Weblog - Archives

 

• A story worth being told twice

One of the great things about music is the fact that one's idea of a piece is not based on one view, but rather as piling up of many performances either live or in recordings. Movies rarely offer this opportunity. I remember when Milos Forman's Valmont was released, I could not see the point - Stephen Frears's Dangerous Liaisons was supposed to be an all-round perfect movie. When I finally made my mind to see the "other" movie, I remember I thought that, while Frears had the more immediately powerful film out of his concentration in the cruel game between those characters, Forman's wider scope brought more variety to the story-telling, if also a lighter approach.

I am writing this because today I have finally seen Douglas McGrath's Infamous. As everyone else, I have seen Bennett Miller's Capote and found it excellent. The question was how I would find the other movie. At the end of the movie, I couldn't help remembering the whole Valmont/Dangerous Liaisons affair. There is no doubt Capote is the sharper, darker and more formidable film - and that is probably why one is tempted to find Infamous more immediately easier to relate to - it has a touch of sense of humour, to start with. Also, it has a more didactic approach to the importance of the book In Cold Blood that in Capote, where the book and its author were shown in more organic inter-relation. Of course, the lightness and the userfriendliness are hallmarks of director Douglas McGrath - his Emma has a congeniality and uptodate-ness British versions have missed, but on the other hand his Nicholas Nickleby played down all the darkness of Dickens's book. At first, Infamous seems to be more horizontal, while Capote is more vertical - in the sense that the former would be more wide-ranging, while the latter is more structurally focused. But a second viewing proves this to be wrong.

The Truman Capote of Bennett Miller's movie is far more complex than the one in Douglas McGrath's - and this has nothing to do with the fact that Philip Seymour-Hoffman's character building is far more complex and enigmatic than Toby Jones's, whose impulses, desires and motivations are reduced to search of sensationalism and than a fatal infatuation for his book's "object" in an almost pygmalionic way. Miller's Capote's motivations are far more deep-running - his interaction with Perry Smith more dangerous and inexplicable. In any case, McGrath deserves compliments for redeeming Sandra Bullock in her best performance ever. Although Catherine Keener is someone I like a priori, Bullock found a tridimensionality in her Harper Lee better actresses than her sometimes fail to produce. Also, in her three-minute act, Gwyneth Paltrow not only sings beautifully, but is also truly magnetic.

All in all, if you ask me if Capote is better than Infamous, I'd be tempted to say yes - it is more organically conceived and it ends on being a more perfect (in the etimological sense of being "completely finished") work of art. But if you ask me which one I would incorporate into my DVD collection, my answer would be "both".

Saturday, June 16th 2007

• Long time no post

Life has been busy, but one can always sacrifice 30 minutes of sleep to update his blog - so here it goes. The discography of Beethoven's Fidelio has been updated with the review of Colin Davis's recording with the London Symphony Orchestra.

• Time will tell

Who can resist Handel's Il Trionfo del Tempo e del Disinganno? Allegories always tend to be kitsch, in the sense that their scope is always too wide and they end on failing to be entirely satisfying in each individual aspect of their multifaceted selves. But Handel has always been expert in "crossovers" (think of Semele or Hercules) and, on giving "personalities" to concepts, he and the Cardinal Pamphili were also able to create a vivid sense of theatre rarely available in "moralities" such as this one. It was no surprise to me to read that the Oper Zürich's recent attempt of staging has received successful reviews (by the way, this is a performance that deserves to make into DVD - Cecilia Bartoli's fans could even be a financial encouragement to this release).

I have to confess I have no official recording - I am entirely satisfied with the broadcast from Luzern in which Giovanni Antonini gives this music exactly what it needs with the help of the vivid playing of the Giardino Armonico. While I write this, I am listening to Emmanuelle Haïm's new recording and I can help thinking that Haïm's flamboyant manners miss the idea of "right proportion" which is in the core of what beauty and truth are. This is no Platonic jeu de mots - Haïm's recording is exquisite but there is very little truth in it. Among a miriad of self-indulgent details, the inexorable development from physical beauty to spiritual beauty implied in the text is simply abandoned. This is a mistake not made by Antonini, whose performance is an organically crafted voyage to the aria Tu del ciel ministro eletto.

In Haïm's recording, Natalie Dessay probably offers the most impressively sung rendition of the role of Bellezza one is bound to hear. It is true she could have clearer diction, but that is irrelevant. Her voice is charming all the way, her technique is faultless - but her Beauty goes to the end of the work as coquettish as in Fido specchio. Compare her to Antonini's Laura Aikin and you'll see my point. Cardinal Pamphili, as any good Italian (you just have to visit the Palazzo Pamphili in Rome to see my point), never says beauty should be supressed - it shoud only abandon worldly concerns and vows itself to the spiritual world. The self-contained way with which Laura Aikin conforms her sensuous creamy soprano to angelic purity is a point in itself - a moment of unforgettable spiritual quality and an example this often neglected soprano's artistry. Ann Hallenberg (in Haïm's performance) is immaculate in the role of Pleasure and it is hardly her fault if Véronique Gens (in Luzern) is rather more convincing in her irresistibly sensuous velvety soprano (I always find Véronique Gens irresistible, even when she is not in her best days). The role of the Disinganno is taken in both performances by one of my very favourite contraltos in the baroque repertoire, Sonia Prina - so lucky me. Pavol Breslik (for Haïm) is a capable Tempo, but I am afraid Cristoph Prégardien (in good voice) is more pleasant to the ears.

In any case, I feel curious to listen to Minkowski's and Alessandrini's CDs - Natalie Stutzmann and Sara Mingardo are always worth while the detour. I am not so sure about Jennifer Smith's Pleasure, though. But I won't say anything before listening to the CDs.

• Oh, come on!

Why Anna Nebtrebko has this special quality of making people env... angry? You won't hear me saying she is perfect or that she is the kind of singer whose artistry is so outstanding that one is eager to forgive her faults - but, come on!, she belongs to the very good singers in activity these days. The voice itself is lovely - rich, creamy, homogeneous and yet ductile. She is not the most individual or illuminating singer around, but she has good taste and is always pleasant to the ears. She even has some attitude. And, YES, she is gorgeous - and that's all for the best. After all, you have to look at her while she is singing! If she sang like that and was actually ugly, I am afraid I would still like her. I remember when one girl from New Zealand showed up in London to sing the creamiest and noblest Countess Almaviva in a long time and happened to be really good-looking too, nobody actually forgave her that. Maybe I am being unfair, but I have the impression many dislike the fact that someone who could make it the easy way (i.e., by way of looks) actually chooses to step into the territory of hard-working people. Curiously, this does not happen with guys. When a tenor or a baritone is good-looking, the world seems to smile on him. Take, for example, Jonas Kaufmann. Reviews always tend to take the fact that he is handsome as a plus. Although I have seen very good things with him, I think his Alfredo at the Met (with Angela Gheorghiu) could be matured, but everybody said he is a promising artist with good looks and stage attitude who will eventualy reach an optimal level in that repertoire. When Anna Netrebko took her "immature" Elvira to the Met, some people truly found she deserved life imprisonment. Isn't that sexism? So when a good-looking guy takes a "serious" job, this is counted as an advantage; when a good-looking girl takes a "serious job", she is just an arriviste?! I am sorry, but I think the hard criticism on Anna Netrebko is simply biased in an ugly way...

Thursday, June 14th 2007

• Going south

Buenos Aires is always fun - even when it means having to take really early flights! This time my schedule was quite more relaxed than last time (and I guess that was all for the best) and I couldn't see again some places worth while a second visit, but I had the opportunity of going to the famous bookstore El Ateneo, where one can buy brand new CDs for the price of second-hand items in Academy Records in New York, and a charming Scandinavian restaurant in the neighbourhood of Palermo named Olsen. Here are some pictures.

Although the Colón is actually being restored, the season is being carried on at the Teatro Coloseo, the white-and-blue auditorium of which has great acoustics and 60's style architecture. The opera to be performed was Verdi's La Traviata and I was curious to see the Uruguayan soprano Maria José Siri, the winner of a competition in Dresden. However, singers had been reallocated and I got Victoria Loukianetz instead. I had known Loukianetz from the RAI's telecast of Mozart's Die Zauberflöte (with Andrea Rost, Paul Groves, Simon Keenlyside, Matthias Höhle, La Scala's chorus and orchestra and Riccardo Muti) and have to confess a certain disappointment - I previously had bad experience with the former Queen-of-the-Night-type of Violetta. Unfortunately, my disappointment would soon be confirmed. Loukianetz is of course a capable singer who dispatches her divisions with some accuracy, but there is no technique available to transform a light coloratura into a lyric coloratura. The result was an unreliable low register, acidulous tone from mezzo forte on and a disturbing absence of legato. To make things worse, the singer had decided to compensate her low-calory vocal nature with massive overstatement. The approach eschewed all spontaneity and lacked pathos. Sempre Libera sounded effortful and unmusical, the act II scene with Germont, père, rather gusty than touching and by act III one really didn't care if Violeta was going to die or not as long as the poor lady producing her notes could enjoy some repose to her voice. I wonder if a lighter, cleaner and more melodical approach would benefit her - and listening to Mirella Freni in Gardelli's recording always makes me think this can always be a valid approach if one has lovely enough a voice. Her Alfredo was the Argentine tenor Enrique Folger. His voice has a Spieltenor nasal quality into it, but opens beautifully in the top register. However, he flubbed some high notes and noticeably lost confidence. Baritone Omar Carrión proved to be the most interesting singer in the cast as Germont. Although his voice tended to loose tonal quality in exposed top notes, the sound was generally pleasant and he sang his lines with affection. I feel tempted to praise Guillermo Brizzio's conducting. He has strong architectural sense and knows where he should go forward and when he can indulge into some playing with the tempo, as this kind of music requires. However, his orchestra's sound could be rather messy at times. Eric Vigié's staging involves transposing the scene to the belle époque. This sound bring the dramatic action closer to our sensibilities, but I am afraid it only made it closer to the Merry Widow.

Monday, May 28th 2007

• Singspiel in plenty

I have retouched the discographies of Mozart's Die Zauberflöte and Beethoven's Fidelio due to the inclusion of Welser-Möst's video from Zürich with Elena Mosuc as the Queen of the Night and Matti Salminen as Sarastro and of Rolf Liebermann's film with Anja Silja's Leonore and Richard Cassilly's Florestan.

Sunday, May 20th 2007

• Lukewarm at most

The rather controversial Polish director Krzysztof Kieslowski died before he was able to shoot another trilogy written with his usual collaborator Krzysztof Piesewics. The concept involved films for heaven, hell and purgatory. The first movie was filmed in Italy by German director Tom Tykwer featuring Cate Blanchett and Giovanni Ribisi. I remember I found the imagery beautiful and I like these actors. Truth be said, the film lacked the almost disturbingly unaffected camerawork of his Dekalog series and would rather be classified together with the highly aestheticized approach of the Colours trilogy. Danis Tanovic's L'Enfer would go to the same artsy drawer. The movie open to kaleidoscopic images of birds accompanied by the kind of music that suggests rather farse than drama. This choice of music summarizes my impression of the movie. Telling the story of three sisters tormented by passion, jealousy and loneliness, not to mention a ghastly traumatic event from the past should be more intense than that. WARNING - SPOILER FOLLOWS. Maybe the fact that the crime in the root of all the ensuing events actually never happened explains the farsical approach. However, even if the cause of all that suffering was false, the suffering did exist, and the tv-commercial aesthetics add a cute atmosphere that makes things even shallower. The casting of Emmanuelle Béart, Karin Viard and Marie Gillain is of very little help. These are amazingly talented actresses at their most bureaucratic, reprising clichéed versions of characters they had previously shown in earlier and better movies. It almost seems that the director thought he really didn't need to direct such an experienced cast... However, this movie seriously needed the kind of acting actors offer when they are beyond themselves. Only the usually unimpressive Carole Bouquet seems determined to put some energy into it, offering (for once in a movie named hell) demonic looks from her wheelchair.

