeling of disengagement. His generous voice is pleasant, if just touched by nasality, in the lower and middle range. Like Kuznetsova's, though, it is also not stereotypically Italianate. In the middle-top and the top he shows signs of the all too common lirico-spinto strain. This phenomenon creates a not entirely unpleasant sound at the top, but one that lacks the freedom of lighter voices or the most phenomenal spinto tenor voices. Despite, Jones crafts an astounding "Addio, fiorito asil." In this aria that often feels, short, hollow, strained, and emotionally undercharged, Jones infuses a sense anguished remorse that gives him some sympathetic pathos without absolving him of his crimes. These two minutes are some of the most moving in the performance.

While Butterfly and Pinkerton unquestionably star in the opera, Suzuki can make or break those slow period of waiting and Pamela Helen Stephen's appearance in the role is unparalleled. Stephen's voice has the depth of tone demanded of a Puccini mezzo-soprano yet it rings like vibrating crystal. In contrast to Kuznetsova's painfully oblivious Butterfly, Stephen's Suzuki is completely "matter of fact" and almost detached, acting as a foil through her complete, world-weary cognizance of what is going on. As the reality of Suzuki's prophetic weariness becomes clear, Stephen's increasing emotionality helps to demonstrate humanity beyond this restrained matter of factness. George von Bergen's Sharpless is hard to hear, seemingly miscast in a role both too low and too big for his voice. Tonally the singing is fine, but it feels like listening to a someone using only the lower third of their range. As the performance goes on Bergen improves, warming into the role as he dutifully carries out his role in the emotional system enabling Butterfly's fantasies. A somewhat thankless role - both for a performer and as the best friend of Pinkerton!

The supporting cast for the production is solid if (acceptably) flat in their character choices. Alun Rhys-Jenkins serves as a reasonable Goro with a convincingly nasty portrayal, fitted well to Jones' relaxed Pinkerton. Catherine Young's Kate Pinkerton is inoffensive but misses the opportunity to leverage such a small role to force the tragedy one step further. She does, however, play well on the dichotomy between seemingly trying to be helpful but also being patronizing towards Butterfly. This more political side of her performance is indeed thought-provoking.

Despite this potential missed opportunity that might be a directorial issue, it is the direction, musically by conductor Gianluca Marcianò and on-stage by Sarah Tipple and originally Anthony Minghella, that truly stuns in this production. The basis for this is the set by Michael Levine, costumes by Han Feng, and lights by Peter Mumford. I had the opportunity to see this coproduction when it was broadcast by the Metropolitan Opera and it is even more beautiful in person. Yes, the use of people as flowers, Kate's presence at the end, and the strange representative dance at the beginning of Act II, Part 2 were failings, but overall the beauty of the production speaks beautifully to Japanese culture.

It incorporates many of the trappings of Bunraku theatre and connects the opera very clearly to Japan without demeaning its culture in a stereotypical way. The use of the shiny, black raked stage, moving screens, and the dark lighting highlighted by red really sets off the dramatic action and the costuming is powerful, with its use of traditional clothing and representative kimono unraveling on Butterfly. It is a production that is both evocatively deep and stunningly beautiful, masking its abstraction with perfectly fitting environments for each scene. The musical direction was both tasteful and gripping, with the very end of the production in perhaps the slowest tempo ever performed, creating a crushing emotional stasis as Butterfly bleeds out and Pinkerton realizes the horror for which he is responsible.

Beginning

End

Chilling Sterility: Berg's Wozzeck at the Royal Opera House

2013-12-24T01:08:00.000-05:00

Going into Wozzeck I wasn't sure what to expect. I've studied the opera in the abstract in music history courses but I've never seen it live. It was really exciting to finally have the opportunity to see such a seminal, if unusual work. It was great that the Royal Opera House opened up the Ampitheatre level exclusively for students and that it was pretty much completely full of them. This production of Wozzeck was great vocally but even better in its conceptualization and the singer's abilities acting within that context.

Synopsis and general information: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wozzeck

Wozzeck | Alban Berg

Credits:

Director | Keith Warner
Set Designer | Stefanos Lazaridis
Costume Designer | Marie-Jeanne Lecca
Lighting Designer | Rick Fisher

Performers:
Captain | Gerhard Siegel
Wozzeck | Simon Keenlyside
Andres | John Easterlin
Marie | Karita Mattila
Child | Sebastian Wright
Margret | Allison Cook
Doctor | John Tomlinson
Drum Major | Endrik Wottrich
First Apprentice | Jeremy White
Second Apprentice | Grant Doyle
Half-Wit | Robin Tritschler

Conductor | Mark Elder
Orchestra of the Royal Opera House

Royal Opera Chorus

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The set and lighting of the Royal Opera House's production of Wozzeck emphasizes a clinically stark environment. The opera is set entirely in the white box of the Doctor's lab with four vats containing various medical specimens and, in one, simply water. When relevant the bottom left, markedly dark by contrast, contains Marie and the characters who inhabit her world, accessed through a door into the laboratory. The entire production masterfully demonstrates the sterility of Wozzeck's life and highlights the psychological and interpersonal struggles he endures while also taking advantage of the work's somewhat inherent abstraction.

As the Captain and the Doctor respectively Gerhard Siegel and John Tomlinson offer robustly sung character roles, with little hint of the strain often either covered by or created due to the desire for unique characterization. Both sustain the difficult roles vocally while bringing portrayals that felt a bit overacted. At first this is somewhat off-putting but as the opera progresses the genius of this becomes apparent, casting Wozzeck's simple and realistic woe against the over-the-top, laissez-faire lives of his two overlords.

Karita Mattila's acting, perfect for the role, helps accommodate a rich and large but somewhat tired voice that possibly shows the strain of a long career singing big roles. Overall the performance is quite admirable. Her interactions with her son are touching while her interactions with Endrik Wottrich as the Drum Major are both shockingly horrifying and also vividly lustful. Wottrich offers a kind of dark nobility in both his rich singing and tuned acting.

Of course Simon Keenlyside is the star of the show in the title role. His fame is not undeserved. The size and darkness of his voice are surprising given the lighter end of his broad range of repertoire. Of course as Wozzeck those characteristics are fitting and appropriate, bringing out the darkness of the character perhaps more than the naiveté. Despite, Keenlyside's voice feels more like a vehicle for his impressive acting ability than the star attraction of his performance. Granted, Wozzeck is not a role focused on lustrous beauty of tone. As an actor, though, Keenlyside truly shines. His perpetually perplexed look acts as a foil for the character's moments of cutting insight on the human condition and imparts pathos to the character's tragedy despite his murderous actions. Because of exactly this, Keenlyside's emotional departures from this meek baseline are striking when exhibiting what resistance he does to his overlords or, of course, as the opera ramps up to it's psychologically frenetic finale.

Supporting characters aid with this psychological-experiment interpretation, with functional performances that help create the unusual world-within-the-box. Particularly striking among these performances is Allison Cook's disturbingly flirtatious Margret. Also excellently supporting the leads in this performance are the Orchestra of the Royal Opera House and the Royal Opera Chorus under the direction of Mark Elder. Elder wrings everything in Berg's music out of Berg's music. I often feel that atonal, almost atonal, or otherwise experimental 20th century music must be done supremely well in order to achieve its aims. The ensemble under Elder's direction succeeds in this regard and Elder himself helps to emphasize the psychological complexity of the piece through strong interpretive decisions while carefully balancing against the voices of the lead performers onstage. The slick polish of the ensemble as a whole helps the music to infuse the opera with emotion while the acting takes center stage.

Generally direction by Keith Warner is strong. The entire conceptualization of the opera's setting within the sterile laboratory environment works effectively to communicate its many themes of poverty, insanity, disgustingly manipulated sexuality, guilt, etc. Each character's role is pushed to an extreme - the uncaring joviality of the Doctor and the Captian, the false nobility of the Drum Major, the torn sexuality of Marie. Then, contrary to this, Wozzeck's own meekness is transformed, suddenly and violently, into aggressive assertiveness before being crushed in guilt. It was a thought-provoking production. Of course stunning, as well, is the final coup de théâtre. The vat of water, so long visible after a white sheet is pulled off it early on, serves as the "lake," in which Wozzeck drowns while attempting to wash off Marie's blood. Simon Keenlyside's superb acting ability carries off the act with a return to meekness and then total stasis for the ten minutes or so he is submerged (with a breathing tube). After this momentous interpretation of the drowning the child's vague performance lacked the haunting emotional horror the "hop hop" lines can so powerfully impart, marking Warner's only conceptual weakness.

