Review

The Tucker Gala strikes again

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The annual Tucker Gala always promises an evening of old-fashioned big singing by people who are opera famous and people who are soon to be opera famous. Usually, it’s also a prime example of the hoary journalistic cliche about opera drama playing out backstage as well as on-. This year was no exception: the event fell on my fall break so I made a trip up to see it, only to discovered that four of the singers had canceled, including Anna Netrebko, the one I wanted to see the most. The remaining program was somewhat underwhelming, honestly.


Tucker Gala, 10/12/2014, Avery Fisher Hall. Conducted by Emmanuel Villaume with a pickup orchestra and the New York Choral Society.

This is a gimmicky gala (remember Bryn Terfel and his beer chugging? that might be my non-singing-related Tucker Gala highlight), so I prefer to cover it in gimmicky fashion. This year I have given everyone a rating in the unit most appropriate to their performance, which I fear has ended up sounding like a demented Twelve Days of Christmas but whatever. Emmanuel Villaume conducted and he did an admirable job with the pacing and balances, all told.

This is, as I said, a really old fashioned event. The singers deployed more variations of Baritone Claw (an outstretched, partially clenched hand gesture most common among baritonal gentlemen) than I have ever seen in one event. There was nothing sung in German or any Slavic language, and it seemingly took only a big loud high note for the audience to erupt. I must admit I was somewhat less enthused, particularly because the printed official program didn’t mention Netrebko. This means she must have cancelled at least a few days ago (according to Barry Tucker, she decided she couldn’t sing the day after Lady Macbething, which seems fair enough), and it was poor form for the Tucker Foundation not to announce this but rather continue to publicize the event with her name attached.

Richard Tucker, Rossini, “La Danza”
We opened with the traditional recording of the Foundation’s namesake, the late tenor Richard Tucker, this year singing what was introduced as an unnamed Neapolitan song but which turned out to be not traditional but rather Rossini. It’s a tarantella-type deal with a refrain consisting primarily of “la la la” and “Mamma mia!” and was more rollicking than most of what followed it.
Rating: Three arancini

Fabiano

Michael Fabiano, Verdi, “Tutto parea sorridere… Si! de’Corsari il fulmine!” from Il corsaro
Fabiano was the winner of this year’s big Tucker Award, and a worthy winner he is. He has a strong, ringing tone with a fast, narrow vibrato. His singing is well-controlled and precise, and yet also intense and exciting. He is definitely going places, probably major places. That being said, he’s a lyric tenor at this point and we’re going to have to wait a bit for him to sing the big stuff. He acts primarily with his chin and is afflicted with, for a tenor, a serious case of Baritone Claw.
Rating: Four “all’armis” with a bonus “Andiam’!”

Pretty Yende, Bellini, “Qui la voce… Vien diletto” from I puritani
Pretty Yende is as charming as her name suggests and her voice is sweet and has a unique color. This wasn’t the best vehicle for her talents. The tiny introduction demands she set a strong mood right away and she didn’t, really. Technically, it wasn’t quite there, with some flatness in the high notes and more elaborate ornamentation in second verse of the cabaletta than she could carry off.
Rating: Two appoggiaturas, plus the Best Dress award

Ildar Abdrazakov, Verdi, “Infelice!… e tuo credevi!” from Ernani
This was authoritative and loud and perfectly fine. I think he’s lacking in charisma, though. He did have some quality Baritone Claw.
Rating: Two “all’armis”

Joseph Calleja, Puccini, “E lucevan le stelle” from Tosca
Calleja often lets his beautiful tone do all the work for him and comes across as slightly uninvolved. He’s also pretty light for Cavaradossi. While the opening had a lovely dreamy quality to it, he seemed to lack the heft required for the second half.
Rating: Half a firing squad

Angela Meade, Jennifer Johnson Cano, Massenet, “Esprits de l’air” from Esclarmonde
YOU GUYS THIS PIECE IS BANANANAS! It’s Massenet’s Ride of the Valkyries fused with Lakme’s Bell Song. It is perfect exotic sorceress music. How have I gone to so much opera and not know that this thing exists? It is simultaneously delightful, hilarious, and slightly alarming. I’m not going to describe it any further, I’m just going to have you listen to it in case you have been as deprived as I have.

Thank you, Angela Meade, for singing this with the gusto and high notes such ambitious vocal writing demands, whatever the merits of the enterprise. It wasn’t all audible, but this piece is kind of chaotic. (Meade’s preferred gesture is not The Claw but what might be called The One-Armed Evita.) Jennifer Johnson Cano’s part was smaller but she sounded nice and I wish she had gotten her own solo number to better display her capabilities.
Rating: Ten Valkyries

Ildar Abdrazakov and Ingeborg Gillebo, Mozart, “Là ci darem la mano” from Don Giovanni
Gillebo seems like a perfectly good mezzo, but this isn’t exactly a role in which one can judge for star quality. (This number was originally assigned to Isabel Leonard, who cancelled.) Points for choreography.
Rating: One vaguely outstretched hand.

Lucic demonstrates classic Baritone Claw

Zeljko Lucic, Giordano, “Nemico della patria” from Andrea Chénier
Lucic let out a wimpy evil chuckle at the beginning. He just seems like too nice and decent a guy to be able to pull off villainy. The plus side is that I noticed that this aria actually has some good and pretty parts to it, which are not usually given such sensitive treatment. I usually think Giordano is a relatively crap composer, but to Lucic’s credit this made me wonder if I’ve been missing something. Villaume helped him out with the orchestra volume.
Rating: Two-thirds of a tricoleur

Joseph Calleja, Massenet, “Pourquoi me réveiller” from Werther
At first the answer to the aria’s question seemed to be, “whatever, I’m going back to sleep.” But Calleja seems to be making some effort on the intensity front, and it built up a bit. Unfortunately there was a weird buzz afflicting a few of his forte high notes. No idea what that was.
Rating: Three spring breezes

Michael Fabiano and Joyce El-Khoury, Massenet, “Toi! Vous!” etc from Manon
I believe these two are married, so they’re the Perez-Costello of this year’s Tucker Gala. (Oops, apparently they aren’t married! Sorry, guys!) El-Khoury was new to me; she has a nice rich lyric soprano (sometimes a little harsh under pressure) and is an immediately interesting performer. She injected some welcome energy and intensity into the proceedings and I’d like to see her in a full opera. Fabiano is high octane too, and at times this performance resembled Puccini’s louder and more full-blooded Manon more than Massenet’s. That’s the Tucker Gala for you!
Rating: Four slightly ripped cassocks

