Category Archives: mezzos & contraltos
Giulietta Simionato is one of my (few) favourite Romeos but I just found today – whilst researching the state of Tito nowadays – that she’s ended her illustrious career (willingly) singing… Servilia in La Scala’s small hall. File it under odd choices to go out on. It’s interesting, but more like how Annio would sing it (obviously):
ps: don’t get excited, it’s not her singing Non piu di fiori later – though it would’ve been cool for her to sing Vitellia, however she apparently made her decision late in the game (every other role was taken). So, yes, La Scala allowed Tito about 90 years ago – in the small hall, mind.
Check it out tomorrow, 30 September, on Wiggy’s livestream. It’s at 3pm London time, so it might be a bit weird, but I believe it will also be rather interesting, especially for mezzo fans 🙂 I’ll be around, from the comfort of my lounge, and will give a bit of a running commentary in this very post, if everything goes the way it should 😉
So, here I am. Janet Baker and Simon Callow talk about her seeing Lotte Lehman at Wiggy in the late ’50s, who came in her hat and gloves, which stopped Baker in her tracks. Apparently Lehman was very intimidating, including to the young Baker, who found her teaching style lacking in spontaneity, having to do everything exactly the same way Lehman wanted. Baker felt greatly inhibited by this. She wondered about the generation gap being similar today.
Callow: who did she admire at that time in her time? Sena Jurinak.
Acting: connecting with the thoughts of the character = both agree. As the narrator in the church nativity play, she felt very serious about it and also “in charge” of the play, and being confident she was “right” in what she was doing, unlike the others in the play 😉
Words and music: as important as each other.
Friends play teddybear picnic on the piano = reprehensible 😉
(Certain) rubbish church songs vs Bach = no contest 😉
G&S = also terrible, haha. Reacted strongly to “quality as she saw it” since a young age. She’s since changed her mind about G&S. All great but she’s never wished to sing it herself 😉
Voice: teachers apparently could tell she had a good voice by age 11, as per a school friend, she’s quite surprised how anyone could tell so early on.
Callow: says she realised early on that she had a responsibility towards her talent (to nurture it); a sense of destiny = she agrees. Baker: surely you felt the same way? Callow: nope. he loved theatre but her no experience with training. Wrote to Laurence Olivier about the wonderful theatre he was running and LO wrote back, inviting him to work at the box office 😉 not too bad! Would this ever happen today? Very unlikely. CV >>> enthusiasm for any medium.
She thinks she was very “gullible” when she was told not to sing for two years. Callow thinks she was way disciplined for a young person. This was when her voice was changing from high soprano to mezzo.
Both acknowledge luck, as they met people without “shopping around” for teachers etc. and the choices one makes (having a children and family etc.).
Talks about her Austrian teacher (see also: the conversation with JDD). She really enjoyed lieder, which was what her teacher specialised it. She says she enjoyed singing in German, German language in general and the love of words developed further. She was also singing in the Glyndebourne Chorus at the same time = she says it was luck that all came at the same time.
Callow: how was she so naturally in character? Baker: mind/heart/body coming together = acting. Callow: not all actors have that either – after 3 years in drama school, he was able to say convincingly “My lord, the carriage awaits!” 😉 Baker: John Copley and Peter Hall taught her to act as far as “the mechanics” go. Callow: says she can transform with a minimal amount of makeup (specifically in Les Troyens). No generalised rush of emotion. Baker: Peter Hall said she was dangerous because she took risks (don’t we love that 😀 ). She says she doesn’t teach beginners because she wants to dig deeper when acting, because at that point you need to expose yourself, which she acknowledges is a lot to ask, but it’s necessary (as a good actor) and it never bothered her. She thinks it’s because of how she cares so much about the power of words so she just goes with whatever is required by said words. Callow: he was surprised how the very big emotions fit the limits of her voice. Baker: trusted her solid technique, practiced every day, before whatever she sang, though it was tiresome, so she didn’t have to worry about it later. Lucky she had teachers who suited her. Because of this she was able to focus on her acting on stage. She worked for 30+ years busy all the time.
On retirement: relief! Not having to wake up and sing. She says younger singers coming up and having their turn = natural. Likens her singing to raising children – at one point you have to let it go.
Baker: as actors, do you learn discipline to see you through? Callow: yes, physical and vocal (dancing, singing = to warm up). The attitude towards voice in theatre changed in recent years. Voice = no longer considered for its expressive qualities. Actors are increasingly wearing microphones. Body becomes slacker and less expressive – physical excitement lessens. Diction, rhythm = not so important today. With actors it’s not just the voice = talent, it’s a bundle of things (personality, physical package). Doing 8 shows a week = needs good character (mental stamina) to do it 8 shows a week for 3, 6, 12 months at a time or 40 takes on a movie set. The challenge = to keep the reality of it. Acting = “images of destiny”. Baker’s Full Circle book = Callow praises it.
Opera productions: respect the composer and libretist. Costumes also important = supports your imagination of who the character is. Critices “busy-ness” on stage (I agree!). Callow: opera is ahead of theatre in experiementalism. Seems ambivalent about many different angles but no Wagner with urinals. Midsummer Night’s Dream in a box = ok, thinks it worked.
Farewell: Orfeo handing the lyre back. Chorus gave it back to her 😉
In which we (ie, I) return to Tito after a very long break and find new (to “us”) voices, pleasantly re-acquaint ourselves with older finds and get a few surprises, some good, some not so good.
Tito: Rolando Villazon
Vitellia: Marina Rebeka
Sesto: Joyce DiDonato
Annio: Tara Erraught
Servilia: Regina Mühlemann
Publio: Adam Plachetka
Conductor: Yannick Nézet-Séguin | Chamber Orchestra of Europe and RIAS Kammerchor
Overture: notable for its pregnant pauses, though less pregnant than Currentzis’. Those ones are preganant with sixtuplets.
Ma che…: pianoforte a bit loose in the joints; nice tone from Rebeka, actually. Never heard her before, but she can do recit quite excitingly. JDD is a less nervous Sesto than when I last heard her; more authoritative than you usually hear him, with a touch of introversion. Good balance between the voices though I wouldn’t say any sexual obsession is conveyed. Surprisingly, Sesto falls like a souffle in the end. It’s the longer version of the recit.
Come ti piace: Sesto rocks the rubato. Sounds a lot like N-S lets JDD lead. Rebeka comes in guns blazing and she can hold that with the best of them but it’s nothing new as far as Vitellia is concerned. The ending is beautifully executed but again, nothing overly exciting.