Sunday, May 13th 2007

• Problems in the Almaviva household

There must be something wrong with the Almaviva estate, someone could have thought on seeing Fábio Brando's sceneries in the production of Mozart's Le Nozze di Figaro conceived five years ago in São Paulo and recently refurbished for the Theatro Municipal in Rio de Janeiro. Backdrops hanging from pipes halfway from the top of the ceiling depicting palace rooms in moorish style drawn in a rather sketchy manner could describe the settings. Although a 5-year-old child would agree with the stage designer that there is something missing, nobody would have thought of adding poorly (un)dressed ballet dancers as living statues to give it the final touch. To make things worse, costume designer Fábio Namatame had a very free way with period costumes. One can always claim that they are stylized, - but they could be less ugly in any case. Fortunately, the cast responded to stage director José Possi Neto's broad comic approach. I would even praise their sense of comic timing, especially when the audience is unusually ready to laugh out loud, even during some of Mozart's most heavenly musical moments, such as the duettino Sull'aria.

When it comes to the musical aspects of the Theatro Municipal's Nozze di Figaro, one must acknowledge conductor Ira Levin's practical sense. Although he pressed hard the far-from-adept orchestra for bouncing rhythms, he never did that in a way that put his musicians and singers into trouble. Because of that, although some usually charming moments such as Cherubino's Non so più may have sounded dull, both act II and IV finali displayed surprising clarity and accuracy. Laura de Souza's Countess might have sounded utterly lovely ten years ago. Having exposed her Teresa Zylis-Gara-like warm and velvety soprano to Toscas and Aidas deprived it from a great deal of its homogeneity and fluidity. As a result, she had to work hard for refinement, often scaling her voice down to opaque mezza voce in the trickiest passages. That said, she is an experienced singer, who knows Mozartian style and has plenty of spirit. Her Dove sono even had some touching moments. The sprightly Gabriela Pace proved to have all the necessary requirements of a great Susanna - a bright, silvery soprano, some reserves of warmth and a certain ability to flote high notes. However, she still has some poor discipline and often sounds metallic in the higher end of her range and out of sorts in the lower reaches. Predictably, the admirable Luiza Francesconi stood out among the ladies, offering a firm-toned boyish but sensitive Cherubino. I hope that the occasional smokiness in her high notes is only temporary and won't compromise her Isabella in Rossini's L'italiana in Algeri in June. Homero Velho's high baritone works well for the role of the Count. Although his top notes could sound bottled-up, the cleanliness of his phrasing over the whole range were more than compensation. Last but not least, Lício Bruno is a winsome Figaro. His bass-baritone is generous and easy on the ear, he is a fine musician and is congenial all the way. Among the minor roles, Rosane Aranda's Barbarina is worthy of mention. She should work on her Italian, though.

Sunday, May 6th 2007

• Late Romanticism in São Paulo

I couldn't resist the opportunity to visit São Paulo to check Julianne Banse's performance of R. Strauss's Vier letzte Lieder with the OSESP. If I understood it correctly, she has just added these songs to her repertoire and, according to what I witnessed live, she was right to do so. Her velvety lyric soprano never becomes shrill and her low register is particularly rich and well connected to the rest of her voice. Of course, she belongs to the light-voiced end of the spectrum of singers tackling these songs. It is true that most commendably they never overwhelm her, but her dynamic range is constricted from mezzo forte to forte in the higher reachs. However, she has this Straussian floating quality in her voice to prevent that from being a turn-off. From the same reason, her tone colouring is not really varied, but out of verbal acuity and well-scupted phrasing she makes her
interpretative points, even offering some haunting moments, as in the end of Beim Schlafgehen. She does have long breath and rarely resorted to adaptions to reach the end of lines but made some exotic breathing
pauses - I must imagine some of them for expressive purposes, such as in the middle of the word "zittert" in Frühling. All in all, a surprisingly beautiful performance, better than some recorded in studio by sopranos of her same
Fach, such as Barbara Hendricks.

Ralph Poppen expertly guaranteed a multicoloured but subtle orchestral tapestry to support but not overcloud his soloist. His forward-moving and unsentimental approach fits Banse, who would be found wanting in tone-colouring to fill in the blanks in more languid tempi. Unfortunately, the French horns were not at their best day. That would develop into a serious drawback during Mahler´s 5th. At first, the contrast in loudness of the orchestra freed from the obligation of accomodating a singer's needs really had an effect of the audience. Poppen ensured rhythmic ebullience and transparent from his musicians, but from the third movement on a decrease in concentration emerged and ended on showing on the occasional messy passage and lack of expressive purpose (what is always problematic in the fourth movement).

• Pictures

Here are some pictures of São Paulo.

• Reading

Martin Scorsese's The Age of Innocence was an important movie to me. I felt so depressed after I saw it! I remember a friend of mine expressing her puzzlement on my gloomy mood after having watched a movie that looked cozy and cute to her. Until last month, I had never read anything by Edith Wharton, but - clichéed as it sounds - the book made me realize that the movie is just good. I have developed this bad habit of praising what everybody acknowledges as masterly, but again... In any case, Wharton is one of the most acute observers of human nature to grace American literature. Although the book describes a decadent society running into obsoleteness, there is nothing obsolete into her perspective on this society. Although she has to resort to obliqueness because of the sensibilities of the days she lived in, there is such a crude objectivity in the way she describes her characters that you would almost guess that, if they were real people, they would feel offended by the nonindulgent way she describes them. A superficial curiosity is that the Countess Olenska is described as black-haired in the book, while May is a blonde. In the movie, Michelle Pfeiffer plays Olenska, while Wynona Rider plays May Welland. It is interesting that the archetype of the modest blondes and the exotic brunettes has been replaced by today's view of sexy blondes and discrete brunettes!

Monday, April 16th 2007

• And more Elektra

Thanks to Alex, I was able to listen to Bychkov's recording with Deborah Polaski and the WDR orchestra. A review has been added to the discography.

• A new title for Anna Caterina Antonacci

After I finish my reading of Gramophone or Diapason, I always say to myself I should store this magazine next to the previous issues in a bookshelf because I might need something published there in the future. As much as I enjoy reading these magazines, I actually never needed to check back anything in an old issue. Therefore, in order to make some space in my bookshelf, I have decided to give three years of old magazines away. I left the piles of magazines with my doorman some weeks ago and thought all of them had reached their destination by now, only to discover today that he kept one Gramophone magazine in a shelf inside his booth. It happens to feature Anna Caterina Antonacci in its cover and it seems he is able to keep his eyes on her on a permanent basis. So it seems that she not only is one of today opera's hot properties, but also my doorman's "centerfold".

Monday, April 9th 2007

• A bit more Elektra

A review of Cristoph von Dohnányi's DVD from Zürich has been added to the discography.

Sunday, April 8th 2007

• Karajan's Elektra

I had not listened to these CDs for a long while just to rediscover this overwhelming performance. I haven't been absorbed by a recording like that for a long time! Karajan never lets Strauss or Hofmannsthal down for a minute. His theatrical and musical intincts were amazingly right that evening. Moreover, he had the means to realize his ideas - the Vienna Philharmonic was at its most kaleidoscopic and the muses of theatre and music must have crowned Astrid Varnay after this performance for her superhuman achievement. Nobody has ever done what Varnay did here - and she did it live! I feel like describing her miraculous incarnation of Agamemnon's daughter, but words really fail me. Although this Salzburg Festival production features impressive singers in minor parts, such as James King, Lucia Popp, Helen Watts and Lisa Otto, truth is that Hildegard Hillebrecht and even Martha Mödl are below standard. Just imagine what this would have been with, say, Leonie Rysanek and Grace Hoffman (if I use Karajan's FroSch live from Vienna as example). By the way, I have always said that Karajan's Wiener Staatsoper FroSch would be the night at the opera I would chose to attend if I had a time machine, but this Elektra is a serious contender. Curiously, those are the only two Lucia Popp's recordings under Karajan... Of course I have rewritten my previous review.

• Photos

I have reorganized my pictures on the Multiply website. Some pictures have been deleted, others have been added - some had been posted with lower resolution and have been reposted.

Friday, April 6th 2007

• Perfection does not come better than this

When Unitel/DG is finally going to release this?

• A movie

When someone asks me about what film I would like to see, I always repeat "Mike Leigh's Secrets and Lies, but I have already seen it". What I mean is - as much it is wonderful to see exquisitely crafted movies with complex plots and/or stunning visual effects, I always wish to see movies about people. Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck's Das Leben der Anderen is such a film, but it is also more than that. I saw it almost two weeks ago and felt like writing about it - but I must say I still cannot find the words to describe it. In a sense, this is an utterly German film. One of the most positive quotings in German literature is Goethe's Von der Gewalt die alle Wesen bindet, befreit der Mensch der sich überwindet (From that power which binds all beings, the man sets himself free who overcomes himself). This sentence has inspired Hugo von Hofmannsthal to write Die Frau ohne Schatten and it also probably explains Beethoven's choice of Fidelio as material to the libretto for his only opera. Curiously, this echt German proposition is an exhortation to universality. Thus, a plot involving the peculiarities (and predicaments) of life with the Iron Curtain has an immediate appeal for audiences all over the world. Gerd Wiesler (the magnetic Ulrich Mühe) is a specialist in techniques of interrogation and espionnage. When the DDR Minister for Culture sets his eyes on an actress, Christa-Maria Seland (the beautiful Martina Gedeck), Wiesler receives orders of spying on her partner (therefore, the Minister's rival in "love"), the playwright Georg Dreyman (Sebastian Koch), whose ars gratia artis approach secures him the position of being the country's most revered author in a context of repression against art engagé. Being confronted with the life of creative, honest and decent people - more than that, on experiencing his first contact with the power of art through these two people, Wiesler is led to overcome himself and surrender. From a certain point of view, Das Leben der Anderen is an hymn of praise to the power of art and its ability to restore humanity to our hearts, even when they are petrified by tiranny and injustice. However, more immediately, this movie is a touching, deep but unaffected story of a man who saves himself when he has the opportunity to save others. It is immensely moving and enlightening, certainly the best film I have seen in a long while.

Sunday, April 1st 2007

• More Weber on the web

I have retouched the discography of Weber's Freischütz and added reviews of Sawallisch's CDs on Myto and of Rolf Liebermann's movie with Arlene Saunders and Ernst Koszub.

Thursday, March 29th 2007

• She did not do it on purpose

Marie Antoinette's last words are famous, but it seems that nobody had the last word on Sofia Coppola's Marie Antoinette. As much as the queen herself, the movie has been the target of a hatred campaign so absurd that I wonder what is wrong with these people! If you think that a horrendous historical movie like Oliver Stone's Alexander in which the Greeks from the West tried to save the East from barbarianism caused no further ado... For example, I have read in a newspaper that the fact that Francis Ford Coppola accompanied her daughter in one interview about the movie only shows how despicable poor Sofia would be on lacking the guts to show up to defend her film alone. And I read that on a serious newspaper... I myself am not related to her in any way and feel urged to defend her! As Sofia Coppola said in an interview her interest in British historian Antonia Fraser's book was the similarities she found in the queen's rites of passage in a context of a decadent frivolous society with today's wealthy teenagers'. If I am not mistaken, she even shows that in the movie when she lets a pair of sneakers appear among the many and many pairs of shoes Marie Antoinette and her ladies-in-waiting are buying in one scene of the movie. Although the director did not intend to make a historical movie, not only is she quite accurate with History books, but also features the occasional Norbert Elias moment to reminds us of the role of etiquette in court society's social structure. Besides, she also produces a movie of rare visual beauty, full of unusual and theatrical camera angles. The much commented soundtrack is not self-demonstrative and works to perfection in the opera ball scene. And, yes, I believe there is a great cast here. The rebukes against Kirsten Dunst are another exemple of petty perverse criticism. If you think she lacks the gutsy intensity of an Isabelle Adjani, that is because you are mistaking Marie Antoinette for Reine Margot. She offers an interesting portrayal, charming and provocatively distant, and embodies the director's idea of depicting the queen's journey from crowned teenager in search of entertainment to the earlier stages of wife/mother in distress, a development noted by none other than Stefan Zweig. Also, it is a compelling opportunity to find the excellent Jason Schwartzmann in a serious role and he takes profit of the occasion to build a congenial and unclichéd performance. Not to mention glamourous casting in small roles, from Steve Coogan to the grandiose Judy Davis. When I retort the criticism made on this film, I do not mean it is perfect. The movie does lacks timing from a certain moment on and seems a bit adrift towards the end, but it is no blemish in Sofia Coppola's career. On the contrary, it shows the director in absolute control of a large-scale production. It is also an interesting étude de moeurs and the French might hate me for that, but it also shows an American director free of the mannerisms Americans usually display in movies like that. The criticism against its superficiality being self-defeating since the whole idea behind it is to have a glimpse on superficiality itself.