Angela Meade, Verdi, “Pace, pace” from La forza del destino
This didn’t appear on the program, not even the updated program. Meade sang with with great control and sensitivity, though at times it could use more color and fullness. While her voice cuts through coloratura, in this kind of rep it can sometimes seem hard-edged and over-bright. Her high C sure is big, though!
Rating: Two intentionally improbable coincidences

Elena Bocharova, Mascagni, “Regina Coeile… Inneggiamo” from Cavalleria rusticana
I’ve never seen this lady live before, I don’t think, but I think there’s a picture of her in the Book of Fachs under “Powerhouse Slavic Mezzo.” She is loud, she is metallic, her dress is from the 70s and is also metallic, and you do not mess with her. You hear her over the whole chorus even when she is singing with them in unison. The New York Choral Society sounded fine in the choral portion of this.
Rating: One Carmen, one Azucena, and an Eboli

Joseph Calleja, Sarazabal, “No peude ser” from La tabernera del puerto
Calleja has a very pretty voice, but I don’t think he has a sexy enough voice for zarzuela. I’m not sure exactly how to define it, but the delivery lacks a certain edge and he’s not quite present in the moment in the way one has to be for this rep to seem exciting. This was fine, but of those present Fabiano would have been better in this number.
Rating: One thing which cannot be
 
Pretty Yende, Bernstein, “I Feel Pretty” from West Side Story
OF COURSE. She kept it classy, but I wasn’t entirely sure what this number was doing here other than punning.
Rating: Two wedding veils

Paul Appleby and Alexandra Silber, “Tonight” from West Side Story
I was less sure of what this number was doing here. Since both the singers who were originally going to do this cancelled (Leonard and Stephen Costello), I’m not sure why they called in these two (who are both fine artists themselves) when they could have called in these two to add to the program and gotten them to sing material more suitable for their talents. They seemed mismatched and both less than ideally cast. Silber would be better off with Rodgers and Hammerstein and Appleby in Mozart or Donizetti.
Rating: A fire escape that only goes up one floor

Fabiano, Meade, and co, Donizetti, Act II finale of Lucia di Lammermoor
I’m not sure about starting this right at the beginning of the Sextet. I think a good part of that number’s magic comes from the big lead-up into it (its stillness in contrast to all the chaos which preceded it), and that’s not something I can imagine when just given the sextet as a cold open. But there’s still the chaos after it, so there’s that. Fabiano did most of that, and rage and anger seems to be one of his strong points so that was good. (I would like to hear him sing something a little more gentle at some point but maybe that’s not his style?)
Rating: Three faked letters and one wedding photographer

Can’t win ’em all. I’m going to hear Janacek’s Glagolitic Mass in Philadelphia later this week, and I still haven’t written about the blistering Netrebko Macbeth, so maybe you’ll hear from me again soon.

Photos copyright Dario Acosta/Richard Tucker Foundation.

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Review

The Barber of Philadelphia

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Opera Philadelphia’s production of The Barber of Seville is an everything-but-the-castanets Spanish extravaganza. Loosely inspired by Pedro Almodovar’s Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown, it largely sustains a manic, self-consciously kitschy style, anchored by Jennifer Holloway (Rosina) and Kevin Burdette (Bartolo), two singers with excellent comic skills.

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Review

The Met’s new Figaro

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The Met narrowly dodged a labor dispute to open their season last week with Richard Eyre’s new production of Mozart’s The Marriage of Figaro. While the irony is inescapable, this production wouldn’t spark a revolution even if it were July 13, 1789. Its heavy, serious visuals belie an upbeat, action-packed, superficial staging with no discernible focus and no evident relationship to the music, and the mostly undistinguished musical performance isn’t enough to redeem it.


Mozart, Le nozze di Figaro. Metropolitan Opera, 9/27/2014. New production directed by Richard Eyre, sets and costumes by Rob Howell, lights by Paule Constable, choreography by Sara Erde. With Ildar Abrazakov (Figaro), Marlis Petersen (Susanna), Peter Mattei (Count), Amanda Majeski (Countess), Isabel Leonard (Cherubino), Susanne Mentzer (Marcellina), Robert Pomakov (Bartolo), Ying Fang (Barbarina)

The setting is updated to 1930s Spain. Rob Howell’s exotically tinged set is a cluster of cylinders, some of which sit on a turntable (the effect is something like a castle built of paper towel tubes with holes in their sides). (Unfortunately you can’t see it very well in any of the pictures I’ve found–the Met rarely distributes full-stage photos.) The cylinders are a very dark, decoratively carved wood which I believe is intended to represent Moroccan design. It’s a World Market, “unique” alternative to the old production’s Restoration Hardware neutrals. The lights work overtime to make it improbably illuminated, but the effect is still dark and hulking, exacerbated by the dull palette of the costumes. The turntable makes the transition between scenes quite smooth.

“Non più andrai”

But, as Intermezzo said about some other rotating stage, “the only thing that is revolutionary about it is that it turns around.” The design never establishes any connection with the story, and the whole updating seems completely superficial. Why are we in the 1930s, why are we in quasi Morocco, and what does this have to do with anything? One could put the cast in eighteenth-century costumes and the effect of the blocking and characterization would be exactly the same. (Does Team Marcellina start bopping up and down near the end of the Act II finale where they sing “che bel colpo, che bel caso”? Yes, of course they do.) When I was discussing this production with my colleague Lucy, she noted that the sets are strangely bereft of media–newspapers, magazines, books, anything–and indeed, this house doesn’t seem to have anything to do with anything happening in the greater world of the 1930s. And for me, absent any plausible dramatic connection, something about the production’s visual world seems profoundly tone deaf to the score it inhabits. Mozart’s language is one of structural clarity, harmonic transparency, and linear development, and the set’s dense surfaces and circular figures don’t work against the score in a productive way, they’re just wrong. It strikes me as a set for a Baroque opera, not Mozart. (I thought of Karol Berger’s study Bach’s Cycle, Mozart’s Arrow here.)