Annio shows up: he’s no-nonsense, Tito is waiting! Vitellia mocks him. He doesn’t care. O virtu…! comes off… I’m not sure how, sort of like Sesto is reading about Tito. Annio and Vitellia sound more alive than him.
Deh, se piacer mi vuoi: maybe not the sexiest inflections on the market but Rebeka has a very good looking tone and an impressive range.
pre-Prendi recit: The continuo is a bit gentile for my taste. Annio and Sesto are cute together.
Deh, prendi: go Annio! one feels the Romeo and the Octavian in Erraught’s enthusiasm.
March/Serbate, dei custodi: a bit funny jumping from Nerone’s court to Tito’s court with 150 musical years in between. Choir sounds rather telephoned.
This version has the long text of the Bring gifts to Tito! bit. Villazon starts well but he does soon sound like he’s ready to take flight rather than saying words. Or maybe I’m still mentally with Poppea and 150 years later recits are naturally a lot more stylised.
March reprise: it’s there and I always like to hear it but that’s it.
Annio : Sesto : Tito: Annio is eager, Sesto very timid. Tito still taking flight, especially on oggi mia sposa sara la tua germana!, which sounds as if he’s reciting and ode. Annio is the most natural and effective here. Wait, seriously: Erraught sang Sesto in Munich, why is she Annio here? Reason why things shouldn’t be planned too far in advance.
Del piu sublime soglio: Villazon starts it alone, which is not necessary a good idea, as he inflates sublime in a strange manner. His tone is actually not bad but he doesn’t sound dramatically involved enough – or in a manner that works for me. Maybe someone needs to pair him up with Garanca, then we’ll have two people singing it whilst thinking about how to make every note beautifully follow the other.
Non ci pentiam: Annio is trying to make the most of his predicament. He’s upset but heroic. I like Erraught’s way of going about the recit. Why is she not singing more Mozart? Servilia is also ready to fix things; these two always (ok, most times) bring a smile on.
Deh, perdona: in this case it’s very easy to tell them apart in the duet. Another aria that sounds nice enough but nothing earth shattering from Maestro.
Tito : Publio: Villazon reminds me of someone else but I can’t tell who. His Servilia, Augusta! is pretty nice – more surprised than besotted. Nice delivery from Servilia. She has such a Mozart voice! Sounds like she’s just stepped off Entfuhrung. There is a lot of stuff Tito has to say. It’s definitely the long version of the recits.
Ah, se fosse intorno al trono: it’s a lot better than I expected. Perhaps because it’s naturally more “shouty”, but Villazon has the right reading. Well, I’ll be. If someone told me the most I’d enjoy Villazon would be as Tito I’d have thrown down. Or something. The truth is I wouldn’t mind listening to his ‘Fosse again.
Vitellia : Servilia: Servilia isn’t scared but makes the exchange short, nonetheless.
pre-Parto recit: Rebeka sounds fresh, with just the right amount of sarcasm, JDD not so much (there comes a time to leave Sesto behind). Rebeka needs somebody as fresh as she is for a foil to her voice acting. I quite enjoy listening to her, a very nice find as Vitellia.
Parto: hm, there is a weird energy in how JDD phrases her initial double parto, reminiscent of how Villazon did his Ah, se fosse. Interesting in a way – a sort of going forward and breaking at the same time, but also not quite fetching. What I notice is JDD’s foray lower then she is known for (though not on that potentially super sexy belta; ok, everyone should have their trademark way of doing Parto). Her coloratura is as strong as ever yet she sounds heavier or darker otherwise. My conclusion is this is far from her most exciting take on Parto.
Vedrai, Tito, vedrai…!: very seductive mix of threat and self satisfaction from Vitellia, I like it. Publio and Annio are rather chummy.
Vengo! Apetatte… Sesto!: of course attending live shows is exiting (sometimes deliriously so), but there is a downside: you’re really spoiled for spontaneity. I find it very hard to get in the right mood for studio recordings, where everything sounds so obviously polished. It’s a very good version of Vengo! but I’m really dying for something to go slightly awry or at least not to feel like there’s a team of engineers trying to fix whatever vocal/techinical limitations might come up and in the process, smother the life out of it all. [earth to dehggi: this is apparently live. Dehggi: is it?! No, really: is it?!]
Again and again the feeling returns that this is all (the recording in general) very competent but no much beyond that (except Rebeka’s tone and enthusiasm for the recits – she’s been robbed of a better (really live) environment for a recording of this role).
Act I finale
Hey, JDD woke up! As we know, this is the moment when Sesto can be rescued from mediocrity if things (in this case, the drama) hadn’t gone anywhere fast up to this point. I can’t shake the feeling that, in spite of JDD’s experience and long list of qualities, she’s just not Sesto at this point in her career. She can phrase and she can dose her energy for this mad scene but the emotion feels generalised instead of raw. More attention seems put into rolling the Rs than into Sesto feeling overwhelmed by what he’d got into. JDD also doesn’t sound young and scared anymore – or even just scared. Her Sesto seems rather annoyed with himself – I can’t believe I’ve fallen for Vitellia’s trick – again!
By contrast, Annio, Servilia and Publio sound engaged. When everybody gathers together, Maestro speeds proceedings up a little too much, so that the choir’s interventions of ah! sound almost glib. Rebeka comes to the rescue again. Her Tito…? is tentative, as if Vitellia is scared even to call his name as she can tell the news can’t be good. Then taci, forsenatto! has he back in control again. The choir is a bit too resigned-mournful, so the sudden brass “screams” seem overdone and it all fizzles out before you realise.
Act I conclusion: JDD a disappointment, Rebeka a very welcome find, Erraught should’ve been Sesto1, Mühlemann endearingly eager, Maestro not sold on this opera, Plachetka solid and Villazon better than I ever imagined, though far from a Tito for the ages. With so many Tito recordings on the market in recent years I’m not sure why this one ever happened, except the young gen of conductors eager to leave their mark – or at least tick the box – on Mozart. I hate to say it, but I’ll take Currentzis’ exaggerations over Nézet-Séguin’s lack of ideas any day. But maybe I’ll be more engrossed in Act II…
ps: that’s gotta be one of the poorest CD covers I’ve seen in ages. Tito’s back of the head? Seriously? And why is the standard so badly placed within the composition?
Annio : Sesto: helpful Annio 🙂 Sesto is finally alarmed. Annio doesn’t want to hear whinging, he says: wipe your boogers and focus on the fact that Tito survived!… Wait, you’ve actually done it? DUDE, WTF?… Anyway, nobody can prove anything so STOP whinging!! Sesto dithers some more but Annio shakes him. I’m gonna be the helpful friend whether you like it or not, brov.
