New York - October/November 2005

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Mais pas aujourd'hui, c'est certain

I guess it must be awful to be an opera conductor with a French name and lack a strong connection with Carmen - but then Philippe Jordan is Swiss. His Carmen has the excitement and dramatic flair of a clockmaker. I thought that there might be something to do with the cast, but a repeat with different singers proves that, in spite of fast tempi, his Carmen is largely uneventful. This time we have a strong seductress in Denyce Graves. She does have the looks and the attitude, and a voice focused and forceful enough. However, she didn't seem to be in her best days - her high register was a bit cloudy and some moments of ungainliness showed a tired tone. Maybe the recent venture into Azucena has something to do with that. It is a pity, for it is the right voice for the role, even if some may dislike her "Carmen the bitch" approach. It was also Ana María Martinez's debut at the Met. It is a most pleasant voice, with something of Luba Orgonasová in its fast-vibrato-ish dusky floating soprano. I read she has been singing Fiordiligi and that promises to be interesting, but she really should stay off Violetta. That's definitely the wrong role for her voice (and I am saying this considering her near-future schedule). As Don José, Marcelo Giordani brings a natural pleasant tenor and a certain familiarity with French style. His trump cards are his firm bright top notes and his ease with high tessitura should involve mezza voce in the Flower Song. Unfortunately, this did not happen. Finally, Uruguayan bass Erwin Schrott pulled out a faultless performance as Escamillo - he was comfortable in the tessitura, displayed charisma and a handsome tone.

Saturday, November 19th 2005

Roméo and his two Juliettes

The much awaited début of Guy Joostens' production of Gounod's Roméo et Juliette has been talked about in the media as the Natalie Dessay's Met début in a serious role (if I am not mistaken, her roles in the house have been so far Fiakermilli, Zerbinetta and Olympia). Maybe because of that, her last minute cancellation has thrown an awkward atmosphere in the whole production. It is not that Maureen O'Flynn has spoilt the show. She proved to have nerves of steel on stepping in in circumstances like that. Dexterous as she is, she still has a slightly acidulous voice and her sense of pitch leaves something to be desired. However, her tone is penetrating enough for comfort and she looks gracious enough for the role. The problem is that the whole show has been concocted for Dessay's acting abilities - and her absence left the remaining singers/actors uncomfortable - and that may account's for the overall reticence in the rest of the cast. Finally granted its Juliette, the whole performance seemed transformed - most of all conductor Bertrand de Billy. While his account of the score on Monday seemed a bit contrived and miscalculated, he showed a mastery of his orchestra and a sense of vitality on Thursday to an extent that someone might take him for another maestro.

And there was Dessay. Although the voice has these days a tendency to spreading on top notes, this is not really bothersome in the theatre. On the contrary, it is a most charming, entirely musical instrument that gives life to every bit of melody in the part of Juliette. Her native French, her tone colouring col testo, her legendary flexibility and accuracy with roulades, runs and trills - there is no doubt that she deserves her reputation and her moving into lyric roles is most welcome. Most noticeable of all was the wealth of stage movements and character building that filled scenes which looked uneventful on Monday. Her Juliette is spirited and whole-hearted in fun and in woe. Accordingly, Ramón Vargas responded more ardently to this Juliette, although his legato seemed to be more thoroughly knit on Monday. His voice is also entirely suited to this role - his dulcet tenor has enough volume for the most exposed moments, although this must not be confounded with the heroic quality one might expect from him considering his recent choice of roles. He sang with grace, sensitivity and sense of style and proved to be comfortable with his acting in a way few tenors in this repertoire do. The other tenor, Dimitri Pittas, in the role of Tybalt, is firm-toned and rightfully incisive to depict the character's sense of pride and self-importance. Stéphane Degout's Mercutio is similarly forceful, but also idiomatic and - thank God - unexaggerated. Kristinn Sigmundsson has the right gravitas for the role of Frère Laurent and Joyce DiDonato is a vivacious Stéphano.

As for the production, it is lots of ideas - most of them innocuous but inoffensive. Having the action set on a display of a clock with astrological/astronomic associations seems to imply the idea of ill-starred lovers taken to an untimely death, but that's too intellectual to guarantee an extra amount of feeling. It certainly looks beautiful, though. I am not a Gounod-ian, so I have seen this opera only once before, in Munich (with Angela Maria Blasi and Marcelo Álvarez), in a wonderful modern production that actually added insight to the story, but my "default" is the MacKerras video in which everything simply looks like Romeo and Juliet. Maybe I've missed that.

Thursday, November 17th 2005

Going along with tourists

Even if Zeffirelli has fallen from grace in the hoch-artistic world, I guess that if you like theatre and opera, you have to see a production signed by him: noblesse oblige. I would add - even when it is La Bohème. But I guess I should say "especially when" it is one of the most expensive productions ever presented at the Lincoln Center. So there I went. I knew it from the video with Teresa Stratas and José Carreras and it looks as great as in the video. The Café Momus scene is so crowded that some big red arrows would be helpful to find Mimi and Rodolfo, but it looks tremendous - so who cares? I feared the worst from the musical side of the event, so it accounts for my quite positive impression. I mean - it was far from unforgettable, but could keep the interest. At least mine (my neighbours were more interested in chewing gum). Philippe Auguin is a rather exotic Puccinian. His Straussian credential show in the rich colourful orchestral sound, but his sense of forward movement sometimes collided with Italianate sensuous rubato. This may account for a refreshingly (?) unsentimental account. (The "?" refers to the matter of the worth of being unsentimental in a sentimental score.) As Mimì, Ruth Ann Swenson proved to be in better shape than as Micaela three or four weeks ago. Her voice is still less fresh than it used to be and some high notes have a noticeable flutter. Also, her playing with chest voice - at least in this role - is far better handled, if still not entirely natural. However, the part is definitely congenial to her vocal and expressive personality. Sounding lovely and gentle has always been in the chore of Swenson's vocalità. The same cannot be said of Emily Pulley's Musetta. Harsh is the word that comes to my mind when I think of her voice. Maybe she's trying to make a point - but it comes across exclusively in the shape of "harshness". As for Frank Lopardo, it has never been a charming voice, but he is a singer with technical flair. So he was last night. The part seems two sides larger than his voice, but he did a decent job. So did Vassily Gerello, the incisive-toned Marcello last night. Mexican bass Rosendo Flores produced a sensitive warm-toned Vecchia zimarra and Earle Patriarco had charisma enough to bring his Schaunard to some attention.

Tuesday, November 15th 2005

Lots of stuff

This has been a busy week-end, guiding friends in town and doing some necessary shopping. Two things stand-out: Vermeer's Allegory of Faith at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It took me some time to like that painting, but now it seems one of his greatest masterpieces. A catholic client ordered this allegoric setting and Vermeer responded in a manner fit for semeiological studies: all the symbols are clearly represented in a way that you can see the symbol and the object itself "playing" as a symbol. You can see the knot tying the crystal globe representing spirit to the ceiling and other symbolic objects pasted over the painting Vermeer wanted to paint first of all presided over by a real Catholic painting on the wall.

The other highlight was Gabriel Byrne's grandiose and touching performance in O'Neill's A Touch of the Poet at Studio 54, directed by Doug Hughes in a somewhat conservative style. Santo Loquasto's beautifully crafted sets and costumes are accordingly traditional and some acting is bureaucratic (something that often happens with young actors in plays in which the leading parts are taken by older actors), but Gabriel Byrne knew how to find the right balance between comedy and drama in his Major Melody.

Sunday, November 13th 2005

Aida without Aida

A second visit to the Met's Aida, almost entirely recast only served to prove that the other night was really the one to see. Without voices powerful and colourful enough, Aida is almost devoid of charm, more so with a less exciting orchestral sound to cope with the less generous-voiced cast. Hasmik Papian has a pleasant velvety voice, but is entirely miscast as the Ethiopian princess. Her low register is non-functional for this role, the rest of the voice lacks cutting power and she sings in one-dimensional mezzo-forte throughout. The closing scene was particularly painful, sang without any attempt of mezza-voce. It is particularly worrisome when one leaves the opera considering the Italian macho-ish tenor more sensitive than the prima donna. Franco Farina's voice has a tremendous flutter in the high notes and is handled from pressure to strain, but he knows where one should scale down, something he did without much effort. As for Yvonne Naef, although she is a sensitive singer, who knows how to colour her voice and produce pianissimo, her voice doesn't belong in this repertoire. She was announced to be indisposed for the last act, where her replacement by Dolora Zajick simply saved the whole show. I had had the bad luck of missing this act with Zajick the previous time, where her indisposed self was far more impressive than Naef's. In perfect health, she simply peeled the paint from the walls with her powerful mezzo and complete savoir-faire in this difficult repertoire. Allowed to unleash his orchestra, finally Conlon could do something of that performance. As Amonasro, Mark Delavan's warm baritone proved a contrast to Lado Ataneli's in the original cast, but his upper range still sounds artificial and unexciting.

