Much virtual ink has been spilled about the imagined binary of traditional productions vs those in the mode of director-as-auteur, but it should be noted that the majority of the Met’s productions stymie this rather too schematic view. Few cleave fully to the most literalist traditions and fewer still aggressively reroute accepted narratives. This Gelbian middle path is a difficult compromise.  Like any other aesthetic it may lead to rote or revelation, but you run the risk of alienating the traditionalists and boring the radicals just the same.

With a few seasons on this Macbeth to take off the rush of the familiar but not enough to excuse anything for being dated, it’s as good a time as any to review it with some sort of equanimity, and the verdict isn’t a happy one. Between the flaccid camp of the witches’ mise-en-scene and the Xanadu floor show of the succession of kings, it’s a weak brew. A few arresting tableaux (Macduff in his jeep, the Lady testing her balance on a row of chairs that has little aesthetic reason for being an no narrative one) are inspiring, but in their isolation cry out for a more comprehensive vision.

This could all, of course, be excused by great music-making–which did happen; just not very much of it.

Gianandrea Noseda found all that is vital and sinister in the score’s most extrovertedly dramatic passages and the joyous lyricism of the few uplifting pages—after the death of Macbeth, for instance.  Perhaps he glossed over some wonderful moments of fidgety neurosis, but it was a fine reading overall and top honors go to him.  Dimitri Pittas, too, after quite a few seasons of perfectly good service in the house, continues to sing prettily and with style (if, for all this, it is not tremendously stirring stuff.)  Günther Groissböck brings a beautiful but slightly underpowered bass to the Met, along with umlauts galore, should anyone need a few.

But the thing is you go to Macbeth for two reasons, maybe more like one and a half.  The main draw is surely always the hapless woman chosen to sing a role that demands dramatic heft, accuracy in florid passages, and a (let’s not kid ourselves) highly non-optional D-flat.  Right, and you have to be scary and look smashing in an evening gown.

While I find the idea of faulting Nadja Michael for moving and wearing clothes well (and thus sidling up to the conspiracy theory wherein Gelb wants to turn opera into one big voiceless cinematic pageant) rather tiring, I’m afraid her strengths in this role do largely end there.  Even the acting, ostensibly her biggest selling point, was guided by an aesthetic of “too much is never enough” and sometimes completely undermined by inexplicable tics such as repeatedly tucking her hair behind her ears–Lady M as Serena van der Woodsen.

The voice is big and thrilling in places, and on occasion she finds a dramatic declamation to match her feline energy onstage.  More often, her phrasing is unmusical, her passagework little more than gestural, and her pitch well beyond suspect.  She pulled off the letter and its aria with some success (though I found a little bit of Mari Lyn in her repetition of “Sir di Caudore…[no, ma, I’m not kidding!]…SIR di [fuckin’] Caudore!”  The sleepwalking scene you can’t fake your way through, and she couldn’t.*  In local parlance, it was filth, I’m sorry to report.

Listening to Thomas Hampson, I spent some time trying to imagine how a fan hears him.  I’ve liked him from time to time (Amfortas was a flawless piece of singing) but in Verdi, I just can’t hear it.  There’s an authority that’s missing, and without it, it’s hard to limn the shifts between Macbeth, the man tormented by his deeds, and Macbeth, the beast driven to them by ambition, inner reserves of ferocity, and Michael’s singing.

There is beauty there (in the poetic legato of the big aria, say) and occasional majesty, but where he cannot deliver, he reverts to the maddening habit of crooning, our Shatner of the operatic stage.  In purely vocal terms, there are times one wishes to say to him “you’re too short for that gesture, and besides, it went out with Gobbi.” It’s not a terrible reading of the role, but it hardly stands beside his most compelling work.

Oddly enough, none of this is by way of saying you oughtn’t go.  Though I was rarely stirred to great emotion, I was not bored, and—in contrast with a certain five hour German opera which shall remain nameless–Macbeth never made me laugh at unintended comedy.  (Except for the pantomime barfing in the witches’ cave in Act III.  That shit has got to go.)

* Except the audience really loved her so, what do I know, maybe she could.

Photo: Marty Sohl/Metropolitan Opera

Best New Production at the MetDon Carlo

Worst New Production at the Met
Le Comte Ory

Best Revival at the Met

Pelléas et Mélisande

Worst Revival at the Met

Armida

Best NYCO Production

A Quiet Place

Best “Off-Broadway” Opera Production

Norma (Caramoor)

Best Performance by a Diva

Joyce DiDonato (Ariadne auf Naxos)

Worst Performance by a Diva

Deborah Voigt (La fanciulla del West)

Best Performance by a Divo

Jonas Kaufmann (Die Walküre)

Worst Performance by a Divo

James Maddalena (Nixon in China)

Best Performance in a Non-Diva Role

Felicity Palmer (Pelléas et Mélisande)

Worst Performance in a Non-Diva Role

James Morris (Roméo et Juliette)

Maestro of the Year

Fabio Luisi

Einspringer of the Year

Fabio Luisi

Debut of the Year

Eva-Maria Westbroek (Die Walküre)

Photos: Ken Howard (Ring, Pelléas, Don Carlo), Carol Rosegg (A Quiet Place), Cory Weaver (DiDonato).

