How do you make an opera out of a novel that’s almost as long as War and Peace? Well, War and Peace and Anna Karenina (which is almost as long) have been turned into operas. In the case of Anna Karenina, the composer stated that the first thing you do is to throw away 300 pages extolling the virtues of farm machinery. In the case of Moby-Dick, Jake Heggie and his librettist Gene Scheer decided to set the opera completely at sea, on board the Pequod, and to concentrate on the interpersonal relationships. Our pre-performance speaker, Desiree Mays, told us that Heggie had said that it was not necessary to read the novel before attending the opera—but that he hoped that attending the opera would encourage you to read the novel. To satisfy such urges, the opera shop at the War Memorial Opera House is stocking no fewer than four books: the novel itself, Nathaniel Philbrick’s In the Heart of the Sea (about the sinking of the whaling ship Essex by a whale, which inspired Herman Melville), the actual memoirs of the sailors who survived the sinking of the Essex 2000 nautical miles west of the South American coast, and Philbrick’s Why Read Moby Dick? Sigh ... more books to add to the list of “books I want to read some day.”
The production served the opera very well. As the orchestral prelude evoked calm seas far from land, stars appeared on the black curtain, and we were spiraled into the depths of the galaxy. Soon lines were drawn from star to star, as though to outline constellations, but I found no recognizable constellations. The number of lines increased, and before long they seemed to suggest the mast and rigging of a tall ship. The lines began to curve and increase in number, and we saw a line drawing of a whaling ship that advanced toward us and passed us at very close quarters, almost running us over. Exceptionally effective!
When the curtain went up, we saw the deck of a whaling ship, with a huge mast in the center of the stage, lots of ropes strung at various angles, and two steel booms (like crane booms) made out of triangulated tubing held vertically or nearly vertically. When the libretto called for a sailor to ascend a mast, he would climb up one of these booms. Sometimes the rigging was deployed right at the front of the stage; the amount of rigging changed from scene to scene. At the back of the stage was a curved surface of 1 x 4 planks, looking like the hull of a ship as seen from inside. On this wall were three sets of small seats, which singers could climb up to and sit upon while the projected image surrounded six men on their seats with the outline of the small dinghy used in the actual harpooning of a whale. Although the seats were stationary, slight movements in the projected dinghies adequately conveyed the idea of the boats being tossed by the waves.
After a whale had been harpooned and brought back to the Pequod, a center section of the wall of planks was lowered. Through this hatch we saw part of the body of the whale being rendered in the tryworks. Underneath the platform created by opening the hatch was Ahab’s quarters, just a solid block that served first as a table where Ahab studied his charts, and later served as his bed.
In the encounter with the great white whale, the men resumed their positions on the small seats and their dinghies were projected. As Moby Dick smashed each dinghy, the projections scattered into myriad planks, and the men jumped off their seats and slid down the wall of planks, then ran offstage. Then the Pequod itself was projected, and it sank. At the very end, the hatch came down again, and Greenhorn (the sole survivor) was seen resting, exhausted, on the coffin that Queequeg had ordered built for himself. Through the hatch we saw blue sky and clouds as Captain Gardiner of the Rachel called out to Greenhorn, “Who are you?” and Greenhorn replied, “Call me Ishmael.”
Our cast:
Captain Ahab: Jay Hunter Morris (a.k.a. Jayhab)
Greenhorn (Ishmael): Stephen Costello
Starbuck: Morgan Smith
Queequeg: Jonathan Lemalu
Pip: Talise Trevigne
Flask: Matthew O’Neill
Stubb: Robert Orth
Conductor: Patrick Summers
Director: Leonard Foglia
Set Designer: Robert Brill
My experience fell short of what I expected based on reviews and talking with people who had already seen the opera. The orchestral music fit the story without being particularly memorable, with the exception of the prelude. My primary reservation had to do with the driving, propulsive force of the music. It was good music, there was just too much of that kind of music. I wished for more lyrical interludes, more of the kind of music that we heard at the end of Act 1, where Starbuck decides not to shoot Ahab in his sleep. We did get more lyrical interludes in Act 2; I wish some of them had leaked into Act 1. The vocal lines also failed to impress me. There were a number (fortunately not a large number) of single syllables set to multiple notes that seemed to jump about randomly—not as randomly or as disjunct as I have heard in other modern operas, but nevertheless not as musical as I would have liked. To the credit of the librettist, I heard no trite phrases of the form “Who was that on the telephone?” or “I’ll have to give you a geography lesson.” Two passages will stick in my memory: the prelude and the choral number “Lost in the heart of the sea.”