Saturday, November 12th 2005

Don't hate her because she's beautiful

Miah Persson is so charming and cute and lovely and nice that many people at the Weill Recital Hall had a problem about being objective about the event. In the end of the evening, there was such a refreshing atmosphere - a friend of mine who was having his first encounter with a Liederabend deemed it an entirely satisfying experience - that I could say Persson's assets are not only physical but also metaphysical. To start with, hers is a most pleasant voice: bell-like through the whole range, flexible with the right touch of warmness in order to avoid shrillness or a metallic impression. She is a young singer and, if she doesn't abuse her nature, one can see a lyric soprano in the making. Maybe because of her baroque music background, sometimes one wishes for a bit more legato when things get high, but the naturalness, purity and projection of her upper range is something to marvel. With such attributes, one can take for granted that her Mozart singing is exquisite - and so it was. She was entirely graceful in Un moto di gioia and An Chloe and could find the depth (even in her lower range) for Als Luise die Briefe and Abendempfindug. The shift for Schumann's Frauenliebe und Leben raised the level of challenge to the young Swedish soprano. Could that voice so full of girly charm be able to convey all the vocal and emotional colours of this favourite cycle? Persson proved that the best way to confront strong competition is avoiding competition. Mirella Freni once said that she has always preferred to be "the little Mirella" than a copy of "the great diva". And little Miah proved that Chamisso's verses do make sense in a "little woman" approach, especially for modern audiences. In her clarity of tone, she conveyed a sense of youth, naïveté and wonder that shed an entirely new light in these songs, without replacing the depth of expression of a Fassbaender or a Jessye Norman. Although the tone palette was less exuberant than one is used to hear in the cycle, the word-pointing, the purposefulness of phrasing and the stage-portraying was irresistible. In the last song, with tear in her eyes, she had the audience on her side. She has lived through these songs, sung from the heart to the heart and given herself entirely to Schumann. How often does it happen in true sincerity?

After the intermission, the Strauss songs again revealed a lighter touch, a Lisa della Casa-like radiance conveyed through her purity of tone. In these songs, however, the absence of a more soaring approach to legato and a truly hypnotizing mezza voce was felt. The same cannot be said of the Scandinavian part of the program. It seems she reserved her best for last. In these pieces, she commited herself to a fuller-throated vocalization that showed all her potential in the lyric repertoire. Also, Nystroem's songs are amazingly evocative and deserved more attention. In the encores, she gave a heartfelt and soaring account of Berg's Die Nachtigall and a sensuous rendition of Grieg's I love you.

Friday, November 11 2005

Göttermorgenrot?

If you are a Wagnerite, what happened last night at the Avery Fisher Hall has something to do with you. In the eyes of classical music media industry (if something like that exists), Deborah Voigt and Ben Heppner are the hot propriety for the roles of Brünnhilde and Siegfried, especially after what they consider to be a successful upgrading to the roles of Tristan and Isolde (and the fact that they look more heroic these days in the modern sense of the word). In the Playbill given to us before the concert, Heppner says that his and Voigt's hallmark is the fact that they have no dramatic voices, but rather big lyric ones (what Germans would call jugendlich dramatisch). Yesterday you could have checked all that.

Beethoven's Leonore is far from being a lyric role and the fact that Voigt struggled with Abscheulicher from first to last note is an evidence of that. In order to format herself to deal with this most formidable of arias, she had to distort her voice in such a way that, if I was Florestan, I would have hidden in the darkest corner of my dungeon. Her descent to chest voice is unflattering to the ears and doesn't fit what we are used to consider the German approach to singing, the middle register had a harsh sound and she didn't seem comfortable with her (big) top notes. I have to confess I feared the worst after that. However, I remember I have said myself that I think the role of Isolde works better with a jugendlich dramatisch voice and, if I am right, this might explain why Voigt fared so incredibly better in the Liebesnacht (from O sink hernieder on). Her top register was at its richest and the voice simply flowed in a way it previously didn't. Her soprano still challenges us by the fact that it is a jugendlich voice without a youthful tone. Sometimes it sounds quite matronly (especially in the problematic low register). Her approach to interpretation is discrete to the point of nonexistence, but her diction - as I had found in her creamier-toned days as Sieglinde in 1997 at the Met - is very crisp. The same problem appears in her Elisabeth, but her Dich teure Halle is certainly healthy. It is most curious, though, that the closing scene from Siegfried (from Ewig war ich to the end) was her most interesting piece of singing last night: for worse and for better. First of all, her soft-toned approach to the part is certainly appealing, especially after the recent diet of shrill, hard-voiced (if not shrieking) Brünnhildes we have had these days. Her ascent to top notes is certainly athletic and reliable. She scored many points with some sweet but spacious top notes in the most lyric moments. Also, it is a voice large enough to produce the tingle factor we all expect in this repertoire. However, even if she was economical with chest resonance, her first octave still needs some work. When things get too fast or complicate, the sound may lose colour. Although Brangäne's calling in the night is far from being the ultimate difficulty written by Wagner, the contrast with Margaret Jane Wray was most telling. Singing from one balcony, she filled the hall with her spacious warm sensuous mezzo-tinted dramatic soprano. I missed that vocal allure in the brave if uninspiring Voigt.

On the other hand, Ben Heppner's tenor is a delight to the ears. What a beautiful voice! There is nothing to fault in his technique and nature has been generous with him. He opened his program with Max's Dürch die Walder, dürch die Auen, an aria that fits his voice splendidly. And that accounts for what we were going to hear next. Heppner is the kind of gifted vocalist who always survives gracefully whatever hardship. That had been my impression when I saw him as Tristan in Salzburg in 1999. He never sounded like Tristan (and he was often clouded by the orchestra) but he sang beautifully from beginning to end. Last night, he sang even more beautifully and the voice seemed to have gained in strength, but his volume still leaves some doubt. Thank God he doesn't force and keeps truthful to his vocal nature, but I wonder how a voice like that could endure to sing Siegfried in any place but Bayreuth, where the orchestra is lovingly locked below the stage. His duet with Voigt showed an unusually pleasant-toned and legato-ish Siegfried, but less exuberant in volume than we are used to hear. Shifting back to his natural Fach, he gave an admirable account of the Preislied. I think Walther is his best role - and live with an orchestra on stage he proves that my opinion is not far from the mark.

Finally, the Orchestra of Saint Luke's is no-one's idea of a Wagnerian band, but Asher Fischer is a vivid conductor who never forgets about clarity and forward movement. He also provided a very unusual duet version of R. Strauss' Zueignung for the encore.

Wednesday, November 9th 2005

Matthias Görne

While I waited for my bus after Matthias Görne's Liederabend in the Alice Tully Hall, someone was saying to his mobile "He has the best of Fischer-Dieskau and the best of Hermann Prey". This is a bold opinion, but I would say it is not very far from the truth. During his recital I kept thinking that his mastery of musical and poetic aspects was such that either a fan of, say Fritz Wunderlich or an admirer of Elisabeth Schwarzkopf could have had great fun with Görne - he knows how to make his text crisp and to emphasize without distorting a melodic line. Also he knows the value of tone colouring, something he masters like few. If I have to compare his style with some famous Lieder singer, I guess his beautifully crafted artlessness makes me think of Christa Ludwig.
The voice itself is simply beautiful and, judging from the richness and spaciousness of his low register, he might end more a bass-baritone than a baritone. He handles the upper end of his voice in a most cunning way - either fining it down to pure clear-toned mezza voce or thundering a not entirely comfortable (but never ugly) forte. Moreover, he is the kind of singer who knows how to play with the incidental roughness. If someone pointed a gun at me and said "be picky", I would say some of the vocal tricks he uses to darken his bottom register impair a bit the clarity of his vowels down there.
The most conventional item in his recital, the Mahler Lieder, proved to be the most successful, especially in the Wunderhorn songs. Those who know his broadcast from Berlin with Abbado would be pleased to hear him sing songs then taken by Anne Sofie von Otter. Maybe because the tessitura was more congenial to him, in these songs he let himself go in a way he didn't or couldn't in the rest of the evening, producing an anguished and inspiring Urlicht and a powerful Revelge, a moment when everyone in the audience certainly thought of Fischer-Dieskau.
Berg's op.2 showed Görne at his most musicianly. He impregnated his difficult intervals with such lyricism that you could see the Gershwin in good old Alban. Finally, being a baritone and singing the Wesendonk Lieder with such thoroughness and sensitivity is something to marvel. I only don't know if the missing lighter touch is a necessary consequence of having a dark-voiced baritone singing soprano repertoire or if it was his option to mark this was not going to be like Régine Crespin. He offered also two encores: an evocative touching rendition of Beethoven's An die Hoffnung and a cheeky account of Mahler's Selbstgefühl.
Pianist Wolfram Rieger's colourful playing proved to be the right accompaniment for this singer and their Selbstverständnis is in the heart of what chamber music should be.

