The premiere of Mary Zimmerman’s production of Giacomo Gioachino Rossini’s Armida was arguably the most controversial event of the Metropolitan Opera’s 2009-2010 season. The performances represented Armida’s first run at the Metropolitan Opera and had been commissioned at the behest of mega-diva Renée Fleming.

The soprano had scored a triumph in concert presentations of the bel canto showpiece in the mid-1990s and her return to the role had everything to tickle an opera queen’s fancy: a new  Zimmerman production not long after the Sonnambula fiasco plus the return of a divisive and aging diva to the bel canto rep in which she had given a series of controversial performances. Oh, and Lawrence Brownlee was there too! 

The critical reaction to the stage production, for all involved but Brownlee it seemed, was lukewarm at best and pure debacle at worst.  Nonetheless the production was slated for an HD movie broadcast and to be preserved for posterity on DVD. Interestingly though, the HD broadcast earned a plurality of raves from a variety of news outlets around the country.  Is there something about Zimmerman’s quirky production that is more successful on screen than in the house? In light of the reportedly dismal revival of last year’s Armida currently playing at Lincoln Center, perhaps now is as good a time as any to review the DVD of one of the most talked about and boo’d about productions of last year’s season.

For my part, before sitting down yesterday to watch the entire DVD I had only seen bits and pieces of the production. I hadn’t listened to any of the broadcasts or gone to the movies to see the HD. But for a shameless crush on Brownlee and mild cynicism surrounding Fleming, I entered the proceedings with as little bias about the central players as seems possible at this stage of their various careers.

My overall impression?  This production is troubled, if for no other reason than no one involved seems to know exactly what kind of opera Armida is supposed to be. Slapstick comedy? Romantic drama? One Crusader’s acid trip?  It’s all a bit muddled and that may in part be due to the quality of the source material itself.

Still, let’s start with something positive. DVD seems to have been kind to certain aspects of Zimmerman’s production. Namely, the camera does an excellent job of capturing the truly magical technology of the Met stage as it transitions from military encampment to enchanted forest to palace board room and finally to hellish orgyland.

Zimmerman’s production effectively conveys the way the hyper-feminine landscape of Armida’s enchanted body and domain deprives these female-starved soldiers of their grip on reality, time and space.  Like the Taymor Magic Flute, this Armida is intended to remind the viewer of a pleasant sophomore year mushroom trip and, at times, this one did. If the movements of the sets were loud, obtrusive and slow in the theater, those distractions have been eliminated in the DVD.

That said, I’m not sure how any production can get around the fact that despite sublime music, this opera is a bit of a stinker.  While this isn’t one of Rossini’s comedies, the story and plot are ridiculous.  Based upon the translated libretto used for the DVD, the following feels like a fair synopsis of the plot:

Armida, a mystical sorceress is organizing a little power grab against a nearby kingdom and goes through an elaborate mystical ruse to secure the military might of some nearby Crusaders. Armida then spends the next two acts caring not a whit about her plot and instead seduces Rinaldo, the weakest-willed hero I’ve seen in a while. Once our soldier breaks free from the enchantress’ whips and chains, Armida begs for his return and once rebuffed sings angrily about his betrayal to her minions. The end. Huh? Exactly.

Maybe back in the 19th century audiences hungered for retreads of the Circe/Siren/[insert mystical temptress here] storyline.  But in a post Fatal Attraction world is there anything more we can learn from stories which intimate that powerful successful women want nothing more than to emasculate and sexually enslave men?  I don’t think so and apparently neither does Zimmerman, because rather than mine the admittedly well-worn depths of the themes of the piece, she chooses to go over the top. But to what end? Are some of the insane things that happen meant for laughs? Is irony at play here? Sarcasm?

I also wondered whether Zimmerman had just assumed that no one in the audience had ever seen The Cell, a fantastical mid-90s J. Lo vehicle from which Zimmerman lifts a number of images wholesale.  The most obvious example being the demon representing hate or vengeance who stalks and envelopes resident player hater Gernando as played by José Manuel Zepata.  Either way, arbitrariness seems to rule the day and I often could do nothing but shake my head and roll my eyes in simultaneous delight at the campiness and disbelief at the foolishness on display. For example, here are three relatively unedited reactions I had to some over the top moments while taking notes during my viewing.

Jennifer Lopez and Vincent D'Onofrio in "The Cell"

-Act I: Rinaldo and Gernando trade barbs and throw down. For some reason Zimmerman has Rinaldo and Gernando engage in a Matrix-style slow-mo sword fight. Except it’s not the Matrix, we’re live on a stage and therefore this is ridiculous. Kudos to Zapata and Brownlee for keeping a straight face.

Act II, Scene 1:  We’ve inexplicably  stumbled into a production of “Jellicle Cats Go Where the Wild Things Are.” Though I suppose it must be nice for Lloyd Webber to have an opera steal blatantly from him for a change.  This scene is doubly disturbing due to far too many crotch close-ups, a phrase I never thought I would type.