Torna di Tito a lato: beautifully, sensitively done – with heroics thrown in.
Partir deggio…?: Sesto continues to poop his finery, Vitellia is dramatically appealing to his fidelity, he raises to the bait, she gets sarcastic. Not bad.
Publio : Sesto: Publio is no-nonsense but not cruel, almost friendly. Sesto has gathered his courage back; seems like he only falls apart with Vitellia. But he’s also quite annoyed with her. I find the harsh dramatic contrasts JDD employs a bit blunt for Mozart.
Se al volto: Sesto’s start is rather good, nice employment of soft trills. Rebeka uses similar strong contrasts as above in her delivery and although I really like the ease with which she transitions from one to another (and her incursions at the top of her voice, which is beautiful and flexible), I still don’t like such rather overblown dramatics. I think I should blame Maestro? Plachetka’s Publio is again solid.
Si grazie si rendano: the choir isn’t bad here. I wish Villazon toned it down a bit, it’s a no-shouting moment. His Tito sounds like he wasn’t even in Rome when the fire happened. Introspection = a very Tito quality.
Publio : Tito: Publio is very hush-hush. I guess this one likes Sesto. Tito doesn’t sound particularly upset by the news but uses the end of the phrase for another shouty-McShout. And yet, he can do pp – if only he thought about it more often and how this should be the basis of characterisation.
Tardi s’avvede: Plachetka’s a very honourable Publio; this is a very civilised court. Along with the hush-hush recit he uses the softest tardis in the repeats. It’s very cool in itself and very dance-y. Diplomatic Publii are a thing.
Tito : Annio : Publio: Tito is confused, Annio barges in (also in a civilised way), Publio gets gutsy, Tito is finally crushed. His Annio, lasciami in pace! is the most heartbroken I’ve heard yet. Villazon gets points for originality. I can work with this stuff.
Tu fosti tradito: Annio for emperor! So heroic 😀 and yet there are softer moments and Erraught can spin a trill. A bit acidic at the very top but it’s that aria. Easily one of the most involved and effective Annios out there.
Tito = OMG!: finally a moment for Villazon to go all Puccini and not sound funny. It’s ok for Tito to sound on the brink of a meltdown. His delivery is pretty convincing.
Quello di Tito e il volto: this is definitely a Tito + Sesto = friendship (but possibly Publio hearts Sesto) kind of Tito. They are very balanced and dramatically more suited together than with their respective women friends. Maestro uses that rubato at the end almost as if he remembered it at the last moment.
Tito : Sesto: Sesto sounds ready to lose his shit again. Tito sounds very hurt and doesn’t try to hide it. Sesto decides to try for heroism but it doesn’t quite work (not that I think JDD wanted it to). It’s one of those it’s not you, it’s me kind of cringe-y moments. It’s also very long. There is a lot of emotional fretting being thrown about, though… at least they are both on the same page of dramatics. It’s probably more akin to how they did it at the London premiere in 1805.
Deh, per questo instante solo: this is not how I remember JDD’s voice. I don’t know how this voice is. It’s like everything else is there but it’s missing its Mozart shine. Too much belcanto? Too much soprano? It sort of doesn’t sound like a trouser mezzo voice anymore – the genderambiguous charm, the emotional youthfulness2. It’s darker, but soprano-dark. Has the centre of balance changed? Unsurprisingly, the most memorable moment is the trill up at the top of the voice (on questo cor).
Tito ponders: I like the darkly phrased vendetta… otherwise it’s a pretty straight-forward Tito. I like him but what can I do??? thinks Tito. His heartbreak is very much of the heart only. Publio tries to figure out what happened.
Se all’impero: I don’t know if sounding insecure is by design but it actually fits Tito’s reluctant decision.
Publio : Vitellia: it’s a very diplomatic conversation, neither wants to give their hand away.
Vitellia : Annio : Servilia: everybody is alarmed. Annio, as usual, wants things done already. Vitellia is still able to keep up appearances. Servilia isn’t easily fooled.
S’altro che lagrime: not sure if the continuo was needed to segues into S’altro. Mühlemann continues to sound like a very young Mozart heroine, with a beautiful top for the gioveras.
Ecco il punto, Vitellia… : Rebeka begins cold but slowly, slowly, the more she says Sesto’s name, things are starting to fall apart. Somehow she manages to sound distressed without the usual ugliness. It’s still not entirely thawed, in contrast with Sesto and Tito’s emotional wrecks.
Non piu di fiori: I guess the descent into temporary madness could be more gradually described but her use of range is the best this side of Erraught. The low G is on pieta and it’s not overly ugly but rather solid. Like with the rest of this recording, all that’s missing is some interesting ideas.
Act II finale
The orchestral sound is a bit thin but the choir is up for grandeur. Tito is more or less calm again. This is the Tito who puts benevolent into benevolent ruler. Vitellia gets low range gutsy – yes, please. La tua bonta is said in such a… casual tone, I guess, it’s surprising but not very dramatic. I mean, has she already got over the fact that Tito is BENEVOLENT? It was a big enough deal in the morning that she wanted to get him killed. Tito is, of course, not that observant, and instead he goes on declaiming about his generosity. Puppy-Sesto says he’s way touched. Tito strokes his head and gives him a kind biscuit. All is good again in the world. The women’s voices do blend very nicely. Eterni dei sounds suitably grand. Villazon suddenly gets a Kermit voice for il ben di Roma and is a bit lost in the general praising of himself. I like more presence from the male side in the big chorus moments (speaking of which, what happened to Publio?! Should we be worried?).
The conclusions from the end of Act I still stand. I was susprised not to hate Villazon, though I think it’s a very superficial reading of Tito with some nice occasional touches. I would recommend this for Rebeka, though, judging by how she started, I was expecting more from her Non piu di fiori. I’m not entirely sure how much is her fault and how much is Maestro’s, who has not impressed me at all. For Erraught I urge everyone to revisit her Munich Sesto.