Overall however, the Royal Opera House's production is a strong reimagining of Berg's Wozzeck carried off by excellent design and direction and a superb cast led by the inimitable Simon Keenlyside. This is a wonderfully thought-provoking example of how abstraction can work in opera and actually add something to the original work rather than simply act as a flashy new veneer.

Atmosphere Defeated: Britten's War Requiem at Royal Albert Hall

2013-12-19T03:33:00.000-05:00

War Requiem | Benjamin Britten

Soprano | Sabina Cvilak

Tenor | Allan Clayton (In for the indisposed Andrew Kennedy)

Baritone | Roderick Williams

Conductor | Semyon Bychkov
Off-Stage Conductor | James O'Donnell

BBC Symphony Orchestra & Chorus

Crouch End Festival Chorus

Choristers of Westminster Abbey

General information: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/War_Requiem

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My first exposure to Britten's War Requiem was last spring when Lawrence University's orchestra and choirs mounted a concert for the piece with professional soloists. That experience was particularly moving for me. We put a lot of work into that piece both musically and emotionally, and the result was stunning. Especially touching was the conductor's pause for 30 seconds at the end of the piece in silence. I preface this review with this for two reasons. One, it was wonderful to be able to finally see War Requiem as an audience member, and two, I'm almost certainly biased by my one monolithic performance experience with the piece.

Semyon Bychkov assisted by James O'Donnell, was undoubtedly engaged in the performance. His conducting was decisive and with clear motivation. That said, I personally did not agree with many of the choices regarding tempi and dynamics. As I mentioned, I am probably biased in this regard, but I felt like often the choices either did not go far enough or were in the wrong direction. War Requiem is a work of extremes and pushing those as far as they can go is essential. Still, the BBC Symphony Orchestra responded superbly to Bychkov's baton, dutifully carrying out his direction in the context of a challenging piece of music. While the orchestra was impressive, the choirs, joint forces of the BBC Symphony Chorus and the Crouch End Festival Chorus were the most notable performers of the night. While the conducting and the orchestra were good but lacked the vitality the piece could command, the singers seemed more possessing of that focus. On this choral side, often the boy choir is neglected as almost an afterthought, despite its essential role as a counterpoint to the rest of the work. With the Choristers of Westminster Abbey involved, however, even they were superbly suited to the work and brought great focus and insight.

Sabina Cvilak's soprano voice was fitting to the work in timbre but was impeded by both a lack of staying power and also a seeming lack of engagement. She did sound wonderful throughout the evening but in the most taxing parts of the piece she was completely inaudible and seemed a bit strained. This is often an issue with the War Requiem and there are parts where the soprano may be appropriately drowned out. The issue extended beyond these, however. (Notably, these could also have been balance issues with the orchestra and choir, who are not absolved in the matter.) The more troubling aspect was a sense that Cvilak was singing and just letting the music go. As an oratorio performance it would be inappropriate to have a great deal of emoting, of course, but Cvilak felt somewhat distant.

Tenor Allan Clayton (left) and baritone Roderick Williams (above) gave performances similar to that of Cvilak. There were fewer, though still a handful of, balance issues here, though fewer opportunities for them as well. Both Clayton and Williams have silky, silvery voices with the sort of lustrous ease and clear diction that War Requiem demands. It was a pleasure to hear them sing. Once again, however, there was a sense that they were often a bit detached from the performance. As the soldiers realizing slowly that they fought and died, one killing the other, on the same battlefield, was undermined by this sometimes-detachment from the performance. Hence, while there was great singing all around by the soloists and even more reliable singing form the chorus, failure to push the envelope interpretively by all three soloists and the conductor held this performance back from its full potential, even on the great occasion of Remembrance Day Sunday, from the raw emotional force it is capable of evoking.

Again, I may be biased by my own experience with the piece, which came off as both a great performance and also a superb atmosphere. But the performers may not be entirely to blame in this situation. The audience seemed shifty throughout the performance, coughing very excessively between movements and completely breaking the mood. While they were respectful at the end of the reverence the piece requires, the whole evening just didn't ring with the right communal power. My experience with such long silence as a conductor held the baton high at the end was unusual, but the combination of detached performance and a restive audience really held back what could have been a heart-wrenching evening because truly, on many levels the musical performances were superb.

When They're On: Verdi's Les vêpres siciliennes at the Royal Opera House

2013-11-15T12:17:00.002-05:00

Pictured just above is the promotional graphic for the Royal Opera House's production of Les vêpres siciliennes. It's an odd graphic that tries to get to the production's vision. That vision was a failure. Despite that, the performance I witnessed was phenomenal because of the performers. It was my first chance to see Verdi's rare opera and it was a wonderful one. I definitely want to listen to more recordings and, if possible, see more performances, including the Italian variant, which is more often performed. As a tenor, it was especially exciting, for the first time, to see a tenor in a truly central role who I might describe as, "on."
Synopsis and general information: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Les_vêpres_siciliennes

Les vêpres siciliennes | Giuseppe Verdi

Credits:

Director | Stefan Herheim
Dramaturg | Alexander Meier-Dörzenbach
Set Designer | Philipp Fürhofer
Costume Designer | Gesine Voellm
Lighting Designer | Anders Poll
Choreography | Andre de Jong

Performers:
Helene | Marina Poplavskaya (replaced by Lianna Haroutounian)
Henri | Bryan Hymel
Procida | Erwin Schrott
Guy de Montfort | Michael Volle

Thibault | Neal Cooper

Robert | Jihoon Kim

Le Sire de Béthune | Jean Teitgen

Le Comte de Vaudemont | Jeremy White

Daniéli | Nicolas Darmanin

Ninetta | Michelle Daly

Manifroid | Jung Soo Yun

Conductor | Antonio Pappano
Orchestra of the Royal Opera House

Royal Opera Chorus

_________________________________________________________________________

So I don't usually read program notes but happened to because I was quite early for this performance and had nothing else to do. I learned that the creative team's intention was to, on one level, demonstrate the drama between the characters in the context of French oppression of Sicily, as the plot demands. On another level, however, they wanted to demonstrate the oppression of artists, in an opera house, by patrons and others who can impinge upon the success of art as outside influences. Frankly, this was completely lost on me except for a few moments when it was glaringly obvious. Had I not read the program notes I imagine I never would have been able to catch at what they were getting. Yes, there were times when there were clearly patrons in the balconies of the French opera watching the singers, but there was really no commentary and the few times it did stick out it was a distraction. Still, despite the set thus being largely irrelevant, something about the varying locations, the opera auditorium, the rehearsal spaces with one wall of mirrors and one solid wall, etc., all within the opera house were still beautiful and allowed for a perfectly acceptable setting in which the action could take place. I was surprised by this because usually I feel a period set would have been better when one of these imaginative, somewhat abstract sets doesn't work out. Here it did, however, especially since things such as tables, an executioner's block, etc. were provided where necessary. The costumes were lovely, accentuating each character's demeanor (Henri's uprightness, the casualness of Guy's power, Procida's menace, Helene's innocence, etc.). I really wish I had Procida's boots, I have to say!

Now, director Stefan Herheim, if complicit in this failing grand vision, seemed nonetheless to fundamentally help with the direction of the production as far as the interactions between the leads. Yes, the moment at the end when Procida, dressed in a black facsimile of Helene's white wedding gown kills all of the people before they come back to life did not really seem to fit or make sense and undermined the opera's climax. Still, generally Herheim seemed to grasp the fundamental relationships between the four main characters that truly drive the drama of the opera. If only those instincts would have been left alone rather than incorporated into a bizarre abstract message, there would be only praise for the direction.

Marina Poplavskaya was one of the major attractions of this production. An unusual Verdi opera, rarely performed (especially in the French), his bicentennial, a rising soprano star in the repertoire, etc. Unfortunately she was indisposed for the beginning of the run when I attended. I would have been interested to see her since I've heard a huge range of reviews and that she fares better on the screen than live in the house. Lianna Haroutounian, however, was not a bad replacement by any means, and certainly well respected in the business. This night, however, of the four leads she felt the least compelling. It is true that she demonstrated incredible technical control, with immense finesse, especially in her two arias, "Viens à nous, Dieu tutelaire" and"Merci, jeunes amies." Still, her portrayal, both vocally and in terms of her acting, seemed to lack the dramatic intensity present in those of the male members of the cast. It is entirely possible this was in no small part due to the contrast. While her soft, technical performance might have communicated tenderness, indecision, and thoughtfulness in a character that could be all those things, when compared with the brash singing and acting of the men, it felt out of place and lackluster. In short - a performance that was more and more appreciable as the night went on but that never really grabbed the attention.