Tuesday, November 8th 2005

Rivette

Yesterday I saw on TV a wonderful movie called Va savoir, by Jacques Rivette. I don't know why, but I thought it was a movie by Patrice Chéreau. Maybe the bittersweet atmosphere and the existence of two couples with entanglements between them, not to mention Italian language (some of the characters appear in a play by Pirandello) - I guess it made me think of Chéreau staging Così fan Tutte in Paris these days. Anyway, it is a lovely movie, I guess this is the closest to a romantic comedy an intellectual director would go. It features the marvelous Jeanne Balibar (who reads her Italian lines superbly), Sergio Castellito, Hélène de Fougerolles and Bruno Todeschini. It is a feast to the eyes, to the ears, to the brain and to the heart.

Monday, November 7th 2005

Albee

I like Albee, even when there are reasons I shouldn't. I don't know - I think his witty dialogues and unsettling situations are exquisitely handled. And he knows how to find the right touch of timelessness every masterpiece should have. When I have first seen The Zoo Story, I couldn't believe the play had been written in 1958. Seascape has been written in 1974 and retains all its freshness too. I have to confess that I took some time to settle from the Surrealistic turn in the middle of the play. The dialogues involving the sea creatures were simply less interesting than the realistic ones with the elderly couple dealing with mortality and the loss of youth. The second part of the play had this "didactic" thing that bothered me just a little bit until the metaphor made sense. In any case, it is the work of a master (so far I have never left the theater after a play by Albee with the feeling that it was a loss of time), beautifully performed by the fabulous Frances Sternhagen and George Grizzard, as Nancy and Charlie. Frederick Weller and Elizabeth Marvel had a kind of pointed acting that made the second part of the play seem like Saturday Night Live minus the silliness, but I guess that was a dramatic point. Michael Yeargan's sets and Catherine Zuber's costumes were exquisite and director Mark Lamos handled timing with the precision of a Swiss clockmaker.

Sunday, November 6th 2005

Mahlerei mit starke Farben

Not long ago I was talking about the impression of an orchestra from one concert. I had never seen the Chicago Symphony before and couldn't miss the opportunity Saturday in the Carnegie Hall. I have to confess I missed the Schönberg and can only speak about Mahler's 5th, a work I have seen conducted live by Chailly, Janowski, Rattle et al. I must also say that, although I like some symphonies and all the Lieder by Mahler, I am not a Mahlerian. Maybe that is why I was probably the one unimpressed person in the raving enthusiastic audience. I found Barenboim's approach incredibly heavy and, on his intent to emphasize every climax in the score, he only highlighted the feature all those who don't like Mahler hate. The heavy-handed approach involved some noisy brassy orchestra playing (my neighbours were delighted), some playing with tempo that made the piece sound long and disjointed. I don't know - the only moment in which all that Götterdämmerung-ism seemed to work was the adagietto, when the high-density sound allied with the slow tempi finally demanded by the composer caused a great impression. Maybe I have listened too much Kubelík and got used to clear articulation in strings and euphonious French horns.

Saturday, November 5th 2005

Once upon a time in a small town called New York

New York is the kind of town that has a bit of everything. You can even go provincial. At least that was how I felt Friday during the New York City Opera production of Puccini's Turandot. To start with, I must state my admiration for the administration of this adventurous opera house. They have premièred many an interesting work this side of the Atlantic, build many marvelous careers and - what is closer to my sphere of interest - created the leading reputation among Handelian venues in the New World. I have attended only one performance there before, a charming imaginative production of Handel's Orlando with Bejun Mehta. Because of all that, I am inclined to think that this Turandot was rather an accident. The collection of photos of successful production in the main hall, with the likes of Tatiana Troyanos, Plácido Domingo and Beverly Sills seems to confirm that. First of all, the settings and costumes were so amateurish and ultimately ugly that I took a long while to believe that they have been designed by someone decorated by the Italian government. You wouldn't find a production like that even in the most obscure of opera houses in Italy. Also, the "second" theatre in a big city is supposed to do something other than mainstream in a repertoire belonging to the "main" opera house in town, such as the Komisch Oper (for the records, the place where you could see an Entführung aus dem Serail in the nude…).

I have had a bad time trying to dissociate images from sound in order to appreciate the performance. On doing that, I could notice that the chorus there is far more reliable than the one at the Met. At least, you won't find wobbly sopranos there. Also that George Manahan's stern, rhythmic conducting is most welcome in this piece. It brings forth the modernity in its writing and makes me wonder what someone like Riccardo Muti would have done with that score. And I guess those are the assets of Friday's show. Lori Phillips does have a big enough voice for the role of Turandot. She is not a terribly good actress, but she looks better than almost any other Turandot I can think of (I'm not speaking of Maria Jeritza and Inge Borkh - that's too long ago…). The problem is that, on trying to beef up a voice that actually doesn't need that, she resorts to the kind of backward placement no Italian soprano would consider to adopt, especially in this repertoire. The result: colourless tone, lack of piercing quality and some effort. I was ready to be lured from the charms of the leading lady to the seconda donna (as it often happens in this opera), but that was not the case. Guylane Girard might be a lovely singer, but she was so desperately overparted as Liù that it is difficult to say something. Phillip Webb un-Italianate tenor seemed to be miming a non-existent singer in the wings, such was his lack of carrying power. His technique seems to be squeezing his voice to the top register instead of taking advantage of his resonators (and a barrel-chested guy such as him must have all the space of the world to resonate). Only the Timur, the Turkish baritone Burak Bigili, seemed not to be singing against his voice.

A final comment: a blind lady next to me took a guiding dog with her. I was amazed how much we can learn from animals: it didn't move, it didn't utter a sound, it didn't have a mobile phone and it didn't unwrap candies. Next time I hope I'll have the seat next to this civilized creature.

Friday, November 4th 2005

Changing roles

There was I time I loved to browse through La Scala's website and read who were the singers and conductors who have performed this or that opera at the Milanese theatre. One entry that made me curious and surprised was an Abbado Nozze di Figaro with Mirella Freni as the Countess and Hermann Prey as the Count. You may remember that those were famous Susanna and Figaro, as in Böhm's Unitel video (in which Kiri Te Kanawa and Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau play M. and Mme. Almaviva). Well, yesterday on my browsing through Tower Records I found exactly this performance released by Opera d'Oro. The recorded sound is problematic (too favourable for the orchestra, which is not in great shape by the way), but the opportunity to see what Freni and Prey would sound in the other roles was irresistible.

As it is, this might be shocking but I guess Freni has been miscast most of the time in this opera. I am not a fan of her Susanna. She does sing prettily, but with irritating comic effects typical of Italian soubrettes that are basically a turn-off for me. In the Ponnelle film, Böhm does his best to tame that, but still… As the Countess we get the best of her Italianate qualities: use of dynamics based on the meaning of the text (such as in Porgi amor), a pure bright powerful sound to preside the ensembles and an amazingly focused low register allowing us to hear pieces of phrasing written by Mozart that have belonged so far to the score alone in my experience (and, yes, I know the Jessye Norman recording in which Freni is Susanna btw). She has also an interesting Susanna in Daniela Mazzucato (a singer unknown to me). Yes, she is the typical Italian soubrette, but one who knows the moment to sing "straight". Although her singing is always most appealing, one can tell that the classy one is the other soprano - and that's great. She also sings a truly teasing Deh vieni non tardar. As for Prey, I guess that Figaro is all right his role. The voice has too much of a smile for the Count and the writing requires a more incisive instrument. Even the well-behaved José van Dam, the performance's Figaro, sounds dashing compared to him. Finally, Teresa Berganza is a charming if feminine Cherubino. In Voi che sapete, she sounds uncannily like the oboe. A beautiful performance.

Sounds from the North

Out of surprise, I was given a ticket to see Gidon Kremer and the New York Philharmonic, under the baton of young Finnish conductor Mikko Franck. It is difficult to compare orchestras. There was a time I used to hear people say "Ah, the Berlin Philh. has been the orchestral experience of my life" or "The Staatskapelle Dresden is far better than the Vienna Philharmonic"… Today I am more inclined to say that there are halls, programs, concerts and audiences and the interaction of these elements create an experience unique in itself and difficult to compare. A friend of mine would say that, since musicians are not the same as time goes by, even one orchestra is not like itself in different moments in time. Anyway, it is difficult to compare orchestras - it is easy, though, to say when the results are bad or good (or even exceptional).

