Two results of the school’s newfound glory are more full-time vocal scholarships – leading to better vocal training – and high quality productions, as evidenced by the operas Roe has produced beginning in 2006 with Mark Adamo’s Little Women and continuing with Kirke Mechem’s Tartuffe in 2007. Both were well received and important steps in Roe’s long-range plan to present contemporary opera in English. Even bigger artistic successes were Benjamin Britten’s Rape of Lucretia and Robert Ward’s The Crucible in 2008 and 2009.

Another reason for the program’s artistic advancement has been Roe’s collaboration with Thomas Cockrell, the Orchestral Director of the University of Arizona’s Symphony. Their dedication has shown that the Opera Theater can produce works of the highest musical and dramatic caliber and is ready to compete with the best university opera programs around the United States.

But a successful opera program has to be able to offer its students a well-rounded musical education, and Roe’s answer to that was this April’s production of Domenico Cimarosa’s exuberant and melodically-inventive opera buffa, Il matrimonio segreto from 1792. The opera is in Italian and the six roles are double cast. “Our students are going out into an opera world that expects them to sing in other languages besides English,” Roe said, “and double casting gives more students an opportunity to perform, which is basic to their training.” And what about the 2010-11 season? The only commitment Roe made is that both he and Cockrell will continue with their opera-in-English program. Sounds like the future of their opera program is in good hands.

Except for the role of Orfeo, all the singers were Italian which added to the wonderful elocution and heartfelt expression so abundant in Striggio’s classically limned text. The performance seemed to roll on effortlessly, buoyed by the clean yet passionate instrumental harmony that is one of the many facets of Monteverdi’s genius.

The opera’s simple story line is culled from Ovid’s Metamorphoses and tells of Orpheus and his descent into the underworld to return his beloved Eurydice to life after she has been bitten by a poisonous snake and died. Orpheus, however, is warned by Plutone, lord of the underworld, not to look at Eurydice on their return journey back to earth. But Orpheus is overcome by the strength of his love for Eurydice and turns to look at her and loses her again. The god Apollo appears to Orpheus and takes him to heaven so that he can be reunited with his beloved.

This classic story easily fit into the intimate picture director Robert Wilson wanted to portray on stage. The set consisted of a row of Cypress trees on stage right and left. The costumes were mostly gray and off-whites for the shepherds and the dancing nymphs. For contrast, costumer Jacques Reynaud dressed Music in gold, Orfeo and Eurydice in black, Hope in dark blue, and Apollo in a deep red. Wilson kept the staging and lighting focused on the singers.

Because of Wilson’s approach, the telecast proved far more effective than the actual performance in the house. When the camera surveyed La Scala’s large auditorium and the orchestra pit and then moved back to the performers on stage, the contrast, between the video director’s close-ups and leisurely panning shots with the full-house shots, clearly favored Wilson’s intent. This also complemented Monteverdi’s solo song accompaniment called monody that Alessandrini conducted with graceful and precise tempi.

All this led to an exquisite vocal refinement in the delivery of the text. Whatever dramatic expression was needed – plaintive, joyful, or purposeful story-telling, the cast encompassed it all.

Sopranos Roberta Invernizzi and Sara Mingardo are well-known in opera circles for their baroque and early baroque roles. Both Invernizzi, as Music, who introduces the opera, and as Eurydice, and Mingardo, as the Messenger who brings the news of Eurydice’s death to Orfeo, and then as Hope who accompanies him to the entrance to the underworld, interpreted their roles combining accurate intonation and excellent textual delivery.

Mezzo-soprano Raffaella Milanesi established an immediate emotional connection with Proserpine as she pleaded with Plutone to save Eurydice. Luigi De Donato’s terse vocals as Charon clearly showed his displeasure with Orfeo’s journey to find Eurydice, and Furio Zanasi’s Apollo related his joyful news that Orfeo will be reunited with Eurydice with vocal poise. Luca Dordolo, Leonardo Cortellazzi, and Martin Oro as the three shepherds brought great vocal style to their on-going comments about Orfeo’s journey.

While Georg Nigi’s vocal production did not match the innate warmth of the rest of the cast, his stage presence and vocal execution brought a touching nobility to Orfeo’s realization of his fatal error and then his salvation.

Audience consensus acknowledged the singing as the outstanding feature of the performance.

Seattle Opera, soloists, cond. Riccardo Frizza, dir. Peter Kazaras, set designer Donald Eastman, costume designer Anna Björnsdotter, lighting designer Connie Yun, Marion Oliver McCaw Hall, Seattle, 27 & 28.2.2010 (BJ)

There are opera productions that are faithful to the spirit of the work, yet tell us nothing about it that we didn’t already know. Then there are those, regrettably often these days, that rank the directorial quest for “originality” before anything composer and librettist may have had in mind. Peter Kazaras’s genius (a word I do not use lightly) is to employ genuinely original–even seemingly outrageous–ideas to set the true message of an opera before us in a new and utterly arresting light.

On a couple of occasions in the past, the conceptions he brought to bear in his productions for Seattle Opera’s Young Artists Program (of which he is artistic director) have aroused my scepticism in advance and ended–in a L’Enfant et les sortilèges set in a railroad station, and again in a Midsummer Night’s Dream set in an English boarding school–by convincing me completely.