Monday, March 26th 2007

• Still in Mozartian mood

A review of Daniel Harding's DVD of Mozart's Don Giovanni from Salzburg has been added to the discography and also that of Welser-Möst's Clemenza di Tito from Zürich.

Sunday, March 25th 2007

• A Russian History Sticker Album

Taking a look at the archeology of Russian revolution through the coming of age of those men and women who would change the course of affairs in backwards Imperial Russia might be an interesting idea for a play, but as much as poetry, theatre requires concentration and despite Tom Stoppard's credentials as a playwright, the overambitious project of a trilogy is structurally self-defeating. Brazilian TV is very fond of projects like that, the so-called mini-series, in which an episode of history is chosen merely as a backdrop for the usual clichéed private affairs, only labelled with important names. As usual in circumstances like that, there is a plethora of historical names to squeeze into the plot. The golden rule of soap opera (which is all characters relate to each other) makes things usually more complicate: they all drop famous names to each other merely to describe the trifles of daily life - Do you know Cleopatra? She is a regular customer. She buys her snakes here. The bad side effect of that is that these famous characters are treated to a heavy dosis of make-believe psychology and in the end the reason why everybody does anything is because their parents did not treat them as they should or something like that. Of course, Stoppard goes far beyond that - his dialogues are always vivid and interesting, but maybe on his effort of achieving lightness and entertainment as a vehicle to more serious debate his heavy editing result in short bits of scene, often verbose and superficial, following the television motto that the audiences should not be informed, but made confuse so that they look for the next chapter for a bit more understanding. As I could not find ticket for the first installment of the trilogy (Voyage), I bought the book to be acquainted with the plot and had a better time reading it than watching the sequel (Shipwreck). It is hardly director Jack O' Brien's fault if the piling up of scenes with heavy usage of flash backs involve repetitive effects that gradually become mannerisms. In the star-studded cast, Jennifer Ehle (you might remember her from BBC's Pride and Prejudice) stands out as Natalie Herzen. The character itself is a bit nonsensical in its operational function of relating to everyone else in the plot, but she is an experienced actress whose charisma and unfailing technique always catch the audience's attention. Also, she projects her text with admirable clarity in a strong yet natural fruity voice. Among the actors taking leading roles, only Jason Butler Harner as Turgenev keeps up to her level, a beautifully crafted performance. Although Ethan Hawke (taking the key role of Bakunin) is below that level, his enthusiasm is so contagiating that one is ready to forgive his same-key-ness.

• Back to Golden Age

Although Rossini's Barbiere di Siviglia is considered the most perfect opera buffa ever written, I have to confess my favourite has ever been his Cenerentola, whose bittersweet plot and exuberant ensembles are more to my liking than the slapstick comedy and overwrought situations of the Beaumarchais setting. You may remember my appreciation of the Metropolitan Opera's Cenerentola, crowned by Olga Borodina's superlative vocalism, but - even if I am not crazy about Bartlett Sher's production nor Maurizio Benini's conducting - the paramount excellence of the three leading singers in this production of Rossini's visit card concurred to one of my most exciting experiences at the opera these days. As I have often told, I have no reserves in my admiration for Joyce DiDonato. She has it all - an exquisite voice, effortless unfailing technique, imagination, charisma, acting talents and she is truly adorable. Later that evening, I saw someone going towards Fiorello just opposite Lincoln Center and smiled to her and was about to say hi, when suddenly I realized she was no acquaintance of mine - it was Joyce DiDonato. I had never seen Juan Diego Flórez live before and on recordings a metallic quality to his upper register is not entirely to my liking. Seeing him in the flesh dispelled this impression. Although his voice does not have the dulcet velvetiness of his fellow Peruvian singer Luigi Alva, not even Alva could project his top notes as valiantly as Flórez or even vie with the young tenor for sheer bravura in firework coloratura. His rendition of the impossibly difficult and almost always cut Cessa di più resistere is one of the wonders of nature. But Flórez is no canary. His imaginative and sensitive account of his opening cavatina was only the first example of good taste and intelligence in the evening. He is also an excellent comedy actor. Watching the old Ponnelle movie, I realized that for the first time I kept looking for what Figaro was singing while Berganza and Alva were going up and down their scales - and that was because Hermann Prey's honeyed baritone is simply irresistible. Peter Mattei repeated Prey's quality of being one of the most likeable Figaros I have ever seen. His strong and firm baritone is pleasant all the way in the ear, projects beautifully in the auditorium and, unlike most exponents of this role, he is undaunted by passagework. Some might want a more Italianate approach, but rarely have Figaro's lines sounded so elegant without any loss of ebullience. He is also a really funny man, entirely at home on stage, twisting the audience around his little finger. The interaction between these three singers were truly Golden Age. In the role of Bartolo, John Del Carlo proved to be a most consumate actor, has a resonant baritone and deals brilliantly with the difficult patter in his aria. As many other singers in this repertoire, he employs off-pitch comic effects that may bother some sensitive ears, though. Finally, the company of those marvelous singers proved to be healthy to John Relyea, offering the best performance I have ever heard from him. His bass was unusually compact, dark and focused that evening, earning him enthusiastic applauses.

Although Maurizio Benini knows how to help his singers in tricky passages, he failed to coax his musicians to produce the kind of light and buoyant orchestral sound this music cries for. Moreover, most ensembles were downright messy. Bartlett Sher's overbusy stage direction, might have something to do with that - fortunately singers were left alone to sing their difficult arias withoug having to jump or roll or the sort of things directors seem increasingly fonder of. Michael Yeargan's sceneries belong to the kind of sets conceived to be looked from parterre. If you have a balcony seat, you can see the mechanics happening behind them... Other than this, although the overcute detail tend to be omnipresent, it also tends to be funny.

Wednesday, March 21st 2007

• An evening of magical atmosphere

I cannot tell how famous writer Joan Didion is outside USA. I myself had not heard about her before I read that Vanessa Redgrave was playing a monologue based on her autobiographical book The Year of Magical Thinking. I confess I bought my ticket exclusively to see monstre sacré Redgrave on stage. But the truth is I met Didion there at the theatre. I do not mean Redgrave imitates Didion to perfection - as I have just said, I have never seen Didion in my entirely life. What I am saying is that Redgrave addressed the audience eye-to-eye in such an artless manner while telling Didion's experiences that only the occasional moments in which the odd mood shifting in the text was a bit mishandled reminded me that this woman on stage was Vanessa Redgrave. It seems silly to praise one of the world's most admired actresses, but rarely does technical mastery look so much like the real thing on stage. In the Playbill, Didion says one never gets tired of Redgrave's voice - and that is because she employs the tone-colouring of a Lieder singer and the rhythmic mastery of a jazz crooner. Playwright Dave Hare's stage direction is refreshingly unobtrusive and the scenic solution of using gradually collapsing abstract pannels to mark the different moments of this monologue is effective and sensible. As for the text, I cannot say if Didion's book is great literature, but she certainly is a fascinating personality who approaches her own experience of loosing both her life companion and daughter in a short lapse of time with intelligence and no self-indulgence. In the end, if you are not moved, then you have probably never lost someone you really cared for.

 

• Eine arthritische Helena

If something like an Omniscient Mussel existed, it would have told Peter Gelb that staging Richard Strauss's Die Ägyptische Helena without an atom of glamour is a complete waste of time and money. To start with, the Playbill proudly informs us that the production hails from Garsington Opera Festival, an event involving performances in gardens of English countryside gentry's estates. When the curtains open, what one sees is accordingly provincial, albeit blown up to the Met's stage proportions, what makes things even emptier and more pointless. Especially when the proceedings involve crowd scenes. As you may imagine, in Garsington, six is a crowd. I will spare readers of this staging's symbolism. It certainly made my neighbours laugh. At least they had some fun. It is important to make people think of opera as an entertaining experience, I guess - they might buy another ticket one of these days.

When it comes to the musical aspects, the forces involved are - at least on paper - world-class. I must praise Fabio Luisi. He knows exactly what kind of orchestral sound this music requires. However, the Metropolitan Opera band cannot emulate the rich sounds the Saxon orchestras Luisi is used to work with when they have to produce translucid sounds. Although the New York audiences were all right served clear orchestral perspective, the result was unfortunately rather colourless, not to mention that rapid passagework on strings were merely hinted at. However, the well-intentioned animated orchestral playing is miles away from being the performance's main liability.

As everybody knows, Die Ägyptische Helena is a vehicle for the flashy Moravian diva Maria Jeritza, who could compensate irregular technique with lots of charisma and crystalline tone. That is hardly Deborah Voigt's case. She is a reliable singer in the most negative sense of the word. From the first note you can tell the whole story - and what you're being told is that hers is no Straussian voice. The basic sound is grainy and rather shrewish. The low register is unpleasant and the middle patch doesn't have much of a colour. She can hit some big round top notes, but they all come in the same shape. Critics are unanimous to call Gwyneth Jones's performance in Antal Dorati's recording one of the worst examples of Straussian singing ever commited to the gramophone. I must say that listening to Voigt made me realise how great an artist Jones is. Even in dire vocal condictions, she builds a character and is not afraid of colouring the text as if she could have possibly understood what Hofmannsthal meant. As Aithra, Diana Damrau could have stolen the show - she is an exciting artist whose personality triumphed over silly stage direction - but the truth is that the low tessitura eluded her and her slightly unfocused floated high notes could not always pierce through the orchestra. Replacing an ailing Torsten Kerl, the young Michael Hendrick proved to have nerves of steel, but his virtues do not go far beyond that. He does have a legit Heldentenor voice in the making, but he should be singing Freischütz in order to oil his instrument before going really hardcore. As it is, his voice is a kind of Gerhard Stolze cum Jess Thomas's top notes - not the most attractive match. Also legato and consistent true pich are not included in the package. Altair is a part that could not sit comfortably in Wolfgang Brendel's voice in his prime. At this stage of his careeer, he can still produce characteristic pleasant sounds when the line is congenial to him. This is going to sound peculiar, but the saving graces of this performance were Jill Grove's impressively focused contralto, employed to great advantage to the Omniscient Mussel and Wendy Bryn Harmer, bright and full-toned as Aithra's maid.

Monday, March 19th 2007

• Jack and the Latinos

Bob Glaudini's Jack Goes Boating has been written under the umbrella of the Labyrinth Theater Company, the aim of which is to "produce new plays reflecting the many voices in the New York City community". It seems no coincidence to me that - although this play has been marketed as a sort of romantic comedy - cultural differences seem to me its subject. Clyde (John Ortiz) and Lucy (Daphne Rubin-Vega) are a couple of Latino background whose best friend is Jack (Philip Seymour Hoffman). While Clyde and Lucy have this spontaneous sensuousness leading to a passionate relationship, Jack is rather uptight and awkward. When Lucy introduces him to her workmate Connie (Beth Cole), slightly hysterical and sexually repressed, they do establish a romantic connection, yet contrived and full of issues, but surprisingly earnest and increasingly deep and tender. In other words, just connect (in E.M. Forster's "intercultural" sense of the expression) the clichés of sexy temperamental Latinos and bottled-up Gringos and the result might be explosive.

