Category Archives: tenors
You ever imagine Tristan and Isolde with a happy ending? No? The French did (of course they did!) and so did the Italians, even more successfully. It was 1832 and women in opera had a few more years left to be intelligent, poke fun at hackneyed stories and crucially not die by the end.
I bought this ticket wrongly and long before I knew how contralto-mad times would get. So let me make a belcanto pitstop before I get back to my German adventures.
Adina: Pretty Yende
Nemorino: Liparit Avetisyan
Dulcamara: Alex Esposito
Belcore: Paolo Bordogna
Giannetta: Vlada Borovko
Conductor: Bertrand de Billy | Chorus and Orchestra of the ROH
Director: Laurent Pelly
(Co-production with Opéra National de Paris)
I missed this “much loved” production the last time it was aired but I caught it on the radio and kicked myself for missing it. This time I was determined to see it – but as cheap as possible. It was only after booking that I realised I got the second cast, at the time including Rolando Villazon. Though you might remember I got a bit googly eyed for Alexandra Kurzak during Il turco in Italia and was rather annoyed to miss her this year, I decided to see the glass half full and check rising star Pretty Yende out.
At the weekend I (half enthusiastically) mentioned to Agathe that I would be seeing Villazon on Tuesday. Well, what with not being a Villazon aficionado I don’t know when the change happened but today I noticed his name was not part of the cast.
I had no idea who Avetisyan was but he turned out to be a very welcome surprise. He’s a good singer, really looks the (dorky) part and has excellent comedic timing. In spite of the dorkiness, the man has serious stage presence. For my money he was the best actor tonight in a cast that was by no means shabby, continuously drawing laughs and not just because he had obviously learned his part (and stunts) very well. The man has a feel for the stage and is lucky to have caught our attention in such a carefully detailed production. His diction ain’t bad either. He does have to work on making his vocal performance more detailed, more personal, but I suppose that is the kind of thing that comes with experience. If he’s intelligent and has a good team to support him I think he will do very well in the future.
Yende has more of a Netrebko-type voice than what I’d expect in an ideal belcantist. Though she can pull off the trills and the top seems to come easy at her age, I imagine she will soon grow into heavier roles. It’s always interesting “getting to know” a voice for the first time live. I’d heard some stuff on zetube and couldn’t quite make up my mind. Live I liked her soft singing best, which is genuinely warm with just enough roundness. A congenial voice.
Her stage presence, in fact, is very girl-next-door (and she and Avetisyan made a very cute village couple). She sort of reminded me of Veronique Gens as Dona Elvira – a bit (or perhaps way) too nice for the role. At the beginning we need to be unsure of Adina’s feelings or to laugh with her at Nemorino. She’s the local landowner so she can’t be too chummy with Nemorino from the getgo. It might be part of the production but I felt Yende’s Adina was just another girl in the village, gently teasing Nemorino and getting girlishly sulky when he’s pretending not to care for her.
Though her soft singing has quite a bit of character (the emotion came through), she tended to be more abstract in the coloratura and when deploying the very top – neither of which were unpleasant on the ear, mind. Maybe next time she convinces me that coloratura isn’t just there to wow the audience with pure technical skill.
This is the kind of production where even the baddies are lovable. Bordogna was quite the bufoon as the self satisfied Sargent Belcore. It was the fourth time I’ve seen Esposito and by far the most pleasant. He must enjoy singing in an undershirt, as I think this is probably the third time I see him in one. It’s neither an opera nor a production interested in commenting on consumerism and public gullibility, so his Dulcamara is simply amusing, the way he keeps popping up and tying his magic potion to everything that works well.
Dulcamara: hello everybody, I’m Dr Dulcamara and I came up with that magic potion that works on everything from bedbugs to constipation, you may have heard of it1.
Villagers: ooooooooooh! Hello Dr Dulcamara, can we have some of that?
Dulcamara: of course! It’s cheap too. And it can make you great in bed and rich at the same time, like Nemorino here!
Villagers: OMG, how did we live without it all this time?!
Pelly productions always have extra little somethings, and here the curtain at intermission was a giant Dulcamara advert (in Italian, which made it even funnier), with pictures and text describing various ailments cured by the miraculous drug (you can see pictures here).
