Soloists, Orquestra Simfònica and Chorus Gran Teatre del Liceu. Conductor: Yves Abel., Gran Teatre del Liceu de Barcelona. 9 & 10.03.2010 (JMI)

New Production based on the original co-production from New York Metropolitan, London’s Royal Opera and Vienna Staatsoper.

La Fille du Régiment has not been a frequent visitor to Barcelona’s Liceu. Its last outing there was in 1993, as a showcase for Edita Gruberova in the title role. Most opera-lovers would agree that this opera is not programmed for its intrinsic musical qualities, but rather as a vehicle for at least one great singer. If the last occasion the Liceu featured this work was for the Slovak diva, this time the presence of the work was assured the Peruvian idol Juan Diego Flórez.

Wherever he goes this great tenor is guaranteed a palpably triumphant atmosphere. The Liceu event was no exception. Success was in the bag before anybody even began to sing. After a little more than accurately played overture the first cheers, although quite sparse, could be heard in the theatre. The problem is that some people come to the opera with a full complement of “bravos” but lack the judgement to know how or when to unload them. “Tal dei tempi è i costume” (Carlo Gerard dixit).

The Laurent Pelly production was announced as a new item, which is rather strange, since this work has in recent years been present in many of the most important opera houses in the world, always with Juan Diego Flórez as Tonio. I guess that the Liceu had built fresh sets, but there is noting new in the production apart from a speckle of fresh touches in the final act around the figure of La Duchesse de Crakentorp. The last performance of this production at the Metropolitan took place on 22 February 2010, while the premiere in Barcelona was on 7 March 2010. There was precious little time for transport and rehearsals.

Laurent Pelly moved the action into World War I and this has had a very good reception, both from audiences and critics, since its premiere in Covent Garden in January 2007. Mr. Pelly does outstanding stage-work, in particular in the way he uses the choir and extras. It should be noted that he draws fine collaboration from all the singers, who have a great time on stage and this is immediately transmitted to the audience. When so often we have to attend so-called conceptual productions or encounter the work of directors who pay attention only to aesthetics, it is all the more praiseworthy when we come up against the work of a true man of the theatre who puts his job and imagination at the service of the opera. Pelly’s sets are quite simple, consisting of a very rich room (no walls) in Act II and a few mountain-dominated maps of Europe. What stands out above all else is Pelly’s great stage direction, full of imagination and gags that win the laughter of the public. Particularly notable is the appearance of the Regiment in the final scene with a tank and Tonio at the top. Then there’s the final presentation on stage during the last ensemble “Salut à la France” dominated by a huge painted cock which puts an end to the opera with his “Kikirikí!” or “cock-a-doodle-doo!”.

As so often with Juan Diego Flórez, the musical direction was in the hands of Canadian Yves Abel. Abel favours precision and lively tempos. He was also very much at the service of the singers – just as well in bel canto. The orchestra was not at their best but the Choir was truly outstanding.

Patrizia Ciofi was Marie in the first cast and she was quite convincing. I find her voice too metallic and rather small, but her interpretation is outstanding – a personal success. She is a soprano to be seen on stage rather than being listened to on studio recordings. In the second cast the daughter of the regiment was Georgian soprano Nino Machaidze. I have rarely seen in an opera such identification between singer and character. She had lots of fun on stage and this was immediately transmitted to the audience. Her voice is bigger than Ciofi’s, but the timbre is not overly beautiful. In addition to her excellent singing she has a great figure and is an remarkable actress. At 26 a great future lies ahead of her. Ciofi and Machaidze are very good but neither of them could challenge in vocal terms the memories I have of Mirella Freni or June Anderson in that role.

Juan Diego Flórez was the much heralded Tonio and he proved that he has no rival today in this repertoire. His stage performance was helped by the fact that he has performed dozens of times in this production; he seems very comfortable. As I left the theatre I began to think of the damage the newspapers did to this opera, when they wrote of the triumph of a young Pavarotti at the Metropolitan singing an “incredible 9 high Cs”. Since then it is now as if there is nothing else in this opera than “Ah, mes amis”. Flórez has contributed to this with his encores of the piece. I say all this, because I will exchange a Flórez encore of “Pour me raprocher de Marie” for hundreds of high Cs. This does not undervalue his interpretation of the most famous cavatina, where he was as bright as can be expected, but it only serves to emphasize his singing of this second act aria, where he was absolutely outstanding. He sang with exquisite taste the like of which I have not encountered since Alfredo Kraus. For me that was the peak of the whole evening. In the second cast Antonio Gandía was a good Tonio. His voice is pleasant, although it gets rather backwards. He was quite bright singing “Ah, mes amis” but not at same level in the second act aria.

Pietro Spagnoli was a good Sulpice; better than Carlos Bergasa in the second cast. The Marquise of Berkenfield was the American mezzo-soprano Victoria Livengood, whose stage performance was better than her singing. She was great fun.