I have seen the world's best orchestras, but some experiences stick to my mind: the Philharmonia Orchestra in São Paulo (conductor Pavlo Järvi) - Mendelsohn's Italian Symphony + Mahler 4th; the Berlin German Radio Symphony Orchestra in Rio (conductor Marek Janowski) Mahler's 5th + orchestral passages from Wagner operas; the ouverture from Parsifal at the Vienna State Opera (conductor Jun Märkl); the whole of Wagner's Lohengrin at the Staatsoper unter den Linden (conductor Daniel Barenboim); the Staatskapelle Dresden at the Semperoper (conductor Daniele Gatti) - Salome's Dance of the Seven Veils plus Berg's Violin Concerto; the Munich Philharmonic (conductor James Levine) - Parsifal in concert performance.

Some other famous orchestras didn't produce the same effect on me, though. I saw the New York Philharmonic in Rio - I basically don't remember the program but for R. Strauss' Vier letzte Lieder with a reliable Christine Brewer. I found the whole thing uneventful - but then I thought that Masur is far from being my favourite conductor and the reputation of the orchestra was far from scratchless. Well, judging from yesterday, Lorin Maazel has been a gift from heaven to the orchestra's health. It is in resplendent shape - and I am sure Franck is not the author of the miracle. His Leonore no. 3 lacked some menace, but the zipping passages were beautifully and thoroughly delivered by the strings, which produced a massive enough sound to preside over the brass section. I can't say much of Schnittke's concerto grosso. At first I thought that inviting Kremer to play that was the same thing of inviting Isabelle Huppert to perform in Sarah Kane's Psychose 4:48, but then I realized that the writing was so complicate that only a virtuoso such as Kremer could pull the whole thing out and even find time for expression, especially in the last movement. Shostakovich's 5th Symphony may have found more passionate performances, but Franck's more apolinean approach did profit of the polish in the orchestral sound and the closing movement thundered gloriously in the Avery Fisher Hall - at least for a non-specialist such as I am.

Thursday, November 3rd 2005

CD's

I am often tempted to buy those amazing performances available on Myto, but am also always afraid of the recorded sound. Last week, I have to confess I yielded to temptation and bought two recordings I have long coveted: Bellini's Norma conduced by Muti at La Scala with Renata Scotto and Margherita Rinaldi, a soprano Adalgisa, and a Simon Boccanegra from Vienna with Gundula Janowitz as Amelia. The Norma is simply sensational - Scotto and Muti make a wonderful partnership and the right balance between excitement and musical thoroughness is achieved. Also, the Italian diva is in wonderful voice, offering the most heartfelt and touching performance of the title role available in recordings. Rinaldi is a young-sounding vulnerable Adalgisa, beautifully contrasted to Scotto. The rest of the cast is competent, no more than that. At least tenor Ermano Mauro has a pleasant voice. And the recorded sound is acceptable. Once you adjust to a certain lack of immediacy, it even ceases to be an issue.

As for the Simon Boccanegra, Krips is not the most inspired conductor for this repertoire and Eberhard Wächter was already in the beginning of his vocal decline. Carlo Cossuta and Nicolai Ghiaurov are certainly good reasons to listen to this recording, while Janowitz has some amazing moments and some not entirely comfortable. In the end, although she is not going to be a model for this role, it is still a beautiful and sensitive performance.

Yesterday on my visit to the Tower Records, I took profit of their sample CD listening devices to hear a bit of Harnoncourt's new Messiah. I was compelled to buy it - and his conducting is even more organic than in the previous Teldec recording - but Christine Schäfer not entirely at ease and a miscast Anna Larsson were a turn-off for me. The old recording featured a resourceful Elizabeth Gale and a marvelous Marjana Livposek. In compensation, the Canadian team Michael Schade and Gerald Finley are certainly more appealing than Werner Hollweg and Roderick Kennedy. In any case, I'm still happy about my Minkowski, if I have to have a "different" Messiah. As I really wanted to buy anything yesterday, I have purchased Maazel's Cleveland recording of Beethoven 9th Symphony. And this is an interesting recording to have around if you have always been disappointed by the mechanics of the vocal quartet singing. Sure Maazel knows how to produce a clean line and the Cleveland is a good orchestra. This is probably the best-organized euphoria ever recorded. However, on casting a big bright tenor voice able to fine down to mezza voce, a spacious dark bass on a long range, a very powerful flexible mezzo and a soaring soprano entirely at ease at the high range filigree, Maazel guaranteed that the solo passages sound as clear and equalized as they may have done in Beethoven's imagination. The clarity here achieved by these singers is simply illuminating. And they happen to be Lucia Popp, Elena Obrastzova (yes, you can hear what the mezzo is singing _the whole time_), Jon Vickers and Martti Talvela (they even attach a photo to prove that).
Thursday, November 3rd 2005

Corriam' tutti a festeggiar!

Jonathan Miller's production of Le Nozze di Figaro has proved to be successful in the video from the Vienna State Opera with Cheryl Studer and Ruggero Raimondi. In his re-concoction for the Met, the beautiful sceneries and costumes (by Peter Davison and James Acheson) and lively but unobtrusive direction (technically by Robin Guarino, although I could recognize many gestures from the Viennese video) made a refreshing show. Having a newcomer to the world of opera actually having fun, such as a friend of mine yesterday, might be a good thermometer for that (at least I can say he has been convinced to see Così fan tutte). However, a large amount of yesterday performance's thrill is owed to conductor Mark Wigglesworth, making his Met debut. His agile, energetic and intelligent conducting extracted a degree of flexibility from the orchestra largely unknown to me, although one must recognize that the sound image was less opulent and appealing than what one would find with Levine in this season's Così. If I had to be picky, ensembles could have a bit more polish, but then I have to find some fault with the case and say Contessa, perdono, but…

A singer I have previously seen as Freia, Hei-Kyung Hong was alternatively illuminating and irritating in the part of the Countess Almaviva. In a certain sense, she has a Schwarzkopf-like elegant but provocative presence on stage that is most welcome for this role. Also, she has a fresh approach to it, less passive and more sensuous than many a rival, not to mention that she is certainly well-equipped for the task. Her soprano is capable of holding a clean line in a big theatre without any ado and blossoms easily and gloriously in the high register. Some difficult passages such as the stretta of Dove sono sounded remarkably easy in her voice. However, she is amazingly ill-disciplined for a professional singer. Her carelessness with pitch, tempo and technique simply impair all the above-listed virtues and spoil many moments that could have been magic.

It is not usual to find a performance of Nozze in which the Susanna is less alluring than the Countess and that is most refreshing. Lisa Milne's plump physique and hearty attitude certainly cuts a strong contrast, vocally too. Her reedy soprano is a bit timid in volume for the venue and tended to lose focus when things got tougher, but when the line was congenial to her, such as in Deh vieni non tardar, she was entirely beguiling. She is also a charming stylish singer, but a stronger acquaintance with Italian language would certainly help her in the future. That was highlighted by the fact that a native-speaker was taking the part of her fiancé. The vivacious firm-toned Luca Pisaroni was an entirely satisfying if unexceptional Figaro. It is a pity, though, that the Count, the Swedish baritone Peter Mattei was a bit short in both ends of his range, what marred a bit an incisive spirited portrait. Actually, the most remarkable among low-voiced singers was Maurizio Muraro, whose dark focused bass works splendidly for Bartolo. I should mention Bernard Fitch, since he was determined to steal the show as Don Curzio. He can praise himself for spoiling the ensembles he took part in by stealing the Hauptstimme Mozart never intended to give him.
Today I reserve the best for last: in her house debut, the splendid Joyce DiDonato as Cherubino. What an artist she is! I feel inclined to say I am proud to have seen her live. She simply has it all - a charming perfectly schooled voice stylishly and sensitively used allied to strong acting gifts, not to mention the inexplicable thing we just call charisma. I try to keep excitement low when describing something really exciting, so I should point out that one note or two revealed suspect pitch in Non so più, but that seemed to be part of the agitation described in the aria. In the remaining 99.9% of her part she was simply perfect. This is the kind of singer who doesn't have to format herself to produce a Mozartian line - it comes naturally to her, to produce those pearly strings of phrasing reserved to the likes of Gundula Janowitz, Margaret Price, Lucia Popp and Frederica von Stade.

Wednesday, November 2nd 2005

Boston!

