We’ve seen this Tosca before in the HD Live series, but that was four years ago, beyond the scope of these commentaries. This was the controversial Luc Bondy production, successor to the much-loved (at least by the audience), grandiose Franco Zeffirelli production.
Act 1 takes place in the church of Sant’Andrea del Valle. We saw what looked like the inside of a church nearing completion. Walls of dark gray brick rose out of sight, so the basic structure of the church was complete, but it had not yet been decorated with all of the artwork so characteristic of Italian churches. Cavaradossi was beginning that task, painting a picture of Mary Magdalene on what would turn out to be paper. The nave of the church, where pews would later be installed, was completely bare except for some bits of broken rock or brick. A few folding chairs were off to one side.
Scarpia’s office, the setting for Act 2, was similarly plain, with flat plaster walls and large windows. Three prostitutes in R-rated costumes lounged on 1950s-modern sofas and occasionally pawed at Scarpia. This made no sense at all. Scarpia told us that he seeks violent sexual conquest; he’s hardly the kind of guy to pay for it.
The top of the Castel Sant'Angelo, for Act 3, seemed to be an echo of the church of Act 1, being built out of dark gray brick. The center of the stage was occupied by a walkway; to the right, the building receded into the distance with a structure on top of it, with stairs leading to its upper reaches. Part of that structure formed a 90° angle in which Cavaradossi positioned himself for the execution.
Our cast:
Tosca: Patricia Racette
Cavaradossi: Roberto Alagna
Scarpia: George Gagnidze
Angelotti: Richard Bernstein
Sacristan: John Del Carlo
Conductor: Riccardo Frizza
Production: Luc Bondy
Patricia Racette has had a busy autumn. She was Marguerite in Mefistofele and stepped in at the last minute to learn the role of Dolores Claiborne for the world-premiere production. (And she’ll be back in San Francisco in June for Madama Butterfly and Show Boat.) She sang well enough but not astoundingly so. Roberto Alagna also sang well, but didn’t budge my meter as far as Marcelo Alvarez did in the previous broadcast. George Gagnidze’s Scarpia was even more impressive than in that previous broadcast. It was a production worth seeing the encore of, but with no one to come with me, it was easy to opt out of. A beta.
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
The Flying Dutchman, San Francisco Opera, Nov. 7 2013
Having seen the dress rehearsal of Dolores Claiborne, and concluding that a story even more sordid than Rigoletto (domestic violence, child sexual abuse) needed Rigoletto-quality music but didn’t get it, I traded our Dolores Claiborne subscription tickets for an additional performance of The Flying Dutchman. No regrets.
Our cast:
The Dutchman: Greer Grimsley
Senta: Lise Lindstrom
Daland: Kristinn Sigmundsson
Erik: Ian Storey
The Steersman: A. J. Glueckert
Conductor: Patrick Summers
Director: Petrika Ionesco
Things seemed to have been settling into place as this difficult production (the one in which the director was fired a week before the opening) found its bearings. No significant changes in the sets or the stage action, and the singing was a bit better. A beta.
Our cast:
The Dutchman: Greer Grimsley
Senta: Lise Lindstrom
Daland: Kristinn Sigmundsson
Erik: Ian Storey
The Steersman: A. J. Glueckert
Conductor: Patrick Summers
Director: Petrika Ionesco
Things seemed to have been settling into place as this difficult production (the one in which the director was fired a week before the opening) found its bearings. No significant changes in the sets or the stage action, and the singing was a bit better. A beta.
The Flying Dutchman, San Francisco Opera, Nov. 3 2013
This will turn out to be my second of four trips to see San Francisco’s Flying Dutchman: one dress rehearsal, one regular season subscription, one as a result of exchanging my Dolores Claiborne ticket for something much more worthwhile, and one senior rush ticket. The sets are described in the report of the dress rehearsal.
Our cast:
The Dutchman: Greer Grimsley
Senta: Lise Lindstrom
Daland: Kristinn Sigmundsson
Erik: Ian Storey
The Steersman: A. J. Glueckert
Conductor: Patrick Summers
Director: Petrika Ionesco
This was the production that was beset by a number of problems, most notably the dismissal of the director a week prior to the dress rehearsal. General Director David Gockley told us at the dress rehearsal that we could expect to see the production fine-tuned as the run went on. There were probably some subtle differences between today’s performance and the dress rehearsal, but none were particularly noteworthy. We still had Daland’s ship backing into the fjord, the projections of astronomical photographs, half the women sweeping while the other half spun, etc.
Greer Grimsley sang well enough as the Dutchman, but wasn’t particularly remarkable. Lise Lindstrom’s Senta sounded a bit underpowered. My favorite of the principals was bass Kristinn Sigmundsson, the Icelandic biology teacher. A. J. Glueckert, as the Steersman, baffled me with his action of threatening the Dutchman with a pistol just as the Dutchman began to explain himself to Daland. Wonderful music, good enough singing, sort of cockeyed production ... not quite a beta.
Our cast:
The Dutchman: Greer Grimsley
Senta: Lise Lindstrom
Daland: Kristinn Sigmundsson
Erik: Ian Storey
The Steersman: A. J. Glueckert
Conductor: Patrick Summers
Director: Petrika Ionesco
This was the production that was beset by a number of problems, most notably the dismissal of the director a week prior to the dress rehearsal. General Director David Gockley told us at the dress rehearsal that we could expect to see the production fine-tuned as the run went on. There were probably some subtle differences between today’s performance and the dress rehearsal, but none were particularly noteworthy. We still had Daland’s ship backing into the fjord, the projections of astronomical photographs, half the women sweeping while the other half spun, etc.
Greer Grimsley sang well enough as the Dutchman, but wasn’t particularly remarkable. Lise Lindstrom’s Senta sounded a bit underpowered. My favorite of the principals was bass Kristinn Sigmundsson, the Icelandic biology teacher. A. J. Glueckert, as the Steersman, baffled me with his action of threatening the Dutchman with a pistol just as the Dutchman began to explain himself to Daland. Wonderful music, good enough singing, sort of cockeyed production ... not quite a beta.
Sunday, December 8, 2013
The Nose, Metropolitan Opera HD broadcast, Oct. 26 2013
The Nose was Shostakovich’s first opera, written at the age of 20. (He would go on to write Lady Macbeth of the Mtensk District plus an operetta and two incomplete operas.) The plot of The Nose is derived from a satirical short story by Nikolai Gogol, in which a petty bureaucrat loses his nose to a barber’s razor. The nose takes on a life of its own, the bureaucrat pursues it and ultimately restores it to his face, suffering a number of absurd indignities along the way. This short story has been adapted in a number of other ways, perhaps most curiously as a puppet show at the Moscow Museum of Erotic Art, with the victim being Vladimir Putin. (The Russia of today is a far cry from the USSR of the 20th century!)
According to the intermission interview, Peter Gelb wanted to have the noted artist William Kentridge design an opera for the Met, and allowed Kentridge to choose the opera. He chose The Nose, and created a production based on his signature technique of animated films. Rather than smooth, 24- or 30-frames-per-second animations characteristic of Walt Disney cartoons, Kentridge uses a speed of only 4 to ½ frame per second, rendering the animated figures in rather jerky motion. And for the most part, that’s what we saw: singers toward the front of the stage, with jerky animations projected above them to the rear of the stage. Occasionally there was a more conventional set with singers and walls and decorations and props, such as for the scene in which the barber discovers the nose baked into a loaf of bread, and for the scene in which Kolvayov finds that his nose is missing.
Our cast:
Kovalyov: Paulo Szot
Police Inspector: Andrey Popov
The Nose: Alexander Lewis
Conductor: Pavel Smelkov
Production: William Kentridge
There are no fewer than 78 sung roles in this opera, not counting the speaking roles and the chorus, so the Met’s synopsis listed only three of the singers. The New Grove Dictionary of Opera describes the music as a “deliberate experiment,” “astringent and angular, grotesque in its emphasis on musical parody and the clash of tone-colour extremes” with “no pretence at immediate mass accessibility.” Quite so. I feel the same as Rossini did after seeing Lohengrin: “One simply can not judge Wagner’s Lohengrin after a first hearing. Pity I don't intend hearing it a second time.” But I’ll judge The Nose as a delta, and don’t intend hearing it a second time.
According to the intermission interview, Peter Gelb wanted to have the noted artist William Kentridge design an opera for the Met, and allowed Kentridge to choose the opera. He chose The Nose, and created a production based on his signature technique of animated films. Rather than smooth, 24- or 30-frames-per-second animations characteristic of Walt Disney cartoons, Kentridge uses a speed of only 4 to ½ frame per second, rendering the animated figures in rather jerky motion. And for the most part, that’s what we saw: singers toward the front of the stage, with jerky animations projected above them to the rear of the stage. Occasionally there was a more conventional set with singers and walls and decorations and props, such as for the scene in which the barber discovers the nose baked into a loaf of bread, and for the scene in which Kolvayov finds that his nose is missing.
Our cast:
Kovalyov: Paulo Szot
Police Inspector: Andrey Popov
The Nose: Alexander Lewis
Conductor: Pavel Smelkov
Production: William Kentridge
There are no fewer than 78 sung roles in this opera, not counting the speaking roles and the chorus, so the Met’s synopsis listed only three of the singers. The New Grove Dictionary of Opera describes the music as a “deliberate experiment,” “astringent and angular, grotesque in its emphasis on musical parody and the clash of tone-colour extremes” with “no pretence at immediate mass accessibility.” Quite so. I feel the same as Rossini did after seeing Lohengrin: “One simply can not judge Wagner’s Lohengrin after a first hearing. Pity I don't intend hearing it a second time.” But I’ll judge The Nose as a delta, and don’t intend hearing it a second time.
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
Falstaff, San Francisco Opera, Oct. 24 2013
My first San Francisco Opera Falstaff of the current season was viewed from a seat somewhat left of center of the Grand Tier (the first balcony), courtesy of senior rush. This time, courtesy of exchanging tickets from our regular subscription performance day, I wound up in the third row of orchestra center. Whether it was the closer-in seats, or the benefit of the performers having had in effect two additional rehearsals, it was a better experience.
The set remained the same as that of the first time, but this time we got to hear the advertised Nannetta: Heidi Stober had been ill on Oct. 15. So,
Our cast: Falstaff: Bryn Terfel
Bardolfo: Greg Fedderly
Pistola: Andrea Silvestrelli
Dr. Caius: Joel Sorensen
Ford: Fabio Capitanucci
Fenton: Francesco Demuro
Nannetta: Heidi Stober
Meg Page: Renee Rapier
Alice Ford: Ainhoa Arteta
Dame Quickly: Meredith Arwady
Conductor: Nicola Luisotti
Director: Olivier Tambosi
Everyone continued to sing well, but the sparkle of the Opera San Jose performances continued to be missing. A bit higher than the beta of the first performance.
The set remained the same as that of the first time, but this time we got to hear the advertised Nannetta: Heidi Stober had been ill on Oct. 15. So,
Our cast: Falstaff: Bryn Terfel
Bardolfo: Greg Fedderly
Pistola: Andrea Silvestrelli
Dr. Caius: Joel Sorensen
Ford: Fabio Capitanucci
Fenton: Francesco Demuro
Nannetta: Heidi Stober
Meg Page: Renee Rapier
Alice Ford: Ainhoa Arteta
Dame Quickly: Meredith Arwady
Conductor: Nicola Luisotti
Director: Olivier Tambosi
Everyone continued to sing well, but the sparkle of the Opera San Jose performances continued to be missing. A bit higher than the beta of the first performance.