After being transferred to the main stage from the small theater where the Young Artists first presented it three years ago, what this brilliant Falstaff did, most radically but not only by means of an inspired “pre-show show,” was to lay the scope of Verdi’s last opera bare by eradicating the distinctions that can too easily obscure it: the distinction between before, during, and after, or act and intermission; between on-stage and offstage; between us the audience and them the performers; between play-acting and reality. Throughout, imagination trumped literalism–witness the assemblage of chairs that served as Herne’s Oak in the last act. One tiny but contributory touch: the besom Falstaff waved to chase his venal followers away in Act One reappeared in the intermission when a stagehand swept the stage with it.. Meanwhile, a production-crew member traversed the scene, consulting her notes, which further helped the cause of dramatic seamlessness.

Coming into the theater, if we were lucky or wise enough to arrive early, we found a set, designed by Donald Eastman and masterfully lit by Connie Yun, evocative of the Globe Theatre, where Shakespeare’s plays were first seen. Here, in full view amid a variety of utilitarian furnishings, the singers are preparing for their roles, putting on their costumes (by Anna Björnsdotter) to the accompaniment of an unexpected sound-track in today’s pop styles. They exchange greetings and embraces, take photographs, send messages on cell phones. The company’s general director, Speight Jenkins, strolls across the stage with his dog to welcome his artists. And three hours later, when, for the opera’s denouement in that vertiginous final fugue, the characters all started taking their costumes off again, to stand revealed as the motley crew of ordinary personages we had seen at the start, the point of Kazaras’s conception stood triumphantly revealed. I was forcibly reminded of that touching moment towards the end of Laurence Olivier’s Henry V film when the scene reverted from Agincourt to the Globe, and the actors shed their movie make-up, and Kate stood revealed, not as a graceful French princess, but as a gauchely grinning boy player.

I hope the individual singers will forgive me for relegating them to secondary discussion, but really this is a compliment, for in the performance that followed, everything we saw and heard triumphantly served Verdi’s, his librettist Boito’s, and their translator Kazaras’s vision, assisted by spectacular orchestral playing under Riccardo Frizza’s baton and a customarily fine contribution in the last act by Beth Kirchhoff’s chorus.

But of course the singers’ various achievements should be saluted. Peter Rose, in his first-ever appearance as Falstaff, unfurled a voice of dimensions as sumptuous as his girth, and his characterization too was larger than life and supremely human. In the second cast, Eduardo Chama, though not quite as commanding in bodily and vocal stature, presented an appealing portrayal of the fat knight. Svetla Vassileva’s lissome Alice and Weston Hurt’s dangerous Ford, in the first cast, were nearly equaled, in the second, by Sally Wolf and David Won, though the latter looked a bit young for a Ford. The smaller roles were all well taken. Anya Matanovic and Blagoj Nacoski made a winsome pair of young lovers. And Stephanie Blythe is simply the best Dame Quickly in the world. From Rossini’s Italian girl, by way of Wagner’s Fricka and Waltraute, to Verdi’s Amneris and Quickly, she can do nothing wrong. The acting is exemplary, the voice is in its sumptuous prime, and altogether it seems to me that she has triumphantly succeeded to the mantle of Marilyn Horne, whose great achievements she may even be reckoned to have surpassed.

When Messiah was described as “an entertainment,” Handel responded, “I should be sorry if I only entertained them–I wish to make them better.” That indeed, in addition to entertainment, is among the chief purposes of all worthwhile art, and this production, from my point of view, fulfilled it. I can’t promise that the effect won’t wear off in time. But on my way home from the theater, I saw people on the street whose dress, for example, might earlier have made a curmudgeon like me grimace–and found myself smiling at them.

We are all human beings together, Falstaff tells us, and “he who laughs last laughs best.” Anyone living within reach of Seattle that didn’t see this Falstaff threw away the chance of a wonderfully entertaining evening in the theater, and of learning important things about art, life, and himself. The world feels like a better place afterwards.

Soloists, Metropolitan Opera chorus and orchestra , cond. Riccardo Muti, dir. Pierre Audi, set and costume designers Miuccia Prada, Herzog & de Meuron, lighting designer Jean Kalman, Metropolitan Opera, New York, 23.2.2010 (BJ)

Under the baton of Riccardo Muti, making his long-overdue debut at the house to a reception of vociferous and richly deserved ovations, Verdi’s Attila received its premiere performance at the Metropolitan Oratorio in February. Oops! I mean the Metropolitan Opera, but you would not have thought so, given the perversely statuesque and undramatic nature of the production.

When I first heard that Pierre Audi was going to be responsible for the staging I was immediately worried. The Lebanese-born director is a man of impressive intellect. He has done invaluable work in raising the profile of the Netherlands Opera, but the actual productions of his that I have seen there have tended to place directorial “originality” well above the demands of the opera being directed. (The earliest I have ever walked out of a production was at his Così fan tutte, after an overture embellished with a naked woman reclining on a chaise longue. I am as partial as anyone to the sight of a naked woman, but there is a time and a place for everything.)

Audi’s Attila, by contrast, is blessedly free from adventitious vulgarity. On the other hand, it demolished the impact of an early but by no means negligible Verdi opera by presenting it almost in the manner of an oratorio. The set consisted, in the prologue, of an array of debris, huge blocks of broken masonry, supposedly to represent the remains of the sacked city of Aquileia. After this, there was just one set representing “the forest”: a proscenium-high depiction of lush vegetation. A couple of holes were punched in this, relatively high above the stage, to provide the characters with a locale for their arias; in one of them, someone had thoughtfully placed what looked like a piano stool so that Ezio, the Roman general, didn’t have to stand all through his big scene. Every now and then, first with the debris and then with the forest, the main set would rise, providing a featureless slot at the bottom to accommodate the chorus. Its members, roughly a hundred of them, were marshaled in three rows, just as on a concert platform, and were dressed in a variety of schmattas–Miuccia Prada schmattas admittedly, but schmattas nevertheless.