Glaudini's dialogues have an indie-movie feel in their vagueness and occasional nonsense, but the truth is Peter Dubois's agile direction and the excellent cast are the show's main assets. Not surprisingly, Philip Seymour Hoffman overshadows the other actors in his impressively concentrated performance, coherently conceived and refreshingly economical in a role that could have been entirely built on mannerisms on other hands. If John Ortiz is not at the same leve, it is only because he succombed to the temptation of a demonstrative approach. Daphne Rubin-Vega shares with him the naturalness with which she embodies the spontaneous sexiness of her character - not to mention she masterly handles the "drink/stoned" episodes. Only Beth Cole seems a bit lost in her Connie, a character that deserved a more sharply conceived approach, in which fragility could be better conveyed. David Kouns's sets and Mini O'Donnel's costumes are creative with the necessary ounce of larger-than-life quality good theatre always needs to offer.

Sunday, March 18th 2007

• Six days in New York

Still in Mozartian mood (and thus refraining from posting for a while), I left Brasília for a week in New York. In order to keep things chronologically tidy, you'll discover my impressions on the trip day by day. Stunned by the last traces of winter, I took some photos at Central Park.

Friday, March 16th 2007

• Mozart, once again with feeling

Facing the task of adding a review of Minkowski's DVD of Mitridate to the discography, I noticed it seriously needed to be rewritten. And so I have done. I take profit of the occasion to ask why this jewel among Mozart's early stage works does not have one excellent staging available on video. It is amazing how richly paid directors are unable to find interest in a libretto not only inspired by a play by Racine, but also rich in meanings. The ruler of a country in the Middle East who has launched a campaign against the hegemon empire of the age is announced to be dead abroad. These news free his two sons to leave war aside and take care of their personal lives. Their father happens to have had a beautiful fiancé and both try their luck with her. One of them has an inclination for the lifestyle of the powerful enemy Empire (and also the plan to make a coup d'état and shift the country from rogue to ally out of political realism) and tries to seduce her, but she has a soft spot for the more reverent brother. Suddenly, the supposedly dead ruler shows up alive and his personal crusade makes everybody's life miserable. He threatens to put all of them to death for moral punishment, risking even the future of his country in this operation. Come on, you could have read something very similar to that in The Economist... And not one stage director can make an interesting staging of that!

Saturday, February 24th 2007

• You should know by now

Yes, Mozart AGAIN. A review of René Jacobs's DVD of Le Nozze di Figaro has been added to the discography.

Thursday, February 15th 2007

• Guess what?

Still more Mozart! A review of Roger Norrington's Idomeneo on DVD from last year's Salzburg Festival has been added to the discography.

Monday, February 12th

• Pictures from Brasília.

Trying a new camera... Here are the photos.

Sunday, February 11th

• And more...

A review of this this year's Salzburg Festival DVD of Mozart's Lucio Silla has been added to the discography.

Thursday, February 8th 2007

• Even more Mozart

The discography of Ascanio in Alba has been rewritten. Also, a review of Ivor Bolton's DVD of Die Entführung aus dem Serail has been added to the discography.

Tuesday, February 6th 2007

• E avante lei tremava tutta Roma

My friends Renato and Inajara brought me from Rome the most Roman of gifts - Victor de Sabata's recording of Puccini's Tosca. Although this is considered one of the greatest opera recordings ever released, I must confess I had never listened to it but for highlights ages ago. Before anyone of you start to find it absurd, I remind you that: a) I have never written a Tosca discography (the one published on re:opera is written by Olivier); b) I do know Callas Tosca, from the Covent Garden video. In any case, I have always had a difficult relationship with Callas. First of all, I never had an instinctive and immediate liking of her voice and, although I admire her whole approach and attitude and acknowledge her positive influence on operatic interpretation of Italian repertoire, I tended to find the final result confined to the aesthetics of a certain moment in time - in the same way Schwarzkopf inhabits the same locus of fur coats, Shalimar and long cigarettes. However, when I started to listen to this recording, I found myself really connected to the proceedings. First of all, because Victor de Sabata knows how to play the tricks in the score without ever appealing to any sort of swindle (as many famous conductors have done). Then, Giuseppe di Stefano is in wonderful voice and his whole likeable persona comes through the microphones to perfection. And playing the bad guy is something Tito Gobbi doesn't have to make up, it comes really naturally and unexaggeratedly to him. And there is Callas. I don't know if the remastering made in this British unofficial release has something to do with that, but Callas' voice never sounded so pleasant to me as here. Her performance is, vocally speaking, blameless. I feel a bit silly praising a recording unanimously taken as reference, but what called my attention is the up-to-dateness of her performance. Even in the end of act II, there is a straight-to-the-matter quality and a sense of dramatic focus even an actress those days would rarely display.

Some friends of mine will certain find this "confessional" moment funny (we have had lots of discussions on this "subject"), but I feel I owe them this post. Finally, if you are curious to know who has been my favourite Tosca, the answer is Birgit Nilsson. You may throw stones at me, I don't care. When it comes to a role in which a woman has to show her claws and still sound like a woman, nobody does it like Nilsson!

Sunday, January 28th 2007

• Back to Brasília

Just back from New York, all the comments published in the doc file are now transferred to this blog. This was my first visit to New York in January and the city runs in a slightly lower speed this time of the year. Also, the absence of Tower Records has been sorely missed. I've noticed that paying my daily visit to the store at Lincoln Center was part of the experience of being in Manhattan - and a share of the fun is forever lost now. No other store in town has taken the pain of treating lovers of classical music as special clients as Tower Records used to do. J&R has an irregular stock and the atmosphere is simply not inviting and Virgin Records is a shame - they could just not sell classical music at all. As it is, New York still has two exciting stores for those who still find it great to pick CDs from the shelf and see them in their hands before purchasing them (in opposition of picking them at the Internet): Academy Records, where you have a wonderful offering of second-hand items, and the Metropolitan Opera Shop, probably the only place in the world where the loudspeakers pour opera without any shame while clients are humming or singing along (without any shame either).

The Metropolitan Musem of Art's exhibit "Americans in Paris" was a highlight item of this visit. Watching all these masterpieces by favourite painters such as Whistler, Mary Cassat and John Singer Sargent made me revive the feeling of my first visit to the Musée d'Orsay, in the sense of seeing paintings that speak straight to the heart one next to the other in such profusion that in the end you cannot really say which one was your favourite. The Guggenheim Museum's exhibit on Spanish painting is also a must-see and an opportunity to realise that Murillo is a painter you just cannot overlook (yes, I know, I should have realised that before...). My only complaint is that the museum offered only a hardcover heavy heavy catalogue in their store. When you are travelling, sometimes you just cannot carry a large amount of heavy books - and the softcover version with smaller pictures is always providential.

I could also witness the first part of a New York Philharmonic rehearsal (I had a flight to take!). Vadim Repin was to play Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto conducted by the great Riccardo Muti. I had seen Muti a year before at the Carnegie Hall with the Vienna Philharmonic, but my seat was so distant from the stage that I could hardly see him. Not this time, when I could not only see him (and the clarity and purposeness of his gestures would make any orchestra get the point, I can tell you) but also hear him applying the final touches to the orchestra. And Vadim Repin's dense violin sound, unfailing technique and imagination was the crowning diamond of that elegant but energetic performance.

Finally, since I was carrying a new camera, took a while to learn how to use it and finally the weather was whimsical, I could only take a couple of pictures.

• A scherzo with a tragic ending

No, I am not speaking of R. Strauss's Salome, but of Tennessee Williams's Suddenly Last Summer, a very tricky work that builds from a somewhat picturesque teazing atmosphere in steady crescendo to a grotesque thrilling ending. This is a special work for me, since it was my first experience with working with adult theatre. A friend of mine organized a private reading (with audience) of this play and for some mysterious reason invited... my mother to read the part of Mrs. Holly. My mother does not know the meaning of shyness, but her last experience with theatre had been in high-school - and the rest of the cast consisted of reputed professional actors. I was surprised to find that my mother actually accepted the task, but the first rehearsal proved her to be very ill-at-ease. My friend, the director, called me explaining the reason why he invited my mother was the fact that her personality would fit the role, but at the heat of events, she proved really artifficial - and he asked me to "rehearse" her in order to prepare her for the day of the reading. I remember the afternoon we spent working on her performance, deconstructing her "acting" and restoring her naturalness. By 6:00 p.m she could offer something decent (although she was amazed that everything I asked from her was "not acting").

In the day of the performance, the actress reading the part of Catherine Holly, the marvelous movie/theatre actress Dira Paes, could not arrive in time because of an unexpected gigantic traffic jam. Everybody became tense because there was no replacement for her - and when she finally made it, she was a bit out of herself. That might have been the reason why the moment for her first line changed the whole affair in a strange manner. First she stood up (instead of reading her text from her chair), forcing the whole cast to interact as on stage. This ended on bringing an extra level of energy from all involved, especially at the moment of her final monologue, when she started to do very unpredictable things, such as making horrible noises with the chairs. I was afraid she would end on letting one of them fall on a member of the audience, who felt tense and tenser. However, the most surprising event was that, of all people, my mother - working hard on her "non-acting" approach - started to react to Dira's acting as if those were actual events. As a result, when it came to Mrs. Holly's final "Doctor, aren't you going to say anything?", my mother was ashake, grabbing Dira's arm uttering her line with indignant revolt. That really surprised me - and I felt really pride of her results.

I am telling all this because these events had an influence on my impression of the Roundabout Theatre Company's production of this play at the Harold and Miriam Steinberg Center for the Theater. My immediately previous experience with this play happened to be in the Albery Theatre, in London, with Diana Rigg and Victoria Hamilton directed by Michael Grandage in 2004. The sceneries were contained in a gigantic iron contraption the sudden and fast closure of which in the end of the play produced such a noise that everybody jumped to the edge of their seats, an event that crowned an evergrowing tension produced rather from Diana Rigg's building reaction to the final monologue rather than from Victoria Hamilton's performance. This building tension almost to unbearable levels is what I remembered from Dira's frightening performance and the similarly building reaction from all others involved back in Rio. That is precisely what I missed tonight. Blythe Danner was an amazing Mrs. Venable. Differently from the monstruous character built in classical manner by Diana Rigg, Danner turned around womanliness. When Mrs. Venable says she used to attract attention in elegant society and that everybody took her for her son's companion (instead of his mother), this was entirely believable - especially in her seductive interaction with Gale Harold's inert Dr. Cukrowicz. She had a partner to her level in Carla Gugino's all-round perfect Catherine Holly. The subject of this play is sex - and she never misses that - unlike Victoria Hamilton, whose restraint made her character rather pointless. However, not even the extremely talented Gugino's expert handling of the final monologue's crescendo would build alone the necessary tension when the director seemed to have abandoned the other actors on stage to the shadows. Mrs. Holly and George's broad comical gestures simply did not fit into what would happen in the end of the play - and Becky Ann Baker's Aren't you going to say anything? could have just been deleted without any loss to the performance. Worse than that, Blythe Danner simply vanishes from stage and her last line was similarly said to almost no effect. This is evidently not a fault of this admirable actress - when it comes to the interaction of actors on stage, this is when the director has to do his work. And the failing chemistry here simply ruined the performance.

Wednesday, January 17th 2007

• A René for a Renée

When I have read that an indisposed Renée Fleming had been replaced by René Pape in the tribute to Toscanini organized by Lorin Maazel in the Avery Fisher Hall, I have to confess I had to repress a certain disappointment. You all may be rightly surprised - I have consistently praised René Pape and often discussed René Fleming's achievements. But the fact is - when you have a singer requested for three arias, it is easier to a soprano to make an impression in 15 minutes and then go home. I am not saying it is impossible for a bass to present a stunning recital. One of the most amazing recitals I have ever seen happened to be Samuel Ramey's in São Paulo - after a theatrical Prologue to Boito's Mefistofele, we had such an impressive Rossini display that everybody would feel more than satisfied to go home after that (but, no, we were still treated to Verdi, Kern and Cole Porter!). But René Pape - I know, invited in short notice out of his vacation - chose Banquo's aria from Macbeth, Ella giammai m'amò from Don Carlo and Leporello's catalogue aria and sung them scrumptuously. However, I am afraid these items are not Pape's Dresden-made noble bass's strongest suit. I wonder how exciting it would have been to see Pape sing something like a a Wunderhorn song or, if we had to keep in the realms of opera, a bit of Hans Sachs (that would be a nice opportunity for him to try that). And then maybe the Don Carlo aria. In any case, the whole concert had some puzzling items. The proceedings began with R. Strauss's Don Juan played by the New York Philharmonic. I am no Toscanini specialist, but I didn't know this was a representative piece in HIS repertoire. Then we had an orchestra called Symphonica Toscanini to play Respighi's Pini di Roma. I am unable to say something knowledgeable about that since I dislike Respighi, but I must confess my amazement with the techical display of this apparently pick-up orchestra. This flashing impression would eventually be tamed by their dubious results in Leporello's aria. Finally, both orchestras teamed for one of the most thunderous accounts of Tchaikovsky's Francesa da Rimini (not a favourite of mine either). The truth is I wasn't in the right mood for this concert - and left the theatre still in the same mood.