The Flying Dutchman (dress rehearsal), San Francisco Opera, Oct. 19 2013
An invitation to the dress rehearsal of The Flying Dutchman was a benefit of my volunteering in an official capacity for the East Bay Chapter of the San Francisco Opera Guild. We were treated to a luncheon beforehand, complete with remarks by San Francisco Opera general director David Gockley. Gockley informed us that the production had been beset with a number of problems, and he had (finally) had to fire the director and set designer, Petrika Ionesco, who filled both roles. As near as I can tell, the production was getting to be just too weird. For example, the Dutchman was supposed to arrive in a rocket ship. This production was based on the production at Opéra Royal de Wallonie-Liège. To see that production’s staged overture, which takes place in a graveyard, see YouTube.
So we were wondering just what we were going to get. Three productions prior, in 1988, it was the Jean-Pierre Ponnelle production, famous for interpreting the story as the fantastic dream of the steersman. That staging was one of the most visually impressive that I have ever seen. Most notably, the arrival of the Dutchman’s ship was represented by the sudden turning-on of stage lights that illuminated the blood-red sails of the Dutchman’s ship, with dead bodies hanging from the cobweb-like rigging. Awe-inspiring! Then we got the no-ship production, where all we could see was a wharf and a long rope leading out of sight. And Senta had no picture of the Dutchman to concentrate on. Most recently, the ship returned, but just the outline of the ship: its ribs, and the lowermost deck of the ship, just above the keel.
This time, the audience found itself on the deck of a ship, complete with a hatch to below-decks and a structure at the back of the stage that included a large smokestack (?) and a balcony from which the helmsman could steer the ship. Projections to the left, right, and back showed the ship entering a fjord with tall snowy peaks all around. The disconcerting thing was that the ship seemed to be backing into the fjord, with the helmsman facing opposite to the direction of motion.
A lot happened with these projections. In addition to the peaks surrounding the fjord, at various times throughout the opera we also saw astronomical photographs of the center of a spiral galaxy; just the closed eyes of a face, presumably the face of the Dutchman; and the surface of the open ocean. Only partially successful.
For the second act, the projection screens to the right and left were replaced by two-story, balcony-like structures. The only women “spinning” were on that upper balcony level, and they weren’t so much spinning as they were winding the spun yarn onto spindles. On the main floor, the other women were either mopping the floor, or dyeing large sheets of cloth, either bedsheets or sails. The hatch to below-decks was still present; it served as the place from which a large triangular sail could be raised, and projections on that sail accompanied Senta’s Ballad and the subsequent action of Act 2.
For the third act, the projection screens returned to the right and left; to the rear was the wall of a large brick building. For the finale, the brick wall went away, to be replaced by a projection screen; all of the screens showed the surface of the ocean, and Senta leaped to her death from the back end of the raked stage. Then the projections changed to the spiral galaxy, with two bright stars moving in to the center from the left and right, finally merging into one even brighter star.
This being a dress rehearsal, comments on the performance will have to wait until a regular subscription performance.
So we were wondering just what we were going to get. Three productions prior, in 1988, it was the Jean-Pierre Ponnelle production, famous for interpreting the story as the fantastic dream of the steersman. That staging was one of the most visually impressive that I have ever seen. Most notably, the arrival of the Dutchman’s ship was represented by the sudden turning-on of stage lights that illuminated the blood-red sails of the Dutchman’s ship, with dead bodies hanging from the cobweb-like rigging. Awe-inspiring! Then we got the no-ship production, where all we could see was a wharf and a long rope leading out of sight. And Senta had no picture of the Dutchman to concentrate on. Most recently, the ship returned, but just the outline of the ship: its ribs, and the lowermost deck of the ship, just above the keel.
This time, the audience found itself on the deck of a ship, complete with a hatch to below-decks and a structure at the back of the stage that included a large smokestack (?) and a balcony from which the helmsman could steer the ship. Projections to the left, right, and back showed the ship entering a fjord with tall snowy peaks all around. The disconcerting thing was that the ship seemed to be backing into the fjord, with the helmsman facing opposite to the direction of motion.
A lot happened with these projections. In addition to the peaks surrounding the fjord, at various times throughout the opera we also saw astronomical photographs of the center of a spiral galaxy; just the closed eyes of a face, presumably the face of the Dutchman; and the surface of the open ocean. Only partially successful.
For the second act, the projection screens to the right and left were replaced by two-story, balcony-like structures. The only women “spinning” were on that upper balcony level, and they weren’t so much spinning as they were winding the spun yarn onto spindles. On the main floor, the other women were either mopping the floor, or dyeing large sheets of cloth, either bedsheets or sails. The hatch to below-decks was still present; it served as the place from which a large triangular sail could be raised, and projections on that sail accompanied Senta’s Ballad and the subsequent action of Act 2.
For the third act, the projection screens returned to the right and left; to the rear was the wall of a large brick building. For the finale, the brick wall went away, to be replaced by a projection screen; all of the screens showed the surface of the ocean, and Senta leaped to her death from the back end of the raked stage. Then the projections changed to the spiral galaxy, with two bright stars moving in to the center from the left and right, finally merging into one even brighter star.
This being a dress rehearsal, comments on the performance will have to wait until a regular subscription performance.
Falstaff, San Francisco Opera, Oct. 15 2013
It’s quite a season for Verdi’s final opera: it’s on the schedule for Opera San Jose, San Francisco Opera, the Metropolitan Opera, and the Los Angeles Opera. San Jose performed Falstaff in September; now it’s San Francisco’s turn.
The staging was a bit unusual without being completely off-the-wall. The stage was dominated by two elements. The first was the walls that surrounded the stage, left, back, and right. For the most part the walls were flat, but with slight protuberances and light drawings on them so that they could give the audience the appearance of being either inside or outside, depending upon how you looked at them. The second element was a gigantic trap door in the middle of the raked stage. The trap door was opened to the maximum for the scenes at the Garter Inn (the first scene of each of the three acts); when opened the underside of the trap door supported a number of bright-red planks. At the right, toward the rear of the trap door opening, was Falstaff’s favorite chair. The trap door and its bright-red color scheme reminded me (too much) of the final scene of Don Giovanni in at least one production that I have seen, in which the Don is dragged off to hell via just such a trap door that opens in his dining room.
The set for Act 3 Scene 2 was the most effective of the evening. The back wall was removed to reveal what at first appeared to be just a black night sky with stars. Then a gigantic full moon rose, very slowly, and as it rose we could see more and more of the silhouette of Herne’s Oak.
Our cast:
Falstaff: Bryn Terfel
Bardolfo: Greg Fedderly
Pistola: Andrea Silvestrelli
Dr. Caius: Joel Sorensen
Ford: Fabio Capitanucci
Fenton: Francesco Demuro
Nannetta: Lisette Oropesa
Meg Page: Renee Rapier
Alice Ford: Ainhoa Arteta
Dame Quickly: Meredith Arwady
Conductor: Nicola Luisotti
Director: Olivier Tambosi
Bryn Terfel was every bit as good as Scott Bearden of the Opera San Jose cast; Ainhoa Arteta was superb as Alice Ford; but perhaps the most impressive was Meredith Arwady, who sang a true contralto that not many women can reach. Andrea Silvestrelli, one of my all-time favorites, sounded wonderful, but he seemed to have been under-directed, frequently having nothing to do but just stand around. Overall, the performance lacked the sparkle that Opera San Jose had brought to the same opera just a few weeks before. A beta, but no more.
The staging was a bit unusual without being completely off-the-wall. The stage was dominated by two elements. The first was the walls that surrounded the stage, left, back, and right. For the most part the walls were flat, but with slight protuberances and light drawings on them so that they could give the audience the appearance of being either inside or outside, depending upon how you looked at them. The second element was a gigantic trap door in the middle of the raked stage. The trap door was opened to the maximum for the scenes at the Garter Inn (the first scene of each of the three acts); when opened the underside of the trap door supported a number of bright-red planks. At the right, toward the rear of the trap door opening, was Falstaff’s favorite chair. The trap door and its bright-red color scheme reminded me (too much) of the final scene of Don Giovanni in at least one production that I have seen, in which the Don is dragged off to hell via just such a trap door that opens in his dining room.
The set for Act 3 Scene 2 was the most effective of the evening. The back wall was removed to reveal what at first appeared to be just a black night sky with stars. Then a gigantic full moon rose, very slowly, and as it rose we could see more and more of the silhouette of Herne’s Oak.
Our cast:
Falstaff: Bryn Terfel
Bardolfo: Greg Fedderly
Pistola: Andrea Silvestrelli
Dr. Caius: Joel Sorensen
Ford: Fabio Capitanucci
Fenton: Francesco Demuro
Nannetta: Lisette Oropesa
Meg Page: Renee Rapier
Alice Ford: Ainhoa Arteta
Dame Quickly: Meredith Arwady
Conductor: Nicola Luisotti
Director: Olivier Tambosi
Bryn Terfel was every bit as good as Scott Bearden of the Opera San Jose cast; Ainhoa Arteta was superb as Alice Ford; but perhaps the most impressive was Meredith Arwady, who sang a true contralto that not many women can reach. Andrea Silvestrelli, one of my all-time favorites, sounded wonderful, but he seemed to have been under-directed, frequently having nothing to do but just stand around. Overall, the performance lacked the sparkle that Opera San Jose had brought to the same opera just a few weeks before. A beta, but no more.
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Carmen, Livermore Valley Opera, Oct. 6 2013
It was over the hills to Livermore for a performance of Carmen by one of the area’s fine opera companies, where I’ve enjoyed some good performances. Unfortunately this was not one of them.
There was no problem with the sets; they were true to the time and place. The first act featured a fairly small town square of adobe buildings to the right and left, with brick quoins. To the rear was a low wall, beyond which we could see more distant buildings. The tobacco factory was hidden out of sight to the left, and the cigarette girls made their entrance in the gap between the building on the left and the low wall at the rear. Act 2 in the tavern continued the adobe-and-brick theme, with a rustic table and a couple of chairs in the middle. Act 3, the smugglers’ camp, was set among rocks, with some of the brick-and-adobe corners left over from the previous acts. Act 4, at the bull ring, was dominated by a large steel double gate set within an archway. Completely conventional, nothing dramatic, but nothing offensive either.
Our cast:
Carmen: Cybele Gouverneur
Don Jose: Christopher Bengochea
Escamillo: Eugene Brancoveanu
Micaëla: Christie Hageman
Zuniga: Efrain Solis
Le Remendado: Michael Desnoyers
Le Dancaïre: Bernardo Bermudez
Morales: Juan Donyea Dunn
Frasquita: Elena Galvan
Mercedes: Nikola Printz
Conductor: Alexander Katsman
Director: Eugene Brancoveanu
This was the first time that I had heard Christie Hageman after she took second place in the 2013 Irene Dalis Vocal Competition. Her first-act aria was meltingly beautiful. Eugene Brancoveanu was a powerhouse in the Toreador Song, which he finished with a back flip off the table. Christopher Bengochea was an effective Don Jose; Cybele Gouverneur sang well as Carmen, but lacked the sultriness of the best Carmens.
These fine singers did their best to salvage what was otherwise a marginal production. The chorus was notably understaffed. My primary recollection will be the “chorus” of Act 1, with ten men. It sure looked (and sounded) as though only three of them were actually singing. Furthermore, a lot of cuts were made. Recollection says that all of the spoken dialogue was missing, which would explain the sudden transition in Act 2 from the opening dance directly to the arrival of Escamillo. Some of the introductory music of Act 3 was missing, as was much of the crowd scene at the beginning of Act 4. Despite a good performance by the principals, the overall effect was no more than a gamma.
a;ld,;la,dfa;dlf,
There was no problem with the sets; they were true to the time and place. The first act featured a fairly small town square of adobe buildings to the right and left, with brick quoins. To the rear was a low wall, beyond which we could see more distant buildings. The tobacco factory was hidden out of sight to the left, and the cigarette girls made their entrance in the gap between the building on the left and the low wall at the rear. Act 2 in the tavern continued the adobe-and-brick theme, with a rustic table and a couple of chairs in the middle. Act 3, the smugglers’ camp, was set among rocks, with some of the brick-and-adobe corners left over from the previous acts. Act 4, at the bull ring, was dominated by a large steel double gate set within an archway. Completely conventional, nothing dramatic, but nothing offensive either.