The auditorium was sold out and the public showed their enthusiasm repeatedly. Juan Diego Flórez encored “Ah, mes amis”, in response to the seemingly endless applause. In the final reception, there were three artists truly cheered: Juan Diego Flórez, Nino Machaidze and Patrizia Ciofi. Both sopranos were absolutely delighted with their reception. For Machaidze it was her house debut. For Ciofi it was some reparation for the audience reception she encountered a few years back, when she sang Lucia replacing Gruberova. Victoria Livengood had a very good reception also.

Direction: Laurent Pelly.
Sets: Chantal Thomas.

Costumes: Laurent Pelly.

Lighting. Joël Adam.

Choreography: Laura Scozzi.

Casts:

Marie: Patrizia Ciofi/Nino Machaidze.

Tonio: Juan Diego Flórez/Antonio Gandía,

Sulpice: Pietro Spagnoli/Carlos Bergasa.

M. Berkenfield: Victoria Livengood.

Hortensius: Alex Sanmartí.

Caporal: Josep Ribot.

Duchesse de Crakentorp: Ángel Pavlovsky.

The Part III Set - Photograph © Dan Rest

Lyric Opera of Chicago’s new production of Hector Berlioz’s La Damnation de Faust marks the first performance of this work in the company’s repertoire. This work, which its composer called a légende dramatique and initially conceived as a concert opera, has been revived in recent years in innovative productions on the stages of various opera houses, a change from what had been its customary venue in concert halls. In fact, Lyric’s production combines conventional staging with various projections to support Berlioz’s highly connotative work. While it is possible to appreciate a reference in the text of the work and even to apprehend the tone painting in the score, the production makes some of the references come to life on stage.

Set and costume designer George Souglides presents this version of the Faust legend in a twentieth-century milieu. Faust is first shown at a computer desk in a confining cubicle raised high on the stage and framed in light, as if it were a cel in a filmed graphic novel. Yet when the scene shifts to Faust’s experience of the peasants merrymaking, his raised set comes down to the stage, were the crowd is a made up of various sets of identically costumed people having a picnic. The costumes for this scene appear to be from the 1960s, predating Faust’s cubicle in the opening scene. This picnic scene then dissolves into the advancing military, as male dancers in fatigues with red berets dominate the set. They are soon joined by blond women in sweaters, who carry flags which suggest the red-gold-black colors of Germany, but with a medieval-style emblem in the center.

When the work moves to Brander’s scene, the traditional cellar is replaced by a high-tech disco, with banks of glaring lights. The dais in the center of the disco is the setting for a public display of pole-dancing, also suggesting a crucifixion, since the vertical pole intersects with one of the horizontal rows of lights. For this scene the women entertaining at the disco are dressed as large-breasted rodents, whose tails can be fondled by the men in the on-stage audience. Brander himself is costumed as a ghoul, suggesting that he may have already sealed some diabolic pact, a drastically different view of singer Christian Van Horn to his usual appearances on this stage.

When Marguerite appears, she has a 1960s style hairdo, and the flat she shares with her aged mother is a three-room affair that opens to a balcony. The living room with television is next to Marguerite’s rather dated-looking bedroom with its patterned wallpaper, dresser photos in standing frames, and its own crucifix. It has the look of a Kubrick film, and the lack of solid walls between the staged spaces allows the supernatural character of Méphistophélès to move between the chambers seemingly by magic. Marguerite’s neighbors, when they appear, emerge from various doors under her flat, and their costumes suggest a group of middle-aged or older couples roused from sleep – or perhaps some sort of nocturnal cleaning activity, since most of are carrying or wearing blue latex gloves.

The jail scene is also set in the twentieth century, with Marguerite seated at the kind of interrogation desk that is the stock-in-trade for television police shows and the noose already prepared for her is suspended surrealistically center – stage over what will become the pit into which Faust descends. This stands in contrast to the more conventional depiction of a large basilica which becomes the setting for the epilogue in which Marguerite is redeemed.

While most of the settings indicate the twentieth century, the text arises of course from the more medieval libretto that Berlioz composed with his colleague Almire Gandonnière, based on Gérard de Nerval’s famous French translation of Goethe’s Faust. At times some of the action outlined in the published plot summary defers to Stephen Langridge’s conception of the work in a twentieth-century setting in which Langridge attempts to reflect in the stage action some of the details not fully explained in the libretto itself. One prominent example is in the way in which Marguerite accidentally poisoned her mother by administering too many doses of a sedative, in order to have an uninterrupted assignation with Faust. (This was shown by having Marguerite bring her mother repeated cups of tea.) In some places however, the set’s details have a life of their own, as when a youth from the picnic scene is violently conscripted by the soldiers, an element apparently connecting the scene with the peasants to the following one on the plains of Hungary. Meaning is not entirely explicit though since we see duplicate Fausts and Marguerites in her bedroom and while is certainly was not a problem, it would help to have more program note information about the reasons for this.

