This performance of Capriccio reminded me of a friend’s opinion that “the first act of Götterdämmerung is the shortest two hours in all of opera.” The opera was billed as running 2 hrs 45 min (that there would be no intermission was not made clear), actually ran 2 hrs 30 min, but when the curtain came down I found myself thinking "Was that a typo? Hasn’t it been more like 1 hr 45 min?" But it was, for sure, 12:35 pm, and the time had for the most part flown by—though I confess having fallen victim to a wandering mind a few times.
I have to credit the performers with doing a lot with a little bit of material. There is a love triangle, with the composer and poet both contending for the attention of the Countess, but it must be the most cultured, most refined love triangle on any stage. The two men attempt to woo the Countess by exercising their respective crafts, to write the music and the words for an opera, and to let the Countess decide which is the more important, the music or the words. A couple of others also get to have their say: the stage director, who will actually make the opera happen, and the comical prompter, who insists that without him it wouldn’t actually happen.
So it’s something of an opera within an opera, although the inner opera is never presented. Although it’s a love triangle, that is really a subplot (or stand-in) to the primary issue: music or words? It’s a vehicle for Strauss and and his co-librettist Clemens Krauss to engage in self-referential horseplay; it’s an opera about opera. There is a particularly unsubtle bit of self-reference when the principal characters exit the stage and the chorus of servants comes in to straighten things up as they comment on what they have overheard. One of them observes that “the next thing you know, they’ll be putting servants in opera.”
There’s not much to say about the set; it’s pretty much what you would expect: an elegant drawing room with sofas and easy chairs and small tables with lamps, and a piano. And a harp, which Renee Fleming (as the Countess) certainly appeared to be playing herself.
Our cast:
Countess: Renee Fleming
Flamand: Joseph Kaiser
Olivier: Russell Braun
Count: Morten Frank Larsen
Clairon: Sarah Connolly
La Roche: Peter Rose
Conductor: Andrew Davis
Production: John Cox
Renee Fleming was her usual luminous, wonderful self. The remainder of the cast acquitted themselves well, especially Peter Rose, who sung the bass role of the stage director superbly. I could be a Peter Rose fan, if he stays away from Osmin. When I saw him in Abduction from the Seraglio a few years ago, the lowest notes were not within his grasp. It was an embarrassing display of opening his mouth and no sound coming out.
Capriccio is not a great opera; it’s not even a great Strauss opera. It’s an acceptable vehicle for a world-class soprano; it’s pleasant enough; thankfully, it is no Domestic Symphony. In this performance, it’s not quite a beta.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Friday, April 15, 2011
Le Comte Ory, Metropolitan Opera HD Live, April 9 2011
The local theater was fuller than expected for this Rossini rarity, in its first-ever production by the Metropolitan Opera. Were these people who have a commitment to see all of the broadcasts? Were they Rossini devotees? Were they people who have seen their fill of Bohemes and Traviatas and are excited by something new? I can only speculate. A bit of all of the above apply to me.
Le Comte Ory was Rossini’s last-but-one opera, followed only by William Tell. The plot is somewhat similar to The Barber of Seville: the tenor desires to get into the lady’s house, and adopts a couple of disguises to do so. But here, he fails in his quest. He also has a rival for the lady’s affections: his page, Isolier, who actually first has the idea of disguise.
The production was of the “play within a play” sort. On the Met stage, we saw ... a stage, a low-rise contraption of boards and planks and stairs with a few steps, on which secondary stage the action takes place. Stage machinery, including a large winch operated by a supernumerary, was clearly visible to the left of the stage. Other supers performed set changes by moving potted trees and other props, in full view of the audience. It was a workable concept, though a far cry from a “stunning” production.
Our cast:
Count Ory: Juan Diego Florez
Isolier: Joyce DiDinato
Countess Adele: Diana Damrau
Ragonde: Susanne Resmark
Raimbaud: Stephane Degout
Tutor: Michele Pertusi
I have yet to join JDF’s fan club. The high notes that he is famous for sound strained to me. For me the standout performer was Diana Damrau, whose high notes were positively beautiful. Michele Pertusi also acquitted himself well as the Tutor, and Joyce DiDinato made a very believable Isolier. Lots of fine singing, but it failed to redeem the lackluster music and staging. A gamma or perhaps a shade better.
Le Comte Ory was Rossini’s last-but-one opera, followed only by William Tell. The plot is somewhat similar to The Barber of Seville: the tenor desires to get into the lady’s house, and adopts a couple of disguises to do so. But here, he fails in his quest. He also has a rival for the lady’s affections: his page, Isolier, who actually first has the idea of disguise.
The production was of the “play within a play” sort. On the Met stage, we saw ... a stage, a low-rise contraption of boards and planks and stairs with a few steps, on which secondary stage the action takes place. Stage machinery, including a large winch operated by a supernumerary, was clearly visible to the left of the stage. Other supers performed set changes by moving potted trees and other props, in full view of the audience. It was a workable concept, though a far cry from a “stunning” production.
