Furthermore, Vittorio Gui, who had already been introducing the Glyndebourne audiences to Rossini, was eager to add more belcanto works to the repertoire of that opera company. This effort is now documented on the CD just released on the Glyndebourne Enterprise label.  

The first thing that caught my attention is the butchery that Gui did to the score.   Not a single piece, with the exception of the Larghetto maestoso “Oh vieni al tempio” at the end of act I, escapes his scissors.  Small and big cuts abound everywhere.  At the beginning of the opera only half of the Prelude is performed; the whole instrumental introduction to the Allegro sostenuto marziale “Quando la tromba squilla” (about 25 measures) disappear, and the chorus itself is severely reduced.

Dame Joan apparently did not yet have sufficient star power, because even much of her music is slashed: the whole daccapo of her Act I duet with Giorgio is missing, and two big cuts in her Polonaise total over 80 cut measures.   In her Mad Scene, both the tempo di mezzo and the daccapo of the cabaletta are pruned.  This is the exactly kind of horror that very soon led La Stupenda to decide to drop her collaboration with any conductor other than her husband.

I could continue and list all the excisions, of which I have duly made a note, but it would be redundant and fastidious.  I will point out some of the most Draconian cuts as I comment the performances of each singer.

Gui, his blood-curdling editing choices notwithstanding, is quite good: graceful, elegant in the most lyrical moments, tense and suspenseful in the Allegro agitato assai of the dramatic conversation between Enrichetta and Arturo, and almost terrifying in pages like the storm at the beginning of Act 3.  He pays attention to details that are often overlooked, such as the Act II tenebrous brief ensemble “Quaggiù nel mal che questa valle serra”, an Andante of Gluckian tinge.  He likes it so much that he repeats it immediately before Elvira’s “O rendetemi la speme”, eliminating the horns and bassoons introduction written by Bellini.

He also proves to be one of those old school Italian conductors able to assist the singers, complying with, and often foreseeing their intentions.

Dame Joan is simply marvelous.  In the first act duet with the bass, she throws herself with gusto in the difficult agilità di forza that characterize this piece, produces two perfect consecutive trills on the G and A on the words “di dolor” and ends it with a huge, endless high D.  That she sails spectacularly through “Son vergin vezzosa” comes as no surprise, while more unexpected turns out to be the heartfelt anguish she communicates in the Act I finale, with a piercing, desperate F flat on the word “ahimè”.

This early in her career, the Australian soprano was clearly trying to pay a closer attention to her fraseggio, while in subsequent years the vocalist increasingly and unapogetically prevailed on the interpreter.  Even her diction, always her Achilles’ heel, was here much brighter and more comprehensible.  She is hardly a vocal actress, but her effort to articulate cannot be denied.

In 1960 both ends of her extremely wide range were equally strong.  In “Oh vieni al tempio”, the two octaves descent from high C to low C is stupefying.  Surprisingly, she does not conclude the first act with the high B flat written by Bellini, opting to end on an octave lower.   Another absolute rarity for Dame Joan is the small crack she experiences in the cadenza after “Ah tu non sai che più nol temo” in Act III, where for a fraction of a second her voice breaks on a high C sharp:  an insignificant incident in an otherwise flawless performance, in my opinion superior to both her studio recordings of this opera, which are however generally preferable for the reopening of the cuts.

Giuseppe Modesti (Giorgio), distinguishes himself for the handsomeness, if not for the volume, of his bass.  He is elegant, noble, paternal, and especially emotionally involved.  He invests his act II romanza with ductility through tasteful fiati rubati, rallentandos and messe di voce; his high Es flat are round and secure, while the conclusive low A flat turns out rather faint.

Ernest Blanc, at the height of his power, is a notable Riccardo.  His baritone is homogeneous, warm and rich, with a bass-like low register (the low A flat on “per anni ed anni” in his cavatina, a real hurdle for most baritones, is here perfectly supported and sonorous), as well as a confident top: both the high G at the end of the cabaletta (whose daccapo is eliminated) and the A flat concluding “Suoni la tromba” are notes that could peel the paint off the ceiling.   The only problem in this duet is that Blanc sounds more of a bass than Modesti.

With a cultivated legato, Blanc is a true gentleman, a chevalier, who elicits sympathy.  His pertichini during Elvira’s mad scenes are heartbreaking; the gorgeous phrase Bellini writes for Riccardo (“gli occhi affisa sul mio volto…”) is haunting in Blanc’s rendition, with a sweet E flat piano.

Blanc was active in a time when opera in France was mostly sung in the vernacular language, and his relative unfamiliarity with the Italian language is here and there manifest.  Other than this, his Riccardo is one of the best I have heard.

The fly in the ointment is the Arturo of Nicola Filacuridi.  The Egyptian-born Greek tenor, who Italianized his name as it was still fashionable in those days, is already slightly flat on the very first note of “A te, o cara”.  The famous C sharp lasts exactly a semiquaver.  I suspect he did not do it out of respect of Bellini’s notation (that’s how the composer writes it), but rather because he was unable to hold it longer.

Already facilitated by the huge quantity of cuts (for instance, more than half of “Non parlar di lei che adoro”, with all those Gs and As, is expunged), he sings the rest of the score looking for a compromise after the other.  In “Vieni fra queste braccia” (where over twenty measures of music vanish), he ducks the high D, while in the daccapo he switches parts with the soprano, who caps it with a glorious high C, drowning completely Filacuridi’s smallish voice.  In “Ella è spirante”, not only he does foreseeably skip the high F in altissimo, but does not even attempt the high D flat.   Furthermore, he often shuffles words when singing above an A, making sure the high note falls on the vowel E instead of A or O.   In a few words, an Arturo who can barely make it to a high C sharp is simply fraudulent.

Dame Joan’s frequent co-star, Monica Sinclair, sings Enrichetta, and bass David Ward is Lord Walton.

A final curiosity:  the CD cover lists British tenor John Kentish (Bruno) as the third name after Sutherland and Filacuridi, and omits Ernest Blanc altogether; the inside booklet places Kentish’s name at the very top (even before Sutherland!).  I would not be surprised if our own Vicar of Wakefield had had a hand in it.

Emotional Journey

Yes, there are (many) nights when she phones it in, but when Angela Gheorghiu decides to take the audience on an Emotional Journey, a queen could ask for no better tour guide.