Despite such questions about the staging of this production, the musical performance was outstanding, both vocally and instrumentally. Paul Groves is very well suited to the role of Faust, and his vocal range and varied tone serve the character very clearly. His acting is also very good conveying much when it portraying his anxieties or later, his hesitation. Without chewing the scenery, he gave enough sense of those frames of mind to help the audience grasp his situation, yet it was his singing that made the most important impression. From his opening monologue, “Le vieil hiver” his phrasing and sound were persuasive; he was consistently precise and expressive through the entire performance, but his finest moments came at the beginning of the third part, in his aria “Merci, doux crepuscule.” Here Groves was especially clear and resolved in lower and mid-range passages while the soft pitches at the upper end of the tessitura at the repeated “silence” sounded completely natural and easy – such is his facility in this challenging number. He repeated this impression in the duet with Marguerite “Ange adoré,” later in the same act.

As Marguerite, Susan Graham delivered an equally solid performance. Her first piece, the aria “Autrefois un roi du Thulé” was moving on its own merits and both her musical precision and clear diction were apparent throughout the whole performance as with each strophe she moved the fable of the King of Thule on to its sad conclusion. Spontaneous applause at the conclusion of this number demonstrated the continuing power of this familiar piece when performed so well. The duet with Faust “Ange adore” was equally convincing because of the two musicians’ deep knowledge of French opera repertoire in general and of this work in particular. They worked excellently together. In Ms Graham’s final number, the policewoman waiting to arrest Marguerite brought a surreal presence to an otherwise deeply personal scene, and here the staging really helped to reinforce what the audience was hearing – the policewoman drawing attention to the singing by signalling the other officers to stand back until has Marguerite finished. This certainly echoed the audience’s rapt attention to Ms Graham in this scene, in which Marguerite’s serenity can be heard to start eroding. Altogether Ms Graham gave a compelling performance.

John Relyea has sung the part of Méphistophélès at the Metropolitan Opera, most recently last season, and he brought all of his knowledge and experience to Lyric’s production. His firm and dark sound fit the role well, and he clearly made the most of the character without resorting to stereotypes. He delivered the declamatory passages to great effect, even though sometimes more sustained lines, as in the satirical “Devant la maison” in Part Three, were less powerful. Yet he gave a commanding shape to the fourth part, the section in which the devil brings his pact with Faust to its conclusion and ultimately delivers him to hell. Here the chorus was vivid too, with the famous scene of pandemonium delivered with the musical solidity it requires.

In fact, throughout the whole performance the chorus provided a fine reading of the score. Its opening number, “Les bergers quittent leurs troupeaux” was rhythmically engaging and ringing with solid intonation. The entire ensemble blended well, something actually reinforced by the positioning of small groupings of the various voice types around the stage. The men of the chorus were also solid in the scene at Brander’s cellar, “A boire encore!” while the numbers which evoking religious rites, the Easter hymn “Christ vient de ressusciter!” in Part Two and the tableau with Marguerite in the final scene “Remonte au ciel” were notable for masterful choral sound which complemented the accompanying orchestral sound marevellously.

The orchestra itself deserves recognition for its clear and detailed playing under Sir Andrew Davis’ direction. This was particularly evident in the “Ride to the Abyss” in the fourth part, where the orchestral performance evoked more terrors than any scenic designer could imagine. Sir Andrew and his orchestra were as strong a component of this new production as the fine chorus and, of course, the international cast of principals.

The audience responded enthusiastically with warm applause for Relyea, Graham, and Groves while acknowledging the fine contribution of Christian Van Horn, who was impressive as Brander, another solid role his repertoire. When the design team took their own bow however, some of the audience expressed displeasure, while other parts of the house greeted them with wild approval. Clearly the production had succeeded in engaging the audience wholeheartedly, one way or another.

Production:

Set and Costume Designer: George Souglides
Lighting Designer: Wolfgang Göbbel
Stage Director: Stephen Langridge
Choreographer: Philippe Giraudeau
Chorus Master: Donald Nally
Conductor: Sir Andrew Davis

Cast:

Faust: Paul Groves
Méphistophélès: John Relyea
Brander: Christian Van Horn
Marguerite: Susan Graham

But Richard Eyre’s new production of composer Georges Bizet masterpiece has turned out to be the hit of the Met opera season so far. In the January 2010 issue of Opera News, the British director described that he and set and costume designer Rob Howell wanted to give the opera a grittier feel by moving the story from 19th Century Spain up to a “period a century forward to the 1930s, the fascist Franco era.” Howell was able to deliver on Eyre’s vision by creating, “a circular architectural space on the Met’s rotating stage” with a unit set that suggested “the ruins of a city wall, perhaps after a bombing.” Also, Eyre was able to add “psychological depth and social realism” with the cast he put together.