Our cast:
Count Ory: Juan Diego Florez
Isolier: Joyce DiDinato
Countess Adele: Diana Damrau
Ragonde: Susanne Resmark
Raimbaud: Stephane Degout
Tutor: Michele Pertusi
I have yet to join JDF’s fan club. The high notes that he is famous for sound strained to me. For me the standout performer was Diana Damrau, whose high notes were positively beautiful. Michele Pertusi also acquitted himself well as the Tutor, and Joyce DiDinato made a very believable Isolier. Lots of fine singing, but it failed to redeem the lackluster music and staging. A gamma or perhaps a shade better.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Dialogues of the Carmelites, San Francisco Conservatory Opera Theater, April 3 2011
Another “new” opera for me, one that I hadn’t seen before, one that I counted among the important operas that I had not seen. (What’s still on that list? Der Freischutz, Die Frau ohne Schatten, Rienzi, Maria Stuarda, From the House of the Dead, Sicilian Vespers, Orfeo, ... But I’m in good company—my friend who teaches at SFCM had never seen Carmelites either. And San Francisco Opera has not performed it since 1982.) I’ve read about the impact of the final scene, and this one delivered.
The performance was given at the Cowell Theater at Ft. Mason Center, and it was fairly well attended: roughly 80% of the seats were occupied. The foundation of the set was three large “stone” pillars that could easily be used to represent the wall of a mansion or a church or a public square, depending upon what was inserted between the pillars: a fireplace or an altar or a steel gate. The opera is in three acts of four scenes each, and the scene changes were effected by having the characters on stage move the equipment around.
The most notable moments of acting and stage direction came at the ends of acts 1 and 4. The end of act 1 is the agonizing death of the mother superior, conforming to its description as “the most realistic death in all of opera.” Kristen Choi as the mother superior writhed convincingly. At the end of act 4, all of the nuns in the convent are guillotined. Dressed in simple white muslin, they gathered to the left and sang a hymn of praise, Salve regina. One at a time, they walked across the back of the stage, up a ramp, off the stage, and then we heard the sickening sound of the guillotine—and then there is one fewer voice singing. Ultimately the chorus is reduced to a quartet, then a trio, then a duet, then Blanche goes to her death singing Deo patri sit gloria. Schlliicckk goes the guillotine, and no one is singing. Truly a theatrical masterstroke.
There are 20 named parts, 31 if you count the individual nuns, so I will only mention
Blanche de la Force: Julia Metzler
Old Prioress: Kristen Choi
Father Confessor: Dominic Domingo
Conductor: Michael Morgan
Director: Richard Harrell
The performance by the SFCM students, both singers and orchestra, was fairly respectable. I was struck by the confident baritone of one young man, whether he was one of the two “officers” or one of the two “soldiers” I couldn’t tell, but I would like to hear him in more than a tiny role. The Father Confessor has a long way to go before being compared to his famous grandfather. Overall, a gamma or bit better.
The performance was given at the Cowell Theater at Ft. Mason Center, and it was fairly well attended: roughly 80% of the seats were occupied. The foundation of the set was three large “stone” pillars that could easily be used to represent the wall of a mansion or a church or a public square, depending upon what was inserted between the pillars: a fireplace or an altar or a steel gate. The opera is in three acts of four scenes each, and the scene changes were effected by having the characters on stage move the equipment around.
The most notable moments of acting and stage direction came at the ends of acts 1 and 4. The end of act 1 is the agonizing death of the mother superior, conforming to its description as “the most realistic death in all of opera.” Kristen Choi as the mother superior writhed convincingly. At the end of act 4, all of the nuns in the convent are guillotined. Dressed in simple white muslin, they gathered to the left and sang a hymn of praise, Salve regina. One at a time, they walked across the back of the stage, up a ramp, off the stage, and then we heard the sickening sound of the guillotine—and then there is one fewer voice singing. Ultimately the chorus is reduced to a quartet, then a trio, then a duet, then Blanche goes to her death singing Deo patri sit gloria. Schlliicckk goes the guillotine, and no one is singing. Truly a theatrical masterstroke.
There are 20 named parts, 31 if you count the individual nuns, so I will only mention
Blanche de la Force: Julia Metzler
Old Prioress: Kristen Choi
Father Confessor: Dominic Domingo
Conductor: Michael Morgan
Director: Richard Harrell
The performance by the SFCM students, both singers and orchestra, was fairly respectable. I was struck by the confident baritone of one young man, whether he was one of the two “officers” or one of the two “soldiers” I couldn’t tell, but I would like to hear him in more than a tiny role. The Father Confessor has a long way to go before being compared to his famous grandfather. Overall, a gamma or bit better.
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