Well, the season announcement has been made, and I was 80% correct in my previous post.
The summer production, from July 30 to August 20, will be Porgy and Bess, with Gordon Hawkins and Lisa Daltirus in the lead roles, with John DeMain conducting.
Carmen will play from October 15 to 29, with Anita Rachvelishvili as Carmen, and Joseph Calleja, returning five years after his local debut, as Don Jose. This will not be a revival of the production from 2004, but a production borrowed from Lyric Opera of Kansas City.
From January 14 to 28 will be the Seattle debut of Verdi's Attila with John Relyea in the title role, Antonello Palombi as Foresto, Ana Lucrecia Garcia as Odabella and Marco Vratogna as Ezio. If the pictures on the Seattle Opera website are any indication, this looks to be a modernized production.
Orpheus and Eurydice by Gluck will play from February 25 - March 10, the one opera I didn't guess. It's the tenor version of the opera with William Burden as Orpheus, Davinia Rodriguez as Eurydice and Julianne Gearhart as Amore.
The season ends with Madama Butterfly from May 5 - 19. Patricia Racette and Stefano Secco make their local debuts in the lead roles.
I can't say that I'm particularly thrilled by the choice of operas--however, the high quality of singers for the season does interest me.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Seattle Opera, next season
Normally, Seattle Opera announces the next season in early January, so the 2011-12 announcement is probably only a couple of weeks away.
But usually, it's possible to figure out, from here and there, what they are planning on presenting. However, this time it's been more difficult than usual to figure out their plans in advance.
Originally, the 2011 summer opera was to have been Tannhäuser, a work not seen in Seattle since the 1984-85 season (Speight Jenkins' inaugural season with the company, as a matter of fact). And the title role was to have been played by Christopher Ventris, Seattle's 2003 Parsifal, in his role debut. However, apparently the production has been cancelled. Instead of Wagner, we will be getting Gershwin: Porgy and Bess, last seen in Seattle in 1995.
The January 2012 production will be Verdi--one of his rarer works at that: Attila, the first time it's been performed by the company. Antonello Palombi, last season's Manrico, will take the tenor role of Foresto.
And in October, March, and May? I actually don't know. I'm pretty confident that Madama Butterfly will be one of the works performed, and Carmen is a very likely pick as well. I'd expect that the remaining fifth opera will also be one of the standard canon as well: likely possibilities include Fidelio, Tales of Hoffmann, Elisir d'amore, and Don Pasquale. Rigoletto is less likely, as they are already performing a Verdi work, and the last time they did it, it bombed at the box office. It's unlikely they'll do two Puccini operas in one season, so that eliminates Turandot. It's been a long time since Seattle Opera has done Faust, but Speight Jenkins is on record as hating that opera, so I can't see him programming it in one of his last seasons as the company's director. Maybe they'll surprise us with a mainstage debut of Britten's A Midsummer Night's Dream (based on the interesting production Peter Kazaras did with the Young Artists Program back in 2009).
Anyway, my guesses for 2011-12's five operas are:
But usually, it's possible to figure out, from here and there, what they are planning on presenting. However, this time it's been more difficult than usual to figure out their plans in advance.
Originally, the 2011 summer opera was to have been Tannhäuser, a work not seen in Seattle since the 1984-85 season (Speight Jenkins' inaugural season with the company, as a matter of fact). And the title role was to have been played by Christopher Ventris, Seattle's 2003 Parsifal, in his role debut. However, apparently the production has been cancelled. Instead of Wagner, we will be getting Gershwin: Porgy and Bess, last seen in Seattle in 1995.
The January 2012 production will be Verdi--one of his rarer works at that: Attila, the first time it's been performed by the company. Antonello Palombi, last season's Manrico, will take the tenor role of Foresto.
And in October, March, and May? I actually don't know. I'm pretty confident that Madama Butterfly will be one of the works performed, and Carmen is a very likely pick as well. I'd expect that the remaining fifth opera will also be one of the standard canon as well: likely possibilities include Fidelio, Tales of Hoffmann, Elisir d'amore, and Don Pasquale. Rigoletto is less likely, as they are already performing a Verdi work, and the last time they did it, it bombed at the box office. It's unlikely they'll do two Puccini operas in one season, so that eliminates Turandot. It's been a long time since Seattle Opera has done Faust, but Speight Jenkins is on record as hating that opera, so I can't see him programming it in one of his last seasons as the company's director. Maybe they'll surprise us with a mainstage debut of Britten's A Midsummer Night's Dream (based on the interesting production Peter Kazaras did with the Young Artists Program back in 2009).
Anyway, my guesses for 2011-12's five operas are:
- Porgy and Bess
- Attila
- Madama Butterfly
- Carmen
- L'elisir d'amore
Friday, December 10, 2010
La fanciulla del West (Metropolitan Opera DVD), 1992
Giacomo Puccini's horse opera was first performed 100 years ago today, December 10, 1910 at the Metropolitan Opera in New York City. To mark the occasion, I thought it would be fitting to watch the DVD of the Met production which was premiered in 1991. The same production has been revived and is currently being performed in New York--next month, the Met will do an HD theatre broadcast of the opera.
I love La fanciulla del West. I think it's Puccini's best opera for reasons both musical and dramatic. By 1910, Puccini's skill at composing atmospheric orchestral and vocal music was greater than it had ever been. For an opera set in Gold Rush-era California, Puccini composed music evoking the vast open spaces of the new country--in the opening moments of Act 3, there are some notes from the brass that sound Coplandesque--although Aaron Copland himself, born in 1900, would have been in short pants at the time this opera was composed.
However, this music is unfairly neglected. After composing four operas (Manon Lescaut, La boheme, Tosca, Madama Butterfly) that seem to consist of almost nothing but one hit tune after another, he then composed five that had almost none: in Fanciulla del West, La rondine, Il tabarro, Suor Angelica, and Gianni Schicchi, there are maybe three famous arias: "Ch'ella me creda", "Che il bel sogno di Doretta", and "O mio babbino caro." Not until Turandot did Puccini become a hitmaker again.
The problem is, Fanciulla's arias are so connected with the drama that it's hard to sing them as separate excerpts: the tenor's Act 2 aria "Or son sei mesi" is, I am convinced, one of the most dramatic arias Puccini ever composed: its heartfelt anguish blows away the cheap tenorial whining in Cavaradossi's "E lucevan le stelle." (For the record, I really really hate Tosca.)
Certainly anyone who thinks Fanciulla is unmelodic should note the case of Mr. Andrew Lloyd Webber. The one and only good tune from his grotesque musical The Phantom of the Opera (the 'hook' from "Music of the Night") was taken directly from Fanciulla del West--it starts off as a waltz tune in Act 1, and turns into a love theme that is used to great effect in Acts 1 and 2, and eventually turned into an almost hymn-like tune of redemption and sadness in the final act. The Puccini estate quite rightly sued Webber (at the time, the opera was still under copyright) who paid an undisclosed settlement for his misuse of the melody Puccini created.
But enough of Andrew Lloyd Webber. Besides the music of Fanciulla del West, I also love the drama itself. The opera is occasionally compared to Tosca, and there are superficial similarities: the soprano loves the tenor, the tenor is in trouble, the baritone lusts after the soprano and wants to kill the tenor and, scarily, has the weight of the law on his side. But while Floria Tosca was a whiny little self-pitying brat, Minnie is a strong, independent woman who loves her friends and does her best to help and protect the people she loves. While Cavaradossi is a self-righteous artist (the worst sort of self-righteous person), Ramerrez is a criminal who recognize his evil deeds and is desperately trying to make himself a better person. While Scarpia is, essentially, a complete monster, Sheriff Jack Rance is a harsh, angry, lonely and wildly unhappy person who, unlike Scarpia, keeps his promise, and loses like a gentleman. There is no perfectly good and no perfectly evil character in Fanciulla's universe.
The end of the opera is a true rarity in Puccini: a genuinely happy ending. No one dies, and Minnie and Ramerrez leave forever, not in despair or in a spirit of cynicism, but in one of hope for the future. The real climax of the opera comes in the miner Sonora's big moment near the end when he sings the now transformed Act 1 waltz tune as the miners, won over by Minnie's love and Ramerrez's genuine repentance, let them go to start a new life. For once, Puccini can bring tears to viewers eyes without killing off a soprano. It's a wonderfully cathartic moment.
The Metropolitan Opera DVD, recorded in April 1992, is a glorious performance of the opera. Leonard Slatkin, normally best-known as a symphonic rather than an operatic conductor, brings a freshness to a performance, not to mention performing some bits that are usually cut from performance (Sadly the extended version of the Act 2 tenor-soprano duet was not kept in). The production was originally meant to star Eva Marton, however, between the time that the production was planned and it was actually staged, Marton and the Met Opera management had a falling out, and she left the company for several years. Instead, Barbara Daniels, a singer not often recorded, plays the difficult role of Minnie. She manages the high-lying dramatic lines well, and portrays a tomboyish Minnie, fiercely protective of the miners and later, of Ramerrez.
Sherrill Milnes, near the end of his career here, is Jack Rance, authoritative and violent. But even Rance is human, and Milnes' portrayal of Rance's disbelieving shock of losing the poker game in Act 2 is shattering. The director, Gian-Carlo del Monaco, cannily has Rance be the first and last character seen onstage in the opera.
And Placido Domingo, age 51 at the time this was recorded, was in his late career prime. These performances may, in fact, have been the last performances of this opera that he ever sang: it's not an easy role. His tone is burnished, his high notes, while secure, are just slightly insecure enough to make the performance sound dangerous. (In fact, I believe in the radio broadcast of the opera, one of his high notes was muffed, so the sound of the video may have been fixed in the studio slightly).