Alagna may not have achieved all that he wanted vocally with his Don Jose, but physically and dramatically the tenor delivered an emotionally disturbed character whose possessive love for Carmen could only lead to their destruction. Even though this was a new production for Alagna and Garanca, they looked entirely comfortable in their respective roles, likely because they sang Carmen and Don José in Europe before they came to the Met.

Garanca’s physical carriage as Carmen coincided with her vocal performance on the radio. The role posed no problems vocally, and she produced an even sound throughout her vocal range, but still she lacked the piquant nasal sound that French native speakers bring to the text. But her interpretation was unique. Garanca presented Carmen as an independent woman who showed annoyance with anyone trying to claim her love without her full consent. She also took her physical attraction to men as a given; the mezzo, even with her blue eyes, presented a warm, alluring Carmen; this no-nonsense Carmencita could have any pick of the litter.

The Act Four duet between Carmen and Don José was a dramatic standout for the couple. Alagna’s José, a volatile composite of jealousy, rage and mental instability appropriately did not mix with Garanca’s determination to be rid of José as a lover and ready to take on a new amorous adventure with the toreador Escamillo. The reason for their exciting delivery in this last scene was the dramatic harmony of their vocal strengths and emotional eruptions.

Teddy Tahu Rhodes’s stage presence as Escamillo added a lot to his performance. The tall baritone looked handsome in his black toreador costume and exhibited enough swagger to compensate for those moments when he could not meet the demands of the role’s vocal range.

Barbara Frittoli added a comfortable visual sense to the steady pleasing tone that her Micaela exhibited on the radio. In the soprano’s Act One duet with Don José, the couple produced some beautiful pianissimi that gave their meeting the poignant conclusion it needed. Here, Gary Halvorson’s camera produced the right visual picture to accompany the tender strains in Bizet’s music.

After conductor Vannick Nézet-Séguin’s rushed opening of Act One, he gave a clear and impassioned reading of the opera’s score which allowed the singers plenty of room to dramatize the vocals.

Unfortunately, in Act Two, Halvorson’s camera work moved too quickly over some of the scenes that involved the chorus, which interfered with the viewer’s understanding of the story. Also, he did not capture the best parts of choreographer Christopher Wheeldon’s gypsy dance at the beginning of Act Two. Halvorson moved the camera too quickly from one group of dancers to another for viewers to catch the many exacting linear movements the choreographer created for them as they moved through Bizet’s vibrant, earthy measures. He did, however, create an intense dramatic visual for the opera’s final duet.

Luckily for opera lovers, who never get tired of all the feedback a new production can garner, there were lots of opinions to wrangle over. The question of what edition of the opera to present has plagued the opera world since Contes premiered at the Opéra-Comique in February,1881.

In the New York Times on December 26, 2009, Anthony Tommasini spoke about the Met’s choice of edition. “Within the opera world, however, one aspect…has come in for particular criticism. …an edition of the work considered outmoded and questionable by many informed buffs and Offenbach scholars.” At the end of the article, Tommasini comes to Levine’s defense. “As I said, I take no sides about the authenticity or appeal of any of the sources for Hoffmann. But Mr. Levine is within his rights to perform a more traditional version of the work if it suits the needs of his company.”

But David Shengold in the Gay City News in December, 2009, wasn’t having any of that; he just about dislikes everything in the production. As for Bart Sher’s work, Shengold called it, “cluttered, unilluminating.” As for Levine’s conducting it was “without much variety of phrase or a sense of belief in the piece,” and finally, on the edition, Shengold stated, “despite the accumulated research of recent years-the same old corrupt Hoffmann edition the Met has been giving since 1992…”

None of this, however, seemed to put a damper on the audience’s good time as they watched the opera unfold on the screen.

Sher’s early 20th-century look with a cabaret motif pictured an environment in which even Kafka’s angst could survive by using the somber colors many opera directors find so attractive today.

If not everyone liked Sher’s show, it didn’t obscure his ability to get his singers to perform in a continuously natural style that showed up very well for the camera. Gary Halvorson’s camera work was clear in catching everyone at the right moment until half-way through Act Two when he started to speed up many of his shots, diluting the dramatic effect of the performers’ portrayals. Fortunately in Act Three, he opted for fewer camera swings.

The cast announced last season for Contes was culled from the Met’s list of popular All-Stars. Mexican tenor Rolando Villazon was to be Hoffmann, a part suited to him at this point in his career. Russian soprano Anna Netrebko, a Met favorite daughter, was signed to sing the three soprano roles: the wind-up doll, Olympia: the emotionally fragile, Antonia; and the Venetian seductress, Giuletta. Who better to play the fatal loves in Hoffmann’s life than the supreme operatic femme of the day. And bass Rene Papa, whose strong vocal resources and sturdy stage presence was deemed perfect for Hoffmann’s nemises: Coppelius, Dr. Miracle and Dapertutto, and Lindorf in the prologue.