One person I had talked with earlier opined that the role of Captain Ahab was better suited for Ben Heppner than for Jay Hunter Morris, and indeed the role was written for Heppner. I have an immense amount of respect for Morris, whose Siegfried Siegfried for the Met was nothing short of amazing, but I can imagine that a heavier, darker voice would have been more appropriate for Ahab. Morgan Smith was outstanding both in the quality of his tone and in his diction. Talise Trevigne did nicely as the cabin boy Pip. She sang for a while with Opera San Jose, and I wish she had stuck around longer. Orchestral playing was superb.
I had hoped that Moby-Dick would be even more impressive than Dead Man Walking, at which I remember thinking about 10 minutes in, if this keeps up, it’s going to be standing ovation time. Well, it did and it was—it was highly effective and tremendously moving. In contrast, at this performance of Moby-Dick, very few people rose to their feet until Heggie himself came out to take a bow. Was it an off night for the performers? Perhaps; it happens. But based on what I saw and heard, it was only a beta. But I’ll give it another try. And I would like to read the novel.
Friday, October 19, 2012
Thursday, October 18, 2012
I Capuleti e i Montecchi, San Francisco Opera, Oct. 16 2012
We saw the fifth of the six scheduled regular performances of Bellini’s I Capuleti e i Montecchi on Tuesday evening. To the earlier report of the staging, I should mention that in Act 1 Scene 2, there was what appeared to be a white plaster cast of two intertwined flying figures, suspended high above the stage. In Act 2 Scene 2, the left and right walls and the back wall formed a trapezoid similar to Act 1 Scene 1, while the floor was the triangular shape of Act 1 Scene 2. In the space between the triangular floor and the back wall there was a chord of a circle, perhaps representing a sun that had almost set. At first it was illuminated with white light, and later with pink light. For the final scene, the triangular walls were fit with the triangular floor. Giuletta simply lay limp on the floor, still dressed in her bridal gown, with overclothes lying beside her. At one point Romeo lifted her to her feet, where she remained standing, motionless, with her arms akimbo, for eight minutes. It’s the opposite of athleticism, but holding such a position for such a long time is nevertheless a considerable demand to make of anyone.
Our cast:
Giulietta: Nicole Cabell
Romeo: Joyce DiDonato
Tebaldo: Saimir Pirgu
Lorenzo: Ao Li
Capellio: Eric Owens
Conductor: Riccardo Frizza
Director: Vincent Boussard
Set Designer: Vincent Lemaire
Cabell and DiDonato sang magnificently, even better than they had in dress rehearsal. Pirgu displayed a nice clear tenor voice, though it got a bit shrill near the top of his range. Li impressed with his Lorenzo, and Owens did justice to Capellio. Many aspects of the production remained a mystery. I heard from a super that Cabell and DiDonato were “strong supporters” of the production and that the director had spent a lot of time with them explaining its meaning. I wish that we, the audience, could have benefited from some of those insights. David Gockley reported that the production “divided the audience.” I give the production a gamma at best, the women get alphas, and the entire experience a beta or maybe a bit more.