De Billy and Co. did a reasonably good job. Maybe it’s my seat (horseshoe left), maybe it’s my ears, but I felt like the sound from the orchestra was particularly uniform. The flute, oboe, bassoon and harp did their job when called for solos and/or lead, with the flute faring best, though nothing to write home about. I can’t say maestro made any efforts to pick out interesting sounds from his team. Likewise the chorus, who had quite a bit to do on stage – the villagers are very present in the opera. They sounded solid and on time but aside from one instance when the male side of the chorus sprung up quite nicely they seemed satisfied with merely keeping to the rhythm. The whole thing (orchestra included) could’ve benefited from more rubato. Belcanto comedy is built on simple, hummable tunes which can sound very mechanical without a bit of imagination.
The audience loved it, laughed a lot, clapped a lot and gave the team a very warm reception. It’s a likable production, I can’t complain. The atmosphere was congenial, with my seatmates on the left jolly and relaxed as well as knowledgeable, and my seatmate on the other side not particularly knowledgeable but certainly friendly and enjoying herself. It’s great to see Londoners letting their hair down at times like these.
- The good old days when quacks prescribed placebo! Imagine if all the pill-poppers around us merely drank weak wine. ↩
Since that soprano-tenor debacle happened just before I travelled to Vienna in April, I made it a point to snap a few pictures of fountains. Clearly there’s ample reason to step out of the hall for a glass of water.
Don’t give into confusion – that was last year. But since this year the same participants had another close encouter of the operatic kind (which means they didn’t meet at all, though they were supposed to) in the same opera, a unique chance to post my hitherto neglected draft appeared.
Bonus: here’s a fountain of Vienna from 2017, to belatedly celebrate this year’s no show/operatic tradition renewal:
Whoever advertised this performance struck gold: this was one of the best attended shows I’ve ever witnessed at Wigmore Hall. Though the Colossus of Rhodes or the Pharos was planted firmly in the seat in front of me I couldn’t find a convenient seat to upgrade to without bothering someone. But the Pharos1 was very polite and self aware and leaned to the left (Tower of Pisa, then) – we were on the end seats – so I could actually see 2/3 of the stage, which included the singers and the bassoonist (yes, there was a tenor-bassoon duet!).
Mary Bevan soprano
Benjamin Hulett tenor
James Platt bass
Christian Curnyn director | Early Opera Company (Choir included)
George Frideric Handel (1685-1759)
Concerto Grosso in G major
William Boyce (1711-1779)
Excerpts from Solomon
George Frideric Handel
Alceste is incidental music with a lot of contribution from the choir and in my case it proved incidental to a good nap. For whatever reason, perhaps because it started with the concerto and because I wasn’t familiar with the Boyce piece, I was lulled into this cocooned state of semi consciouness.
When Hulett and Bevan duetted I had that thought one sometimes entertains of what would an alien make of this if s/he/it dropped in. A bunch of people intently watching two other people on stage make tuneful oooo, aaaa sounds with others coaxing a slightly different kind of sound from wooden boxes of various shapes and sizes. But to what end? the alien might soon zero in to the crux of the matter. And a good explaination, judging by the rapt faces, may be to lull the people in attendence. Nefarious or farious, that would remain to be determined after further investigation. Might the alien subject itself to this experiment?
I don’t necessary recommend pursuing this train of thought too diligently, as I ended up dozing and incorporating the stage action in said flights into delta state. Case in point, when Hulett recited along the lines of …and he rose from below! with the choir rising from below/behind the harpsichord2 to deliver a hearty Handel part, I also rose, and an image similar to this flashed through my mind:
I was convinced the action was taking place at the bottom of the sea. Of course. It must be The Enchanted Island effect. You might think I’m being unnecessary silly but shouldn’t we be truthful about the effects of music on us?
The singers were fine. I remember Hulett as the Oronte from that very fine Alcina from Moscow. His tone is good for Handel but as you well know by now, I like more colour in the voice. Bevan sounded to me particularly mezzo-ish here, perhaps due to the rather low lying parts of what she had to sing and also the way she attacked the acuti. Platt has been someone I look forward to hearing since his very entertaining stint as Caronte in the 2015 ROH Orfeo. Here he sang with gusto and that burnished bass tone as well, both as part of the choir (his biggest part) and as a soloist. The orchestra – Baroque bows aplenty, solid bassoon action and very fun trumpet interventions – sounded velvety.