To the extent that it was possible, Muti and his forces rescued the opera with a musical performance of fantastic beauty, virtuosity, élan, and refinement. The Met orchestra can rarely have played with such stylistic aptness, ravishing tone, and pinpoint ensemble. The choral singing was as excellent as the choral acting was non-existent. There is no need to discuss the solo singers’ dramatic achievements, since they were given no opportunity to act or to interact. But this was a cast of phenomenal vocal power and artistry.

In the title role, the Russian bass Ildar Abdrazakov magnificently fulfilled the expectations I had of him after his sumptuous and supremely intelligent contribution to the Verdi Requiem Muti conducted in Chicago at his inaugural appearance as music director designate in Chicago a year ago. As Odabella, Violeta Urmana sang with a welcome willingness to take risks–I would prefer a thousandfold such thrilling vocal flights to mere safety: the voice was projected with a compelling intensity, largely overcoming the pervasive dramatic nullity of the production. As her Aquileian lover, Foresto, Ramón Vargas unfurled a tenor voice of attractive timbre and impressive consistency throughout the range. Ezio was supposed to be sung by Carlos Alvarez, but on his withdrawal due to illness Giovanni Meoni took over at very short notice, and seized the opportunity afforded by his Met debut with a rich-toned and finely phrased performance.

To paraphrase what some unidentified sage once said, there are no small roles, only small singers. It was exciting to witness Samuel Ramey, the magnificent Attila in Muti’s 1989 recording of the opera, showing that, even with now somewhat reduced vocal resources, he can still craft a dignified and authoritative portrayal of the Roman bishop Leone. And as Attila’s slave Uldino, Russell Thomas did competently everything that Verdi and librettist Temistocle Solera asked of him.

After the final curtain, the contrast between the roars of approval that greeted the conductor when he took his bow and the seemingly unanimous booing that greeted the director showed–whatever view you take of booing–where the values of this musically inspired and dramatically inept performance lay. It is to be hoped, now that the ice is broken, that Riccardo Muti will return to the Met in a happier context, and that Attila will not have to wait another 164 years to be properly staged there.

Production Picture © Javier del Real

Among the ten operas by Umberto Giordano, Andrea Chenier is number one in the popularity stakes but it’s one of those curious things that while Chenier always had the appreciation of opera-goers, musicologists have never showed it much enthusiasm. With precious few exceptions this is something of a pattern in Verismo. The major exception is Puccini whose attachment to so-called Verismo is more than debatable.

Andrea Chenier’s following among opera-lovers has not been matched by interest from artistic directors. Take Madrid for example: Chenier has not put in an appearance in the last 25 years. In this regard it is interesting to read the Giancarlo del Monaco interview in the programme, where he talks of his experience in the 1950s at La Scala with a double cast: Mario del Monaco and Maria Callas, on the one hand, and Franco Corelli with Renata Tebaldi, on the other. “Tal dei tempi è il costume ” (Carlo Gerard dixit).

The production comes from the Opéra National de Paris, where it was premiered last December. Giancarlo del Monaco’s reading stays absolutely faithful to the libretto which specifies perfectly where and when the action takes place. The sets are spectacular in the scene in the Countess’s mansion. They show a very rich Rococo salon with a small theatre at the back of the stage. The trial scene is truly spectacular. There are excellent costumes, especially in the first scene with hosts and guests suitably bewigged. Lighting is a good complement to the production.

Everything compares favourably with what happened a few days back with Un Ballo in Maschera in Bilbao, where the production took a similar line but to lesser effect. The stage direction of Giancarlo del Monaco is quite good with an excellent sense of mass movement and very good attention to detail.

It was interesting to see the killing of Bersi by Il Incredibile on stage at the end of Act II, or the old Madelon and her grandson walking with the mob in the same act. It’s a brilliant production, and the audience was obviously pleased. Its biggest drawback is that the change of sets demands very long intermissions. Andrea Chenier has about two hours of music but the evening ran to three hours and 15 minutes. According to my information this was not the case at Paris Bastille.

It was a surprise to see Victor Pablo Perez announced as conductor, since I cannot recall any previous experience of him in verismo. He drew an excellent performance from the orchestra. His reading was better than merely score-correct though there were some problems with excessive volume, particularly in the second act. That was more evident in the first cast.

We all know that the key for Andrea Chenier is to have three great voices, which today are almost impossible to find. It is not easy to offer something better than what we got, although unfortunately there were some mishaps. The performance of Argentinean tenor Marcelo Alvarez as protagonist was in doubt up to the last minute due to illness. His substitute was by Jorge de Leon who is reported to have brought off major triumphs elsewhere, according to most reviewers. Alvarez did however attend in the end.