Loyal parterrian Jondrytay (not pictured) looked in on the Royal Opera’s Anna Nicole and shared this thoughts on his blog Not So Wunderbar.

Well, now we know.

Best new production at the Met:

From the House of the Dead

Worst New Production at the Met:

Attila

Best Revival at the Met:

La Boheme

Worst Revival at the Met:

Der Fliegende Hollander

Best NYCO production:

Don Giovanni

Best “off-Broadway” opera production:

Il Mondo della Luna (Gotham Chamber Opera)

Best Performance by a Diva:

Anna Netrebko in La boheme

Worst Performance by a Diva:

Renee Fleming in Armida

Best Performance by a Divo:

Jonas Kaufmann in Carmen

Worst Performance by a Divo:

Marcello Giordani in Turandot

Best Performance in a Non-Diva Role:

Stephanie Blythe in Suor Angelica

Worst Performance in a Non-Diva Role:

Carlo Guelfi in Aida

Maestro of the Year:

Riccardo Muti

Einspringer of the Year:

Rachele Gilmore in Les Contes d’Hoffmann

Worst Night of Filth:

Tosca on opening night

And now the honorary awards (the “Lorgnette d’argent”) also nominated by you, the cher public:

• Best Bitch-fight: Luc Bondy vs. Franco Zefferelli
• Most Anticipated Cancellation: Angela Gheorghiu (not) in Carmen.
• Lifetime Achievement:  Charles Anthony
• Special Recognition for Outstanding Excellence in the Fields of Tireless Indefatigability and Persistent Proflicacy: BETSY_ANN_BOBOLINK

To wit: Even if a scene calls for something fantastical, and even if the mezzo doesn’t actually walk out of the production when she first sees the costume… if your imagery immediately and inevitably screams “Star Trek,” well… just don’t!

If you will avoid just this one little thing, O Regisseur, La Cieca promises she will not ask you why the company of Little House on the Prairie is playing host to Richard Tucker in cantorial garb.

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La Trasobares is, La Cieca believes, the missing link between Mari Lyn and Charo.

Composed in the early 1930’s, the opera was well received at its 1934 Leningrad premiere, and was also a success in Moscow a couple of years later. Then one evening Stalin came to see it and walked out mid-performance.

Shortly after, a now infamous diatribe entitled “Chaos Instead of Music” appeared in Pravda. Legend has it that the article was written by Stalin himself but regardless of who wrote it, Shostakovich became the victim of an unprecedented smear campaign. Performances of his music ceased altogether and he lived in fear of his life for many years. He made revisions to the score in 1963, but it is the original version that is usually performed today.

Based on an actual case, the opera tells the tale of Katerina Izmailova, a lonely, frustrated young woman who is ignored by her weak husband and dominated by her abusive father-in-law. She eventually resorts to adultery and murder to escape her virtual imprisonment. Unlike her more famous namesake, Katerina is not depicted as a larger-than-life monster; rather, Shostakovich affords his heroine a great deal of sympathy and understanding. In light of the violence and cruelty she confronts on a daily basis, her actions seem almost justified.

There is a lot of sex in Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk. Early in Act One, the men working in the Izmailov factory try to gang bang one of the female workers. After giving in to adultery at the end of Act 1 – underscored by a notoriously explicit orchestral interlude – Katerina develops an almost insatiable appetite for her lover, Sergei. At another point in the story Katerina’s father-in-law attempts to rape her while his son is away and in retaliation, Katerina poisons the old man. Her husband is later murdered by Sergei after catching them in bed together.

At the subsequent wedding, the priest and the guests goad Sergei and Katerina to kiss repeatedly in an almost voyeuristic frenzy. Even after being convicted of murder and on their way to deportation, Sergei uses the promise of sex to get the woolen stockings he needs from Katerina in order to spread the legs of his next conquest, Sonetka. Is it any wonder that one American critic referred to the opera as “pornophony?”

Interspersed between the bouts of sex and violence, Shostakovich pokes fun at communist society, the church, and the police state itself. (I suspect this is where Stalin walked out.) The contrast of melodrama and satire, tragedy and absurdity, is brilliantly reflected in the score. Arching melodies give way to simple folksongs. Complicated harmonic structures morph into off-kilter, almost grotesque drunken brawls. How do you pull all of that off in the opera house? The truth is that I don’t think it happens very often. And that brings me to the DVD at hand.

This 2008 performance (Arthaus Musik 101387) was ostensibly taped live at the Maggio Musicale Fiorentino. Let me begin by saying that conductor James Conlon and the orchestra are superb. Conlon is in complete control of this complex masterwork, and the virtuostic playing of the orchestra brings it to vibrant life. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said of the singers.

In the central role of Katerina, Jeanne-Michele Charbonnet is, quite simply, a mess. Her vocal production is effortful and throaty, her vibrato wide and intrusive, and her top notes are more like pitched screams. She is a decent actress and manages some nice dramatic moments, but all to often she is simply trying to get the notes out. She succeeds most of the time, but it is nerve-wracking to watch and hard to listen to. In her defense, she clearly knows every note of this difficult score, but she simply doesn’t have the vocal chops to do anything with it. Though an attractive enough woman, she is also hampered by her matronly appearance in a role heavily dependent on sexual allure.