Tuesday, January 16th 2007

• Feast to the eyes

I first met Zhang Yimou in his days of Raise the red lanterns, but younger movie-goers probably associate him with Hero and House of the Flying Daggers, films that show the Chinese moviemaker more in keeping with today's trends of Eastern cinema. However, nothing like being true to one's own nature. The Curse of the Golden Flower is vintage Yimou - strong passions slowly but consistently unfolding wrapped in opulent imagery. This family plot involving power and love features strong performances from all involved, including the hallmark magnetic and gorgeous Gong Li and the fierce and intense Chow Yun Fat. Differently from his last movies, in which the colour palette is elegantly and economically chosen for effects, The Curse of the Golden Flower offers kaleidoscopic images that go dangerously close to kitsch, but survive the danger as an aesthetic device to prepare the audience for the torrents of emotions shown on the screen. A masterpiece.

Monday, January 15th 2007

• Visa problems but credentials presented

It seemed New York's most interesting musical event this week-end would be a joint recital by Armenian/Canadian resident soprano Isabel Bayrakdarian and Canadian baritone Russel Braun at the new auditorium at the Morgan Library. However, Mr. Braun had problems with his visa and could not show up. Therefore, the soprano had the whole program to herself. I had only one experience of Bayrakdarian's singing, last year at the Met's Magic Flute, when I was certainly impressed by the quality of her voice, but not entirely convinced by the tidiness of her singing. However, this afternoon this charming soprano presented her recitalist credentials with success. She opened the proceedings with a selection of Schubert Lieder, in which her cleanliness of line and discrete but sensitive interpretation secured her beautiful performances - including the fearsome Nacht und Träume, when she eschewed bloodlessness and offered instead rich firm tone and a more passionate approach to longing. Only An die Musik lacked Innigkeit, probably due to an overperky piano accompaniment (provided by Ms. Bayrakdarian's husband, Serouj Kradjian). The second part of the program involved songs by Pauline Viardot-Garcia, tackled with virtuoso approach, good French pronunciation and a fiery temper. Those qualities would be boosted in the final part of the program, when the soprano sung Obradors and a song by Cuban composer Ernesto Lecuona. The encore, probably the most touching moment in the whole recital, was an Armenian lullaby, to which anyone could have the sweetest dreams. Only Rossini's Soirées Musicales revealed a metallic quality that probably show that the Italian repertoire is not the most recommended for her voice.

Sunday, January 14th 2007

• In Bach mich badend

Probably in 1999 Helmut Rilling showed up in Rio, with his chorus and orchestra, for a performance of Bach's Mass in B minor in the Theatro Municipal - and it was such a disappointing affair that I thought I would never spend my money on him again, but the appeal of watching St. Matthew's Passion live is always irresistible - so there was I at Carnegie Hall to my own good surprise. Helped by the venue's warm acoustics, the Orchestra of St. Luke's presented a very commendable performance and the Carnegie Hall Festival Chorus certainly impressed everyone with its accurate and enthusiastic contribution (for which chorus master Kathy Saltzman Romey deserves all the praises). As for Rilling himself, I have to confess that he convinced me of the occasional interest of listening to a traditional performance of Bach's music, with flowing rich sonorities if the conductor does not indulge in sentimentalism, as he did not. Some members of the audience even regretted that sometimes tempi were too fast or dance-like, but that is exactly why the performance scored so much points. That takes us to the main liability of this overall beautiful performance - the chorus and the orchestra's warm sounds could not find soloists in keeping with the approach. With the exception of the Evangelist, James Taylor, announced to be indisposed, piercing through the orchestra with his bright slightly reedy tenor nonetheless, all the other soloists had really bad weather trying to be heard, especially the low voices. It must be made clear that this kind of performance requires the likes of Gundula Janowitz or Fritz Wunderlich to work - otherwise Bach's expressive arias end on being the weak links in the frame of this powerful works. And this cannot be right. Some may point out that there are not singers like that anymore - I disagree. They are not invited anymore to this repertoire in favour of period practices specialists, who might be more knowledgeable in this music but simply do not work properly in the actual circumstances of performances in this scale. For instance, if someone like the pure-toned but substantial-voiced Genia Kühmeier was to sing the soprano part here, I am sure the proceedings would have been far more spontaneous.

Saturday, January 13th 2007

• Es siegte die Stärke

Some people are lucky; other people are persistent. When it comes to the Met's Zauberflöte I fit in the second group. I have seen some beautiful Mozart productions at the Metropolitan Opera House - and everybody knows how tricky producing a Mozart opera in a larger venue can be - and could not accept the fact that Magic Flute would be such a disappointing exception. I am speaking of musical aspects, of course. Thus, when I read that James Levine would be the conductor on Friday's performance, I seized the opportunity. Sometimes you can tell a performance from the opening bars. The difference between Scott Bergesson's and James Levine's introduction to the overture is the difference between listening to an orchestra from theatre's foyer and listening properly seated in the auditorium. The exposition of the fugal theme showed the orchestra plugged while in previous performance's it sounded sleepy. If you ask me if this was an unforgettable performance of Mozart's Magic Flute, I would have to be honest and say it was not, but it was at least a performance of Mozart's The Magic Flute. What I had previously seen was not even the shadow of what this music should be. The new conductor seemed to produce an effect also on Erika Miklosa's Queen of the Night. The new fast and crisp tempi extracted an excitement, a brightness of tone and an energetic temper I had not seen in her last year. The performance was similarly graced by Matthew Polenzani's dulcet Tamino, splendidly sung if less verbally specific than the otherwise less gracious Cristoph Strehl. Finally, Morris Robinson seriously needs to work on his German, but the voice is extremely appropriate to the role of Sarastro, even if the pitch-dark tone is not necessarily ingratiating.

Friday, January 12th 2006

• Bellini belle

I confess - I went to the Met last night with a why-the-fuss attitude. Widely mediated Russian soprano Anna Netrebko starring Bellini's Puritani covered with benign reviews of usually fearsome critics. This is always something to be suspicious about. What is beyond debate is she is indeed delicious to look at. And moves gracefully and, even with apparently no stage direction (at least that is the way everybody else seemed to behave), has imagination for some beautiful stage gestures. That is already something. She also had a concept to the role - and now that is pretty commendable and even rare. Although the opera is named I Puritani, her Elvira had nothing cold about her. Her unusually sensuous passionate attitude bridled by noblesse-oblige modesty made her sudden insanity more believable than usual: sexual frustration allied to romantic disappointment could do that. What about the voice then? Netrebko's slightly dark-tinted creamy-all-the-way homogeneous soprano is per se something to marvel. Hers is indeed an admirable voice - and used with unfailing technique. The problem remains if Giulia Grisi's Elvira is a role fit to that voice. If you have Sutherland, Gruberová or Mariella Devia in mind, the answer is obviously "no". Netrebko is no soprano coloratura - but there is nothing to be ashamed about that. Neither was Caballé - and she recorded the part (among many other bel canto roles) for Muti, with Alfredo Kraus. And, as much as Caballé, she adopts this cleverest motto (and that's valid for everything in life): when you have to do something you are not comfortable with, do it your way. So she does - using all her LYRIC soprano powers, she pulled out an expressive touching Elvira, a true Romantic heroine. It cannot be denied that her passagework is not athletic, but slower tempi and solid legato made everything sound dependable and musicianly. Some may complain her in alts were short-lived, but all her excursions above top c were solidly produced. As for the much denounced pitch situation, yes, a couple of notes were not true to the expected frequency, but ultimately… who cares?! Netrebko proved to master the most difficult element in bel canto: she colours her voice with unending variety and is an expert in playing with tempo for expressive purposes. Let's take for example the cabaletta in her mad scene. Instead of trying to dazzle the audience with pyrotechnics (unavailable to her, truth be said), she delicately handled Bellini's strings of notes to depict the wanderings of Elvira's mind with the expertise of an actress. I had read that she would do something like that, but I could only believe it when I saw that. Amazing.

American tenor Eric Cutler took the part of Arturo and, as much as his leading lady, he knows the art of expressive phrasing and, what is more, his Italian sounds really legit. His voice is not exquisite in itself, but it is capably used - and he has physique de rôle. Franco Vassallo tackled Riccardo's act I aria impressively - his is a solid dark baritone - and produced bright forceful high notes with commendable ease. Later he would prove somewhat awkward when Bellinian lines revealed themselves a bit more tangled. As for John Relyea, he is a reliable singer, but his bass sounds curdled too often in this kind of role. Truth be said, how many truly commendable basses have appeared in a Bellini opera? Pity. Patrick Summers accommodates the needs of his singers as this repertoire requires, but does not command his orchestra to produce the graceful and light sounds this score asks for. Sandro Sequi's uninspired staging is supposed to take second place in the proceedings, but the truth is a gorgeous-looking prima donna such as Netrebko deserved costumes that took more advantage of her figure and that made her look more diaphanous (as one could see otherwise in the similarly uninspired production of Lucia from the same theatre) and sceneries that could anticipate the beauties reserved by the composer.

Thursday, January 11th 2006

• An enlightening hour

If you believe the role of theatre is to be something like an aesthetic vaccine to the diseases of society (or even mankind), then David Hare's The Vertical Hour is the kind of catharsis you should not miss. Although the author's aim is certainly ambition - to propose a dialogue between the new and the old world about the present state of international politics - this is expertly handled in the shape of a romantic-cum-family plot involving British and American characters. It is also particularly well chosen to have England and American in a discussion about International Relations (I mean, the so-called social science), since the basis of this subject remains a debate between academics of these countries - as a line in the play says "the country building an empire and the one that dismantled one". Reviews have been unkind to Julianne Moore, a war correspondent transformed into I.R. professor torn between theory and practice. We first see her as a Yale professor discussing with a student - and it is true that something sounds unnatural. Then we see her as a woman meeting her English fiancé's family and then her uniquely economic but straight-to-the-matter acting comes to life. The development of the play might point out why she sounds unnatural as an academic, but it seems that the self-explanatory approach to the professorial side of her character was a deliberate but not flattering decision. The truth is that any actor would suffer the comparison with the immense personality of Bill Nighy. This volcanic actor knows the rare art of interacting at once with his stage partners and the audience, using all physical and verbal resources to add many and many layers to his lines and attitudes - and he also is a complete charmer. Although it is unfair to say he is the reason to see the show, the truth is that he alone is more than worth the ticket price. Andrew Scott makes a virtue out of discretion, especially when the plot requires that he be the opposite of his father. He has a funny yodeling way of speaking, but I suppose this might be a kind of accent or something. Sceneries are beautiful, simple and most efficient. If ever a serious discussion has been presented in a non-patronizing and affecting way, this is it.