Alvarez’s Chenier first saw light of day last December in Paris in this same production. He has one of the most beautiful tenor voices around and is a great singer, very expressive and with perfect Italian diction. He is one of those rare singers who leaves you understanding every single word. His eminently lyric voice is not what one immediately expects of a Chenier. His Chenier leans more towards Gigli than Del Monaco or Corelli, or even Domingo or Carreras. After a bright first half with an excellent Improvviso and a beautiful “Possanza Arcana”, followed by a very good duet with Maddalena, his performance suffered a little either because he was not fully recovered or because the role is too heavy for him. He was good though not at his best, in “Sì, fui soldato”, and rather disappointing in “Come un bel dì di Maggio”. I prefer a more spinto voice over a lyric one, although it is always a pleasure to watch a true singer in the part. And Marcelo Alvarez is a great singer.

In the alternative cast the protagonist was Fabio Armiliato. There is no question but that he is one of the best Cheniers of recent years. He sang the Improvviso with his customary generosity although the voice did not evince quite the brightness of previous occasions. Singing “Credo in una possanza arcane” he almost lost his voice. He finished his duet with Maddalena as best he could and left everyone wondering whether he would be able to continue. However he sang the rest of the opera, with the voice back, at least partially, although he was in serious trouble more than once. I don’t know what happened to him, but it is the second time that I have witnessed the same problem after his Improvviso; the first occasion was in a concert in San Sebastian, August 2009. What happened to him? I don’t know, but I can assure you that there were no signs of vocal problems when the opera started.

Fiorenza Cedolins was not a convincing Maddalena di Coigny. The character is too heavy for her today, showing up inequalities of register and a voice too small for the role’s demands. Technically she is much better than proficient, but sadly she did not move me at all. The signs for the future are not good. Daniela Dessì was the alternate Maddalena. Her middle register has widened of late and she is now well suited to the character. Her bel canto extraction is always present in her singing and only the top of her register is below par. Even so, she was excellent in “La Mamma morta”.

Marco Vratogna was Carlo Gerard who offered his well known virtues and defects. Among the first it should be noted that his voice is well suited to the role. He’s a dramatic baritone singing always with unwavering concentration. Among his flaws, the biggest is that the voice is mediocre and not really up to the demands of a prestige opera-house. Marco Di Felice is a good baritone who can work in more lyrical roles; here he is too light. His voice lacks the requisite volume and colour. He ends up straining for effect. Roberto Frontali was his substitute but he is also a rather flawed Gerard.

The supporting roles were very well covered. The best among these was Larissa Diadkova as Madelón, a real luxury. Marina Rodríguez-Cusí made a correct Bersí, rather tight in the upper register. Felipe Bou was a good Roucher. Veteran mezzo-soprano Stefania Toczyska proved a good Countess di Coigny. Carlo Bosi was a better than competent singing actor as Incredibile. Luis Cansino offered a powerful and very pleasant voice as Mathieu and he looks to have a bright future.

There was a full house for both days. At the final bows the biggest ovations were for Álvarez. Both Maddalenas were warmly received, particularly Dessì but Armilato had to put up with some isolated booing. Víctor Pablo Pérez had a mixed reception on the first night, while there was no booing the second evening.

Production: Opéra National de Paris.

Direction: Giancarlo del Monaco.

Sets: Carlo Centolavigna.

Costumes: María Filippi.

Lighting: Wolfgang Von Zoubek.

Casts:

Andrea Chenier: Marcelo Álvarez/Fabio Armiliato.

Maddalena di Coigny: Fiorenza Cedolins/Daniela Dessì.

Carlo Gerard: Marco Vratogna/Marco di Felice.

Bersi: Marina Rodríguez-Cusí.

Madelon: Larissa Diadkova.

L’Incredibile: Carlo Bosi.

Roucher: Felipe Bou.

Contesa di Coigny: Stefania Toczyska.

Mathieu: Luis Cansino.

Fleville/Fouquier-Tinville: Marco Moncloa.

L’Abate: Ángel Rodríguez.

Schmidt: Karoly Szemeredy.

Majordomo: Pablo García.

Dumas: Tomeu Bibiloni.

Seattle Opera, soloists, cond. Yves Abel, dir. José Maria Condemi, set designer Allen Moyer, costume designer John Conklin, lighting designer Thomas Hase, Marion Oliver McCaw Hall, Seattle, 16 and 24.1.2010 (BJ)

Music trumped drama in Seattle Opera’s new Trovatore, partly because vocal and orchestral values were so strong, but partly also on account of some idiosyncracies in the staging.

Let me first discuss those strengths. In the customary Seattle set-up of double casts, the eight singers in the four principal roles were for the most part immensely impressive. On opening night, Lisa Daltirus’s Leonora and Antonello Palombi’s Manrico made a compelling pair of lovers. Daltirus is a riveting actress, and aside from one or two moments of questionable intonation she sang superbly, with especially impressive pianissimos in the highest register. Palombi has one of the most easeful and luxuriant tenor voices I have heard lately, though above the stave it becomes a trifle pinched. It was a pity that at the end of an otherwise thrilling Di quella pira he did not heed Verdi’s comment, “If they’re going to add a C, let it be a good C.” His interpolated high note reminded me of George Bernard Shaw’s description of the famous 19th-century tenor Tamberlik as “a mere creaking wreck, whose boasted ut de poitrine [C from the chest] was an eldritch screech which might just as well have been aimed an octave higher.” In the second cast, Anthony Rawls committed the same sin, and I found his voice somewhat lacking in richness and timbral variety in comparison with Palombi’s, while Mary Elizabeth Williams displayed impressive vocal resources, without quite matching Daltirus’s vocal and dramatic intensity.