Our cast:
Giulietta: Nicole Cabell
Romeo: Joyce DiDonato
Tebaldo: Saimir Pirgu
Lorenzo: Ao Li
Capellio: Eric Owens
Conductor: Riccardo Frizza
Director: Vincent Boussard
Set Designer: Vincent Lemaire
Cabell and DiDonato sang magnificently, even better than they had in dress rehearsal. Pirgu displayed a nice clear tenor voice, though it got a bit shrill near the top of his range. Li impressed with his Lorenzo, and Owens did justice to Capellio. Many aspects of the production remained a mystery. I heard from a super that Cabell and DiDonato were “strong supporters” of the production and that the director had spent a lot of time with them explaining its meaning. I wish that we, the audience, could have benefited from some of those insights. David Gockley reported that the production “divided the audience.” I give the production a gamma at best, the women get alphas, and the entire experience a beta or maybe a bit more.
Saturday, October 13, 2012
L'Elisir d'Amore, Metropolitan Opera HD Live, Oct. 13 2012
Somebody at the Met loves Donizetti—not that there’s anything wrong with that. HD Live has presented at least one Donizetti each year since 2008 (Don Pasquale, Daughter of the Regiment, Anna Bolena, and two Lucia di Lammermoors), with Maria Stuarda scheduled for Jan. 19 2013. For 2012, it’s L'Elisir d'Amore. Can we expect Roberto Devereux, the third of the “three queens,” before too long?
We saw a new production by Bartlett Sher. During the overture, Nemorino wandered out in front of the curtain and finally knelt beside a bench to write something in a little booklet. Was it a check? An entry in his pocket calendar? Even with HD closeup, I couldn’t tell. Either way, I didn’t get it when Adina later pocketed (or bodiced) it. Nothing more was seen of it.
In Act 1 Scene 1, we saw a Tuscan countryside in the background, gentle hills in the background with a couple of villages atop the hills. In the foreground were obviously cardboard cutouts of large trees and stalks of grain, and a small table at which Adina sat and read her book about Tristan. After a “curtain down” pause, Scene 2 was a plaza in such a Tuscan village, with a large church looming in the back and smaller buildings left and right. Dr. Dulcamara arrived, as is typical, in a large covered cart on four wheels, from which he emerged to deliver his “Udite, i rustici.”
Act 2 sure looked like Act 1 of the Met’s production of La Fanciulla del West, set inside a large wooden barn with a balcony area to the left; an onstage band performed from the balcony at the beginning. In front was a long table at which the principals of the wedding party sat. An intermission feature described the real food, chicken and spaghetti with a bit of oil, that the singers actually ate on stage. Before Gianetta and her friends appeared to describe Nemorino’s newly-inherited wealth, chorus members had taken off the tables and chairs, and the rear wall of the barn had been removed to one side. By the time of “Una furtiva lagrima” the balcony portion had also been slid offstage, leaving just the background painting of the Tuscan countryside and the stalks of grain.
Our cast:
Adina: Anna Netrebko
Nemorino: Matthew Polenzani
Belcore: Mariusz Kwiecien
Doctor Dulcamara: Ambrogio Maestri
Conductor: Maurizio Benini
Production: Bartlett Sher
Set Designer: Michael Yeargan
What a cast! Ambrogio Maestri was not a name I knew, but I could certainly stand to hear him again; he projected a wonderfully sonorous bass voice. Mariusz Kwiecien impressed with his singing and his lively acting. I’ve heard rumors that Boito’s Mefistofele is coming to San Francisco in the near future, and I’ve been wondering who would sing Mefistofele in such a production with anywhere near the impact that Samuel Ramey had in 1989. If the role is not too low for Kwiecien, he has my vote. Matthew Polenzani sang well enough for most of the opera, then he uncorked a fabulous “Una furtiva lagrima” that was applauded at such length that he seemed to have trouble staying in character. And Anna Netrebko was her usual superb self. A solid beta.
We saw a new production by Bartlett Sher. During the overture, Nemorino wandered out in front of the curtain and finally knelt beside a bench to write something in a little booklet. Was it a check? An entry in his pocket calendar? Even with HD closeup, I couldn’t tell. Either way, I didn’t get it when Adina later pocketed (or bodiced) it. Nothing more was seen of it.
