A few years ago, Susan Graham sang Iphigenie in a San Francisco Opera production that contributed to my hypothesis that “everything Susan Graham touches turns to gold.” Yesterday she sang the role at the Met, with the extra added advantage of having Placido Domingo as her Orestes. Why is this opera not more popular? Perhaps it takes performers of the stature of Graham and Domingo, but the bottom line was that I and all my friends in attendance were very well pleased.
The four acts of the opera were presented with one intermission, a seamless transition between acts 1 and 2, and acts 3 and 4, and just one set. The main part of the set was a large room, dominated by the sacrificial altar to the right of center and to the right of the altar a very large statue of what I take to be Diana—it was not very well lit, and the camera didn’t spend much time with it. The walls were a dark red, punctuated with a number of sconces with burning flames. In the center of the back wall was a door, carved in high relief, through which all the characters entered and exited the chamber. On the other side of the left wall of the altar room was a smaller, very dark room that looked like a storeroom, with a pile of heavy wooden furniture at the back, but given the shackles attached to the wall, and the prisoners constrained by the shackles, it was a prison cell.
“Where are the arias?” asked my music-major friends attending, with me, our first performance of Die Walküre, oh so many years ago. The same question could apply to this 1781 opera. It was rather Wagnerian, in that the music served the drama rather than the “mistaken vanity of the singers” as Gluck wrote in his preface to his first “reform opera,” Alceste. The music simply flowed from character to character to chorus to character, lacking any set pieces such as Una voce poco fa or Largo al factotum. At one point Domingo had a lengthy part, which he performed wonderfully well, and which would have elicited thunderous applause from the audience if the music had paused—but it didn’t, and the drama simply continued.
The overall effect was rather unusual. The opera gives you no take-aways in the form of memorable tunes, no Una voce poco fas or even a Winterstürme; in that sense I compare it to Palestrina, in that it is music that is wonderful to listen to, at the end you’re very glad you’ve attended, but you can’t really remember any of it. Maybe you can, after enough hearings. Graham and Domingo sang masterfully, as did Paul Groves and Gordon Hawkins in the lesser roles of Pylades and Thoas respectively. This performance is edging toward alpha quality.
Now if I could only get my friends who enjoyed Iphigenie in Tauride so much to come to Wagner with an open mind ...
Sunday, February 27, 2011
The Barber of Seville, Opera San Jose, Feb. 24 2011
We returned four days later to see the other cast:
Figaro: Adam Meza
Almaviva: Chester Pidduck
Rosina: Cathleen Candia
Dr. Bartolo: Torlef Borsting
Don Basilio: Paul Murray
Fiorello: Anders Froehlich
Berta: Kindra Scharich
Thanks to attending Larry Hancock’s pre-performance lecture, I learned that director Jose Maria Condemi comes from a Latin American tradition that enjoys using inside jokes; specifically, the carrots in the Act 1 finale are an oblique reference to The Rabbit of Seville, and the apple on Ambrogio’s head a more obvious reference to Rossini’s final opera, William Tell. During the Largo al factotum, a young man and woman pantomimed the essence of the plot of The Elixir of Love, with Figaro playing the role of Dr. Dulcamara by offering the potion/wine to the man.
Adam Meza cut a very fine figure as Figaro, with the commanding stage presence that the role demands. He sang well, but without the richness of tone that Karagiozov produced in the other cast. If we had a Figaro with Kragiozov’s voice and Meza’s acting, we’d really have something.
Paul Murray, who had really impressed me as Alidoro in La Cenerentola, was our Don Basilio. I continue to be impressed, and hope to hear more from him in the future.
Torlef Borsting is benefiting from the training that is part of being an Opera San Jose resident artist. His A un dottor della mia sorte exceeded my expectations.
Chester Pidduck’s Almaviva was disappointing. It’s not a large voice, and he had a certain amount of trouble negotiating the florid passages in Ecco ridente, though he was more effective in the second act. Cathleen Candia sang a satisfying Rosina. Ming Luke, new to the podium in my experience, led a performance that sparkled just a bit more than Bryan Nies’s. Overall, a beta.