Our cast:
Carmen: Cybele Gouverneur
Don Jose: Christopher Bengochea
Escamillo: Eugene Brancoveanu
Micaëla: Christie Hageman
Zuniga: Efrain Solis
Le Remendado: Michael Desnoyers
Le Dancaïre: Bernardo Bermudez
Morales: Juan Donyea Dunn
Frasquita: Elena Galvan
Mercedes: Nikola Printz
Conductor: Alexander Katsman
Director: Eugene Brancoveanu
This was the first time that I had heard Christie Hageman after she took second place in the 2013 Irene Dalis Vocal Competition. Her first-act aria was meltingly beautiful. Eugene Brancoveanu was a powerhouse in the Toreador Song, which he finished with a back flip off the table. Christopher Bengochea was an effective Don Jose; Cybele Gouverneur sang well as Carmen, but lacked the sultriness of the best Carmens.
These fine singers did their best to salvage what was otherwise a marginal production. The chorus was notably understaffed. My primary recollection will be the “chorus” of Act 1, with ten men. It sure looked (and sounded) as though only three of them were actually singing. Furthermore, a lot of cuts were made. Recollection says that all of the spoken dialogue was missing, which would explain the sudden transition in Act 2 from the opening dance directly to the arrival of Escamillo. Some of the introductory music of Act 3 was missing, as was much of the crowd scene at the beginning of Act 4. Despite a good performance by the principals, the overall effect was no more than a gamma.
a;ld,;la,dfa;dlf,
Monday, October 28, 2013
Eugene Onegin, Metropolitan Opera HD Live (encore), Oct. 9 2013
This was the second time that the Met had presented Eugene Onegin on the HD Live series, the previous time being in February of 2007 in a production that was pretty stark and sterile. This new production’s second half retained the stark and sterile, but the first half was more visually appealing.
The first act was set in a room in the Larin mansion that seemed to be a transition from “inside” to “outside.” The back wall of the set comprised about half a dozen panels of large windows, with pull-down shades in front of each window. One panel was omitted, which permitted us to look out into the garden beyond, said garden consisting of birch trees. Inside was some fairly simple wooden furniture, the kind that wouldn’t get hurt too much if subjected to the elements. To the right, a short flight of painted wooden steps led into the house proper. For Tatiana’s letter scene, the curtain came down, stagehands pushed things around to no great effect, and the curtain came back up on a room that looked pretty much the same, just darker. Then the stagehands put things back the way they were for the final scene.
Act 2 Scene 1 was set in the ballroom of the Larin estate. This time we saw back to the rear wall of the ballroom, with a large opening (the width of several doors) to another large room. A few windows in the back wall, and a few upholstered dining chairs completed the set. For Scene 2, the duel, we returned to stark and sterile, not that the previous scenes had been particularly lavish. The ground was black and shiny, and dotted with a few small leafless trees; a larger, fallen leafless tree occupied much of center stage. Well, it’s winter, that’s OK.
In Act 3, several years later, we were at another ball, this time in St. Petersburg. The ballroom dancers needed to navigate among a number of wide marble columns that rose out of sight. An simple but elegant upholstered dining chair was positioned in front of each of the forward columns. Scene 2 dimmed the lights, removed the chairs, retained the columns, and added a small leafless tree and falling snow.
Our cast:
Eugene Onegin: Mariusz Kwiecien
Tatiana: Anna Netrebko
Olga: Oksana Volkova
Lenski: Piotr Beczala
Prince Gremin: Alexei Tanovitski
Conductor: Valery Gergiev
Production: Deborah Warner
Director: Fiona Shaw
Most of the principals sang well, although the general mood seemed subdued; Anna Netrebko, whom I have been following for nearly 20 years, was more suited to the matronly role of Mrs. Gremin than to the young woman who fell head-over-heels for Onegin. Alexei Tanovitski must have been having an off day. I’ve not heard him before, but his aria for Prince Gremin in Act 3 fell flat, I’ve heard better from regional opera companies. I doubt that this performance will have any staying power at all in my memory, so it’s short of a beta.
The first act was set in a room in the Larin mansion that seemed to be a transition from “inside” to “outside.” The back wall of the set comprised about half a dozen panels of large windows, with pull-down shades in front of each window. One panel was omitted, which permitted us to look out into the garden beyond, said garden consisting of birch trees. Inside was some fairly simple wooden furniture, the kind that wouldn’t get hurt too much if subjected to the elements. To the right, a short flight of painted wooden steps led into the house proper. For Tatiana’s letter scene, the curtain came down, stagehands pushed things around to no great effect, and the curtain came back up on a room that looked pretty much the same, just darker. Then the stagehands put things back the way they were for the final scene.
Act 2 Scene 1 was set in the ballroom of the Larin estate. This time we saw back to the rear wall of the ballroom, with a large opening (the width of several doors) to another large room. A few windows in the back wall, and a few upholstered dining chairs completed the set. For Scene 2, the duel, we returned to stark and sterile, not that the previous scenes had been particularly lavish. The ground was black and shiny, and dotted with a few small leafless trees; a larger, fallen leafless tree occupied much of center stage. Well, it’s winter, that’s OK.
In Act 3, several years later, we were at another ball, this time in St. Petersburg. The ballroom dancers needed to navigate among a number of wide marble columns that rose out of sight. An simple but elegant upholstered dining chair was positioned in front of each of the forward columns. Scene 2 dimmed the lights, removed the chairs, retained the columns, and added a small leafless tree and falling snow.
Our cast:
Eugene Onegin: Mariusz Kwiecien
Tatiana: Anna Netrebko
Olga: Oksana Volkova
Lenski: Piotr Beczala
Prince Gremin: Alexei Tanovitski
Conductor: Valery Gergiev
Production: Deborah Warner
Director: Fiona Shaw
Most of the principals sang well, although the general mood seemed subdued; Anna Netrebko, whom I have been following for nearly 20 years, was more suited to the matronly role of Mrs. Gremin than to the young woman who fell head-over-heels for Onegin. Alexei Tanovitski must have been having an off day. I’ve not heard him before, but his aria for Prince Gremin in Act 3 fell flat, I’ve heard better from regional opera companies. I doubt that this performance will have any staying power at all in my memory, so it’s short of a beta.
Thursday, October 24, 2013
Mefistofele, San Francisco Opera, Sept. 29 2013
I wish that I could have seen every performance of Boito’s Mefistofele, but other things got in the way. The music is wonderful, the sets were magnificent, the entire performance was “beyond spectacular” in the words of a friend who sings bass for Opera San Jose. But I only got to see the dress rehearsal, the performance of Sept. 20, and this penultimate performance. This cast was the same as the cast of Sept. 20, with the exception of Elena.
Our cast:
Mefistofele: Ildar Abdrazakov
Faust: Ramon Vargas
Wagner: Chuanyue Wang
Margherita: Patricia Racette
Elena: Marina Harris
Conductor: Nicola Luisotti
Production: Robert Carsen
Again, a fabulous afternoon in the theater, but Samuel Ramey still owns the role of Mefistofele for all time. Almost an alpha. It was 19 years between productions in San Francisco; I hope we don’t have to wait that long again.
Our cast:
Mefistofele: Ildar Abdrazakov
Faust: Ramon Vargas
Wagner: Chuanyue Wang
Margherita: Patricia Racette
Elena: Marina Harris
Conductor: Nicola Luisotti
Production: Robert Carsen
Again, a fabulous afternoon in the theater, but Samuel Ramey still owns the role of Mefistofele for all time. Almost an alpha. It was 19 years between productions in San Francisco; I hope we don’t have to wait that long again.
Falstaff, Opera San Jose, Sept. 17 2013
Back to San Jose to see Falstaff again, this time with the other cast than the one that we saw on Sept. 12. (Opera San Jose presents eight performances of each opera, four performances by “Cast 1” and four by “Cast A”.) The sets and direction were the same as before, just different singers.
Our cast (Cast 1):
Falstaff: Steven Condy
Fenton: Marc Schreiner
Alice Ford: Rebekah Camm
Ford: Evan Brummel
Bardolfo: Chris Coyne
Pistola: Johann Schram Reed
Meg Page: Buffy Baggott
Dame Quickly: Patrice Houston
Dr. Caius: Michael Desnoyers
Nannetta: Sarah Duchovnay
Conductor: Ming Luke
Director: Jose Maria Condemi
Again, the performance was highly enjoyable, though it didn’t quite reach the level of Cast A. My friends who saw only Cast 1 were very pleased with what they heard. I’ll leave it with a strong beta.
Our cast (Cast 1):
Falstaff: Steven Condy
Fenton: Marc Schreiner
Alice Ford: Rebekah Camm
Ford: Evan Brummel
Bardolfo: Chris Coyne
Pistola: Johann Schram Reed
Meg Page: Buffy Baggott
Dame Quickly: Patrice Houston
Dr. Caius: Michael Desnoyers
Nannetta: Sarah Duchovnay
Conductor: Ming Luke
Director: Jose Maria Condemi
Again, the performance was highly enjoyable, though it didn’t quite reach the level of Cast A. My friends who saw only Cast 1 were very pleased with what they heard. I’ll leave it with a strong beta.
Falstaff, Opera San Jose, Sept. 12 2013
Falstaff was Verdi’s final opera, following Aida and Otello, and only his second comedy—his first, Un Giorno di Regno, had bombed at its premiere. It’s rather different than his prior operas. There is only one proper “aria” (Falstaff’s discourse on honor, and Ford’s on cuckoldry, are “monologues”), and the melodies come so thick and fast that it’s easy to get the impression that there are no melodies. Studying for the opera beforehand is always productive, but I got even more than usual out of studying (and presenting) Falstaff. I had seen Falstaff a few times, and had never gotten much out of it. This time, with study and with a top-notch performance by Opera San Jose, I finally got it.
The sets were simple but lovely. All six scenes were set, more or less, within a gigantic wine barrel, befitting Falstaff’s love of drink and the fact that half the scenes take place within or just outside a tavern. It was as though you were looking through a wine barrel, from the middle back to the end. There were three huge three-quarter circles (“ribs”) that encompassed the stage, the largest one in front, the smallest in back. In Act 1 Scene 1, the back of the barrel (or its bottom) was rough-hewn wood, with a small door at the bottom through which characters could enter and exit. At the left there was a small pile of barrels; to the right, a table made from a slab of wood supported by two barrels. For Scene 2, we moved to Ford’s home. The back (bottom) of the barrel opened up to reveal a garden with a green hedge running from left to right just in back of the barrel, and a couple of staircases were present at left and right.
Act 2 Scene 1 was back at the tavern, with the same set as before. In Scene 2 we were in a different room in Ford’s house. Now the back of the barrel was the fine wood of a drawing-room, with a deer’s head mounted on a plaque on the wall. In addition to the staircases, there was a bit of furniture: a chair, a table, a cabinet, and of course a folding screen that first Falstaff and then Fenton and Nannetta could hide behind.
Act 3 Scene 1 was back at the tavern, but this time outside of it. To the left was a pile of straw, with a couple of wine barrels imbedded in the straw. Falstaff was brought in in a rustic wooden wheelbarrow and unceremoniously dumped into the pile of straw. Act 3 Scene 2 was set in Windsor Forest. The back of the barrel was open again; just in front of it was a gigantic tree with a very large elliptical hole cut into the trunk, easily large enough for the characters to walk through.