- if young conductors want to record these things, they should employ the young gen of singers as well (here I have to give props to Currentzis again; don’t worry, we’ll be back to normal soon 😉 ). You know I like JDD (though she was never a fave Sesto) but really; people like Erraught and Crebassa and Lindsey deserve their mainstream shot at Sesto. ↩
- I had to go back to VK’s Deh, per questo with Welser-Most to try to figure out what the problem is. I think 42 year old VK’s voice has a similar density there but her colours simply sparkle in comparison. Though perhaps I’m wrong and VK solved a lot of density problems by darkening through her career so she could manueuvre colours a lot better. JDD didn’t darken and waited for real density but by then the colours (which were never on level with VK’s) had washed out? Anyway, sounds like JDD is a lot more conventional in her rendition here. The amount of rubato in VK’s version is quite striking in comparison and the use of trills is very (very) different. JDD seems to want her cadenzas at top speed and her trills tossed off with abandon, whereas VK is not afraid to put lots of breaks into the proceedings and add often shorter trills for dramatic effect rather than in that belcanto way JDD likes them. ↩
The trailer is all Parto so you almost want to ask: what’s Villi doing there? I do like JDD’s a la Titus hairdo. Nice attention to detail.
Mozart Cycle – I ❤ that. Obviously Mozart worked it all out so it culminates with Tito 😉
I don’t need to reiterate how the summer festival season has blinded me to the latest Tito developments but a new CD has dropped this past July (instead of waiting for September like I would’ve).
Known quantities JDD and Marina Rebeka sing our seditious lovers. (Has JDD never recorded Sesto before? I suppose VK saturated that market for about a decade before JDD started singing soprano roles (out of frustration?)).
Then we know who Sesto’s should’ve been, no offence to JDD because we all know what JDD can do. We also know what KL + SY can do (KLSY or, with a little help, SYLK?). So the reason this didn’t happen: DVD =/= CD.
Do we think SY can sing Vitellia? I don’t trust my SY objectivity just now. Please alert me when that DVD comes out, I will write on it ASAP. They can bring their Poppea getups along.
ps: as per the comments on the above tumblr post, she was apparently slotted to sing Vitellia on this recording. Saving it for the DVD, I tells ya.
The smaller roles are impeccably cast, with Regina Mühlemann dewdrop-sweet as Servilia, Tara Erraught making much of Annio, and Adam Plachetka as the commander Publio, who sounds rather more secure than his emperor. (from the Guardian’s […]Tito – Nézet-Séguin and Villazón return)
Of course I feared this moment ever since I saw him as Don Ottavio. Sigh. One day I will have to actually listen – this month, even! Stay tuned.
Tara Erraught making much of Annio
Like, ha. This generation of singers are doing things all backwards. Then again, there is audio evidence of Fassbaender’s Annio.
The main idiosyncrasy is Villazón – and in this opera, where the tenor has the title role, that’s not easy to gloss over. Some listeners will find his warm, passionate portrayal of the merciful emperor an antidote to the generic, antiseptic style in which Mozart can be played today; others will balk at his expressive tuning, and wonder why he sounds as if he is limbering up for Nessun Dorma. (from same as above)
I can hear it already!
Wait, who these days plays Mozart in an antiseptic way?! I thought the trend was to spritz him up with edgy stuff.
This month, he and Nézet-Séguin will return to Baden-Baden for Die Zauberflöte; Villazón will go full Domingo and sing the baritone role of Papageno. (from same as above)
Haha! This is gold. Hands down my favourite Erica Jeal review, we’re usually at odds.
After a 3 week honeymoon with like-minded thoughts and the work itself, the time has come to read other opinions on Poppea (yes, I know, the world has moved on by I have not. It’s Tito month and I’m still stuck in Rome one generation before that story).
For kicks I also listened to Karajan’s trainwreck in the meanwhile and came out with further thoughts: the chap singing Seneca survived best, mostly because his voice was the most suited to the role and because he either made the most effort to sound Monteverdian or he actually had an idea about what that enticed. A contralto Arnalta is usually not a good idea; neither is a tenor Valletto (same thing with the Enescu Festival Poppea; it’s a Cherubino character, leave it to women; never heard a CT in it but worse comes to worst I’d rather hear one than a tenor).
But back to 2018:
Jan Lauwers’s first opera production may be accounted a significant success: alive to theatre, its possibilities and impossibilities, its illusions and delusions. (from A Highly Successful Production of L’incoronazione di Poppea in Salzburg)
If a spinning marathon = alive to theatre then yes.
I heard a good few objections – nothing wrong with that in itself, of course – which, sadly and revealingly, seemed to boil down to that perennial bugbear of ‘too much going on’. By definition, ‘too much’ of something will be a bad thing – although sometimes, perhaps, bad things are required. (from same as above)
When it comes to entertainment too much of boring and illogical isn’t something I want. Bad things can be interesting, not the case here.
Few of the characters in L’incoronazione di Poppea, even Seneca, a somewhat compromised and therefore all the more credible exception, evince scruples in that or any other respect. Sometimes we, sometimes they too, need to ask why, or at least seem to need to do so. It does not, then, seem entirely unreasonable, nor out of keeping with the spirit of this extraordinary work, to attempt something similar. (from same as above)
I’m in agreement with this (though it’s wooly written, so I cleared it up for the reader). Yet I’m not interested in any production telling me why. That’s for each of us to draw from our own experiences with “horrible people”. I’m interested in a production not making things busy for the hell of it. The author seems to imply that simply busy = making us think. On the contrary.
It is, at any rate, likely to prove more enlightening than simply complaining that ‘too much is going on’. ‘Have you ever seen a Frank Castorf production?’ I was tempted to ask. (from same as above)
What’s that got to do with anything? I have seen this production and it messed with my head for no discernable reason. (Visual) art should speak for itself, not need booklets explaining it1. (Incidentally that Castorf production looks a lot more coherent but I didn’t see it so I won’t be commenting)
The next paragraph is bad writing on the subject of whether or not there is any parallel between Busenello’s libretto and Shakespeare’s Macbeth, psychology (or lack thereof) and whether whatever Accademia deli Incogniti stood for had any bearing on the apparently amoral tone of the libretto. None of it has anything to do with this production so I’ll skip it.
Like staging itself, sometimes they [the dancers] mirror the action, but more often they offer related, alternative paths: a ‘why’, a ‘what if…’, (from same as above)
They do, I guess, but always as a not particularly original or coherent afterthought. First draft?
Throughout history, what has been more pornographic, in any number of senses, than the desire not only to watch but also to write such ‘stories’? Is that not part of what Poppea is? All the while, even whilst we are caught up in its detail, in enjoyment thereof, we, like the selected dancer-in-rotation as focal wheel of fate (Fortuna), know how things will turn out – even if we have forgotten. (from same as above)
Yes to the first part – and I certainly would’ve traded the incessant spinning for more of the reality TV backstage stuff being projected – but can we for once live in the now instead of always thinking about how things turn out? Isn’t that why we indulge in entertainment?