In Act 1 Scene 1, we saw a Tuscan countryside in the background, gentle hills in the background with a couple of villages atop the hills. In the foreground were obviously cardboard cutouts of large trees and stalks of grain, and a small table at which Adina sat and read her book about Tristan. After a “curtain down” pause, Scene 2 was a plaza in such a Tuscan village, with a large church looming in the back and smaller buildings left and right. Dr. Dulcamara arrived, as is typical, in a large covered cart on four wheels, from which he emerged to deliver his “Udite, i rustici.”
Act 2 sure looked like Act 1 of the Met’s production of La Fanciulla del West, set inside a large wooden barn with a balcony area to the left; an onstage band performed from the balcony at the beginning. In front was a long table at which the principals of the wedding party sat. An intermission feature described the real food, chicken and spaghetti with a bit of oil, that the singers actually ate on stage. Before Gianetta and her friends appeared to describe Nemorino’s newly-inherited wealth, chorus members had taken off the tables and chairs, and the rear wall of the barn had been removed to one side. By the time of “Una furtiva lagrima” the balcony portion had also been slid offstage, leaving just the background painting of the Tuscan countryside and the stalks of grain.
Our cast:
Adina: Anna Netrebko
Nemorino: Matthew Polenzani
Belcore: Mariusz Kwiecien
Doctor Dulcamara: Ambrogio Maestri
Conductor: Maurizio Benini
Production: Bartlett Sher
Set Designer: Michael Yeargan
What a cast! Ambrogio Maestri was not a name I knew, but I could certainly stand to hear him again; he projected a wonderfully sonorous bass voice. Mariusz Kwiecien impressed with his singing and his lively acting. I’ve heard rumors that Boito’s Mefistofele is coming to San Francisco in the near future, and I’ve been wondering who would sing Mefistofele in such a production with anywhere near the impact that Samuel Ramey had in 1989. If the role is not too low for Kwiecien, he has my vote. Matthew Polenzani sang well enough for most of the opera, then he uncorked a fabulous “Una furtiva lagrima” that was applauded at such length that he seemed to have trouble staying in character. And Anna Netrebko was her usual superb self. A solid beta.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
La Boheme, Livermore Valley Opera, Oct. 7 2012
Yet another La Boheme? Why? Simple: Eugene Brancoveanu and Marie Plette. And more, as it turned out.
The curtain opened on the Bohemian’s garret, the first one that I have seen with beds for all four Bohemians, in the form of two iron-framed bunk beds, one left, one right. In the center was a very large window that provided a view of the snow-covered rooftops of Paris. In front of the window was a clothesline running from right to left, supporting (in addition to clothes) two frying pans and a number of sheets of paper—I guess Rodolfo’s ink must have been of the cheap, slow-drying variety. And on the far left, the stove that received Rodolfo’s play (although the flames weren’t particularly well-coordinated with the music).
Acts 2 and 3 were presented with just a “pause” between them, with projections displayed on a large surface against the back wall and two narrower but equally tall surfaces on each side. There were of course a few tables and chairs at the Cafe Momus; interestingly, when Musetta and Alcindoro were seated, their table was roped off on one side. The “pause,” which I was told was director’s choice, was inexpertly handled. It’s fun to watch the Metropolitan Opera scene changes, as they wheel around immense sets, but here the details of plugging in the streetlight and taping down its electrical line should have been done behind a curtain. Act 4 was back in the garrett. Were they really going to lead Mimi to one of the lower bunks? As it turned out, during the fight that immediately preceded Mimi’s entrance, one of the mattresses was removed and thrown to center stage, there to receive the body of one of the Bohemians (Schaunard?) who had been “injured” in the “duel.”
Our cast:
Mimi: Marie Plette
Rodolfo: David Gustafson
Marcello: Eugene Brancoveanu
Musetta: Kristin Clayton
Schaunard: Krassen Karagiozov
Colline: Philip Skinner
Conductor: Alexander Katsman
Director: Eugene Brancoveanu
This was, undisputedly, Eugene Brancoveanu’s show. His Marcello was so ably and powerfully sung that one might venture that the show should have been called Marcello. He was also the director, and he gave his character some extra, atypical, things to do. Keying off of his line “Which of you pretty ladies would care for a bit of love?” at the beginning of Act 2, two streetwalkers responded to his call. At the end of Act 3, he slugged the man that Musetta had been dancing with, and finished the act by walking offstage with one of the streetwalkers after slipping her a $5 bill. (No francs or euros to be had?)