Our cast:
Falstaff: Scott Bearden
Fenton: James Callon
Alice Ford: Jennifer Forni
Ford: Zachary Altman
Bardolfo: Jonathan Smucker
Pistola: Silas Elash
Meg Page: Lisa Chavez
Dame Quickly: Nicole Birkland
Dr. Caius: Robert Norman
Nannetta: Cecilia Violetta López
Conductor: Andrew Whitfield
Director: Jose Maria Condemi
What a team! Scott Bearden should be singing Falstaff all over the country, and everyone else supported him admirably. The performance had the life and the sparkle that a comedy needs. San Francisco Opera and the Metropolitan opera have also scheduled Falstaff for this fall, and they are going to be hard-pressed to top this one. We’re getting into alpha territory here.
The sets were simple but lovely. All six scenes were set, more or less, within a gigantic wine barrel, befitting Falstaff’s love of drink and the fact that half the scenes take place within or just outside a tavern. It was as though you were looking through a wine barrel, from the middle back to the end. There were three huge three-quarter circles (“ribs”) that encompassed the stage, the largest one in front, the smallest in back. In Act 1 Scene 1, the back of the barrel (or its bottom) was rough-hewn wood, with a small door at the bottom through which characters could enter and exit. At the left there was a small pile of barrels; to the right, a table made from a slab of wood supported by two barrels. For Scene 2, we moved to Ford’s home. The back (bottom) of the barrel opened up to reveal a garden with a green hedge running from left to right just in back of the barrel, and a couple of staircases were present at left and right.
Act 2 Scene 1 was back at the tavern, with the same set as before. In Scene 2 we were in a different room in Ford’s house. Now the back of the barrel was the fine wood of a drawing-room, with a deer’s head mounted on a plaque on the wall. In addition to the staircases, there was a bit of furniture: a chair, a table, a cabinet, and of course a folding screen that first Falstaff and then Fenton and Nannetta could hide behind.
Act 3 Scene 1 was back at the tavern, but this time outside of it. To the left was a pile of straw, with a couple of wine barrels imbedded in the straw. Falstaff was brought in in a rustic wooden wheelbarrow and unceremoniously dumped into the pile of straw. Act 3 Scene 2 was set in Windsor Forest. The back of the barrel was open again; just in front of it was a gigantic tree with a very large elliptical hole cut into the trunk, easily large enough for the characters to walk through.
Our cast:
Falstaff: Scott Bearden
Fenton: James Callon
Alice Ford: Jennifer Forni
Ford: Zachary Altman
Bardolfo: Jonathan Smucker
Pistola: Silas Elash
Meg Page: Lisa Chavez
Dame Quickly: Nicole Birkland
Dr. Caius: Robert Norman
Nannetta: Cecilia Violetta López
Conductor: Andrew Whitfield
Director: Jose Maria Condemi
What a team! Scott Bearden should be singing Falstaff all over the country, and everyone else supported him admirably. The performance had the life and the sparkle that a comedy needs. San Francisco Opera and the Metropolitan opera have also scheduled Falstaff for this fall, and they are going to be hard-pressed to top this one. We’re getting into alpha territory here.
Friday, October 11, 2013
Mefistofele, San Francisco Opera, Sept. 20 2013
San Francisco Opera’s 1989 production of Arrigo Boito’s Mefistofele was, and still is, one of my peak experiences in an opera house. The Robert Carsen staging was inventive and served the music and the text rather than doing violence to them. The music was new (to me) and exciting, with lots of superb choral writing. Samuel Ramey as the title character was at the peak of his form. As the announcer on the Sirius/XM Metropolitan Opera channel said, “he was born to perform this role.” Ramey came back for a reprise in 1994. It did not seem to be quite as effective. I wasn’t sure whether the newness and vitality of the opera and its production had worn off, or whether Ramey wasn’t quite the dominating presence that he had been before. Nevertheless, it was another outstanding performance. Mefistofele then disappeared from the San Francisco Opera stage for many years. Even when Pamela Rosenberg initiated a “Faust Project,” with many different composers’ and librettists’ take on the Faust legend, Mefistofele was conspicuously absent. The one time I ever got to talk with Rosenberg, I asked her about this absence, and she said that the sets had gotten so beat up that they were no longer usable. Furthermore, 1989 had receded further and further into history, and I wondered to myself: suppose they did bring back Mefistofele? Ramey had left a gigantic pair of shoes to fill—would anyone be willing to step into those shoes? I’d love to see Kirk Eichelberger do it, but I knew that would be a long shot.
So I was thrilled to see Mefistofele announced as the opening-night opera for San Francisco’s 2013-2014 season. And they even managed to refurbish, or maybe even reconstruct, the Robert Carsen sets, which appeared to depict God’s own opera house. When the curtain went up for the Prologue in Heaven, it revealed another curtain behind it, this one red, with subtle flame projections playing on its surface. To the left and right of the stage were opera boxes, semicircular projections that each accommodated three angels in white garb and white masks. At the top of the stage were a number of white plaster life-size figures with large wings—more angels, with trumpets to their lips. When the red curtain was raised, we saw a scrim with projections of white fluffy clouds that subtly changed shape and slowly descended to stage level. The illumination was gradually turned up behind the scrim to reveal the back wall of a European-style opera house: five towers each having three levels of semicircular boxes, with three chorus members in each box. More angels/opera patrons were seated on stage. For the end of the Prologue, the seated choristers rose and advanced to the front of the stage as they sang (and the orchestra played) an fff finale. Thrilling!
Act 1 Scene 1 (Easter Sunday) was the most colorful and action-packed scene I have ever seen. Most of the large chorus were dressed in brightly-colored clothes and costumes; there were three stilt-walkers, and several of the chorus wore animal costumes, of which the giraffe was the most obvious. A brief procession carried a statue of Christ through the crowd, and later there were a couple of representations of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, including one in which they ate the apple, cast off several layers of clothes, and then went at each other. A friend whose son was in the children’s chorus in the Prologue and Epilogue told me that the children weren’t allowed to see the rest of the opera. And the sets: the five towers of the Prologue had been repositioned and turned sideways. Their sides looked like time-worn stone walls. But with all the action at the front of the stage, the sets in the background were merely incidental. Act 1 Scene 2 in Faust’s study featured a very long (at least half the width of the stage) refracting telescope that was pointed at a square hole that had been cut at the top left of the red curtain from the Prologue. Through the hole could be seen a number of stars. At the end of the act, Mefistofele attached a rope to a harness that Faust wore, the red curtain was raised revealing (in dim light) the boxes of the opera house, and Faust was hoisted several feet in the air as Mefistofele offers to take him “through the air” to wherever he would like to go.
Act 2 Scene 1 was something of a mystery to me. At the rear of the stage, a very large canvas had been hung in front of the box seats; it was painted with blue sky and white clouds, and two red-headed painters (house painters, not artist painters) were working on it. In the center of the stage was a tilted circular platform with four apple trees growing out of it. Its surface looked like Astroturf, and a number of red apples lay on it. To the right, a supernumerary bent over a bucket of apples, peeling them one by one. Near the end of the scene she got up from her chair and worked a large crank that made the circular platform go round and round. I didn’t get it—but it wasn’t offensive, it just didn’t communicate with me. Act 2 Scene 2 is the Walpurgis Night, otherwise known as the Witches’ Sabbath. The scene began with Mefistofele entering the box seats at the left of the stage, descending a ladder to the stage, then ascending another ladder on the right of the stage, all the while pulling a large golden rope. Then Faust appeared, holding the other end of the rope, and similarly descended the ladder, crossed the stage, and climbed up the other ladder. When the curtain behind them rose, we first saw in the dim light a small moon at the back of the stage, with two strings of Christmas tree lights running from the moon to each side of the front of the stage. As the lights went up, we saw a very long table running from the front of the stage to the back. Witches and warlocks were partying in their underwear. Some appeared to not even be wearing underwear, but close examination revealed unnatural stretch marks in what were otherwise extremely effective body suits. When Faust had his vision of Marguerite, a glass box containing a nude woman appeared above stage level and at the rear of the stage; she turned around very slowly as Faust sang that she resembled his Marguerite.
In Act 3, the death of Marguerite, the set referred back to the apple orchard of Act 2 Scene 1. The circular apple orchard had been devastated: the trees were black, twisted shadows of their former selves, while the circular platform was blackened and devastated, with what seemed like a small sinkhole in the middle. The lighting of the back of the stage was pretty dim, but at least one of the towers of box seats was there, because Faust and Mefistofele sang their first lines from one of the boxes.
Act 4, the Classical Walpurgis Night, also known as the Helen of Troy scene, was set in ancient Greece. (Q: What in the hell is Helen of Troy doing in this opera? A: Helen of Troy is in Goethe’s Faust, but in Part 2. Gounod only used Part 1 for his Faust. Boito tried to incorporate Part 2 into his opera, but Part 2 is largely mystical and philosophical and does not lend itself well to opera. And if you trace the Faust legend back through history, you will find that in some of the oldest legends, Faust marries Helen of Troy and has a child by her.) In front of the scrim there were flat cut-outs of Ionian columns and a Greek temple and various kinds of shrubbery. After the scrim rose, we saw another crowd of seated operagoers toward the back of the stage. After Faust had presented a single red rose to Helen, the crowd stood up and advanced toward the front of the stage, then all of the men (dressed in white tie and tails) each presented Helen with a large bouquet of red roses as Helen dropped Faust’s single rose on the floor.
The Epilogue began in Mefistofele’s dressing room. Toward the right of the stage was a coat hanger on wheels, vaguely similar (but simpler) to what you might find in a hotel to help you move your stuff from your car to your room. The floor was strewn with a number of Mefistofele’s cloaks, while Mefistofele himself sat in a chair and flung playing cards around one by one. As Faust’s death approached and the heavenly chorus began to sing, the red curtain behind them rose to reveal God’s opera house of the Prologue, populated as before with angels in the boxes and angels on stage. Six angels carried Faust’s body toward the rear of the stage, while three angels hoisted Mefistofele, writhing and whistling, and carried him off as well. The chorus and the orchestra again built to a tremendous fff climax, with the same music that ended the Prologue.
Our cast:
Mefistofele: Ildar Abdrazakov
Faust: Ramon Vargas
Wagner: Chuanyue Wang
Margherita/Elena: Patricia Racette
Conductor: Nicola Luisotti
Production: Robert Carsen
I very much enjoyed the 2013 Mefistofele, though it fell a bit short of the 1989 performances. As others will probably say about Enrico Caruso or Lauritz Melchior or Lily Pons or Maria Callas, I will say about Samuel Ramey that there will never be another Mefistofele to equal his. He owns that role for all time. Abdrazakov certainly sang well enough, but Ramey had more heft and authority in his voice. Ramey also had an authority of movement that is without equal, at least among basses. I have to wonder whether Ramey had ballet training. When a ballet dancer simply moves his arm, he does so with an authority that is lacking when a regular person makes the same motion. Ramey had that same kind of authority, which I did not find in Abdrazakov. Boito’s Faust may not be Ramon Vargas’s best role. He sounded pinched and constrained and effortful in his singing. Patricia Racette sang beautifully but she lacked the wow! factor of her Butterfly. The chorus and orchestra were simply magnificent. I saw the dress rehearsal and will see another performance as well, for a total of three, and I wish that my schedule would permit me to see even more. Not quite an alpha.
So I was thrilled to see Mefistofele announced as the opening-night opera for San Francisco’s 2013-2014 season. And they even managed to refurbish, or maybe even reconstruct, the Robert Carsen sets, which appeared to depict God’s own opera house. When the curtain went up for the Prologue in Heaven, it revealed another curtain behind it, this one red, with subtle flame projections playing on its surface. To the left and right of the stage were opera boxes, semicircular projections that each accommodated three angels in white garb and white masks. At the top of the stage were a number of white plaster life-size figures with large wings—more angels, with trumpets to their lips. When the red curtain was raised, we saw a scrim with projections of white fluffy clouds that subtly changed shape and slowly descended to stage level. The illumination was gradually turned up behind the scrim to reveal the back wall of a European-style opera house: five towers each having three levels of semicircular boxes, with three chorus members in each box. More angels/opera patrons were seated on stage. For the end of the Prologue, the seated choristers rose and advanced to the front of the stage as they sang (and the orchestra played) an fff finale. Thrilling!