- I’m aware that’s usually what is going on in contemporary art museumes these days but I don’t consider it a good thing. ↩
This is a pretty good account of what went down in Zurich (re: Poppea). (From my seat in my Mum’s kitchen) I’m not very convinced by those projections either but I do like the rounded stage idea, with the displaced balcony box spectators at the back.
Like I said in the Carmen post, I’m not sure I care so much about being physically super immersed in the action as long as the acting is convincing and the production clear and coherent. I can draw my own Poppea/Carmen/Tito etc. parallels, thank you. But I doubt I could’ve forked out the money for those seats, anyway (though maybe you got discounts for having the public watch you as part of the action… but it looks like they’re not always there? whatever it was).
In any case, David Hansen vs. Kate Linsdey ultimately seals it for me.
ps: pregnant Poppea = yes.
I know this is oooold news, but it’s just now that I’ve made time to think about Tcherniakov’s Aix Carmen (2017) and it’s holiday downtime.
Baranello’s (of Likely Impossibities) review is very evocative for those who have not seen this production for themselves. I feel both intrigued and a bit disoriented. It sounds like a cool idea for a production but somehow also rather fanciful. Usually I bitch about productions being underdeveloped but in this case it might be too well thought out, to the point where it leaves opera as musical entertainment in the dust and turns into a film that uses a very popular opera libretto as pop psychology prop (narrowly before MeToo).
It’s an unusual feeling, maybe somewhat similar to the recent Martina Franca extended-play Rinaldo (just found out Armida = Cher1). I want the action on stage to keep my attention focused by being novel and interesting but I also want to retain the feeling that I’m at the opera rather than in a play in play in play.
If it were a film I think I’d really enjoy it2 – I’m already in the frame of mind where the opera is called Don Jose, Incel extraordinaire.
The clinic’s staff is too excited to notice that the treatment didn’t work: The man they think they have cured is still locked in his own head, seemingly unable even to hear their praise, still believing he killed Carmen. (from the above mentioned review)
Don’t directors always like the trope of the self satisfied psychiatric staff? Heh.
(What a serious distractions visuals can be…)
Christie is going real old school – not (never, with this rep) a criticism, just an observation. For the past week I’ve been listening to Jacobs (Paris, 2004) and Egarr (Enescu Festival, 2015). Whilst each of the three does interesting things – and we can thank Monteverdi for leaving so much up to interpretation! – Christie is, strangely, in this context, the most dramatic. I’m talking especially about Addio, Roma – really good tension on the monochord theorbo (I think) that sets Ottavia’s heartbroken goodbye – and Nerone’s meltdown – mayhem! 😀
And, strangely again, whilst the background is so old school, we have non-Baroque specialists, who – especially Yoncheva – bring a very different feel to it. I think we’re past puritanical obsessions and can appreciate a bit of a mix. It’s heartwarming to see non-specialists insist on having roles like these in their repertoire. It surely brings them to the attention of the general public.
Strictly technically speaking, Alder is at this point my favourite Poppea, and I would love to see her in a staged production (sooner rather than later), paired up with a mezzo who won’t be drowned – or with a conductor who can direct her well.
However, Yoncheva has a very nice range for this role, with some warm and almost dark plunges into the lows, whilst Alder stays within a brighter timbre. When she’s not rushed, Yoncheva can produce pleasant trills. And it’s really lovely hearing her sing along Lindsey.
The more I listen, the more I’m impressed with Lindsey’s performance as Nerone. That meltdown is something else! But even better (and stylish) are her trills, which I had not rated particularly high in the past (re: Sesto in Paris against Gauvin’s Vitellia). We’ve also got range, from a handsomely vigorous dark mezzo to those goofy “wicked Nerone” higher pitched incursions. I think it’s also a rep in which she doesn’t have to force at all (tempo included), so more colours and possibilities open. I would be very happy if she explores more of the same.
Comparing the three, I would say Jacobs makes it the most hip-sounding (bot not necessary HIP), Egarr’s is cembalo-driven and Christie brings out some startling details. It’s how I remember his Cesare – he plays with this music; it’s not about playing it correctly – because it’s not hard to do so – but it’s about having fun with it. The above mentioned theorbo and the cornetti (where others didn’t seem to have used them), as well as the ensemble at the end of Act III really stand out.
It’s interesting that he mentions Harnoncourt starting off HIP then moving on, because I would say this is more or less what he’s doing here, collarborating with non-specialist singers. You get to a level like Salzburg, so what are you going to do? Salzburg wants “cool” but also it wants its big stars who will draw the posh crowds. But that’s not a bad thing, like I said. The more posh audiences get used to small kvlt bands playing 17th century operas and big stars joining enhusiastically, the better. We shouldn’t keep Monteverdi to ourselves, the whole world deserves to know and learn to appreaciate these wonderful operas.
Poppea is such a great achievement because it’s basically a lossely sung play. In that way it’s very modern, but those loosely sung parts are more alluring than similar later efforts. I always marvel how he causes language to purr without modifying its cadence at all. It makes me think we should all sing to each other instead of simpy talking and find our own languages’ inner music.
Also mad props to Busenello for such a tight libretto (another reason why you should employ an actual poet instead of writing it yourself). Every character has a distinctive voice and then there are the simply rendered but keenly observed interactions between people. This is the kind of music where a slightly modified inflection makes all the difference. After listening to Monteverdi I invariably say to myself “Were I a singer, I would want to sing this all the time.” And if I were musically inclined, I have no doubt this it the kind of thing that would’ve made me decide on pursuing even an “amateur career” in singing.
Now that I re-listened, I’m still firm in my opinion that Vistoli has a way to go before he gets on a level with Iestyn Davies as far as Ottone is concerned. Having spent a few days revisiting Davies’ Ottone, I can say without issues that he is my favourite countertenor Ottone. I used to like his Glyndebourne E pur io torno qui a lot, but he actually improved for the Enescu Festival. That aria and his performance in general in that concert is very possibly my favourite from a countertenor ever, I am surprised to say. It’s just flawless, stylish and perfectly pitched emotionally. I’ve seen him many times but that is it for me.
I should put it on YT, I don’t think it’s up for our enjoyment – it is! It occurs to me that I have actually seen him sing Ottone back in 2014, but I guess I didn’t know any better… I wish I could see him now.