As can happen in the opera world, what was down on paper was not to go up on the stage. Villazon’s vocal state was starting to show signs of overuse, and he ended up with having throat surgery. Netebko’s vocal quality was starting to take on a darker hue that showed her best for Antonia only. And Papa, whose career took him in a different direction that did not lead to the four villains.

The Maltese tenor Joseph Calleja undertook the long role and portrayed an interesting Hoffmann. Physically, he looked the part and acted the tormented lover quite convincingly. He also handled the vocals with ease and, according to Shengold, exhibited “a nicely Gallic dynamic palate,” even though the critic thought his French pronunciation unacceptable along with the rest of the cast. He wondered, “how could Levine permit the almost universally poor or barely adequate French pronunciation?” To be fair, it’s not just at the Met, but in many opera companies in the opera world, French has been given scant attention as a performing language.

As the first of Hoffmann’s loves, Kathleen Kim made an amusing Olympia in her bright pink costume with a bright voice to match. The audience certainly enjoyed her antics as the wind-up doll whom Hoffmann wants to love, and he becomes frustrated as Olympia unwinds before he has a chance to declare his love.

As Giuletta, the third woman in Hoffmann’s fantasy, Ekaterina Gubanova’s mezzo had too many heavy undertones to always please as the sly courtesan who tricks Hoffmann into another false love, but the Russian was powerful in the ensemble. The audience gave teasing glances at all the ladies in Giuletta’s boudoir outfitted in fancy bras and panties who acted out in spread-eagle formation Sher’s ideas of lasciviousness.

The love in the middle was Netrebko’s Antonia, who was the most heartbreaking of Hoffmann’s loves. The Russian singer made a strong vocal and dramatic impression as Hoffmann’s young love, who, too physically weak to survive the rigors of a singing career, dies before the poet can save her. Netrebko has become an audience favorite at the Met ever since her debut as Natasha in Sergei Prokofiev’s War and Peace in 2002. The soprano is nearly as idolized as the great Divas who came before her such as Lucrezia Bori, Bidu Sayão and Licia Albanese.

Alan Held sang the four villainous roles, each one blocking Hoffmann’s amorous pursuits. The bass-baritone filled the role’s persona, and, in the telecast, the audience could see the dashes of evil and the subtle arrogance in his performance that may have not been as explicit in the house. Mezzo-soprano Kate Lindsey showed both sides of her character’s personality as Hoffmann’s side-kick and his Muse of Poetry. Slim with an attractive-enough mezzo to fill the role’s vocal demands, she shadowed the poet as he moved from one infatuation to another. In fact, the entire cast looked comfortable hitting their marks and sang their parts with ease.

One of Sher’s best qualities as a director is getting his people in opera to move in a natural acting style. He also was able to get his cast in The Barber of Seville to do the same. We look forward to more opera productions at the Met where his talents may shine.

go to www.operanews.org and click on The Met Live HD for a synopsis of the opera.

The standout event in the broadcast was not a happy one. It sounded quite uncomfortable to hear how Roberto Alagna botched the ending of Don Jose’s aria La fleur que tu m’avais jetée in Act Two. From the beginning of the opera, Alagna used only a mezzo-forte to forte dynamic level. Unfortunately, there were no vocal shadings of the text that would have allowed listeners to appreciate the tenor’s native French. So when the aria arrived, which he delivered in the same fashion, he opted to sing the final B flat piano instead of forte as it is written. The tenor not only failed to hit the note, but caused the dramatic intensity to flatten out for the remainder of the act.

The role, however, is a great emotional match for Alagna’s personality, so the Act Four duet with Elina Garanca’s Carmen proved to be a searing vocal and dramatic experience for the listener. Their passion and talent vividly captured the duo’s last tragic moments.

Teddy Tahu Rhodes as Escamillo was a last minute replacement for Mariusz Kwiecien. With only the vocals to consider, the baritone sounded as if he used all his vocal resources to get through the performance. The bull fighter’s nonchalant personality masks the role’s demands for a voice with a more solid frame.

Garanca’s Carmen sounded full-voiced and committed, even if some Gallic flavor in the voice was missing. Barbara Frittoli’s Micaela came across with a steady pleasing tone. .

There has been talk about the fast tempi in Vannick Nézet-Séguin’s conducting style. It carried over into an intermission feature where the conductor gave his reasons why he used them. The speed of his opening bars in Act One sounded as if he wanted to make everyone remember his name.