Jay Caspian Kang: “From 6:42 on in this video, she really does morph into another being, someone who doesn’t quite follow the same laws of physics as the rest of us. Maybe a later version of these rankings could examine what exactly happens when the diva starts to get all incandescent and then starts fucking shit up? It’s like she just went up a level in Dungeons and Dragons.”

Stimm

At any given time during a golden era there are perhaps four or five truly great voices; in our own less generously endowed epoch, Dolora Zajick reigns supreme as exemplar of Stimm.

Kunst

A generation’s definitive Kundry is by definition also its supreme practitioner of Kunst:  Waltraud Meier. (Note that in the course of this study we have observed the Kunstdiva in two somewhat different stages of her metamorphosis: standing immobile next to a grand piano, and crawling in a frenzy across a mirrored stage floor. The only immutable aspect of the Kunstdiva is her caftan.)

Iconic Moment

JCK: “This should have been narrated by Scott Hamilton. It’s like watching Surya Bonaly do fifteen backflips in a row in Olympic competition, not giving a shit that the judges aren’t allowed to score them as legitimate jumps. On the last backflip, she catches a bit of an edge but holds…HOLDS! On! Also, 1:03 would’ve broken the scale for the pop divas hand gestures scale. Even Mariah would have run out of notes to point out!”

La Cieca replies, “Fan or no fan, you have to admit that Cecilia Bartoli has trademarked The Cenerentola Show. (La Cieca adores how the bootleg camera does its own merry jig in time to the diva’s “Sparkle, Neeley, sparkle!” body English.)

Cult Status

It’s still a bit early in Joyce DiDonato‘s career to grant her full Cult Status, though this performance may well mark the turning point. She’s singing no differently (i.e., with uniform excellence) than she did before breaking her leg, but now she’s That Girl with Spunk.

Mr. Kang, who has delighted us so often at Free Darko, also may be heard tweeting at maxpower51.

“The Times is still the Times, and Opera News is still Opera News,” says Ecclesiastes Zachary Woolfe, interviewed by Dan (who also, wonder of wonders, chats with none other than JJ) in “Net Effects,” an all-too-brief analysis of how “the Internet is changing the way we read about opera.”  La Cieca is gratified to note that our humble little cum-blog is mentioned in passing, in what is perhaps the most insidery bit of writing to be seen in the pages of Opera News since their cover story about Brian Kellow‘s annual tea dance on the anniverary of Dolores Gray‘s death.

As is their custom when publishing articles about online journalism, Opera News has not made this piece available online (yes, they are indeed 75 years old), so I guess, cher public, you’ll have to wait for your dead-tree version to arrive in the mail.

In the words of the prophet Zack, yes, indeed, the Times is very much still the Times, and La Cieca will further note that Dan Wakin is still out there beating the mean streets until the Met’s press office is ready to spoonfeed him his latest story. We get the 14th in a 200 part series about the Robert Lepage Ring in the New York Times today, this time with a slideshow of Rheingold images “from the first dress rehearsal” (presumably one that Bryn Terfel was in town for).

Now, of course, you can’t judge a production from the photographs, and all that (if nothing else, the Regie quiz teaches us this universal truth) and yet… These are images produced with the very close assistance of the Met, for what amounts to a puff preliminary for the company’s flagship production of the season, so maybe just a little close reading (or in this case, close viewing) might be in order?

Purely as observed as the selection of still photos published by the Times, this show looks to La Cieca a little plain, rather small, and (this is the worst of it) altogether tame.  Depending on how the “machine” is lit, sometimes it looks like a rather nice deck on a Hamptons share house, and other times it looks like the facade of a Soviet-era office block.

With the lights all lit and the thing moving, probably it’s a whole different experience, but the Met and the Times gave us still photos, so that’s what we have to react to at the moment—and react you will, I trust, cher public, to the images as well as to such ominous paragraphs as

The greater worry is that something— a prop, a wig or a limb — might get in the way of the slowly moving platform. Emergency stop buttons have been installed, and a rigging and safety adviser who often works with Cirque du Soleil was hired. An army of stagehands will guide the singers and acrobats in their movements about the set.

To La Cieca, and you know she has a best a gutter sort of imagination, this all sounds just too Stephen King for words. (“Having at last tasted human blood, the set was at last still, releasing only the faint sound that might have been a sigh.”)

First up: the Napa Valley Opera House. 

That’s after the jump.

The cher public are invited to join in the game. The signature parterre box tee is available at CafePress.

Ashley Dupre (aka Spitzer’s Muse) is hoping “sex sells” as she launches her new relationship advice column in the Post.  She competes for readers’ attention against our own James Jorden, well-known as a “friend” of this site. Who will be the bigger reader draw? Stay tuned!

If only Aunt Cieca could get her own relationship column in the Post! Then she could finally respond to some of Angie and Roberto’s letters.

So we learn from Susan Froemke’s Metropolitan Opera-commissioned documentary about the participants in the final round of the 2007 MetNational Council Auditions, which is out on DVD this month. Our own doyenne reviewed the film when it was screened as an HD theatrical event, and by now many of us know the winners and their work.

Since you are all wondering whether to rush out with $20 in your hands, perhaps a few remarks on the DVD release are in order.

We only first glimpse the competitors in April of 2007, when they have already been invited to the semifinals in New York, having made it through fierce competition in regional auditions. Eleven are chosen for the finals. Why them? How did these get here? As one of the judges tells us, “Making a career in opera is not one in a hundred… It’s one in thousands.” They are looking for singers “who have what it takes, who will make an interesting artist one day.” In other words: why not them?

Froemke has given us a very sensitive and perceptive, but disinterested, film that reveals these young singers in tender and emotionally unpredictable moments, in a competition where the stakes could not be higher. She avoids overdramatizing their plight almost at the expense of her point-of view. The result is grandly-paced documentary, and a voyeuristic pleasure (if that is the word, since it is hard to feel either envy or Schadenfreude for their situation) that plays far above the reality TV bar.

Well, almost. Tenor Michael Fabiano, at 22 the youngest of the singers documented, indulges a cameraman with a diabtribe about the audition process, specifically the tricky business of putting on smiling faces with backstage buddies who are, after all, competitors. Defensive in posture and with something of a chip on his shoulder, he grinds the axe a bit. But it’s hard to hold this against him, since the self-doubt in his rambling is both palpable and understandable under such pressures. And it isn’t likely to detract much from his career either, since he happens to be a spectacularly gifted Verismo tenor, an intuitive artist with amazing power and ping.