Figaro: Adam Meza
Almaviva: Chester Pidduck
Rosina: Cathleen Candia
Dr. Bartolo: Torlef Borsting
Don Basilio: Paul Murray
Fiorello: Anders Froehlich
Berta: Kindra Scharich
Thanks to attending Larry Hancock’s pre-performance lecture, I learned that director Jose Maria Condemi comes from a Latin American tradition that enjoys using inside jokes; specifically, the carrots in the Act 1 finale are an oblique reference to The Rabbit of Seville, and the apple on Ambrogio’s head a more obvious reference to Rossini’s final opera, William Tell. During the Largo al factotum, a young man and woman pantomimed the essence of the plot of The Elixir of Love, with Figaro playing the role of Dr. Dulcamara by offering the potion/wine to the man.
Adam Meza cut a very fine figure as Figaro, with the commanding stage presence that the role demands. He sang well, but without the richness of tone that Karagiozov produced in the other cast. If we had a Figaro with Kragiozov’s voice and Meza’s acting, we’d really have something.
Paul Murray, who had really impressed me as Alidoro in La Cenerentola, was our Don Basilio. I continue to be impressed, and hope to hear more from him in the future.
Torlef Borsting is benefiting from the training that is part of being an Opera San Jose resident artist. His A un dottor della mia sorte exceeded my expectations.
Chester Pidduck’s Almaviva was disappointing. It’s not a large voice, and he had a certain amount of trouble negotiating the florid passages in Ecco ridente, though he was more effective in the second act. Cathleen Candia sang a satisfying Rosina. Ming Luke, new to the podium in my experience, led a performance that sparkled just a bit more than Bryan Nies’s. Overall, a beta.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
The Barber of Seville, Opera San Jose, Feb. 20 2011
It has been quite a while since I’ve seen a “This performance is sold out” sign in front of the box office at the California Theatre, but there it was on Sunday—congratulations!
After the sprightly overture (which Rossini had borrowed from his Aureliano and Palmiera and Elizabeth, Queen of England), the curtain went up on a traditional set showing us a street in Seville. In the center, a two-story building with a front door and a wall fountain below, a balcony above and to the right, and directly above the front door, a translucent window through which we could see characters approaching the balcony. On the street, to the left, flower bed and a lamp post, and to the left of that, another building with a front door, separated from Dr. Bartolo’s house by a tiny alley. To the right, an alleyway entrance flanked by two palm trees, and further to the right, the door to a smaller house.
At the end of the first scene, Figaro and Almaviva stepped to the front of the stage to launch the finale with La bottega? while the curtain came down to cover the rotating of the set to display the interior of the house, where the remainder of the action will take place. We see the other side of the front door, with two massive sliding bolts above and below the latch; much stage business was made of opening and closing these bolts. In front, an easy chair and a sofa and a small writing desk; doors to the left and right. The overall color scheme was ochre; the first floor had a wainscoting with red and black diamonds over the ochre.
Our cast:
Figaro: Krassen Karagiozov
Almaviva: Michael Dailey
Rosina: Betany Coffland
Dr. Bartolo: Silas Elash
Don Basilio: Isaiah Musik-Ayala
Fiorello: Anders Froehlich
Berta: Tori Grayum
The stand-out performer was Karagiozov, who sang Figaro with the authority and vocal heft that the role calls for, though he lacked the last bit of stage presence that a Joseph Wright would have brought. (Wright sang Don Giovanni a few years ago, and it was fun seeing him enjoying being the Don.) I'm not sure that Elash’s voice was shown off to its best effect as Dr. Bartolo; I would love to hear him in Don Basilio’s La calunnia.
Jose Maria Condemi’s staging baffled me. It wasn’t offensive (for that, I refer to the Macbeth in San Francisco a few years ago), but I just didn't get the points that were trying to be made. Figaro enters, blindfolded, with four women pawing at him, as though he is The Stud Of Seville. Whereas the text calls for Fiorello’s musicians to praise Almaviva for their generous payment, these musicians wave their coins under his nose and point their instruments at him as though he has underpaid them. Berta always had a pipe in her mouth. I like to anticipate what the director might do with the Act 1 finale, for which all sorts of clever stagings have been devised. Here, the soldiers sent to arrest the “drunken” Almaviva wind up rotating in place, while various carrots are swung overhead. Huh?
It seemed that the Act 2 finale was cut just a little bit to bring the curtain down a few seconds before 11:00, at which time overtime charges kick in.
Overall, the performance did not sparkle as much as it might have. For that, and the baffling staging, I will award a “beta,” but barely.
