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.
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
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,
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