However, after this perhaps unflattering detour and unusual Davies worship, Vistoli’s tone is easily recognisable and very likable. He’s quite mezzo-ish, bypassing the all too common bleat of many countertenors. I can see why Christie picked him and it could be interesting to see how he develops.
When speaking about “the darkness of Baroque”, Lauwers seemed quite interested in the character of Seneca as the moral compass of the opera. He said he would like an older singer, with possibly a ruined voice for this role (Visse was waving from the side, trying to get his attention 😉 ) but I suppose Christie called up a very young bass-baritone who (intelligence says) appeared worried how he’d come off. Well, given the low set technical bar, he needn’t have worried. Kidding, he was fine. Who cares about Seneca, anyway, beside as a butt of jokes? But I guess Lauwers doesn’t quite get what a “gone” voice sounds like; it’s often the darkness that’s gone, and without darkness you’re not going to have Seneca centre the opera. It’s all good, because this production is hardly centred.
L’incoronazione di Poppea or sex vs the oversized crown of rarefied intellectualism (Salzburger Festspiele, 12 August 2018)
Your reactions to my first impressions were so conducive to discussing the ideas behind this production right there in the comments section that I first decided not to do it again here. But then I thought I can just be very foldy-Baroque and quote myself in green (didn’t them Baroquers invent meta?) for coherence.
If you want to see the larger context of that discussion you can always click on the above link. And if you’ve already read them, you can just skip to the pictures 😉 To those who happen not to know: the stuff in green are my replies to questions, so (even) more colloquial than usual.
Poppea: Sonya Yoncheva
Nerone: Kate Lindsey
Ottavia: Stephanie d’Oustrac
Ottone: Carlo Vistoli
Seneca: Renato “I’m not a bass!” Dolcini
Virtu/Drusilla: Ana Quintans
Nutrice/Famigliare I: Marcel Beekman
Arnalta: Dominique Visse
Amore/Valletto: Lea Desandre
Fortuna/Damigella: Tamara Banjesevic
Pallade/Venere: Claire Debono
Lucano/Soldato I/Tribuno/Famigliare II: Alessandro Fisher
Liberto/Soldato II/Tribuno: David Webb
Littore/Console I/Famigliare III: Padraic Rowan
Mercurio/Console II: Virgile Ancely
Haus fur Mozart, Les Arts Florissants with William Christie
Director: Jan Lauwers
Let’s start by saying the Concept is overly Intellectualised, in a manner similar to the treatment of last year’s Currentzito but luckily the music wasn’t fudged with (thank you, Christie). Trust the mature chap in red socks over the trendy dude from permafrost. Or trust Valletto:
Se tu non dai soccorso
Alla nostra Regina in fede mia
Che vuo accendert’il foco
E nella barba, e nella libraria.
In fede, in fede mia.
(Before we move on, did y’all notice that Valletto’s scene with Damigella is basically Non so piu + Voi che sapete? Plus ca change…).
I think the discourse today is anti-storytelling ([the director] also mentions broken narratives, nonlinearity, different (ie, women’s) perspectives etc.) – which I guess is what they did with Tito as well – but human brains still function this way, so… overreaching.
Even so, it wasn’t without merits if you didn’t blink much:
it’s definitely interesting but I would’ve done so many things differently! From the booklet I learned that the director likes improv and I don’t think you can do good improv with people who don’t know each other very well. The singers feel left to their own devices, which might – just might – work with very seasoned performers and musicians who have worked together for a long time, otherwise it’s all a bit amdram to me.
Maybe I’m wrong. He’s very into “let’s build the moment” rather than come up with a plan, which, in theory is great, but I learned it the hard way that many moments are very dull for those who are not within that moment with you (it’s like being the only sober person in a roomful of drunks). Maybe fun for those on stage but what about us? If you’re not communicating with us in a language we are privy to, then what is the point? This is not meditation, it should be a shared experience. I don’t mean everything should be scripted but you do need to have a direction towards which people can guide their improv. You can’t just say “act crazy” or “act silly” – more like, come on, which kind of crazy, which kind of silly? Giving some guidelines does not mean people’s imagination is stifled, on the contrary, it has a basis on which to flourish.
But let’s move on to specifics:
Prologue: regarding divinities: [the director’s] point was that they are obsolete – which would make the prologue redundant – so to illustrate that he doubled all three of them with a cripple. What I thought was that they each had “adopted” a cripple and were behaving with him according to their (divinities’) nature but it turned out the cripples were themselves!
I mean if Amore was crippled Ottone could’ve succeeded in killing Poppea 😉
Aside from all the usual characters in the opera there are a lot of people (dancers) on stage at all times.
Most of the dancing is someone (they swap places when one of them gets tired) continuously spinning in the background. Now that stops being interesting about 5min in. After much watching it dawned on me that the spinning = how divinities (remember the prologue) are playing with humans as with puppets. Hardly original. Kosky might’ve used a spinning class instead 😉
What you will absolutely not get without reading the booklet is how [the director] means all the people we see in the background to be “the forgotten of history”. Like I said, nice nod to the little people but 1) nothing to do with Poppea, 2) you wouldn’t be like “aha, that’s it!” just from watching.
I guess he wants us to remember that the world doesn’t revolve around those remembered by history, though since the opera is about Poppea/Nerone and not about the little people the point is moot 😉 Also the libretto actually deals with this issue, with all the already existent “little people” characters, which there are a lot more than in an “I really care about the people” opera like Aida, where we have what, 2 outsiders? Plus the little people here aren’t always victims.
So now that we have dancers
get in the way make us pay attention to the plight of the unseen, what?
the dancing never stops! So when you have so much focus on that, you better come up with something very elaborate and interesting, no? I’ve seen by now quite a bit of dancing incorporated in opera – just to give you a very recent example, Saul – that had a lot more cleverly done movement that commented on what the libretto was saying. In fact, I was just thinking as it was happening “hey, Salzburg, is this all you’ve got? Come to London/UK, you’ll learn a thing or two”. Rodelinda from ENO, Kosky’s The Nose, Sellars’ The Gospel according to Mary – all very interesting movement compare to this that I can think off the top of my head.
My buildup to the performance was why isn’t this the Zurich
Ottone Poppea which ran in June/July? Boohoo. Except you forget all about it around the time you reach Salzburg town. Because the grass is really greener in Salzburg. Whereas it’s always nice – and these days, very rare – to have a contralto Ottone in a production that surprisingly seems to understand Ottone has some sexy scenes to exploit, it’s even better to have a woman Nerone – and by that I don’t just mean a mezzo Nerone. One of the things this production hits a homerun in is to have a gender ambiguous Nerone. For WS that means more woman for your buck, for trendy types it means whatever you want it to mean. A golden Klimt suit/poses, high heels, braids, or maybe bread foam, circus and free makeout sessions for all.