After the sprightly overture (which Rossini had borrowed from his Aureliano and Palmiera and Elizabeth, Queen of England), the curtain went up on a traditional set showing us a street in Seville. In the center, a two-story building with a front door and a wall fountain below, a balcony above and to the right, and directly above the front door, a translucent window through which we could see characters approaching the balcony. On the street, to the left, flower bed and a lamp post, and to the left of that, another building with a front door, separated from Dr. Bartolo’s house by a tiny alley. To the right, an alleyway entrance flanked by two palm trees, and further to the right, the door to a smaller house.
At the end of the first scene, Figaro and Almaviva stepped to the front of the stage to launch the finale with La bottega? while the curtain came down to cover the rotating of the set to display the interior of the house, where the remainder of the action will take place. We see the other side of the front door, with two massive sliding bolts above and below the latch; much stage business was made of opening and closing these bolts. In front, an easy chair and a sofa and a small writing desk; doors to the left and right. The overall color scheme was ochre; the first floor had a wainscoting with red and black diamonds over the ochre.
Our cast:
Figaro: Krassen Karagiozov
Almaviva: Michael Dailey
Rosina: Betany Coffland
Dr. Bartolo: Silas Elash
Don Basilio: Isaiah Musik-Ayala
Fiorello: Anders Froehlich
Berta: Tori Grayum
The stand-out performer was Karagiozov, who sang Figaro with the authority and vocal heft that the role calls for, though he lacked the last bit of stage presence that a Joseph Wright would have brought. (Wright sang Don Giovanni a few years ago, and it was fun seeing him enjoying being the Don.) I'm not sure that Elash’s voice was shown off to its best effect as Dr. Bartolo; I would love to hear him in Don Basilio’s La calunnia.
Jose Maria Condemi’s staging baffled me. It wasn’t offensive (for that, I refer to the Macbeth in San Francisco a few years ago), but I just didn't get the points that were trying to be made. Figaro enters, blindfolded, with four women pawing at him, as though he is The Stud Of Seville. Whereas the text calls for Fiorello’s musicians to praise Almaviva for their generous payment, these musicians wave their coins under his nose and point their instruments at him as though he has underpaid them. Berta always had a pipe in her mouth. I like to anticipate what the director might do with the Act 1 finale, for which all sorts of clever stagings have been devised. Here, the soldiers sent to arrest the “drunken” Almaviva wind up rotating in place, while various carrots are swung overhead. Huh?
It seemed that the Act 2 finale was cut just a little bit to bring the curtain down a few seconds before 11:00, at which time overtime charges kick in.
Overall, the performance did not sparkle as much as it might have. For that, and the baffling staging, I will award a “beta,” but barely.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
La Fanciulla del West, Metropolitan Opera HD Live, Jan. 8 2011
Our local theater was fuller than expected when I arrived an hour before curtain time—I had to sit a row up from my usual spot. At curtain time, most of the seats up from the crossover aisle were occupied. Not bad for a opera that my father described as “second-rate Puccini.” But there were incentives: not only Deborah Voigt and Marcello Giordani as Minnie and Dick Johnson, but in the pit was our own Nicola Luisotti, who is making a considerable splash at San Francisco Opera as a Verdi and Puccini conductor.
San Francisco presented Fanciulla about 6 months ago; New York’s worked better. Act 1 is the whole interior of the Polka Saloon, with a big bar on the left, a wall with dirty windows on the right, and a roof overhead. (San Francisco’s was more “open air,” with a smaller bar on the left, a staircase to the right, and the rest open to the elements with a rock face in back.) In Act 2 we see the interior of Minnie’s cabin, thanks to a missing wall, but again we get a roof. Johnson gets to hide in the attic, courtesy of a pull-down staircase, rather than just climbing up the side of Minnie’s bed. Act 3 takes place on the Main Street of a Western town familiar to movie-goers, rather than in a canyon in the mountains, where the noose dangles from a skyhook.
The singers and conductor made a strong argument for this less-performed opera. Particularly impressive was Deborah Voigt’s entrance in Act 1 to break up the brawl in her saloon. She fired a rifle using real blanks, judging from the flash emanating from the muzzle, and took charge of the stage. The poker game with Jack Rance at the end of Act 2 is always a winner, with the soft drumbeats (echoes of Madama Butterfly?) turning the screws of tension. The finale of Act 3, with Minnie pleading for Johnson’s life, and Sonora maintaining that acceding to her wishes would be the best way to repay her for all that she has done for her “boys,” was surprisingly moving.