A week-end away from NY in order to visit my cousin in Massachusetts was a good opportunity to visit Boston again, especially with the company of my good friend Henry. It was snowing, the town looked beautiful, but it was too cold to take a walk. So I had this "indoors" Boston experience. My first stop was the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, the most original and exotic museum I have ever visited. Those who don't know this extraordinary institution will be surprised to know that Gardner, a cultivated millionaire, gathered an enormous collection and displayed it in her Venetian-style palace by the Fenway Park in Boston. In her will, she required that every object should be kept in the exact place where she left. As a result, the collection is displayed in a somewhat "theatrical" way (not always very easy for the visitor - most times you have to guess what those things actually are) and sometimes even chaotic way. Because of this semi-religious preservation - the museum is very close to what a modern artist would call an "installation", Ms. Gardner being the artistic mind determining the kind of experience you should have through her display of objects - the whole building has sometimes the atmosphere of a funereal monument, with its dusty, faded and phantasmagoric atmosphere. It is certainly quite bizarre.
Then Henry guided me through a very personal visit through the collection of the Fine Arts Museum, one of my favourites - it is clean, well-organized, big enough to offer a comprehensive view and small enough not to feel like a pilgrimage. He showed me some American paintings that have an almost symbolic status in American art (which is something a foreigner like me should and did appreciate) and we could also browse through the European collection, which includes a wonderfully newly acquired Degas - a portrait of the Duchess of Montejasi with her daughters.
We had dinner in a charming little restaurant named Troquet and followed our way to the Symphony Hall, where Colin Davis would present an unusual coupling of Mozart and Tipett.
While the Posthorn Serenade offered a certain patrician charm, conveyed through the Boston Symphony elegant woodwind and flexible strings, it was basically too well-behaved to produce the right effect. The Tippet was a first experience to me. It is basically not my repertoire and I could tell that I was not the only one there. Unlike most people in the audience, I was willing to give the unusual piece a chance. Its pseudo-deep "libretto", its Bachian alternation of imitative choirs, narration and chorales (in the shape of spirituals), its Mahlerian sense of effect - all those parts do not add to a coherent sum, but are certainly worth while the occasional detour, especially in the hands of a passionate advocate as Davis, leading a deluxe ensemble such as the BSO. The piece ideally requires more generous vocal natures than the ones displayed that evening, though. Only soprano Indra Thomas would call one's attention with her spacious floating soprano, a kind of more powerful version of Barbara Hendricks. Catherine Wyn Rogers' contralto sounded uncomfortable in the higher reaches and both Paul Groves and Alastair Miles lacked power and had therefore their rough patches.

Saturday, October 29th 2005

Suffering with Lucia

Against the general opinion, I consider Donizetti's Lucia di Lammermoor a masterpiece of the repertoire. However, true Romantic theatre requires absolute conviction; otherwise the result is generally laughable. How much conviction one can boast while struggling with the notes? That's subject for debate. If looks could sing, Elizabeth Futral would be the perfect bride of the Lammermoor. Her Snow White looks, sylph-like gestures and graciousness are exactly what one has in mind when picturing the character in the mind. However, the point about Lucia is the admirable poignancy achieved through the innovative of coloratura for lyric purposes. Ms. Futral has certainly achieved a reputation in this repertoire, but has ventured out in dangerous directions such as the title role in R. Strauss' Daphne. That may account for the basically unfocused sound, deprived of any brightness and poise. She still has the flexibility for the fioriture, but looks quite nervous while dealing with them. Not to mention that her high register requires the kind of preparation a soprano in this repertoire should never think of. As a result, her top notes were tense and colourless and the insistent resource to puntature in the end of cabalette and ensembles were far from a virtue, her in alts being the opposite of pretty and very close to shouting (albeit more or less in pitch). After act I, one could expect for the announcement of a stand-in, but the prima donna seemed to make a point on going through. She did showed herself in better form in act II and could gather her resources to produce some kind of expression (so far, things gravitated around going to the end of each number), through some shading, tone colouring and the basic tools of interpretation. One could see that the artist certainly has the spiritual requirements to perform a good Mad Scene and some vestiges of the vocal equipment to realize them, but something woefully wrong has happened to that singer. I hope it was simply the fact that she was (seriously) indisposed. Otherwise, she (seriously) needs to take some time and work on her technique.

In Giuseppe Filianoti, the Met found a singer who also has the Romantic looks, but also the stylistic and vocal means to produce a beautiful performance in the role of Edgardo. His lyric tenor is bright and homogeneous and easy in the whole range. There are moments when some tightness could be felt. However, his expressive use of legato, the balance between pure phrasing and verbal pointing and sheer imagination were praiseworthy. His closing scene was deeply touching. Once or twice some affectation (a problem more noticeable in his action) robbed him of some sincerity, but he is a young singer and this is definitely going to be adjusted with experience. Also, it is most amazing that a newcomer in the international scene is able to produce a performance of such stylistic and expressive thoroughness in his debut in a leading opera house.

Charles Taylor's rich baritone is also worthy of mention. Although he has firm and comfortable top notes, it seems that he is not entirely at home in this repertoire. His handling of phrasing is sometimes less elegant than one would expect in bel canto. As for John Relyea, the role of Raimondo requires a voice lower and larger than his. Both low-voiced singers are good artists, but it seems there has been some carelessness about the casting for this revival of Nicolas Joël's production. Also, the stage direction is often unimaginative and the choir and orchestra sounded under-rehearsed (especially in the opening scene) and it is hardly Edoardo Müller's fault if he is no Karajan. Routine conducting has been the tradition with this opera. Unfortunately, the exquisite sets and costumes of Ezio Frigerio and Franca Squarciapino cannot work all the magic alone.

Thursday, October 27th 2005

Singing down the time tunnel

Watching old videos with L. Price, Bergonzi, Simionato, one can't help wondering how it would be to witness those performance live in colours. Well, if you had been at the Met yesterday, I guess you could have had an idea. Framed by Sonja Frisell's Cecil B. de Mille-like grandiose depiction of Egypt, the old-style (plump physique de rôle included) cast could certainly make you believe that we were 50 years back in time, especially in the dB department.

Aida is an opera hard to cast - everybody knows that - especially the title role. The requirement of a dramatic soprano with floating top notes and flexibility is almost an academic hypothesis, and the result is that arguably no singer so far has met with complete success in the role, although many have left a flashing impression in it. Michèle Crider is no exception to the rule. This is an artist whose Met debut I was able to witness, when she sung Butterfly in 1997. Since then her artistry has developed a lot. Crider today is a fully matured singer who knows all her assets and liabilities and has no uneasiness about taking shortcuts to reach her goals. As it is, hers is a true soprano lirico spinto with powerful thrilling top notes. The rest of her voice, as expected, is lighter in quality and she has to put some pressure on her middle register and plays dangerously with chest resonance to get to the bottom of the tessitura. As a result, gear changing in the passaggio is far from smooth. I have to confess I was not really excited about her Dinah-Washington-like snarling down there, especially in moments when she's not necessarily angry. In her favour, one might say she knows the moment where she should sound "lirico". Then she produces a more focused and firm (and beautiful) sound and proves to know how to weave her legato. She also works hard for refinement and a fixed sometimes wiry piano stands in for true mezza voce. Many of these drawbacks were certainly compensated by her charisma and energy. Also, it is undeniably thrilling to see a voice forceful enough crowning Verdi's big ensembles without losing tonal quality.

This is particularly praiseworthy when the seconda donna that evening is Dolora Zajick, even not in her best shape. The voice seemed to be on an on/off regime. In the on moments it certainly lived to its legendary reputation, especially in act II. However, her uneasiness was noticeable until she was announced to be suddenly victim to a strong allergy and about to be replaced by Malgorzata Walewska, whose dark plush mezzo has its gravitational center closer to contralto than to soprano. As a result, a certain want in volume could be felt. That said, the exotic colour of her voice and her energy certainly helped her to win the admiration of the audience, who granted her enthusiastic applauds.

Everytime I see Salvatore Licitra, I have the opportunity to gauge how this singer is working on his technique and improving his expressive devices. The voice itself is irresistible - pleasant, spontaneous, free and naturally spacious. His tenor is simply ideal for the Italian repertoire. However, as much as Plácido Domingo, the extreme top notes are something he has to deal with - and this is also an area where one can see novelties. Now he has developed a not entirely perfect ability to work on dynamics and tried to follow the instruction of morendo, notably in the end of Celeste Aida. Sometimes he would insert this effect in places not entirely suitable, as a kid displaying a toy he has just been given. But that's a minor complaint, considering his generally elegant phrasing.

As Amonasro, Lado Ataneli displays a forceful and firm baritone, not entirely prone to legato, especially in the high register. He was also made to look silly painted in black. This made particularly poor sense since one had an African American in the part of the Egyptian King (the outstanding deep-toned Morris Robinson). In the part of Ramfis, Paata Burchuladze was in firmer voice than usual these days, but his diction is simply impossible.

Amazing as it may seem, the most impressive contribution to this evening's success was James Conlon's flexible conducting. The finish in the orchestral sound was noticeable and the most animated moments displayed Toscanini-like athletic precision, although the American conductor showed he could mellow with masterly control for the most intimate moments. Because of that, act III did not sound as an interlude to public scenes, but a powerful key moment in the opera.

All in all, although I have certainly enjoyed my time journey, I am curious to see the same production with the European leading ladies - Hasmik Papian, whose powerful Norma in the broadcast from Washington was certainly appealing, and Yvonne Naef, the Brangäne this season at the Paris Opera.

