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Devereux 4This season’s Met Donizetti Tudor Trilogy concluded with Roberto Devereux, given its penultimate performance by HD transmission Saturday, April 16. It is good to see these works finally given here; they are too important, too crucial a part of the operatic repertory to have been ignored for as long as they have. 

Having heard the Met Livestream at its premiere, as well as some succeeding performances on Sirius, I was intensely curious to see how it played out visually. Opening night was problematic vocally, fraught with what sounded like nerves or exhaustion. In addition, Maestro Maurizio Benini’s tempi were soggy, draggy and portentous. Improvements commenced subsequently, although certain drawbacks, which I will discuss below, remained throughout the run.

David McVicar, the designer and director, kept scenic matters on the traditional side, with richly dark, forbidding, but handsomely conceived sets which served as a fitting backdrop for the drama. Some of those concepts seemed unnecessary and confusing; the orchestral prelude had the choristers surrounding and paying tribute to the queen’s marble tomb, then facing, and staring at the audience. This seemed superfluous.

Then, at several points in the performance, the chorus was relegated to standing in balconies on either side of the stage, observing the proceedings below. At the very end the cast bowed to the applauding chorus before doing so to the audience. What purpose this served was unclear.

It was also unclear why Sara, the Duchess of Nottingham, initially decked-out in royal garb, was subsequently made be be dressed as a scrubwoman for the rest of the opera.

The most egregious act of savagery that McVicar committed, though, was having the queen made to look like a Grand Guignol ghoul in the opera’s crucial closing scene. In Elisabetta’s music, we hear, quite vividly, her womanly anguish; but it is of a monumental kind, filtered through the sovereignty of a queen, with all of her majesty. Her grief, via the composer, is made epically implicit. To strip Elisabetta physically of her dignity by suddenly turning her into a doddering, wizened old hag, laid bare before her subjects, seems deeply atypical of a queen’s behavior.

It is not just here that McVicar similarly imposed this idea: in the Met Anna Bolena, he had Anna looking like a mental patient escapee (but not when Netrebko sang it); and in Maria Stuarda, Maria is made to be nearly bald (history tells us her hairless head wasn’t revealed until she was chopped, when her wig fell off).

The shock value aspect—revealing each queen to be “just a woman”—seems more like a gimmicky fallback cliché than a dramatically credible device. It veers toward the melodramatic and slightly tawdry. In the Devereux, if there has to be a tear-off-the-wig moment, the timing of it in McVicar’s staging—right at the beginning of the scene—seems wrong dramatically. Having it flung off near the end seems a more apt place.

All that aside, this is in many respects one of the best-directed, and blocked bel canto stagings I have ever seen. I have rarely seen such care in the “working-out” of all of the crucial duets and one-on-one confrontations. These players are made to be clearly listening to, and interacting with each other. Reactions to specific words and phrases are compelling, and vocally and physically, there’s a dynamic sense of the drama’s stake taking place.

Best of all, there’s an obvious collegial sense of duty and rapport, an active mission to work together harmoniously in the service of the proceedings. This element, by far, was the most successful factor in the production; there was nothing that smacked of the worst of provincial Italian opera in any way.

Elina Garanca is far and away the best Sara I have ever encountered, in every possible aspect. Her physical beauty alone makes it very credible that she is both the object of love in Roberto’s case, and of jealousy in Nottingham’s. Sara is considered the seconda donna, but you’d never think that given Garanca’s natural stage charisma. The Latvian mezzo’s lustrous, brilliant tone afforded real pleasure whenever she sang: her sinuous legato in “All’afflitto é dolce il pianto,” and “Dacché tornasti,” in particular revealed a shimmering, ductile beauty of tone.

Garanca’s vowels and consonants are scrupulously crisp, clear, and conscientious; even during tense dramatic moments, the tonal emission remains firm and centered. The voice is all of a piece, with blooming, pealing highs, and a firm, well-supported lower register. Garanca’s singing and performing in this run of performances sustains her high-caliber international reputation. May we please hear her as Léonor in La favorite?

Matthew Polenzani, in the title role, continues to grow in leaps and bounds as an artist. His recent star turn in the Met’s Pearl Fishers, took me by total surprise in his beautifully poised soft singing and involved stage presence. He turned in no less for Roberto’s “Come uno spirto angelico,” which was sung with flair, beauty of tone, the breath control remarkable. In addition, Polenzani showed rapt involvement in all of his scenes, in particular the duet with Sara, in which he convincingly effected romantic ardor, physically and vocally.