But not all singers get to the Met Finals quite so fully formed. The judges are also laying down bets – about whose voices will mature and find a Fach, and who has the personal strength for this punishing career path – in short, who will have staying power.  During a preliminary audition, Alek Shrader, a lyric-leggiero tenor in the Florez/Banks mould, already has the the high c’s and the character for a Nemorino or Almaviva incubating solidly. Alas, during a preliminary audition he has some trouble ending “Una furtiva lagrima” in tune, winding up a half-step flat at the end. Though his face betrays nothing as the accompanist sets down the final chords, it must have been crushing.

But, to tell the truth, in these early coachings, most of the singers are struggling. Many seem awkward displaying much more than the notes, mugging or gesticulating cheaply as they perform an aria out of context and lacking a director’s concept. Maybe it’s just auditions. Or maybe they’re not ready yet, but they’ve got It. How do the judges know?

“Someone who has something to say. Someone who is connected to the music –what the composer has to say. It’s about communication, not just about singing” is how Jonathan Friend, the Met’s Artistic Administrator, describes his ideal. Gina Lipinsky, a Met vocal coach, echoes him: “Opera is moving away from the idea that a voice is all that matters – everybody is looking for a package.”

One thing this film captures subtly, though vividly, is the extraordinary musical transformation that takes place during their time at the Met. The week spent at the Met preparing for the final audition is as much workshop as competition, because the Met supplies expert coaching, musical and repertoire guidance, and breathing classes. Ryan Smith, Kiera Duffy and Amber Wagner make particular strides.

In the final concert, all seem to have overcome many of the flaws in their earlier singing: voices have opened up; top notes, once crude, now have polish and gleam; music and text have connected; baritones know what to do with their hands. The experience has transformed them into artists, ready for whatever the future holds. Though, even after the winners are announced, that future remains a mystery.

Bonus features included in the DVD include a lively conversation with Renee Fleming, Susan Graham and Thomas Hampson, all once winners of the Met auditions. They reminisce about their experiences as young contestants, and offer advice to aspiring singers on repertoire and audition preparation. Also included is lengthy on-location footage from regional auditions in Texas, where we get a closer look at the weeding-out process, and eavesdrop on some very candid discussions between jury members Friend and Speight Jenkins. The DVD release is region-free, and lasts 157 minutes.

Postscript: One talented and genuine singer from Atlanta, Ryan Smith, sounds rather tight in “Che gelida manina” at the start of this film, but finishes with a triumphant performance that is mature, ardent, and crafty. Ryan was diagnosed with lymphoma not long after being named a winner in the 2007 auditions, and he died in 2008. Though we don’t learn too much about him from the film, his singing was a pleasure to witness, and his death is a tragedy.

A new revelatory, superbly cast recording of the simultaneously fascinating and boring Nixon in China would probably be happily snapped up by those who are more of a fan of this opera than I am. The new CD on Naxos is so not that recording.

For some reason Nixon in China tempts its interpreters to bellow and declaim. Since all productions are amplified and the lines are relatively sympathetically written for the voice this vocal distorion seems unnecessary. I’m willing to bet that Marc Heller (who “sings” Mao Tse-tung) is actually pretty fierce: he sounds like he can make some noise and his credits are impressive. Unfortunately, here he just screams and pushes his voice until pitches are unrecognizable. Or maybe Adams is just not his forte.

The same could be said of Chen-Ye Yuan as Chou En-lai. It’s obviously an interesting instrument but is not shown at an advantage in this ungrateful role. Tracy Dahl makes some impressive sounds in the extreme top of Madame Mao’s music but whenever she sings around an A natural (which is often) her vibrato loosens dangerously close to a wobble. I also couldn’t understand one damn word she sang.

The Opera Colorado Chorus tries their best but this is not a world-class ensemble and the choral music in this opera is not easy.

It’s not that this recording is completely awful. There are strengths.  Marin Aslop knows her way around American music, and her reading is taut and inspired. She moves the action along (as much as Adams’s music allows) and keeps excitement bubbling (again, as much as the music allows).

Pat and Dick are both interesting here. Maria Kanyova, as Pat, is the only singer who sings like this is opera. Her other roles include Butterfly and Violetta and it shows. The voice is fluid, beautiful and ballsy. She’s also the only singer that phrases beautifully. “This is prophetic” is easily the highlight of the recording. Kick-ass singing.

Robert Orth manages to be charismatic and idiomatic as Nixon while singing with grainy, unsupported tone. It’s a believable and truly interesting portrayal. It’s just hard to listen to.

All of this begs the question of Naxos- what was the point of this recording? Just Aslop and Kanyova? They’re great, but it’s not enough to warrant a $25 price tag. If I were you I’d say bump both recordings and watch the broadcast of the original production on Youtube for free. But hey, if you love a good arpeggiated chord and have money to burn then by all means, skip on over to Amazon and order yourself up a copy.

The classical recording industry has long feasted on the popularity of operatic solo records, especially during the last few years of industry-wide decline in CD sales. Incidentally, as record companies run out of ways to sell the standard repertoire to collectors who already own it five times, baroque and early opera are also selling well. 

The coloratura mezzo-soprano Cecilia Bartoli has managed to combine both of these formats in her newest CD release.  Sacrificium is her take on twelve major arias from the lost repertoire of the Castrato. The CD has been marketed high and low, using the tag line “The Sacrifice of Hundreds of Thousands of Boys in the Name of Music” and through a viral internet scavenger hunt that planted riddles on blog sites.

The packaging of the first release, a Deluxe 2-CD Limited Edition, includes an encyclopedic 200-page booklet exploring the Age of the Castrato, replete with gender-bending Photoshop experiments and 18^th century kitsch, as well as a bonus CD featuring three more arias including the Handel favorite “Ombra mai fu.”

Sacrificium is clever both in its concept and as a way of refashioning Ms. Bartoli’s appeal and repertoire. In recent years she has gravitated toward recordings and concert performances (as many superstar vocal artists do), and has taken on fewer operatic parts. In live appearances, she sticks close to home, and continues to sing the mezzo repertoire of Mozart and Handel with aplomb and agility.