As her lover Sergei, Russian tenor Sergej Kunaev is better, if not really distinguished. He is a good-looking man with what sounds like a decent-sized lyric tenor voice that he uses with solid, workmanlike efficiency. He also takes his shirt off a lot.

In the much smaller tenor role of the ineffectual husband Zinoviy, it is Vsevolod Grivnov who impresses vocally. He does not have Mr. Kunaev’s looks or physique, but his gleaming, well-produced tenor makes you sit up and take notice.

Baritone Vladimir Vaneev is also very good as both Boris, the dominating father-in-law in Acts One and Two, and the “Old Convict” who appears briefly in Act Four. He uses his large, not particularly beautiful voice with skill, providing both musical and dramatic insight.

Bass Julian Rodescu is simply dreadful as the Priest. I can’t think of one redeeming thing to say about his performance or his singing. Neither could the chorus evidently: one member is caught on camera clearly making fun of him during the Wedding Scene.

As the Police Chief, bass Vladimir Matorin overacts and sings with a voice so dark it is almost a caricature. I’ll concede that may be the point. Mezzo Natascha Petrinsky is lots of fun as Sonetka, Sergei’s last conquest and Katerina’s last victim. She is beautiful, sexy and vivacious, with a compelling dramatic presence.

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In order to create a successful performance of Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk, the director must have a firm grasp of both the tragic and the satiric elements woven into the libretto and the score, and must also have the technique and the skill to differentiate between the two, while still creating a dramatic whole. Director Lev Dodin gets about half or it right. He manages to convey most of the tragedy in a fairly straightforward manner, but he is woefully out of his element with the satire. Too often those scenes devolve into farce, with both the chorus and supporting players shamelessly overacting, lending an embarassing and unprofessional look to the whole show.

Also compromising the dramatic integrity of the performance is the need for many of the principals, particularly Ms. Charbonnet, to stare directly at Maestro Conlon during difficult musical passages, in effect “checking out” of the scene entirely. This is a perfect example of how the realities of a live performance do not always coincide with the needs of the camera. In the theater it was probably not that noticeable but on the DVD it is very distracting.

David Barovsky’s unit set is suitably grim and drab, with a large, wooden enclosure serving as the playing area for the whole opera. My one big problem with the set is that Katerina’s bedroom is only visible through a large, second-floor window. Every time someone goes to sleep, is told to go to sleep or talks about going to sleep they inexplicably bring pillows and comforter to the window sill, lean over and put their heads down on them. Very odd. It also creates moments of visual/logistical confusion. For example, in Act Two Katerina and Sergei are supposed to be in bed when her husband returns unexpectedly and walks in on them. But here, Katerina and Sergei are lying on a pallet center stage, she wakes up hearing footsteps “outside the door,” and then everyone has to run upstairs to be in the “bedroom” so Zinoviy can appear there and be strangled by Sergei.

Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk is a brilliant and difficult piece of musical theater. As is the case with so much 20th century Russian opera, we seldom get the chance to see it performed or hear it sung with beauty, intelligence and dramatic integrity by world class singers. Hopefully that will not always be the case but in the meantime, I’d stay away from this particular example.

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Rosenkavalier Duet

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Not the Greatest of E’s

(Don’t thank La Cieca; this stunner was sent in by Our Own Kernita Makilla.)

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Yes, cher public, it is good to be back.

Of course, there were also setbacks along the road to success. During a performance of “La Traviata” in Genoa conducted by Bonynge, the audience roundly booed tenor Lamberto Furlan to the point that the conductor and his wife, who had personally picked Furlan for the role, left the stage and refused to complete the performance.

Hear Mr. Furlan after the jump.

Lamberto Furlan

Some songs just steadfastly repel the crossover treatment. Some years ago Karita Mattila came to grief on “Diamonds are a Girl’s Best Friend” and now Anne Sofie von Otter doesn’t do much better. (Why does it always sound like they coached this number with The Opera Milf?)

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(The entire concert, which includes some quite creditable singing and ring-a-ding-dinging from Peter Mattei, may be found here.)

“You will forgive me my poor dramatic skills. I have only been performing the role of Violetta for six years!” 

E tardi!

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Paris
Théâtre des Champs-Elysées
06/14/2009
Kurt Weill : Die Dreigroschenoper
Ian Bostridge (Macheath)…

Oh, sorry, forget I said anything!

Oh, the shark has
Teeth like razors
And a massive
Overbite…

La Cieca is always impressed when a veteran artist chooses, instead of resting on her considerable laurels, to expand upon her knowledge of the art of song. This is especially true when a true diva chooses to study at the knee of another diva, even though the latter diva is younger in years than the former.

And so it is with pleasure bordering on glee that your doyenne presents the once and future Jessye Norman displaying the ripe fruits of her coaching with Renée Fleming.  

Climb Ev’ry Mountain