Earlier, in contrast, his standoffish recalcitrance with the demanding Elisabetta was equally well played out and conveyed. Ostensibly, the friendship between Devereux and Nottingham is a platonic one, but the affection the two were made to portray—hugs and kisses—might have inadvertently hinted at something further. But it did effectively underline the massive betrayal Nottingham registers when Sara’s scarf is revealed: he’s lost both best friend and wife.

Marius Kwiecien, as Nottingham, is a superb physical actor. He has an old-tyme swarthiness and a theatrical, Boothian look to his persona, and cuts a dashing figure onstage. Kwiecen was especially vivid and intense in the duet with Garanca, well conveying the hurt and dangerous anger at her transgressions.

Vocally, though, matters were starkly inconsistent. Kwiecen has a most pleasing tonal quality, but he has a distressing tendency to throaty belting, especially above the staff, and it disturbs the cantabile lines of his phrases. In fact, both the baritone and tenor frequently appear to lose resonance in declamatory and higher-lying forte passages (Polenzani appeared to tire during the cabaletta). These are matters of concern rather than deal-breakers in so much that was outstanding.

In a more scholarly vein, though both tenor and baritone sang double verses of their cabalettas, there were no variations utilized for the second stanzas (I always wonder, in these times of awareness of stylistic elements in the bel canto realm, how these matters get persistently overlooked or disregarded when it comes to the male singers).

As Elisabetta, Sondra Radvanovsky, in far better form than in the premiere, reached heights of true magnificence in the pivotal final scene. Freed from the earlier distractions of having to enact contrived bits of business (more on that shortly), she’s allowed to revel in the lyricism of Donizetti’s magisterial, and perhaps greatest, grandly dramatic final scene.

Radvanovsky, it must be said, here sang her heart out; personally and artistically, it was a triumph. Personally, because she appears to really be transmitting Elisabetta’s broken soul with the sincerest outpouring of herself: artistically, she shows real affinity for the Donizettian cavatina. The soprano revels in displaying her fine dynamic control, and the long, unbroken line, in which she excels; the exquisitely plaintive, poignant emotions within those lines suit her gifts most persuasively.

Other than the costuming choice I objected to above, allowing Radvanovsky to be relatively still and unencumbered during this scene proved to be marvelously felicitous. The spotlight just on her, everything else out of the picture, she made time stand still by just being at one with the music (and a touching moment occurred during the bows when she appeared overwhelmed by the roaring ovation she received.)

Elsewhere in the performance, two other moments stood out. Radvanovsky effectively conveyed Elisabetta, the woman, and her tender, wistful side in “L’amor suo mi fe’ beata,” etching its lines with care and skill. Also notable was her sympathetic entreaties to Roberto in their duet; the soprano touchingly revealed Elisabetta’s most vulnerable emotions with quiet fervor; “Oh rimembranza… Un tenero core” was, especially, gorgeously sung.

As to the reservations, first to the dramatic: can there please be a lasting moratorium on the “neurasthenic” extraneous physical characterization in the portrayal of Donizetti’s Queen Elizabeth?

Nowhere in Donizetti and Cammarano’s sweeping, sovereign conception of Elisabetta, either in the text or the music is there any indication of a nervous, twitchy, fidgety queen as the one Bette Davis popularized in her 1939 movie, The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex. Though well-received at the time, Elizabeth is one of Davis’s hammiest, and ultimately, most anachronistic creations: she’s more Davis than anything else.

It may be Davis in costume, but what comes through is all of the characteristic Davis mannerisms—nervous, fidgety, and twitchy (one of the reasons Davis preferred William Wyler as her director is that he tirelessly squelched those mannerisms).   Beverly Sills, as evidenced in the 1975 performance from Wolf Trap, plainly adopted the Davis model. Whether it worked in tandem with Donizetti’s is a matter of debate.

Unfortunately, being long familiar with the Wolf Trap video, I saw much evidence that Radvanovsky studied it, and used many of Sills’ Davis manifestations. Too, I heard, throughout the trilogy, many aspects of Sills’ performances—certain lines taken up, bits of phrasing identically intoned, and occasional interpretive ideas—being utilized. Only in the final scene did Radvanovsky emerge as her own, more appealing entity.