Act 1 Scene 1 (Easter Sunday) was the most colorful and action-packed scene I have ever seen. Most of the large chorus were dressed in brightly-colored clothes and costumes; there were three stilt-walkers, and several of the chorus wore animal costumes, of which the giraffe was the most obvious. A brief procession carried a statue of Christ through the crowd, and later there were a couple of representations of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, including one in which they ate the apple, cast off several layers of clothes, and then went at each other. A friend whose son was in the children’s chorus in the Prologue and Epilogue told me that the children weren’t allowed to see the rest of the opera. And the sets: the five towers of the Prologue had been repositioned and turned sideways. Their sides looked like time-worn stone walls. But with all the action at the front of the stage, the sets in the background were merely incidental. Act 1 Scene 2 in Faust’s study featured a very long (at least half the width of the stage) refracting telescope that was pointed at a square hole that had been cut at the top left of the red curtain from the Prologue. Through the hole could be seen a number of stars. At the end of the act, Mefistofele attached a rope to a harness that Faust wore, the red curtain was raised revealing (in dim light) the boxes of the opera house, and Faust was hoisted several feet in the air as Mefistofele offers to take him “through the air” to wherever he would like to go.
Act 2 Scene 1 was something of a mystery to me. At the rear of the stage, a very large canvas had been hung in front of the box seats; it was painted with blue sky and white clouds, and two red-headed painters (house painters, not artist painters) were working on it. In the center of the stage was a tilted circular platform with four apple trees growing out of it. Its surface looked like Astroturf, and a number of red apples lay on it. To the right, a supernumerary bent over a bucket of apples, peeling them one by one. Near the end of the scene she got up from her chair and worked a large crank that made the circular platform go round and round. I didn’t get it—but it wasn’t offensive, it just didn’t communicate with me. Act 2 Scene 2 is the Walpurgis Night, otherwise known as the Witches’ Sabbath. The scene began with Mefistofele entering the box seats at the left of the stage, descending a ladder to the stage, then ascending another ladder on the right of the stage, all the while pulling a large golden rope. Then Faust appeared, holding the other end of the rope, and similarly descended the ladder, crossed the stage, and climbed up the other ladder. When the curtain behind them rose, we first saw in the dim light a small moon at the back of the stage, with two strings of Christmas tree lights running from the moon to each side of the front of the stage. As the lights went up, we saw a very long table running from the front of the stage to the back. Witches and warlocks were partying in their underwear. Some appeared to not even be wearing underwear, but close examination revealed unnatural stretch marks in what were otherwise extremely effective body suits. When Faust had his vision of Marguerite, a glass box containing a nude woman appeared above stage level and at the rear of the stage; she turned around very slowly as Faust sang that she resembled his Marguerite.
In Act 3, the death of Marguerite, the set referred back to the apple orchard of Act 2 Scene 1. The circular apple orchard had been devastated: the trees were black, twisted shadows of their former selves, while the circular platform was blackened and devastated, with what seemed like a small sinkhole in the middle. The lighting of the back of the stage was pretty dim, but at least one of the towers of box seats was there, because Faust and Mefistofele sang their first lines from one of the boxes.
Act 4, the Classical Walpurgis Night, also known as the Helen of Troy scene, was set in ancient Greece. (Q: What in the hell is Helen of Troy doing in this opera? A: Helen of Troy is in Goethe’s Faust, but in Part 2. Gounod only used Part 1 for his Faust. Boito tried to incorporate Part 2 into his opera, but Part 2 is largely mystical and philosophical and does not lend itself well to opera. And if you trace the Faust legend back through history, you will find that in some of the oldest legends, Faust marries Helen of Troy and has a child by her.) In front of the scrim there were flat cut-outs of Ionian columns and a Greek temple and various kinds of shrubbery. After the scrim rose, we saw another crowd of seated operagoers toward the back of the stage. After Faust had presented a single red rose to Helen, the crowd stood up and advanced toward the front of the stage, then all of the men (dressed in white tie and tails) each presented Helen with a large bouquet of red roses as Helen dropped Faust’s single rose on the floor.
The Epilogue began in Mefistofele’s dressing room. Toward the right of the stage was a coat hanger on wheels, vaguely similar (but simpler) to what you might find in a hotel to help you move your stuff from your car to your room. The floor was strewn with a number of Mefistofele’s cloaks, while Mefistofele himself sat in a chair and flung playing cards around one by one. As Faust’s death approached and the heavenly chorus began to sing, the red curtain behind them rose to reveal God’s opera house of the Prologue, populated as before with angels in the boxes and angels on stage. Six angels carried Faust’s body toward the rear of the stage, while three angels hoisted Mefistofele, writhing and whistling, and carried him off as well. The chorus and the orchestra again built to a tremendous fff climax, with the same music that ended the Prologue.
Our cast:
Mefistofele: Ildar Abdrazakov
Faust: Ramon Vargas
Wagner: Chuanyue Wang
Margherita/Elena: Patricia Racette
Conductor: Nicola Luisotti
Production: Robert Carsen
I very much enjoyed the 2013 Mefistofele, though it fell a bit short of the 1989 performances. As others will probably say about Enrico Caruso or Lauritz Melchior or Lily Pons or Maria Callas, I will say about Samuel Ramey that there will never be another Mefistofele to equal his. He owns that role for all time. Abdrazakov certainly sang well enough, but Ramey had more heft and authority in his voice. Ramey also had an authority of movement that is without equal, at least among basses. I have to wonder whether Ramey had ballet training. When a ballet dancer simply moves his arm, he does so with an authority that is lacking when a regular person makes the same motion. Ramey had that same kind of authority, which I did not find in Abdrazakov. Boito’s Faust may not be Ramon Vargas’s best role. He sounded pinched and constrained and effortful in his singing. Patricia Racette sang beautifully but she lacked the wow! factor of her Butterfly. The chorus and orchestra were simply magnificent. I saw the dress rehearsal and will see another performance as well, for a total of three, and I wish that my schedule would permit me to see even more. Not quite an alpha.
Thursday, October 10, 2013
Der Ring des Nibelungen, Seattle Opera, August 12-17 2013
The Seattle Ring is likely to be the most beautiful Ring in current memory, or perhaps ever. In contrast to the more or less bizarre “concepts” of Francesca Zambello, Achim Freyer, Robert Lepage, and Frank Castorf, Stephen Wadsworth gave us gave us a production that was faithful to Wagner’s intentions. Only one directorial decision seemed out of place: the confrontation between Wotan and Fricka in Act 2 of Die Walküre took place at Hunding’s hut rather than in Valhalla or at a “wild, craggy place” that the stage directions call for. The idea was that Wotan and Fricka are visiting the scene of the crime of Act 1. Not an entirely outrageous idea, but one that did raise eyebrows.
The scenery of the Seattle Ring was intended to echo that of the Pacific Northwest, specifically that of Hurricane Ridge on the Olympic Peninsula. The attempt was quite successful; the day after Götterdämmerung found me at Mason Lake, and the appearance of the forest was a strong reminder of what I had recently seen on stage.
Das Rheingold opens in the Rhine (in the Rhine, as Anna Russell put it). This Rhine had a rocky bottom, rising strongly upwards on the right, with a promontory in the middle. The lump of gold that Alberich will steal and forge into a ring was positioned at the top of this promontory. To avoid being seen before the sunlight hit it, it was covered by a dark cloth. At the appropriate moment, a stagehand removed the cloth to expose the gold. In a masterpiece of staging, the three Rhinedaughters (not Rhinemaidens, Speight Jenkins frequently admonished us) were supported on trapezes high in the air. They could rotate about their hips, and with the aid of two stagehands per Rhinedaughter pulling on ropes “swim” up and down and left and right. It was a low-key but very impressive spectacle.
Act 1 Scene 2 is set in the forest, with a projection in back of the newly-constructed Valhalla. Douglas firs grew out of a low grassy ridge; a former giant of the forest lay on its side at the summit of the ridge. To the right was a rocky face with an entrance to a cave, from which Alberich’s slaves would later emerge carrying the gold to ransom Freia. It was this scene that was most evocative of the Pacific Northwest and the forest around Mason Lake.
Scene 3 in Nibelheim looked like the side of a cave, with horizontal ledges of black coal as the primary feature and many sections of golden-colored rock that looked like glowing briquets. Most of the action took place on a projecting ledge with an opening behind it. The singers were lit from the sides, so that all Alberich had to do to disappear was to jump backward into that opening and disappear from the light. No puffs of smoke or shrinking under a cape were required.
Scene 4 was the same as Scene 2. The gold blocks that were Freia’s ransom were strange. Rather than rough-hewn blocks in the same size and shape as rocks that you would use to make a rough wall, this gold had a more detailed structure. Some of the pieces looked like bundles of golden sticks.
Die Walküre Act 1 takes place in Hunding’s hut, where he lives with Sieglinde in a forced marriage. To the left was a dark, dense, nearly impenetrable forest with a small path through it. The stage was dominated by the hut on the right, a large quarter-dome-style structure made of rough-hewn wood with a tremendous tree trunk growing up through the middle of the roof. A table and a couple of chairs rudely constructed from wood were positioned near the base of the tree. Nothung, the sword in the tree, was very effectively hidden until it was needed.
Act 2 continued in Hunding’s hut, then moved to “a rocky pass” as Wagner specified. To the left was a sheer rock wall; in the center a flat area; to the right a forest that rose up quickly yet gradually enough to permit a trail with two switchbacks. For the Annunciation of Death scene, Brünnhilde appeared at the upper switchback, overlooking the central flat area.
Act 3 was not “at the summit of a rocky mountain” but rather high up a mountain of sheer rock. All of the action took place on a relatively narrow path about ten feet above the stage floor. This path curved around the left side of the mountain. Behind the path was the entrance to a cave, and the rock face soared upward out of sight above the cave.
Siegfried Act 1 repurposed the set of Das Rheingold Acts 2 and 4, with the addition of a rude wooden shelter just to the left and above the cave entrance. Act 2 was back at the set of the second part of Die Walküre Act 2. A bloody spot on the sheer rock face on the left marked the spot at which Hunding had killed Siegmund. There was now a hole in that rock face through which we could see the tail of Fafner the dragon. When the dragon came out of his cave to fight Siegfried, the head and neck came around from in back of the rock face. The first part of Act 3 was new scenery, a completely vertical rock face of red sandstone. It was not particularly smooth; there were enough features in it that I could imagine an expert climber finding enough footholds and handholds to climb it. The final part of Act 3 was back at Brünnhilde’s rock, the same set as Act 3 of Die Walküre.
Götterdämmerung opened with the Norns singing in front of the red standstone cliff of Siegfried Act 3 Scene 1; the second prologue with Siegfried and Brünnhilde took place on Brünnhilde’s rock. The Hall of the Gibichungs was mostly wooden walls made up of heavy wooden beams and posts for the main structure and thin vertical slats for the surfaces of the walls. The beams were carved with various symbols and representations of Teutonic and Nordic mythology. Speight confirmed someone’s observation that it was designed to look like a Norwegian stave church. Act 1 concluded back at Brünnhilde’s rock. Act 2 was back at the Hall of the Gibichungs. Scene 1 of Act 3 found us back at the spot where Hunding killed Siegmund, but now a small pool had been added for the Rhinedaughters to play in. Hagen killed Siegfried at the same spot that Siegmund had been killed. Scene 2 was back at the Hall of the Gibichungs. For the finale, a lot went on. A small circular floating platform bearing all of the principal characters sort of drifted around and above the stage. After more sleight-of-hand with scrims and projections, we ended up almost where we started, with the forest scene of Das Rheingold Scene 2.
