Monday, March 22nd in Crowder Hall at 7:30pm
with a reception to follow in the Green Room

Accompanist: Ian Houghton, who is a DMA piano performance student.

Selections from “Die schöne Müllerin” by Schubert

3 songs by Rachmaninoff

The song cycle “Air Chantés” by Poulenc

Selections from “A Young Man’s Exhortation” by Gerald Finzi

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.

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

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.

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.

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