Act two, I felt suffered as a result; it was not Radvanovsky’s strongest work here. She seems less confident in the imperious-seize-the-drama mode, and she indicated anger and frustration in ways that Sills did: slamming of hands on the table, lurching and pitching about, and much in the way of extraneous, unceasing physical reactions. All these busy manifestations betray dramatic insecurity. Elisabetta here has the upper hand, and her majesty should be all-encompassing, regal and mighty. Her words and manner are decisive, intractable, and unyielding.

Now to matters vocal: the issues I have with certain traits in Radvanovsky’s singing, I have concluded, are most likely mine; but in the interest of disclosure, it is only fair of me to detail why.

I have, in the span of about two years, heard/seen of Radvanovsky in several Anna Bolenas, Normas, Maria Stuardas, and Roberto Devereuxs. Overall, I thought her Maria Stuarda was the most successful, because the role calls for, mainly, the kind of plangent, lyrical singing which is her strongest suit. Radvanovsky’s natural vocal endowment is one of the greatest in opera today: its fullness, size and strength is matched by few of her peers. There are, though, elements which I feel make her work less optimal than it could be.

In my opinion, the areas where she is less effective and convincing lie in her recitative, declamatory sections in moments of high drama, and difficult passagework.

Radvanovsky’s vowels tend to be rather bland, and are quite often discolored. Consonants will blur or flatten out. Her grainy tonal production strikes me as low, and laryngeal rather than high, frontal and resonant; could this be the reason why her vowels don’t emerge—and “place”—clearly? The “eh” vowel seems to give her the most trouble; when she sings a word like “furore” for example, it comes out like “furori;” “orribile like “orribili.”“Ah” will sometimes sound like “uh.”

And yet, there are other times when those vowels will have their correct integrity of coloration; when she intoned “Non ami” in the duet with Roberto, Radvanovsky produced an effectively “chesty” sound. Yet, throughout, in “Alma infida,” and in the bottom notes of other phrases, you’ll hear a vacillation between a diffuse lower note, and a more pungent one.

This inconsistency in her tonal palette I feel restricts her effectiveness in the second act, where Elisabetta has many strong, vigorous lines which require some bite in the tone, and a kick of firm, decisive vowels and phrases. Here, crucially, the queen has so many memorable moments of exciting febrility where the soprano can turn herself completely loose in the reveling of high drama; and Radvanovsky seems inhibited and cautious, her rhythmic sense not strongly defined in the deployment of key phrases. Benini’s slow, un-propulsive conducting seemed to prevent Radvanovsky from gaining momentum in building to the climax, “Va, la morte.”

Controversial too, are Radvanovsky’s sopracuti. Sometimes they work, but many times they do not, emerging as a hoisted-up yelp. Again, I think this results from where she places the tone, which seems to be laryngeal, from which lacks ideal ping and resonance, and causes the characteristic flutter we often hear, especially as the line rises. At times this fluttering tonal emission will veer on the underside of the pitch.

I also gather that her opacity of tonal production prevents difficult passagework from being ideally springy and buoyant, as in the cabaletta to the first aria. Sequences of notes blurred rather than being distinctly articulated, and the repeated high Bs were “dragged” across rather than separated by repeated, accented strikes on the notes. Sutherlandian precision in coloratura is not Radvanovsky’s; on the other hand, the latter artist is vastly superior in the moulding of a slow melody.

My reservations by no means nullifies Radvanovsky’s personal triumph. Her success promoted the validity of these works, which, frankly, I thought would never see the light of day at the Metropolitan Opera.

In being critical in the ways that I outlined, it is perhaps to my disadvantage that I have decades of study, in both score and performances, behind me, so that I have many more firmly-held views than someone who has only a casual, or no experience with Roberto Devereux. As it is, I enjoyed this performance very much, because it further contributed to my experience; and, if it must be said, I am overjoyed that this great work of Donizetti’s is getting the showcase it so deserves.

Photo: Ken Howard/Metropolitan Opera

  • Jmrd

    I am one of those people with no experience with Devereaux and I have to say I hated this opera. I found the first two acts hard to sit through. The long pauses between the phrases had me rolling my eyes and thinking “just get on with it already”. The lack of music and it’s ponderous tempo left me bored. It did pick up a bit in the third act but not enough for me to say I enjoyed the show, the whole afternoon was stultifying. Maybe I just don’t like bel canto or Donizetti, I’m not sure.