A while ago a blogger who specialises in London trails liked my post about ‘giardiniera where I talk at some length about South Ken/how to get to RCM. I thought it might be a good idea to take some pictures for readers possibly unfamiliar with London, pictures illustrating how I get to Wiggy or St George’s etc. (you can click for biger views)
- It was only after I noticed the handy (or bummy?) cushion that I remembered the Pharos had sat in front of me before, but at a show where I upgraded to the right). Wiggy is the kind of place where you do end up seeing familiar faces after a while. ↩
- It’s always fun to see 20+ people crammed on the Wiggy stage. I see with pleasure that this trend continues to be joyfully pursued. ↩
Thought I’d point out that I made some updates to that unusually scatterbrained entry 😉 This blog is testimony that I’m not quite as lacking in discipline as it sometimes feels like… [ / end navel gazing, though we could have some naval gazing to go with that post ].
Out of that long list of Autumn 2016 at Wigmore Hall I posted a while ago I managed to secure the following:
But before all that there’s a return to the Proms (deities help us with the acoustics) with a concert performance of that badass 20th century 1 act opera:
03/08 Bluebeard’s Castle (Ildikó Komlósi and John Relyea)
…and who knows how the shaky state of events will impinge on my concert going afterwards (I know, first world problems; the (not so U)K is still part of the first world… for now).
Even so, looking at the ROH shows coming up on General Sale in a fortnight, there is Cosi which I will have to wing somehow (though I have no idea about Corinne Winters ? I hope Bychkov can keep it light) and this curious Norma. I don’t know what to say. Isn’t Yoncheva a bit young for Norma? Fura del Baus, though, sounds like might do something with this very difficult to stage opera. Then there’s Hoffmann…
When I bought my ticket it was with JDD in mind, as up to that point several efforts to get into Werther had proved completely unsatisfying. That it had Grigòlo in the title role was, I thought, a good thing, since I had come to enjoy his sound and singing manner after a rough start.
I have by now learned to be cautious with singers because liking someone’s voice does not guarantee you will like them in every role and just going for something random can cause one to dimiss a perfectly good singer in a not so matching role. I’m saying this because I quite surprisingly am in agreement with the author or this review, which might be a first, though I read his stuff because he’s knowledgeable. Namely, I felt that neither JDD nor Grigòlo were quite right for their roles.
In the end, though, it wasn’t a bad night, thanks to Pappano and the ROH orchestra who was in excellent form. Even though I did not know before that this is a favourite of Pappano’s, I could tell he was in his element – everything ran smoothly, with details well fleshed out, and he had a very good hold on the whole (the thing felt well balanced across the acts). The orchestra purred; I especially enjoyed the contributions from the winds and brass, but they usually sound sweet. So there you go, saved by the conductor and the orchestra. Even the kids (you know how I feel about children in opera) did a very good job with their annoying carol.
Werther: Vittorio Grigòlo
Charlotte: Joyce DiDonato
Albert: David Bizic
Sophie: Heather Engebretson
The Bailli: Jonathan Summers
Johann: Yuriy Yurchuk
Schmidt: François Piolino
Brühlmann: Rick Zwart
Käthchen: Emily Edmonds
Conductor: Antonio Pappano | Orchestra of the ROH
I couldn’t tell you what my issue was with JDD vocally (reason for which I referred you to the above linked review in the first place) but I just felt like her sound wasn’t what was needed. I’ve heard her live twice before and each time she was more than convincing so I have no doubt about her abilities. But Charlotte might just not be her thing. I also didn’t “feel” her dramatically, which rather baffled me, as I consider her a very capable actress. She seemed way too chaste/bourgeois, more like the Charlotte in the book than the very ambivalent one in the opera. Yes, I think Charlotte isn’t a good idea.
Quite possibly the super traditional staging, which in turn gave us a very traditionally-looking Charlotte didn’t help her with carving a more physically tormented character. Sometimes – especially in these OTT Romantic operas – you want the tension and unease to ooze out of the singer and I didn’t get that though I had my one-eyed opera glasses on her at the most important moments. That being said I couldn’t fault her for trying to flesh out the inner conflict during L’air de la lettre and expertly employing some of her trademark diminuendos in act IV. Alas, sometimes trying isn’t enough.