Our cast:
Woglinde: Jennifer Zetlan
Wellgunde: Cecelia Hall
Flosshilde: Renee Tatum
Alberich: Richard Paul Fink
Fricka: Stephanie Blythe
Wotan: Greer Grimsley
Freia: Wendy Bryn Harmer
Fasolt: Andrea Silvestrelli
Fafner: Daniel Sumegi
Froh: Ric Furman
Donner: Markus Brück
Loge: Mark Schowalter
Mime: Dennis Petersen
Erda: Lucille Beer
Siegmund: Stuart Skelton
Sieglinde: Margaret Jane Wray
Hunding: Andrea Silvestrelli
Brünnhilde: Alwyn Mellor
Gerhilde: Wendy Bryn Harmer
Helmwige: Jessica Klein
Waltraute (Die Walküre): Suzanne Hendrix
Schwertleite: Luretta Bybee
Ortlinde: Tamara Mancini
Siegrune: Sarah Heitzel
Grimgerde: Renee Tatum
Rossweisse: Cecelia Hall
Siegfried: Stefan Vinke
Forest Bird: Jennifer Zetlan
First Norn: Luretta Bybee
Second Norn: Stephanie Blythe
Third Norn: Margaret Jane Wray
Gunther: Markus Brück
Hagen: Daniel Sumegi
Gutrune: Wendy Bryn Harmer
Waltraute (Götterdämmerung): Stephanie Blythe
Conductor: Asher Fisch
Director: Stephen Wadsworth
It was a wonderful experience all the way around. I envy my friends who attended two or even all three cycles. The most outstanding singers were Stefan Vinke as Siegfried and Stephanie Blythe in her various roles. I finally figured out a way to communicate what it was like to see Rita Hunter, who had blown me away as Brünnhilde in my first Ring cycle in 1980: take Stephanie Blythe, add a hundred pounds, raise her voice into soprano territory, and you’d have the Rita Hunter that I remember. Stefan Vinke had everything that you could want in a Siegfried. I’m also a big Andrea Silvestrelli fan, and he did not disappoint. Ric Furman made a more authoritative Froh than I usually see. Alywn Mellor sang well, but she had an annoying and distracting back-and-forth head motion. The orchestra under Ascher Fisch was wonderful, aside from more bloopers from the horns than I would expect from an orchestra of this level. A superb experience, but short of an alpha.
The scenery of the Seattle Ring was intended to echo that of the Pacific Northwest, specifically that of Hurricane Ridge on the Olympic Peninsula. The attempt was quite successful; the day after Götterdämmerung found me at Mason Lake, and the appearance of the forest was a strong reminder of what I had recently seen on stage.
Das Rheingold opens in the Rhine (in the Rhine, as Anna Russell put it). This Rhine had a rocky bottom, rising strongly upwards on the right, with a promontory in the middle. The lump of gold that Alberich will steal and forge into a ring was positioned at the top of this promontory. To avoid being seen before the sunlight hit it, it was covered by a dark cloth. At the appropriate moment, a stagehand removed the cloth to expose the gold. In a masterpiece of staging, the three Rhinedaughters (not Rhinemaidens, Speight Jenkins frequently admonished us) were supported on trapezes high in the air. They could rotate about their hips, and with the aid of two stagehands per Rhinedaughter pulling on ropes “swim” up and down and left and right. It was a low-key but very impressive spectacle.
Act 1 Scene 2 is set in the forest, with a projection in back of the newly-constructed Valhalla. Douglas firs grew out of a low grassy ridge; a former giant of the forest lay on its side at the summit of the ridge. To the right was a rocky face with an entrance to a cave, from which Alberich’s slaves would later emerge carrying the gold to ransom Freia. It was this scene that was most evocative of the Pacific Northwest and the forest around Mason Lake.
Scene 3 in Nibelheim looked like the side of a cave, with horizontal ledges of black coal as the primary feature and many sections of golden-colored rock that looked like glowing briquets. Most of the action took place on a projecting ledge with an opening behind it. The singers were lit from the sides, so that all Alberich had to do to disappear was to jump backward into that opening and disappear from the light. No puffs of smoke or shrinking under a cape were required.
Scene 4 was the same as Scene 2. The gold blocks that were Freia’s ransom were strange. Rather than rough-hewn blocks in the same size and shape as rocks that you would use to make a rough wall, this gold had a more detailed structure. Some of the pieces looked like bundles of golden sticks.
Die Walküre Act 1 takes place in Hunding’s hut, where he lives with Sieglinde in a forced marriage. To the left was a dark, dense, nearly impenetrable forest with a small path through it. The stage was dominated by the hut on the right, a large quarter-dome-style structure made of rough-hewn wood with a tremendous tree trunk growing up through the middle of the roof. A table and a couple of chairs rudely constructed from wood were positioned near the base of the tree. Nothung, the sword in the tree, was very effectively hidden until it was needed.
Act 2 continued in Hunding’s hut, then moved to “a rocky pass” as Wagner specified. To the left was a sheer rock wall; in the center a flat area; to the right a forest that rose up quickly yet gradually enough to permit a trail with two switchbacks. For the Annunciation of Death scene, Brünnhilde appeared at the upper switchback, overlooking the central flat area.
Act 3 was not “at the summit of a rocky mountain” but rather high up a mountain of sheer rock. All of the action took place on a relatively narrow path about ten feet above the stage floor. This path curved around the left side of the mountain. Behind the path was the entrance to a cave, and the rock face soared upward out of sight above the cave.
Siegfried Act 1 repurposed the set of Das Rheingold Acts 2 and 4, with the addition of a rude wooden shelter just to the left and above the cave entrance. Act 2 was back at the set of the second part of Die Walküre Act 2. A bloody spot on the sheer rock face on the left marked the spot at which Hunding had killed Siegmund. There was now a hole in that rock face through which we could see the tail of Fafner the dragon. When the dragon came out of his cave to fight Siegfried, the head and neck came around from in back of the rock face. The first part of Act 3 was new scenery, a completely vertical rock face of red sandstone. It was not particularly smooth; there were enough features in it that I could imagine an expert climber finding enough footholds and handholds to climb it. The final part of Act 3 was back at Brünnhilde’s rock, the same set as Act 3 of Die Walküre.
Götterdämmerung opened with the Norns singing in front of the red standstone cliff of Siegfried Act 3 Scene 1; the second prologue with Siegfried and Brünnhilde took place on Brünnhilde’s rock. The Hall of the Gibichungs was mostly wooden walls made up of heavy wooden beams and posts for the main structure and thin vertical slats for the surfaces of the walls. The beams were carved with various symbols and representations of Teutonic and Nordic mythology. Speight confirmed someone’s observation that it was designed to look like a Norwegian stave church. Act 1 concluded back at Brünnhilde’s rock. Act 2 was back at the Hall of the Gibichungs. Scene 1 of Act 3 found us back at the spot where Hunding killed Siegmund, but now a small pool had been added for the Rhinedaughters to play in. Hagen killed Siegfried at the same spot that Siegmund had been killed. Scene 2 was back at the Hall of the Gibichungs. For the finale, a lot went on. A small circular floating platform bearing all of the principal characters sort of drifted around and above the stage. After more sleight-of-hand with scrims and projections, we ended up almost where we started, with the forest scene of Das Rheingold Scene 2.
Our cast:
Woglinde: Jennifer Zetlan
Wellgunde: Cecelia Hall
Flosshilde: Renee Tatum
Alberich: Richard Paul Fink
Fricka: Stephanie Blythe
Wotan: Greer Grimsley
Freia: Wendy Bryn Harmer
Fasolt: Andrea Silvestrelli
Fafner: Daniel Sumegi
Froh: Ric Furman
Donner: Markus Brück
Loge: Mark Schowalter
Mime: Dennis Petersen
Erda: Lucille Beer
Siegmund: Stuart Skelton
Sieglinde: Margaret Jane Wray
Hunding: Andrea Silvestrelli
Brünnhilde: Alwyn Mellor
Gerhilde: Wendy Bryn Harmer
Helmwige: Jessica Klein
Waltraute (Die Walküre): Suzanne Hendrix
Schwertleite: Luretta Bybee
Ortlinde: Tamara Mancini
Siegrune: Sarah Heitzel
Grimgerde: Renee Tatum
Rossweisse: Cecelia Hall
Siegfried: Stefan Vinke
Forest Bird: Jennifer Zetlan
First Norn: Luretta Bybee
Second Norn: Stephanie Blythe
Third Norn: Margaret Jane Wray
Gunther: Markus Brück
Hagen: Daniel Sumegi
Gutrune: Wendy Bryn Harmer
Waltraute (Götterdämmerung): Stephanie Blythe
Conductor: Asher Fisch
Director: Stephen Wadsworth
It was a wonderful experience all the way around. I envy my friends who attended two or even all three cycles. The most outstanding singers were Stefan Vinke as Siegfried and Stephanie Blythe in her various roles. I finally figured out a way to communicate what it was like to see Rita Hunter, who had blown me away as Brünnhilde in my first Ring cycle in 1980: take Stephanie Blythe, add a hundred pounds, raise her voice into soprano territory, and you’d have the Rita Hunter that I remember. Stefan Vinke had everything that you could want in a Siegfried. I’m also a big Andrea Silvestrelli fan, and he did not disappoint. Ric Furman made a more authoritative Froh than I usually see. Alywn Mellor sang well, but she had an annoying and distracting back-and-forth head motion. The orchestra under Ascher Fisch was wonderful, aside from more bloopers from the horns than I would expect from an orchestra of this level. A superb experience, but short of an alpha.
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
The Marriage of Figaro, Merola Opera Program, August 1 2013
We saw an almost totally new crop of current Merolini ... Alisa Jordheim was a repeat performer from The Rape of Lucretia, and Rhys Talbot, Matthew Newlin, and Thomas Richards repeated from the Summer Concert, but everyone else was new to the folks who didn’t attend any of the donor events.
The sets were simple but effective, certainly not some director’s off-the-wall “concept” (see the current Bayreuth Ring for an example). The most prominent feature was five large white cupboards, eight feet tall by five feet wide, with doors in front and back and crown moulding on top. They served as doors into the current room and as the closet in which Cherubino hides when the Count calls on the Countess. In the final act, the double doors of the center cupboard were held open to reveal inky-black night, with several light bulbs (stars) hung on strings. There were 18th-century tables and chairs, and the singers were dressed in 18th-century attire. Thank goodness for a director who chooses to serve the music rather than his own inflated ego.
Our cast:
Figaro: John Arnold
Susanna: Maria Valdez
Dr. Bartolo: Thomas Richards
Marcellina: Daryl Freeman
Cherubino: Rihab Chaieb
Count Almaviva: Joseph Lattanzi
Don Basilio: Casey Finnigan
Countess Almaviva: Jacqueline Piccolino
Antonio: Rhys Lloyd Talbot
Don Curzio: Matthew Newlin
Barbarina: Alisa Jordheim
Conductor: Xian Zhang
Director: Robin Guarino
While we have yet to see a Merolino/a who can rank with the Leah Crocetto of a few summers ago, there was some delightful singing, most notably from Thomas Richards as Dr. Bartolo, Joseph Lattanzi as Count Almaviva, and Jacqueline Piccolino as his Countess. The orchestra played wonderfully for conductor Xian Zhang. But my overall perspective was flawed by having to sit underneath the balcony of the Everett Middle School auditorium, where Merola is performing this summer instead of in the traditional Herbst Theater. The sound in row P, while spacious, lacked clarity. The sound underneath an overhang is generally poor, and this time was no exception. Perhaps for that reason more than any other, my overall experience failed to reach the beta level.