As far as women’s perspectives, this opera is about Poppea to begin with and if we establish Nerone is also a woman, then I guess you would want to see how a woman deals with unlimited power? But it looks more or less like a male Nerone does, so I wasn’t the wiser in the end – missed opportunity if I’ve ever seen one. Unless he wants to say women behave in traditionally male ways when they achieve power, but the booklet didn’t say anything about that.
(More) Salzburger Festspiele fawning
When, merely two months ago, I was made an offer I couldn’t refuse I didn’t quite realise that not only dude, you’re going to Salzburger Festspiele! but dude, it’s Poppea‘s premiere night and your seat is in the parterre stalls. Luckily this summer’s few stints at Glyndebourne came in handy by dunking me in poshness long enough to survive this much swankiness in one go. Dude, I’ve never actually walked on a red carpet (that wasn’t faux persian) before! Excuse the country bumpkin sense of wonder, but it’s still surreal. An actual red carpet! So the key terms of summer 2018 are “hot”1 and “posh”. As Arnalta would say, much better than “cold” and “poor”.
As far as opera festivals go, Salzburg, too, lives up to its reputation. It’s the Rolex/
Mercedes Audi! Audi!2 of opera festivals. Wood panels and really comfy seats/legroom aplenty3. Not just comfy seats but seats for all. Now we can sit for a moment and ponder if seats for all at higher prices is better than standing for some for a bargain. It’s interesting to have the opportunity to compare Glyndebourne poshness to Salzburg poshness, whilst sharing the hall with familiar faces (hello, Christie and Lindsey, haven’t I seen you just a month ago?). I wager Haus fur Mozart (the smallest auditorium of the three) sits about the same number of people as Glyndebourne and the acoustics seem similar as well. The audience, though, reacts quite differently.
People kept dropping things, like at least 5-6 times. I wonder if they fell asleep 😉 (and why would you hold things in you lap when there is SO much legroom and room under your seat? you could stash a Golden Retriever in there). The chap next to me actually glared when I chuckled at Valletto’s antics towards Seneca but then sort of lay back on the backrest as if taking a break from all the talking. But when Arnalta had her bitchy arioso later on others finally laughed as well! Small steps.
The Festspiele caters to you so much that you can use your ticket on public transport before and after the opera. Except, come on, you’re in Salzburg, the rivers are crystal clear and the hills alive with… they actually are, because the opera houses are built into the cliff. I for one wanted to breathe the air and walk all the streets and mountain trails and have my own makeout session – with the venues 😉
After a midday stroll around town/hike, I went to the venue really early and waited on my now beloved steps for busy woman Giulia who was packing two operas in one day. I hope she writes about Salome, because we had some fun discussing the dead horse head, which she (Salome, not Giulia) gets instead of Jokanaan’s sexy mug. Maybe religion is a dead horse to be beat? Or something? Anyway, I didn’t see that production (I’m fine with one Salome a year) but it sounded like another exercise in trying really hard to be different. It’s kind of interesting that sexy cannot simply be sexy anymore (imo, Salome has enough kink not to warrant trying to twist it further, but who knows, I may be really square and not know it).
Poppea wins but about the unlucky ones?
Now let’s have a word about Vistoli’s Ottone and d’Oustrac’s Ottavia. These two didn’t seem to interest the director, so they both looked like they wandered in from another (unsexy) opera about middle management – especially Vistoli, whose E pur io torno qui was completely ruined by the video projections to the point that his performance seemed lacklustre to me, in comparison to his stint as Ruggiero in Orlando, where his voice stood out beautifully. Younger singers really benefit if a director helps them out. He also appeared to understand this and looked like he was toughing it out in spite of the projections.
I really thought […] incorporating video projections will work but it never went anywhere (as usual with projections – again I remember how Richard Jones worked it in cleverly in Rodelinda) and I thought it was too bad!
You know there was that thing a few years ago when VR was all the rage and this video company did this “choose your own adventure” opera project and had this very thing, with multiple cameras on stage – I thought it was gonna be that! And we could see what everyone was doing at all times during the opera. That would have been great – again, IF what they did was at all interesting. But you need a bit of pre-planning for that, which there was none. And then they just stopped! I was like, wait, where are the cameras? Try some more, you made a big deal out of it and now the idea seems totally abandoned. MAYBE it was part of the “let’s stay in the moment and if it ain’t working we’ll cut it”, but that seems very whimsical for not very much and also very lazy! If you have a good idea and you presented it to the world, you kind of have a responsibility to do something with it, otherwise it’ll make you look like a fool.
It looked like Lindsey and Yoncheva were the only ones briefed about this video thing and they tried to play into it best they could, whereas Desandre, Quintans, Beekman and Visse just went with their regular opera instincts and won their battles by being good actors in the old, established way. The rest appeared not to know if they were coming or going in the midst of all this madness.
What I am curious NOW is if/how they change anything as the run moves on, because the boos were hearty 😉 I would’ve wanted to come see more shows just for that alone (but if things didn’t change much I’d’ve been annoyed).
(Returning to crimes against Ottone) they did not dress [him] as a woman, he kept wearing his normal clothes. Here is exactly where a contralto Ottone makes sense, when Ottavia observes that s/he could fool anyone wearing women’s clothes. But nothing was done with this. Poor Vistoli just had to stand there, looking rather forlorn.
As for d’Oustrac, she was a classic Ottavia as far as I could tell and so her appearances (accompanied by a lowering chandelier) had the effect of stopping the sexy action. I’m not her biggest fan as it is because of lack of colour but I couldn’t say there was anything wrong with her interpretation and her stage presence was solid, very illustrative of Nerone’s bitching that Ottavia is infrigidita ed infeconda. Then again, laments. It’s really not easy to rock Ottavia and, again, perhaps I prefer more heft. And/or Hallenberg (though Larmore sure had her charm/chutzpah and felt like a real person).
The other ones escaped unscathed old school-style, with very good singing and distinctive stage presence from Desandre’s Valletto (he and Damigella made a really fun couple) and Quintans’ Drusilla, especially. Beekman sang beautifully like he did at TADW and Visse is still a stage animal.
Out of the costumes on display, this side of the principals, Seneca’s pompous coat (actually pointy-square) was a lot of fun, though I was starting to pity the singer for having to wear that on such a hot day. Drusilla’s dress built on layered-transparency was also up my alley.
