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“Die Zeit, sie ist ein sonderbar Ding”, says the Feldmarschallin in Der Rosenkavalier, and, although the title role in Ariadne auf Naxos repeatedly speaks of her mental confusion, it would be only normal if she had no idea about what time it is in Hugo von Hofmannsthal’s play. The libretto places the action in the days of Molière, the intermezzo performed in the play a mythological setting. As it is, the lucky audience who attended the Viennese première in 1916 saw a prologue set three centuries earlier and the “opera” in the aesthetics of the XVIIth Century (as mythological plays used to be staged back then). R. Strauss’s Ariadne auf Naxos has been increasingly staged with the prologue set in our days, what sheds a different light over the proceedings. In Hofmannsthal’s original concept, the characters in the prologue would not see the genre opera as something decadent. On the contrary, in the days of Molière it was quite avant-garde, especially in Paris, where it was in the core of the debate about a national style of musical theatre.

In Marcelo Lombadero’s new production for the Teatro Colón, however, opera is shown at its most caricaturally decadent – wigs, panniers, stock gestures. The fact that the director has decided that Zerbinetta and her troupe rescue the opera seria from its outdatedness is, therefore, intriguing.  Commedia dell’arte is only a bit more recent than opera – and I wonder if Hofmannsthal considered that his libretto had to do with an obsolete art form being rescued by contemporary sensibilities. Actually, a contemporary Zerbinetta would find the whole affair around “The Unfaithful Zerbinetta and her four suitors” the stuff of museums. That is precisely why I find Mr. Lombadero’s régie anachronistic: here the Composer is a woman and I anticipated that her duet with Zerbinetta would be something of a revelation to her. Remember: after that, the Composer says he(she) sees things entirely differently, that the depths of existence cannot be measured and that there is much in the world that cannot be said in words. Well, here the composer just gives Zerbinetta a sisterly hug and a “thanks for sharing” facial expression. I guess that everybody found that this is more conservative than the genre opera itself.

Curiously, Mr. Lombadero’s staging of the opera inside the opera was very satisfying in its creativity, provided if you shared the view of “the richest man in Vienna”, i.e., that the tragic and the comic should be staged simultaneously at any cost. Here the director never let Ariadne’s rediscovery of love involve the audience – this has been drowned in comedy and overbusiness. In the end, one could see that the director really agrees with the Dance Master and tried to save Strauss’s exquisite concoction from boredom through a generous dose of slapstick.

Conductor Alejo Pérez too did not indulge the score’s late Romanticism, but his objective eye had the perks of structural clarity, a minor advantage in the context of poor orchestral playing. Strings sounded wiry and intonation was far from faultless, to start with. The very irregular cast was redeemed by the serio characters. Carla Filipcic Holm, whom I had seen as the Feldmarschallin in São Paulo, offered a compelling performance of the title role. Hers is a very peculiar voice – if you put Gundula Janowitz and Alessandra Marc in a blender, maybe you’d get something close to the Argentinian soprano’s voice. A lyric soprano, Ms. Holm has enough volume and heft for the more dramatic passages and floats pianissimo at will. Her diction could be clearer, but her sense of style and sensitivity are undeniable assets. She was a bit tested by the low tessitura, but had no problem with long phrases and proved to be one of the most satisfying Ariadnes I have seen live in the theatre. This is something I cannot unfortunately say of this evening’s Zerbinetta. Ekaterina Lekhina’s grainy and unfocused soprano was barely hearable in the prologue. In her big aria, she showed some improvement and handled trills adeptly, but she fought with her in alts and is definitely not legato’s best friend. For someone who had been billed as a mezzo, Jennifer Holloway sounded quite juiceless in her low notes. Her voice lacked radiance throughout and she did not project as she should when things got high and loud. In her favor, the fact that she handled the more exposed passages forcefully and could scale down for the more lyric passages too. The three ladies left nothing to be desired in terms of acting.

At first, Gustavo López Manzitti’s Bacchus sounded labored and overdark, but he rose impressively to the challenges in his difficult part, supplying big round high notes. Hernán Iturralde sang richly and securely as the Music Master and Pablo Urban was an incisive and funny dance Master.