After the second act, Rene Fleming met up with Garanca and Alagna as they came off stage. On the radio, all three sounded somewhat nervous and anxious about having to do one of these “required” intermission chats after Alagna’s vocal mishap. It will be interesting to match the voices with the body language at the Encore performance on February 3rd.

Production from the Théâtre Capitole de Toulouse.

My father used to say: “Days of plenty, nights of famine” and I can hardly find a more appropriate expression to explain the contrast between of the last two operas from ABAO’s current season. From the riches of the recent Billy Budd we progress to the poverty of this Faust.

The combination of several negative factors ultimately explains one the most boring Faust productions I have ever seen but too little time in rehearsal and a few poor artistic choices in the commissioning are the most relevant factors contributing to this poor performance.

Just 12 days between the last performance of Billy Budd and the premiere of Faust was much too short an interval and in fact, the total time available before the dress rehearsal was a mere 9 days. The first unfortunate artistic decision was the choice of a Nicolas Joel production, a choice that perhaps explained the extraordinarily short rehearsal period, since it is absolutely static. I reviewed this production when it was premiered in Toulouse earlier this year and although the stage direction in Bilbao was handled by Gregory Voillemet there was no improvement at all. As it happens, not a single member of the creative team appeared in stage for the final bows. Who knows why?

The second important artistic mistake was ABAO’s choice of conductor, the Israeli Rani Calderón. I have no doubt that his is a promising young talent, but the circumstances surrounding this Faust were certainly not the best for a conductor without extensive experience of this opera. Mr Calderón gave us a flat and boring reading of the score, with some very erratic tempi, an example of which is the issue of timings listed in the programme. Assuming that these were based on the rehearsals, it is difficult to understand why the anticipated 90 minutes of the first half became 105, or why the predicted 85 minutes of the second half ultimately came in at 72. The Kermesse scene was an example of something that should never occur in an opera house; there was very little coordination between stage and pit – something that never would have happened with a more experienced conductor. And in these circumstances, one cannot but welcome the cutting of the whole of the ballet music.

The Orchestra was not on form either, far from the standard shown in their recent performance of Verdi’s Requiem. The Bilbao Chorus is also one of the best in Spain, but they need a conductor under whose baton they can feel secure which was by no means the case here. It’s a genuine mercy that the production was essentially static, as this allowed them to improve in Act IV.

The protagonist of the opera was the Polish tenor Piotr Beczala, who is now considered – and with very good reason – one of the most outstanding singers today. It would be difficult I think, to find a more appropriate vocal interpreter for Faust, and the audience clearly recognized this at once. Beczala’s voice is beautiful, very homogeneous, having strengthened significantly in the lower register, without having lost any of his top notes. Sadly though, having heard him in other theatres, I have to say that the special characteristics of the Euskalduna Palace did not help him much. Beczala had some sdifficulties in projecting his upper register here, something almost unnoticeable in other opera houses, but having said that, his performance was very good, since he adds an outstanding elegance to his undoubted vocal quality. He sang an excellent “Salut, demeure chaste et pure” crowned with a very bright high C.

The choice of Eva Mei as Marguerite was certainly not a mistake but unfortunately her performance was still somewhat questionable because her interpretation felt boring and superficial. The biggest problem was that she sang her part – up to the prison scene – as if it were a private rehearsal. It is unacceptable to sing “Le Roi de Thulé” and the ‘Jewel Song’ as if warming up the voice and if there were people present who thought that this was because the voice was on on the small side, they must have realized during the last scene that this was not so. As it happens, her voice is not exactly huge and it could be a matter for discussion whether Marguerite is a natural role for her. It is also true that this was her debut in the role, but even that cannot justify her mostly muted singing.

The choice of Laurent Naouri as Mephistopheles seemed a more appropriate decision in terms of stage presence than it was in purely vocal terms. Naouri was an accomplished actor, who gave us quite a lively and funny devil. In vocal terms though, Mephistopheles needs a voice of larger amplitude and authority than he can offer. He was unable to achieve a sense of menacing evil in the Church scene and he suffered a lot with the tempos taken for “Le Veau d’or”. Neither this nor the Serenade received applause from the audience.

The role of Valentin can never save a production of Faust but neither can it sink it. It is obvious that no company invites great stars to play this character, just as it is clear that no star would want to sing it, given its secondary importance in the opera. The Russian baritone Rodion Pogossov was a good enough Valentin, not particularly bright however, and at his best in his final number.

Alexandra Rivas was an accomplished Siebel, singing both her aria in the third act and the Duet with Marguerite in Act IV, which is traditionally cut, with gusto. Nadine Weissmann was a quite remarkable Marthe Schwerlein.

There was a full house as is usual in Bilbao. The audience was distinctly cool, and there were cheers only after Beczala’s aria. At the final bows the triumph went to Mr Beczala and Laurent Naouri received warm applause but the rest of the cast and the conductor received nothing beyond courtesies. The odds are that if our local public was more passionate and less educated, we would have had some sonorous booing.