As Count di Luna in the first cast Gordon Hawkins, whose baritone I have in the past described as ‘honeyed,” was as fluent as ever, crafting an Il balen of telling nuances, with superbly controlled dynamics on the last note. His counterpart in the second cast was Todd Thomas, an equally accomplished performer: his tone is perhaps more cleanly focused, and he was even more convincing in delineating the inner torments of this basically unsavory character. It was in the role of Azucena that the biggest disparity between the two performers made itself felt. After her stunning Judith in last season’s Bluebeard’s Castle, Malgorzata Walewska’s Azucena came as something of a disappointment, fluently sung, but without the element of mezzo- or even alto-ish darkness that is surely essential to the part. Mary Phillips was much more convincing in sound, and surprisingly also in dramatic terms.

At both the performances I witnessed, Vira Slywotzky and Leodigario del Rosario offered strong portrayals of Inez and Ruiz, and Arthur Woodley’s Ferrando was exemplary both in vocal command and acting skills. What with excellent orchestral playing under Yves Abel’s baton, and the customarily powerful contribution from Beth Kirchhoff’s chorus, what we heard would have added up to a totally convincing Trovatore had it not been for some oddities in what we were given to look at.

The Minnesota Opera’s sets, designed by Allen Moyer, offered fragments of some antique-looking buildings, sitting at precarious angles. This would have been acceptable enough, but certain touches of whimsy seemed to me regrettable. It’s fair enough to put a big disc of light on the backdrop to represent the moon. But when a brightly illuminated cross then appeared next to it in the sky, the effect was a tad ridiculous, evoking the image of a rudimentary sketch for a game of noughts and crosses (“tic-tac-toe” to American readers).

To be more serious, though, it was director José Maria Condemi’s marshaling of characters on stage that I found the most puzzling. In their Part 1 scena, Leonora and Inez conducted their intimate conversation between one end of the stage and the back of the other. When Azucena, in Part 3, railed against the wickedness of her tormentors, I am not sure whom to blame for Ms. Malgorzata’s addressing her words not to di Luna but directly to Ferrando, because Ms. Phillips, when her turn came, correctly remembered who it was she was speaking to. And yes, di Luna is certainly a bad guy, but I can find no warrant in the score or the stage directions for Condemi’s notion of bringing him on stage one scene early in Part 3 to be portrayed as a sort of catatonic drunkard.

There were, to be sure, elements in Condemi’s staging that were simple and strong. John Conklin’s costumes were unobtrusively appropriate. I particularly enjoyed the enlivening of the first scene in Part 3 with deft swordplay, executed by four chorus members skillfully directed by Geoffrey Alm and Matthew Orme. If everything had been as straightforward and effective as this, I could have called the production a Trovatore of the highest class. And even with those perverse moments, the acting of all the principals–and on opening night the sheer dramatic and vocal allure, above all, of Lisa Daltirus and Antonello Palombi–carried sufficient conviction to overturn any misgivings pedants may have about the stature of an opera that is not Verdi’s most subtle, but is among his most gut-wrenchingly human.

On my way to Valencia I was wondering how I would handle the transition from the Barcelona Tristan to Lucia in just three days. The jump from one opera to the other is not an easy one, unless you see in the Donizetti two protagonists as exceptional as those in Tristan, rather a scarcity in the world of opera today. In Valencia we were offred a number of positive elements that should have been able to give us a good performance of Lucia di Lammermoor, but there were not enough to make my leap successful.

I don’t know if the current economic crisis is the reason for shaking the dust out of old and successful productions, but the fact is that, following a 23 years old production of Tristan at Liceu on Saturday, in Valencia we had a production of Lucia which was premiered in 1996. It is this production that we saw at Teatro Real in November 2001, as vehicle for Edita Gruberova (alternating with Maria José Moreno) as the protagonist. The production is quite attractive to the eye but is not too brilliant in terms of direction, which is quite amazing considering that the production has the signature of Graham Vick on it. A floor covered with flowers and herbs and with looming dead trees is a constant in Act I, the mad scene, and the supposed cemetery of Ravenswood and all that changes is the cyclorama at the back of the stage, showing dark clouds. Interior scenes are shown by means of the movement of two dark panels that run through the middle of the stage. The costumes are attractive and place the action at the end of 18th century, while only some tartan bands give us the idea of Scotland and not Versailles. An attractive production, but not among Graham Vick’s finest.

Karel Mark Chichon was in charge of the musical direction and he was rather uneven. It is not easy to conduct a belcanto opera unless one is a consummate specialist in this repertoire, because there should be a good balance between purely musical direction and the support to the singers, who are the real protagonists of this kind of opera. Mr. Chichon’s reading was truly dramatic from the prelude onwards, which is not very surprising, when you have at your command an outstanding orchestra like Valencia’s. But there were also many moments where the voices were drowned by the sound coming from the pit. Tempi were somewhat erratic, moving easily from too slow to too fast, although his work was very careful and meticulous and he controlled perfectly both stage and pit. It should be noted that he offered the most complete version of the opera, including the anti-climactic recitative that puts an end to the Mad Scene which is, in my opinion, better cut.

Lucia was the Georgian soprano Nino Machaidze, who has jumped to stardom in the past two years. This soprano has the qualities required today in opera: a pleasant voice, youth, physical beauty and interpretive skills. Her voice is a light-lyric soprano, with a darker timbre in the centre than is usual in her Latin colleagues. Her instrument is not that beautiful, although it gets brighter going upward albeit with some limits. She has a good coloratura and she is a good actress. However, I found her performance somewhat mechanical, short of emotion and certainly far from the great Lucias still remembered by all opera lovers. To my great surprise she avoided the stratospheric notes at the end of the mad aria and the following cabaletta, losing a good part of the impact that a great Lucia should make on the audience.