Michael Volle as Guy de Montfort also began with a bit of a bump. At the outset as he reached for his upper range a hint of tension was detectable and it seemed we were in for a long night. Within minutes, however, that vanished and he became a star of the evening, with a rich, noble voice that communicated authority without menace or bravado, perfect for a man accustomed to power but fundamentally in the role of the loving father at the point in his life of the opera. It's not a glamorous role. But Michael Volle demonstrated its vital importance. His aria, "Au sein de la puissance" was the most tender, heartfelt epiphany that it truly set him to turn around his character as the evening went on. His duets with Bryan Hymel, also, were striking. By most standards it is hard to really see Guy de Montfort as a good guy. Volle handled this, still demonstrating Guy's bold, even arrogant conduct in dealing with the Sicilians, his son, the traitors, and even the wedding at the end. But his love for his son was so blindingly clear that it was truly possible to believe he was a man changing for the better and acting true to his love in the best way he knew.

If Volle's Guy de Montfort only touched on the hallmarks of occupying tyrant in a brilliantly hollow way, Erwin Schrott as Procida was almost sociopathic in his obsession with freedom, his menacing stalk around the stage, and his steely bass voice. Probably the most impressive characterization of the evening came from Schrott in this role. As he prowled through the opera he exuded an almost casually self-possessed sense of confidence, galvanized by Procida's zealous belief in the cause. From the beginning he was actually a villain, but it was clear that Henri and Helene could not see it though the audience could. This turned the tables brilliantly on the typical relationship with Guy de Montfort, demonstrating how the freedom fighter can be just as much a tyrant. His interaction with his sister were brusque and manipulative, capitulating only when it served the cause and otherwise badgering to get his way through guilt and any other means available. His wrath at Henri's betrayal was that of a true believer looking upon a heretic, and his hate for Guy was unshakeable. Hence, as the opera draws to a close his glee at his success in the massacre is not just the mistaken tragedy of a man fighting against a true tyrant at the wrong time, but of psychopathic obsession overwhelming reconciliation and revealing the true villain of the opera. Schrott's singing, a mixture of razor sharpness and molten steel, beautifully carried out both the most dramatic moments and also the most silver-tongued, snake-like statements. Indeed, his Act II tour de force in his solo sections provided a perfect summation of this brilliant characterization, delivered with inspired singing.

Michael Volle and Erwin Schrott unquestionably helped make this production superb, but it was hard to outshine Bryan Hymel as Henri. Though he himself claims his lyric-spinto tenor voice lacks a typical Italianate sound, I personally found a voice that was not unexpected for this kind of repertoire. What is, perhaps, unique about Hymel is his ability to combine a sense of total vocal freedom with a darker, heftier timbre - really a perfect combination for Verdi. The most affecting element of his performance as Henri was his complete comfort and control in the role. Though not in the laissez-faire style of a leggiero tenor, he easily and thrillingly flung his voice into interpolated high notes throughout the opera, notably in his arias "O jour de peine" and "Le brise souffle au loin" as well as his duet with his father. Henri in some ways is hard to play originally - he's a typical hero torn between his love of country, love of a woman, and love of family (the last is original in the writing, but doesn't changed the hero between different commitments thing). Hymel, though, really seemed to embody this stereotypical sort of character. His hurt when accused of being a traitor (to any of his constituents), his professions of love, his frantic moments of indecision, all were entirely believable. Combined with his thrilling vocals and sense of ease, the performance was simply fantastic.

The rest of the ensemble, the orchestra, and the chorus, all led by Antonio Pappano definitely helped the opera along, allowing the leads to truly shine and drawing out the drama and pathos of Verdi's score. What was so wonderful about the ensemble and the production in this regard is that it all simply worked. Pappano helped make this possible. Hence, when something really important occurred, whether a bit of staging, a vocal moment, or some stunning acting, it really had the opportunity to shine.

The clever, but entirely inaccessible conceptualization for this production, commentating on the slavery of art to the Parisian elite of the 19th century, really had the possibility of lousing up the entire thing. through incredible skill, however, of the costumers and stage designers (even if they were complicit in the production's failing vision) in designing a compelling, beautiful set, of the singers in bringing thrilling performances to bear, and of the ensemble for powerfully setting the atmosphere in which the drama played out. Truly exceptional.

Go Abstract, Just Go All the Way: Beethoven's Fidelio at the English National Opera

2013-10-22T22:37:00.000-04:00

Having seen film versions of Beethoven's Fidelio and seen it live in Vienna in a fairly traditional if not period-specific production I was intrigued by the abstract production being offered at the English National Opera. I have no problem with abstract productions but I do tend to think it is easier to do more traditional productions well, or at least acceptably, whereas the bar is higher for abstract productions. Oddly, therefore, I was surprised to find that this production of Fidelio would have been more pleasing had it actually played on its abstract strengths rather than going to those extremes only at certain moments and falling into complacency between them. This review will be a bit unusual in that I will touch on the performers first before the production, almost in opposite order of my normal order.

Synopsis and general information: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fidelio

Fidelio | Ludwig van Beethoven

Credits:
Director | Calixto Bieito
Set Designer | Rebecca Ringst
Costume Designer | Ingo Krügler
Lighting Designer | Tim Mitchell
Translator | David Pountney

Performers:

Leonore | Emma Bell
Florestan | Bryan Register
Rocco | James Creswell

Don Pizarro | Philip Horst
Marzelline | Sarah Tynan
Jaquino | Adrian Dwyer
Don Fernando | Roland Wood

Conductor | Edward Gardner

Quartet:

Violin | Oliver Heath
Violin | Cerys Jones
Viola | Gary Pomeroy
Cello | Christopher Murray

_________________________________________________________________________

Emma Bell, as Leonore, is of course the focus of the show as her Fidelio goes undercover to rescue Florestan from his political imprisonment. Her background, especially in Baroque and Mozartean roles, is interesting given she also has fairly extensive performance credits building up in Puccini, Verdi, and now Wagner (to which Fidelio is almost like a strange vestigial appendage). Bell's voice was vibrant and resonate. Almost surprisingly, it lacked a tone that spoke openly of squillo, as many voices of her type might. Rather, the voice held a sort of resonant depth. This was fitting for the role of Leonore, giving a sense of resolve, making her disguise as a man plausible, and leaving the climax convincing. Her voice never lost its essentially classical feel, a sort of mellow warmth, which definitely was a contrast to the many Wagnerians who play the role, especially in "Abscheulicher! wo eilst du hin?...Komm, Hoffnung, lass den letzten Stern," which was evocatively sung. As will be discussed, this production dictates a lot of the acting. Still, within the confines of the production Bell might have been able to bring out more warmth, a bit more passion and tenderness. Though she seemed convincingly in character, it was hard to believe strongly in the story of the impassioned wife rescuing her lover because of a lack of love itself. Bell is certainly a performer to bear in mind and the shifts she is making in repertoire may well lead to very impressive performances, so long as she can find some affection!

Stuart Skelton was unfortunately indisposed the night of my performance. He had won some acclaim for his performance in this production and his portrayal of Florestan generally. Bryan Register, who played the character for part of the run, stepped in at the last minute. Register was initially quite thrilling in "Gott! welch' Dunkel hier!"with a large, thrilling tone and secure, easy command of the notes. Immediately, though, this impressive beginning gave way to pushed out high notes and obvious strain under the demands of the difficult role. These plagued Register less later in the opera, but the occasional wobble in the voice became more apparent and lost the pleasing consistency with which it initially began. Register's interactions with Bell were just as cold as Bell's (of course a mutually reinforcing problem). In his role as a prisoner, however, he was much more pleasing, offering real despair and resignation initially and a true renewed wonder and lust for life after his release.