I liked Grigòlo better. To be fair, his part is a lot more interesting musically – also there’s a lot more of it, as it should be. I liked him (his stage presence is very good, dashing but not overly masculine – let’s not forget Werther spends the entire opera whinging about unrequitted love) – I like his voice and I like his natural manner of singing. But I do agree he’s not particularly smooth when transitioning from anguish to gentleness, though he can do both and he sounds good in both. I think he likess fff better than pp and he was lucky Pappano conducted this with lots of vigor.
Dramatically, Werther and Charlotte are very unbalanced in this revival (the production debuted in 2004 but I don’t know how it was then) – he’s mad with love/horniness from the moment they meet and she’s prim and proper until almost the very end. I didn’t feel like he had any reason to be so ga-ga over this frumpy housewife (awful costumes and hair for Charlotte), though you could say he doesn’t need much, he’s unhinged and that’s that. But I don’t know, I think the whole point is a descent into desperation, because when the opera starts he’s all like “weee! I love nature! I love life!”.
The review talks about the production in positive terms but I didn’t get all the subtle stuff. It’s most certainly not ugly, even pleasant in act I, with the oversized, diagonally placed wooden gate and ivy covered wall, complete with occasionally broken plaster (maybe that’s one of the subtle hints?). But it’s what it is, it does the job and that’s that. There is indeed a very technically accomplished timelapse done with lighting during the instrumental bit that illustrates the time when Werther and Charlotte are at the party in act I but to me that felt like big whoop. It does nothing dramatically. Likewise, the “snowflakes” (which look more like fireflies) in act IV are very pretty but still so what.
I think it would be wrong to say there’s no chemistry between Grigòlo and JDD but not on level with, say, VK and Alagna a few years back in Vienna. I liked that production a lot better as it gave them the opportunity to match the OTT-ness of the music with very intense acting (also it gives us more of an idea of who the hell Charlotte might be under the duty! children!1 mother’s deathbed promise! veneer). JDD manages to convey the post-marital depression borne out of trying to repress her attraction to Werther but it comes out as merely catatonic.
There’s one character who comes off very well and that is, oddly, Sophie. Charlotte’s younger sister (dude, the Bailli has 8 children, obviously by two different wives, given the large age difference between the older sisters and the wee ones) usually comes off as annoying but Engebretson manages to be only marginally so; she fits the production very well, you get the feel of the classic younger sister with a crush on the older sister’s boyfriend (or, in this case, would be boyfriend). She’s also a good singer, who doesn’t overdue2 it though she makes the most of her role.
Piolino and Yurchuk were entertainting3 in their secondary roles, as well, though comic relief characters always make me raise a metaphorical eyebrow in proper tragedies like this. Especially as they were hamming it up with lots of gusto, which made it feel like they were rather in the comedy next door. Considering that the mood in the Remain camp was a bit more than sombre yesterday, I was a lot less ready to see the fun in their campiness than I normally would. On the other hand I really empathised with Werther’s brooding and especially with Pappano’s flights of fff brass – so good it bears repeating.
So what do I think about Werther the opera? It’s better than I gave it credit for so far, though I’ll probably stick with live renditions, if possibly in the house or with visuals.
When operatic traditions are being so heroically fought for, we all let out a sigh of relief and perhaps a bit of envy:
By now, you’ve likely read some […] posts about what turned into an historical night at Wiener Staatsoper on Saturday while you were listening to or watching Roberto Devereux, maybe even listened to a sound clip.
Ah, I forgot, diva behaviour trumps honest performance as far as opera history goes. Maybe we should have more of that, it seems to have gone out of fashion a teensy bit. But did our soprano (who else?) mean to upstage/take revenge at her tenor (who else?)? According to NYT:
André Comploi, a spokesman for the opera house, said in an email that it did not appear to be an intentional slight.
Ok, cynics, she meant to grab a glass of water 😀 How about next time this happens (it will, somewhere in a tradition loving opera house) we get Tosca side with Scarpia and stab Cavaradossi instead? Then Scarpia throws her off the window at the end in the interest of closure. And the star baritone gets to encore an aria of his own choice (freestyle aria insertion, another opera tradition).
Patriarchy: Marry some dude you never met for the sake of the family, Lucia!
Lucia: But I’m in love with someone else!
Patriarchy: It’s ok if you don’t love him, focus on the fact that your brother is in trouble [because of bad political decisions].
Lucia: I promised I will marry someone else!
Patriarchy: Oh, a marital promise not blessed by a priest doesn’t matter.
Lucia: I don’t want to marry someone just because my brother is inept at politics!