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The Theatro São Pedro is São Paulo’s other opera house. It is a small auditorium, the size of an European baroque theatre. The acoustics are very good too. Although the budget is limited, their productions (I have seen two so far) are similar to what one would see in a provincial German opera house, and the orchestra is quite good for South American standards.

It is hardly the theatre’s fault that casting an opera in Brazil is something of an adventure. The level of voice teaching is below standard, the market for professional opera singers is restricted and most young tenors and sopranos are here trained to be Radames and Aida even if they have voices for Handel or Bach. That is the reason I decided not to write a review the last time I attended a performance there. Although everything else was acceptable (or more than that), the singing was simply depressing.

I have always enjoyed seeing Luisa Francesconi, especially in Mozart, and I was curious to hear her as Sesto in La Clemenza di Tito. So I have decided to try my luck. Although her high notes have lost a bit of the impetuosity missing in the stretta of Parto, ma tu bem mio, she did not disappoint me in a stylish and expressive performance. She was not immune to the prevailing lassitude this afternoon and shone rather in moments like Deh per questo istante solo.

Her Vitellia, Gabriella Pace, has the kind of voice one calls a Mozart soprano. It is bell-toned and able to phrase with instrumental poise, provided things are not fast or high or loud or a combination of those. In moments like that, the voice develops an acidulous edge that can verge on stridency. As a result, a great deal of what Mozart wrote sounded like “acting with the voice” today. In her defense, she can claim to deal with the low notes better than most sopranos of her type. And she has temper to spare, especially in a staging that requires constant evil laughter.

Actually, it was quite confusing to hear a Servilia (Marly Montoni) whose voice sounded more Vitellia-ish in sound.  I understand Ms. Montoni – in spite of an attractive rich and dark vocal quality – would be uncomfortable singing a part like that with a backwards placement that stands between her and ideal projection and clear phrasing. She was well-partnered by Luciana Bueno, a velvety-toned Annio who gained in strength during the performance.

Caio Duran’s Tito displayed very good divisions and ideal clarity of diction. His voice lacks high overtones and his approach to high notes can be touch-and-go. What bothered me, though, was the Brazilian flavor of his Italian – and a tendency to stress the wrong syllables and ignore double consonants. Saulo Javan’s resonant, round-toned Publio could have stolen the show if Mozart had given him a little bit more to work with.

Conductor Felix Krieger was capable of eliciting a Mozartian sound from his orchestra and generally kept good balance between sections and also with his singers, but his hesitant conducting compromised any possibility of drama. His reluctance to attack was such that you could go to the restroom, buy a soda and drink it between the end of an accompagnato and the beginning of the aria.

Caetano Vilela’s staging centered around Vitellia and if you overlook the evil laughing, he and Ms. Pace were able to build convincing dramatic development  for that character. Everything else was more or less in shadows. The scaffolding used as scenic element does not make much sense or add to the atmosphere, but did not spoil the fun either. On the other hand, Fause Hauten’s anachronistic and incoherent costumes were really confusing. For a Roman setting, the fact that everybody had a beard (the girls en travesti especially) did not help much. Sesto and Annio looked like twins and their oriental-flavored costumes (among choristers in togas) were especially nonsensical.

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The fact that the Matthäus-Passion is Bach’s largest and greatest choral work has encouraged many a conductor to produce performances in large scale, especially in the context of symphonic halls. When we come to the subject of the original forces under the composer’s supervision, it is difficult to be precise of what is large and what is small in terms of number of people involved. The experience of hearing it in the Thomaskirche in Leipzig convinced me that a choir as big as the one used today would be impractical in the church’s resonant acoustics.

But this afternoon’s concert took place in the Sala São Paulo and the orchestra at hand was the OSESP. Under these circumstances,  conductor Nathalie Stutzmann must be praised by the reasonable decisions made for these events. First, she has not tried to emulate period-instrument sonorities and yet was able to keep it lean and clean. Second, that did not prevent her from adopting a dance-oriented approach, with sharply defined rhythms, firmly bass-rooted. Things did not run always smoothly: O Mensch bewein dein Sünden groß  was a bit all over the place and the orchestra sounded challenged with the (at the fast beat chosen by the conductor ) sprightly figures in the strings in Mache dich.