As Rocco, James Creswell offered the most nuanced, consistent, and touching performance of the evening. His velvety baritone voice never showed a hint of strain, always moving easily from note to note and allowing the character to come to the fore, a beautiful factor apparent in "Hat man nicht auch Gold beineben" and throughout. He adeptly demonstrated the progression of a man living in his own world who, though not without morales, doesn't question the duties of his distasteful job to a man plagued by anxiety over the acts he performs for Don Pizarro as he becomes more tender toward the other prisoners and to Florestan under the subtle manipulation of Leonore. Creswell was a gem among rough, unfinished semi-precious stones.

Philip Horst was plagued by inconsistency as Don Pizarro. In general the voice felt lacking in freedom and a bit like a loose cannon suffering from a bit of rust. In "Ha! welch' ein Augenblick!," however, his explosive fury was breathtaking, giving a suddenly convincing shove to the characterization and demonstrating the true villainy of Don Pizarro. It was unfortunate that Horst could not bring the same fiery vocality and engaged acting to the rest of the role.

Looking at the rest of the ensemble, including Sarah Tynan's Marzelline, unfortunately the performances were unremarkable. Again, the production may be to blame in part, especially in the case of Tynan's Marzelline, who was so invisible I admit I have basically forgotten the performance. Meanwhile, Roland Wood in the role of Don Fernando was so crippled by the staging that it was impossible to tell the quality of or even really pay attention to his voice and skill as a performer. The chorus, somewhat smaller than it might have been, lacked the staying power and clear characterization possible but got the job done.

Edward Gardner and the orchestra played fine through the work, although the classical style perhaps was problematical and lead to some inconsistency. It was very interesting to hear this more classical take on the opera, give how it is so often reverse-influenced by Wagnerian concepts and blown far out of the proportions in which Beethoven might have expected it to be played. Some of the problems for the orchestra came from the production itself, not unlike everything else. The quartet playing Adagio from Op. 132 was a highlight of the show and performed with a searing beauty enhanced by their suspended imprisonment in cages above the set. These soloists perhaps outclassed any performer, singer or orchestra, in the rest of the production, creating an odd inequality on which I will touch shortly.

The real problems with this production lie in the production both due to the set, costume, and lighting design by Rebecca Ringst, Ingo Krügler, and Tim Mitchell, respectively and also due to the direction of Calixto Bieito, who was apparently not particularly present. The problems begin with the basic manipulation of the opera itself. Though I understand why the ENO performs its operas mostly in English, I do believe some of the poetry is lost. I personally prefer surtitles, regrettable as they can be, to translation. Beyond this, however, the translation and arrangement of the dialogue was completely unnatural, changed much of the text, referenced random, irrelevant texts, and cut not only a significant amount, but also significant moments, such as the moment of recognition in the dungeon. The sung text was more preserved but also poorly translated. If so much reworking and rewriting had occurred and worked, the betrayal of Beethoven might be sustained. As it was it made the opera unintelligible and robbed it of much of both its pathos and thoughtfulness. On top of this, the substitution of Leonore No. 3 for the standard overture, a choice Beethoven rejected, and the inclusion of a manipulated Adagio from Op. 132 after the love duet further fragmented the work and robbed it of its original flow. (Yes the former is sometimes played where the latter was but that practice is itself of questionable usefulness and this was certainly overkill, especially given the revelatory, all-inclusive nature of Leonore No. 3.)

The costuming for the production was fine though uninteresting, a kind of unspecific 20th-century garb. The biggest problem was that it made it very difficult to differentiate and track characters in the massive, tangled set. It was not offensive in any way but did not add to the interpretation and undermined audience understanding. The set has been the subject of much debate. It is certainly a technical marvel, with moving labyrinthine towers composed of tubelike lit segments and clear walls, floors and ceilings. The most impressive aspect, technically, is the way the set then rolls down to create an actual labyrinth on the ground horizontally rather than vertically. Though it is true that the strobe-like reflecting light at the beginning was blinding and at times the lighting did not seem to correlate in any intelligible way to the action on stage, the set was not the root of this production's problems as one might assume. It absolutely represents, in very abstract terms, a prison and the winding path of life. It certainly also brings visual interest. Rather, the problem lies with the use of it.

Bieito had the opportunity to take Fidelio in a a highly abstract direction given the set and the performers he had available. As so often happens, however, with abstract productions, the result was instead the middle ground. The most evocative, thought-provoking moments of the production were when people were crawling all over the structure during Leonore No. 3 (as inappropriate a musical selection as that might be) and while slow, almost post-orgasmic action occurred with Leonore and Florestan changing during the Adagio from Op. 132. In the former, the nature of imprisonment, the frantic scramble through a labyrinth, the livelihood of a prisoner, and more general commentary on human nature were all present, if abstract. In the latter, the contentment of love, the exhaustion of an explosive night, and the resolution of injustice were also all portrayed while the love that the leads failed to portray poured forth from the orchestra. For the rest of the production, however, singers generally either stood in or on portions of the set or, for a shocking amount of time, out in front of it. They interacted as normal singers do, except devoid of many of the emotions we would expect. This gave a stiffness to the performance and crippled its believability. Had Bieito only chosen to take the entire production in a more abstract direction, it could have been gripping and thought-provoking. The nail in the coffin, so to speak, was the appearance of Don Fernando in 18th-century regalia from the royal box in the opera house, speaking peace but shooting Florestan, who quickly revived under the able hands of Leonore. Having recently studied use of similar costuming in the somewhat theoretical performance of Vinci's Artaserse in Köln, that kind of costuming can work even out of period. Here it was fatal and totally out of place, adding a campy, kitschy, completely inappropriate tone to a serious, thoughtful work. The shot at Florestan might have meant something had he truly died. As it bared fazed him it was extremely hard to understand why it happened and what was going on at that moment.

That shot, indeed, was not the shot that killed Florestan but the shot that finally killed this production of Beethoven's Fidelio.

Not Quite Frenetic Madness: Strauss' Elektra at the Royal Opera House

2013-10-21T10:22:00.000-04:00

I have always been fascinated by Richard Strauss' Elektra. Despite never having listened to it in full, it has always been iconic to me of Strauss' dichotomy between viennese slice of life productions, such as Der Rosenkavalier or Arabella, and his emphasis on mythology often incorporated elements of Freudian psychology and madness, such as Salome, Elektra, and to some extent Ariadne auf Naxos. Having heard many of Strauss' other operas but never the iconic Elektra, I was excited. This production by the Royal Opera House won great acclaim from the audience in the house and reviewers. I appreciate the production, especially for its consistency, but found it slightly less convincing.

Synopsis and general information: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elektra_(opera)

Elektra | Richard Strauss

Credits:

Performers:

Elektra | Christine Goerke

Chrysothemis | Adrianne Pieczonka

Klytämnestra | Michaela Schuster

Confidante | Louise Armit

Trainbearer | Marianne Cotterill

Young Servant | Doug Jones

Old Servant | Jeremy White

Orest | Iain Paterson

Orest's Companion | John Cunningham

Ägisth | John Daszak

First Maid | Anna Burford

Second Maid | Catherine Carby

Third Maid | Elizabeth Sikora

Fourth Maid | Elizabeth Woollett

Fifth Maid | Jennifer Check

Conductor | Andris Nelsons

Orchestra of the Royal Opera House

Royal Opera Chorus

___________________________________________________________________________________

The design for this production was definitely a mix of interesting elements. The greek-inspired wall, translucent scaffolding, and revolving door dominated for almost the entirety of the opera. The significantly raked floorboards, splattered with blood, were put down, in part, by the maids at the beginning of the opera, while the desk and chairs served as anchors for the action. Drawing on so many elements the set certainly did pull the original Greek setting forward into a 19th or 20th century setting. What was missing, however, was a feeling of real inspiration. There was certainly plenty of visual interest and generally the scattered paper, bloodstains, and color palette contributed to an aura appropriate for the opera. Still, it did not feel as though the set directly contributed to the success and emotional drama of the performers. Yes, they used elements of the set in their acting, but it did not seem to push them. The costuming, divided between ornate dresses and more sackcloth-like, almost grecian clothing (although definitely of a more recent period), had essentially the same effect. It does bear noting, however, that the shift in the set at the end of the production definitely had a profound impact. The revelation of bloody murder, fire, and general mayhem as the screen lifted definitely kicked the climax into a higher gear, bringing home the tense insanity of those moments. The mask, which leads to Elektra's death, had the same effect in the costuming realm, surprising and perhaps strange as it might seem.