Partiarchy: Shush, adults are speaking!
1) This libretto is what caused Feminism to erupt into the world, folks. Ok, not literally but OMG. There are no words.
2) Have you ever laughed when watching Lucia? Well, this production gave us unexpected opportunities (yes, more than one). There is a Live Cinema relay on 25 April, which may or may not be the reason why there were cameras today and will be again on 19 April. If there is a DVD so much the better, because humorous Lucia should be immortalised.
The harp sounded very fine in its solo. Also the glass harmonica worked nicely in tandem with Lucia. I think belcanto was served well through the evening, though it’s the kind of thing where you come for the singers – and the choir, that meddling belcanto choir we love from Bellini, Rossini and recently Mayr.
Lucia: Diana Damrau
Edgardo: Charles Castronovo
Enrico: Ludovic Tézier
Arturo: Taylor Stayton
Raimondo: Kwangchul Youn
Normanno: Peter Hoare
Alisa: Rachael Lloyd
Conductor: Daniel Oren | Choir and Orchestra of the ROH
The thing with this production is that there are many scene changes that for me felt quite disruptive, especially the one before the very last scene. Lucia has sung her long, complicated, famous bit and that’s when we get a break. Poor Edgardo, who cares anymore? At least he gets to slit his throat rather dramatically. Otherwise, the brouhaha about woo, gory! seems to have been pure hype, and not the best kind, as some people have shied away. A few pints of blood were shed but no actions we haven’t seen on crime shows for the past 20 years.
The stage was split in two, which I thought worked well in showing what the other characters were doing whilst somebody was singing. The only problem was that sometimes what the other characters were doing distracted from those who were singing. The worst hit was the Enrico/Edgardo duet, which was set during the time Lucia and her mezzo maid wrestled with and killed Arturo.
Because, you see, after Lucia – quite clumsily – stabs Arturo, the chap stays put for like 2min after which he bolts upright and tries to make it for the door. And he wasn’t even singing! The audience in my area was consumed with laughter. Not so fast, tiger, says the mezzo maid, and shoves him to the floor (mezzos are always resorceful). Lucia faffs a bit but then stabs him in the side. He writhes, they keep him down, Lucia brings a rock but is about to pass out rather than bash his head in. All this time Enrico and Edgardo are singing their hearts out and I bet you no one – outside of diehard Castronovo fans – was looking their way.
Another hilarious moment – which, to be fair, had everything to do with the libretto – was during the wedding reception, when Lucia – looking lalalala – is coming into the hall.
Enrico: If Lucia looks a bit unhappy, it’s only because of her mother’s recent death.
Arturo: So I’ve been told. But tell me something, I’ve also heard that chap Edgardo was interested in her…
Enrico: Oh, yea, but this has absolutely nothing to do with it!
They force Lucia to sign the prenup and Edgardo barges in (he’d made his way through Lucia’s conveniently open window – total lack of security during wedding receptions at the beginning of the 18th century Scotland, much like in Capuleti’s Verona). When he’s shown the prenup, he goes off on her:
Edgardo: OMG! You slag! How COULD you? You said you loved me etc.
Lucia: Well, guess what buddy, I was surrounded by my personality disorder(ed) brother, the entire (menacing) male chorus, an ambivalent cleric and not one but two ghosts and now you ask me how could I? Give a bloody girl a break, willya? Jesus.
She doesn’t actually say any of this, but she oughta. She should’ve also packed her suitcase a la Aix Ginevra and left that lot to their petty duels. But then she’d’ve got a bravura aria rather than a glass harmonica, ornament city mad scene. I mean that mad scene has every combination of ornament known to man (and, in this case, woman).
The good news is Damrau can pull it off. She needed a bit of warmup in act I but by this point her top was working flawlessly. She’s also an intelligent singer and the ornaments have a logical basis. What Damrau lacks is a sense of otherworldliness. She’s a very flesh and blood Lucia, which works well for the most part. You really don’t feel she’s a helpless victim and the dramatic arc is very coherent, from the beginning when she and mezzo maid dress in male attire to meet up with Edgardo by the Fountain of Doom where they have very explicit sex1 (sadly, the maid is not involved). This Lucia is a woman ahead of her time and Damrau is the right kind of actress to portray that.