Edgardo was the Italian tenor Francesco Meli, a true belcanto singer. His were the best vocal moments that we had in this performance. It is a pity that this excellent singer has too tight a top register, which is surprising for a light voice like his. He took refuge in falsetto at the end of his duet with Lucia, avoided the high C at the end of the Sextet and he was in difficulties at the end of “Tombe degli avi miei” and was on the verge of an accident in “Bel alma inamorata”. It is a pity to find these shortcomings in such an outstanding singer.

Vladimir Stoyanov passed without particularl pain or glory through Enrico. It seems that his best is already over. He has lost a good deal of voice projection at the top, which was problematic in the past, but his middle register is weaker than before.

The Brazilian bass Diogenes Randes was a good Raimondo, without excessive vocal brilliance. The voice has a certain weight and authority, but falls short at both ends of the tessitura. Angelo Antonio Poli was a very good Arturo, a good singer with a pleasant voice.

There was a full house again. At the final bows the winners were Meli and Machaidze, particularly the tenor.

Cast:

Lucia: Nino Machaidze.

Edgardo: Grancesco Meli.

Enrico: Vladimir Stoyanov.

Raimondo: Diógenes Randes.

Arturo: Angelo Antonio Poli.

Normanno: Enrico Cossutta.

Alisa: Natalia Lunar.

After the brilliant performance of Ariodante last December, Oviedo finished its opera season with a greyish kind of tone from a Simon Boccanegra that left much to be desired.

Coming from the Santa Fe Festival with stage direction by Stefano Vizioli, discovering what the interest in this production is supposed to be, was a mystery to me. It was premiered in the summer of 2004 and has never again been revived -a fact which, now that I have seen it, seems distinctly less than a surprising. This is really a very poor production, unworthy of an opera house as important as Oviedo.

The staging consists of side walls, with one added at the back which opens to give a view of the sea, and also serves as an entrance for the Council Scene. A revolving section in the middle of the stage is where the supposed action takes place. The costumes are as poor as the sets and the lighting is also unexceptional. With all this disappointment, only really exceptional stage direction could catch the interest of the audience, but Stefano Vizioli did not achieve that either. The chorus and extras were static and the major roles were all directed with similar lack of stimulus. It is hard to imagine that the fight at the beginning of the last act could have been any worse. In short, this was an unacceptably poor production altogether.

Daniele Callegari was a safe and effective conductor and of the three aspects that form an opera – scenic, musical and vocal – it was the music which came out best in this performance. I don’t know if the Orchestra has improved much during the last year, under the baton of its musical director Friedrich Haider, or if the hand of Callegari deserves the credit, but I found the orchestra better than ever before and it was one the best performances I have attended from the always reliable Maestro Callegari.

Some people may think that the cancellation of Carlos Álvarez as the protagonist of the opera must have had serious consequences for the development of the performance, but this was not the case, since the new Simon Boccanegra was the very acceptable Marco Di Felice, a good baritone, although his voice has not quite the amplitude that the Doge needs. His interpretation of the role was fairly routine, but that was also partly due to the director.

The presence of the Ángeles Blancas as Amelia Grimaldi was a casting error to my way of thinking. This very interesting singer, of a rare intensity on stage, cannot cope with the vocal demands of this role. The top end of her voice can become quite unstable and the high notes are as yet too tight, resulting in shouting. She has not, and may never have I suspect, the powerful dramatic voice of her mother Angeles Gulan and I think it is not a good idea to emulate her in the Verdi repertoire. Ms Blanca will be singing Abigail in Zurich, which is in my opinion a mistake, since the role is out of her natural fach and might even damage her future career.

Ukrainian bass Vitalij Kowaljow was an effective Jacopo Fiesco. He repeated the good impression that he made a couple of years ago as Banco in Macbeth. The voice is not outstanding in timbre or amplitude, but he is nonetheless well suited to the demands of the character. The Albanian tenor Giuseppe Gipali has a pleasant and uniform voice along the tessitura, but was somewhat lacking in power, which made him inaudible in ensembles. His biggest problem lies in his huge lack of expressiveness as an interpreter as he is a kind of ‘old time tenor’, which means he enters the stage, stands still, produces notes and then leaves. There is a fifth important character in this opera, which is none other than the evil Paolo Albiani. On this occasion, his interpreter, Paolo Pecchioli, was too poor vocally to be acceptable.

There was a full house, as is usual in Oviedo but only tepid applause after Gabriele Adorno’s aria and at the final bows there was little more than politeness expressed to the artists with no cheers at all for any of them. The audience was more courteous than cold in their final reaction.

Lyric Opera of Chicago continues its 2009-2010 season with a masterful staging of Gaetano Donizetti’s L’elisir d’amore or The Elixir of Love, as it is billed. The revival of this venerable production is enhanced by an excellent cast, led by Lyric’s Ryan Opera Center alumna Nicole Cabell. The deft conducting of Bruno Campanella makes the familiar comedy flow beautifully on stage so that the opening night on 23 January was an exciting event, with Lyric’s audience enthusiastically responsive to the production.