It bears noting that the direction fell in the same vein. Interaction with dead women lolling about on the floor, attendants sexily lounging nearby, and so forth, was visually interesting and definitely put the production in the appropriately depraved Freudian mode. Indeed, it is possible to read into this elements about the depravity of Klytämnestra and those around her or to make larger claims about psychology and society. These elements, however, felt like a tangent to the main action, which is of course so focused on Elektra herself.

Christine Goerke's Elektra was rock solid in stamina and staying power. Never did it feel as though she was overwhelmed by Strauss' significant orchestral forces and her voice remained as robust at the end as at the beginning of the show. One peculiarity of Goerke's singing was a lightening as she ascended up through the passaggio and into her upper register. On the one hand, this is probably very healthy singing, shedding chesty weight from the voice that could be damaging and unattractive toward the top. It did leave a little bit of thrill to be desired in the higher passages though, because the voice has so much more of a lyric than dramatic quality. Still, given her impressive consistency, it is fair to say she did what she had to and did it well. Her acting was also well in character throughout. Here again, however, a little bit more thrill could have been exciting. While Elektra is certainly weary, saddened, and anticipatory, this felt like the core of Goerke's character. The psychological angst that drives Elektra's obsession not just with revenge and freedom but with ritualistic vengeance seemed somewhat lacking. Hence, at the climax it seemed sudden and a bit odd as Elektra goes into her frenzy and then dies. Perhaps Goerke intended this, making a statement about Elektra's character, but it undermined what was otherwise and incredibly solid performance by a stolid dramatic soprano who commanded one of opera's most difficult roles ably.

As Chrysothemis, Adrianne Pieczonka certainly offered a contrast to Goerke's Elektra. Dressed much more ornately and definitely attempting to appease her mother and the powers reigning over them, Pieczonka played Chrysothemis' grudging sycophancy to a hilt, relentlessly and emotively attempting to convince Elektra to see reason. She too remained consistent throughout the performance and contended well with the orchestra. Unfortunately some of the higher pitches seemed a bit of a struggle at times, though at others they were thrilling and fully supportive of Pieczonka's characterization. Not unlike Goerke, she also seemed to switch suddenly and a bit unconvincingly toward the end of the opera as she became complicit with Orest's vengeance, though the writing of the character may be culpable for this, at least in part. Still, it was a solid performance and, perhaps more than Goerke, it felt as though Pieczonka truly embodied and lived the character of Chrysothemis, easing the process of suspending disbelief and seeing only the character rather than the performer. Certainly casting the two opposite each other was a superb choice.

Commanding in both presence and voice, Michaela Schuster dominated the role of Klytämnestra. The voice was not one of the sort possessing some unique characteristic making it instantly recognizable. Rather, the voice was of a moderately dark tint and full, allowing Schuster's acting to shine through. While it's true that Schuster failed to play the fragile psyche of the character, her more domineering role gave a sort of dramatic appropriateness to the opera's conclusion and made it perhaps even more convincing that her fears persist despite her outward shell of confidence. The most impressive moments of the show, due in large part to Goerke, as well, were the interactions between Klytämnestra and Elektra. Schuster was not a star, but definitely contributed to the overall work.

Orest enjoys little stage time for a male lead, but Iain Paterson played the role with pathos and nobility. Both his singing and his characterization showed Orest as tender toward the fraying Elektra while also a strong warrior bent on vengeance for the crimes of his mother and her paramour. He helped to amp up the tension of the work toward the end of the opera when the weaving of both the plot and the psychological drama come together, and added the needed element of sympathy necessary to make Strauss' description of the work as a tragedy, rather than just a drama about vengeance in which no one wins, ring true. Indeed, Paterson gave the feeling that it would almost be nice if Strauss had written Orest to have more stage time!

I frequently find I am impressed by the abilities of supporting characters in Wagner and Strauss operas. Elektra, focused as it is on the main characters, may not be a work in which the supporting characters are so wrapped in that they can truly make or break a show, but in this production it was no different - the supporting characters were all quite effective, whether those with individual roles or the maids. It helped round out a solid ensemble and bring to life the character of the setting.

Andris Nelson led the Orchestra of the ROH and the entire ensemble admirably, bringing out the contrasts in Strauss' innovative, evocative score. He especially excelled at demonstrating the frenetic angst in the tenser moments of the work. There were moments, both with the singers and with the orchestra alone, that truly made me sit back and say, "Aha, this is why this music was considered so fresh but also so powerful, and why it endures today."

It is not entirely clear what left this performance not entirely unsatisfying. Perhaps the aphorism, "close but no cigar" is apt for describing the sensation. Perhaps it was the direction of Charles Edwards the undermined a cast of performers that on paper (or in warm ups) seems like a tour de force. There were indubitably moments of great tension and release and the singing was impressive for so difficult a work. Still, both musically and interpretively it felt like that tension would drop at certain moments or fail to hit a peak that felt very much within reach. The musical difficulties are noted here, but they were truly very, very slight. Interpretively though, Edwards might have been able to guide performers toward interpretive choices that drew out the power of each character rather than serving a more abstract dramatic vision. This would have brought the performance from good to truly exceptional.

I am very glad to have had the opportunity to see this performance of Strauss' Elektra. I have always been intrigued by it and given the Strauss I have seen, I have had a sampling now of the composer's full operatic canon. This slightly abstract performance definitely prepared me for the very avant-garde production of Beethoven's Fidelio that I saw shortly after, which will be reviewed shortly.

Two New Reviews Coming Up - Strauss' Elektra & Beethoven's Fidelio

2013-10-18T21:41:00.000-04:00

Just wanted to throw out there quickly that I've been a bit slow in getting through the mass of blogging I have to do between this and To Float on a Wayward Wind while also trying to do stuff and travel while in London in addition to classes and work. It's a bit crazy.

Still, I have been to Strauss' Elektra at the Royal Opera House and to English National Opera's production of Beethoven's Fidelio. Both had their highs and lows and reviews will be coming out shortly. I may shortly be at ENO's Madama Butterfly and would love to see ROH's Les vêpres siciliennes, though scheduling this has been difficult.

Meanwhile, The Passion of Opera has broken 30,000 lifetime views and keeps going strong. Thank you for your support and I'll have new reviews up shortly!!

A Classic in Fine Form: Mozart's Le nozze di Figaro at the Royal Opera House

2013-10-18T21:26:00.000-04:00

Le nozze di Figaro is, of course, a classic in the operatic canon. The cross-dressing, marriage/fidelity farce is typical of Mozart and Da Ponte in its ability to, like Shakespeare, convey both comedy and serious societal implications simultaneously. The thing is, for me, I went into this performance already weary, never having been very satisfied by either the comedy or the drama in this famous opera. I was reminded of the fact that while sometimes works can become overhyped, the crowds generally have some idea about things. I was reminded also that with something as famous as Nozze, perhaps I just had not seen a production that was good enough. That was exactly the case. This production demonstrated to me the genius of Mozart's beloved opera.

Synopsis and general information: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Marriage_of_Figaro

Le nozze di Figaro | Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

Credits:
Director | David McVicar
Designs | Tanya McCallin
Lighting Design | Paule Constable
Movement Director | Leah Hausman

Performers:
Conductor | John Eliot Gardiner
Figaro | Luca Pisaroni
Susanna | Lucy Crowe
Cherubino | Renata Pokupic
Count Almaviva | Christopher Maltman
Countess Almaviva | Maria Bengtsson
Bartolo | Carlos Chausson
Marcellina | Helene Schneiderman
Don Basilio | Jean-Paul Fouchécourt
Don Curzio | Alasdair Elliott
Antonio | Lynton Black
Barbarina | Mary Bevan
Chorus | Royal Opera Chorus
Orchestra | Orchestra of the Royal Opera House

___________________________________________________________________________________

The design of this production, by Tanya McCallin and Paule Constable, was an excellent take on the typical period-design production of Nozze. The primary precept of the set was the typical 18th century walls of a palace from the period. Within this, however, a section came out, contained within, to demonstrate Figaro and Susanna's room within the palace. This was quite ingenious, keeping the narrative in the same general space but specifying the room. Subsequently the room stood alone (as seen in the picture above). Finally, for the scenes in the garden, a different wall was set far back but with stylistic similarity to the palace rooms from the preceding acts, giving a sense of continuity. In each section but especially in the garden at the end, with abstracted trees and post-party items strewn about, the set and lighting had a refreshingly modern feel. It was clear that this was not a creaky old opera set, lit only with a suffocatingly suffusive warm light, from days of yore in the 20th century, despite being in period.