Although sopranos and altos lacked tone,  the OSESP chorus acquitted itself quite well, crystal-clear articulation was a bit beyond the possibilities allowed by the context of these concerts. What is remarkable is Ms. Stutzmann’s ability to inspire the chorus to give the chorale numbers a wide expressive palette.

Finding the right Bachian singers for a large hall is always tricky, and this evening was not an unmitigated success in this particular. The usually reliable Martina Jankova, for instance, sounded here brittle and not truly capable of floating her high-lying lines in Aus Liebe. Aude Extremo’s mezzo is more substantial, her low notes rich and well-connected, but the faulty intonation compromised her delivery of Erbarme dich. Robin Tritschler’s Evangelist benefited from exceptional ease through the passaggio and a crispy delivery of the text. Mirko Ludwig would have been ideal in the tenor arias if his voice did not acquire such pronounced nasality from a high f on. Stephen Powell’s Jesus was a bit on the operatic side and Leon Kosavic’s forceful baritone lacked a bit of Innigkeit to produce the right effect.

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Krzysztof Warlikowski’s new production of Shostakovich’s Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk for he Opéra de Paris has all his hallmark features – the labo chic sets, curtains, video projections, a cowboy costume, glittery party dresses. It has more to do with Warlikowski than with Nikolai Leskov. First, it looks too glamorous for the circumstances. Second, the approach is too detached for a story about human passions at their rawest. Third, act 3 – visually attractive as it is – makes no sense in terms of the plot. The whole affair with the discovery of the corpse and the appearance of the police simply did not match what was shown on stage. In Mr. Warlikowski’s favor, one must recognize that his Personenregie was effective and his intent of portraying the main character’s sexual obsession was right on the mark.

The combination of this staging and Ingo Metzmacher’s extremely cerebral approach to the score (unaided by an orchestra not exactly adept in tonal variety) made the characters’ predicaments even more distant to the audience. This does not mean that the conductor did not serve the music well. There were many moments of unusual transparence and finish – and it is hardly his fault that I’ll be forever spoilt by what Mariss Jansons did with the Vienna Philharmonic in Salzburg.

I am no sure if I find the idea of using Rudolf Barshai’s orchestral adaptation of the first movement of Shostakovich’s eighth string quartet as an interlude between the last two acts was effectively. The way the composer devised this transition seemed more coherent for me in its unbroken impact.

The extreme demands in terms of acting made on the soprano explains the casting of Aurine Stundyte as Katerina Izmailova. She gave herself entirely to the task and shone in all intensity whenever she was on stage. In terms of singing, I am less enthusiastic. Ms. Stundyte’s throaty, greyish voice does not suggest sensuousness and comes close to stridence in exposed high notes. Pavel Cernoch’s tenor has developed a lot since I last saw him. The tightness is gone and now he can all right produce heroic top notes. However, the tonal quality is not truly ingratiating and there is no smile in his voice. I have written that, once you’ve heard Nicolai Gedda in Rostropovich’s recording, it is difficult to hear the role otherwise. In the legendary Swedish tenor’s interpretation, you can always hear what is really going in Sergey’s mind while he speaks about how sensitive a man he is. In that sense, the comparison is too hard with every other tenor, Mr. Cernoch included. His effort to portray a role distant to his personality is praiseworthy , and he has done a very good job in terms of acting. Minor roles were all brilliantly taken – Dmitry Ulyanov again is a firm-toned and characterful Boris Timofeevich, John Daszak’s bright-toned Zinovy Borisovich had the right touch of nervousness and Alexander Tsymbalyuk was a rich-voiced police officer.

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Is Handel’s Semele an opera or an oratorio? The question is actually irrelevant. I’ve seen it staged – and provided the director finds a way to mix in the chorus in the dramatic action, it works famously – and now I see it in concert and, provided that everybody has sense of humor, it works as well as in the opera house. 

The English Concert, the historic instrument ensemble, launched a couple of years ago a project of performing Handel operas with international soloists such as Joyce DiDonato and Christiane Karg. Although the English language libretto makes it less accessible for continental singers, the cast features a list of names from both sides of the Atlantic.