Kim Josephson, who has gone on to sing the larger role of Rance elsewhere, is a friendly, mellifluous Sonora. Dwayne Croft, near the beginning of his career here is Larkens (he currently sings Sonora in the Met revival).
The sets and costumes by Michael Scott are very realistic and beautiful, making use of California's mountains and, in the final act, a ghost town. Del Monaco's production emphasizes, I think, the spirit of redemption heard throughout the opera.
I love La fanciulla del West. I think it's Puccini's best opera for reasons both musical and dramatic. By 1910, Puccini's skill at composing atmospheric orchestral and vocal music was greater than it had ever been. For an opera set in Gold Rush-era California, Puccini composed music evoking the vast open spaces of the new country--in the opening moments of Act 3, there are some notes from the brass that sound Coplandesque--although Aaron Copland himself, born in 1900, would have been in short pants at the time this opera was composed.
However, this music is unfairly neglected. After composing four operas (Manon Lescaut, La boheme, Tosca, Madama Butterfly) that seem to consist of almost nothing but one hit tune after another, he then composed five that had almost none: in Fanciulla del West, La rondine, Il tabarro, Suor Angelica, and Gianni Schicchi, there are maybe three famous arias: "Ch'ella me creda", "Che il bel sogno di Doretta", and "O mio babbino caro." Not until Turandot did Puccini become a hitmaker again.
The problem is, Fanciulla's arias are so connected with the drama that it's hard to sing them as separate excerpts: the tenor's Act 2 aria "Or son sei mesi" is, I am convinced, one of the most dramatic arias Puccini ever composed: its heartfelt anguish blows away the cheap tenorial whining in Cavaradossi's "E lucevan le stelle." (For the record, I really really hate Tosca.)
Certainly anyone who thinks Fanciulla is unmelodic should note the case of Mr. Andrew Lloyd Webber. The one and only good tune from his grotesque musical The Phantom of the Opera (the 'hook' from "Music of the Night") was taken directly from Fanciulla del West--it starts off as a waltz tune in Act 1, and turns into a love theme that is used to great effect in Acts 1 and 2, and eventually turned into an almost hymn-like tune of redemption and sadness in the final act. The Puccini estate quite rightly sued Webber (at the time, the opera was still under copyright) who paid an undisclosed settlement for his misuse of the melody Puccini created.
But enough of Andrew Lloyd Webber. Besides the music of Fanciulla del West, I also love the drama itself. The opera is occasionally compared to Tosca, and there are superficial similarities: the soprano loves the tenor, the tenor is in trouble, the baritone lusts after the soprano and wants to kill the tenor and, scarily, has the weight of the law on his side. But while Floria Tosca was a whiny little self-pitying brat, Minnie is a strong, independent woman who loves her friends and does her best to help and protect the people she loves. While Cavaradossi is a self-righteous artist (the worst sort of self-righteous person), Ramerrez is a criminal who recognize his evil deeds and is desperately trying to make himself a better person. While Scarpia is, essentially, a complete monster, Sheriff Jack Rance is a harsh, angry, lonely and wildly unhappy person who, unlike Scarpia, keeps his promise, and loses like a gentleman. There is no perfectly good and no perfectly evil character in Fanciulla's universe.
The end of the opera is a true rarity in Puccini: a genuinely happy ending. No one dies, and Minnie and Ramerrez leave forever, not in despair or in a spirit of cynicism, but in one of hope for the future. The real climax of the opera comes in the miner Sonora's big moment near the end when he sings the now transformed Act 1 waltz tune as the miners, won over by Minnie's love and Ramerrez's genuine repentance, let them go to start a new life. For once, Puccini can bring tears to viewers eyes without killing off a soprano. It's a wonderfully cathartic moment.
The Metropolitan Opera DVD, recorded in April 1992, is a glorious performance of the opera. Leonard Slatkin, normally best-known as a symphonic rather than an operatic conductor, brings a freshness to a performance, not to mention performing some bits that are usually cut from performance (Sadly the extended version of the Act 2 tenor-soprano duet was not kept in). The production was originally meant to star Eva Marton, however, between the time that the production was planned and it was actually staged, Marton and the Met Opera management had a falling out, and she left the company for several years. Instead, Barbara Daniels, a singer not often recorded, plays the difficult role of Minnie. She manages the high-lying dramatic lines well, and portrays a tomboyish Minnie, fiercely protective of the miners and later, of Ramerrez.
Sherrill Milnes, near the end of his career here, is Jack Rance, authoritative and violent. But even Rance is human, and Milnes' portrayal of Rance's disbelieving shock of losing the poker game in Act 2 is shattering. The director, Gian-Carlo del Monaco, cannily has Rance be the first and last character seen onstage in the opera.
And Placido Domingo, age 51 at the time this was recorded, was in his late career prime. These performances may, in fact, have been the last performances of this opera that he ever sang: it's not an easy role. His tone is burnished, his high notes, while secure, are just slightly insecure enough to make the performance sound dangerous. (In fact, I believe in the radio broadcast of the opera, one of his high notes was muffed, so the sound of the video may have been fixed in the studio slightly).
Kim Josephson, who has gone on to sing the larger role of Rance elsewhere, is a friendly, mellifluous Sonora. Dwayne Croft, near the beginning of his career here is Larkens (he currently sings Sonora in the Met revival).
The sets and costumes by Michael Scott are very realistic and beautiful, making use of California's mountains and, in the final act, a ghost town. Del Monaco's production emphasizes, I think, the spirit of redemption heard throughout the opera.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Madama Butterfly (San Francisco Opera), November 11
This performance marks my fifth opera attended in seven days. Even for someone who likes opera as much as I do, that's a bit much.
So, a moratorium on opera for me. No more opera attendance for one week. That'll show me.
So, Madama Butterfly. According to OPERA America's research, it is the most-frequently performed opera in the USA. It's also the most widely performed opera with American characters, although I doubt if patriotism is the reason for its popularity, as we don't come out of it looking all that well.
I've actually gone many years myself since I last saw Butterfly in the theatre. Not that I'm actively avoiding it, like I do Tosca. But I don't go out of my way to watch it.
San Francisco's current production of the opera is a revival of the well-known Harold Prince production. This production's (staged by Jose Maria Condemi) main conceit is the use of kuroko: the "invisible" stagehands dressed in black in full view of the audience. Additionally, the set (designer Clarke Dunham) is cleverly placed on a rotating stage, adding to the illusion that the opera is being performed in a house on a hill outside Nagasaki.
Kate Pinkerton actually comes off a bit more sympathetic than usual in this production, although B. F. is still a colossal jerk.
The Butterfly for this performance was Daniela Dessi, currently one of the top sopranos in this world in this particular repertoire. Early on in the opera, it sounded as though she were husbanding her resources--her entrance aria sounded rather tentative, though the love duet with Pinkerton was all right. "Un bel di" sounded a bit on the wan side, though "Che tua madre" and her death scene were very powerful.
Stefano Secco, heard last June as Gounod's Faust, was Pinkerton. He certainly sang all of Pinkerton's notes and portrayed his callow nature well, though the sound of his voice was a little thin to my taste. Daveda Karanas was a warm, ingratiating Suzuki, while Quinn Kelsey was a richly-sung, avuncular Sharpless.
The orchestra was conducted by Julian Kovatchev, a Bulgarian maestro making his debut in this production. The orchestra sounded just fine to me, particularly the one key moment for me: near the end, when Butterfly commands Suzuki to go outside and play with the child, there is a suddent, almost shocking orchestra fortissimo. Maestro Kovatchev sold that moment as well as I've ever heard it. The offstage chanting of the sailors during the Act II, Scene 2 Entr'acte was much quieter than I like, but that's purely a matter of personal taste.
The program notes reveal that he will be conducting this opera in Seattle (Seattle's next season hasn't been officially announced yet, but Butterfly is an easy guess, as it hasn't been performed there for a decade), so I guess I'll be hearing from him again soon.
So, a moratorium on opera for me. No more opera attendance for one week. That'll show me.
So, Madama Butterfly. According to OPERA America's research, it is the most-frequently performed opera in the USA. It's also the most widely performed opera with American characters, although I doubt if patriotism is the reason for its popularity, as we don't come out of it looking all that well.
I've actually gone many years myself since I last saw Butterfly in the theatre. Not that I'm actively avoiding it, like I do Tosca. But I don't go out of my way to watch it.
San Francisco's current production of the opera is a revival of the well-known Harold Prince production. This production's (staged by Jose Maria Condemi) main conceit is the use of kuroko: the "invisible" stagehands dressed in black in full view of the audience. Additionally, the set (designer Clarke Dunham) is cleverly placed on a rotating stage, adding to the illusion that the opera is being performed in a house on a hill outside Nagasaki.
Kate Pinkerton actually comes off a bit more sympathetic than usual in this production, although B. F. is still a colossal jerk.
The Butterfly for this performance was Daniela Dessi, currently one of the top sopranos in this world in this particular repertoire. Early on in the opera, it sounded as though she were husbanding her resources--her entrance aria sounded rather tentative, though the love duet with Pinkerton was all right. "Un bel di" sounded a bit on the wan side, though "Che tua madre" and her death scene were very powerful.
Stefano Secco, heard last June as Gounod's Faust, was Pinkerton. He certainly sang all of Pinkerton's notes and portrayed his callow nature well, though the sound of his voice was a little thin to my taste. Daveda Karanas was a warm, ingratiating Suzuki, while Quinn Kelsey was a richly-sung, avuncular Sharpless.
The orchestra was conducted by Julian Kovatchev, a Bulgarian maestro making his debut in this production. The orchestra sounded just fine to me, particularly the one key moment for me: near the end, when Butterfly commands Suzuki to go outside and play with the child, there is a suddent, almost shocking orchestra fortissimo. Maestro Kovatchev sold that moment as well as I've ever heard it. The offstage chanting of the sailors during the Act II, Scene 2 Entr'acte was much quieter than I like, but that's purely a matter of personal taste.