We
The sets were simple but effective, certainly not some director’s off-the-wall “concept” (see the current Bayreuth Ring for an example). The most prominent feature was five large white cupboards, eight feet tall by five feet wide, with doors in front and back and crown moulding on top. They served as doors into the current room and as the closet in which Cherubino hides when the Count calls on the Countess. In the final act, the double doors of the center cupboard were held open to reveal inky-black night, with several light bulbs (stars) hung on strings. There were 18th-century tables and chairs, and the singers were dressed in 18th-century attire. Thank goodness for a director who chooses to serve the music rather than his own inflated ego.
Our cast:
Figaro: John Arnold
Susanna: Maria Valdez
Dr. Bartolo: Thomas Richards
Marcellina: Daryl Freeman
Cherubino: Rihab Chaieb
Count Almaviva: Joseph Lattanzi
Don Basilio: Casey Finnigan
Countess Almaviva: Jacqueline Piccolino
Antonio: Rhys Lloyd Talbot
Don Curzio: Matthew Newlin
Barbarina: Alisa Jordheim
Conductor: Xian Zhang
Director: Robin Guarino
While we have yet to see a Merolino/a who can rank with the Leah Crocetto of a few summers ago, there was some delightful singing, most notably from Thomas Richards as Dr. Bartolo, Joseph Lattanzi as Count Almaviva, and Jacqueline Piccolino as his Countess. The orchestra played wonderfully for conductor Xian Zhang. But my overall perspective was flawed by having to sit underneath the balcony of the Everett Middle School auditorium, where Merola is performing this summer instead of in the traditional Herbst Theater. The sound in row P, while spacious, lacked clarity. The sound underneath an overhang is generally poor, and this time was no exception. Perhaps for that reason more than any other, my overall experience failed to reach the beta level.
We
Saturday, July 27, 2013
The Rape of Lucretia, Merola Opera Program, July 11 2013
The historical rape of Lucretia is an event that may or may not have happened in Rome in 509 BC; at that remove it’s not clear how much is fact and how much is legend. What is clear is that many authors over the centuries, including Ovid in 8 AD and Shakespeare in 1594, have made use of the legend. The story has it that the son of an Etruscan general raped the wife of an associate of the Roman king. The rape of Lucretia and her subsequent suicide precipitated a revolution that expelled the Etruscans and established the first Roman republic.
Benjamin Britten based his opera on a 1931 play by André Obey, Le Viol de Lucrèce, which in turn relies heavily on Shakespeare. By the technical definition of “chamber music,” which means that there is only one player per part, Britten’s opera is chamber music. The orchestra consists of 12 players, or 13 if you include the conductor who accompanies the recitatives on the piano. The “male chorus” and “female chorus” consist of one singer each.
For his setting of this production, the director chose to tie the events of the opera to modern scandals of sexual impropriety in today’s military by having those events occur in a military tribunal. To the left and right of the stage were simple steel chairs, arranged on a series of broad steps. In the middle there were two metal folding tables. The three male principals sat in the chairs to the right, dressed as generals; the three female principals (Lucretia, her old nurse, and a maid) sat in the chairs to the left. The male and female chorus sat in the middle as though they were officials of the court. The violence of the rape of Lucretia by Tarquinius near the beginning of the second act was depicted by having Tarquinius throw various court papers around and overturn tables and chairs.
Our cast:
Lucretia: Kate Allen
Bianca: Katie Hannigan
Lucia: Alisa Jordheim
Collatinus: David Weigel
Tarquinius: Chris Carr
Junius: Efrain Solis
Male chorus: Robert Watson
Female chorus: Linda Barnett
Conductor: Mark Morash
Director: Peter Kazaras
Of these, the most impressive was David Weigel in the role of Lucretia’s husband Collatinus. He’s the one I’d like to watch, but I won’t be able to see him again this summer. At the other end of the scale, Alisa Jordheim sang with a squeaky little-girl voice that didn’t work for me. She will be on stage again this summer as Barbarina in The Marriage of Figaro. Overall, the first act was a bit of a drag (full disclosure: this was my first Lucretia; often opinions improve on a second and third hearing), but by the second act the singers seem to have found the groove. Somewhere between a gamma and a beta.
Benjamin Britten based his opera on a 1931 play by André Obey, Le Viol de Lucrèce, which in turn relies heavily on Shakespeare. By the technical definition of “chamber music,” which means that there is only one player per part, Britten’s opera is chamber music. The orchestra consists of 12 players, or 13 if you include the conductor who accompanies the recitatives on the piano. The “male chorus” and “female chorus” consist of one singer each.
For his setting of this production, the director chose to tie the events of the opera to modern scandals of sexual impropriety in today’s military by having those events occur in a military tribunal. To the left and right of the stage were simple steel chairs, arranged on a series of broad steps. In the middle there were two metal folding tables. The three male principals sat in the chairs to the right, dressed as generals; the three female principals (Lucretia, her old nurse, and a maid) sat in the chairs to the left. The male and female chorus sat in the middle as though they were officials of the court. The violence of the rape of Lucretia by Tarquinius near the beginning of the second act was depicted by having Tarquinius throw various court papers around and overturn tables and chairs.
Our cast:
Lucretia: Kate Allen
Bianca: Katie Hannigan
Lucia: Alisa Jordheim
Collatinus: David Weigel
Tarquinius: Chris Carr
Junius: Efrain Solis
Male chorus: Robert Watson
Female chorus: Linda Barnett
Conductor: Mark Morash
Director: Peter Kazaras
Of these, the most impressive was David Weigel in the role of Lucretia’s husband Collatinus. He’s the one I’d like to watch, but I won’t be able to see him again this summer. At the other end of the scale, Alisa Jordheim sang with a squeaky little-girl voice that didn’t work for me. She will be on stage again this summer as Barbarina in The Marriage of Figaro. Overall, the first act was a bit of a drag (full disclosure: this was my first Lucretia; often opinions improve on a second and third hearing), but by the second act the singers seem to have found the groove. Somewhere between a gamma and a beta.
Monday, July 8, 2013
The Gospel of Mary Magdalene, San Francisco Opera, July 7 2013
Four performances of The Gospel of Mary Magdalene? Well, that’s the way it worked out for me, and I think I got a little bit more out of it each time. (See the dress rehearsal for a description of the sets, and the premiere performance for comments on the singing.)
My appreciation of Act 1 was dimmed considerably by a lack of sleep the night before, my ORD-to-SFO flight having been delayed five hours by the crash landing of Asiana flight 214 at SFO. I know that I completely missed the scene in which Yeshua persuades Peter and the other disciples to kneel before Mary, and several times I recovered from a drooping head. I was somewhat embarrassed to stand up at intermission and see the composer seated just two rows behind me, and add to that the fact that my head sticks up rather higher than those of others around me. But intermission refreshments rejuvenated me, and I was able to pay full attention to Act 2.
All of my prior comments about the singing continued to apply. What struck me more this time than previously was the beauty of the soloists-plus-chorus number at the beginning of Act 2, where the singers proclaim that the only law is love, and discourse on the Golden Rule, though it’s not named as such. The music is sinking in enough that I can almost remember how it goes in this scene. But overall, the opera continues to lack theatricality and emotional range, and still sounds pretty much the same from beginning to end. I have yet to hear whether any other opera company has scheduled it for production. It remains a smidgen better than a gamma.
My appreciation of Act 1 was dimmed considerably by a lack of sleep the night before, my ORD-to-SFO flight having been delayed five hours by the crash landing of Asiana flight 214 at SFO. I know that I completely missed the scene in which Yeshua persuades Peter and the other disciples to kneel before Mary, and several times I recovered from a drooping head. I was somewhat embarrassed to stand up at intermission and see the composer seated just two rows behind me, and add to that the fact that my head sticks up rather higher than those of others around me. But intermission refreshments rejuvenated me, and I was able to pay full attention to Act 2.
All of my prior comments about the singing continued to apply. What struck me more this time than previously was the beauty of the soloists-plus-chorus number at the beginning of Act 2, where the singers proclaim that the only law is love, and discourse on the Golden Rule, though it’s not named as such. The music is sinking in enough that I can almost remember how it goes in this scene. But overall, the opera continues to lack theatricality and emotional range, and still sounds pretty much the same from beginning to end. I have yet to hear whether any other opera company has scheduled it for production. It remains a smidgen better than a gamma.
Otello, Festival Opera, June 28 2013
West Bay Opera and Festival Opera joined forces to produce Giuseppe Verdi’s late masterwork, Otello. West Bay Opera was first, with four performances; Festival Opera followed nearly a month later with two performances using the same principal singers and sets, but with its own conductor, orchestra, and chorus. The result? A convincing demonstration that two small opera companies, working together, can meet the challenge of presenting a “big” opera.
Act 1 began with one of the most powerful storm scenes in all of opera, with the citizens of Cyprus anxiously watching Otello’s ship approaching through the storm. From the looks of the set, it would appear that the West Bay Opera’s stage is smaller than Festival Opera’s: on both sides of the stage, there were stone walls, with a rough bas-relief sculpture of a human figure. The center of the stage was taken up by a stone platform, which served as the dock onto which Otello could alight after his ship had managed to dock. To the left and right were two tall structures bearing various accoutrements, including a firebox whose light a chorus member would periodically obscure and then reveal, perhaps a 17th-century version of Morse code.
In Act 2, the stone platform remained, as did the walls to the left and right. The scene was completed by several stone pillars, each about 1½ feet wide and only a few inches thick, with small arches connecting them. Otello and Iago each had their own stand-up desk, Otello on the right, Iago on the left. Pretty much the same set was used for Act 3, with the addition of a solid backdrop to convey even more of an impression of “inside” and the removal of the desks. The Act 4 set was dominated by Desdemona’s bed, on a platform surrounded by three steps, and backed with a very tall headboard supporting beautiful blue-green draped fabric.
Our cast:
Otello: David Gustafson
Iago: Philip Skinner
Desdemona: Cynthia Clayton
Cassio: Nadav Hart
Roderigo: Adam Flowers
Conductor: Michael Morgan
Director: Daniel Helfgot
Some might think that an opera of the size and scope of Otello might be beyond the reach of a small opera company, but Festival Opera proved otherwise. The star of the show was Philip Skinner as Iago. Skinner is a regular in minor roles at San Francisco Opera, and he brought his years of experience and a superb baritone voice to his role. David Gustafson (lacking “Moorish” makeup) made a fine Otello, and Cynthia Clayton (former Opera San Jose resident artist) was particularly impressive in her confrontation scene in Act 3. The orchestra sounded a bit underpowered in the initial storm music, but in general served the production well. It would have been worth a repeat visit, had my schedule allowed—a strong beta.
Act 1 began with one of the most powerful storm scenes in all of opera, with the citizens of Cyprus anxiously watching Otello’s ship approaching through the storm. From the looks of the set, it would appear that the West Bay Opera’s stage is smaller than Festival Opera’s: on both sides of the stage, there were stone walls, with a rough bas-relief sculpture of a human figure. The center of the stage was taken up by a stone platform, which served as the dock onto which Otello could alight after his ship had managed to dock. To the left and right were two tall structures bearing various accoutrements, including a firebox whose light a chorus member would periodically obscure and then reveal, perhaps a 17th-century version of Morse code.
In Act 2, the stone platform remained, as did the walls to the left and right. The scene was completed by several stone pillars, each about 1½ feet wide and only a few inches thick, with small arches connecting them. Otello and Iago each had their own stand-up desk, Otello on the right, Iago on the left. Pretty much the same set was used for Act 3, with the addition of a solid backdrop to convey even more of an impression of “inside” and the removal of the desks. The Act 4 set was dominated by Desdemona’s bed, on a platform surrounded by three steps, and backed with a very tall headboard supporting beautiful blue-green draped fabric.