The situation at the beginning of the opera is typical of many librettos, with the object of a young man’s desire hardly noticing him. In loving the much sought after Adina, Nemorino seems to aspire to a love beyond possibility. Much more the rustic than his rival, the polished soldier Belcore, Nemorino is too determined to be dissuaded and his single-mindedness leads him to be duped by the quack-doctor Dulcamara whose ‘infallible’ love potion is nothing more than Chianti wine. While the potion only causes Nemorino to become inebriated, Adina notes his absence when she is just about to wed Belcore, and ultimately realises that Nemorino is the devoted husband she actually desires. It is a simple plot which works convincingly simply because of its fine music.

To that end, the cast is admirable in giving the well-known numbers fresh and ardent readings. Tenor Giuseppe Filianotti made the opening number “Quanto è bella” vibrant ; and if his delivery seemed somewhat aggressive in this piece compared with some other singers, it still served the text well. Moreover, his sensitive and moving performance of “Una furtive lagrima” contained all the nuances many performers strive to bring off, but rarely achieve as admirably. Filianotti worked well with Nicole Cabell throughout their on-off-on again romance and was particularly effective in the duet “Chiedi all’aura lusinghiera.”

Nicole Cabell also gave a first rate performance as Adina. She displayed all her character’s necessary self-confidence – she’s rich and the most beautiful girl in the village after all – and made a particularly strong impression in the opening aria “Della crudele Isotta,” in which she recounts the story of Tristan and Isolde to her audience. Her vocal confidence was also very evident in “Chiede all’aura lusinghiera,” her duet with Filianotti and was even more notable in the later duet “Eulsti pur la Barbara.” Her ensemble work with the other principals was also solid, with her concluding aria “Il mio rigor dimentica” as fresh and emotionally resolved as anyone could hope. At times however, it was difficult to hear some of her lines, perhaps because of the sets which leave much of the large stage space vacant, but this also happened to Filianotti on occasions when he moved stage left.

As Nemorino’s rival Belcore, Gabriele Viviani gave a fine and engaging performance, and the clarity the baritone brought to his role was certainly appropriate to the opera’s style, with refreshingly fine rubato touches to “Come Paride vezzoso.” Belcore is supposed to ooze confident bravado, yet Viviani augmented this sometimes tiresome characteristic with constant alertness to the other actors on stage. The comic missteps of his soldiers resulted in stunned expressions of amazement which were always funny without becoming slapstick and at the conclusion of the opera Viviani’s Belcore was as ardent as Nemorino had been at the beginning – a nice reversal of situation for a man with a girl in every village, which added greatly to the appeal of this perennial comic opera.

The charlatan Dulcamara can sometimes be a thankless role, but Alessandro Corbelli brought long experience to it which made it seem almost afresh. Having played Belcore earlier in his career, Corbelli clearly knows L’elisir backwards, and all of his expertise was apparent in this production. His delivery was firm and appealing in Dulcamara’s scene with the villagers in the first act, “Udite udite, or ristici,” with a welcome fluidity that made the scene work easily. He also engaged beautifully with Cabell in the number they sing for the villagers at the planned nuptials, “Io son ricco e tu sei bella.” As familiar as that piece is, both Corbelli and Cabell brought it off more than stylishly.

Throughout the production Bruno Campanella led the orchestra admirably. The overture itself sounded fresh, with distinct rhythms and clear phrasing. The tempos in the overture set the tone for the fine delivery of the numbers that followed in the first act, and Campanella was equally impressive afterwards too. Comedy needs timing, and the challenge of L’elisir is the seamless combination of comic and lyrical sentiments. Almost unobtrusively, Campanella’s direction gave cast , chorus and orchestra the leadership that made all of this readily apparent, drawing the best from every member of this fine team. Likewise, Donald Nally had prepared his chorus impeccably, so that clear diction and crisp rhythms made the essential difference in conveying all of the text effectively to the audience.

This opera, familiar as it may be, is always welcome when it involves such a group of first-rate performers, and the enthusiasm they brought to opening night was outstanding. Even those who know L’elisir well might wish to see this production, with its fine cast and delightful settings and some of its subtleties will surely continue to intrigue even the cognoscenti – like the reference to Wagner’s Tristan during the exchange between Nemorino and Dulcamara about the recipe for Isotta’s love potion. While it is possible to find places where some balances might have been slightly awry or a line or two here and there, which other performers might have articulated differently, such quibbles remain minor ones. The audience at this premiere was enthusiastic, as demonstrated by its sustained applause for Filianotti, Cabell, Viviani, Corbelli and Campanella, and in fact for the entire company.

Production:
Stage Director:Vincent Liotta
Set and Costume Designer: Ulisse Santicchi
Lighting:Jason Brown
Chorus Master:Donald Nally
Conductor:Bruno Campanella

Cast:
Giannetta: Angela Mannino
Nemorino: Giuseppe Filianotti (Frank Lopardo 7 to 22 February)
Adina:Nicole Cabell (Susanna Phillips 7 to 22 February)
Belcore:Gabriele Viviani
Dulcamara:Alessandro Corbelli

Soloists, Bilbao Orkestra Sinfonikoa. Coro de Ópera de Bilbao. Conductor: Sir Mark Elder, Palacio Euskalduna de Bilbao. 16.1.2010 (JMI)

Ernani is one of the best Verdi operas from the so-called ‘years in the galleys’ so far as I am concerned, although it is a long time since it lost the favour of the big opera houses. Certainly its irregular libretto and its need of four truly great singers – no less than Trovatore – can explain some of this hardly justified oblivion but in the last 10 years the opportunities to enjoy this opera in decent conditions have been very few. I dare say in fact that only the United States has staged the work with more or less with great singers, the last of them this season in Chicago with Sondra Radvanovsky (to me the best Elvira today). Three years ago it was given at the Metropolitan with Radvanovsky again, accompanied by Giordani, Hampson and Furlanetto and before that at Carnegie Hall some 12 years ago – it appeared in a concert version with a surprising June Anderson as Elvira. Appearances of the title in Europe have also been very scarce, mostly in Italy and for the most part with rather mediocre casts, with the exception of Trieste some three years back. Sadly, this ABAO performance was closer to Italian mediocrity than to American splendour.