The program notes reveal that he will be conducting this opera in Seattle (Seattle's next season hasn't been officially announced yet, but Butterfly is an easy guess, as it hasn't been performed there for a decade), so I guess I'll be hearing from him again soon.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
The Makropulos Case (San Francisco Opera), November 10
Honestly, there's not a whole lot of genre operas. The vast majority are tragedies (often very melodramatic ones) or comedies (usually very farcical ones). There are some historical dramas, some fairytales, a tiny handful of horror stories... and believe it or not, some science fiction.
The Makropulos Case by Leos Janacek is probably the greatest of all Science Fiction operas. The work originated with one of the fathers of science fiction, Karel Capek, best-known today for taking the Czech word "robot" and applying it to mechanical men in his play R.U.R. In The Makropulos Case, Capek explored the practicalities of immortality and a fountain of youth. The original play was a comedy (and there are plenty of humorous moments in the opera), but while the original play had Emilia Marty/Elena Makropulos laugh off the destruction of the Makropulos formula and go to live off whatever years she had remaining as a regular mortal, Janacek devised a grander, a more operatic conclusion to the story: Emilia's death is a regular coup de theatre.
San Francisco Opera is a leading exponent of Janacek's opera, having staged the American premiere of the work in 1966, with major revivals in 1976 and 1993. San Francisco's Emilias have been Marie Collier, Anja Silja and Stephanie Sundine.
And now add Karita Mattila to the list. Miss Mattila has had an amazing career, from her victory at the first ever Cardiff Singer of the World competition in 1983. Now a veteran soprano, she has left behind many of the lyrical roles of her earlier career for more dramatic ones, particularly in the works of Strauss and Janacek. The Makropulos Case is Miss Mattila's third Janacek opera, and it's probably the right time in her career for it. The role requires a singer of some gravitas and experience (not to mention charisma), but also a singer with undiminished vocal agility, particularly for the high tessitura of her final scene.
I imagine that she will be singing the role everywhere in the near future. It suits her vocally, and it gives her a chance to be glamorous in a way that few operatic roles do.
In face, she will almost certainly be singing in this production again in the future: the new production was co-produced with the National Opera of her native Finland. Director Olivier Tambosi added some interesting touches to the staging: there were implications early on that Emilia can tell that her death is near--that there is something obviously wrong with her body. In a touch that I didn't particularly care for, in Act 2, she rolled around on the ground with Hauk-Sendorf. Yes, sure, he's one of her few good memories, but what's she trying to do, give the guy a heart attack?
Frank Philipp Schlossmann, the designer, set each of the three acts to one side of the rotating stage--the main feature on each set was a giant clock (incidentally, the clocks were set to the (correct) current local time). The law office featured huge bookshelves on a gleaming steel wall (I did get nervous as Vitek climbed up the ladder and sang--it was in exactly that position that Richard Versalle died onstage while singing the role of Vitek at the Met premiere of Makropulos in 1996). The second act featured some chairs and a dressing table in front of a black and silver curtain. The third act set consited of a bed at the foot of a curving corridor--the whole set looking like a pen and ink drawing featuring a lot of hatching.
The costumes were quite elegant, particularly Miss Mattila's. Her Act 1 and 3 dresses were diva-worthy. Oddly, in Act 2, she was costumed as Pierrot, which made me think that you could cast most of Lulu using the Makropulos cast: Emilia as Lulu, Gregor as the Painter, Prus as Dr. Schon, Kolenaty as Schigolch and Janek as Alwa. Although that leaves out Vitek and Krista, and who will be Geschwitz. But that's just silly talk.
Onto the singing: Mattila singing was strong and secure throughout, with her trademark lush tone. She's the rare diva who is a great artist who sings beautifully always. Gerd Grochowski, Baron Prus, while not particularly distinctive of voice, did present a menacing, dramatic figure throughout. It really would be interesing to hear his Dr. Schon. Miro Dvorsky sang Albert Gregor with a rather plaintive, character tenor sort of voice. Dale Travis as Dr. Kolenaty had one of the more difficult assignments in the opera: he has huge amounts of text to sing in not very much time. Though there's little chance for lyric beauty in the role, he did at least not bark.
Jiri Belohlavek coaxed some lovely string playing from the San Francisco Opera orchestra. I imagine that several of the instrumentalists are veterans from the last time the opera was produced, when the orchestra was conducted by the late Sir Charles Mackerras, well-known as a Janacek expert, in whose memory the new production was dedicated.
The Makropulos Case by Leos Janacek is probably the greatest of all Science Fiction operas. The work originated with one of the fathers of science fiction, Karel Capek, best-known today for taking the Czech word "robot" and applying it to mechanical men in his play R.U.R. In The Makropulos Case, Capek explored the practicalities of immortality and a fountain of youth. The original play was a comedy (and there are plenty of humorous moments in the opera), but while the original play had Emilia Marty/Elena Makropulos laugh off the destruction of the Makropulos formula and go to live off whatever years she had remaining as a regular mortal, Janacek devised a grander, a more operatic conclusion to the story: Emilia's death is a regular coup de theatre.
San Francisco Opera is a leading exponent of Janacek's opera, having staged the American premiere of the work in 1966, with major revivals in 1976 and 1993. San Francisco's Emilias have been Marie Collier, Anja Silja and Stephanie Sundine.
And now add Karita Mattila to the list. Miss Mattila has had an amazing career, from her victory at the first ever Cardiff Singer of the World competition in 1983. Now a veteran soprano, she has left behind many of the lyrical roles of her earlier career for more dramatic ones, particularly in the works of Strauss and Janacek. The Makropulos Case is Miss Mattila's third Janacek opera, and it's probably the right time in her career for it. The role requires a singer of some gravitas and experience (not to mention charisma), but also a singer with undiminished vocal agility, particularly for the high tessitura of her final scene.
I imagine that she will be singing the role everywhere in the near future. It suits her vocally, and it gives her a chance to be glamorous in a way that few operatic roles do.
In face, she will almost certainly be singing in this production again in the future: the new production was co-produced with the National Opera of her native Finland. Director Olivier Tambosi added some interesting touches to the staging: there were implications early on that Emilia can tell that her death is near--that there is something obviously wrong with her body. In a touch that I didn't particularly care for, in Act 2, she rolled around on the ground with Hauk-Sendorf. Yes, sure, he's one of her few good memories, but what's she trying to do, give the guy a heart attack?
Frank Philipp Schlossmann, the designer, set each of the three acts to one side of the rotating stage--the main feature on each set was a giant clock (incidentally, the clocks were set to the (correct) current local time). The law office featured huge bookshelves on a gleaming steel wall (I did get nervous as Vitek climbed up the ladder and sang--it was in exactly that position that Richard Versalle died onstage while singing the role of Vitek at the Met premiere of Makropulos in 1996). The second act featured some chairs and a dressing table in front of a black and silver curtain. The third act set consited of a bed at the foot of a curving corridor--the whole set looking like a pen and ink drawing featuring a lot of hatching.
The costumes were quite elegant, particularly Miss Mattila's. Her Act 1 and 3 dresses were diva-worthy. Oddly, in Act 2, she was costumed as Pierrot, which made me think that you could cast most of Lulu using the Makropulos cast: Emilia as Lulu, Gregor as the Painter, Prus as Dr. Schon, Kolenaty as Schigolch and Janek as Alwa. Although that leaves out Vitek and Krista, and who will be Geschwitz. But that's just silly talk.
Onto the singing: Mattila singing was strong and secure throughout, with her trademark lush tone. She's the rare diva who is a great artist who sings beautifully always. Gerd Grochowski, Baron Prus, while not particularly distinctive of voice, did present a menacing, dramatic figure throughout. It really would be interesing to hear his Dr. Schon. Miro Dvorsky sang Albert Gregor with a rather plaintive, character tenor sort of voice. Dale Travis as Dr. Kolenaty had one of the more difficult assignments in the opera: he has huge amounts of text to sing in not very much time. Though there's little chance for lyric beauty in the role, he did at least not bark.
Jiri Belohlavek coaxed some lovely string playing from the San Francisco Opera orchestra. I imagine that several of the instrumentalists are veterans from the last time the opera was produced, when the orchestra was conducted by the late Sir Charles Mackerras, well-known as a Janacek expert, in whose memory the new production was dedicated.
Cyrano de Bergerac (San Francisco Opera), November 9
Time for me to wax nostalgic. Fortunately, I received a case of Nostalgia Wax for my most recent birthday.
December 1990 was when I first attended the opera: that means I am just shy of having my 20th anniversary as a full-fledged opera fan.
1990, you'll remember, was also the year that a famous concert took place at the Baths of Caracalla, Rome. While the "Three Tenors" concerts would eventually turn practically into self-parody, the original concert featured some fine singing, and good-natured camaraderie between Luciano Pavarotti, Jose Carreras and Placido Domingo.
At the time, I had heard of all three singers before, but assumed that, since he was the most famous, Pavarotti had to be the best. However, after watching the tape time and time again, I realized that Domingo, with his rich, almost baritonal tenor, was my favorite of the three.
Twenty years later: Pavarotti has passed away. Carreras is still singing, although I haven't heard of him performing on stage. And Domingo is still going strong. Lucky for me, because, although I've heard him in recording after recording, broadcast after broadcast, video after video... I never was able to see him perform in person.
However, I was very happy to learn that San Francisco Opera's Fall 2010 season would include Maestro Domingo, for the first time since 1994, in the title role of Cyrano de Bergerac. And so I finally got my chance to hear my favorite living tenor.