On CD, rather than just milk well-known favorites, she has admirably introduced audiences to forgotten repertoire from Rossini and composers little-known today like Halevy and Viardot. The composers included in Sacrificium include such household names as Porpora, Leo, Araia, Graun, Caldara, and (not that) Leonardo Vinci.

While there is much to be learned about the castrato from the ornate accompanying booklet, Bartoli’s singing lends few insights to authenticity.  Liner notes tell us that the castrati were not necessarily preferable to female singers; rather, they were simply easier to train. Add, too, that a boy could be trained from youth while a girl must wait until after puberty to find her voice, and we get an idea of the very luxurious attitude toward the sacrifice in question.

Ms. Bartoli’s singing here is practically beside the point. Her style has always meant a certain breathy quality, quite in evidence here. This has alienated opera house purists, yet it may be precisely her appeal in the vaguely crossover market she has come to occupy.  As her voice has aged, it has also tended toward an undesirable cluckiness in the lower register.  Sacrificium displays these flaws, and some pitch imprecision in her coloratura, but the singing is emotive, committed, attractively colored and – dare I say – fierce.

Her partners in this exercise are the eminent and thoroughly Italianate period group Il Giardino Armonico, led by Giovanni Antonini. They carry the day, with a lean and sensitive accompaniment that is never afraid to burst forth with uncouth rustic fervor when called upon. The recorded sound is sumptuous and especially gratifying in its spacious bass response.

Unfortunately Vinci’s “Chi temea Giove regnante,” one of many world-premiere recordings on this disc, is marred by a thunderbolt sound effect which upon repetition grows tiresome and then offensive. If only Ms. Bartoli and her producers had sacrificed this cheap effect – in the name of music.

La Cieca is happy to welcome Our Own squirrel to the ranks of parterre.com contributors.

The Random Number Generator has spoken, and from the whopping 442 comments offered during the Turandot Chat, the randomly chosen winner of the Cecilia Bartoli Sacrificium CD is #185, as written by….. Our Own squirrel. Congratulations, to you, o little nut-hoarder, and La Cieca asks that you email her a shipping address where your CD may be sent.

“The death of Puccini’s Tosca was much exaggerated, in fact it did not take place.”

“After about 34 years of going to the opera, I don’t think I’ve ever left a performance more infuriated than I did after the performance today.”

“‘Vulgar’  ‘Totally out of place’  and ‘It had nothing whatever to do with the opera!’ were phrases which constituted a regular refrain.”

“I will say this, Mr. Gagnidze looked like one sexy bear in that opera.”

Complete reviews after the jump.

After hearing three radio broadcasts of the Luc Bondy Tosca from the Met, feeling very uncomfortable about Maestro Conaneri’s slow tempi, Mattila’s painfully hard work singing Tosca and a kind of lackluster impression made by Scarpia – and after reading all the negative reviews in the press and all over the web, I was quite prepared to have an unenjoyable experience at the Met’s HD moviecast of Tosca, as witnessed at the Lensic Performing Arts center in Santa Fe. I was wrong!

My commentary: the death of Puccini’s Tosca was much exaggerated, in fact it did not take place. The audience loved it, had a wonderful time and eight hundred people left the theatre having enjoyed themselves – substantially. To add the visual to the aural in this Tosca made all the difference. Suddenly, the slow tempi were ameliorated by action, and in every way imaginable the visual message supplemented what the ear may have found insufficient. Mattila still worked very hard, but her Grand-Guignol acting, stagey, old-fashioned and very energetic made her role effective — it worked in context, and was enjoyable. Her singing was still quirky, often short on top and there were occasional pitch problems, but over-all she was acceptable, and more.

I would say the Georgian baritone Scarpia looked and played his part well, and to my ear sounded well enough; for both these lead roles, seeing was believing, if always in the Grand Guignol spirit – caricature. Tenor Alvarez was superior, more to the ear than eye, but when the tenor sounds that good, who can complain? I have always taken Tosca as a kind of ‘comic strip opera;’ I mean, all is caricature and simplified over-statement. And so these characters seemed — Scarpia’s bugging eyes and all. What a lout, how evil! Of course!

The production? I was not offended. I may have felt a little short-changed here and there — but no complaints at all about Act I. Act II – the eccentric ending was not a ‘disaster’ or a ‘train-wreck,’ not at all. Yes, I missed the lack of responsiveness to what Puccini was telling us in the music here and there (seeing the knife on Scarpia’s dinner table the ‘placing the candle’ music), I thought the lines “Quanto? Il prezzo?” Were thrown away – to have Scarpia moving on Tosca’s lines as he did to touch her hair — ruined the moment, an important Tosca moment. But….. not really all that important.

Tosca looking out the window? – I didn’t mind, and It telegraphed what was to come. I did not find Bondy’s work anti-vocal or anti-Puccini, at least not in any important way. Act III? The only thing that did not work, the main mistake of the production was Tosca’s jump — it was a bad idea poorly executed. Sorry. To have Tosca and the audience break the line of sight, even for an instant, was to lose credibility and effect. Dramatic effect ended when she disappeared from view into the tower, and when the dummy appeared a split second later — we all knew it was a contrivance and not a successful one. It was the only really quite inept moment of the afternoon.

By the way, google will tell you that Grand-Guignol was a theatre in Paris that specialized in the horrible and grotesque – and the name Guignol literally means “the big puppet!” Bondy’s little joke? There were occasionally mild infelicities in stage direction – but minor.

And Colaneri is merely a routiner in the pit – nothing special in any way, and I still wish he’d tighten up those tempi, The three play-girls at Scarpia’s supper — well, I am indifferent — a bit of prurience maybe was achieved, but I was left with a slight feeling Bondy was just filling some time. One girl exposing her breast to the audience; ho hum. Seen it all before. Take it out, Luc, you dirty old man! It’s just trite, unnecessary.

Earlier in the week, I had taken a dozen green tomatoes to a friend who invited us for dinner. ‘What are these for,’ he asked. ‘To slice, bread and fry,’ I told him; ‘haven’t you ever heard of Fried Green Tomatoes?’ A few days later he emailed – ‘thanks for the green tomatoes, they were pretty good, not nearly as bad as expected.’ Tosca is my green tomato opera just now!  – MrMyster

I actually enjoyed the Tosca performance, but the ending left me absolutely furious. In fact, after about 34 years of going to the opera, I don’t think I’ve ever left a performance more infuriated than I did after the performance today.