David McVicar's direction, combined with Leah Hausman's movement direction, beautifully set off the counterpoint of the collection of characters and dichotomy of styles in Nozze. Each character was distinctly defined, with the interpretation of the singer shining through and providing the nuance to play the range of colors each of the (at least main) characters requires. There was plenty of movement around the stage to keep things interesting and facilitate the physical comedy inherent in the opera, often with a fresh twist. The combination of casting and direction, also, helped to cast the opera in a new light, with some characters younger than often expected and others played softer, harder, etc. than typical of many productions.

Within this excellently designed set and with direction that allowed the singers to shine, the singers themselves definitely did so. Headlining the performance was Luca Pisaroni, the young Italian bass-baritone who has been winning fame around the world and whose success was noted in the Met's pastiche The Enchanted Island. His character in that production was the hulking Caliban, a character requiring much affectation to play, which Pisaroni handled ably. Here, his Figaro was exquisitely naturalistic. To say that Pisaroni played the character in any sort of revolutionary way would be to do him a disservice. This was the same old Figaro that we know and love, full of confidence in his love, wit, and cunning until the final hour. Where often that performance might feel tired or forced, however, Pisaroni felt fresh and utterly in control of the character. His voice is not necessarily over-the-top thrilling, nor the largest for a bass-baritone, but it flows smoothly and effortlessly. Every movement Pisaroni took felt as though he really just was Figaro, and his singing was at once beautiful and appropriately inflected, with vocal coloring seeming as natural as it might be in the spoken voice. Of course, nowhere was this more apparent than in big arias such as "Se vuol ballare" and "Non più andrai." Perhaps unusually, however, it was his "Aprite un po'quegli occhi," fraught with rending vulnerability, that revealed the seriousness in the opera that touches all the characters, even confident, comedic Figaro. In all, Pisaroni felt like the consummate performer - totally in sync with his own instrument and the character he was playing for the evening.

Lucy Crowe's Susanna did not initially move me, but grew on me substantially as the show went on. The voice had a kind of mellowness that was less than appealing. Certainly it is a very pretty voice, but that prettiness at times felt almost bland There is certainly a calm sweetness about the character, but initially Lucy Crowe seemed to be almost too mellow. It is hard to place exactly what changed as the performance went on. Perhaps it is that Crowe played very well the change that comes over Susanna as she becomes more assertive as the opera progresses. For some of the piece I found her simply to be inoffensive but hard to grasp. As it progressed it felt as though she had portrayed the character masterfully and that the voice fit. It is true that her "Deh vieni, non tardar" was beautiful and show-stopping. Indeed, perhaps this slow build was exactly the perception that was intended, but it was hard not comprehending that until the later acts of the show.

As Cherubino, Renata Pokupic's convincing performance was a truly immersive experience. As someone not too far away from the travails of budding amorous feelings, I was sucked in by Pokupic's at once boldly romantic and anxiously insecure Cherubino. Of course, both "Non so piu cosa son, cosa faccio" and "Voi, che sapete" express this sentiment perfectly, and Pokupic's voice rang out clearly with that perfect mix of developed female tone shaded with a boyish color. More than this, however, it was Pokupic's physical actions, oscillating between a great deal of frittering movement and a kind of martial bravado, that brought home the character.

Christopher Maltman's casting as Almaviva, combined with his acting, was quite refreshing. Certainly in many ways the joke is on Almaviva throughout the entire opera. Often times this takes the mode of a lecherous old fool chasing hopelessly after Susanna and then being flustered when he is tricked and pulled about by the rest of the cast. That kitschy interpretation has its place. Maltman's Almaviva, however, possessed a youthful vivacity that made both his pursuit of Susanna and his jealousy of his wife's presumed disloyalty believable, if still folly. Combined with a rich, commanding voice that was nowhere more striking than "Hai gia vinta la causa," it was a wonderful take on the character.

As Countess Almaviva, Maria Bengtsson offered a reserved, honest sweetness. Her singing spun fine filaments of gold with every line. At moments it did feel as though letting go of this technically masterful control and sing with a more robust tone might fit the situation, but "Porgi, amor" and "Dove sono" were heartrendingly tender. Just as the Count often has a bit of slapstick farce surrounding him so often these days, the Countess can be played as the wily seductress or as an over the top sort of caricature. Here she was exactly the pure character - hurt, longing for love, intrigued by the opportunities of Cherubino, but a woman of honor who nonetheless still possesses the cleverness to bring her husband, contrite, back to her.

Bartolo & Marcellina, played by Carlos Chausson and Helene Schneiderman, respectively, fit in the same vein for the production. So often the switch from conniving coconspirators to secret, enduring lovers is overplayed in order to make the absurdity of it acceptable. Here, Chausson and Schneiderman let the comedy speak for itself while truly demonstrating the overwhelming emotion of discovering their son and rediscovering each other. Their showpieces have less to do with this discovery, and Chausson's somewhat heavy bass handled "La vendetta" admirably although not without a catch or two while "Il capro e la capretta" sprung from Schneiderman's dark mezzo-soprano voice with surprising poignancy and tenderness.

The remaining character parts of Don Basilio (Jean-Paul Fouchécourt), Don Curzio (Alasdair Elliott), Antonio (Lynton Black), and Barbarina (Mary Bevan) fit perfectly into this well-crafted production. They played their parts, often ridiculous, quite well and sang their arias ably but were able to back away and let the surprisingly vulnerable honesty of the production reign even amongst the comedy. Indeed, Mary Bevan won particular acclaim from the crowd for her "L'ho perduta," though where she truly shined was in her gentle yet playful interactions with Cherubino. A promising outing for the young soprano.

John Eliot Gardiner led this ensemble with exceptional facility, bringing out all the best in the work's famous overture, backing off to make every word from the performers heard, and supporting a show with impeccable accuracy. The orchestra was remarkable in how symbiotic its relationship with the singers felt.

In all, the Royal Opera House's Le nozze di Figaro was splendid. It maintained the obvious comedy in Mozart and Da Ponte's masterpiece but added a humanistic side that was beautifully touching and offered reflection on the themes of marriage, love, trust, loyalty, and age. It certainly changed my mind about the work!

Arrival in London

2013-09-25T04:48:00.001-04:00

I've arrived in London! The next couple of days will probably be a lot of getting settled and learning my way around but I hope to be seeing some music quite soon!!

New Travel Blogging, Preparing for London, 5,000 Monthly Views!!

2013-09-13T15:21:00.000-04:00

As my departure date for London on September 24th rapidly approaches I had the thought that I would like to blog so family and friends can read about my travels, as I did when I was in Vienna. I will post all my musical related reviews, etc. here while I travel, but also copy them to that blog. With this blog's recent incredible success, skyrocketing first through 3,000, then 4,000, and now over 5,000 views per month and on its way to 30,000 lifetime views, I thought it would be a good time to introduce the second blog again. Once I am no longer studying abroad in London I plan to transform the second blog into a permanent travel blog.

The title of the blog has changed from A Sojourn in Vienna to To Float on a Wayward Wind, reflecting its new, broader character. Check it out at floatonawaywardwind.blogspot.com and see what I'm up to in London and beyond!

Wiener Staatsoper's 2011 Ring Cycle Recorded - Available for Purchase!!

2013-09-05T14:08:00.001-04:00

Seeing the entire Ring Cycle in two weeks, performed under Christian Thielemann with the Wiener Philharmoniker in the pit, was definitely a highlight of my time in Vienna. I am no Wagnerian, by which I mean that while I appreciate the music it is not an area with which I have a great deal of experience. Still, it was quite the experience. I commented then that there were ups and downs in the singing but that the conducting and orchestra were superb. The staging was non-traditional, which also had its high and low points. I had no idea that it was being recorded while I was there, however. It's very gratifying to see the edition, read people's thoughts about it, and say, "oh yes, that substitution of one singer for another? I witnessed that!"