Act III, scene 1:  Renée and LB walk out from their boudoir (one assumes) and oh my God, the costume designer has stuck Fleming in a full length fuschia monstrosity. My corneas are filing a class action law suit.  This dress definitely makes the question of whether Rinaldo will leave Armida to return to the “arms” of his compatriots less suspenseful.

And so on and so forth.   If there’s anything serious to be learned from Armida, its not to be learned from this production. And perhaps that is the best compliment we can pay Zimmerman. She seems to recognize the inconsistencies of the source material and embraces them, for better or for worse.

As for the performances, well what more can be said about Fleming’s performance as Armida that has not already been said?  Lots! I think she sang beautifully. I’m not familiar enough with the score to know if she did some horrible violence to the music. Plus I think that a few swallowed high notes here and a little sloppy fioritura there is acceptable for a singer of her age.

The voice retains its beautiful luster and while her willingness to “pace herself” (her words) might have been frustrating in the house, on DVD I rarely got the feeling I was only getting half a vocal performance.   Indeed, there were moments when I felt some of her mannerisms, particularly the crooning, made sense for the character. Throughout Act II when her spell over Rinaldo is at its peak Armida is quite pleased with herself, and Fleming pulled that off vocally and dramatically.

Nonetheless, it was also clear that Fleming lacked commitment to any kind of characterization.  In her defense, Armida is no Violetta.  It’s never quite clear what she actually wants other than power and maybe a roll in the hay or two.  But shouldn’t that mean Armida should be fun and sexually alluring?  For example, Armida is a sorceress who does her fair share of spell casting throughout the opera. But Fleming seems almost embarrassed to be waving a wand around. I kept thinking: “W.W.A.M.D.?” (What Would Agnes Moorehead Do)?

La Moorehead was reportedly regularly derisive of the silly business she was forced to participate in on the set of Bewitched, but like a true pro she always gave total commitment, particularly when striking a pose while reciting those various rhyming spells that bedeviled poor Darren each week. She somehow convinced all of us that magical energies (and a wind machine) beckoned to her call.  I felt like Fleming needed to spend a weekend learning how to hit her mark and vogue like Endora did (and, seriously, go back and watch those episodes, Moorehead was a serious voguer) and allow the stage magic around her to work with her, not against her.

But if this Armida was only marginally fun, she was even less sexy. Svelte and in glorious voice, Brownlee did his darndest to suggest that the two lovers might have copulated at some point, yet Fleming seemed to barely notice Rinaldo was there half the time. A charitable reading of their one sided chemistry is that Armida is not actually in love with Rinaldo, her seduction of him is purely political.  But I think that her rage in Act III suggests that not only had she started to like it, she’d considered putting a ring on it. And if so, Fleming could at least have attempted to fake some passion in their embraces.

The gulf between Brownlee and Fleming’s commitment to the sexiness of it all was particularly large at the end of her Act II showpiece “D’amore al dolce impero.”  As Armida sings, her little emissary of love shoots Rinaldo in the heart with some kind of passion/sex spell arrow.  Brownlee goes all the way in his reaction, writhing on the floor with a series of too-sexy undulations and “O” faces. Frankly, I blushed and had to check myself.  Hilariously, Fleming looks down at Brownlee with total incomprehension on her face and looks supremely uncomfortable as she lies down next to him. These are small moments, but on a DVD they became magnified.

Much has been made of the fact that Armida features six, count them, six Rossini tenors. Yet the only three that left any lasting impression on me were John Osborn as Goffredo,  Zapata as Gernando  and Brownlee as Rinaldo.  (Barry Banks and Zapata looked and sounded so similar I had to double check three times that the same tenor had not sung Gernando and Carlo).  Osborn I thought had a particularly virile sound throughout Act I and may have made a strong Rinaldo himself considering how low lying the role is set.  Zapata has that metallic, kazoo-like timbre I associate with Rockwell Blake, but without nearly the technique or endless breath Blake has at his disposal. Worse, someone allowed him to go onstage with Meat Loaf hair.

Brownlee, in what truly is a thankless role, deserves the kudos he’s received for his performance. Does any other tenor throw in interpolated high C’s and D’s with the ease and brilliance of this man? That said, as I indicated above, Rinaldo may be a tad low for him, there were times he seemed to be pushing his lower register. I also wonder whether the dark colors in his voice are natural or manipulated. Either way his ascension from those sweet, earthy middle notes to brilliant, sunny high notes never ceases to amaze.

The Metropolitan Opera Chorus and Ballet sang and danced beautifully considering the circumstances (including a seemingly interminable ballet at the end of Act II, give it a miss). The orchestra played at its usual high level under the baton of Riccardo Frizza.

Will I put Armida in the DVD player again? Probably. There’s a lot to chuckle at and there’s enough excellent singing by Fleming and Brownlee to justify putting the DVD on as Saturday afternoon house cleaning background music.  But sitting through the staged production again would be a chore. Zimmerman’s reliance upon the color palette of a small town confectionary made me think that the production is a bit of a cotton candy affair: tasty only in small doses, maybe once a year and never quite as good as it looks when you start.