Now Cyrano is not a commonly-performed opera--at least, it wasn't until about five years ago or so. Premiered in 1935, it was almost totally forgotten until Domingo started persuading opera companies to stage it. And Domingo is maybe the one singer in the world who has enough clout, box-office and otherwise, to have works staged for him.
Franco Alfano, the composer, is best-known for his usually-excerpted completion of Turandot, though he composer a number of other operas, notably Risurrezione and La legenda de Sakuntala. Alfano composes in a refined, chromatic idiom that seems more indebted to Massenet than to Puccini. Appropriate then that Alfano should take a French subject, with a French libretto, and a librettist, Henri Cain, who also provided several libretti for Massenet. The opera is a straightforward adaptation of Rostand's play, though with much of the detail removed.
San Francisco Opera's production of the opera was originally staged by the Theatre du Chatelet in Paris, and very lavishly too, it would seem (sets by Petrika Ionesco). The first act, set backstage in a theatre presents a theatre with wonderful 17th-century stage equipment and costumes, while Ragueneau’s bake shop in the second act is equally as opulent. Spectacular cavalier costumes all around: the opera looked great (costumes by Lili Kendaka).
The staging, also by Petrika Ionesco, was a bit confusing at times: it was easy to mix characters up (Anthony Burgess had the right idea when he fused Carbon and Le Bret into a single character. Still, the staging of the two key scenes--the balcony scene and Cyrano's death--were simple and effective.
And with the singers, starting at the top: this is a great role for Placido Domingo, which suits his voice and theatrical temperament perfectly. Even twenty years ago, he had some trouble with the high notes: Cyrano has a lower tessitura and shows off his golden tone and mastery of legato. He also did a fine job acting the role of the emotionally fragile swordsman.
Soprano Ainhoa Arteta who, it could be said, was a Domingo discovery, was the lovely Roxane, singing with a strong spinto soprano. Christian is a tenor in this opera (it makes sense--otherwise, in the balcony scene, how could Roxane believe that Cyrano is Christian?) Christian was played by Thiago Arancam: well-cast in that he cut a handsome figure onstage and because his tenor has some of the same rich, baritonal qualities as Domingo's.
Of the large remaining cast, the one singer who made the biggest impression was Stephen Powell as De Guiche. Powell was convincing as a truly nasty villain as well as his change of heart late in the third act. He has a fine baritone. The conductor, making his San Francisco debut in this production was Patrick Fournillier.
December 1990 was when I first attended the opera: that means I am just shy of having my 20th anniversary as a full-fledged opera fan.
1990, you'll remember, was also the year that a famous concert took place at the Baths of Caracalla, Rome. While the "Three Tenors" concerts would eventually turn practically into self-parody, the original concert featured some fine singing, and good-natured camaraderie between Luciano Pavarotti, Jose Carreras and Placido Domingo.
At the time, I had heard of all three singers before, but assumed that, since he was the most famous, Pavarotti had to be the best. However, after watching the tape time and time again, I realized that Domingo, with his rich, almost baritonal tenor, was my favorite of the three.
Twenty years later: Pavarotti has passed away. Carreras is still singing, although I haven't heard of him performing on stage. And Domingo is still going strong. Lucky for me, because, although I've heard him in recording after recording, broadcast after broadcast, video after video... I never was able to see him perform in person.
However, I was very happy to learn that San Francisco Opera's Fall 2010 season would include Maestro Domingo, for the first time since 1994, in the title role of Cyrano de Bergerac. And so I finally got my chance to hear my favorite living tenor.
Now Cyrano is not a commonly-performed opera--at least, it wasn't until about five years ago or so. Premiered in 1935, it was almost totally forgotten until Domingo started persuading opera companies to stage it. And Domingo is maybe the one singer in the world who has enough clout, box-office and otherwise, to have works staged for him.
Franco Alfano, the composer, is best-known for his usually-excerpted completion of Turandot, though he composer a number of other operas, notably Risurrezione and La legenda de Sakuntala. Alfano composes in a refined, chromatic idiom that seems more indebted to Massenet than to Puccini. Appropriate then that Alfano should take a French subject, with a French libretto, and a librettist, Henri Cain, who also provided several libretti for Massenet. The opera is a straightforward adaptation of Rostand's play, though with much of the detail removed.
San Francisco Opera's production of the opera was originally staged by the Theatre du Chatelet in Paris, and very lavishly too, it would seem (sets by Petrika Ionesco). The first act, set backstage in a theatre presents a theatre with wonderful 17th-century stage equipment and costumes, while Ragueneau’s bake shop in the second act is equally as opulent. Spectacular cavalier costumes all around: the opera looked great (costumes by Lili Kendaka).
The staging, also by Petrika Ionesco, was a bit confusing at times: it was easy to mix characters up (Anthony Burgess had the right idea when he fused Carbon and Le Bret into a single character. Still, the staging of the two key scenes--the balcony scene and Cyrano's death--were simple and effective.
And with the singers, starting at the top: this is a great role for Placido Domingo, which suits his voice and theatrical temperament perfectly. Even twenty years ago, he had some trouble with the high notes: Cyrano has a lower tessitura and shows off his golden tone and mastery of legato. He also did a fine job acting the role of the emotionally fragile swordsman.
Soprano Ainhoa Arteta who, it could be said, was a Domingo discovery, was the lovely Roxane, singing with a strong spinto soprano. Christian is a tenor in this opera (it makes sense--otherwise, in the balcony scene, how could Roxane believe that Cyrano is Christian?) Christian was played by Thiago Arancam: well-cast in that he cut a handsome figure onstage and because his tenor has some of the same rich, baritonal qualities as Domingo's.
Of the large remaining cast, the one singer who made the biggest impression was Stephen Powell as De Guiche. Powell was convincing as a truly nasty villain as well as his change of heart late in the third act. He has a fine baritone. The conductor, making his San Francisco debut in this production was Patrick Fournillier.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Hansel and Gretel (Portland Opera), November 7
There's two ways to present a fairy tale: the saccharine way and the Roald Dahl way. The saccharine way involves bowdlerizing the story, removing any content that a prudish adult might find objectionable, and adapting it for the zeitgeist.
The Roald Dahl way--well, I shouldn't call it that. Roald Dahl was not the first to write gruesome stories for children, and he wasn't the last, either. But it's a useful name to call it: when I say 'Roald Dahl', it conjures up images of horror, and children in dangerous situations, right? (If you don't recognize the name, please read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, The Witches, Matilda, James and the Giant Peach, and The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar.)
For many, many years, Engelbert Humperdinck's Hansel and Gretel was subjected to the saccharine stagings: it was an excuse to put a giant gingerbread house on stage, put a mezzo in a pair of lederhosen, and recycle the local ballet company's props from The Nutcracker. But more recently, it's getting reimagined, and the Richard Jones production of the work currently being shown in Portland, previously seen in New York, at the Welsh National Opera, and other companies, is already the most famous reimagining.
Jones presents this opera as being about that most primal drive: for food. Hansel and Gretel's family is starving, and there are references in the text throughout to their hunger complaints, their desire to eat, and so on. Perhaps the point is laid on a bit thick (as the overture plays, a drop featuring a picture of an empty plate is spotlit), but it's certainly a valid point for the director to make.
The first act is set in a tiny, barren, but modern house, using only a fraction of the proscenium--most of it is curtained off. While Hansel (Sandra Piques Eddy) and Gretel's (Maureen McKay) hijinks are not all that different from a conventional production, the mother's (Elizabeth Byrne) anger at the children is all the most disturbing from being similar to public scenes that most of us have seen of parents on the edge disciplining their children in public. When the father (Weston Hurt) returns his drunkenness (and fit of anger where he threatens to hit his wife) are also disturbingly modern and all of a piece of our time.
The second act is set in a barren room: the only trees to be seen are a handful of supers dressed up as trees. There is also a long dining room table in the middle of the set. The Sandman (Daryl Freedman) is a creepy puppet manipulated by its singer, and when the siblings sing their famous prayer, rather than a vision of angels, they receive a vision of fourteen chefs presenting a gala dinner to the two poor children.
The witch's den in the final act is the creepiest set of all: an industrial kitchen, it looks similar to what you might imagine a serial killer's den to be like--that is, after all, what this opera's witch (Allan Glassman) is. Ultimately, the cake that the witch is baked into is eaten by all and sundry--I rather doubt that cannibalism is the usual end of this opera.
It's a very clever, very interesting production, and it really works in making the story a little scary again.
The Gretel of this production is as unconventional as the production itself: Miss McKay's portrayal is that of a massive tomboy, unlike the goody two-shoes portrayal the character is sometimes saddled with. Miss Eddy's Hansel is almost surprisingly boyish--at the end, it's surprising how easily she fits in with the boys of the children's chorus. Both sang well.
Miss Byrne, a soprano with serious Wagner experience was very musical, accurate, and dramatic as the mother. Mr. Hurt's drunkenness was realistic without any of the vaudevillian about it.
Stealing the show was Mr. Glassman as the witch, who was got up like a cross between Julia Child and Ignatius J. Reilly. Though I think casting a tenor in the role is a little gimmicky, and I believe a mezzo can bring a sense of urgency to the witch's music that a tenor can't, I certainly can't say anything against Mr. Glassman's performance.
In their cameo roles, Miss Freedman was scary as the Sandman, while Jennifer Forni seemed to be channeling the recently-deceased Barbara Billingsley as a Dew Fairy looking like a 50's TV sitcome housewife.
The production, originally by Richard Jones was staged locally by Benjamin Davis, using John Macfarlane's designs. Conductor Ari Pelto played up the Wagnerian music in the work, but did not drown out the singers.