But traditionally Lucia is an emotionally unstable woman – right from the Fountain of Doom scene she’s seeing ghosts – and quite a few Lucias go for weirdness in their mad scene (Gruberova stands out for me as a particularly weird one). No so Damrau. She’s playful and happy in a very non-psychotic-looking way. I like the strong woman approach but I admit I missed the oddness.
But let’s go back to the Fountain of Doom scene. It’s apparently the fountain where an ancestor of Edgardo’s had stabbed the woman he loved, which is an odd spot for Edgardo to meet the woman he loves. Then again, his last name is Ravenswood, so he’s strong with the spooky. Lucia knows the legend, has thought about it and has brought a small bouquet to lay down in memory of that unfortunate woman.
Wouldn’t you know the ghost comes right at her and gives her a hug and kiss! She’s naturally freaked out but then Edgardo arrives and they get it on whilst arguing over whether he should keep his oath to avenge his father (presumably killed by Enrico) or not. You’d think that would be a mood killer but I guess not when you’re pressed for time by conveniently (for the libretto) having to go to France on one side and getting married on the other. This business is mildly funny when contrasted with the impassionate singing but things get properly amusing when the ghost of the Fountain of Doom flirts with the both of them. I mean, I get it, they are both doomed but it’s still funny. I think it would be better if they could manage hologram ghosts but maybe that would look too cheesy? (Can belcanto ever be too cheesy?)
Next it’s morning in Lucia’s bedroom and oops, she has morning sickness. That’s your proof that talking about revenge ups one’s virility. She miscarries whilst/from killing Arturo but she will sing her mad scene.
But enough about the production. This evening was the third time the charm with Castronovo and I got to hear Tézier, about whom I was just saying the other day that I knew I had to hear him but I wasn’t sure why. Well, he more than held his own. He made for an unpleasant Enrico and sounded good (though not quite great) whilst doing so. Castronovo, though, was a bit of a letdown. I had seen that webcast of concert Lucia with Damrau and Calleja from – from where? one or two years back – and I remember liking Calleja better. What I mean is I felt that Castronovo’s darker tone got in the way. I was expecting more colour/variation in sound. His ppps sounded a bit funny, too, sort of flat rather than ppp proper. Maybe I’m wrong in my description but the sound seemed bent instead of diminished in volume. Also at some point Edgardo sings together with something like a continuo and the two were not perfectly synchronised. Other than that he was fine, rather good chemistry with Damrau. Maybe I need to hear him in something else.
Kwangchul Youn (as the ambivalent, Lorenzo-like priest) was another singer I had wanted to hear. He has a beautiful, expansive tone but I questioned his legato in the lovely Infelice! della mente/La virtude a lei mancò! Maybe Maestro wanted him to go rhythmical but I wasn’t quite won over.
It was a surprisingly mirthful evening. I also had a very chatty seatmate, we somehow veered into politics and managed to “stay friends” 😉 He first asked me who was my favourite soprano which proved easy enough to answer but then he asked who was my favourite tenor. I totally blanked out, I couldn’t come up with any name aside from JK 😉 I ended up saying I liked mezzos better than tenors which is both true and says it all though I don’t think he got it.
Generally the audience was very congenial and, as I said, with an unexpected sense of humour – you (I) sometimes imagine belcanto fans as these diehard romantics who keep to themselves and sigh at the moon Werther-style. I think the lady next to me (who fit that description) sobbed a bit during the Lucia/Edgardo bits. She also had a very loudly ticking watch (!) which initially worried me, as the seconds ticking away were a continuo accompaniment to the music – but then I either got used to the ticking or the people around me were laughing too hard. Kidding, actually during Lucia’s mad scene you could hear a pin drop.
Speaking of loud noises, Lucia tossed her brass tea set so energetically across the room when her brov came to tell her he won’t be mad at her anymore for consorting with the enemy if she married the Arturo dude, it reminded me of other moments in opera when singers throw/push things like they don’t care:
Alex Esposito as Figaro viciously kicking the count’s boots’ box across the stage during Se vuol ballare a couple of years back at ROH
Anna Caterina Antonacci as Vitellia chucking off her pearls which bounced off the timpani during Non piu di fiori in 2006 in Paris
Richard Croft as Idomeneo messing with the table during Nettuno s’onori in 2013 at Theater-an-der-Wien
Conclusion: this Lucia was mad but in the pissed off kind of way. I don’t object at all to this production because the libretto is kicking it so jawdroppingly old skool (for anyone 200 years removed from traditional culture; I am aware people still marry for social/policial reasons but I can’t get over it). I think going about this your emotions don’t count thing like it’s nothing is much worse than unintentional comedy.