    • Cocky Kurwenal

      The lack of music?

  • Niel, thank you for a wonderfully detailed review. I enjoyed every word. And based on having heard Radvanovsky live and on recording in a number of roles (Aida, Amelia, Leonora, Norma, and Tosca, in addition to her three Tudor queens), I’d say that yours it the most complete assessment I’ve read of her strengths and weaknesses. Bravo!

    • marshiemarkII

      Kudos echoed fully! Bravo Niel!
      I also loved every word, especially the description of Garanca! :-)

      • Niel Rishoi

        Thank you so much, Kashania and MMII!!

  • none

    I have to say that I agree with Jmrd’s opinion of Roberto Devereaux. When I left the cinema I felt completely out-of-sorts, thinking there was something wrong with me. It is a relief to find someone else who felt the same!! I did enjoy Anne Boleyn however.

  • Porgy Amor

    Great job, Niel. I always love to read your well-considered evaluations of singers, which I have seen here and there over the years in various places, so I am glad you are in the rotation here.

    • Niel Rishoi

      Thank you, Porgy!

  • phoenix

    Rishoi, a writ for the ages. Her personal triumph seems to be an obligatory theme of every review of these performances but the bulk of an iceberg is under water and I, for one, appreciate you putting on your skindiver’s outfit to grasp such depth of detail.
    -- Not being very intelligent nor such a great fan of A) this particular opera nor B) the primadonna, I had to listen to the bdcst simultaneously as I noted the elements of your text -- in an attempt to audially correlate your observations -- and that was a chore in itself. As much as I love your writing, I still don’t care for A) or B) anymore than I did before -- but the revelatory accuracy your analysis is more than worthy of study.
    -- Like some of the commenters above, I am relieved with the realization that I am not the only one on this earth who hears the call of the murky foghorn in the diva’s tones.

    • Niel Rishoi

      Phoenix, I appreciate your telling me that you tried to like the opera based on what I wrote on it. I suspect that you might like it better with a soprano who better appealed to you. You just never know how any voice “settles” with any given person -- it is a mysterious paradox indeed. Singers I love some people dislike -- and singers I dislike some people love. You see how debates go in this regard till they’re blue in the face AND till the cows DO come home. Thank you so much for your feedback.

      • phoenix

        The cows have already come home -- as you say, it’s the singing that gets me into it. As I read your generous comment above, I realized how bad off my memory has become in old age. Yes, there were other singers I heard in broadcasts as Elisabetta in Roberto Devereux performances over the years that I did like very much. As I have explained before in other comments, I keep my favorite broadcast performances in archive ‘scrapbooks’ going back many years. There are probably even more performances of Devereux I liked that I wasn’t able to archive because of poor quality. But I am lazy in old age & also have other hobbies to take up my time and bottom line is it’s easier to shoot the shit on than to scrutinize the long, long, lists of files of complete operas in my scrapbooks. But the scrapbooks don’t lie like I do -- I really have to like a performance quite a bit to put it in there. At any rate, as late as 3 years back -- 2013 -- I archived one with Alexandra Deshorties as Elisabetta from Cardiff, Wales; in 2010 another Roberto Deveruex with Carmela Remigio from Roma; and in 2002 the famous & most worthy one with Nelly Miricioiu from ROH.

        • phoenix: That Miricioiu Roberto Devereux is a good one for sure. If you come across it, give the live Caballe/Carreras performance a try. Both are in fabulous form and make a good case for the piece.

          • phoenix

            Thanks kash.
            -- I’ve got a terrible habit: becoming weary of certain singers who 1) sound more or less the same in every opera; and 2) use the same unique vocal bag of tricks technique over & over again until it’s no longer unique nor interesting anymore. But I will give that Devereux you recommend a listen. I always liked Carreras. Few singes in late career were able to compensate for vocal issues as elegantly as he did.
            -- Question: you have seen Roberto Devereux live in a different theater. Does Radvanovsky always wear that mosquito net pictured above?