I will not make any further comment on the comparative quality of this recording than to say it definitely has its merits even if many will find it lackluster in singing compared to earlier "golden ages," and may discount it for the price. For more perspective however, contained are links to my original reviews of the four operas and my conclusion reviewing the whole cycle:

Das Rheingold
Die Walküre
Siegfried
Götterdämmerung
Der Ring des Nibelungen - Cycle Review

For those interested in purchasing the set or simply for looking up more information about it, it is available from Amazon, at a price of roughly $72-$92 depending on the seller: Wagner: Ring [Box Set]

I would also like to add that I found Mr. Crowe, a reviewer in the Amazon comments, had a very insightful perspective. I have copied his review below exactly as it appears in its original form, which can be seen, with the comments of others, on the Amazon page for the recording. He provides insight not only into the performances (which I also have written about in my original posts) but also into the sound quality of the recording and the politics behind its creation and the production's creation (things on which I do not touch):

"20 of 22 people found the following review helpful

A Tale of 2Thielemanns with this one just taking the prize-but then it's not much of a competition-but it could have been worse!, August 6, 2013

D. S. CROWE "Music Lover"

This review is from: Wagner: Ring (Audio CD)

The recording of this live Ring Cycle from Vienna was dogged by controversy from the word go. The Ring is in more or less permanent repertory at the Staatsoper, with a cycle in the spring and one in late autumn/winter.
A new production will be ushered in by a "Star Conductor", who is then replaced after a year or two by less stellar though just as gifted conductors.
The current production was inaugurated by Franz Welser-Most, who was succeeded by Adam Fischer and Peter Schneider.
It could not have been more of a shock therefore when the 2011 autumn cycle was announced as being under Christian Thielemann than if it had been under Herbert von Karajan via a medium!
Furthermore, it was to be a gala project, recorded and filmed live (with no retakes) for intended commercial release, and to that end it was further announced that the orchestra would be the " A " team composed only of members of the Philharmonic-a true second VPO Ring! Tickets sold out in seconds.
After the rush of excitement, a creeping reality began to set in-what about casting? The pool of truly great singers of Wagner is a small one, (is there one?) and all houses struggle to assemble first rate casts across the board, and Vienna is no exception. An examination of the cast roused little enthusiasm, being composed of veterans, second string performers and few real stars.
However, at least Dalayman was cast as Brunnhilde-until she was taken ill and had to be replaced by Linda Watson at very short notice! Eric Halfvarson had to be replaced as Hagen by Attila Jun for Act 3, and Uusitala was also replaced late on in the rehearsal process by veteran Arnold Dohmen!
Filming stopped after Walkure-Oh Dear!-and it was announced soon after the final performance-that recordings would NOT after all be released!
There was anger and speculation mixed-had Welser-Most axed it in pique in his capacity as Music Director, had Thielemann vetoed it, and if so why?
There were of course suspicions as to why, but denials came from both camps and the debate raged on. Vigorous protests came from the orchestra, no doubt thinking of lost revenue.
Critics in Vienna had hailed the performances as the greatest artistic event in 50 years-international critics were less effusive-MUCH less effusive-so we in the wider public could only surmise that it probably wasn't as great an achievement as we might have hoped for.
Well, finally, after all the shilly- shallying, we can judge for ourselves!
Comparisons are inevitable with the Solti Vienna recording which is otherwise "hors concours", and Thielemann's own Bayreuth recording of 2010 from the 2008 deason which I reviewed on its release, and for which I expressed great admiration for the conductor's vision and particularly his sense of "architecture" with almost equal levels of disappointment for the lack of quality singing.

I'll start by paying a compliment-this recording is not as disappointing as I had feared it would be.
Pretty much the same applies to this set as to the earlier 2008 live recording except that there is an ironic reversal of roles-those that are very finely sung on the Bayreuth set are here rather poor, and vice versa!
The recording is processed at 24Bits/96khz and is excellent in conveying a real impression of hearing the performance in this venue. The balance is inevitably different from the Bayreuth set, with the orchestral presence much more forward and making more of an impact-but those expecting the lush wrap around sound of the Solti/Culshaw recording will be disappointed as this recording highlights the artificiality of sound of the earlier set.
However, compared to other live recordings from the Staatsoper, particularly those on Orfeo, the sound is a little dry and airless at times. I won't overstress this as the there is a very realistic sense of presence about the recording which is pleasing, and the balance between voices and orchestra is excellent.
Stage noise is occasional but not over intrusive, as is occasional audience participation-applause at the end of acts is left in, as are the occasional (and in Vienna inevitable!) boos!
The orchestral sound is very different from that of Bayreuth, where the strings are very forward and the brass recessed. While the refulgent string tone is in full evidence, the resplendent Vienna Brass are major participants in the forefront-and magnificent they are too. In terms of sheer orchestral sonic impact, this set eclipses the earlier Bayreuth one. At times the weight of the brass sound is overwhelming. This is a live "warts and all" recording, not patched together from rehearsals (there were very few!) and alternative performances (there were none!) and there is occasional imprecision-more especially entry between singers and orchestra is not always spot on, but I'm being hyper-critical and there is little to cause raised eyebrows.
The transfer is at quite a low level, meaning that a volume boost is probably required which in turns risks damage to equipment -and the ears-when the many climaxes are reached.
I found Thielemann's sense of architecture to be superb, even revelatory in the earlier recording-and so it proves again here. I was time and again reminded of Knappertsbusch at his best-not AS slow, but Thielemann understands the ebb and flow of the drama better than any of his contemporaries, and the orchestral sound world is just perfect. He even emphasises even more the big rallentando he makes before the final statement of the Walkure motif in the Walkurenritt-pure Kna-I love it!
What Thielemann understands so well are the "big moments."
So many of these pass for little or naught under Janowski and Gergiev, but in this set they raise the hairs on the neck as they should.
So far then, it's all rather fine. Now we come to the singing.
It would be easy for me to yet again launch into a tirade against the lamentable standard of Wagner singing that is inflicted upon us today, and more especially the level of critical approval that it receives-but I'm going to take a philosophical approach accepting that we are where we are, and the stark choices are to perform the music with the best that's available-or not to perform it at all. In this context, this Ring is not bad at all-indeed much of it is very well sung by any standard!
I greatly enjoy Dohmen's Wotan in the Haenchen recordings, but find his Bayreuth assumption reliable but rather prosaic.
In this recording he is-superb! Veteran he may be, but his vocal resources are in fine fettle in this Ring, his frequent piano singing is truly beautiful, and his sense of the drama is superb.
Hi Rheingold Wotan is masterful-he reaches the heights with steady assured
tone, his Walkure Wotan is noble, angry and moving by turns, and his Wanderer is just wonderful. Yes, there are barks, snatched notes, exaggerations-this is what one always hears in the opera house. His assumption for me ranks with the very best.
Das Rheingold fares well in general-Konieczki's Alberich performance is more to my taste than was his Wotan-well sung and superbly crafted as a really nasty Nibelung indeed. I still find a rather disturbing nasal quality to his tone, but it is quite fitting his characterisation in this instance. He's not Neidlinger or Wolfgang Koch-but he's very good indeed, as are the beautifully sung and acted, on pitch Rhinemaidens. Janine Baechle's Fricka is less hectoring and more studied in her berating of Wotan for his stupidity, Freia sings well instead of screeching, Donner and Froh are excellent and as are the admittedly rather grainy sounding giants, who nonetheless impress with the weight of tone and their acting. Adrian Eröd is a local Viennese baritone who is considered a star in that city-and rightly so for his assured beautiful singing and excellent dramatic skills more than warrant his reputation.
His Valentin in Faust can be heard on the Orfeo recording from Vienna I reviewed some years ago (I was at the performance!), but here we find him in what I believe is the unique situation of being cast as a baritone Loge.
The range does not trouble him in the slightest, but the darker quality to the voice makes this loge a much more formidable character indeed-there is much more scorn and menace in the voice. This is a real tour-de-force.
Wolfgang Schmidt, a recent Siegfried, adopts a "comedy voice" for Mime. The squawking exaggerations work quite effectively in his brief appearance here, though not later. Anna Larsson's Erda is very fine and assured, and not too "plummy."
I count this Rheingold as a major success, and Walkure is only slightly less so.
Christopher Ventris as Siegmund is no Kaufmann, never mind Vickers or King (I won't mention Melchior or it will bring on tears), but his lighter voiced , l lyrical Siegmund gains strength and confidence as the first act progresses, and he is as good as Wottrich on the Bayreuth set. He doesn't sustain the final "Wälsungenblut" for more than a second, but this is not in the score and is only grandstanding by the tenor-but it is sadly missed!
He is partnered by the veteran Waltraud Meier. My heart sank when I heard her opening tremulous rather strangulated notes- I need not have worried, for she not only recovers but launches into the higher strata of this role with absolute assuredness, and a brilliant rock steady legato that is a joy to hear.
Like all natural mezzos who have "bigged up" to soprano, there is a slight tremulousness in the middle register, but the committed acting banishes all thoughts of this. It is a truly thrilling performance, not least in Acts 2 and her big moment in Act 3 is hair raising (in the best sense!)
Halfvorsen is a mediocre wobbly Hunding-not too bad in this role-Baechle's Fricka is again excellent, and I have already alluded to Dohmen's truly inspired Wotan. The Valkyries have never been bettered-they are utterly superb in every respect.