Brenda Rae has sung the title role on stage and her experience is evident by the way she takes profit of every note and word of the score. It does not hurt either that she is a terrific actress. Ms. Rae is a specialist in high-lying coloratura roles – and one can hear that in her voice. Although Semele is a role for high sopranos, we’re talking about what baroque composers considered high tessitura. The key to success in a Handelian prima donna role is a clear and expressive middle register. Ms. Rae’s, however, is the kind of voice who really blossoms from the high f on. As a result, much of what she sang lacked some color and did not project as it should. I suppose she was not in her best voice either. In any case, that did not prevent her from dispatching impossibly difficult coloratura with aplomb and producing some beautiful examples of mezza voce.

As it was, Elizabeth DeShong (Ino/Juno) almost stole the show with her fruity mezzo perfectly connected to solid low notes and exemplary control of fioriture. She too made a great deal of the text and could make the audience laugh by just rolling her eyes. Christopher Lowry’s countertenor sounds distinctively English, even if he was born in the US. He handled his divisions accurately and sang sweetly Athamas’s Your tuneful voice.

Benjamin Hulett smudged one or two runs, but sang his Jupiter with affection and a dulcet tone. In the double part of Cadmus and Somnus,  Solomon Howard’s superdark bass is a bit on the grainy side, but he tackled the florid More sweet is that name with firmness and surprising flexibility for a voice of that size. In the tiny role of Iris, Ailish Tynan sang stylishly and showed ideal comedy timing. 

Good as the cast was, the glory of this evening performance was the superlative singing of the Clarion Choir. Their homogeneity, clarity and accuracy is something to marvel. Conductor Harry Bicket led the performance with a strong sense of forward movement that came close to the egg-timer treatment. This is understandable in a long work, but one could feel that his musicians would gain if the beat was just a little bit more relaxed some times. Balance had the orchestra in disadvantage against the chorus at least in the acoustics of the Barbican.

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For a while, the Welsh National Opera used to be mentioned in magazines not because of the many famous singers born in Wales, such as Gwyneth Jones, Margaret Price or Bryn Terfel, but rather for its association with Decca and Teldec record labels. Then Joan Sutherland, Montserrat Caballé, Luciano Pavarotti, Samuel Ramey would join the company to record Bellini’s Norma. Those days are long gone, but the WNO has not exactly kept within regional limits, as this tour in England proves.

The tour program involves Mozart’s Die Zauberflöte, Donizetti’s Roberto Devereux and Verdi’s Un Ballo in Maschera, the last title also part of a project of staging three operas by Verdi. In partnership with the opera house in Bonn, director David Pountney and stage designer Raimund Bauer have devised something that they call “the Verdi Machine”, three panels that can be moved and shaped to form all kinds of set.

In Mr. Pountney’s production, the panels are used to create a sense of play within the play, a kind of red-and-white bizarre masquerade, where everybody is playing a part in Riccardo’s Fellini-esque fantasy. The staging is overbusy, and its farcical approach makes the story far less dramatic than it should. Also, visually, the production looks seedy in a way that suggest the cabaret rather than the opera house. Maybe a richer budget would do the trick.

The run of performances was first led by the WNO’s conductor laureate Carlo Rizzi and taken over by Gareth Jones. The musical direction this evening was nothing but serviceable and it is hard to imagine that, a couple of decades ago, Reginald Goodall recorded Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde with these forces.

This evening’s Amelia was American soprano Mary Elizabeth Williams, whose full lyric voice is a model of homogeneity, all registers rich and distinctive, and her technique is solid. One feels that nerves of steel make her operate so surely and cleanly close to her limits in an emploi in the vicinity of dramatic soprano repertoire, and yet I would be curious to hear her comfortably within her natural range as a formidable Donna Elvira, Elettra or Vittelia. This evening, not surprisingly, the most lyric pages in her part, the aria Morrò, ma prima in grazia, let Ms. Williams show the whole extent of her talents. There she sang with such naturalness and sincerity that one would need a heart of stone not to be touched.