The ending was an absolute joke. The taunting “come and get me” by Tosca, the slow motion, and the final “dummy” jump were nothing short of ridiculous. Bondy really should be tossed into the Tiber, and I would be more than happy to help throw him in. The bottom line is he brought nothing new or interesting to Tosca. His direction destroyed the momentum/drama/tension/excitement in both Act II and Act III. He completely ignored what was happening with the music, and offered an uninspired and tacky production.

I found the sets to be drab and dark. Act II was especially puzzling. What century were we supposed to be in?

Puccini and the singing saved the day. I though Alvarez was an outstanding Cavaradossi. His voice rang out, he was musical, I really enjoyed his singing… which say’s a lot coming from another Tenor!! He definitely took vocal honors today.

I also liked Gagnidze (even though at times he reminded me on John Belushi as the Samurai in the Saturday Night Live skits). He was menacing and sang well. I prefer a darker timbre to the voice, but think he was a good Scarpia.

Mattila was definitely challenged as Tosca. For me, her voice lacks the warmth and color required for a great Tosca. I thought she tried very hard, struggled vocally most of the afternoon, but in the end pulled it off as best she could. I really think she needs to retire Puccini from her repertoire.

In spite of Bondy’s production, Puccini’s music and the singing made it an enjoyable afternoon. -BF

I attended yesterday’s screening of Tosca at the Regal CInema in Portland, Oregon.  I attend each and every one of the Met HD transmissions on behalf of of Portland Opera.  I Have a table there, press the flesh and talk to the audience before the show about what they are going to see.  I say this by way of introduction because what flows from my regular attendance there is that I see the same folks each and every time; by now we kinda know each other and are on a chatty basis.  This made it very easy for me to talk to them before the show and to ask them to come speak with me during the intermissions about what they were seeing.  These few lines will concentrate on what they thought of this show rather than what I thought.

I do not imagine the demographic is very different here from any other movie theater showing these transmissions: definitely an older crowd.  Average age – mid sixties I would guess.  The theater was solid full.  I believe it seats around 500 people.

Before the show I asked many of the patrons whether they were aware that there had been a good deal of press about this production after its opening night last week.  Very few of them knew about the booing at the Met or any of the stuff that has dominated our chat this last ten days or so.  I think these people must have some kind of life outside opera.  Strange, but true.

The first 30 minutes of the show were plagued with sound and other transmission difficulties, including a 15 minute blackout due, we were told, to sun spots.  I expect you all had this same experience.  The audience here was somewhat mollified when the theater manager distributed free movie passes to anybody who wanted one.  It was clear from what people told me at intermission that these technical difficulties were not their chief grumble.

They disliked – no, hated! – the painting.  “Vulgar”  “Totally out of place” and “It had nothing whatever to do with the opera!” were phrases which constituted a regular refrain.  These were not the whinings of old fogeys who are upset by nudity (though I am sure there was some of that, as we saw later) but rational complaints by people who know this opera very well.  They thought the painting too modern in style and wholly out of place in a church.

Also, as someone commented “Tosca spends half of Act 1 complaining that Cavaradossi has painted Attavanti – with blue eyes, rather than Tosca-shades of brown.  If she had been seeing the same painting I was looking at I think she might also have mentioned that he painted her with her tits hanging out and just where did he see those?”  Other complaints centered on the rest of the Act 1 set – a Catholic church without candles, crucifixes, stations of the cross, icons etc. etc.

Act 2 opened as we know with Scarpia being serviced by three hookers.  When the camera cut to the one who was imitating the painting from Act 1 there were loud, audible gasps from the throng.  The rest of the act passed without incident.  During the second intermission about a dozen people responded to my request to come and talk to me.   Without exception they said they thought Scarpia was the best they had ever seen, thought the whores fitted in perfectly with his expressed view that sex is better when forced (for them, ‘bought’ = ‘forced’ I think.  Taking a woman you have paid for sex is a power trip as opposed to an act of affection .)

They also had no trouble in understanding Tosca’s actions after the murder – including going onto the window ledge – though they didn’t like the fanning business much.  Too studied, one of them remarked to me.  Not a single one complained about the absence of the usual stage business involving candles and a crucifix.  They all thought the build up of tension throughout Act 2 was done very well and one of them described Scarpia’s murder as a “great catharsis”.  One person did remark “This is an ugly Tosca.” Someone else standing close by retorted “It’s an ugly story!”

Act 3 was well received and the final jump was a huge hit!

There was much more talk of the production than the singing and acting but they seemed to like all the principal characters.

Not a boo to be heard in Portland, that’s for sure. – SL

I have waited several of hours to write my review out of necessity but also so I could let my impression of Bondy’s Tosca settle in.

For the most part I thought the set was effective. It was as gargantuan as Zeffirelli’s, but that is a necessity born out of the size of the space rather than the designer. Zeffirelli filled the space with almost obsessive-compulsive attention to detail. Bondy went in the other direction, and given the amount of detail that went into the action, I see it as a virtue rather than the opposite.  Overall I thought the space at the Met was well used. I did have a problem with the cheap looking IKEA-inspired (and probably bought) furniture. I am not a fan of seeing contemporary furniture in a period piece.  In my opinion, it detracts from the overall impression, but I have a feeling I am in the minority on this point.

When I see stagings that are obviously period and I see contemporary furniture I do not think edgy, fascinating, not even provocative. My first reaction is to think they ran out of money and asked the board of directors for pieces they could use on the décor, or maybe that they spent as little as possible on them so they could splurge on the artists; I even think that the director did a poor job on his research and obviously cannot tell the difference.

Of all the visual aspects of the production, I think the costuming is definitely the stronger point. While the costumes are not ultra faithful to the period (in as much as only fabrics, textures and patterns that existed or were used at the time), they were evocative enough to make them believable. The one thing that I found uninspiring about them was the now cliché appearance of a leather trench coat. It seems that these days we cannot do a period piece without someone walking in a leather (or pleather) trench coat. Fortunately, it showed up in Scarpia’s wardrobe, the one character that would be expected to wear something like that. If this had been someone else who wanted to be “provocative”, Scarpia would have showed up wearing chiffon and Tosca the pleather jacket. Thank God it was not the case.