Like the set, the staging favors the accumulation of detail over narrative precision. There is always something to see, but the “business of the house”–servants bustling around doing their jobs–does not contribute to the whole. Also, Cherubino’s hormones have infected the whole cast with a lust so urgent that Susanna’s pickiness really does seem anomalous. (This sort of “roll in zee hay”-type Figaro was also evident in the last revival of the old production.) This is present from this new production’s opening gesture, in which a naked lady rushes downstage and quickly covers herself up. It doesn’t seem to matter who she is or where she’s coming from–though she appears ashamed–just that there she is, shirtless. Eyre’s production is suffused with casual eroticism (the type that is marketed as “look! opera is sexy!” to a skeptical public), but an unbuttoned quality leaves little space to stage the hierarchical relationships which drive the plot, from Figaro’s relationship with Marcellina to Barbarina and beyond. When Figaro becomes a sex comedy, it loses all its edge. After all, the Count and Susanna’s would-be relationship is obviously not about sex but about power.

“Voi che sapete”

In short, the production is the rush job that we know it was. In the Times, Eyre described himself as choosing from the “opera supermarket” of the cast’s previous experiences, and that recycled, collage approach is very evident. Eyre is competent, and it’s never unwatchable or even as dull as Michael Grandage’s Don Giovanni. But the production packs no punch at all, never aspiring to gravity or significance beyond the farce, and that’s profoundly disheartening. A new production is not only a time to replace aging costumes but also to rethink a work’s meaning, to present a sharp and focused point of view, and the latter half of that equation does not seem to have occurred to anyone. (It wasn’t evident in Eyre’s Werther last season either.)

A stellar cast and musical performance could have made this disappointment less acute, but it was pretty middle of the road. James Levine’s conducting was worryingly erratic, sometimes picking beautiful textures from the orchestra, and in the finales building quite nicely, but more often losing all momentum altogether. In all, this was a very slow performance. The tempos seemed to stress out some of the singers, and certainly sapped the dramatic energy. The very enthusiastic continuist attempted to make up for this single (well, double) handedly with torrents of notes in the recit, but that wasn’t the best effect either. (Would it kill the Met to use a fortepiano sometime?)

Count and Susanna, I mean, Countess

While the cast didn’t seem to have many united goals, there were some standouts. The best was Peter Mattei’s Count, a known quantity to me. This was the same interpretation I saw him do in the old production–on a power trip, and dangerous–which isn’t the point of a new production, but it works. His voice is as velvety as ever and his “Contessa perdono” is the most beautiful in the business. Marlis Petersen’s Susanna was also successful. Vocally, she’s a somewhat odd casting choice; she’s spent most of her career in the stratospheric range of Lulu and this sounds like it may be uncomfortably low for her. Sometimes the tone became a bit unfocused and spread. But she is refined and elegant, and a good actress.

Countess

Amanda Majeski’s Countess (her debut) tended to stay in the shadows, showing little of the passionate characterization so evident in her Philadelphia Donna Elvira earlier this year. But her singing is interesting and promising: an unusually distinctive sound, cool and reedy with a slightly fluttery vibrato (she reminds me a little of Anne Schwanewilms), very nice up to a slightly underwhelming top. Her “Dove sono” was successfully meditative, but the phrases lacked the last bit of direction–probably because of Levine’s funereal tempo.

Two of the singers had obvious appeal to the audience but I found them puzzling. Ildar Abdrazakov’s Figaro was likeable enough but one-dimensional and generalized. His singing is perfectly reliable and clean (he even sneaked in some ornaments near the end of “Se vuol ballare,” the only cast member who managed as much as a passing tone), but he’s not very complex or magnetic. And I just didn’t get Isabel Leonard’s Cherubino. She was the victim of several of Levine’s stranger conducting decisions, and she stayed with him, but her dry and biting tone is unattractive and her acting was irritatingly over the top, more mugging than portrayal. In the smaller roles, Ying Fang was a smashing Barbarina who sounds like she’s ready for bigger things, Susanne Mentzer was unusually tasteful as Marcellina, and substitute Robert Pomokov was perfectly fine as Bartolo.

This wouldn’t be bad for a third revival, but for opening night it’s unfortunate.

My Beaumarchais beat goes on tomorrow night at Opera Philadelphia’s Barber of Seville. (I last blogged about Figaro and Barber too, oddly enough. Oh well, can’t really beat ’em.)

Photos copyright Ken Howard/Met.

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Review

Metropolitan Opera, 2014-2015

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Artist’s rendering of what has happened at the Met over the summer

Met single tickets go on sale to the general public tomorrow, and while the season’s start still is a major question mark due to seemingly intractable labor disputes I think we’ll hopefully have some opera at some point or another? Because of this uncertainty I don’t imagine a whole lot of people will rush to the box office tomorrow, but I have written a preview of everything that is currently scheduled to happen anyway. I have, spoiler, moved to Philadelphia–more on that later–so I won’t be going to a large number of these, but I will nonetheless offer my suggestions as to what you should get yourself to the Met to see, what the world would not miss should it not occur, and so on.

(Side note: I write this from bucolic Annandale-on-Hudson, where I am dramaturging for the Bard Music Festival. I’m working on a Schubert jukebox operetta (as well as a genuine Schubert Singspiel) which a) exists and b) is going to be performed tomorrow at 5:30. It is a charming program and the cast is lovely, please stop by.)

Anyway, on to the Met! You can peruse the full offerings with dates and such here. The HD broadcast schedule can be found here; productions with these broadcasts are marked HD.

NEW PRODUCTIONS
Le nozze di Figaro. Fearless innovator predictable routiner Richard Eyre takes on my personal favorite opera, promising a setting in 1920s Seville. Let us hope there will not be too many of the Spanish clichés so beloved in the opera house. Marina Poplavskaya sometimes give incredibly moving performances but she has none of the elegance and precision required for Mozartian singing and I am dubious about her as the Countess. Our Countess will be relative unknown Amanda Majeski (replacing Marina Poplavskaya), who I saw sing an impressive Donna Elvira in Philadelphia last spring. In the rest of the cast, Marlis Petersen is always a class act, as are Peter Mattei and Ildar Abdrazakhov. Levine conducts, probably slowly. (Opens the season on September 22.) HD

The Death of Klinghoffer. Repeat after me: they cancelled the broadcast, not the live performances. This is a production from the English National Opera, where it was widely discussed but, as far as I know, never as threatened as this production already has been. The timing is, to put it mildly, delicate and the Met is in a vulnerable spot. I’m not holding my breath for them to show any backbone, but let’s hope this actually makes it onstage. (Premiere on October 20, or one can hope.) If you haven’t read up on this piece, you might start with Robert Fink’s essay.