Wednesday, January 10th 2007

• Strong weekend

As I could not find tickets to see the theatrical première everybody is talking about in New York, which is Tom Stoppard's trilogy about Russian revolution, I decided to find myself a ticket to any play which looked interesting featured on Timeout - and found Theresa Rebeck's The Scene, with Tony Shalhoub and Patricia Heaton. It is a New York comedy about an unemployed actor, married to a TV-producer who hates it all but has to pay the bills. Their marriage is in one of those decisive moments and the fact that the husband finds a thoroughly young-and-blond-and-brainless mistress does not help it at all. It all might look clichéd, but dialogues are fast and funny (there are even two hilarious and complex long monologues, a tour-de-force for both actors and playwright). Probably because the author is on the side of the betrayed married woman, the blond girl who came from Ohio to no good lacks substance - and the fact that this key role is a bit schematic spoils not the fun, but the general structure of the play, making for a predictable ending. But I am being really really picky about that - I had lots of fun with the brilliant staging, the ingenuous settings and the truly great casting. I have seen Patricia Heaton in Everybody loves Raymond on TV and she is really fine, but on stage she is terrific: she is a true bête de scène, with energy and charisma to spare and an unfailing comic timing. Tony Shalhoub sustains the challenge and infuses his acting with the necessary ambiguity without which his character would seem matter-of-fact. Cristopher Evan Welch is excellent as the couple's best friend, finding depth in a role who seems to be a sidekick but builds (both in the text and in his action) to a pivotal character in the play. Last but not least, Anna Camp plunges 100% in the dumb-blond act, as we say in Brazil, unafraid of being happy, i.e., she takes it and makes the truly best of it, even if one could question the principle of the whole thing.

• Keeping up with high positions

As I have mentioned previously, Lorin Maazel's tenure with the New York Philharmonic seems to have restored the orchestra to its glory. On Beethoven's concerto for violin op. 61, Pinchas Zukerman offered silken full-body sound and a certain belcanto-ish phrasing as you would only find in Renata Scotto's Norma live from Milan with Riccardo Muti, so varied and humane the expression in his phrasing. His elegant portamenti fitted Zubin Mehta's Mozartian conducting.

The second part of the program featured Stravinsky's Rite of Spring in an unusually accurate and transparent performance. One could feel the excitement of the members of the orchestra, who played their solos with intelligence, eschewing all sense of routine. No wonder the audience reacted so enthusiastically.

Monday, January 8th 2007

• Drowned in neon

I am no fan of Julie Taymor's production of Mozart's Die Zauberflöte. I said that when I saw it at the Met last year. I could use lots of fancy words to discuss the concept, but then I am probably not qualified to do that and ultimately, from the audience's point-of-view, it looks simply ugly - as if some rich kid had decided to throw a large-scale thematic birthday party with quaint-looking animators. I know one is supposed to overlook all that and surrender to the beauty of Mozart's music, but when Scott Bergesson is in charge one will have to count with his own's imagination to do that. Sloppy recessed orchestral playing, unclear phrasing, lack of structural clarity - you name it - as one could guess from the settings, this was the bizarre world's version of Mozart's Singspiel. That said, I cannot resist saying that tonight's performance is an improvement from the one I saw last year and the reason is the cast (I had the same conductor then). To start with, the large amount of native German-speakers ensured that dialogues were interestingly done. A good example of that was Cornelia Götz, whose crispy rendition of her text - both spoken and sung - added some zest to her portrayal of the Queen of the Night. She is an interesting artist, but her pretty-toned soprano is rather small-scaled to a large auditorium. She didn't seem fazed, though, and threw her high staccato notes with Swiss-clockwork precision. In the role of Pamina, Scottish soprano Lisa Milne surprised me with the gain in volume in her voice since her 2005 Susanna in the same venue. Her fruity-toned singing fits her affecting well-sculpted phrasing style, but it seems that the increase in size meant the loss of her ability to float a mezza voce, a liability in Ach, ich fühl's, when an extra-careful approach to her roulades spoiled some of the fun anyway. (This takes me to the question - although everybody is always concerned about who is singing the Queen of the Night, experience shows that Pamina is generally the less well sung. Think about that.) Cristoph Strehl's voice is not altogether lovely and might take a hint of bleat in exposed high forte notes. However, his is the right kind of tenor to Tamino - it is flexible, light, easy in its high register and strong enough for the heroic moments. He is also the kind of singer who inhabits his part, making sense of every utterance in an organic and meaningful way. A beautiful performance. Russian baritone Rodion Pogossov excelled in what one calls l'art qui cache l'art - his dark-hued baritone moved along its registers with complete naturalness and he is the kind of guy who does not have to do a lot of things to be funny - a blessing for the part of Papageno, in which most singers tend to try lots of things and end on being implausibly sophisticated. This was my first experience of René Pape's Sarastro live. On records (both Abbado's CD and Muti's DVD), I have found him unidimensional in his noble velvety bass. Live his portrayal acquires a whole new dimension, which goes far beyond the undeniable physic impact of his voice - a certain authority or majesty that reveals the statesman behind the priest. Finally, one could never forget to mention good old Robert Lloyd, rock-solid as the Sprecher, an endearing filigree of this performance.

Thursday, January 4th 2006

• Off to New York

For the following weeks, I'll be in New York and can't help using my now world-famous legendary doc file to keep you updated. In any case, the Mozart page has been updated with a review of Adam Fischer's Idomeneo and a newly rewritten discography of La Finta Giardiniera.

Wednesday, January 2nd 2006

• A gabbler Hedda

It might be strange to say that December is IMO not the best time of the year to be in Rio - it is horribly hot and damp - but loads of tourists attend the fireworks at Copacabana Beach. In any case, I could find a play being performed the day before Christmas' eve. It happened to be Ibsen's Hedda Gabler, directed by Walter Lima, Jr and starring Virginia Cavendish and Charles Friks as Tesman. Local reviews have torn the staging to pieces, exposing the cast's inadequacy among an ocean of bad choices. I don't think that these reviewers' diagnosis is actually precise. I don't think the production suffers from lack of talent, it does seriously lack guiding! I have the impression the director has not a clue about the kind of theatre he was staging there and I can start from the very superficial aspects. For example, the music. When you have Hedda convincing Loevborg to commit suicide voicing over Barber's Adagio for strings, things must be seriously wrong... For those who have never seen a Brazilian soap opera, I must explain that this piece is the genre's housemark for funeral scenes. Other very subtle example is the fact that the actors stood close to the the fireplace as if it was not hot at all. I clearly remember Strindberg's preface to Miss Julie, where he declares his irritation with the fact that, in pre-realist theatre, actors slammed cardboard doors that made no noise. I have to confess that watching a realist play where the fire doesn't burn, except when Hedda has to destroy a manuscript, makes it all look very silly - especially when everything feels so melodramatic (litterarly - actors often had tear-jerking background music to deal with). It is easy to blame actors, but - unless you're speaking of the rare especimen of actors who actually don't need any directing at all or who can transform the silliest directing in something meaningful - it is very difficult to go against the tow. Reviewers have accused Virginia Cavendish of immaturity, but it is unfait to deem it her fault. She could hardly be an illuminating Hedda, but she could indeed be a very acceptable one if not made to play an ill-humoured whimsical vindicative woman who drives her beloved to death only to die herself afterwards. Joan Crawford has played this part in some 20 movies, but only this is not Hedda Gabler. Cavendish is a good actress - she has a good voice, can look aristocratic (even dressed as an operetta character, as in this production) and knows how to shift from graceful to gutsy when this is required (how many young actresses can do that?). You just need to look at Lorena da Silva, the production's Mrs. Elvsted, to see the difference between misguided and helpless. The fact that the usually excellent Ivone Hoffman (playing the aunt) is all wrong in her farsical approach to her character only proves that the director is here to blame.

• Beethoven's inspiration

Agniezka Holland could make a movie in which the old and deaf Beethoven found his inspiration in a young beautiful girl seen only by him and by no-one else. But this would be a blockbuster with lots of explanation in the end of it. One might discuss if it is a good idea to insert a fictional character in Beethoven's late life to bring to the fore the theme of inspiration, but I would say I am always ready to see the theme of Beethoven's inspiration discussed. Holland's latest movies seem to discuss only one movie - the relationship between man and God, especially in what regards the subject of the gift. From this point of view, the choice of Beethoven is particularly fortunate: a man who creates paradise from the bottom of his own misery. Although there is the occasional self-conscious moment, Holland generally hold well the challenge of translating music into images - the "poliphonic" opening scene is a good example. Most reviers disliked Ed Harris's un-dark Beethoven. I must say this is what precisely I really like about his Beethoven. Although it is a fact that he had an impossible temper, I believe that he was the kind of bad-tempered people who use this as a shelter. Thus, as much as in his own Fidelio, it is a woman who defies all hardship to rescue the hero from his dungeon (and Beethoven's apartment was not very different from that... ). As for Diane Kruger, it is good to have something better to associate her name to instead of Troy. Her discrete acting and modest beauty are perfect for her role.

• Broadcasts

It is always desperate when two interesting broadcasts are scheduled for the same time. Such was the case today. I could sample the act I of Franz Welser-Möst's emotional approach to Richard Strauss's Arabella from Vienna, featuring an exquisite delightful performance from Genia Kühmeier as Zdenka. Arabella is a difficult role - 80% of it depends on the singer's immediate vocal (and personal) charisma. That is not entirely Adrianne Pieczonka's case - it is a healthy, velvety and charmingly handled voice, but it doesn't overwhelm you with its beauty from the first note. However, if you give her ten minutes, you're under her spell. Most Straussian sopranos concentrate on producing clean crystalline top notes, but a great deal of Arabella's music is in the middle and low parts of the voice - here Pieczonka's warm low register single her out from most singers in this role. There is another Canadian in this cast - Michael Schade, I couldn't sample his difficult top C in act III, but rarely have I listened to a Matteo whom could I care for so fast. Reviewers have pointed out that Thomas Hampson's Mandryka has been overshadowed in this cast. Yes, this is true, and, as much as Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, his baritone sounds a bit out of sorts in this role, but he finds his way despite of that.

The other broadcast is Bizet's Carmen from London - glamourously cast with Anna Caterina Antonacci as the seductive gypsy and Jonas Kaufmann as Don José. Before I share my impressions, I have one question: why do singers want to sing Carmen? No matter how good the poor woman sings, it is never good enough! Am I exaggerating? Open any "Opera on reviews"-book you have at your place and read about... Baltsa, Troyanos, Berganza, Horne, Bumbry, you name it... You'll discover that, according to what it is written there, only Victoria de los Angeles is perfect. You'll be surprised that, as much as everyone else, you think de los Angeles ok, but you find Baltsa, Troyanos, Berganza, Horne, Bumbry far more exciting. Something nobody can define - "genuine French style" - will be mentioned with the same reverence of a German philosophy concept and this will involve quoting some pre-decent-recording-age singers whom you'll never see quoted anywhere else, even in what regards French repertoire. Before you accuse those reviewers of self-important snobs, think of all the Carmens you saw live. You'll remember that the Don José was great, the Micaela was lovely, the conductor was exciting, the orchestra was colourful, the settings were beautiful... and the Carmen was ok. Now think of all the requirements a good Carmen must have: shapely waist and legs, perfect French, acting and dancing abilities, a voice big enough for act III, but flexible enough for acts I and II... It is a demanding role! But nobody seems to be good enough to sing that - and we're not speaking of Norma, Isolde or Elektra, roles nobody sing to perfection although one is always to forgive flaws of those who are brave enough to face them. As Antonio Pappano said in the interview shown on RAI, the problem with Carmen is that it is a role about which everyone in the audience has a parti pris, everybody is an expert about it, everybody is positive about how the role should be sung and acted. Being the unanimity that corresponds to everyone's fantasies is basically an impossibility - so why bother? Maybe the answer is women's inclination to self-sacrifice... Go figure....

Back to London, Anna Caterina Antonnaci is to my ears the best exponent of the title role since the days Baltsa was the leading Carmen in the world's stages. I've always thought her basic tone sexy. Because of that, she doesn't need to play the sexiness. It is already there. She has all the time of the world to concentrate on interpretation - and that's what she does. I also like the fact that her Carmen has no smiles about her - this goes against the essence of the role. The fact that she is a "free woman" doesn't make her wicked, but doesn't make her adorable either. Vocally speaking, the part seats well in her soprano that always feels more comfortable when the tessitura is not very high. Moreover, her voice is in splendid shape these days - firm, warm and mobile. I understood this is going to be released on video and I am dying to see it, especially since her and her leading tenor are very good actors. Jonas Kaufmann is a complete sucess as Don José, his meaty tenor here proves able to soften when necesary and he evens risks a diminuendo in the end of the flower song. Although his voice suggests rather bulliness than blandness, through tone colouring he suggests the vulnerability that is in the heart of what Don José is. The rest of the cast is not up to the level. Ildebrando D'Arcangelo bass has lost a great deal of plushness and Norah Amselem can be shrieky and unstable. Pappano's conducting concentrated on producing a fast and exciting earthy effect, but more complex ensembles often lacked polish.