The Roald Dahl way--well, I shouldn't call it that. Roald Dahl was not the first to write gruesome stories for children, and he wasn't the last, either. But it's a useful name to call it: when I say 'Roald Dahl', it conjures up images of horror, and children in dangerous situations, right? (If you don't recognize the name, please read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, The Witches, Matilda, James and the Giant Peach, and The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar.)
For many, many years, Engelbert Humperdinck's Hansel and Gretel was subjected to the saccharine stagings: it was an excuse to put a giant gingerbread house on stage, put a mezzo in a pair of lederhosen, and recycle the local ballet company's props from The Nutcracker. But more recently, it's getting reimagined, and the Richard Jones production of the work currently being shown in Portland, previously seen in New York, at the Welsh National Opera, and other companies, is already the most famous reimagining.
Jones presents this opera as being about that most primal drive: for food. Hansel and Gretel's family is starving, and there are references in the text throughout to their hunger complaints, their desire to eat, and so on. Perhaps the point is laid on a bit thick (as the overture plays, a drop featuring a picture of an empty plate is spotlit), but it's certainly a valid point for the director to make.
The first act is set in a tiny, barren, but modern house, using only a fraction of the proscenium--most of it is curtained off. While Hansel (Sandra Piques Eddy) and Gretel's (Maureen McKay) hijinks are not all that different from a conventional production, the mother's (Elizabeth Byrne) anger at the children is all the most disturbing from being similar to public scenes that most of us have seen of parents on the edge disciplining their children in public. When the father (Weston Hurt) returns his drunkenness (and fit of anger where he threatens to hit his wife) are also disturbingly modern and all of a piece of our time.
The second act is set in a barren room: the only trees to be seen are a handful of supers dressed up as trees. There is also a long dining room table in the middle of the set. The Sandman (Daryl Freedman) is a creepy puppet manipulated by its singer, and when the siblings sing their famous prayer, rather than a vision of angels, they receive a vision of fourteen chefs presenting a gala dinner to the two poor children.
The witch's den in the final act is the creepiest set of all: an industrial kitchen, it looks similar to what you might imagine a serial killer's den to be like--that is, after all, what this opera's witch (Allan Glassman) is. Ultimately, the cake that the witch is baked into is eaten by all and sundry--I rather doubt that cannibalism is the usual end of this opera.
It's a very clever, very interesting production, and it really works in making the story a little scary again.
The Gretel of this production is as unconventional as the production itself: Miss McKay's portrayal is that of a massive tomboy, unlike the goody two-shoes portrayal the character is sometimes saddled with. Miss Eddy's Hansel is almost surprisingly boyish--at the end, it's surprising how easily she fits in with the boys of the children's chorus. Both sang well.
Miss Byrne, a soprano with serious Wagner experience was very musical, accurate, and dramatic as the mother. Mr. Hurt's drunkenness was realistic without any of the vaudevillian about it.
Stealing the show was Mr. Glassman as the witch, who was got up like a cross between Julia Child and Ignatius J. Reilly. Though I think casting a tenor in the role is a little gimmicky, and I believe a mezzo can bring a sense of urgency to the witch's music that a tenor can't, I certainly can't say anything against Mr. Glassman's performance.
In their cameo roles, Miss Freedman was scary as the Sandman, while Jennifer Forni seemed to be channeling the recently-deceased Barbara Billingsley as a Dew Fairy looking like a 50's TV sitcome housewife.
The production, originally by Richard Jones was staged locally by Benjamin Davis, using John Macfarlane's designs. Conductor Ari Pelto played up the Wagnerian music in the work, but did not drown out the singers.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
The Elixir of Love, Tacoma Opera (November 5)
There are few operatic comedies as sweet as Donizetti's Elixir of Love. While most operatic romantic comedies are about a pair of lovers who others (usually a vain old man) stand in the middle of, Elixir is a simple story about Nemorino, a simple boy (very simple) who is desperately in love with a girl, Adina, who thinks he's a nice guy, but she really isn't interested in him. Then Adina is swept off her feet by a smooth-talking man in uniform, Belcore. Adina can tell Belcore is a dimbulb, but he makes her laugh, and he's a lot more fun to be around than Mr. Simple Earnest Nemorino.
Up to this point, the plot to Elixir sounds like virtually every modern romantic comedy. So, it's time to add the wild-card: the charlatan snake-oil salesman, Dulcamara, who is happy to peddle the title love potion to Nemorino, parting the fool from his money. Through the deus ex machina of a rich uncle dying, Nemorino suddenly becomes irresistible to the village women, which makes Adina jealous, which brings the plot to its happy ending.
A silly plot, but one that works: Nemorino is one of the all-around nicest characters in all of opera, and because of that, the audience wants him to get his love--he's certainly more sympathetic than, say, the rather obnoxious and at times abusive Count Almaviva in The Barber of Seville. Adina is also deeper than most characters of her genre: she knows that she has a petty streak, but she's not bad, and she genuinely wants Nemorino to be happy--even though she thinks he shouldn't be happy with *her*. Okay, Belcore is a ridiculous buffoon, and Dulcamara is a typical buffo patter role, but the main pair is one of the best couples in all opera.
Elixir works well as a small-scale opera, so it was a good choice for the annual Rialto Theater production for Tacoma Opera (the season's other mainstage Tacoma Opera production is in the larger Pantages). The production, by Christopher Nardine, was updated to post-WWII Italy, perhaps in the 50's or 60's. Rather than peasant garb, Nemorino wears clamdiggers, most of the men have scarves tied rakishly around their necks, and Dulcamara has a zoot suit (costumes by Kathleen Anderson). Apart from the costumes, there weren't any particularly radical touches in the staging, apart from characters occasionally interacting with the orchestra (who are onstage, as the Rialto has no orchestra pit), and the audience (Dulcamara makes his initial entrance from the aisle).
Nemorino is by far the most important role in any production of Elixir: he is onstage for nearly the entire opera, has two major arias, and is in most of the ensembles. In Tacoma, he was played by Marcus Shelton as a bit of a nerd who knows nothing about women, but who desperately wants to be loved. Shelton's voice sounds made for bel canto: it gets louder and has more squillo the higher it goes. He brings the kind of prosciutto necessary for his drunken scenes.
Megan Hart, in her first Tacoma Opera performance, was Adina. Her characterization was kind and gentle, but cruel when necessary. High notes held no terrors for her, as she appeared to take every high note option in the score. While Adina is generally played by piping soubrette sopranos, Miss Hart's soprano had a rich, almost fruity sound that was most pleasing.
Tacoma Opera veteran Barry Johnson, last heard by this reviewer as the Steersman in Seattle Opera's Tristan und Isolde, was Belcore. He was a sergeant without troops in an over-the-top fancy uniform, and looked like a young Ned Beatty. His vocal highlight was the "Venti Scudi" duet with Nemorino, though in his first act appearances, he did not make much of an impression--although that is more the fault of Donizetti.
Charles Robert Austin, who first appeared with Tacoma Opera as Mephistopheles in the 2009 Faust production played the completely different role of Dulcamara. He was clearly having a good time as the swindler, though he did not appear to be in the best voice: in his first act patter song, he sang many of his lines an octave lower, some parts being inaudible.
Giannetta, one of the girls in the village was played by Megan Chenovick with charm and a sweet soprano. The chorus was boisterous, well-prepared, and clearly having a great time onstage. The tiny orchestra of 13 players, in a reduced orchestration prepared by conductor Bernard Kwiram, produced a surprisingly full sound, certainly adequate for the tiny auditorium. Kwiram kept a good balance between singers and orchestra and led at a good brisk pace.
Up to this point, the plot to Elixir sounds like virtually every modern romantic comedy. So, it's time to add the wild-card: the charlatan snake-oil salesman, Dulcamara, who is happy to peddle the title love potion to Nemorino, parting the fool from his money. Through the deus ex machina of a rich uncle dying, Nemorino suddenly becomes irresistible to the village women, which makes Adina jealous, which brings the plot to its happy ending.
A silly plot, but one that works: Nemorino is one of the all-around nicest characters in all of opera, and because of that, the audience wants him to get his love--he's certainly more sympathetic than, say, the rather obnoxious and at times abusive Count Almaviva in The Barber of Seville. Adina is also deeper than most characters of her genre: she knows that she has a petty streak, but she's not bad, and she genuinely wants Nemorino to be happy--even though she thinks he shouldn't be happy with *her*. Okay, Belcore is a ridiculous buffoon, and Dulcamara is a typical buffo patter role, but the main pair is one of the best couples in all opera.
Elixir works well as a small-scale opera, so it was a good choice for the annual Rialto Theater production for Tacoma Opera (the season's other mainstage Tacoma Opera production is in the larger Pantages). The production, by Christopher Nardine, was updated to post-WWII Italy, perhaps in the 50's or 60's. Rather than peasant garb, Nemorino wears clamdiggers, most of the men have scarves tied rakishly around their necks, and Dulcamara has a zoot suit (costumes by Kathleen Anderson). Apart from the costumes, there weren't any particularly radical touches in the staging, apart from characters occasionally interacting with the orchestra (who are onstage, as the Rialto has no orchestra pit), and the audience (Dulcamara makes his initial entrance from the aisle).
Nemorino is by far the most important role in any production of Elixir: he is onstage for nearly the entire opera, has two major arias, and is in most of the ensembles. In Tacoma, he was played by Marcus Shelton as a bit of a nerd who knows nothing about women, but who desperately wants to be loved. Shelton's voice sounds made for bel canto: it gets louder and has more squillo the higher it goes. He brings the kind of prosciutto necessary for his drunken scenes.
Megan Hart, in her first Tacoma Opera performance, was Adina. Her characterization was kind and gentle, but cruel when necessary. High notes held no terrors for her, as she appeared to take every high note option in the score. While Adina is generally played by piping soubrette sopranos, Miss Hart's soprano had a rich, almost fruity sound that was most pleasing.