The Merry Widow. Renée Fleming takes on Hanna Glawari’s forgiving tessitura in the company of Nathan Gunn, who is ideally cast as Danilo. Jeremy Sams again provides a translation. Susan Stroman promises an all-dancing extravaganza. I have major opinions about this piece and you can read them over there. If we’re lucky this will be less smug than last season’s trying Fledermaus. Personally I think it would be best if Stroman put her skills to work on something sprawling and weird and Louis XIV-era French, but I realize that is unrealistic. (Premiere December 31.) HD

Iolanta in Baden Baden

Iolanta/Bluebeard’s Castle. A double bill in a production by
Mariusz Trelinski that was done in Baden Baden a few years back.
Netrebko is in Iolanta (which is by Chaikovsky), and she should be
great, and Beczala should be good too. The
Bartók stars Nadja Michael, presumably the opera is obscure enough and
chromatic enough and in Hungarian enough that most people won’t be able to tell if she is on
pitch or not. Gergiev is conducting so expect some fun on that front.
(Premiere January 26.) HD

Gelb’s Boognosticator predicts zero boos for these costumes

La donna del lago. A DiDonato-Flórez star vehicle, though look for fabulous mezzo Daniela Barcellona to steal the show right out from under them, as she did when I saw almost this exact cast in London. That London production was supposed to go to the Met but it was, um, not that great and a Paul Curran one from Santa Fe is showing up instead. Fun fact: the London production was itself a replacement for another production that flopped in Paris which was originally bound for both London and the Met. Third time’s the charm, I guess. It’s a tricky opera to make theatrically compelling, but this cast does do some very impressive singing in it. (Premiere February 16.) HD


Cavelleria rusticana/Pagliacci: The director is David McVicar, a competent director whose Met work has mostly been really boring. I actually have never seen either of these operas, which I know is weird, so I guess I will, though Marcelo Álvarez in both of the big tenor roles isn’t making me too enthusiastic about it. Fabio Luisi conducts and this should be in his wheelhouse, the ladies include Eva-Maria Westbroek and Patricia Racette. (Premiere April 14.) HD (Note: corrected because I originally named the director as Bartlett Sher, who I think was originally scheduled for this. Small mercies.)

REVIVALS
Aida. Business as usual, unless the horses go on strike. Or is it a donkey? I hear Latonia Moore is worth hearing in the title role, but I have not yet heard her myself. I hope the Met sometime casts her in a role other than Aida, which is a bit of a trap for African-American sopranos. At least it sounds like her voice is the right Fach for it. I have heard powerhouse Monastyrska, who is in some of the other ones. Berti and Giordani are the uninspiring Radamèse and Olga Borodina will try her high note luck in some performances. Beware, Domingo is conducting a few of these.

Un ballo in maschera. I liked this production more than most people did. It has atmosphere. Sondra Radvanovsky is back, which is good. I anticipate Piotr Beczala might be stretched a bit thin as Gustavus III.


Barber of Seville. The donkey might go on strike. Or is it a horse? Or is this the one that inexplicably has scantily clad ladies towing Figaro’s cart? I think it is, but I haven’t seen it since the premiere. This is the full Italian one, not the short kiddie version. HD

La bohème. Zeffirelli business as usual, except December 10 and 13 may be your only chances to hear The Elusive Chanteuse Angela Gheorghiu–and not “may be” because she is apt to turn up for something else. Soon-to-be-major soprano Sonya Yoncheva shows up in January. Frizza conducting is not good news.


Carmen. Donkey on strike? Is there a donkey? Anyway, Jonas Kaufmann shows up for two nights only to sing Don José with Elina Garanca in March. You can also see Anita Rachvelishvili, Roberto Alagna, Aleksandrs Antonenko, Anita Hartig, and Ailyn Pérez in various casting permutations. HD


Les contes d’Hoffmann. Grigolo! Sometimes Polenzani! Plus people! I just saw Hibla Gerzmava (the Antonia) in London recently and I didn’t write about her but I found her interestingly nuts and her voice big and exciting. Levine conducts some of these. HD

Go Liannaaaaa!



Don Carlo. Nézet-Séguin is promising. Do your best to see the one performance on April 15 where impressive and immensely likeable Lianna Haroutounian replaces Barbara Frittoli (who when I saw her in this in 2013 was lackluster at best).

Don Giovanni. Luca Pisaroni as Leporello! One reason to stay awake through this incredibly boring production.


Ernani. WHY DOES THE MET DO ERNANI ALMOST EVERY SEASON? THIS IS CAPSLOCK LEVEL CONFUSING TO ME. I mean, it’s alright, but it’s not that special. Why can’t they occasionally put on some Janacek or something?


Hansel and Gretel. The giant fish waiter better not go on strike, because this production (Richard Jones) is my favorite. And the score is fabulous Wagner-with-tunes. Really great for everyone.


Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk. A Graham Vick production which I haven’t seen. Eva-Maria Westbroek is known to be terrific in the title role. Personally this opera creeps me the hell out but it is still a must-see.

Lucia di Lammermoor. What if the greyhounds Irish wolfhouds go on strike? Joseph Calleja, a singer with the voice of an angel and the temperament of a golfer, will make beautiful noises as Edgardo. Locally unknown quantity Albina Shagimuratova is Lucia.

Macbeth. Anna Netrebko takes on the beast of a Lady. If there is a strike this one will be the big early in the season loss for me. Also involves Lucic, Calleja, and Pape. HD
Preview:

Manon. Oh yeah, that production. The one with Netrebko in a pink dress, but a long one. I forgot it, somehow, it wasn’t too memorable. This time Damrau and Grigolo are in it and she should be excellent.

Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg. Finally some Wagner!!!! It’s about time. Levine will conduct and it will make up in hours what we missed last season. This is a big, heavy, and totally literal-minded Otto Schenk production and features Johan Botha as Walther. I know he sings this one really beautifully and there is enough going on around him to distract from his refrigerator-like stage deportment. Johan Reuter sings Sachs, with an army of thousands. HD

The Rake’s Progress. Up and coming Layla Claire and Paul Appleby in a tear-jerker about a countess who loved her gardener the only standard rep opera to involve a bearded lady.

La traviata. The production that proves that Regietheater can sell at the Met, something people seem to still not believe. Whether the technically adept but bland Marina Rebeka can continue this, though, remains to be seen. Ludovic Tézier should be a Gérmont worth hearing.

Die Zauberflöte. The dancing bears might go on strike. Surprise debutant from a little bit ago Pretty Yende sings Pamina.

See you there. Or not. TBA!

PHOTO CREDITS: Iolanta: Baden-Baden/Andrea Kemper. Don Carlo: Bill Cooper, Donna del lago: Ken Howard.