PS: There was yet another funny moment: the brov presents Lucia with the wedding dress (of doom), that Arturo dude offers her the ring, the priest looks busy; they all loom on her like they’re about to put her in solitary – nothing works to convince her, she shoves them all away. So Enrico’s henchman, Normanno, pulls out a gun. Lucia’s like ok, nevermind, I will just sit on my bed. Also Damrau has mad timing – just before one of the scene changes or intermission (can’t keep up with them breaks) the curtain started falling so she dropped to the floor in record time still in time with the music 😀
- In the sense that it’s clear what they are doing, not that you see what goes where, unless you count Edgardo’s shirt which gets stuck where it’s not comfortable for Lucia – another unintentional moment of hilarity. Also their being very busy dressing and undressing in a very realistic manner somewhat clashes with the super impetuous belcanto moment. ↩
It’s out on the Wigmore Hall site (which is not supported by my Chrome browser; whatever it is missing I don’t know as I use it for most everything else; but I suppose we’ve established google-related stuff is a bit shit).
I’ve spent a couple of hours combing the online booklet for a wishlist but obviously there’s more (please excuse the caps but no way I am typing all that again; might be wise double checking the dates):
10 SOILE ISOKOSKI
22 FREIBURG BAROCK ORCH
1 BABS HANNIGAN
2 STUTZMANN / ORFEO 55
5 BONI! / SEMIRAMIDE
23 TOBY SPENCE 3PM
23 JAMIE BARTON 7:30PM
3 & 4 FASSBAENDER MASTERCLASS 1PM
10 I DAVIES
15 HAIM / MOZART
24 STU JACKSON
28 LA CALISTO 7:30PM
29 PRINA / INVERNIZZI (third time’s the charm?)
31 ENGLISH CONCERT 7PM
9 EGARR HARPSI RECITAL
16 MONTEVERDI MADRIGALS
29 ST. DEGOUT
15 MATT ROSE
18 UCHIDA /CLARINET
29 EARLY OPERA CO
9 TALENS LYRICQUES
12 COUPERIN CONCERT
17 LONDON HANDEL PLAYERS
1 ZAZZO / LUTE 1PM
8 GENS 1PM
10 BOSTRIDGE / 9 JULY
7 ENGLISH CONCERT
11 BEN JOHNSON
24 BARTOLI / JAROUSSKY
7 ANTONACCI 7PM
Siurina’s partner, Charles Castronovo, was scheduled to perform but once again he eludes me. Instead we got to hear a young singer which we (I) remember from the 2014 JPYA at Royal Opera House Summer Show, in which he was (o mio) Fernando. Siurina is quite well known as for instance Adina in L’elisir d’amore, or Ilia in that Salzburg Idomeneo where Harteros chews scenery, but readers with similar tastes to mine might remember this image even better:
Indeed, I first came across her as dreamboat Servilia in the famous Paris “Potato” production of Tito. I looked up her Askonas Holt profile and it seems a Morgana and a Cleopatra are the works. Bring them on, I say.
Ekaterina Siurina soprano
Luis Gomes tenor
Iain Burnside piano
Suzel, buon di (L’amico Fritz)
L’alba separa dalla luce l’ombra (Quattro canzoni d’Amaranta)
La pastorella dell’Alpi (Les soirees musicales)
Malinconia, ninfa gentile
Giacomo Puccini (La Boheme)
Che gelida manina
Mi chiamano Mimi
O soave fanciulla
Temperamentally Siurina and Gomes are very different. He earnest and impetuous, she playful and cute as a button. If he came into his own with Che gelida manina, for which he has the passion and Italianate tone, her most memorable point before the interval was Rossini’s La pastorella dell’Alpi. Siurina’s gift for comedy and witty phrasing of the (very silly) coloratura were pure delight.
Me voila seule dans la nuit… Comme autrefois (Les pecheurs de perles)
Sergey Rachmaninov 1
Sing not to me, beautiful maiden/Ne poy, krasavitsa, pri mne (6 Songs Op. 4 No. 4)
In my Garden at Night/Noch’yu v sadu u menya Op. 38 No. 1
To Her/K ney Op. 38 No. 2
How fair this spot/Zdes’ khorosho Op. 21 No. 7
They Answered/Oni otvechali Op. 21 No. 4
A Dream/Son Op. 38 No. 5
Spring Waters/Vesenniye vodï Op. 14 No. 11
Charles Gounod (Romeo et Juliette)
Ah, leve toi soleil!