Philip Skinner, the veteran of 375 performances at San Francisco Opera was also a highlight. It was too bad that he got to sing to his overcoat for only two minutes. It was a pleasure to see Krassen Karagiozov, former resident artist at Opera San Jose, again. All of the principals sang well enough; the minor characters, not so much. As is often the case with “regional” orchestras, the playing was a bit rocky to start with, but did manage to reach an even keel before too long. A beta.
The curtain opened on the Bohemian’s garret, the first one that I have seen with beds for all four Bohemians, in the form of two iron-framed bunk beds, one left, one right. In the center was a very large window that provided a view of the snow-covered rooftops of Paris. In front of the window was a clothesline running from right to left, supporting (in addition to clothes) two frying pans and a number of sheets of paper—I guess Rodolfo’s ink must have been of the cheap, slow-drying variety. And on the far left, the stove that received Rodolfo’s play (although the flames weren’t particularly well-coordinated with the music).
Acts 2 and 3 were presented with just a “pause” between them, with projections displayed on a large surface against the back wall and two narrower but equally tall surfaces on each side. There were of course a few tables and chairs at the Cafe Momus; interestingly, when Musetta and Alcindoro were seated, their table was roped off on one side. The “pause,” which I was told was director’s choice, was inexpertly handled. It’s fun to watch the Metropolitan Opera scene changes, as they wheel around immense sets, but here the details of plugging in the streetlight and taping down its electrical line should have been done behind a curtain. Act 4 was back in the garrett. Were they really going to lead Mimi to one of the lower bunks? As it turned out, during the fight that immediately preceded Mimi’s entrance, one of the mattresses was removed and thrown to center stage, there to receive the body of one of the Bohemians (Schaunard?) who had been “injured” in the “duel.”
Our cast:
Mimi: Marie Plette
Rodolfo: David Gustafson
Marcello: Eugene Brancoveanu
Musetta: Kristin Clayton
Schaunard: Krassen Karagiozov
Colline: Philip Skinner
Conductor: Alexander Katsman
Director: Eugene Brancoveanu
This was, undisputedly, Eugene Brancoveanu’s show. His Marcello was so ably and powerfully sung that one might venture that the show should have been called Marcello. He was also the director, and he gave his character some extra, atypical, things to do. Keying off of his line “Which of you pretty ladies would care for a bit of love?” at the beginning of Act 2, two streetwalkers responded to his call. At the end of Act 3, he slugged the man that Musetta had been dancing with, and finished the act by walking offstage with one of the streetwalkers after slipping her a $5 bill. (No francs or euros to be had?)
Philip Skinner, the veteran of 375 performances at San Francisco Opera was also a highlight. It was too bad that he got to sing to his overcoat for only two minutes. It was a pleasure to see Krassen Karagiozov, former resident artist at Opera San Jose, again. All of the principals sang well enough; the minor characters, not so much. As is often the case with “regional” orchestras, the playing was a bit rocky to start with, but did manage to reach an even keel before too long. A beta.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
I Capuleti e i Montecchi, San Francisco Opera, Sept. 27 2012
Bellini’s I Capuleti e i Montecchi is being advertised as The Capulets and the Montagues, but since it is sung in Italian I’ll use the proper Italian title. It is not “Romeo and Juliet;” the plot is drawn from the same source that Shakespeare used. Shakespeare told the story with his modifications, while Bellini and his librettist Felice Romani made theirs. In this opera, the action takes place within a span of 24 hours, Romeo and Giulietta are already in love before the curtain opens, and Friar Laurence is a doctor because the stage was not permitted to portray religious characters. Nevertheless, it is prime bel canto opera, the first of Bellini’s successful works.