Gwyn Hughes Jones is one of those natural tenors who are not afraid of high notes. He relies a bit too much in nasal resonance and, whenever he wants to boost projection, his sound can become quite glaring. Nonetheless, he has the necessary congeniality for Riccardo and sings with true animation. Sara Fulgoni too is a natural contralto whose low notes sound integrated and well-connected to her middle register. Hers is not really a big voice as one is used to hear in this role, but she has good projection and found no trouble in the small auditorium. Julie Martin du Theil was a sweet-toned Oscar with good divisions and charm to spare.

Roland Wood (Renato) was victim to a lung infection and was unable to sing the first scene in the third act. Before and after that, his forceful baritone sounded healthy enough but for one or other instances of instability. His replacement (whose name I could not understand) sang with a richer and darker but marginally less focused sound. Both offered satisfying performances. 

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I have never met anyone who would say that La Forza del Destino is their favorite opera by Verdi. It does feature some of Verdi’s best arias and duets, but everything else is either dramatically ineffective, pointless, kitsch or a combination of these adjectives. I myself have seen it in the theatre only twice: once at the Met (Voigt, Komlosi, Licitra, Delavan, Pons, Ramey) and once in Tokyo (I left after the intermission, so technically I saw it 1 1/2 time).

The reason why I was at the Royal Opera House this evening is the same reason the performance was sold out: the starry group of singers. The role of Leonora, for instance, is particularly hard to cast. Its tessitura is exceptionally low for a soprano and yet it requires exceptional control of dynamics and legato in high lying passages. I have never heard a Leonora that I could call faultless – and Anna Netrebko comes really close. The naturalness with which she plungers in her low register is something to marvel, and one never has the impression of crudeness suggested by some singers who just knock the audience out with their chest notes. Accordingly, she has tackled exposed high notes with a softer, essentially lyric approach that made her sound consistently dignified yet vulnerable. Ms. Netrebko produced beautiful mezza voce throughout and delivered a La vergine degli angeli poised but not purely angelical, an element of disquiet still lurking in the background. It is difficult to listen to Pace, mio dio with any other singer once you have got used to Leontyne Price, but I have to say that this evening I did not feel shortchanged.

Jonas Kaufmann’s tenor has grown throatier and more effortful since I last saw him sing an Italian role. His acuti lacked brightness and he was often overshadowed by the baritone (what is unusual) and yet he sang with his customary care for the text and tonal variety. His phraseology does not always go along with legato, and at some point one would trade all the highlighting and nitpicking by just good old cantabile. That all said, differently from most tenors in this role, Mr. Kaufmann was able to project a sense of fragility and desolation that made his Alvaro simply interesting in terms of drama. In comparison, Ludovic Tézier sounded as a paragon of vocal health in the role of Carlo, his baritone dark, rich and vibrant. He is not the most electrifying singer in this repertoire, though. Don Carlo is a character difficult to pull out, there must be a psychotic drive behind everything he does – and Mr. Tézier rather skated on the surface of a generic intensity.

Ferruccio Furlanetto’s bass is big and dark enough for Padre Guardiano, but the tonal quality does not suggest the spiritual authority deeper and ampler voices can provide here. In any case, he was better cast than Alessandro Corbelli, who – in spite of his comic verve and congeniality – lacks volume for the part. Veronica Simeoni’s light, slightly hooty mezzo is not my idea of Preziosilla. Last but not least, it was endearing to see Roberta Alexander and Robert Lloyd in the first scene.

Although Antonio Pappano received a standing ovation, his conducting was kappellmeisterlich in the bad sense of the world. After a band-like overture, strings scarce in sound, he seemed to be accompanying his singers in a way that no one of his stars would complain of having their lives made difficult. As a result, one never felt his soloists enveloped in orchestral sound and pretty much alone to produce themselves all excitement and expression. This is not the kind of score that works its magic by itself – so we had to do with the magic-less version this evening.

Christof Loy’s was a one-trick production. Leonora has always been trapped in her childhood of abuse – and the audience soon realized that by watching the same set of her father’s house morphing into Padre Guardiano’s church, Preziosilla’s inn and the barracks. But that cannot be all that he had to say. The plot of La Forza del Destino has a lots of blanks to be filled, and not all of them by pocket psychology, I am afraid.

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