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Favorite Posts, Review

You say you want a revolution (Figaro times two)

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Like the ending of Don Giovanni, the finale of Le nozze di Figaro restores order and hierarchy. But, with the benefit of hindsight, we know that this peace between master and servants is a tenuous one, and only a few years later the underclass would not be so placated. Today, its title characters’ suggestions of insurrection may be less incendiary than they were at the opera’s premiere but they are instead indexical—well, sometimes, at least. The Ghost of French Revolutions Future occasionally haunted the two Figaros I saw recently*: the McCarter Theatre’s production of Beaumarchais’s play in Princeton and the Royal Opera House’s revival of Mozart’s opera in London.

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Review

Don Giovanni hits on Philadelphia

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“Maybe choosing this particular lady wasn’t one of my best ideas”

Don Giovanni never reveals what is going on inside his head. As he tears his way through the opera bearing his name he never stops to explain himself. His only important solo moments are extremely brief: the Act 1 “champagne aria” and Act 2 serenade. He is the opera’s mysterious center, but he also can, sometimes, more or less disappear. Such is the situation in Opera Philadelphia’s current production, which boasts a fine musical performance with a few first-rate singers, a dubious production, and not very much Don.


Mozart, Don Giovanni. Opera Philadelphia at the Academy of Music, 4/25/2014. Production by Nicholas Muni, conducted by George Manahan. With Elliot Madore (Don Giovanni), Joseph Barron (Leporello), Michelle Johnson (Donna Anna), Amanda Majeski (Donna Elvira), David Portillo (Don Ottavio), Ceceila Hall (Zerlina), Wes Mason (Masetto), Nicholas Masters (Commendatore)

Ottavio and Anna

Nicholas Muni’s production is period-minimalist, the set only a few sliding walls. He seems to want to keep the sight gags and comedy of a lighthearted work, but also wants to focus on Catholicism (there is also an anachronistic painting motif in the set, whose significance escapes me). The result is rather shallow, and doesn’t really do anything to place the Don himself. The production’s best moments are the most straightforward storytelling ones, some of which make the characters really come alive. I liked, for example, the point when Donna Anna rushes back to her father’s body as Don Ottavio promises to be her father too. Donna Elvira gets the best character arc, going from a trouser-wearing lady of vengeance to a Catholic redeemer. But the frequent brandishing of crosses feels heavy-handed at best, and much of the action is far too cluttered and has little relationship with the music (particularly the confusing staged overture).

Muni also supplies Don Giovanni with a number of nameless onstage conquests, many of whom are unlikely (an old woman, a nun, etc.). It is clearly meant to be funny. But by using women as mute props–and by suggesting we laugh at their unlikely ravishment–the production isn’t only telling us something about Don Giovanni. It’s also validating his view of the women as silent, disposable objects, and moreover it is built on the assumption that the women are themselves grotesque. This is unfortunate. Similarly, I am on the record as a major non-fan of suggestions that Donna Anna has a candle burning for Don Giovanni, and this production ticks that box too. A few of the production’s other failures are merely logistical: the Commendatore’s tomb appears in the cemetery scene and then stays there, making the singer’s entrance both redundant and not very terrifying. And one should not describe the descent down to hell, which is simply cheesy.

This production, however, is worth seeing for the three women alone, all of whom gave compelling performances. Amanda Majeski has just the right incisive precision for Donna Elvira, though her tightly focused soprano thinned out a bit at the top. She made “Mi tradì” a real story instead of an obstacle course. Michelle Johnson, as Donna Anna, has a glamorous, rich voice, and might be a star in the making. Her “Or sai chi l’onore” was big and exciting. She seems, however, more of a verista than a Mozartian at heart, and her phrasing was sometimes wanting in elegance, particularly in “Non mi dir,” which is not her home turf. And while I am not normally on Team Mezzo Zerlina, Ceceilia Hall was a model of graceful musicality, and her acting was sympathetic without being cloying or cutesy. She and Wes Mason’s likeable, well-sung Masetto were the only convincing couple onstage (OK, this might have been intentional).

Teh peasants

The men were not as strong. As Don Ottavio, David Portillo has a sweet tone, can vary the color nicely, and unwound some good long phrases, though he sounded more at home in “Dalla sua pace” than in “Il mio tesoro.” (I enjoyed getting both of these arias, though.) Joseph Barron was a competent but unmemorable Leporello, and the sight gags of large corsets (and a really tiny corset–which, um, yay? haha?) and a really massive list stole his big number.  Unfortunately I have left Elliot Madore’s Don Giovanni for last. While the character may be a mystery, Madore’s wide-stance, eyebrow-wiggling antics never transcended frat boy petulance or suggested anything more than a bro on a bender. His deepish baritone is fine for the role, though I wish “Deh vieni” had floated a bit more. While he was always energetic, the interpretation seemed haphazard–the production could have done a lot to help him out here.

The orchestra mostly sounded clean and clear. George Manahan’s tempos tended towards the leisurely and coordination wasn’t always perfect, but the finales were well-paced. More than in most operas, it was a real shame to lose the stage bands, who here were heard from the pit. Despite its dramatic faults this is a performance that is worth hearing.

Don Giovanni continues through May 4.
Photos copyright Kelly and Massa.

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Review

Das war in Ordnung, Mandryka

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I am sorry not to blog; I have been facing major academic deadlines and decisions every day. When I finish working, I have found myself too spent to consider writing something else. But I saw Arabella at the Met last Friday, and I have thoughts. I enjoy this opera a lot, probably more than it strictly merits. The beatific parts like the Act 1 soprano duet, Act 2 love duet, and last five minutes are, for a Strauss fan, just so good in their extraordinary concentration of what we love about Strauss opera. And even the talkier passages are enlivened with brilliant orchestral details. Hofmannsthal’s libretto is an interesting, subtle allegory of Gründerzeit Austro-Hungarian politics (Austrian Arabella needs to reconcile with Mandryka, the uncouth East). This is something that almost no one seems to notice–probably because it tends to be concealed by the color and expressive directness of Strauss’s music. But I’ll stop. As may be obvious, I’ve “worked on” this piece (as academics say), and you can read that essay later (it isn’t out yet).