The cast:
Minnie: Deborah Voigt
Dick Johnson: Marcello Giordani
Jack Rance: Lucio Gallo
Ashby: Keith Miller
Sonora: Dwayne Croft
Wowkle: Ginger Costa-Jackson
Conductor: Nicola Luisotti
Everyone sang well, but I continue to be particularly impressed with Keith Miller and his sonorous bass voice, and hope to hear him in larger parts. Overall, my best Fanciulla yet—a very solid beta.
San Francisco presented Fanciulla about 6 months ago; New York’s worked better. Act 1 is the whole interior of the Polka Saloon, with a big bar on the left, a wall with dirty windows on the right, and a roof overhead. (San Francisco’s was more “open air,” with a smaller bar on the left, a staircase to the right, and the rest open to the elements with a rock face in back.) In Act 2 we see the interior of Minnie’s cabin, thanks to a missing wall, but again we get a roof. Johnson gets to hide in the attic, courtesy of a pull-down staircase, rather than just climbing up the side of Minnie’s bed. Act 3 takes place on the Main Street of a Western town familiar to movie-goers, rather than in a canyon in the mountains, where the noose dangles from a skyhook.
The singers and conductor made a strong argument for this less-performed opera. Particularly impressive was Deborah Voigt’s entrance in Act 1 to break up the brawl in her saloon. She fired a rifle using real blanks, judging from the flash emanating from the muzzle, and took charge of the stage. The poker game with Jack Rance at the end of Act 2 is always a winner, with the soft drumbeats (echoes of Madama Butterfly?) turning the screws of tension. The finale of Act 3, with Minnie pleading for Johnson’s life, and Sonora maintaining that acceding to her wishes would be the best way to repay her for all that she has done for her “boys,” was surprisingly moving.
The cast:
Minnie: Deborah Voigt
Dick Johnson: Marcello Giordani
Jack Rance: Lucio Gallo
Ashby: Keith Miller
Sonora: Dwayne Croft
Wowkle: Ginger Costa-Jackson
Conductor: Nicola Luisotti
Everyone sang well, but I continue to be particularly impressed with Keith Miller and his sonorous bass voice, and hope to hear him in larger parts. Overall, my best Fanciulla yet—a very solid beta.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Don Carlo, Metropolitan Opera HD Live, Dec. 11 2010
Up early on a Saturday morning to get to our local theater in plenty of time to get a good seat for the transmission that begins at 9:30 am west coast time—what we do for our passions! But we were rewarded for our efforts with over 3½ hours of fine music, plus intermissions, making 4 hours 40 minutes in total—so “lunch” didn’t happen until nearly 3:00. I hardly noticed.
The staging was modern yet faithful to the story, meaning that the set designer used modern materials to evoke the time and place of the action, as opposed to setting it in, say, a laundromat. The Met is to be commended for presenting the complete opera (less the dance numbers); we got the original Act I, in the forest of Fontainebleu. A few stick-figure trees served as the forest, two scalloped white carpets served as the snow, and the area between the carpets served as a path through the forest. Act II scene 1 in the church was gloomy, with dark pillars and a gigantic sarcophagous with “CARLOS” chiseled on the side in perfect Roman capitals. The wall that serves as the backdrop for Act II scene 2 in the monastery garden was made out of large oblong red “bricks,” each with shallow tetrahedral face scored with lines. Not a 1558 wall, but still sufficient to evoke a walled garden. Left of center, enough bricks are missing so that their absence forms a cross, with a bell hanging in the middle of it. Act III scene 1 failed to leave an impression. Act III, scene 2, the auto-da-fé (burning the heretics at the stake) was the most impressive, with the highly sculpted golden façade of a Gothic cathedral in the background, and a very large painting of the head of Christ crowned with thorns to the left. Act IV scene 1 brings us to King Philip’s study, with high walls left back and right, punctuated with a rectangular grid of foot-square windows; there are a couple of desks with accoutrements. Act IV scene 2 is in a very spare dungeon. The high walls continue, everything else goes away, and the prison bars are represented by a row of soldiers standing three feet apart facing away from the audience. Act V brings us back to the church with the CARLOS sarcophagous.
Our cast:
Don Carlo: Roberto Alagna
Elisabetta: Marina Poplavskaya
Rodrigo: Simon Keenlyside
King Philip: Ferruccio Furlanetto
Princess Eboli: Anna Smirnova
Grand Inquisitor: Eric Halfvarson
Conductor: Yannick Nézet-Séguin
All were a delight to listen to, but I will single out Eric Halfvarson’s Grand Inquisitor as particularly noteworthy, with a wonderful bass voice and a superb portrayal of the ancient, doddering, yet malevolent cleric.