Wednesday, October 26th 2005

Italians do it better

When historically informed practices appeared in the northern parts of Europe, many Italians musician identified with the traditional way of playing Vivaldi felt that they would lose their jobs. CD-buyers viewed performances that now seem to be of dubious quality, such as Mr. and Mrs. Harnoncourt's, as a revelation, condemning I Musici, I Solisti Veniti and I Whatever to oblivion. However, time is always the best judge: once Italians got into the HIP movement, not only did they prove that they still play the best Italian baroque around, but they also occasionally show that they can certainly compete in baroque repertoire in general. Fabio Biondi and L'Europa Galante were evidence of that in their concert in the Alice Tully Hall. To start with, even if they have been playing together for a while, they haven't lost at all the freshness and joy of making music. Their warm and animated interaction was in the heart of the exciting display of talents there and one could point out that the interaction was not limited to the stage. Biondi would often look people in the audience in the eye and one could feel that some of his decisions about tempo and phrasing were meant to provoke reactions rather than to state a pre-conceived approach. Because of that, the much abused Vivaldi's Quattro Stagioni shone as brand-new in the hands of these Italian musicians. Wasn't it cheeky to highlight the raindrops and reduce the leading melody into pianissimo in the slow movement of Winter? Some people in bad mood might complain that Biondi's solo gave effect rather than polish pride of place, but even for those people the unbridled energy offered by Europa Galante must have been irresistible. The program also involved a powerful performance of Mozart's Symphony no.11, beside Vivaldi's Sinfonia from Il Tamerlano and Telemann's Don Quijote suite.

Sunday, October 23rd 2005

Huppert and the hype

Those who read this blog know that I adore Isabelle Huppert, the French actress whose enigmatic intellectual approach to her roles is the essence of what theatrical dreams are made of. And that is why I have always wanted to see her in the theatre. She has been in São Paulo last year but I couldn't get tickets and then she happens to be in New York in the same play and I felt that the gods of theatre never let one theatre-lover down. However, this is the kind of gift only a Greek god could have imagined. Sarah Kane's Psychose 4:48 is a nut hard to open - to say the least.

The controversial British playwright who dedicated her career to shock the bourgeosie until she finally hanged herself at the age of 28 sounds like the right material for a play. She herself had that idea. Only her highly experimental approach to it may raise some eyebrows: the scoop is being inside the mind of a suicidal depressive rather than watching it. As a result, the very structure of what a play is is shaken by the lack of structure of a deranged mind. There is no action, no characters, no sense of temporal progression and ultimately the audience experiences the suffering of being depressed and lacking anything to grasp to in order to make some sense.

As staged by Claude Régy, Psychose 4:48 has one actress with ordinary costumes (leather trousers and a blue T-shirt) static from beginning to the end, but for the movement of hands. There is a screen behind which an actor sometimes appears. He might be her doctor, the lover or friend she would like to have - it is hard to guess. There is a subtle and complex use of lighting, under the form of a square projection that changes radically the shadows on the actress's face. On the screen, random numbers are twice projected. There are also soft sound effects and a song. That's it.

It seems that Kane viewed her text as a borderline case between poetry and theatre. In that sense, Huppert recites it with a superhuman control of rhythm and intonation. The slow delivery of her lines somewhat puzzled me though. Was it a device in order to drain the text of any emotional content (after all, the person on stage states she is under the effect of heavy anti-depressives), to show grogginess or is it only a matter of usability to the American audience? It is hard to tell. The thing is - as much as this is a difficult exercise for any actor, having to stand still for two hours and performing a suicidal only through voice and hands in a "score of theatrical gestures" reduced to minimal emotionality - this is the kind of performance one expects from a young actress, someone willing to prove its talent and establish a personality in the theatrical scene. It is obvious that Huppert does it superbly (ultimately because this less of a challenge for her), but I guess I would have liked to see Huppert doing something only consummate actresses can do. I have read she is playing Hedda Gabler in Paris this season - that is a good example.

However, I guess I was a victim of the wrong publicity applied to this event. The Brooklyn Academy of Music has widely passed away the idea that this was a cool opportunity to see live a French movie diva. And experimenting depressive state almost in the flesh with supertitles has no glamour about it. Although I felt ready to shift into that mood, a great deal of people in the audience was not. I understand it might be hard to concentrate in a play in a language one doesn't master, but I had the impression most people there could speak some French. The thing is that the hype about the event is basically incompatible with the mood of this play. The woman next to me chewed gum with such energy during the whole play that I felt my suicidal mood turning into homicidal. The other girl next to me was making company to her intellectual boyfriend and expressed her annoyance changing the positions of her legs all the way, occasionally kicking me. The constant noise of people abandoning their seats and searching for some entertainment somewhere else was certainly upsetting. I guess that is why Huppert had such a distant look about her while receiving her applauses. I guess she didn't take all that excitement as legitimate. In any case, I'll speak for myself: even if I hoped to see something more personal with such a great actress, I have seen her in a difficult role in a play which certainly will be one of the most unusual and unsettling nights at the theatre I'll experiment for a while.

Saturday, October 22nd 2005

Così si fa

James Levine's credentials as a Mozartian are widely acknowledged. In his hands, the score of a Mozart opera is given the apparently incompatible virtues of suppleness and rhythmic propulsion - all of that dictated by a deep knowledge of theatre, what is of paramount importance in the drammi giocosi by Da Ponte. In this sense, Levine's perfect understand of shifting in moods is admirable. It is true that a sculptor needs the right marble - and in Levine's case this is the Vienna Philharmonic, as his rightly famous recordings prove. Although the Met's orchestra is sincerely dedicated to its maestro, it is undeniable that Mozart exuberant passagework is still hard work for string players. That said, Levine is the kind of conductor who helps his musicians to make their best - and his cast should certainly appreciate that, especially in the trickiest passages, where his beat always came handy in order to give them time to breathe or to develop a line without making violence to the flow of phrasing. In this sense, Lesley Koenig's production is also most welcome in its unobtrusiveness and elegance. Only director Robin Guarino should bear in mind that this kind of comedy is the one you smile rather than laugh with. This can be particularly bothersome when a particularly difficult roulade or trill is shadowed by the audience's hilarity.

Barbara Frittoli's vocal production these days is not immediately compatible with Mozartian repertoire. And that is not because she has poor technique, but rather because her technique is a bit unconventional. The tone has a certain veiled quality that takes to mezza voce almost automatically. One could point out that she is also over-reliant on that ability in order to get away with the most difficult points, where her clean divisions are always a blessing. In any case, once you adjust to her exotic velvety shadowy and ultimately sexy sound, her Fiordiligi is definitely appealing. Unlike most exponents of the part, Frittoli is a sunny only half-serious girl, more practical and ready to some entertainment than we are used to see.

The lovely Magdalena Kozena was a perky Dorabella, sung in her oboe-like flexible high mezzo and a powerful amount of imagination and charm. Although these sisters' voice were nicely contrasted, the blending in her duets was simply admirable. More than that, it is praiseworthy that Kozena sounded almost as idiomatic as her Italian colleague. The result was crispy recitatives and a sense of true interaction between both artists.

Alternating Fenton with Ferrando may be a feat in itself, but it may have had something to do with the time Matthew Polenzani needed to focus his high register for Mozartian needs. Because of that, Un'aura amorosa sounded uncomfortable and uninspiring. However, act II revealed the American tenor at his best. Both Ah, lo vegg'io and Tradito, schernito were sung with golden liquid tone even in the exposed high notes and his interaction with Frittoli in their duet was also top class. Even next to such enticing tenorism, Mariusz Kwiecien can boast to have stolen the show with his firm flexible and dark-hued baritone. He is certainly going places.

There is no need to say Thomas Allen was a Don Alfonso to the manner born. Only an occasional lack of space in the bottom register could be singled out in a virtually perfect performance. He too can boast to have idiomatic Italian, as one could see in his scenes with Nuccia Focile's Despina. It is a pity, though, that this spirited Italian soprano no longer has the technical finish to this repertoire. Some overacting had to do what voice alone could not.