Katarina Dalayman is the best Brunnhilde in this work since possibly Nilsson!
She has a lighter voice than Stemme-but none of the wobble. From her first entry and her very cleverly crafted "Hojo to ho's " to her final pleadings with Wotan, she is utterly superb. The act 2 " Todesverkundigung" scene can become a drag, but her nobility and brilliant singing make it seem too short.
Thank goodness we now have her Walkure Brunnhilde to complement her Gotterdammerung performance for Elder.
So, a fine Walkure which is let down only by having a very good rather than knockout Siegmund, and a wobbly Hunding. I will return to it frequently.

The first 20 minutes or so of Siegfried are appalling. The strangulated caterwauling of both Schmidt and Stephen Gould is truly abysmal, with little or no attempt (or ability?) to sing any of the written notes. The entry of Wanderer brings things back to an even keel, and Schmidt finds the voice to sing more of his responses to Dohmen's excellent Wanderer.
Then a minor miracle takes place-Stephen Gould returns and has found some steady tone to finish off the act with hardly a shout, and he delivers a passable forging song, though I wish his Mime would shut up-a pity he didn't behead him there and then. The audience erupts into cheers-whether this is because the noise has stopped, or it is an expression of genuine pleasure I am not sure.
Gould does have more ring to his voice in the second part of this act than he did in Bayreuth, and he continues to improve in Act 2 where after a thrilling confrontation between Alberich and the Wanderer, he croons his way through the Forest Murmurs quite effectively. Don't get me wrong-it's not great, just not terrible which is in these times the best we can expect. The Woodbird is a triumph-just beautiful. This is Gould's best act.
Act 3 commences with a raging orchestral storm leading into a moving and terrifically well sung scene between Erda and the Wanderer, and in fairness Gould is not bad in the confrontation with his Grandfather.
Sadly, Ms Dalayman became ill after Walkure and was replaced at the eleventh hour by Linda Watson, whom I castigated for her rotten singing in the Bayreuth set. She is in totally different voice here, and delivers a very well acted, technically accomplished Brunnhilde. Her voice is not beautiful in the way of Dalayman, but she sings well with her vibrato under control-mostly.
It takes two to tango and to duet-I'll draw a veil over this final duet-I won't be returning to it anytime soon!

Gotterdammerung starts with superb Norns, has first class chorus work, the same excellent Rhinemaidens and a fine Waltraute in Baechle again.
The Dawn and Siegfried's Rhine Journey are to cheer for, as is the orchestral contribution throughout. Linda Watson's Brunnhilde starts pretty well and improves exponentially through the work culminating in a very fine Immolation scene indeed. Stephen Gould is in the best voice I have heard him, and although he (and we) suffer in his Act 3 narration, he is otherwise not bad and actually does a fine Siegfried's Death-the Funeral Music is sensational with Thielemann unleashing the full force of the magnificent orchestra.
Having given us a fine Donner, Markus Eiche gives us a truly memorable Gunther-weak, vacillating and dominated by his well sung sister Gutrune and Hagen, and the Alberich is very well taken again
Eric Halfvorsen returns for the role of Hagen in Acts One and Two, but is replaced by Attila Jun (Elder's Hagen) for Act 3.
I'll assume that Halfvorsen was in vocal difficulties from the outset, because I find him all but unlistenable. Not only is he incapable of sustaining any phrase, he cannot produce sufficient tone. The only word I can use -being generous-is awful. He manages after a fashion with the more conversational elements of the role, but as soon as he has to force his tone, the voice breaks down. The Act 2 summoning of the vassals is painful.
It begs the question not only why did the Staatsoper not substitute the superior Jun for the entire role, and indeed why did they engage Halfvorsen at all? Admittedly they are used to unsteady basses in Vienna-Kurt Rydl was principal bass for nigh on 2 decades, and he always had a wobble that registered on the Richter scale, but at least the sheer volume and intimidating characterisation carried the day. When one thinks of previous essayers of this pivotal role such as Frick, Greindl, Ridderbusch and Salminen, one could weep! It seems that the pool of great basses is as shallow as it is for Heldentenors and Dramatic sopranos-in 2013, veteran John Tomlinson is singing Hagen in this production!!!!
Matters improve when Jun takes over in Act 3, and it is a fine conclusion to the cycle. I have already alluded to Siegfried's death, but Linda Watson gives us a very fine Immolation scene, touching and thrilling in equal measure-yes, there is an occasional wobble, but not enough to detract from the overall excellence of her performance. Thielemann gives us a wonderful cataclysmic finale, and the orchestra really rises to the occasion.
There is included in the very attractive packaging a comprehensive booklet with translated libretti, and 2DVD's which comprise documentary films on each segment of the production-the scenes shown might be seen as a warning rather than an encouragement as Vienna too has succumbed to the tyranny of " Regie Theater" for its new productions.
So what is the final conclusion? A superb Rheingold is partnered by a very fine Walkure followed by a deeply flawed but ultimately serviceable Siegfried and a fine Gotterdammerung whose qualities just survive the vocal inadequacies to which I have referred.
The 2008 Bayreuth recording was patched together from rehearsals and 3 performances each of the works, and as result ensemble is crisper overall.
On the other hand, the sheer impact of the VPO eclipses that of Bayreuth.
Vocally it is swings and roundabouts with Vienna just winning out despite the excellence of König in the Bayreuth set. Dalayman, Dohmen and Eröd are simply stunning, and other cast members are mostly excellent.
Therefore, I would just recommend this over the earlier set, and as an added bonus it is much less expensive and has the DVD extras.
The Vienna Critics were wrong-it was not the artistic event of the decade-I've heard better performances of all but Rheingold in Vienna over the years.
I can see why it was planned not to release it-or rather I can hear why.
Even though by today's standards it's a pretty good effort, sadly that's not saying much!

Seekers after a VPO Ring should stick with Solti. Seekers after their first recording should opt for the newly mastered Bohm on Eloquence.
This is for diehards only-and of course Thielemann admirers. There is much to admire, probably just more than there is to deplore, so I award it 3.5 stars, just above the Bayreuth set. Stewart Crowe"

3,000->4,000 Views/Month!

2013-08-24T22:41:00.000-04:00

Update: After hitting 3,000 views/month the blog rocketed up to 4,000. I wanted to reflect that on this post!! Keep it coming! New posts soon after we move in on Thursday!

What with the 20,000 lifetime views and now this post, it may seem like I'm now only writing about the past success of this blog. That's definitely not the case. The new house has finally closed and I should be moved in within a week. Then I can get back to reviewing some DVDs, etc., as promised in the last post. Come September, it's off to London! Still, exciting to see 3,000 views/month over the course of the past month!

Passion of Opera Surpasses 20,000 Total Views!

2013-08-09T23:12:00.000-04:00

I am very pleased to see to see that the blog has surpassed 20,000 lifetime views and sits as of this moment at 20,005. I am looking forward to continuing to post into the future.

It's been up and down at points with my school commitments and sometimes a lack of things about which to write. Still, the reviews of operas in Vienna, the profiles of versatile singers, and recent reviews in Virginia have definitely been highlights. Looking forward I will be putting up a review of Leonardo [not da] Vinci's Artaserse, performed in Köln by an all-star cast of countertenors and other male vocalists, as well as hopefully reviewing a few other DVDs or broadcasts by the end of September. Once I arrive in London I will definitely be reviewing opera performances that I see at the ROH. I am definitely committed for the future!

In the meantime, I will leave you with this performance of 10,000 people singing Ode to Joy from Beethoven's Symphony #9 in Japan as a reaction the 2011 tsunami.