This Met revival is, alas, not a particularly good Arabella. It has the odd misfortune to get the single most difficult role unusually right–that would be Michael Volle’s excellent Mandryka–and have issues in the comparatively easy lyric soprano department. Word was that this revival was originally scheduled for the phenomenal Anja Harteros, who withdrew a while ago. Her replacement in the title role, Swedish soprano Malin Byström, was new to me. She certainly has a lovely, warm tone, and the voice is very big in the middle. But her registers are unbalanced, and the warmth stopped around the F sharp at the top of the staff. Alas, Arabella is a role that really depends on easy, beautiful high notes at the big moments, and there Byström suddenly sounded insecure and thin. She is a decent but generic actress, lacking a certain glamor and vulnerability to bring this part off (my friend thought she was matronly–she certainly didn’t seem like the flirt Zdenka calls her).

She didn’t have much help from the pit or rest of the cast. Philippe Auguin’s busy conducting had little sense of the work’s flow, nor did those beatific bits glow as they should. Juliane Banse was a later replacement as Zdenka, and was unhappily cast. I’ve enjoyed her singing in other roles, but honestly her Zdenka days are past her by a decade or so. Her grainy, dark, smallish voice sounded labored, particularly in the higher ranges, which have to be even sweeter and easier than Arabella’s. This is not a difficult role to cast and I wonder why the Met could not locate someone more suitable, even on short notice.

Roberto Saccà similarly sounded underpowered and worn as Matteo. He was nearly sung off the stage by Brian Jagde as third-in-line suitor Elemer. Jagde is a powerful Heldentenor-in-training. I’m not sure if he could sing Matteo–it’s rather high–but I certainly would like to hear him in something where he has more to do. The other supporting roles such as Adelaide, the Fortune Teller, and Waldner were uniformly poorly sung. One suspects that all the good Arabella supporting players are in Salzburg at present. I feel sorry for anyone who is obliged to sing chirpy Fiakermilli, but I still should report that Audrey Luna sounded very nasal.

“Mandryka, you look dehydrated.”

The main redeeming singer, however, was Michael Volle as Mandryka. This is an awfully difficult role and almost no one sings it well. (I say this having seen the opera a few times and having seen every Arabella DVD in print and several that aren’t in print. See above, academic work.) Volle does it with ease and character, a solid warm tone and good diction. He’s a bit too comic for my taste–his Mandryka is very much a bumbling, fumbling bumpkin–and reads on the older side (he’s not Bernd Weikl in the Schenk TV movie), but he gives the character texture and life, and his singing has real dignity.

The Otto Schenk production can perhaps be blamed for the dramatic blandness. Productions of this opera tend to tilt towards Strauss’s opulence rather than Hofmannsthal’s grit, and this one is no exception. If the Waldners are so broke, I would suggest to them that they still have a lot of knickknacks they could put in hock. The staging of Act 3 in particular is cluttered and over-busy. (I also think this act also benefits from some cuts–I think this might have been the least-cut Arabella Act 3 I’ve seen.) When a lighting gel fluttered down from the flies during Arabella and Mandryka’s love duet, it would have been a Verfremdungeffekt if we were in certain German opera houses, but here it really wasn’t.

I don’t think I’ve yet seen a fully convincing production of this opera, one which balances the alternating enchantment and motor-like energy of the music with the hardheaded, operetta-like libretto–is it too foolishly optimistic to suggest that the Met try to come up with one should they produce it again? Or to some other opera house: has the often-underrated Claus Guth directed this one yet? He has a real eye for this period, and for the thin line between fantasy and reality. I think he might be your guy.

I also have thoughts about Platée from the other week. More precisely, I want to write about Simone Kermes, because she is something else. Maybe soon!

Strauss, Arabella. Metropolitan Opera, 4/11/14.

Photos copyright Marty Sohl/Met.

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Review

Met plans “old media” outreach

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While HD cinema broadcasts are generally considered to be the signature achievement of Peter Gelb’s Metropolitan Opera intendancy, the Met announced today that they will be launching several new “old media” initiatives. “Classical music has been fixated on finding a ‘new audience’ via Facebook and Twitter,” Gelb noted, “but most of our audience members don’t know what a Twitter is.” This project will include a number of publications such as books, sheet music, a TV miniseries, and LaserDiscs. “Maybe we’ll pick up some hipsters while we’re at it,” Gelb noted optimistically.

Forthcoming is Gelb’s History of Opera, a 300-page book to be published in May. Gelb’s history promises an easy-reading, contemporary perspective on why we love opera, particularly for those who find Carolyn Abbate and Roger Parker’s monumental recent history insufficiently focused on the nineteenth century. (Readers are advised that the five pages devoted to the seventeenth century deal solely with the furnishings of Handel’s birth house.) For example, we discover that Mozart is great because conductors love him and a reasonable number of people can sing his work (though Gelb does not explain why he manages to locate these singers only occasionally).

Gelb’s chapter on star image through bel canto opera is innovative, though purists may object because he doesn’t mention Maria Callas and/or Joan Sutherland in every sentence. The chapter on Wagner is less successful, betraying a fascination with the technology of Bayreuth without clearly noting why we should care. London readers will be happy to find the chapter on production concerns solely the Royal Opera House and English National Opera. Reports that the book was ghostwritten by a snarky, underfunded musicology grad student could not be confirmed.

A recommender is rumored to be a new addition to the Met’s website

The second major project will be a TV miniseries, to be hosted by Met favorite Danielle De Niese. It is promoted as a combination between recent hit Cosmos and The Real Housewives of New Jersey, providing both a glimpse into the glamor and drama backstage (focused on De Niese’s own performance in the major diva role of Despina) and a 4D visualization of the Met house, promising an enhanced audience experience that is unmatched by any actual visit to the opera house. (Also, no one will make a cursory search of your handbag.)

Subsequent episodes will feature Diana Damrau’s hilarious Meryl Streep impression, stand-up opera comedy by Matthias Goerne, and a workout video led by Yannick Nézet-Séguin. Anja Harteros has unfortunately withdrawn from the series for personal reasons; she will replaced by Angela Gheorghiu, who is sure to be a reality TV star. Judges Antonin Scalia and Ruth Bader Ginsburg will be playing the roles of Statler and Waldorf.

Additional elements of the old media project includes branded sheet music, which Gelb heard really raked it in for a certain Viennese theater back in 1908. An opera karaoke machine is also planned. When asked if this karaoke might be part of the Met’s contingency plan in the event of a strike in September 2014, Gelb grimaced and said, “no comment. Have you always wanted to sing Cherubino, by any chance?”