Director: Nicolas Joel (Original).Gregory Voillemet (Revival)
Sets: Ezio Frigerio.
Costumes: Franca Squarciapino.
Lighting: Vinicio Cheli.

Cast:

Faust: Piotr Beczala.
Marguerite: Eva Mei.
Mephistopheles: Laurent Naouri.
Valentin: Rodion Pogossov.
Siebel: Alexandra Rivas.
Marthe: Nadine Weissmann.
Wagner: Luis Cansino.

Reprinted with permission from Seen and Heard - Music Web’s Live Opera, Concert and Recital Reviews.

Production:

Director: David McVicar
Set Design: Tanya McCallin
Original Choreographer: Michael Keegan-Dolan
Lighting: Paula Constable
Chorus Master: Donald Nally

Cast:

Manon: Natalie Dessay
Chevalier des Grieux: Jonas Kaufmann
Lescaut: Christopher Feigum
Count des Grieux: Raymond Aceto
Guillot: David Cangelosi
Brétigny: Jake Gardner

An auspicious opening gala, Lyric Opera of Chicago’s production of Massenet’s Manon offered a festival-quality performance of this familiar opera. The international cast involved with this production brought new life to this work, which has been perennially popular since its premiere over a century ago. At the core of Massenet’s Manon are the title character and her lover, the Chevalier des Grieux. Tracing her lifelong infatuation with Des Grieux, the libretto by Meilhac and Gille is a valiant dramatization of Prévost’s famous novel about the moral decline and spiritual redemption of an archetype courtesan of the eighteenth century. The irony of a young girl destined for the convent to run off with the youthful Des Grieux is matched only by the reversal of character in Manon’s continual search for worldly pleasures, only to realize the value of priceless love when she is dying : in setting this story Massenet found a way to allow the title character’s changing personality to emerge clearly within the five acts of this work. As the young Manon essentially opens her eyes to the sensual world around her in the opening, her aria “Voyons, Manon” is the fine expression of the character’s openness to a world denied to her implicitly as a result of her tender age or provincial upbringing. Yet when opportunity arrives in the persona of the lecherous Guillot, Manon quickly learns how to thwart the man at his own game and to pursue her own pleasure at his expense – she uses his carriage as the vehicle for her escape with Des Grieux. Such action would be difficult to translate to the stage in a spoken drama, and it is Massenet’s enduring music that makes this sometimes extraordinary narrative work well.

As Manon, the internationally acclaimed French soprano Natalie Dessay revealed character flawlessly -using the somewhat draping costume designated for Manon in the first act, to convey her youthfulness but with understatement at the core of this part of the work. The only weakness in the libretto and this production is the speed of the attraction that brings Des Grieux and Manon together. Taken literally, the libretto moves to this point all too quickly, and the music helps to bring some proper pacing to the scene. Even so, McVicar’s production, originally conceived for English National Opera, does not always allow for sufficient eye contact or preliminaries to make this work well. Manon and Des Grieux must express the bond that allows their relationship to withstand the fickleness of the courtesan’s vain pursuits. Dessay gave a sense of conflicting emotions by appearing distracted in the second act as Des Grieux expresses his dream to Manon. Yet her reverie about her affair with Des Grieux, with its repeated references to their “petite table,” conveyed a sense that the infatuation has grown into something more lasting, even though the mood is quickly interrupted by Des Grieux’s sudden and jarring abduction.

Likewise, Dessay gave the Manon’s third-act entrance “Je marche sur tous les chemins” the appropriate bravura, and if her character was somewhat restrained earlier in the work, she was overtly confident in this scene. With the famous gavotte (“Obéissons quand leur voix appelle”) which follows, Manon expresses her outward purpose in life in the opera’s most famous number. The audience responded perhaps too well to this scene, which often elicits applause while the piece continues. Here, Dessay was in her element: she describes herself as a singing actress, after all.

This characterization was well matched well by the German tenor Jonas Kaufmann’s Des Grieux. If he was somewhat tentative in the first act, he was very convincing in the second act and even more impressive in the third, where the second scene requires him to match Manon’s intensity and yet resist it passionately. Massenet’s Des Grieux is a demanding role, with sustained passages in both the lower and upper registers, and Kaufmann commanded the role very capably. At the end, Des Grieux duet with Manon becomes the soliloquy with which the opera ends, like the narrator’s voice at the end of the Prévost’s novel.

Along with these two principals, David Cangelosi brought consistency to the role of the vengeful Guillot, whose scorn brings about the fall of the Manon and Des Grieux. Adept at character roles at Lyric Opera and elsewhere, Cangelosi made Guillot come to life fully within the idiom of this work. As Manon’s cousin, Christopher Feigum offered a fine portrayal of Lescaut, who is also seduced by the attractions of Paris. The young American baritone was vocally solid in this important role in this work.