Tacoma Opera veteran Barry Johnson, last heard by this reviewer as the Steersman in Seattle Opera's Tristan und Isolde, was Belcore. He was a sergeant without troops in an over-the-top fancy uniform, and looked like a young Ned Beatty. His vocal highlight was the "Venti Scudi" duet with Nemorino, though in his first act appearances, he did not make much of an impression--although that is more the fault of Donizetti.
Charles Robert Austin, who first appeared with Tacoma Opera as Mephistopheles in the 2009 Faust production played the completely different role of Dulcamara. He was clearly having a good time as the swindler, though he did not appear to be in the best voice: in his first act patter song, he sang many of his lines an octave lower, some parts being inaudible.
Giannetta, one of the girls in the village was played by Megan Chenovick with charm and a sweet soprano. The chorus was boisterous, well-prepared, and clearly having a great time onstage. The tiny orchestra of 13 players, in a reduced orchestration prepared by conductor Bernard Kwiram, produced a surprisingly full sound, certainly adequate for the tiny auditorium. Kwiram kept a good balance between singers and orchestra and led at a good brisk pace.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Lucia di Lammermoor, Seattle Opera (October 16)
No opera fan loves every opera. All fans have some weak spot, some kind of opera which is like kryptonite to them.
For me, it used to be dramatic bel canto opera. I was just fine with the comic ones, the Barbers of Seville and Elixirs of Love, but there was just something ridiculous about the serious ones that annoyed me.
That certainly is not the case in Seattle Opera's magnificent new Lucia di Lammermoor, which succeeds on every level, a near-total triumph to a degree that astonishes me. It's a brilliant night at the opera.
Seattle's last bel canto opera was Bellini's I puritani back in 2008. The performance I attended back then was notable for Lawrence Brownlee's exceptional vocalism (including an unbelievable high F) and basically nothing else. So last night, before the performance began, I noticed a disquieting note in the program booklet. "Set design adapted by Robert A. Dahlstrom from Seattle Opera's 2008 I puritani." Back in 2008, I hated that set. I'm not a fan of unit sets in general, which sucks for me, because the new economic reality of opera means more and more operas will have them. But now? A unit set not only for one opera, but two? I steeled myself for a lousy night at McCaw Hall.
Boy was I wrong.
Let's start with the title role: From Poland, soprano Aleksandra Kurzak made her debut, not only with Seattle Opera, but in the role of Lucia. She was absolutely first-rate. Her voice sounded made-to-order, not just for the role, but for the house: some singers' voices become lost in the spacious hall when singing piano, but not Miss Kurzak's. Even her softest singing filled the house. Her coloratura was clear and agile, her acting was vivid, and she was a beautiful figure on stage. Her arias and mad scene were magnificent and brought the house down.
William Burden, last seen in Seattle in the World Premiere production of Amelia in May, sang Edgardo: I suspect it may have been a role debut for him as well, although there was nothing about that in the program. Frequently, Edgardo is played by more dramatic tenors: Richard Tucker and Placido Domingo are two of the heavier-voiced tenors to be well-known in the part. Burden's lyric tenor was suited to the role and the production well. His death scene was spellbinding, and his singing throughout was bright and refined. He was also a handsome and romantic figure onstage, as if he had stepped right out of the works of Sir Walter Scott.
Lucia's brother Enrico was played by another singer new to Seattle, baritone Ljubomir Puskaric from Croatia. While, as the designated heavy of the piece, he doesn't get as many chances to shine as the leads, he did have several chances to show off his brilliant, clarion high notes.
Arthur Woodley, who played the pastor Raimondo, has been a mainstay at Seattle Opera for over a decade, generally in roles that are too small to be considered principal, but too large to be comprimario: Ferrando in Il trovatore and Bartolo in Nozze di Figaro, for instance. Raimondo, however, is a bonafide principal role, and Woodley was a tower of strength in it, his limber and beautiful bass voice a pleasure to hear in Raimondo's big solo moments. This was the general opinion of the audience, as Woodley deservedly got one of the biggest ovations of the night.
The three smaller roles were all taken by Seattle Opera Young Artists in their mainstage debuts: Normanno was Eric Neuville, Alisa was Lindsey Anderson, and the amusingly smug Arturo was Andrew Stenson. All acquitted themselves well, as did the chorus, appearing onstage for the first time since last March's Falstaff (Amelia had no chorus at all, Tristan und Isolde had men's chorus only, kept offstage).
The conductor, making his Seattle Opera debut was Bruno Cinquegrani from Naples, Italy. The singers and orchestra seemed to be well synchronized and in good balance. If one of the reasons we could hear Miss Kurzak's softest singing was because he kept the orchestra down, well then, bravo to him!
Now, a musically excellent performance was not a surprise to me. What was a surprise was the dramatic excellence. Yes, the old I puritani set--a series of cast-iron catwalks and staircases--loomed over the stage for the entire performance. However, director Tomer Zvulun (from Tel Aviv) and American designer Dahlstrom created a performance area in front of the iron construction which used a minimum of set decoration to create distinctly different scenes. A conceit of the production was that Lucia was haunted from the beginning, and the production used scrims, the many catwalks, clever lighting effects (lighting designer Robert Wierzel), and numerous supernumeraries and actors to show ghosts either reenacting horrors of the past, or perhaps simply predicting Lucia's future fate. Presumably Wierzel was also reponsible for the cloud animation that appeared on the curtain before the performance, during intermissions and scene changes--it set a nice Sturm und Drang vibe for the whole performance. Deborah Trout's costume designs avoided the traditional, anachronistic kilts: the costumes seemed to be set during the time period of the opera's composition.
Costume design and lighting design came together in an extraordinary way during the mad scene: the lighting seemed to wash out any of the colors in the costumes of the chorus and other singers, leaving them appearing monochromatic, causing the blood on Lucia's clothes to jump out in comparison.
It was a wonderful night at the opera. Was it perfect? No. Am I going to tell you about the imperfections? Also no, because frankly, considering the overall excellence of the performance, any imperfections are not worth mentioning.
Further performances with this cast are on Wednesday the 20th, Saturday the 23rd (which will also be broadcast on KING FM), Wednesday the 27th, and Saturday the 30th. The alternate cast (Davinia Rodriguez as Lucia, Scott Piper as Edgardo and Philip Cutlip as Enrico, all other cast members the same) will perform on Sunday the 17th and 24th (both matinee performances) and Friday the 29th.
I'm going to go again, myself. Two more times, if possible. Because a performance like this is what opera should be.
For me, it used to be dramatic bel canto opera. I was just fine with the comic ones, the Barbers of Seville and Elixirs of Love, but there was just something ridiculous about the serious ones that annoyed me.
That certainly is not the case in Seattle Opera's magnificent new Lucia di Lammermoor, which succeeds on every level, a near-total triumph to a degree that astonishes me. It's a brilliant night at the opera.
Seattle's last bel canto opera was Bellini's I puritani back in 2008. The performance I attended back then was notable for Lawrence Brownlee's exceptional vocalism (including an unbelievable high F) and basically nothing else. So last night, before the performance began, I noticed a disquieting note in the program booklet. "Set design adapted by Robert A. Dahlstrom from Seattle Opera's 2008 I puritani." Back in 2008, I hated that set. I'm not a fan of unit sets in general, which sucks for me, because the new economic reality of opera means more and more operas will have them. But now? A unit set not only for one opera, but two? I steeled myself for a lousy night at McCaw Hall.
Boy was I wrong.
Let's start with the title role: From Poland, soprano Aleksandra Kurzak made her debut, not only with Seattle Opera, but in the role of Lucia. She was absolutely first-rate. Her voice sounded made-to-order, not just for the role, but for the house: some singers' voices become lost in the spacious hall when singing piano, but not Miss Kurzak's. Even her softest singing filled the house. Her coloratura was clear and agile, her acting was vivid, and she was a beautiful figure on stage. Her arias and mad scene were magnificent and brought the house down.
William Burden, last seen in Seattle in the World Premiere production of Amelia in May, sang Edgardo: I suspect it may have been a role debut for him as well, although there was nothing about that in the program. Frequently, Edgardo is played by more dramatic tenors: Richard Tucker and Placido Domingo are two of the heavier-voiced tenors to be well-known in the part. Burden's lyric tenor was suited to the role and the production well. His death scene was spellbinding, and his singing throughout was bright and refined. He was also a handsome and romantic figure onstage, as if he had stepped right out of the works of Sir Walter Scott.
Lucia's brother Enrico was played by another singer new to Seattle, baritone Ljubomir Puskaric from Croatia. While, as the designated heavy of the piece, he doesn't get as many chances to shine as the leads, he did have several chances to show off his brilliant, clarion high notes.
Arthur Woodley, who played the pastor Raimondo, has been a mainstay at Seattle Opera for over a decade, generally in roles that are too small to be considered principal, but too large to be comprimario: Ferrando in Il trovatore and Bartolo in Nozze di Figaro, for instance. Raimondo, however, is a bonafide principal role, and Woodley was a tower of strength in it, his limber and beautiful bass voice a pleasure to hear in Raimondo's big solo moments. This was the general opinion of the audience, as Woodley deservedly got one of the biggest ovations of the night.
The three smaller roles were all taken by Seattle Opera Young Artists in their mainstage debuts: Normanno was Eric Neuville, Alisa was Lindsey Anderson, and the amusingly smug Arturo was Andrew Stenson. All acquitted themselves well, as did the chorus, appearing onstage for the first time since last March's Falstaff (Amelia had no chorus at all, Tristan und Isolde had men's chorus only, kept offstage).