Previously:
Met plans outreach, new Ring Cycle
Met announces new initiatives

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Review

Prince Igor at the Met

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Director Dmitri Tcherniakov’s highly anticipated Met debut is a new production of Borodin’s Prince Igor. It seems a safe corner of the repertoire to cache a potentially incendiary production—a rarely-produced, textually unstable work from Russia, a nation that has generally been considered peripheral to the operatic tradition as a whole. In other words, it’s not an opening night production of La traviata at La Scala, where Tcherniakov was, er, not exactly warmly welcomed. In contrast, this Prince Igor is subtle, unflashy, and sometimes as fragmentary and elusive as the opera text it stages. It’s musically strong, if not overwhelming, but in all is quietly radical.


Borodin et al., Prince Igor. Met Opera, 2/21/14. Production directed by Dmitri Tcherniakov, conducted by Pavel Smelkov with Ildar Abdrazakov (Igor), Mikhail Petrenko (Galitsky), Sergey Semishkur (Vladimir), Oksana Dyka (Yaroslavna), Anita Rachvelishvili (Konchakovna), Stefan Kocan (Khan Konchak).

(I can’t promise to cover everything here, my head is currently afflicted by both the flu and the dissertation. About one month from the big deadline! But I’d like to talk about a few things I thought were interesting in this production. Excuse me if I am scattered and/or even less edited than usual.)

The “reconstruction of the authentic Prince Igor” that this production is being called in some Met-publicity parts is a misnomer, because this opera never saw a stage during its composer, Borodin’s, lifetime and a lot of the completion done by Rimsky-Korsakov and Glazunov is necessary just to put the thing on with an orchestra in the pit. This edition claims to include all of Borodin’s music (Rimsky and Glazunov didn’t use all of it), puts in an unusual version of Igor’s last act monologue, interpolates some music from Mlada in a rather stunning ending, and, most drastically, reverses the first two acts so the Polovetsian one, usually number two, comes first and we return to Igor’s court in the second. (This latter move is based on some textual evidence on whose authority I am not qualified to comment.) Anyway, I suggest we stop getting overly hung up on textual cleanliness, particularly when we’re dealing with an opera that’s always going to be messy.

 

Tcherniakov’s main setting, Igor’s palace, is a big and solid medieval-looking hall. The scenes are interspersed with high resolution black and white films of the soldiers and, eventually, Igor himself getting badly hurt in battle. When he wakes, the rest of the act takes place solely in his head, in the land of the barbarian hoards, he’s landed in a flowery field that seems to be the offspring of Klingsor and Armida. In this fantasy space, he (and his son Vladimir) must decide to, as Flower Maidens and Armidas, etc. always put it, to Submit to Pleasure, here expressed in some stretchy sort of ballet. Pleasure is also personified by Konchakovna, the throaty mezzo daughter of the local Khan, who is rather a break in Fach when it comes to vaguely fairy-like young maidens. Then we return to Igor’s court, where the action is kind of surprisingly conventional and literal, and Igor’s brother-in-law Galitzky is making a bacchanalian mess of things. Finally, at the end, Igor returns and faces a large clean-up job. The ending, to the redemptive strains of Mlada, is beautiful and poetic.

I think the most interesting thing about this production is how it’s Russian but without being totally about Russian history in the way we always expect. By putting the Polovetsian action in Igor’s head rather than reality, he takes the imperialism right out of there. At first I found this disconcerting, because we’re somewhere in the twentieth century and I couldn’t quite figure out which part and dealing with Russia that makes a big difference. But I was asking the wrong question. In the West, Russian opera is assumed to be inevitably extreeeeemly nationally marked. I mean, we think it’s this, basically:

That’s the Polonaise from Stefan Herheim’s production of Onegin and it’s, er, not meant entirely in earnest. But I think there’s something in it anyway. The popular Western belief that Russian opera’s only thematic interest is large-scale Russian history and identity is understandable, because a lot of the works we see here are historical pageants and/or feature tons of identifiably Russian folk material, and there are plenty of historical reasons for that. We just don’t see a lot of productions of Serov’s Judith or Dargomyzhsky’s The Stone Guest in these parts. (I guess The Queen of Spades is something of an exception.)

But Prince Igor isn’t one of those non-nationalist operas! It’s totally, absolutely, completely about Russian history, particularly Russian imperialism. It’s the sabre-rattlingest of all, even! Medieval hero Igor goes forth attempts to go forth and conquer the sexy, emasculating East, just like Russia was doing throughout the nineteenth century. You can’t get much more obvious than that. That’s why I think Tcherniakov’s move away from this is interesting. We see additions of nationalist narratives to stagings all the time—Herheim is an equal opportunity interpolator in this department, he does it to the West as much as the East—but taking them out strikes me as pretty unusual.*

I think it took a Russian to do this, and given the political distastefulness of the opera’s imperial baggage today—this stuff is going on now, still—as well as the over the top nature of the Orientalism given to the Polovetsians, it’s a brilliant move. (You can read Richard Taruskin on this problem, too. I’d be interested to know what he thinks of this staging.) In a broader sense, it gives a symbolic space to a repertory whose drama is usually interpreted in solely external terms, and that’s novel in its own right. Instead of being about imperialism, this production is essentially about male egos. Igor is going off to fight something within himself, and the parallel with Galitsky is clear.

Anyway, back to the larger picture. While I found plenty to chew over in this staging, I have to admit that it was a little less viscerally thrilling than I had hoped for. I had once again been looking for the wrong thing, because Tcherniakov isn’t that kind of director. He’s not flamboyant, and some of this looks like it could be the best work of one Otto Schenkniakov (and a few moments like the not-best work—there’s some stock gesture that looks pretty unfinished). I sometimes wished Tcherniakov had taken a firmer hand with the storytelling. Most of the static moments are inherent in the fragmentary nature of the opera. The scenes don’t quite link up, there’s not too much in the way of ensembles. And that’s still there.

That being said, most of the performances were really good: detailed and integrated in the production’s concept, though the voices weren’t all ideal. Ildar Abdrazakhov is a bit light-voiced for Igor, but his zonked-out monologue in Act 3 has real stature. My favorite of the cast might have been Oksana Dyka, who acted the role of Igor’s wife Yaroslavna with regal presence, sorrow, and, in the end desperation. Her voice is cool, steely, and doesn’t have much variety of tonal color (she struggled a bit in the floaty bits at the beginning of Act 3), but she is very very loud. As Galitsky, Mikhail Petrenko played the villain with enthusiasm, though he also was sometimes underpowered. As Konchakovna, Anita Rachvelishvili sounded dark and leaned into all that snake-charmer type stuff, though playing the figment of someone else’s imagination was not, in this case, the most interesting assignment for her. As Vladimir, Sergey Semishkur sounded excellent and forceful at the top of his voice but gargled lower down. As Khan Konchak, Stefan Kocan was scratchy.