Friday, October 21st 2005

Der Fall Falstaff

Although one can always acquire a taste, sometimes you really have to work hard. So here goes my confession: I don't like Falstaff. I know all the reasons why I should, but the ear can be deaf to reasoning in matters like that. With that in mind, considering the good opinion friends of good taste have on this season's Met Falstaff, I have bought a ticket on the level of price I reserve to the operas _I_ like. Well, it seems I am condemned not to like it - at least in this life - since James Levine's conducting was indeed admirable. Richard Strauss, whose opinion is way way more significant than mine, was a great admirer of the work and wrote a letter to Verdi expressing his admiration. In this sense, Levine could find the connection between both composers on producing rich orchestral sound perfectly descriptive in its instrumental effects. Sometimes the richness of sound would pose problems to singers. But that's also a Straussian feature, one could argue. In that sense, maybe a more exuberant-voiced cast would have been helpful. As it is, only Stephanie Blythe, a spirited Ms. Quickly, could sail above the deluxe strings without any effort in her strong focused and penetrating contralto. A major performance. Matthew Polenzani's dulcet but positive Fenton was also most welcome. Maria Zifchak's firm and pleasant mezzo is worthy of mention too - and that is a compliment for any Meg. On the other hand, the charming and musicianly Patricia Racette had very little operating space, to start with. The result was a permanent colourless tone. The same could be said of Heidi Grant Murphy's Nanetta, who was able to succeed nonetheless in producing the necessarily ethereal pianissimi. As for Roberto Frontali, his Italianate tone and energy helped him through having to sing Ford in a big theatre.

Regarding Bryn Terfel, it is hard to say something definitive about his performance. First of all, it seemed it was not a good night for him. He had some trouble with one or two top notes until he got entirely grey-voiced in the forest scene. However, before that, his handsome bass-baritone was pleasant all the way, even in the poor patches. Although Terfel has developed into something far less artificial than his studio recording with Abbado, it is still something "from outside to inside", built rather from an intellectual approach for something that should be completely spontaneous. When one think of the great Italian exponent of the parts, natural flamboyance is a key element of all that. In this sense, Terfel's self-studied extroverts placed him far from pole position in this competition. Of course, the part of Falstaff might be approached from other points-of-view. The excellent Gabriel Bacquier, in Götz Friedrich's film, for example, builds his Falstaff from a Baron Ochs-like decadent patrician perspective incredibly funny in its seriousness, something which would become Terfel's nobility of tone and somewhat narcissistic temper.

Finally, I don't know if I was really keen on the revival of Zeffirelli 1960's production. It certainly looked liked its age, not because it was in bad shape (it has been entirely refurbished), but because it looks like those pale photographs of productions we see in books. Something like "Gabriella Tucci's Alice is wooed by Giuseppe Taddei's Falstaff in this 1957 production in Florence". Maybe I had just set my mind something more glamorous.

Wednesday, October 19th 2005

Una volta… e due…

My heart is big enough for two Cenerentole and there was I at the Met for a second exposure to that weirdly charming production, now seen from a bit farther than before, what seemed to be indifferent to Olga Borodina's vocal generosity. Not quite so to Barry Banks, whose tenor sounded deprived of tone at such a distance. This is my favourite comic opera, since it represents the kind of inimitable funny/touching style that would be the hallmark of Italian comedy movies. In that sense, tonight Borodina appeared from a very special point-of-view. Although she still looks OK, as my friend Daniel would say, the Russian mezzo's curvilinear figure has today more curves than lines. As it is, the very fact that she looked plain was a dramatic point. Most Cenerentole are made to look frumpy in their chores and gorgeous in the ball (think of Von Stade or Larmore), as if some fragrance could wash away the bad patches. Borodina's Cinderella is basically a strong good girl and knows how to keep the good mood no matter what. That's her charm and that's why a prince practical enough to devise a scheme such as changing places with his valet would fall in love with her. Because of that, Borodina's closing scene makes particular sense- it is easy to forgive her insensitive relatives, because she had never felt bitter against them.
I would add that Borodina was also cunning to realize that Rossini's Cinderella is no fool. She has her temper and is ready to some innocent mischief. That is why that, helped by such a deluxe mezzo, when she says that her revenge is her forgiveness, her family is scared enough. In 100% Italian common sense, they know that being forgiven is being a debtor. Well, enough of presumptuous silliness and back to work.

Monday, October 17th 2005

A bit of everything from Munich

I have listened yesterday to a new disc from Farao Classics involving highlights from the most acclaimed productions from the Bavarian State Opera in the last eight years. Curiously, the composer most frequent in it is Handel - and that's all for the best. Since I've had been curious about some of the items, this was a must-buy for me. To start with, the choice of program could be better. Some items are tantalizing, while others are unnecessary, such as Martin Gantner's unventful's O du mein holder Abendstern. Dorothea Röschmann's expressive Rodelinda is available on DVD, but we could have sampled her Almirena. Susan Gritton's Se pieta must have been great live, but in recordings is no competition to Lynne Dawson or Magdalena Kozena. However, Ann Murray's gutsy Crude Furie from Serse is truly exciting in its flaws. The same cannot be said of Paul Nylon's Tu vivi from Ariodante. It is the work of a craftsman, but I guess more exciting things may have happened in these eight years, such as David Daniel's Nerone and Anna Caterina Antonacci's Poppea, who deserved a larger share of this disc, as much as Anja Harteros' touching Desdemona (here deprived of her Ave Maria). Vesselina Kasarova knows how to thrill an audience with Amours viens render à mon âme from Orphée et Eurydice, but indulges in some grotesque effects. Finally, Peter Seiffert's Siegmund could have been shown in a more positive light. Here he sounds tired after a long first act. The same can't be said of Waltraud Meier, who is in great shape.

A bit puzzling is Anne Sofie von Otter's recital of baroque songs with lute and harpsichord. Her voice has finally lost the sheen it used to have, but she cunningly disguises throughout, with the notable exception of heavily aspirated coloratura. Curiously, she holds her own in the Italian songs, where her Lieder-singer intelligence and spirit keep the show going on. Sometimes more than that. In the English songs, she is a bit less at ease. A purer tone could have worked the magic - and artifice often does not replace nature. For example, in Sweeter than roses, the less acknowledged Kathleen Battle goes straight to the heart of the matter, offering intoxicating sensuousness and a more beguiling triumph of love in gleaming fioritura, whereas Von Otter sounds slightly artificial and contrived in her divisions. Despite all that, I still enjoy the disc: it is an elegant performance of a well-chosen program, with a truly fine artist.

Monday, October 17th 2005

O wie gerne bleibe ich bei Dir

Daphne has always been, in my opinion, the hidden jewel among the unknown late Strauss operas and I guess that Renée Fleming has applied to a membership to the selected club of Straussian sopranos by championing it. Leonie Rysanek has done so with Frau ohne Schatten, Lisa della Casa with Arabella, Gundula Janowitz with Ariadne, Kiri Te Kanawa with Capriccio and Lucia Popp with basically all of it. As it is, this example of artistic generosity is most welcome and concert performances following the studio recordings with such a mediated diva will certainly help to place Daphne in the repertoire. As it is, although the part requires a more spacious soprano, such as Maria Reining's, the truth is that the most famous exponents of the part, at least in recordings, tend to be lyric soprano tout court. In that sense, Fleming has the advantage of an absolutely creamy rounded tone, comfortable with the fast articulation for declamatory passages and readily taking to legato in the high-lying melodic moments. It is praiseworthy that she has really decided to delve into Straussian style and eschew the jazzy mannerisms displayed in her Arabellas and Marschallins. Here she is ready to take a pure line while still keeping some spirit. Compared to the recording, though, the voice tends to lose some colour in the more dramatic passages. The middle register doesn't come across as clearly as it should either, compromising some of the understanding of the text. That said, her performance is generally lovely and charming. If one has Hilde Güden in mind, a certain bright quality allowing for a more positive delivery of the text may be missed. Now if one has Lucia Popp in mind, one will miss an interpretation more verbally intense and a wider resource to tone-colouring, not to mention the important girlish impression in this role about chastity and innocence. All in all, this is an important step in Fleming's career, in the sense that she is on her way to find the right balance between stylishness and expression in a repertoire close to her vocal nature.

As Apollo, Johann Botha is probably one of the most easily produced tenors visiting the part. As much as in the recordings, his top notes do not blossom as one might expect, but he knows how to keep legato and tries to play with dynamics. Those who know Böhm's recording will be forever spoiled by the sheer charisma of James King, not to mention the vocal lushness of Fritz Wunderlich. That said, Roberto Saccà offered his best performance ever. Here, his focused tone and fearless approach to the role were all for the best. A thoroughly beautiful performance. As much as the excellent Michael Schade in the studio recording, he is no Wunderlich, but who else is? Robert Holl has not the dark sound required by the role, but was able to pull out a plausible performance out of his soft-grained yet forceful bass. The other roles were splendidly cast. The statuesque Anna Larsson's deep contralto is impressive in itself, Julia Kleiter's First Maid is the evidence that there is no small role, only small singers. I am eager to listen to her Mozart. There is no need to say Eike Wilm Schulte as First Shepherd is an example of embarras de richesse.

Nevertheless, the reason why this was above all a beautiful performance is Semyon Bychkov's exemplary conducting of the WDR Symphony Orchestra Cologne. His vision is grander in manner than both Böhm and Haitink, but still keeping the necessary clarity enveloped in exquisite orchestral sound, positively indulgent in sensuous slow tempi in the most romantic passages.