• Lucio Silla

The discography of Mozart's Lucio Silla has been retouched with the inclusion of a a review of Adam Fischer's recording made in Denmark. I had forgotten how many hidden jewels exist in this score. It is curious that it usually takes second place to Mitridate when one has to choose one opera seria from Mozart's early years, what is natural since Mitridate is a far more ambitious work and Lucio Silla has some structural problems (such as uninteresting part for the leading tenor). In any case, the keyline is one should really give it a chance now and then.

Saturday, December 30th 2006

• AGAIN La Scala's Aida

Yes, it is about the Alagna situation... I have listened to the broadcast and, although the part is heavy for him, it is always an interesting voice. I don't think I like the artist behind the voice - his attempts of interpretation often sound saccarine to my ears. In any case, you can judge from yourself: Parterre Box has an mp3 of Alagna's performance (in the production's première) and another of Antonello Palombi's Celeste Aida in 1996. I must say that if the years have been kind on Palombi, his cleanly sung Radames is closer to what I would expect of a tenor taking that role, even if the tone is less immediately charming... It is a pity, though, that the DVD with Urmana's Aida won't be released...

Thursday, December 14th 2006

• Aida from La Scala - erratum

It seems that the Ildiko Komlosi's fresh voice has a name: Irina Makarova, who took the role of Amneris in the performance available at the broadcast from RAI.

Friday, December 8th 2006

• Violeta Urmana

I will always regret I have never seen Christa Ludwig live - and I remember when I saw the bizarre Tony Palmer movie on Wagner's Parsifal I thought that seeing Violeta Urmana live would be something of that level. That could be a prophetic moment, because the first time I actually saw that singer was in Munich, in a concert version of Parsifal conducted by James Levine - and, while I watched it, she was my favourite person in the world.

This is a bit the great mystery and thrill of opera - and when my friend Davide said he knew the names of every football player in the Italian championship and also which cast the Vienna State Opera would feature in a certain evening, I guess he hinted at the fact that music lovers support a favourite artist. When a musician - especially a singer, whose results are supposed to be more variable - becomes a favourite, you actually hope that he or she will pull out a terrific performance not because you'll be more entertained by his results, but simply because you wish him well. And when he or she doesn't do well, you want to be the first to expose the weak spots and remind everyone that it is a spot in a large surface of admirable achievements.

And this is my situation with Violeta Urmana. After that utterly seductive Kundry, I would see her some days later in the Prizregententheater, when she offered one of the most exciting Liederabende of one's life. Although one of her encores then was Suicidio! from Ponchielli's La Gioconda, I couldn't forget a series of Lieder by Richard Strauss - and I thought she should sing Ariadne one of these days.

The next year I would have a second "encounter" with Urmana at the Metropolitan Opera as Eboli. Although her good taste, lustrous tone and charisma were all there, I couldn't deny I missed the upfront impact of an Italian's mezzo low notes. And I "decided" her core repertoire was German works.

Six months later, while my boss was scheduling a business trip to New York, I ran to the Metropolitan Opera website to discover that there might be an opportunity for me to see her sing... Ariadne. I made my boss's life hell in order to make the business dates fit with the Met's schedule. A change of dates made me miss the first performance (and a US$ 100.00 ticket). No problem - I got another ticket for a Saturday "matinée" (a funny name for an afternoon performance in any case), but a wrong subway and a problematic taxi made me miss the prologue. My consternation was such that I was offered a student ticket. As a result, although I saw only one Prologue, I saw Urmana's Ariadne twice. And somehow I found her a bit cold - she coped beautifully with Strauss's writing, but there was a lack of animation and/or radiance. And I thought maybe her repertoire was the dramatic soprano's. After all, the broadcast of her Isolde from Rome was short of sensational.

Back to Brazil, browsing at the OSESP website I noticed she would sing Walküre's act I in São Paulo and secured my ticket to this performance, one of the most exciting pieces of singing I have ever heard in my life. Urmana proved me "my" concept of Sieglinde worked. There are volcanic Sieglindes and feminine, vulnerable ones, while Sieglinde should rather be something all about repressed energy oozing in an intense but not explosive manner. That wouldn't be my only rendez-vous with Urmana that year, since I would be introduced to her Gioconda (at the Met as well) - a performance that proved that good taste is not an enemy of passion.

Why am I writing all this? Because today La Scala's season opening performance - Verdi's Aida - has just been broadcast, unfortunately during my working hours and a providential headphone set saved my day. This is supposed to be a singer's heart of darkness - dealing with a difficult work that gets more and more difficult while the audience is famous for getting more and more difficult throughout the length of the opera. And Aida is that kind of role one loves and hates - the tessitura is schyzophrenic and, while you have to deal with that, sometimes a huge orchestra appears right between you and the audience. Over all that, Urmana reigned supreme. Of course many will point out that this or that singer excellent in this or that aspect, but I doubt someone will be able to point out an Aida who - at the same time - has the voice of the right caliber, the high notes and the low notes perfectly connected with the middle register (and who can still be heard), the clear diction, the control of middle voice, the tasteful phrasing and the imagination. All that live.

The surroundings were also more commendable. When I first listened to Ildiko Komlosi she was an amazing Komponist (in Ariadne auf Naxos), also in a broadcast from Italy, with Laura Aikin's Zerbinetta. She had then a lovely high mezzo soprano. I was shocked to see her adapted into dramatic mezzo and her Preziosilla in New York showed her voice largely loosened into a colossal wobble. It was a most positive surprise to see her in very good shape as a classy Amneris tonight. As for Roberto Alagna's Radamès, it is an almost irresistible temptation to say he was overparted, but then I would have to say something like that of, say, Bergonzi (and everybody knows how wonderfully overparted he could be in this role). Of course, Alagna is not elegant nor musicianly as Bergonzi, but who can deny himself the pleasure of listening to a beautiful tenor voice in this repertoire? There are overcautious moments, but I wouldn't accuse him of not knowing how to deal with the occasional difficulty. However, justice be done, Riccardo Chailly deserves all the praises for this intelligent, thorough and uncompromising performance. This is something I would like to keep as a souvenir.

Thursday, December 7th 2006

• Mozart and more Mozart

I am still surprised with the broadcast of René Jacobs' Don Giovanni from Paris. I have seen bad omens after listening to Evangelino Pidò conducting the same opera with a "Jacobs"-cast, but I have to confess that what I heard on the radio is Jacobs's best Mozart opera recording. Yes, he still has the overpresent fortepianist, artifficial ritardando and accelerando effects, but even concentrated on making his own points clear, somehow he knows what Don Giovanni is about in its chiaroscuro of comedy and drama. Maybe because Don Giovanni is the most baroque of the Da Ponte operas (and I don't even need to mention Ah, fuggi il traditor to speak of Handelian connections...). If the recording is something similar to this (I mean, as in the other operas in the series, the strings might sound congested...), this will be a DG one might think of adding to a crowded bookshelf. Olga Pasichnyk is a vulnerable feminine Donna Anna with pianissimi and clear divisions - a real find. Alexandrina Pendatchanska is now in excellent shape as Donna Elvira, a role fit to her voice and temperament and Kenneth Tarver (even deprived of Il mio tesoro - this is the Vienna edition) is an excellent Don Ottavio. Lorenzo Regazzo is a reliable Leporello but Sunhae Im's pretty soprano is entirely devoid of sexiness to my ears (and how is one supposed to sing Vedrai, carino without making everyone think of sex?). As for Johannes Weisser, I understand that the point is having a young Don Juan, an older brother to Cherubino etc etc, but I guess this is a role where experience is everything, even if you want to SOUND young. Weisser is an exuberant artist, but sometimes his natural buoyance interfere with his vocal production, what is natural when one is young and is singing the title role of an opera to an international audience.

Ah, new reviews have been added to the discographies of Mitridate (Norrington and Wentz), Lucio Silla (Cambreling), Idomeneo (Schmidt-Isserstedt) and Clemenza di Tito (Steinberg).

Sunday, November 18th 2006

• Italian vacations

The reason why I haven't posted anything for a while is that I was enjoying deserved vacations in Italy. I hadn't been in Milan, as you know one of my favourite places in this galaxy, since 2000 and I can say only when I got there I realized how much I missed it. It was great to see dear friends again and adjust the memory of the city to its actual appearance. I like the fact that Milan has small museums the collections of which are built from strength, sparing the visitor to wander though enormous galleries with secondary features. It was a pity that the Pinacoteca di Brera had lent Mantegna's Dead Christ to an exihibit in Mantua. In any case, this is just one of many masterpieces, such as Giovanni and Gentile Bellini's La Predica de San Marco a Alessandria, with its fantastic Orientalism, Carlo Crivelli's over-the-top Madonna della Candeletta and the amazingly geometric Piero della Francesca painting, probably the highlight in the museum. Some will say, however, that Milan's most charming museum is the Poldi-Pezzoli, the Milanese answer to the Frick Collection in NY. It is a bit sad to look at the pictures of this amazing palace before being damaged by bombs in WWII and compare it to the present simplified version of some rooms, but the glamour remains unscathed. I was lucky to see there a temporary exhibit featuring works of art from the Liechtenstein Princely Collection, where I discovered Francesco Hayez's absolute masterpiece Il Consiglio alla Vendetta.

Ascanio in Alba - November 4th

I also was lucky enough to visit the Teatro alla Scala and sample a bit of the Mozartian Anniversary celebrations. First performed in Milan, Mozart's festa teatrale Ascanio in Alba barely has a plot: Ascanio is in love with the nymph Sylvia, but his mom, the goddess Venus forbids him to reveal himself as the girl's intended husband. Sylvia is in madly infatuated with the young man, but refuses his advances because she is engaged to an unknown man (i.e., Ascanio). Once the girl's steadfastness is sucessfully tested, Venus blesses the match and gives the couple the city of Alba as a wedding gift.

As one should expect from this early Mozart stravaganza, the score is basically a series of fiendishly difficult arias, charming but not really memorable. In order to make them shine, a team of exuberant, technically undaunted and expressive singers must be gathered - the likes of Gruberová, Popp and Augér. As La Scala has chosen the work to crown their Accademy for the Development of Lyric Singers, one could hardly expect something like that. However, that opera house successfuly cast the show with capable and reliable singers. As Venere, Eleonore Marguerre displayed a bright and flexible high soprano, adept in forceful coloratura, but the tone is somewhat harsh (think of Kari Lövaas and you'll get the point). Taking the role of Sylvia, Irina Kapanadze has a rounder and creamier voice if too grainy and unflowing for this repertoire. On the other hand, Ye Won Joo has a more immediately Mozartian soprano, bright and basically beguiling, but she tried too hard and ended on working her charming voice to strained vocal production. Some high staccato notes and the exposure of her breasts (at the same time!) secured her the evening's most enthusiastic applauses. The only male singer (in a non-castrato perspective) in the cast, Tiberius Simu proved he has clear divisions and a basically pleasant voice, but his tenor gets congested in the lesser ascent to the high register.

I feel inclined to say Ann Hallenberg was in a world appart from the rest of the cast because hers is a velvety, pleasant voice sensitively and musicianly handled, but the truth is her mezzo-soprano feels more comfortable in the higher part of her range - and Ascanio is a rather low-lying part - actually a treat for a countertenor with solid bottom notes, such as Bejun Mehta. In any case, this industrious singer was clearly the audience's favourite.

The cast was generously supported by conductor Giovanni Antonini, who led a vigourous if not extremely fast and abrupt performance (as some might expect in a revival of this kind of work these days). The Academy's orchestra followed his beat with enthusiasm, sense of style and - that might sound amazing for many - love for the score. Only the chorus didn't show the same level of precision.

All in all, what is beyond suspicion is the good taste and imagination shown in Franco Ripa di Meana's production: sceneries and costumes were exquisite and the childish atmosphere in which the story is set goes with a piece composed by a composer who was a boy himself. I have to confess a soft spot for Giorgio Mancini's earthy and ungracious (in the best sense of the word) coreography.