The conductor, making his Seattle Opera debut was Bruno Cinquegrani from Naples, Italy. The singers and orchestra seemed to be well synchronized and in good balance. If one of the reasons we could hear Miss Kurzak's softest singing was because he kept the orchestra down, well then, bravo to him!
Now, a musically excellent performance was not a surprise to me. What was a surprise was the dramatic excellence. Yes, the old I puritani set--a series of cast-iron catwalks and staircases--loomed over the stage for the entire performance. However, director Tomer Zvulun (from Tel Aviv) and American designer Dahlstrom created a performance area in front of the iron construction which used a minimum of set decoration to create distinctly different scenes. A conceit of the production was that Lucia was haunted from the beginning, and the production used scrims, the many catwalks, clever lighting effects (lighting designer Robert Wierzel), and numerous supernumeraries and actors to show ghosts either reenacting horrors of the past, or perhaps simply predicting Lucia's future fate. Presumably Wierzel was also reponsible for the cloud animation that appeared on the curtain before the performance, during intermissions and scene changes--it set a nice Sturm und Drang vibe for the whole performance. Deborah Trout's costume designs avoided the traditional, anachronistic kilts: the costumes seemed to be set during the time period of the opera's composition.
Costume design and lighting design came together in an extraordinary way during the mad scene: the lighting seemed to wash out any of the colors in the costumes of the chorus and other singers, leaving them appearing monochromatic, causing the blood on Lucia's clothes to jump out in comparison.
It was a wonderful night at the opera. Was it perfect? No. Am I going to tell you about the imperfections? Also no, because frankly, considering the overall excellence of the performance, any imperfections are not worth mentioning.
Further performances with this cast are on Wednesday the 20th, Saturday the 23rd (which will also be broadcast on KING FM), Wednesday the 27th, and Saturday the 30th. The alternate cast (Davinia Rodriguez as Lucia, Scott Piper as Edgardo and Philip Cutlip as Enrico, all other cast members the same) will perform on Sunday the 17th and 24th (both matinee performances) and Friday the 29th.
I'm going to go again, myself. Two more times, if possible. Because a performance like this is what opera should be.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Pagliacci/Carmina Burana, Portland Opera (September 24)
Pagliacci without Cavalleria Rusticana? Why, that's like Tim Robbins without Susan Sarandon!
And yet, it's increasingly becoming a necessity, for the simple fact that it's very hard to stage both--mainly because a company needs two spinto tenors to do both Cav and Pag, and it's hard enough to find one. So as a result, we end up seeing Pagliacci paired up with other works: Gianni Schicchi for example. Later this season, Tacoma Opera will be doing it with Trouble in Tahiti. A few years ago, Seattle Opera did Pagliacci all by itself (they played some incidental music from Leoncavallo's Zaza to pad out the running time). (Digression: You'll notice that Cavalleria Rusticana almost never is performed independently of Pagliacci, presumably because Pagliacci has more hit tunes in it. More's the pity, I say.)
Portland Opera's pairing of Pagliacci with Carl Orff's "scenic cantata" Carmina Burana sounds like a combination too bizarre to work, like bacon sushi. Leoncavallo's veristic Italian opera and Orff's neo-medieval choral settings are two completely different sound worlds. However, going in to the night's performance, I mentally noted that this was the second local revival of a production by Christopher Mattaliano first seen in 1997, and a company like Portland Opera can't afford to revive a flop. Clearly, this production must be more than just a hodge-podge. (Note to self: must try making bacon sushi.)
Pagliacci was reset to the 20th century--no particular dramatic reason why, but more a design one. Apparently the set design was inspired by Fellini's film La Strada: the strolling players had a chance to make an entrance on a 1946 truck rather than the typical mule-drawn cart. It was a good solid production of the opera, perhaps more erotically charged than usual, particularly the scene between Nedda and Silvio. Mark Rucker sang a strong prologue with a ringing high note, and as Tonio was perhaps more sly and calculating than the hulking presence the character is sometimes portrayed as. Richard Crawley was a fierce, fearless and dangerous Canio with a strong, clarion tenor. Frequently "Vesti la giubba" descends into bathos, but not this evening. Nedda was Emily Pulley: not quite a battered bride, but one who has had enough of her controlling husband--her aria was sung brightly (although I personally find her aria and most of her scene with Silvio quite boring. Not the fault of the singers--I blame Leoncavallo.) Marian Pop was the unusually handsome Silvio.
Carmina Burana started where Pagliacci left off: Nedda and Silvio dead in the middle of the stage. And as dancers removed Pagliacci-specific scene elements from the stage, the two came back to life, and received dancer counterparts (from Portland modern dance company Bodyvox). Carmina Burana became a history of love from Adam and Eve onwards. The dancers seemed to represent the physicality of love, while the singers gave voice to more exalted versions of it--though not always.
Of the three vocal soloists in Carmina, baritone Marian Pop was the most successful, with beautiful tone, excellent diction, and a knowing demeanor. Emily Pulley was mostly successful, although by the time she got to "Dulcissime", her voice did sound fatigued. Steven Brennfleck (who had played Beppe in Pagliacci) sang the can't-miss number "Olim lacus colueram", which was accompanied by sick and hilarious real-time magic-lantern-style animations.
The chorus sounded well-studied with good diction--a challenge in a multilingual piece like Carmina Burana. In both works, John DeMain led his forces at a good brisk pace and nice balance between singers and orchestra.
Pairing up these works could have been perfunctory. Happily, the two works, if not a dramatic whole, at least complement each other in ways I could not have imagined before I saw this production.
...though I still miss Cav.
And yet, it's increasingly becoming a necessity, for the simple fact that it's very hard to stage both--mainly because a company needs two spinto tenors to do both Cav and Pag, and it's hard enough to find one. So as a result, we end up seeing Pagliacci paired up with other works: Gianni Schicchi for example. Later this season, Tacoma Opera will be doing it with Trouble in Tahiti. A few years ago, Seattle Opera did Pagliacci all by itself (they played some incidental music from Leoncavallo's Zaza to pad out the running time). (Digression: You'll notice that Cavalleria Rusticana almost never is performed independently of Pagliacci, presumably because Pagliacci has more hit tunes in it. More's the pity, I say.)
Portland Opera's pairing of Pagliacci with Carl Orff's "scenic cantata" Carmina Burana sounds like a combination too bizarre to work, like bacon sushi. Leoncavallo's veristic Italian opera and Orff's neo-medieval choral settings are two completely different sound worlds. However, going in to the night's performance, I mentally noted that this was the second local revival of a production by Christopher Mattaliano first seen in 1997, and a company like Portland Opera can't afford to revive a flop. Clearly, this production must be more than just a hodge-podge. (Note to self: must try making bacon sushi.)
Pagliacci was reset to the 20th century--no particular dramatic reason why, but more a design one. Apparently the set design was inspired by Fellini's film La Strada: the strolling players had a chance to make an entrance on a 1946 truck rather than the typical mule-drawn cart. It was a good solid production of the opera, perhaps more erotically charged than usual, particularly the scene between Nedda and Silvio. Mark Rucker sang a strong prologue with a ringing high note, and as Tonio was perhaps more sly and calculating than the hulking presence the character is sometimes portrayed as. Richard Crawley was a fierce, fearless and dangerous Canio with a strong, clarion tenor. Frequently "Vesti la giubba" descends into bathos, but not this evening. Nedda was Emily Pulley: not quite a battered bride, but one who has had enough of her controlling husband--her aria was sung brightly (although I personally find her aria and most of her scene with Silvio quite boring. Not the fault of the singers--I blame Leoncavallo.) Marian Pop was the unusually handsome Silvio.
Carmina Burana started where Pagliacci left off: Nedda and Silvio dead in the middle of the stage. And as dancers removed Pagliacci-specific scene elements from the stage, the two came back to life, and received dancer counterparts (from Portland modern dance company Bodyvox). Carmina Burana became a history of love from Adam and Eve onwards. The dancers seemed to represent the physicality of love, while the singers gave voice to more exalted versions of it--though not always.
Of the three vocal soloists in Carmina, baritone Marian Pop was the most successful, with beautiful tone, excellent diction, and a knowing demeanor. Emily Pulley was mostly successful, although by the time she got to "Dulcissime", her voice did sound fatigued. Steven Brennfleck (who had played Beppe in Pagliacci) sang the can't-miss number "Olim lacus colueram", which was accompanied by sick and hilarious real-time magic-lantern-style animations.
The chorus sounded well-studied with good diction--a challenge in a multilingual piece like Carmina Burana. In both works, John DeMain led his forces at a good brisk pace and nice balance between singers and orchestra.
Pairing up these works could have been perfunctory. Happily, the two works, if not a dramatic whole, at least complement each other in ways I could not have imagined before I saw this production.