For a while at least, my thinking will be colored by the magnificent Makropulos Case, recently seen at San Francisco Opera. Don Carlo did not reach that level. Good music, yes; good singing, unquestionably; but no goosebumps, no “I have to catch the encore as well.” A good solid beta.
The staging was modern yet faithful to the story, meaning that the set designer used modern materials to evoke the time and place of the action, as opposed to setting it in, say, a laundromat. The Met is to be commended for presenting the complete opera (less the dance numbers); we got the original Act I, in the forest of Fontainebleu. A few stick-figure trees served as the forest, two scalloped white carpets served as the snow, and the area between the carpets served as a path through the forest. Act II scene 1 in the church was gloomy, with dark pillars and a gigantic sarcophagous with “CARLOS” chiseled on the side in perfect Roman capitals. The wall that serves as the backdrop for Act II scene 2 in the monastery garden was made out of large oblong red “bricks,” each with shallow tetrahedral face scored with lines. Not a 1558 wall, but still sufficient to evoke a walled garden. Left of center, enough bricks are missing so that their absence forms a cross, with a bell hanging in the middle of it. Act III scene 1 failed to leave an impression. Act III, scene 2, the auto-da-fé (burning the heretics at the stake) was the most impressive, with the highly sculpted golden façade of a Gothic cathedral in the background, and a very large painting of the head of Christ crowned with thorns to the left. Act IV scene 1 brings us to King Philip’s study, with high walls left back and right, punctuated with a rectangular grid of foot-square windows; there are a couple of desks with accoutrements. Act IV scene 2 is in a very spare dungeon. The high walls continue, everything else goes away, and the prison bars are represented by a row of soldiers standing three feet apart facing away from the audience. Act V brings us back to the church with the CARLOS sarcophagous.
Our cast:
Don Carlo: Roberto Alagna
Elisabetta: Marina Poplavskaya
Rodrigo: Simon Keenlyside
King Philip: Ferruccio Furlanetto
Princess Eboli: Anna Smirnova
Grand Inquisitor: Eric Halfvarson
Conductor: Yannick Nézet-Séguin
All were a delight to listen to, but I will single out Eric Halfvarson’s Grand Inquisitor as particularly noteworthy, with a wonderful bass voice and a superb portrayal of the ancient, doddering, yet malevolent cleric.
For a while at least, my thinking will be colored by the magnificent Makropulos Case, recently seen at San Francisco Opera. Don Carlo did not reach that level. Good music, yes; good singing, unquestionably; but no goosebumps, no “I have to catch the encore as well.” A good solid beta.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
The Makropulos Case version 2, San Francisco Opera, Nov. 28 2010
Today’s final performance of The Makropulos Case continued to maintain the very high standards of the dress rehearsal and the performance of Nov. 24. Karita Mattila dominated the stage as Emilia Marty with her singing and particularly her acting; Gerd Grochowski again made his mark as a very impressive Baron Prus. I was delighted to see in the program notes that we will see him again soon, as Gunther in San Francisco’s 2011 Ring. And again, a well-deserved standing ovation for Mattila at curtain call. After her bows, she bestowed the one-cheek/other-cheek European style double kiss on each of her fellow cast members. Another alpha for the books. A candidate for my “top ten” list, which only admits new members after a period of time to see whether I keep asking people “Did you see Karita Mattila in The Makropulos Case in 2010?”
Tosca version 2, Opera San Jose, Nov. 26 2010
We saw the penultimate performance of Tosca, given by the opposite cast from the opening night cast, with Rebecca Davis as Tosca, Christopher Bengochea as Cavaradossi, and Torlef Borsting as Scarpia. Krassen Karagiozov and Isaiah Musik-Ayala repeated the roles of Angelotti and the sacristan, respectively. They were again in fine voice, Karagiozov in particular. His singing seems to have grown some considerable heft in the lower register. Davis demonstrated the virtues that led to her selection into San Francisco Opera’s Merola program. Bengochea seemed to be having an off night: his voice sounded husky and strained. Has his recent illness and weight loss affected his singing? Borsting lacked the impact that Silas Elash had in the other cast, seen the previous week. A marginal beta.
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