Saturday, October 15th 2005

Frustrated in New York

Yes. I am one of the unhappy few who couldn't get tickets to Cecilia Bartoli's Carnegie Hall recital. If someone knows someone who doesn't want his or her ticket anymore, this someone could be an angel and tell him or her that I want to buy it…

Friday, October 14th 2005

Lots of fun with Rossini

Although it is difficult to see the point in the Magritte-like cold elegance of Cesare Lievi's production for Rossini's La Cenerentola, Sharon Thomas provided a vertiginous crazy comedy rhythm that puts that in perspective: isn't it true that most people have a certain clichéd vision of Italy as a place of exquisite design and larger-than-life comicality? Although ensembles were not exactly polished, Antonello Allemandi's theatrical conducting, agile in a comfortable way, was an extra asset for the Marx Brothers-like atmosphere.

Announced to be indisposed, Olga Borodina pulled out nonetheless a vocally resplendent performance in the title role - only some harshness in the very extreme top notes made me believe that she could be better than what seemed to me already fantastic. Although her manners are a bit grand for poor-thing Cinderella, listening to such an exquisite opulent voice move so gracefully through Rossinian phrases is something every admirer of bel canto should do. Rarely has the triumph of goodness sounded as triumphant as in the crowning glory of the Russian mezzo's rendition of the closing scene. As her prince charming, the tiny Barry Banks plunged into his part with absolute bravura. The tone is somewhat metallic, but his firm and bright top notes are truly welcome. Dandini was sung by the funny Simone Alberghini, whose tone is too dangerously close to wooliness, but flexible and sizeable enough. Moreover, he is a fine comedy actor. Simone Alaimo's Magnifico is the product of a consummate artist who knows the alpha and omega of buffo singing. Finally, Ildar Abdrazakov displayed impressive vocal resources as Alidoro, a true bass firm and even from bottom to top. A delightful show.

Ariadne auf Naxos

Elijah Moshinski's Ariadne is a production of generalized elegance, something a Hallmark could have concocted for a Valentine's day gift card. In its superficiality, the drama, the Geheimnis der Verwandlung of the opera seria plot is entirely missed. What seems to have concentrated both Moshinski's and the imaginative stage director Laurie Feldman's interest is the interplay between comedy and tragedy (comedy getting the lion's share). In that sense, the acting talent of all singers concerned (with the possible exception of the primo tenore) is most helpful. Few Ariadnes could boast to mark such an interesting presence during the arlequinades and Zerbinetta's aria as Violeta Urmana does.
Kyril Petrenko's conducting seems to have found inspiration in Karajan's old EMI mono recording. After an agile sparkling Prologue, the opera itself sounded quite frustrating. The phrasing is often blurred, dissonances underplayed and the sense of structure leaves something to be desired. Because of that, the closing scene does not build to a climax, its harmonic resolutions coming to no effect since no harmonic tension had paved the way for it. This is particularly harmful in Gibt es kein Hinüber?, where the undulation figures in the harp and keyboard instruments is supposed to create the atmosphere of sublimation essential to that music. I might be picky, but I still have clear memories (and the broadcast recorded on CD) of Sinopoli's La Scala performances to show me that, as much as Ariadne herself, in the end of the opera, the audience must feel transfigured by that experience.
This sort of lassitude seems to have pervaded Violeta Urmana's performance. Though regally sung in her rich mezzo that takes beautifully to mezza voce, her Ariadne sounded amazingly detached. I suspect that a certain lack of liquidity in her phrasing has something to do with that. Strauss himself mentioned a certain Schwimmen when speaking of Lotte Lehmann, the ability to impregnate the sound with meaning while playing with the note values and tone coloring. It seems perverse to make such a complaint in a role usually poorly sung, but it is only that Urmana is the kind of singer about whom one has always high expectations. On the other hand, Diana Damrau was an irresistible Zerbinetta. It might be said that her performance has no allure - the tone is not appealing in itself, there is a certain lack of focus and her trilling abilities are dubious - and that's precisely the appeal of her performance. In her hands and voice, Zerbinetta is a matter of sex, not of coquetterie and philosophical seduction. Therefore, her rather athletic and graphic approach - thoroughly German in its overt charmlessness - does make sense with the help of her outstanding acting abilities. An intelligent and original if not entirely beguiling view.
In a world apart of her colleagues, Susan Graham proves to be a seasoned Straussian, floating the high lying passages with poise and sensitivity, even if her voice is not as compact as it used to be, especially in the lower reaches. When I saw Jon Villars six years ago as Bacchus at La Scala, it was already a matter of skill rather than grace. These days, only the effort remains. It is a big powerful voice, but the phrasing is contrived, the vocal production is tremulous and there are not lots of space for musicality in such a context.
Finally, secondary roles were splendidly cast, Thomas Allen a positive Musikmeister, beautifully sung and acted. Christopher Maltmas was a virile energetic Harlekin and Nicole Heaston, Olga Makarina and Susanna Poretzky were truly perfect as the trio of nymphs.

Saturday, October 8th 2005

Manon

Jean-Pierre Ponnelle's production of Manon has the right touch of kitsch which is the essence of the charm of Massenet's most famous opera. In this sense, Jesus López-Cobos grand romantic approach, based on rich string sounds and true Schwung in the most emotional scenes is proper to a piece that may sound bloodless in less theatrical hands. This emotional engagement is in the essence of Renée Fleming's performance in the title role. The part is usually associated with brighter and lighter voices and Fleming's effortless floating velvety lyric soprano involves a more womanly approach to this 16-year-old seductress. Taking all that in consideration, I guess I realize now the essential contradiction in this soprano's artistry: although there are all the elements of the angelic in her exquisite creamy voice, there is also a strong element of carnality that is a key element in her singing. Because of that, she was able to play alternatively the angel or the she-devil with amazing skill. Her Adieu notre petite table was extremely touching and intimate and in the seduction scene at St. Sulpice was passionate and finally irresistible. At the Cours de la Reine, her trills and scales were immaculate, but some top notes could be more poised. Her diction could also be clearer throughout the opera. In the acting department, there is nothing to be desired. The development from Lolita-like teasing to downright vicious guile was expertly done, and the Lana Turner-like sexy narcissism in act III was really stimulating. Marcelo Álvarez's spontaneous beautiful rich voice was also a pleasure for the ears. His sensitive use of dynamics and the expressive colouring of the text were something to marvel. His Des Grieux was more positive than most and his "vision" in act II accordingly more piano than mezza voce. Hung Yun's Lescaut was certainly animated, but the spacious voice was not as "friendly" as his character.

Friday, October 7th 2005

As you know, New York is one of my very favourite places in the world and I've had this wonderful opportunity to stay here for a while. The first thing I can say is that it is starkly difference to have a normal life routine (including working) in a place from just visiting a place and perform the activities of a flâneur. Anyway, my first impressions are wonderful. I have met excellent people at work and my only complaint is that it is too damp and hot here. I feel back in Rio!

NTP Carmen

Although thermometers register temperatures higher than what I expected, the Zeffirelli production for the Met is quite tame. On trying to turn down the kitsch and present something more realistic, Zeffirelli ended on doing something too beige and lazy to stick to the memory. I cannot help comparing this Carmen to the last one I saw, in Leipzig, when the production really could bring out the slightly oily and intoxicating - elegant in a menacing way - atmosphere real Spain exudes. This feature pervades every aspect of the performance: Philippe Jordan's conducting is surprisingly colourful, highlighting woodwind and brass, but somehow insensitive in its rhythmic straightjacket and refusal to create an atmosphere. Because of that, the closing scene sounded particularly uneventful. A bit more rubato and richer string sound could help. Replacing an indisposed Milena Kitic, Spanish mezzo Nancy Fabiola Herrera displayed a seductive fruity flexible and finely knit voice, a bit small in scale for the big hall. The result is a tendency to discoloration in the middle range and in the most outspoken moments. Her Carmen is strongly rooted in the hands-on-hips cliché, but that is done with such conviction that one is inclined to take another look at an outdated view. Especially when it is embodied by such a sexy singer.
Ruth Ann Swenson's voice has lost some focus since she has decided to be a Verdian singer. Pianissimi are no longer easy and the top register now has a 1,2,3, go! approach, not to mention that her low notes are no longer smoothly connected to the rest of her registers. That said, it is still a voice of undeniable charm used with good taste and sensitivity. Marco Berti's spontaneous and reliable tenor is a bit tight and his phrasing too cupo for comfort. A Flower Song deprived of legato and affection was the immediate result. As for Jean-Luc Chaignaud, as much as any high baritone, he wants tone in the most insistent part of the role's tessitura, but his macho attitude was efficient enough. Finally, Sandra Lopez's metallic Frasquita was the opposite of a cherry on top of the whipped cream on a sundae.

Thursday, October 6th 2005

 

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