As presented in this dress rehearsal, the production is a modern one, not entirely successful but not as outlandish as others. Each of the two acts was divided into three scenes. In Act 1 Scene 1, the main feature was the trapezoidal performing space: left and right walls slanting back to a rear wall that was substantially less than the width of the proscenium. On these walls were projected abstract designs of a vague and nebulous nature. Suspended above the chorus were seven rows each containing four saddles, whose purpose escaped me.
In the second scene, the trapezoidal space was replaced by a triangular space, with the intersection of the left and right walls occurring somewhat to the right of center. On the left wall, approximately in the middle of the entire left-right distance, was a porcelain sink. The presence of this sink confused all of the reviewers that I have read, but I think that my law-enforcement friend nailed it. He said that it was just like a San Quentin prison cell; the set is supposed to suggest that Giulietta is imprisoned in a gilded cage. At one point she climbed up, stood in/on the sink, and reached as high up the wall as she could, suggesting an escape attempt. Also notable was the floor: highly reflective, as good as a mirror. I wondered what it was actually made of.
In the third scene, we were back to the trapezoidal space, but this time the trapezoid was filled with bleachers. There was a rectangular opening in the back wall, and the bleachers continued through this opening and back as far as the eye could see.
Act 2 Scene 1 was the bleachers again, but this time the front of the stage was occupied by four giant cylinders, arranged like a picture frame. Scene 2 was the triangular space, and scene 3 was the trapezoidal space, with a low platform for Giuletta’s tomb.
Our cast:
Giulietta: Nicole Cabell
Romeo: Joyce DiDonato
Tebaldo: Saimir Pirgu
Lorenzo: Ao Li
Capellio: Eric Owens
Conductor: Riccardo Frizza
Director: Vincent Boussard
Set Designer: Vincent Lemaire
I don’t normally comment on the performances at a dress rehearsal because the singers may not be singing at full voice. Nevertheless, at this dress rehearsal both Nicole Cabell and Joyce DiDonato were magnificent. I will be very very happy if they sing this well at the regular performance.
As presented in this dress rehearsal, the production is a modern one, not entirely successful but not as outlandish as others. Each of the two acts was divided into three scenes. In Act 1 Scene 1, the main feature was the trapezoidal performing space: left and right walls slanting back to a rear wall that was substantially less than the width of the proscenium. On these walls were projected abstract designs of a vague and nebulous nature. Suspended above the chorus were seven rows each containing four saddles, whose purpose escaped me.
In the second scene, the trapezoidal space was replaced by a triangular space, with the intersection of the left and right walls occurring somewhat to the right of center. On the left wall, approximately in the middle of the entire left-right distance, was a porcelain sink. The presence of this sink confused all of the reviewers that I have read, but I think that my law-enforcement friend nailed it. He said that it was just like a San Quentin prison cell; the set is supposed to suggest that Giulietta is imprisoned in a gilded cage. At one point she climbed up, stood in/on the sink, and reached as high up the wall as she could, suggesting an escape attempt. Also notable was the floor: highly reflective, as good as a mirror. I wondered what it was actually made of.
In the third scene, we were back to the trapezoidal space, but this time the trapezoid was filled with bleachers. There was a rectangular opening in the back wall, and the bleachers continued through this opening and back as far as the eye could see.
Act 2 Scene 1 was the bleachers again, but this time the front of the stage was occupied by four giant cylinders, arranged like a picture frame. Scene 2 was the triangular space, and scene 3 was the trapezoidal space, with a low platform for Giuletta’s tomb.
Our cast:
Giulietta: Nicole Cabell
Romeo: Joyce DiDonato
Tebaldo: Saimir Pirgu
Lorenzo: Ao Li
Capellio: Eric Owens
Conductor: Riccardo Frizza
Director: Vincent Boussard
Set Designer: Vincent Lemaire
I don’t normally comment on the performances at a dress rehearsal because the singers may not be singing at full voice. Nevertheless, at this dress rehearsal both Nicole Cabell and Joyce DiDonato were magnificent. I will be very very happy if they sing this well at the regular performance.
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