ABAO’s new production was directed by Michal Znaniecki from Poland. On paper, the selection couldn’t have been more fortunate, judging by his other operatic works in recent years, all characterized by good taste and respect for the music and singers. Unfortunately, this did not happen this time. The staging was dominated by a large gothic rose window partially raised, creating a stage with a slope of about 40 degrees. In these circumstances the movements by soloists, chorus and extras showed their worries about falling over all to clearly and adversely projected lots of extraneous noise into the theatre. The singers had to share their focus on singing wth concerns for physical security and to this I should add the fact that often Znaniecki made them sing from the top of the rose window, damaging projection of the voices – which otherwise only came into its own when the performers sang from the front of the stage. In these circumstances the direction of actors was fairly well impossible, not to mention the lack of mass direction, which was little better than a concert version. The drama of big scene of act III, with the company in the rose window and the Emperor placed behind them, was completely missed.

Sir Mark Elder was in charge of the musical side of the production and for any opera lover having such a prestigious conductor in the pit could be but nothing less than a cause for great satisfaction. He offered a complete version of the opera, always with huge respect to the score. Mark Elder is undoubtedly one of the most expert conductors of bel canto and and this was the first time I can remember a performance of Ernani with all the cabalettas duly repeated as they should be. Apart from his obvious respect for the score and his excellent ear for detail, his reading was always firm and secure, despite of the problems that the setting caused singers trying to follow his baton. In general his tempi tended to be a little slow, which could have been excellent with a better orchestra than Bilbao’s, which was not outstanding. The chorus showed their excellent adaptation to Italian opera in general and to Verdi in particular but they were also affected significantly by the production. In other circumstances, their performance – especially that of the men – could have been memorable.

The protagonist, the bandit Ernani or Don Juan of Aragon, was the Venezuelan tenor Aquiles Machado. The vocal development of this singer has turned out to be rather disappointing in recent years, to my mind. His voice has widened considerably, but he has developed a worrying vibrato in the upper register and his voice does not have quite the weight demanded by the role, although he was still acceptable however. Two months ago I heard him in Verdi’s Requiem and I found him better than expected and this time I had much the same impression. Ernani is not an ideal character for his vocal capacities, but he sings with very good taste, sensibly avoiding some of the high notes.

If we look back at the history of ABAO we can see that the most important character for them in this opera has always been the Emperor Don Carlos. Cappuccilli, Milnes, Bruson and Bastianini have all sung the role in Bilbao and to this list should be added an outstanding Paolo Gavanelli, when he was at his best. In this production the most important voice among the quartet of protagonists was the Serbian baritone Zeljko Lucic, one of the few true Verdi baritones around today. However, his performance was not entirely convincing because the character was not lived with the required intensity and there was an excessive tendency to singing forte. There were also some dubious pitch moments in the third Act, especially in his great pardoning scene. Having said this, if I am not mistaken this was his debut with the character – always a handicap, but particularly in the circumstances of this production.

The Greek soprano Dimitra Theosossiou was the weakest item in the casting and the least suited to the demands of her role. While this singer has always seemed to me an outstanding belcanto specialist, she loses some of her quality in the more dramatic repertoire. Elvira requires a spinto, even sometimes a dramatic soprano. The singer need a sonorous low register, which Ms Theodossiou lacks, and a very bright top, while hers was mostly rather shrill. Much the same thing happened to her some eight years ago at the Teatro Real in the same role and the situation has not improved. Without a doubt however, she was at her best in the last act, where she did prove that she is an excellent singer, although slightly too late.

Silva requires a powerful bass, like the role’s last interpreter in Bilbao, Roberto Scandiuzzi, who was at his best then. The Bulgarian Orlin Anastassov is more like a bass-baritone with a pleasant, voice that mixed some elegant singing with rather substandard vocal projection. So far he has not fulfilled the high expectations that he raised only a few years ago.

There was a full house, despite the fact that Real Madrid was playing just across street. There was no applause after any of the arias and at the final bows there was decidedly cool reception for the cast with no cheers for any of the artists with the biggest applause going to Anastassov and the smallest to Theodossiou. Sir Mark Elder, orchestra and chorus were warmly received, while the creative team raised some boos and some rather sonorous foot stamping, not a sign of enthusiasm in this part of the world.

New production with Tel Aviv Opera and Poznan’s Teatr Wielki.

Direction: Michal Znaniecki.
Sets: Luigi Scoglio.
Costumes: Kornelia Piskorek.
Lighting: Bogumil Palewicz.

Cast:

Ernani: Aquiles Machado.
Elvira. Dimitra Theodossiou.
Don Carlo: Zeljko Lucic.
Silva: Orlin Anastassov.
Riccardo: Eduardo Ituarte.
Giovanna: Leyre Mesa.
Iago: Iñigo Martín.