Mattila’s dresses were exquisite in the simplicity and beauty of the design. Let’s be fair, she is one hot cougar and those dresses made her look amazing. Scarpia looked menacing, even Spoletta could make it to the list of 20 best dressed in Rome. The Cardinal robes, while not accurate were evocative and sumptuous; even the nuns’ costumes were exquisite. My only question is, why can’t Tosca show up in a royal blue, green or orange costume? Seems like every Tosca these days shows up in a red or black costume; why not take a chance, since the costumes were not strictly period but period-inspired?

I thought the singing today was rather good if not inspiring. Mattila attacked the role more than she sang it. Compared to the broadcast, I thought she was vocally stronger and the role is setting in what the voice is at the moment.  She is an intelligent artist and she gave it her all. The high C’s were all there for the most part and she was able to vocalize them, not without effort and strain. “Vissi d’arte” was not a show stopper, we could see that she tried to integrate it to the story (a feat that even Puccini doubted could be done), but it failed to make a strong vocal impression. I think the problem is that she wanted to “act” the aria instead of singing it. By adding the moan after the Bb she was obviously trying to take the aria beyond the realm of vocalism, she should be commended for that; but I do not believe it was necessary. I believe that Puccini crafted the aria in such a way that no external additions need to be added for it to make an impact.

Let’s be honest, one of the reasons why he doubted the aria could be brought into the action was because it is an incredibly beautiful moment in the middle of chaos. I think that sopranos are more than capable of supporting the moment by purely vocal means, if they trust what Puccini wrote and BRING the people into the drama rather than the drama to the people. I believe Mattila fell into the trap of wanting to bring the drama out to the audience and she was only partially successful.

Marcello Alvarez, bless his soul, tried hard to convince the world he is a Puccini tenor (a point that Susan Graham also tried to make while interviewing him on the 2nd intermission). The problem is that to sing Mario successfully, you have to have a strong upper register (which he has) AND a strong middle/bottom registers (which he does not). So what we were left with was a series of gloriously produced high notes with awkwardly produced crooning in the passagio (and some truly inspired piano singing at moments, which is, I guess, what he was going for). Mixed that with the weak middle and weak bottom and we have a series of unrealized promises. Both arias proved to be rather underwhelming moments in the action for very different reasons.

While I can understand “Recondita armonia” to be a bit shaky because it is the first thing Mario sings, the aria sits high enough for a tenor with Mr. Alvarez’s strength in the upper register to make something of it. Instead it was routinely vocalized, poorly phrased and the high note punched like a baseball (a homerun, mind you). “E lucevan le stelle,” which again sits high, comes at a time when you are getting tired. This time, Mr. Alvarez went for crooning instead of true piano. Once again, his phrasing was not elegant or inspired (if you want to hear how those phrases should go, listen to the strings in the accompaniment, they are doubling the tenor) and his high note was something more akin to a home run than a man who is remembering the last time he made love to the love of his life.

The one area where I thought Mr. Alvarez was very successful was in the little moments that many tenors brush over because they are not high impact like the arias or the Vittoria’s. The way he colored the voice when Tosca told him she was coming over tonight was masterful; the same should be said for the way he made fun of her trying to teach him how to die. Mr. Alvarez is obviously an intelligent artist, and I am sure in the right house he would be a fantastic Cavaradossi; I am not sure the Met is the right house for him to essay this role. It showcased his weaknesses more than his strengths.

George Gagnidze’s Scarpia was saved by the bell. He is obviously not fully recovered from whatever forced him to stop singing half way through a performance a week or two ago. It was clear that he was running out of vocal resources towards the end of act 2; but since he was about to die, he soldiered on and finished strong. Vocally, the role suits his singing and the color of the voice. I could hear some signs of strain, but given the fact that I knew he had been sick, I am not sure whether he was still fighting his sickness or those were signs of a voice singing a role one size too big for it. I will say this, Mr. Gagnidze looked like one sexy bear in that opera. His is not the classically beautiful 6-pack trotting Scarpia alla David Pittsinger (a wonderful Angelotti), not the who-is-Cavaradossi? sexy villain alla Milnes, nor the aged pervert alla MacNeil.

George Gagnidze’s Scarpia was his own and he imparted it with his own brand of sexy and damn it, it worked.  I for one would have loved to turn the tables on that Scarpia and give him a taste of his own medicine; I bet that Scarpia would have just as good a time getting a spanking as giving it. (Did I just say that, in public???!!!)

As I said, Davis Pittsinger is as far as I am concerned luxury casting as Angelotti. His Angelotti was beautifully vocalized and acted. So was Paul Plishka’s sacristan. It was good to hear this artist in a role that he recorded decades ago, singing it rather well, and shorn of all the buffo affectations that seem to be afflicted on the role. Joel Sorensen’s Spoletta was also well sung and acted (and he looked positively delicious on that costume). The one complain that I have is his not taking appogiaturas in some places and not committing to the “Gessu!” when Scarpia scares him. For the most part I thought he did quite a good job.

I think all involved in the production should be given kudos for the acting, but then, why are we talking about this like it is the first time we see singers acting? Make no mistake; the acting was wonderful and committed. Mr. Alvarez was for the most part believable as a lover (and his costume was quite successful hiding the fact that he is, shall we say, also a bear; not that there’s anything wrong with that, right Mr. Gagnidze?).  George Gagnidze’s Scarpia was truly menacing, scary at times, and you believed that he was the “bigoto satiro” Cavaradossi describes.

Mattila was also successful, for the most part in creating a character. Of all the singers on stage, I think she was the least successful in creating a three dimensional character. We could see all the hysteria in her Tosca, but what about her girlishness? Now, this didn’t stop her from talking about her acting; which leads perfectly into my next point:  I don’t buy is this going on and on about the whole singing actress bit. These days, Karita Mattila is sounding more and more like Dessay. No, not in vocal terms, but in the whole “look at me, I’m acting!!!” thing that seems to be infecting just about any diva of a certain age.