...though I still miss Cav.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Opera in Cascadia through December 2010
August
- August 20, 21 (Actor's Cabaret, Eugene, OR), 25m (The Old Church, Portland, OR), 29 (Sherman Clay Pianos, Portland, OR), 31m (Willamette Oaks Retirement Center, Eugene, OR), September 11 (Our Savior's Lutheran Church, Salem, OR), 17 (Cascade Head Music Festival, Lincoln City, OR), 21 (Capital Manor Retirement Home, Salem, OR), 26m (Central Lutheran Church, Eugene, OR) - Tales of Hoffmann, Jacques Offenbach - Cascadia Concert Opera, various venues (see dates)
- August 21 - Tristan und Isolde, Richard Wagner - Seattle Opera, Marion Oliver McCaw Hall, Seattle, WA
- August 22 - Macbeth, Giuseppe Verdi - Opera Pro Cantanti, Cambrian Hall, Vancouver, BC
- August 29 - Operatic Arias and Scenes - Opera Pro Cantanti, Cambrian Hall, Vancouver, BC
- September 5 - La Traviata, Giuseppe Verdi - Opera Pro Cantanti, Cambrian Hall, Vancouver, BC
- September 10, 12m - Barber of Seville, Gioachino Rossini - Vashon Opera, Vashon High School Theatre, Vashon, WA
- September 12 - Macbeth, Giuseppe Verdi - Opera Pro Cantanti, Cambrian Hall, Vancouver, BC
- September 24, 26m, 30 & October 2 - Pagliacci/Carmina Burana, Ruggero Leoncavallo/Carl Orff - Portland Opera, Keller Auditorium, Portland, OR
- September 30, October 2m, 5, 7, 9 - Cinderella, Gioachino Rossini - Pacific Opera Victoria, Royal Theatre, Victoria, BC
- October 3 - Norma, Vincenzo Bellini - Opera Pro Cantanti, Cambrian Hall, Vancouver, BC
- October 16, 19, 21, 23 - Lillian Alling (World Premiere), John Estacio - Vancouver Opera, Queen Elizabeth Theare, Vancouver, BC
- October 16, 17m, 20, 23, 24m, 27, 29, 30 - Lucia di Lammermoor, Gaetano Donizetti - Seattle Opera, Marion Oliver McCaw Hall, Seattle, WA
- October 23 - Stabat Mater, Giovanni Battista Pergolesi - Seattle Baroque Orchestra, Town Hall, Seattle, WA
- November 5, 7m, 11, 13 - Hansel und Gretel, Engelbert Humperdinck - Portland Opera, Keller Auditorium, Portland, OR
- November 5, 7m - L'elisir d'amore, Gaetano Donizetti - Tacoma Opera, Rialto Theater, Tacoma, WA
- November 5, 7, 13 - Norma, Vincenzo Bellini - Bellevue Opera, Meydenbauer Theater, Bellevue, WA
- November 11, 13m, 16, 18, 20 - Rodelinda, George Frideric Handel - Pacifc Opera Victoria, Royal Theatre, Victoria, BC
- December 3 & 4 - Vespers of 1610, Claudio Monteverdi - Early Music Guild & Seattle Baroque Orchestra, St. James Cathedral, Seattle, WA
- December 4, 7, 9, 11 - Lucia di Lammermoor, Gaetano Donizetti - Vancouver Opera, Queen Elizabeth Theatre, Vancouver, BC
- December 30, 31 & January 2m - La Bohème, Giacomo Puccini - Eugene Opera, Hult Center for the Performing Arts, Eugene, OR
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Tristan und Isolde, Seattle Opera (July 31)
Tristan und Isolde is not an easy opera. It's not easy to stage, nor to sing, nor to listen to. In fact, I've sometimes entertained the philistine notion that the opera would be twice as good if it were half as long.
When I first heard that Seattle Opera was planning on making TuI their Summer 2010 opera, I assumed it would be a revival of their 1998 production (the production that marked the role debuts for Ben Heppner and Jane Eaglen, who for the next few years were briefly the top couple for the title roles). To my surprise, it was announced it would be a new production by Peter Kazaras. To my greater surprise, it turns out that a new production would be less expensive than a revival.
Well, it certainly looked cheap. Like too many of Seattle Opera's recent productions, it was based around a unit set (designed, along with the costumes, by Robert Israel) that was essentially like a giant, empty, dark marble bank lobby, with minimal props onstage to indicate the various scenes. The program notes stated that the production would use expensive new projection technology, but said projections seemed to be used very sparingly. (Nowhere near the stunning projections I recently saw at Vancouver Opera's Nixon in China or San Francisco's Die Walküre).
The costumes seemed to be Japanese-inspired, some apparently soaked with blood. A reference, perhaps, to Yukio Mishima, the Japanese novelist who directed a film where a couple commits ritual suicide to Tristan? (Mishima himself famously later committed seppuku.) However, the costumes, along with the vague set and props led the viewer to believe that some sort of point was being made. What point that might be was not clear.
Perhaps the most interesting aspect of the stage direction was the fact that the title couple never actually made any physical contact until the final moments: amorous obsession seen through the lens of medieval courtly love.
Musically, it was a much happier evening. Annalena Persson, from Sweden, making her US debut, may not have beguiled with beauty of tone, but the role clearly held no terrors for her. Hers was an Isolde seething from the very beginning. Clifton Forbis is well-known for his Tristan by now. Again, no honey in his voice, but a grand sense of self-contempt from Act 1 on.
I'm a big fan of Margaret Jane Wray's Sieglinde, and as I expected, Brangäne suited her voice (somewhere between a soprano and a mezzo) very well. Her devotion and regret were well-portrayed. Kurwenal is a comparably small role, so it was a bit of surprise for Greer Grimsley to take the role, as his last Seattle assignment was Wotan. Frankly, Kurwenal isn't that interesting of a part, and Mr. Grimsley didn't make it any more interesting. Stephen Milling, on the other hand, was simply sensational as Marke, making his long scene (which in the wrong hands can be terribly boring) one of the best of the night.
Asher Fisch, Seattle Opera's principal guest conductor, really came into his own in this production. He kept a good balance with the singers--none were ever overwhelmed by the orchestra. He lingered on the more beautiful moments, but kept the opera moving along at a good pace. The Seattle Symphony played as well as I've ever heard them.
Ultimately, however, it was an evening that left me unsatisfied. Tristan und Isolde, as I stated before, is a difficult work, and it takes a special kind of performance to turn it into the kind of hyper-romantic dementia that Wagner conjured up. I had no complaints with the musical side of the evening. It was what I saw that left me cold.
When I first heard that Seattle Opera was planning on making TuI their Summer 2010 opera, I assumed it would be a revival of their 1998 production (the production that marked the role debuts for Ben Heppner and Jane Eaglen, who for the next few years were briefly the top couple for the title roles). To my surprise, it was announced it would be a new production by Peter Kazaras. To my greater surprise, it turns out that a new production would be less expensive than a revival.
Well, it certainly looked cheap. Like too many of Seattle Opera's recent productions, it was based around a unit set (designed, along with the costumes, by Robert Israel) that was essentially like a giant, empty, dark marble bank lobby, with minimal props onstage to indicate the various scenes. The program notes stated that the production would use expensive new projection technology, but said projections seemed to be used very sparingly. (Nowhere near the stunning projections I recently saw at Vancouver Opera's Nixon in China or San Francisco's Die Walküre).
The costumes seemed to be Japanese-inspired, some apparently soaked with blood. A reference, perhaps, to Yukio Mishima, the Japanese novelist who directed a film where a couple commits ritual suicide to Tristan? (Mishima himself famously later committed seppuku.) However, the costumes, along with the vague set and props led the viewer to believe that some sort of point was being made. What point that might be was not clear.
Perhaps the most interesting aspect of the stage direction was the fact that the title couple never actually made any physical contact until the final moments: amorous obsession seen through the lens of medieval courtly love.
Musically, it was a much happier evening. Annalena Persson, from Sweden, making her US debut, may not have beguiled with beauty of tone, but the role clearly held no terrors for her. Hers was an Isolde seething from the very beginning. Clifton Forbis is well-known for his Tristan by now. Again, no honey in his voice, but a grand sense of self-contempt from Act 1 on.
I'm a big fan of Margaret Jane Wray's Sieglinde, and as I expected, Brangäne suited her voice (somewhere between a soprano and a mezzo) very well. Her devotion and regret were well-portrayed. Kurwenal is a comparably small role, so it was a bit of surprise for Greer Grimsley to take the role, as his last Seattle assignment was Wotan. Frankly, Kurwenal isn't that interesting of a part, and Mr. Grimsley didn't make it any more interesting. Stephen Milling, on the other hand, was simply sensational as Marke, making his long scene (which in the wrong hands can be terribly boring) one of the best of the night.
Asher Fisch, Seattle Opera's principal guest conductor, really came into his own in this production. He kept a good balance with the singers--none were ever overwhelmed by the orchestra. He lingered on the more beautiful moments, but kept the opera moving along at a good pace. The Seattle Symphony played as well as I've ever heard them.
Ultimately, however, it was an evening that left me unsatisfied. Tristan und Isolde, as I stated before, is a difficult work, and it takes a special kind of performance to turn it into the kind of hyper-romantic dementia that Wagner conjured up. I had no complaints with the musical side of the evening. It was what I saw that left me cold.
Monday, August 16, 2010
About this blog
Opera is dementia, and this blog is intended to be a record of that madness.
I regularly attend opera all over the Pacific Northwest. I'm based in the Sound Sound area, and Seattle Opera is my main operatic destination, but I also have made excursions north to Vancouver, south to Portland and San Francisco, as well as some smaller companies in Tacoma and Bellevue. I haven't made it up to the Pacific Opera in Victoria, but I look to rectify that omission over the 2010-11 season.
In this blog, I plan to talk about performances I attend, as well as radio broadcast operas, operas streamed over the internet, videos, and anything else operatic I can think of.
Aesthetically speaking, this blog is not much to speak of... yet. But I do intend to make it prettier.
Enough prologue. Andiam. Incominciate!
I regularly attend opera all over the Pacific Northwest. I'm based in the Sound Sound area, and Seattle Opera is my main operatic destination, but I also have made excursions north to Vancouver, south to Portland and San Francisco, as well as some smaller companies in Tacoma and Bellevue. I haven't made it up to the Pacific Opera in Victoria, but I look to rectify that omission over the 2010-11 season.
In this blog, I plan to talk about performances I attend, as well as radio broadcast operas, operas streamed over the internet, videos, and anything else operatic I can think of.
Aesthetically speaking, this blog is not much to speak of... yet. But I do intend to make it prettier.
Enough prologue. Andiam. Incominciate!
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