These and the other singers involved were part of David McVicar’s innovative staging that brought a self-referential design to the set. The tiers of seats backstage allowed for a convenient space for the chorus, dancers, and supernumeraries to enter and exit easily. This element worked smoothly in the first and third acts, but was disconcerting in the more intimate setting of the second. McVicar’s production also introduces Hogarth-like details into the bigger scenes, with the elements of lowlife depicted in visual counterpoint to the action among the principal characters. This sometimes drew attention away from the deserving characters of the younger and elder Des Grieux, as well as from Manon, whose persona needs to dominate the stage. The conductor Emmanuel Villaume allowed the orchestra to overbalance the voices at times but for the most part Villaume brought a sense of musical continuity to the score, which also involved explicit ballet scenes to enhance the production. The innovative use of movement went beyond the sometimes perfunctory inclusion of dance, and suggested, too, that other productions could usefully involve dancers, given the rhythms that pervade the score.

All in all, this production was a fine way to open the new season. McVicar’s innovative production provided an opportunity to see and hear Manon with fresh eyes and ears and the charms and emotions of Massenet’s fine score made an inviting introduction to the rest of 2008/9.

Reprinted with permission from Seen and Heard – Music Web’s Live Opera, Concert and Recital Reviews

Seattle Opera Young Artists Program, soloists, members of the Auburn Symphony, cond. Brian Garman, dir. Peter Kazaras; Meydenbauer Center, Bellevue, WA, 6.4.2008 (BJ)

Cast for L’Enfant et les sortilèges – Picture © Rozarii Lynch

I should have had more faith. The prospect of Ravel’s masterpiece of enchanted childhood set, not in a room and garden, but in a subway station was the reverse of alluring. How could it possibly achieve the ravishing effect of the transformation from room to garden, which I shall never forget from the first time I ever saw the piece staged, fully half a century ago, by the Oxford University Opera Society?

Well, Peter Kazaras, artistic director of Seattle Opera’s Young Artists Program, has worked magic before–in last season’s Falstaff, most notably – and he worked it again in this wonderful production. Eschewing the more obvious enchantments of Colette’s libretto, to focus instead on the surreal qualities of the story, he made L’Enfant more universal than ever, liberating it, as it were, from the outward trappings of one particular French-bourgeois context. The customary nursery-age infant was replaced by a rebellious teenager, and the putative animals by humans with mildly animal characteristics. It was the kind of directorial intervention that I usually find counter-productive. But Kazaras, it’s no exaggeration to say, is a genius of a director, and when he does it, it works.

A particular plus was provided by the fluid movements designed by Wade Madsen, always to the dramatic point, and often boldly athletic; Marcus Shelton’s Frog managed some especially daring leaps. And on Yoshi Tanokura’s set – like the production itself, allusive rather than literal, and atmospherically lit by Connie Yun – the program’s multi-talented young cast excelled both dramatically and musically. In the line-up I saw (the singers almost all swapped roles from one of the six performances to the next), David Korn starred as the Child, but this time I really do have to refrain from singling out any of the others, because a mere list of names would not do justice to the consistent conviction and brio of all the participants.

Cast for Gianni Schicchi – Picture © Rozarii Lynch

After intermission, Gianni Schicchi was no less delightful. Here designer Tanokura offered, in partnership with Daniel Urlie’s stylish and witty costumes, a more traditional stage picture. There were a few mischievous touches, such as the large-screen television set on which the squabbling Donati clan watched a football match, their raucous reactions reminding us that, with all their ancient culture, Italians can be as silly as the next nation. There was just enough stylized exaggeration in the cast’s gestures to bring out the satirical nature of the plot, without making too big a deal of it, so that when Ani Maldjian, as Lauretta, launched her seductive performance of O mio babbino caro, the lyrical beauty of the moment did not seem in any way incongruous. Another fine vocal contribution came from Marcus Shelton, this time in the un-froglike role of the ardent young lover Rinuccio, Leena Chopra was eye-catching as the shapeliest of vamps, and Joshua Jeremiah projected just the right combination of authority, humor, and slyness as Gianni.

Brian Garman’s conducting throughout the afternoon was highly skillful, and he drew some gleaming sounds from the string section, drawn from the Auburn Symphony, in Ettore Panizza’s orchestral reduction of the Puccini score. The Ravel did lose something of its allure by being heard in Didier Puntos’s chamber arrangement – the evocative orchestral writing of the original version was especially missed in that transformation scene – but flutist Alicia Suárez, cellist Virginia Dziekonski, and duo-pianists David McDade and Eve Legault played it with considerable artistry. And I should not wish my last words to be negative, in saluting an operatic double-bill that in every other respect was indeed both enchanting and, at the right moments, hilarious.