Va, je t’ai pardonne… Nuit d’hymenee
In terms of skill it was hard not to notice Gomes was the junior partner in this joint. Both of them have large enough voices to make your ears ring even when sat at the back of the hall. Driven by youthful enthusiasm, Gomes took every opportunity to soar as Italian tenor in full cry. There’s no doubt this is his path, a path that allows a good deal of shouting, but when he chose to sing one of the Russian songs entirely below full power it wasn’t unpleasant at all. A bit of variation in volume dynamics is a good thing even for his preferred repertoire. When in duets the both of them turned up the volume to the max the sounds became harder to distinguish, let alone the words. That’s a shame, because he has a beautiful, manly tone up and down the range which we want to hear and bask into.
For her part, Siurina showed a variety of dynamic approaches. Though not a small voice, hers it’s remarkably vibrato-less and still wonderfully flexible. I’m not sure whether the Russian songs were more uplifting than usual or it’s just her light hearted personality as she breezed through them. I’d say she doesn’t sound like the typical Russian soprano. In the Italian songs she balanced between a “relaxed” manner and a full on operatic one, which I thought was rather interesting and reminded me of Antonacci’s way of singing them.
Burnside accompanied but I have to say between each of the singers’ pizzazz I lost him. In any case, this was an interesting break into my Handel-fest. Will definitely make time for Siurina’s recitals in the future and perhaps I’ll catch Gomes when I venture into his repertoire.
- I don’t know if the Russian is correct, I copied it off Wigmore Hall’s site. ↩
As I said on other occasions, my current opera knowledge pertains to the past 15-20 years. Every once in a while I make time to get further acquainted with the past in order to enrich my understanding of the art. Sometimes the best part is the risible fussiness, spice of the comment section.
The other day (by which I mean last July) I was reading what I thought was a very intelligent and relaxed interview with the great Romanian lyric soprano Virginia Zeani. Later I scrolled down to the comments to find a longwinded, passive-aggressive hissy fit from someone who accused the interviewer of “gross lack of respect” for Zeani because he didn’t blindly worship every note that has ever come out of her mouth (surprising reaction considering the interview was a very down to earth conversation with Zeani; all I can suppose is the poster didn’t like to hear an old school diva talk like a very together and often humorous human being).
I’ve read a lot of bollocks online from opera fans but this one took a certain cake. It illustrates a way of writing about opera that has always irked me. Terms such a assoluta, perfection, magnificent, stratospheric, voice of the century are thrown about with wild abandon and make up the heart and soul of such posts.
Now don’t get me wrong. It’s wonderful to feel you have witnessed a special moment; there’s nothing quite like when you get exactly what the singer expressed through singing, to the point where an interview on the subject is superfluous. It’s even great reading about others’ similar experiences, when the writing is so vivid it’s almost as if you feel the same thing they did.
What I am objecting to is posts/comments that consist of little beyond continous fawning over human beings as if they never burp or fart. You’re not talking about something threedimensional anymore; you’re not telling me anything, either about the interpretation or about what it made you feel. It’s a diarrhea of superlatives.
The amusing part of the comment came when the poster chided the interviewer for sloppiness in regards to the exact number of times Zeani had sung Violetta – this in the context where Zeani herself said she wasn’t sure! Talk about not seeing the forest for the trees.
I admit I like a bit of cheap drama, so 9 times out of 10 (and sometimes 10 out of 10) I venture in the comment section. I’ve never believed that comments should be disallowed on youtube or anywhere else. Moderation at the discretion of the poster is ok. Anyway, I was re-listening to Choir Accentus’ (and all) beautiful rendition of Mozart’s Great Mass in C minor reccommended by Rob and checked to see what others thought.
Well, a random conversation sparked up on the subject of clapping after a Mass, especially if a Mass is sung in church, such as was the case here. I tells ya, some people have a talent for zero-ing in on the important stuff. My take is it’s not religious worship, it’s a concert, so clap away. But what do I know, I got shushed whilst visiting a cathedral just the other day. If people want perfect quiet they can pray at home not in a public place. The rest of us are alive. Also, god does not actually reside in “the house of god”.