There was this blob on stage, originally stashed to the side and eventually brought to the fore and assembled for Drusilla and Ottone, all sparkly silver, like a Christmas-y foam Mr Hankey, which I really didn’t get. Man, it was fugly as all getout! I don’t think I’ve seen such an hideously cheap-looking prop in my life, Poundland would be ashamed to have it on its shelves. In comparison, the gameshow desks from Guth’s TADW Poppea were ITV at its most ghetto fabulous. I suppose all the money went to the video projections which were abandoned 20min in?
I’m not opposed to a mostly empty stage, in fact I prefer it to clutter, but if you’re going to have a prop, make it look like… something (it occurs to me that maybe it was a very crude representation of “happy ending clouds”?). Usually with Poppea we have a setee or a bed for obvious reasons, but a floor can function well for all the down and dirty getting. A blob… well. At least it wasn’t a dead horse head and our anti-heroines kissed at the end (and quite a bit in between), no particular dark clouds looming in the future (though a couple of times I think Poppea looked a bit uncertain, which I liked. A hint is ok, overdoing the foreshadowing is too much. We all know, I promise you, what is going to happen; in fact, having it pointed out that Poppea is soon going to be kicked to death by the hubster is for me on par with hearing once again how Baroque really means “broken pearl”. I want to beat it with that dead horse head).
When it’s good, it’s sexy good
But let’s talk a bit about the things that worked. After Poppea and Nerone’s sexy scene where Nerone says she needs to leave in order to divorce Ottavia, we have Poppea happily sing to herself about her good luck. Whilst she’s all wahey! Nerone is finally trapped in my honeypot! we see Nerone run around in the background, making out with everyone and their nutrices – actually, it’s “the little people”, who all look grim and scared of her, except for a couple of “fans” who can’t believe their goodluck at having been snogged by sex-guru Nerone. That’s the kind of foreshadowing I can get behind.
You could say well, dehggi, aren’t you the very same person who bitches to no end about the horribility of Don Giovanni? Why are you ready to cut Nerone so much slack? I guess because it’s so obvious s/he’s a loose cannon? I’m not saying I’m right or not hypocritical; I just like Nerone a lot better4. I know Don Giovanni is also satire but it feels to me a lot more laced-up (different times). This one is relaxed and tongue in cheek and unsentimental from end to end. We don’t pity anyone, there are no heroes, just a bunch of flawed people who behave very badly indeed in moments of crisis. Plus Don Giovanni just isn’t sexy (aside from Zerlina’s antics, which would fit right in here).
Speaking of sexy, I was talking about what the production did well. Most of the Poppea/Nerone interaction is hothothot, as I’m sure you all know by now from the gifs already in circulation. Yay to that, because Poppea without sex is just an extended moaning session set to music. It’s good to see the singing and the action on stage raise the temperature in the room instead of tripping each other. Though Nerone seems at her most together in Poppea’s company, her other behaviour makes it a bit difficult to see why Poppea specifically.
At one point it seemed like both of them were partaking of those scared semi-naked people5 but usually Nerone is indulging when Poppea is busy making plans for the future. But maybe he likes her because Poppea is the only one not afraid? Usually it’s Nerone who does things to others but Poppea is very ready to take the lead, which seems to get Nerone’s undivided attention.
This is a good place as any to comment on how, though others have ariosos – sometimes more than one – Nerone only ever appears in scene-duets with others. How interesting. We don’t really know what she really thinks (Lauwers may rejoice that Nerone’s perspective is skipped in favour of those less favoured by fate 😉 ).
I also liked – visually – the scene where Poppea falls asleep. Here she’s standing, sort of in the arms of the… little people again? It looks good, naked and semi-naked people holding each other, in the way a more racy fashion photoshoot does, but I wonder if it’s meant to say anything? Like she’s the embodiment of the hopes and ambitions of all those people who try to get rich but die trying instead (if you pardon my 50 cent pun)? If this is foreshadowing again then cool. If it’s not, still cool.
Though I’ve seen the production with Yoncheva and Cencic, I thought by now she had moved on to later rep. I suppose she likes this role (she looks like she’s enjoying herself) and the voice is still surprisingly able to cover it without sounding 2 levels bigger than everyone else’s around her. This was an excellent achievement. Not to diminish her obvious musicality and professionalism, but I think Christie’s experience shows here as elsewhere. The whole really fit together seamlessly – and we really should see her and Lindsey paired more often (before it’s too late and she does embrace Verdi6 and whatnot for good) because it’s not just eyecandy, their voices do work wonderfully together.
There was one good bit about [dancing], when it finally looked functional – when Seneca has to kill himself and all “his people” are dropping dead around him – that was well done.
I realise I spent so much time talking about the production and did not mention the “ugly singing” even in my first impressions. Said unpretty singing (worst offender: Lindsey) really ticked Giulia off, but I could live with it mostly without issues. Every once in a while (when he’s particularly mean) Nerone pulls off a squeak, on the goofy side of unpretty (Nerone going a bit Lazuli – not as strange as it may seem, Lindsey made out with all the women on stage there as well!). But this isn’t just some random thing Nerone did to aleviate the boredom of roaming the back of the stage, kicking hard working people. Nope, this is something our director specifically wanted, in order to better express the “dark nature” of Baroque. Because, you see, it’s not just an imperfect pearl with many folds, but those folds are very dark indeed.
Gorgeous singing – this is the best I’ve heard from Lindsey, and I’ve seen her a lot, even two months ago; she should sing more of this stuff; Yoncheva rocked, too, and the two of the have excellent chem, both vocally and dramatically – some fabulous diminuendi in their scenes together (you know which, the supremely sexy ones = Scene III Act I, Scene X Act I, Scene V Act II and, of course, Scene VIII Act II).
- Guess what, gentle reader? It was hot in Salzburg, too! Haha. ↩
- Must get the sponsors right 😉 they “paid” me with sandwiches and coffee, after all. ↩
- And exceptionally clean toilets. ↩
- Me, like Roman characters? You don’t say. ↩
- Reminds me of Darla and Drusilla of Buffy-fame’s spree – speaking of which, I can totally see a vampire themed Poppea! Has this been done? ↩
- Giulia saw her as Elisabeth de Valois in Don Carlo and thought she wasn’t yet ready for that. ↩
Tune into radio: 18 August at 19:30 CET via the Ö1 channel of ORF radio
Watch livestream: 20 August 2018 at 18:30 CET on medici.tv