Our cast:
Otello: David Gustafson
Iago: Philip Skinner
Desdemona: Cynthia Clayton
Cassio: Nadav Hart
Roderigo: Adam Flowers
Conductor: Michael Morgan
Director: Daniel Helfgot
Some might think that an opera of the size and scope of Otello might be beyond the reach of a small opera company, but Festival Opera proved otherwise. The star of the show was Philip Skinner as Iago. Skinner is a regular in minor roles at San Francisco Opera, and he brought his years of experience and a superb baritone voice to his role. David Gustafson (lacking “Moorish” makeup) made a fine Otello, and Cynthia Clayton (former Opera San Jose resident artist) was particularly impressive in her confrontation scene in Act 3. The orchestra sounded a bit underpowered in the initial storm music, but in general served the production well. It would have been worth a repeat visit, had my schedule allowed—a strong beta.
Friday, June 28, 2013
The Gospel of Mary Magdalene, San Francisco Opera, June 25 2013
Through a series of circumstances, I managed to acquire a front-row seat to a third performance of The Gospel of Mary Magdalene. I covered the set in the report from the dress rehearsal, and the list and initial impressions of the singers at the premiere performance. My third performance was a somewhat better experience than the first two. I can credit some of that to the front-row seat, some of it to the singers having had, in effect, two additional rehearsals, and some of it to my becoming somewhat more familiar with the music. Overall impressions, however, remain the same: Sasha Cooke (Mary), William Burden (Peter), and James Creswell (Pharisee) were a delight to hear and watch; Nathan Gunn’s vibrato continued be excessive. The music remained pleasant enough but not that interesting. It seemed that all of the opportunities for dramatic musical gestures did not fulfill their potential. They say that the greatest opera composers were all “men of the theater.” The sense of “theatricality” was missing this time. A smidgen better than a gamma.
The Tales of Hoffman, San Francisco Opera, June 23 2013
Having seen the dress rehearsal of this production and commented on the sets there, I will merely add that for the Olympia scene, the stagehands turned the blue-gray walls around so that we could see the backing trusses that held the walls up. Also, the Antonia scene opened with most the stage being blacked out. On the left we saw Antonia’s little bedroom, complete with wallpaper that looked as though it dated to 1881, the date of the premiere.
Our cast:
E.T.A. Hoffman: Matthew Polenzani
The Muse/Nicklausse: Angela Brower
Lindorf/Coppelius/Dr. Miracle/Dapertutto: Christian Van Horn
Olympia: Hye Jung Lee
Antonia: Natalie Dessay
Crespel, Antonia’s father: James Creswell
Giulietta: Irene Roberts
Stella: Jacqueline Piccolino
Conductor: Patrick Fournillier
Director: Laurent Pelly
Many of the performers sang exceedingly well. Most memorable was Hye Jung Lee in the role of Olympia, who dispatched marvelous coloratura notes simultaneously with being swung around, fairly rapidly and to significant heights at the end of a boom. In Seattle, where the Rhinemaidens are on trapezes at the beginning of Das Rheingold, they move around but assume stationary positions whenever they need to sing. Christian Van Horn, as the four villains, was resplendent of voice. He seems to me to be a candidate to succeed Samuel Ramey as Boito’s Mefistofele. Natalie Dessay impressed with the quality of her voice; too bad that we didn’t get to hear her sing all of Hoffman’s lady loves, as originally announced. I had already seen James Creswell sing authoritatively in small part of the Pharisee in The Gospel of Mary Magdalene and was eagerly awaiting a second chance to hear him; he did not disappoint. The audience buzz was very favorable to Matthew Polenzani, our Hoffman, but to me he sounded a bit strained, with a touch of glare. Overall, an enjoyable performance, but ultimately not that interesting. Somewhat short of a beta.
Our cast:
E.T.A. Hoffman: Matthew Polenzani
The Muse/Nicklausse: Angela Brower
Lindorf/Coppelius/Dr. Miracle/Dapertutto: Christian Van Horn
Olympia: Hye Jung Lee
Antonia: Natalie Dessay
Crespel, Antonia’s father: James Creswell
Giulietta: Irene Roberts
Stella: Jacqueline Piccolino
Conductor: Patrick Fournillier
Director: Laurent Pelly
Many of the performers sang exceedingly well. Most memorable was Hye Jung Lee in the role of Olympia, who dispatched marvelous coloratura notes simultaneously with being swung around, fairly rapidly and to significant heights at the end of a boom. In Seattle, where the Rhinemaidens are on trapezes at the beginning of Das Rheingold, they move around but assume stationary positions whenever they need to sing. Christian Van Horn, as the four villains, was resplendent of voice. He seems to me to be a candidate to succeed Samuel Ramey as Boito’s Mefistofele. Natalie Dessay impressed with the quality of her voice; too bad that we didn’t get to hear her sing all of Hoffman’s lady loves, as originally announced. I had already seen James Creswell sing authoritatively in small part of the Pharisee in The Gospel of Mary Magdalene and was eagerly awaiting a second chance to hear him; he did not disappoint. The audience buzz was very favorable to Matthew Polenzani, our Hoffman, but to me he sounded a bit strained, with a touch of glare. Overall, an enjoyable performance, but ultimately not that interesting. Somewhat short of a beta.
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
Ludus Danielis (The Play of Daniel), San Francisco Renaissance Voices, June 22 2013
Conventional wisdom credits Jacapo Peri with composing the first opera, Dafne, in 1597. But the idea of “drama in music” goes back much, much further. In the current instance, the students at Beauvais Cathedral in France are credited with the creation of a “musical liturgical drama,” The Play of Daniel, as early as 1227. It tells the Old Testament story of the prophet Daniel, his interpretation of the writing on the wall, and his incarceration in the lions’ den. The story is told in song, with roles and costumes and a bit of action for the singers. They are accompanied by musical instruments, and dancers portray the lions and other characters. Sounds like opera to me.
The production that we saw was decidedly modest, with white robes for the singers, construction paper for crowns and other assorted identifying insignia, and a couple of refrigerator boxes suitably decorated with more construction paper. That’s it. The orchestra comprised seven musicians playing a number of instruments: vielle (an early violin), shawm, recorder, dulcian (an early bassoon), harp, oud (similar to a lute), theorbo (like a lute with a very long, straight neck), xylophone, and drums. The conductor also played handbells.
Even though the production was exceptionally modest, the entire experience was delightful. While I’m sure that none of the singers is sitting by the phone, eagerly awaiting a call from the Metropolitan Opera, I would be very pleased to be able to sing as well as any of them myself. I will call out Reuben Zellman, who sang “court adviser” and Habakkuk in either a very high tenor or perhaps countertenor. If that was truly countertenor range, it was one of the easiest to listen to countertenors in my experience. He also presented a witty and informative half-hour lecture on The Play of Daniel immediately prior to the actual performance. A beta—and certainly recommended if you happen to be in Palo Alto on June 29 or Berkeley on June 30. See http://www.sfrvoices.org/concerts--tickets.html.
The production that we saw was decidedly modest, with white robes for the singers, construction paper for crowns and other assorted identifying insignia, and a couple of refrigerator boxes suitably decorated with more construction paper. That’s it. The orchestra comprised seven musicians playing a number of instruments: vielle (an early violin), shawm, recorder, dulcian (an early bassoon), harp, oud (similar to a lute), theorbo (like a lute with a very long, straight neck), xylophone, and drums. The conductor also played handbells.
Even though the production was exceptionally modest, the entire experience was delightful. While I’m sure that none of the singers is sitting by the phone, eagerly awaiting a call from the Metropolitan Opera, I would be very pleased to be able to sing as well as any of them myself. I will call out Reuben Zellman, who sang “court adviser” and Habakkuk in either a very high tenor or perhaps countertenor. If that was truly countertenor range, it was one of the easiest to listen to countertenors in my experience. He also presented a witty and informative half-hour lecture on The Play of Daniel immediately prior to the actual performance. A beta—and certainly recommended if you happen to be in Palo Alto on June 29 or Berkeley on June 30. See http://www.sfrvoices.org/concerts--tickets.html.
Friday, June 21, 2013
The Gospel of Mary Magdalene, San Francisco Opera, June 19 2013
OK, here it is, the world premiere of an opera by a recognized opera composer (Mark Adamo, with Little Women and Lysistrata to his credit), heard for a second time, the first being the dress rehearsal. What’s different the second time around? The short answer: not much, although I do have some new observations and descriptions.
The only difference in staging that I detected was in the moment that Yeshua and Mary climb into bed together. Both times they were fully clothed, nothing R-rated here, and they were covered by a bedsheet, but what was happening under the sheet was less suggestive than before. I had reported “no duets,” but in fact there was a duet for Mary and Yeshua, and one for Mary and Miriam (aka The Virgin Mary). The question had been raised at dress rehearsal as to whether that was Nathan Gunn or a body double hanging on the cross. My spies backstage reported that it really was Gunn.
Our cast:
Mary Magdalene: Sasha Cooke
Yeshua: Nathan Gunn
Miriam: Maria Kanyova
Peter: William Burden
Policemen: Daniel Curran, Brian Leerhuber
Pharisee: James Creswell
Conductor: Michael Christie
Director: Kevin Newbury
This was Sasha Cooke’s first performance with San Francisco Opera, and she made a very fine first impression William Burden sang well as Peter, and Maria Kanyova almost as well. The big disappointment was heartthrob Nathan Gunn, who sounded woolly and overused his vibrato. Another important discovery was Merola graduate James Creswell, the Pharisee. His rich bass voice made me sit up and take notice, and look forward to an upcoming Tales of Hoffman in which he will sing Crespel, Antonia’s father.
On second hearing, the music remained approachable but, well, not very interesting—although Mary’s aria that begins “I love this time of the morning” was even lovelier than before. My mind recalled a comment by a friend after we had heard a performance of César Franck’s Symphony in D minor: “That piece runs the emotional gamut from A to B.” It just seemed that many opportunities for the music to make a big statement, to go along with important events, were simply missed. And the orchestral music seemed curiously detached from the vocal lines, as though they had little to do with each other. I’ll see it a third time, but at this point it’s a gamma.
The only difference in staging that I detected was in the moment that Yeshua and Mary climb into bed together. Both times they were fully clothed, nothing R-rated here, and they were covered by a bedsheet, but what was happening under the sheet was less suggestive than before. I had reported “no duets,” but in fact there was a duet for Mary and Yeshua, and one for Mary and Miriam (aka The Virgin Mary). The question had been raised at dress rehearsal as to whether that was Nathan Gunn or a body double hanging on the cross. My spies backstage reported that it really was Gunn.
Our cast:
Mary Magdalene: Sasha Cooke
Yeshua: Nathan Gunn
Miriam: Maria Kanyova
Peter: William Burden
Policemen: Daniel Curran, Brian Leerhuber
Pharisee: James Creswell
Conductor: Michael Christie
Director: Kevin Newbury
This was Sasha Cooke’s first performance with San Francisco Opera, and she made a very fine first impression William Burden sang well as Peter, and Maria Kanyova almost as well. The big disappointment was heartthrob Nathan Gunn, who sounded woolly and overused his vibrato. Another important discovery was Merola graduate James Creswell, the Pharisee. His rich bass voice made me sit up and take notice, and look forward to an upcoming Tales of Hoffman in which he will sing Crespel, Antonia’s father.
On second hearing, the music remained approachable but, well, not very interesting—although Mary’s aria that begins “I love this time of the morning” was even lovelier than before. My mind recalled a comment by a friend after we had heard a performance of César Franck’s Symphony in D minor: “That piece runs the emotional gamut from A to B.” It just seemed that many opportunities for the music to make a big statement, to go along with important events, were simply missed. And the orchestral music seemed curiously detached from the vocal lines, as though they had little to do with each other. I’ll see it a third time, but at this point it’s a gamma.
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