I have news for Ms. Mattila: not new; not unheard of; not provocative; not even rare. Ms. Mattila (and Ms. Dessay), I have a little list for you to examine: Renata Scotto, Maria Callas, Beverly Sills, Astrid Varnay, Martha Mödl, Grace Bumbry, Eva Marton, Magda Olivero, Teresa Stratas,  shall I continue? These artists were all wonderful actresses, some would be considered stage animals and they were all wonderful singers AT THE SAME TIME. We have all seen singers who can act well, it is not a rare occurrence so stop tooting your horn like you are the first ones and get to the business of singing AND acting. If you want to act, then ask your managers to get you auditions in Hollywood and Broadway.  Every time you go on and on about how committed your acting is, we want to say “now, is your singing that committed too?”

And now onto the staging we go. From the day of the opening night broadcast I have been saying that I didn’t think the boos were completely deserved. Today I cemented my initial perception. Now, I know for a fact that some of the staging was toned down and changed, but I have no issue with that, since I understand that for a repertory house like the Met, these productions are works in progress even after the prima. Hell, Bayreuth insists on stage directors to come tweak their productions after the initial run of performances, why should the Met not tweak the production 3 weeks after it opened?

I also stated that Bondy was put in a miserable position of not pleasing anyone and that necessity dictated a cop-out. I am still going to hold my position on that one too. It was obvious to me, by the almost apologetic and scared tone the Met used when announcing they were replacing the Zefirelli production that there was going to be 2 factions on this Tosca and they are both best described by the same phrase: the “How dare you!’s”.

On one side we had the How-dare-you-replace-the-Zefirelli-production-that-is-so-beautiful-and-served-us-so-well-for-this-many-years-and-if-it’s-not-broke-don’t-fix-it faction. On the other side there was the How-dare-you-not-give-us-a-reggie-production-like-the-ones-in-Europe-‘cause-they-have-been-doing-this-for-decades-and-we-want-something-provocative faction. I think the Met tried to please both sides and in the game got a little lost.

On one side we have what is mostly a traditional production with some modernistic touches; on the other we have some staging decisions that were clearly made in the spirit of pushing the envelope. Overall, I don’t think they completely succeeded on both attempts and we were left with something of a mix in the middle. Provocative enough on some sides, traditional enough on the other. Not vanilla, but not kink either.

To be fair, I think the staging was quite well done. Bondy took opportunities in presenting the characters in ways that we have not seen them in past stagings, some were successful, some not and some were left unfinished. I loved the way Mario and Tosca related to each other. Too often we see couples loving each other from opposite sides of the stage; not here. The love duet was staged like what (I believe) it is: a slice of domestic life for the lovers. We see them kissing, touching, but also pushing each other’s buttons until one of them explodes; they have a spat and make up just to rehash the spat and make up for good and then (likely) some make-up sex latter.

I loved the way Mario ungloved Tosca’s hands as he was singing o dolci mani. I just wished he would have taken the time to kiss them and caress them while she sang her responses. This beautiful touch was for me left unfinished, but it was full of tenderness (specific tenderness) while it lasted; beautiful. I loved that Bondy found some light moments right before the ending; like the way Mario teases Tosca about how she dies on stage and Tosca doing a full demonstration. It made their love more believable and their deaths all the more tragic.

I also liked the realistic way Scarpia was murdered. I am not sure I would have chosen to show such violence (we have enough of that on TV these days) but I did not disagree with it either. It was true to life and it was powerful. I liked the way Tosca prepped herself to do him in. This Tosca was no fool and she was ready to stab that mother fucker the moment he came within striking distance.

On the other hand, why the hell would you have Tosca mess with the knife while she is singing “Vissi d’arte?” I do not believe that you must follow the musical cues Puccini wrote, but they are there for a reason. Tosca does not have to find the knife on the chord, how about picking it up? Having Tosca messing with the knife during the aria was too much too soon and it cheapened the aria.

I also did not miss the candles moment. I would have preferred to see Tosca saying a prayer over Scarpia’s dead body instead of contemplating suicide, but in the state of hysteria that Mattila’s Tosca was, I can see how she would. I though the final tableau of Tosca fanning herself was genius.  I can see this Tosca trying to compose herself before she got out of the office so no suspicions could arise. After all, if she got out of the room too soon, it would have clued Scarpia’s henchmen that something was not adding up, given how much Scarpia likes torture and rape, he was bound to take his sweet old time with this one, and likely have seconds before letting her go.  I thought this moment was brilliant; provocative; new (at least to me). Loved it…

On the other hand, I am not so convinced with the whores that accompany Scarpia at the beginning of act 2. Scarpia himself says he gets his kicks out of raping women (I believe that even some men have seen Scarpia’s raping tool). Why would he have 3 whores about 30 minutes before he was (as he planned) to rape the one woman he desired the most? Even further, why would he have 3 whores at all? As the saying goes, you can’t rape the willing; and in Scarpia’s case it fits like a glove (one more for the road). If Scarpia prefers raping, why would he have a willing partner? Yes, he could have a raping scene with the whores, but ultimately it would be acting and I believe he would lose interest after a while because it is not the real thing.

In this, I could see how Bondy was trying to push the envelope, but I think he chose the wrong moment to do it. Same as when Scarpia kissed the Madonna. Mario himself states that Scarpia has cultivated a pious affectation. That means that when it comes to Scarpia, we get inside behavior and outside behavior; and they do not mix. Why would Scarpia, who wants everyone to believe he is so pious, deface the statue of the Virgin? He knows that he might be the chief of police, but in Rome there is someone who can have his ass at any time he wants: the pope. Historically, no, as the pope was not in Rome at this point, but this does not diminish the power of the church; and Scarpia needs the church so he can continue raping with no consequences.  I think that this is another point in which Bondy wanted to push the envelope, but failed to recognize that the character has more reasons to behave in the opposite way than he wants to portray.

I loved the whole soldiers bit and how they went about their morning routines and got prepared for their duties. I think this made the staging specific, it made it look real, life like; and I loved that. The jump, on the other hand, was a letdown. I could see that Bondy wanted his audience to have a quasi cinematographic moment. To experience it like we would had we been at a movie: slo-mo;  I’m not sure it worked. First, slo-mo on the stage is hard to do; second the jump happened so fast if you blinked you missed. I think this is one of those moments that I wished Mattila had taken a page from Tebaldi’s book and jumped while letting a blood-curling scream. I think it would have been a lot more effective than what we got. It truly was a letdown.