            • phoenix: Yes, it’s her trademark costume prop, don’t you know? She even wore at as Aida here back in 2010. ;)

            • phoenix

              hmmmmmmmm -- I thought so -- that mosquito net flapping around in the breeze temporarily distracts the audience from realizing how much more beautiful Garanca’s voice is

  • Great writeup Niel, but I’m puzzled by your use of the word “laryngeal” to describe Sondra’s vocal production. Strictly speaking your larynx is your voice box, and so all singers (and talkers) are “laryngeal” — they sing and talk from their voice boxes. What I assume you mean is her projection (or lack of projection) in the voice — that she often sounds the best when she’s singing a rather soft, wispy pianissimo rather than projecting the voice in a very forward manner. But that she’s producing her voice from her larynx isn’t a vocal method, it’s biology.

    • Niel Rishoi

      Thank you, Ivy. What Mercadante wrote below your comment was right on target about the “laryngeal” factor. I should have fleshed that out some. I am really quite surprised that Radvanovsky is able to sustain singing in this manner for as long as she has: singing that way is very hard on the vocal cords, and causes burnout quite early. She must have massive, thick vocal cords. Nilsson lasted as long as she did because the tone was so “forward” -- she was emphatic about never feeling it in the throat. Rad has such a large “sounding board” of a face: if she’d learn to “send” the tone through the resonators -- it’d be an even more torrential, brilliant sound.

  • mercadante

    He just means that she is singing back in her throat, i.e.: using a technique whereby she constricts her throat muscles around the larynx to control it rather than letting the air come up through the larynx freely, and into the mask first without constricting the muscles around the larynx in order to control,it. Sort of like stopping down the pipes of an organ.

    • Niel Rishoi

      I couldn’t have said it better, thank you!

  • mjmacmtenor

    The wig trick is at least 26 years old. Don’t recall Sills doing the wig bit. Did it start with Gruberova?

    • I love Montsy here. She throws her crown off like it’s a Burger King kids’ meal.

      • Niel Rishoi

        That crown didn’t thud with a crash, that’s for sure!

    • Niel Rishoi

      As far as I know, yes, it did originate here. At the outset, when the effect was new, it created genuine shock value, and it worked in the place where it was utilized. I’d say it kind of lost its effectiveness because it began to be like Jeritza undoing her hair in Tosca -- it became a routine thing to do.

  • Rowna

    A superb review, Neil. It is a challenge to describe so many aspects of vocalism accurately, and some adjectives are used so often, they don’t convey anything except a general viewpoint. You really outdid yourself in the detailed accounting of Rad’s portrayal. As an aside, I agreed with almost all your opinions. The “laryngeal” discussion was spot on. This is worthy of a treatise or three, but you managed in just a few sentences to express an overall blanket of the mechanics of sound production. I was not able to catch the HD and the encore is out for me as well. We have had family here for a week, and here is breaking news if anyone but you is reading this: I am moving from Pittsburgh to Connecticut to be closer to my family. Those grandkids and my own children are just too darn far. So goodbye to “Greetings from Pittsburgh” and hello to some new introduction. Giving away clothes, shedding lots of unused stuff, and organizing my life is keeping me busy, so opera is taking a back seat. Wish me luck!

    • phoenix

      This is breaking news. Pittsburgh Opera’s acoustics are my favorite in USA and I looked forward to your reviews. But let’s look forward, not back. Not since Mark Twain moved to Hartford has there been such breaking news!

      • manou

        Mark Twain, on Jane Austen: “Every time I read Pride & Prejudice, I want to dig her up and hit her over the skull with her own shin-bone.”

        • aulus agerius

          hahahahaha best MT quote I’ve ever read!

    • Camille

      Rowna dear--
      It IS big breaking news and I wish you the best of luck with the move and look forward to “Live from Connecticut!” As it’s closer to the MET, and hopefully you will not be situated in a city closer to Massachusetts, you may be able to come down to NYC more often. At least, one hopes so.

      • Until I had time to catch up with the rest of this thread, I assumed the “big breaking news” must be that Rowna would be taking over from AN as Norma.

        • Camille

          Perhaps that’s the reason Rowna is moving to Connecticut but she is too discreet to say!

          I was just thinking about you, NPW, as I did another “walkout” last night. Just couldn’t hack it. Bitterly reproached myself for lacking the patience to hack it, but still walked out. The liberation I feel is intoxicating and overtakes my puritanical scruples, every time. If you are ever in NYC, we can walk out together and giddily breathe the refreshing night air.