Don Giovanni - November 5th

Since Riccardo Muti left La Scala and Abbado has made his activities as an opera conductor rarer, some might be asking themselves who would carry on the Italian Mozartian tradition. Although Gustavo Dudamel comes rather from Venezuela than from Venice, it seems he has fallen into Abbado's protection. Thus, this Don Giovanni (and a DG release of Dudamel's Beethoven symphonies with an orchestra of his native country) might be a kind of test of fire to see if the young South-American conductor is able to fill in the shoes of his famous predecessors. In fact, La Scala's Don Giovanni could not answer the question. It seems Dudamel has a strong sense of theatre and galvanizes his orchestra to enthusiastic music-making, but in the end I got the impression he was only trying really hard not to have a definable approach and to overgesticulate to the last seat in the theatre. If one asks me if Dudamel's Don Giovanni was fast or slow, I wouldn't be able to tell. For example: he responds to situations in a way that had to do more with making it loud and louder. I can say, however, what I did not hear: clear articulation. Rapid string passages sounded imprecise and muffled, and clarity was not this performance's strongest asset. I have to say I really missed Muti's masterstroke - and if the orchestra keeps to this subpar standard the Milanese will eventually join me.

When it comes to the cast, however, the afternoon reserved good surprises. Anna Samuil does have the metallic voice one would expect from a high soprano from Russia, but that's all I could not be enthusiastic about in her performanc. She has a sizable, homogeneous and flexible voice that can sound sweet when this is necessary. She knows the kind of sound Mozart demands from her, has clear diction and some temperament. Her Or sai chi l'onore was phrased withe elegance and accuracy after a vivid recitative. Non mi dir lacked nothing - long breath, pianissimi, trills and clearly articulated divisions a tempo. Morover, her melisme in the second act sextett crowned the ensemble in a way rarely available in recordings. She is a young singer and still has to mature; her potential, however, is beyond doubt. Annette Dasch was a light creamy-toned Elvira. Truth be said, the part is a bit heavy for her voice and she would now and then sound opaque. Fortunately, Mi tradì happened to be her best moment, even if she was operating really close to her limits. Sylvia Schwartz's capable Zerlina was only hampered by a kind of Judith-Raskin-like old-school vocal production. It must be said that these three singers were quite good-looking and more willing to act than one would generally expect. When it comes to the men, the results are less impressive: Jeremy Ovenden has a nasal unappealing sound and, for a tenor who sings Handel, his runs in Il mio tesoro could be smoother. Alex Esposito's Leporello had all the necessary elements to build a congenial performance (and he is a very good actor) but a substantial voice. His baritone sounded quite small-scaled, especially in La Scala's dry acoustics. Ernesto Panariello has a really forceful voice, but not the depth and darkness a Commendatore should have. When it comes to the title role, there was indeed an outstanding performance from Erwin Schrott. He just has it all - the voice, the attitude, the style and even the looks. His command of Italian declamation is masterly - and he made one interesting intepretative point after the other from beginning to end.

Peter Mussbach's production for the Lindenoper is very elegant in its revolving walls and blue lighting and, when there is a cast skilled as this one, concentrating on acting is always a good idea. However, when one has actors performing in such a naturalistic manner, the odd implausible directorial choice stands out: why Don Ottavio asks servants to fetch Donna Anna's salts and carry away the body, when there is no one there? Why Donna Anna asks where the corpse is when she wakes from her faint she is right in front of it? Why Donna Elvira reads Don Giovanni's victims' names from a wall when the audience sees there is nothing written there? There must be a concept behind all that but in the end it all looks like sloppy work.

Final comments on Milan and off to Rome

I cannot forget to mention this is my first visit to La Scala after the restauration works. My first susprise it is that the formerly ochre building is now white, larger and has no ticket office - you have to get into the unterirdische Gewölbe of the Duomo subway station to get a ticket (no comments). Although you have now the displays with Italian and English texts behind the seat in front of you, as in the Metropolitan Opera House, the seats themselves are still awkwardly placed and you might pay a fortune for a place without any visibility (and no previous explanation about that).

Milan remains a good place to buy discs. There is no Virgin at the Piazza del Duomo anymore, but a FNAC in Via Torino is more than compensation. Ricordi MediaStore at Galleria Vittore Emanuele has some good discounts, but I regret I couldn't find time to visit Buscemi at Corso Magenta. I was in such tight schedule in Milan that I could barely have the time to chill out somewhere, but I owe my friend Davide a visit to a pizzeria named Fratelli La Buffala, a friendly and unpretentious place where I had something delicious called spaghettone, which happened to be a pasta with a sauce of mozzarela and "zucchini pesto".

After the short séjour in Milan, I made a two-day car trip to Rome, an adventure concocted by my friend Bruno. It involved a short stop in Modena, where we got seriously lost trying to find the autostrada, a rather longer stop in Bologna (wonderful town - cozy and animated at the same time - I strongly recommend it), a short sojourn in Siena (with an extra excursion to San Gimignano) - which is something out of this world, of course - and a rather disappointing visit to Perugia (we got there too late and couldn't find an open restaurant). Believe it or not, the trip included a visit to Maranello, where Ferrari has its headquarters. So, yes, I have seen all those red cars and a town entirely made of people dressed in red (they all work for Ferrari...).

Rome

My first appointment in my first visit ever to Rome (can you believe it?) was a program of Mozart's last symphonies with Antonio Pappano and the Accademia di Santa Cecilia, at the impressive Auditorium, Rome's complex of concert halls. I have the impression the Santa Cecilia is not anyone's definition of Mozartian band, but Pappano led them to some beautiful moments, especially the deep and imaginative second movement to Symphony no. 40, which is always difficult to pull out.

I will spare you describing visits to the widely known monuments of Rome, but I register the sheer emotion of entering the Pantheon, of checking that Michelangelo's Sixtine Chapel deserves its legendary reputation, of discovering little shops specialized in products we thought to have disappeared centuries ago...

Favourites in Rome: Palazzo Barberini, my favourite museum; Cartoleria Pantheon, my favourite shop; Giolitti, my favourite ice-cream (and, yes, I've been in San Crispino - the only competition I can think of comes from Gianni in Bologna). It is difficult to make a favourite with restaurants - with a help of my friend's Mario recommendations and Bruno's investigations through Lonely Planet we tried to avoid tourist traps and - considering the quality of our meals - I guess we were particularly successful. All I know is that will be difficult not to miss delicious antipasti with mozzarela di bufala, perfect pasta all'ammatriciana and above all the best caffè macchiato of one's lifetime (and, yes, you can do no wrong by visiting Sant'Eustachio).

Isotta

It seems 2004 was not that far away when one think of the concert version of Wagner's Tristan and Isolde with Chung and the Accademia di Santa Cecilia starring Violeta Urmana. I have listened to a broadcast of one of the performances, but unlike most Romans I've decided to give a chance to the half-crowded opening night of the run of performances of the Wagnerian masterpiece at the Teatro dell'Opera.

I have to confess my surprise with the good quality of the much discredited house orchestra, which supplied us with rich and distinctive sound throughout. Conductor Gianluigi Gelmetti seated his musicians in a bizarre manner: woodwind, lower strings, harps, brass and drums to the left (of the audience) and high strings to the right. In any case, the results were indeed transparents with beautiful interplay of soloists and flutes, oboes etc. Gelmetti is a wise man and went for a kapellmeisterlich, safe and well-behaved performance. His experience in bel canto appeared in his willingness to accomodate the needs of his swingers, the cantabile of accompanying figures and a certain rhythmic straightforwardness, a feature which disfigured a bit the first part of the love duet.

Having listened to Janice Baird's compelling Färberin in a broadcast from Toulouse, I imagined she would be a completely different artst - a bête de scène focused on dramatic expression rather than musical polish. I couldn't be more mistaken. A beautiful tall and slender woman, Baird id the kind of singer who strikes one generalized clichéed dignified gesture after the other. This ended on being particularly frustrating since her dramatic Fach is more ingenuous craftsmanship than nature. As it is, her warm slightly backwards-placed soprano goes easily to top notes but lacks space in the lower reaches. Her diction is accordingly indistinct and a generalized sensuousness stands for interpretation. On the other hand, Marianne Cornetti displayed a true Wagnerian voice as Brangäne - spacious, powerful and clear. She grasps all the necessary elements of the motherly approach to her role and only an occasional overvibrancy in her high register detract from her excellent results. Michele Kalmandy was similarly a strong Kurwenal. His forceful dark bass-baritone is taylor-made to his role and his seems fluent in Wagnerian style.

A woolly Marke won't be the drawback of this performance. Announced to be indisposed, Richard Decker saw his vocal health decline in a perilous manner throughout the evening while the audience expected a replacement that wouldn't take place. It is difficult to write anything about his performance - he seems to have a plausible voice for the role - beefed-up in the top notes though- and showed some understanding of the text, but it would be unfair to say more of a singer in such indisposition.

Pier'Alli staging is a puzzling affair - the sceneries reveal recognisable decors faithful to the libretto albeit distorted for aesthetic affects. However, traditional uninspired costumes, precarious lighting and the kind of stage direction found in those b&w movies with Rosanna Carteri and Mario del Monaco gave me the impression of watching a 1950 staging with a "bold" design. In the end, the performance had a provincial atmosphere and the surprisingly well-behaved and silent Roman audience reserved it a tepid reception.

Photos

On my multiply website.

Saturday, November 18th 2006

 

• Bits of broadcasts

Enticed with the possibility of hearing Eva Mei in the role of Vitellia and Anna Bonitatibus as Sesto, I have tried to rush back home to listen to the broadcast from Hungary of Mozart's La Clemenza di Tito with Danish forces (and a similar cast of a recording the Danish radio promises to release, although nothing about it can be found anywhere) conducted by Adam Fischer. I would certainly like to get hold of these CDs. Unfortunately I have missed the entire first act, but what I heard of the second act made me curious. Fischer has an interesting way with this score - the approach is a bit richer and more lyrical than I could expect, but has nothing traditional-in-the-bad-sense-of-the-word about it. My first shock was to realize how Eva Mei's voice sounded different (and the weird pronunciation of some words), but then I read Brigitte Christensen was taking the role of Vitellia. I had listensen to Christensen's rendition of Non più di Fiori and I have to say her approach seems to have matured a lot. Her Italian is greatly improved, her long-ranged soprano sounds more focused and flexible. Only a certain nerveousness in the end of Non più di fiori made me raise an eyebrow (I have to say I dislike the changing of the plunge to the extreme low notes from "di me, di me, pietà" to "avrà, "avrà pietà" - especially because the text is "avria di me pietà". She is not the first singer to do that, but it must be made clear that it sounds bizarre in Italian. Even if I couldn't listen to Parto, ma tu ben mio, I do not hesitate in saying that Anna Bonitatibus is a major Sesto. A superlative performance - beguiling in vocal qualities and rich in expression. In the role of Servilia, Ditte Andersen was the very portrait of loveliness. As Tito, Stefano Ferrari proves to have amazing ease with divisions, more impressively so in the fast tempi adopted for Se all'impero. However, his voice is prone to losing colour. I would like to hear more from him anyway.

I could still catch, from the end of act II, a fantastic performance of Die Frau ohne Schatten from Tolouse. Pinchas Steinberg proves to have the eye of a goldsmith, building complex structures with patience without letting it sag and excelling in orchestral transparence. Ricarda Merbeth is not the most crystalline Kaiserin around, but her essentially creamy floaty soprano is amazingly resilient to the hard time Strauss intended to give the singer taking this part. She is also ideally contrasted to Janice Baird, a powerful and earthy Färberin, who could adjust beautifully to the most lyrical passages. Doris Soffel's Amme was a good surprise too - rhythmically precise, entirely at ease with the high tessitura and characterful. There was little to listen of the part of the Kaiser, but the few bars I could hear showed Robert Dean Smith under a very positive light. Only Andrew Schroeder as Barak sounded too rough-toned to my ears. It is a shame this performance is not offered as a CD (or even a DVD).

Saturday, October 28th 2006

 

 

More

top

back