The Met chorus got a lot of the hardest work and sounded terrific. I must admit, however, that I was a little disappointed in Pavel Smelkov’s conducting, and wished I had seen Gianandrea Noseda, who did the premiere. The orchestra was limp at times, and I missed a variety of colors. (I missed Noseda, and missed my original acoustically preferable seat, due to an unfortunate snafu with the New Jersey Transit the other week in which I missed my original date for this performance. For the record, I don’t recommend a few hours spent on a train platform in Metuchen as an acceptable alternative to Prince Igor.)

Do go see this one if you can. It’s on through March 8, with an HD broadcast on March 1.

*I have seen a production of Boris that was set in a modern generic Eastern Bloc state, which worked well—and was a particulalry apt choice for the place where I saw it, former Eastern Bloc city Dresden.

More photos (all copyright Cory Weaver/Met)



 

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Review

Lovers schooled

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On Thursday night, the Washington, D.C.-based group Opera Lafayette graced the Rose Theater with a double bill of French opera… sort of. The first half consisted of Così fan tutte in French, the second François-André Philidor’s opéra-comîque Les femmes vengées, which slightly predates Mozart. It was ambitious and creative production that put a new spin on some very familiar material.

Nick Olcott’s production’s conceit is that Così makes more sense if you consider it as part of an eighteenth-century French tradition. The text is a vintage translation in verse, the recitatives are, like an opéra-comîque, made into spoken dialogue. The entire thing takes place in an artist’s studio, which brings up
some vague things about appearances and reality and also includes a
silent artist figure who became important in the second piece.The set is a basic set of walls and in period dress. There are a few novelties (the Albanians are now Canadians–not sure if that was the translation or a new idea but this is one production that takes the mustaches really seriously) and has the tone of a comedy of manners along the lines of The Rivals or The School for Scandal (to give some familiar English-language examples).

It proposes that the drama gradually moves from something very superficial and mannered (the staging uses many quasi-eighteenth-century poses) into more serious and sincere territory. Correspondingly, the finale contains a twist and the lovers end in their new pairing (Fleurdelise/Fernand and Dorabelle/Guillaume). The cast is engaged and enthusiastic, the Rose Theater is intimate enough to see all the detail, and this concept works pretty well. In fact, I think it probably would have worked equally well with the usual Italian text–perhaps that is missing the point, but the reason it works is that it finds an interesting angle on the text of Così, not because it says something about French theater.

It’s also nice to hear Mozart performed with a period orchestra, which
doesn’t happen very often in the US. The orchestra’s playing, under
music director Ryan Brown, was on the rough and ready side, particularly
in the winds, but it had a freshness and vigor that excuses some
messiness. The cast was mostly Canadian and French. Pascale Beaudin was a
wide-eyed, naïve Fleurdelise (Fiordiligi), and her voice is quite small
for this role, restricting the possibilities of her “Come scoglio.”
But, like Susanna Philips at the Met last fall, her “Per pietà” was
simply gorgeous and emotionally honest singing, much of it spent sadly
embracing the back of an empty chair. It was the highlight of the entire
evening. (I’m going to name the arias in Italian, because I didn’t
write down the French and it’s easier for you too.) 

Staskiewicz and Dobson

Blandine Staskiewicz was a perpetually guilty-looking Dorabelle with fruity tone and excellent comic timing. As Fernand, Antonio Figeuroa’s compact, somewhat nasal tenor made “Un aura amorosa” relaxed and almost disarmingly easy, but he didn’t seem to embrace the period style as fully as the rest of the cast and came across as quite modern. Alex Dobson was a natural comedian as Guillaume, if not always an elegant singer. As Delphine (Despina), Claire Debono had a chance to be witty and unaffected before everyone else, and her bright, focused soprano was one of the only I could hear working in a large opera house. Bernard Deletré’s Don Alfonso got some of his theatrical thunder stolen by Jeffrey Thompson mute artist.

The production’s second half was Les femmes vengées, a 1775 comic opera by François-André Philidor (today better known for his chess moves). It has a somewhat similar plot but predates Così by 15 years. An artist and his wife help two local ladies avenge their straying husbands (both of whom want to sleep with the artist’s wife). The staging made this story happen to the same characters from Così, only several decades later, sort of like the women’s revenge for the trick played on them years ago. (Regency fashions indicated that the French Revolution had transpired in the meantime, but no political references were made.) The artist was the silent figure from Così, now married to Delphine, and the two troubled couples are, of course, the lovers, who are now married.

The opera’s libretto, by Michel-Jean Sedaine, is surprisingly subtle in its development of the characters–well, subtle according to the standards of sex comedy, at least–but the problem is that the music isn’t. Philidor’s arias are charming and bright and pretty, but there’s little happening between words and music, and the kind of dramatization that makes the Da Ponte operas so incomparable is basically absent. (You can look at a first edition of the score online here if you’d like to see what eighteenth-century French engraved sheet music looks like or check out the score.) The same cast sang well and acted with rather more slapstick than in the Mozart. Debono’s role as the artist’s wife was more or less the central one, and her rhythmic acuity made the music come to life. As the artist, Jeffrey Thompson sang with a very slender but flexible tenor.

Beaudin and Figueroa

So it is supposed to be a lustiges Nachspiel, but it doesn’t quite work. The contrast isn’t between comic and serious (like in, say, Ariadne auf Naxos) but rather two separate styles of composition. It’s also all rather long: two operas in one evening, neither of which are short, is just more than one really needs. One is loathe, however, to cut any more of Così–the recits cut off some time, and we already lost Dorabella’s Act 2 aria and all of the optional Ferrando ones. (I unfortunately missed the end of Les femmes vengées, and I apologize for this, but the press person gave me a running time that proved to be incorrect by well over an hour. I stayed an hour longer than I expected until imperatives of public transportation compelled me to sneak out. Had I known the proper time I would have been prepared.)

Opera Lafayette doesn’t have the resources to operate on the level of a European group like Les Arts Florissants or the Theater an der Wien, but it’s nice to see an American ensemble trying something ambitious and creative in the pre-1800 realm.

Program Notes Plaudits (the opposite of a Program Notes Smackdown): Nizam Peter Kettaneh’s notes are excellent.


“The French Così.” Mozart, Così fan tutte and Philidor, Les femmes vengées. Opera Lafayette at the Rose Theater, 1/23/2014. Conducted by Ryan Brown

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