  • Angelo Saccosta

    It’s wonderful to see Donizetti finally given the praise and appreciation that have always been his due, and to have had a NY opera season with no fewer than six of his greatest works, including the much neglected Poliuto at Amore Opera. He died at age 51, stricken with syphilis. Had he not, he might very well have lived and composed for another 25-30 years, bringing him face to face with Verdi, who had already absorbed so much of Donizetti’s music into his very soul.
    May I invite Parterriani to speculate on the relationship that might have developed between them, if any, given what we know of the character and disposition of both men.
    I look forward to your musings !!

    • phoenix

      Angleo, Donizetti is my favorite early 19th century composer. As to what might have conspired into the 1850’s & early 60’s, I’m not quite sure but one thing I feel certain about: Linda di Chamounix (1842) was Donizetti’s farewell to formula style coloratura operas. I have only seen Linda di Chamounix once -- live at Caramoor with Sarah (and once on video with Grubbie) -- I could barely get through it either time -- this is not the Donizetti I love.
      -- I’m very fond of his last 4 operas: Catarina Cornaro, Don Pasquale, Maria di Rohan and Dom Sébastien, which show great individuality of style and in Maria di Rohan, more personalized characterization of the situation at hand. As to what he could have done left to his own devices + Verdi’s omnipresence, I hope he would have filled in the gap left by early-mid-Verdi’s lack of comedies -- how successful these would have been, of course I don’t know.
      -- In the tragedies it’s hard to foresee where he would have gone. Dom Sébastien is probably my favorite Donizetti work. Whether it was Berlioz’ influence or something else, this is remarkable music (particularly the orchestration), much of it in an entirely different class from anything he wrote before. The [mezzo-]soprano has no stunning fioritura writing -- whether that was Donizetti’s choice or Rosine Stolze’s lack of vocal flexibility (or both) I don’t know for sure, but I am grateful for it. Even with a hackneyed libretto that doesn’t even approach the realms of believability, the cultural/political conflict at the core of the inspiration of this work rings true in terms of my love for Iberia and North Africa -- therein lies the origin of my fascination for Dom Sébastien.
      -- Confession: I only saw it once in the Paris Opera French version, but I prefer the revised Wiener Hofoper 1845 version in it’s Italian translation, Don Sebastian: Monica Minarelli as Zayda in the 1998 Aachen recording conducted by Boncompagni brings authentic Mediterranean folk-style rhythms to her singing -- she and the conductor make this recording my favorite.

  • thenoctambulist

    Big pluses of Sondra for me: for the first time, she uses a real rounded chest voice in some places and that’s marvelous. Hope she can get to use the same voice everywhere that’s needed, not just in two places. Her working of cavatinas in both L’amor suo beata and the finale was marvelous. I was surprised that there was so much music in them. She genuinely opened those musical phrases, even for a Donizetti aficionado like me. Big negative: coloratura. She lagged behind the first act cabaletta and it was painfully slow. 2nd act also she wasn’t nimble enough but it wasn’t a disaster like the first act. The finale was a maestoso anyway, so needs to be slow.

    All in all, her Elisabetta is a genuine accomplishment with some negative spots. Of all the three, I think she did not succeed only in Bolena.

  • brooklynpunk

    This is a fascinating read, and a wonderfully-written review….BRAVO!!!

  • Camille

    Mr Rishoi —-

    You have outdone yourself here and particularly distinguished not only yourself but this blog, so I say thank you, thank you, and THANK YOU. This is absolutely one of the best reviews of a performance I’ve ever read in my life.

    Ms. Radvanovsky’s achievement, whatever one thinks of or whether or not one likes the voice, etc., ad nauseam, is very real and quite a magnificent one. It’s my hope she will continue to work at this high level and keep refining the voice, magnificent in range and power as it is. To all the cast, a big bravo-- the excitement on the first night was palpable over the orchestra and I felt privileged to have been there--a thrill at this late date in my opera-going which I will cherish.

    And now I am betting on this being the precursor to my greatly desired wish of performances of La Favorite with three of these same participants.

    Thank you so very much for your fine considerations, which I found to be so correct, so accurate, and the product of many years of thinking on this opera.

  • Angelo Saccosta

    Well said, Camille, and thanks again, Mr. Rishoi.

  • Niel Rishoi

    A very hearty thank you to all who read and responded so kindly to my review.