Overall, I think we got a winner here, with some Good ideas, some unrealized and some bad ones too, but no staging is perfect. I think as the production matures it will find a spot in the hearts of those who see it and they will find it effective and beautiful. I know I did. – Lindoro Almaviva

[UPDATE: Lots of volunteers for the HD, thanks! La Cieca still wants to hear from Rosenkavalier attendees and would like to hear suggestions for more events (not just here in NY) that need coverage.]

Our Own JJ (not pictured) nominates the can’t-miss operatic and vocal events of the autumn of 2009. [NYP]

Not the Greatest of E’s

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

La Cieca has to admit that what she thought would be a bang-up notion turned out to be a total damp squib: the “Letter” competition failed to rouse much interest. The sole (albeit very fine) entry follows the jump.

This video was sent by Our Own Lindoro Almaviva, and he can expect to be the recipient of an amazon.com gift card in due course.

So, while we’re on the subject, cher public, let’s hear from you. What sort of competitions do you like, or (more to the point) what sort of competitions are you up for competing in? All suggestions are welcome!

“Il trovatore was premièred in January 1853 and Traviata a couple of months later in March. The wonderful duet at the end of La traviata Act I brings to mind clearly the ‘Miserere’ from Act IV Il trovatore, and when Alfredo sings ‘Dei miei bollenti spiriti’ there is something of ‘Di quella pira’ about it [a]nd the following scene between Violetta and Alfredo’s father, Giorgio Germont, uses some of the ‘haunting’ music from Trovatore’s Scene 1.”

Then again, this critic finds Renée Fleming‘s Violetta reminiscent of Vivien Leigh as Scarlett O’Hara.  Thus we find ourselves faced with a crucial question: might an American girl’s attempt at Verdi’s consumptive courtesan eclipse ‘Jo’ Barstow‘s definitive portrayal?  [MusicWeb International]

James, whose name Ms. Howells cleverly veils as “Clyde” in her memoir, supposedly “invited her to his Docklands flat and, after they had shared a couple of bottles of wine, he peered across the table at her and said: ‘Be my mistress’.”

Howells responded: “All right, I’ll give it a go.”

La Cieca has obtained the following exclusive surveillance video of the pair’s first furtive meeting:

Stephen’s plot synopsis read:

There was a young lady called Fricka Who…who…*snore* “Wake up – it’s over.” It’s good, I just wish it were quicka.

La Cieca is particularly impressed with Stephen’s brevity: in fact, at under 140 characters, his synopsis of the Ring is even shorter that Our Own JJ‘s review.

“Instead of pondering moral issues, the audience marvels that styrofoam can be made to look so much like granite.”  Our Own JJ reviews the Met’s Ring in the New York Post.

For the convenience of the cher public, La Cieca will point out that the Post has a section for comments following the review.

There were touches of “St . Louis West,” with Leonard Slatkin and Stephen Lord, announced as conductors, and Kelly Kaduce as Cio-Cio San, and St. Louis regular Sig. Jovanovich as Ben Pinkerton, as the zippy opera of the high desert called in its nearest and dearest to hear  word of season 2010.  For Stephen Lord’s Offenbach, the Michael Kaye edition will be employed, in French, and Paul Groves is advanced for the title role, Erin Wall to sing the three sopranos, and Gidon Saks the bad guys. C. Alden will sing the direction while Constance Hoffman (no relation) warbles the costumes.   Surprise!  They are reviving The Magic Flute; oh well, the guys have to sell tickets. C.  Castronovo and E. Siruina will essay Tamino and Pamina. TBA will be Queen of the Night.

Who has heard of Lewis Spratlan? In the mid-1970s he was hired by New Haven opera to set the 17th C Spanish play, La vida es sueno by Pedro Calderon de la Barca – “a dark and powerful meditation upon the nature of humanity and reality,” Santa Fe avers.  It’s never been fully produced, the New Haven company having gone out of business long since, though the second act was performed at Amherst (where Spratlan served for years as music professor), and Yale in 2000, and that year it won a Pulitzer Prize (!)  Slatkin will conduct, Kevin Newbury will direct and John Cheek and Roger Honeywell will sing. Anyone know Spratlan’s music?  Comments?

Finally, a premium ensemble cast conducted by Sir Andrew Davis and directed by resourceful Paul Curran will produce Ben Britten’s adorable and disturbing Albert Herring.  What good news!  And if you think Lady Christine Brewer would be an ideal Lady Billows, well she will! And Opera News ‘centerfold’ tenor Alek Shrader will be Albert (I thought it would be Toby Spence, but I was wrong), and other names to reckon with are: Celena Shafer, Jill Groves, Kate Lindsey, Judy Christin, Anthony Laciura, Joshua Hopkins, Wayne Tigges and Dale Travis.  How’s that for a double handful of good singing actors! Shafer as Miss Wordsworth should be so fine! Jill Groves as Florence Pike, yay!  Is Josh Hopkins cute enough to be Sid? Youbetcha!

And that’s all, folks!

Click to embiggen

Now, it’s one thing that Anna Netrebko is Photoshopped in from a different day, a different location and what may well be a different universe from our own, and don’t ask La Cieca why Mariusz Kwiecien is simultaneously checking his fly and treading on the train of Maija Kovalevska‘s gown. (No wonder she look so pissed!)

But just when you think it’s not humanly possible for Nathan Gunn to take a gayer photograph, the barihunk confounds us yet once more, with a pose that falls on the butch scale somewhere between Madame Recamier and April Stevens.

Or maybe Mr. Gunn can just throw in the towel and start programming “Teach Me Tiger” as an encore at his recitals.

Yes, La Cieca realizes it was all hashed out a week ago here in the blogosphere, but Daniel J. Wakin of the New York Times has finally got around to transcribing the New York City Opera’s press release about its new season. As you all know, the season opener will be Esther, starring Lauren Flanigan. This work runs November 7 through 19, followed by Don Giovanni a la Christopher Alden on November 8 through 22.

With the spring emerge L’etoile (March 18 through April 1), 10 (!) performances of Madama Butterfly, and the season closer, Partenope (April 3 through 17).  A few minutes of delving reveals a complete press release at the NYCO’s website.

In other more current news, Our Own JJ reviews the Met’s revival of L’elisir d’amore in The New York Post.