Time to say hello?
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In the words of dear Alex Ross, "I'm no Zapruder," but La Cieca does note certain subtleties:
Now, what, if anything, does all this mean? Well, the first two changes would seem to suggest that someone decided to try to avoid "killing" Alagna's applause after his aria. The quiet ending, plus the presence of another character moving onstage) would tend to put a damper on audience reaction. La Cieca's guess is that Alagna was not happy with the polite applause at the prima and so tried to (as one might say) "give the public a chance to express their admiration." The video thus gives impression that Alagna was going a little mild milking of the applause. The well-timed "bravo" might be an attempt by a fan to build the ovation. Now, going further out into the realm of speculation, perhaps the ensuing "boo" was a scornful reaction to the "bravo" rather than a jeer at Alagna's performance per se.
Here's where it gets particularly interesting, at least to La Cieca's fevered imagination. A feature of these La Scala shouting matches is that the exclamations used are both wildly inflammatory and dangerously ambiguous. We are told that shouts were heard of "Vergogna, vergogna!" and "Questa e la Scala!" But to whom were these cries addressed, and in reaction to what? Were they saying, "shame, shame" to Alagna because his singing (in their opinion) was below La Scala standard? Or was the "shameful" part his perceived disrespect (or cowardice?) in walking offstage just because of a mixed reaction from the public. ("This is La Scala, get used to it!")
Or maybe the yelling was mostly, as we might say, intramural; i.e., various members of the audience yelling at each other, in which case Alagna's walk was really a gross overreaction.
But, speaking of the "walk" issue, I think this video takes some of the heat off Riccardo Chailly. When he starts the Amneris music, Alagna is still onstage. All Chailly can see at that moment is that the tenor is not doing the staging he was taught, which is not exactly unprecedented in Italian opera. For all Chailly could see, it may have appeared that Alagna was just stepping into the wings for a moment to clear his throat or grab a gulp of water -- again, these things do happen.
Had Antonello Palombi not bounded on from the wings, presumably Chailly would have stopped the orchestra, the curtain would have been lowered, and the performance would have continued with Walter Fraccaro, perhaps following a brief announcement. Where La Cieca is going with this is that it doesn't look like Chailly was necessarily conspiring against Alagna along with the three mysterious karate men, the anonymous phone caller and all the other members of the anti-Alagna faction.
Meanwhile, the latest installment of
Opera Chic whispers that Stéphane Lissner has given orders to the Scala staff: if Alagna attempts to enter the theater, call the police! In contrast to such hysteria, Riccardo Muti spoke to La Stampa Daily, turning aside questions about Alagna's behavior but sniping at the "moronic" stage production by Franco Zeffirelli.Labels: blind, first emperor
People who love Aprile Millo really love Ms. Millo, and so interspersed among the nearly capacity crowd dressed in their finery as the National Italian American Foundation honored the soprano were the occasional young man or pair of young men tastefully outfitted in smart jeans and strategically placed around the hall for maximum claque impact. Whenever their girl appeared, there were noticeable exclamations of pure joy.
. . . .
As for Ms. Millo, she dismissed the printed program as irrelevant and offered an entirely different couple of selections . . . . But the undoubted takeaway memory was her knockout version of the "Suicidio" from the Orfano Canal act of Amilcare Ponchielli's "La Gioconda," which she is currently singing at the Met. This is properly classified as a dramatic soliloquy, and never have I heard it sung quite this dramatically. Ms. Millo, in addition to possessing all of the requisite vocal tools, has a highly developed sense of acting. Her little pauses and flashes of the eyes were mesmerizing. This was one of those rare performances at which I heard a loud exhalation of breath at its conclusion, and realized it was mine.
Interestingly, La Fleming had arranged to be basked in the glow of a peachy, pinkish spotlight. Hartmut Höll instead was replete in the flat, sterile, blue/white light, which by default, is implemented for every other normal recital. I mean, homegirl looked good, but it was like Liz Taylor and her vaseline filters.La Cieca feels like she was there, I tell you, and wait until you read the breathless paragraphs detailing The Frock (by Gianfranco Ferré, of course.)
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asked what was the status of its repair, and was basically told that they are of course aware of it, but it’s just too expensive, requires shutting down the hall for a period of weeks while the repairs are happening, and that the artisans who do this work well are few and far between and in Europe, so ... don’t expect it to happen anytime soon. To me it’s a glaring problem in a company which is trying to build a new, impressed-with-the-glam-of-the-'opera' audience, but hey, there you are.
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hated the flat silver walls that Dexter and the designer, David Reppa came up with [for a production of Don Carlo], but she bided her time until after Dexter left the Met. Once he did, the scenery department, at her insistence, redid the walls with an elaborate pattern more in keeping with King Philip's -- and her -- taste.Volpe also allowed a more notorious benefactor to dictate that the booking operator at the Met's onsite restaurant answer the phone with, "Good afternoon, Vilar Grand Tier Restaurant," as if seeing the "V" word stenciled all over the walls wasn't enough. Volpe insists that he and Alberto Vilar "had little personal contact," and with crystal clear hindsight, notes that Vilar "always seemed to be harboring secrets . . . . I wondered when all this would go up in smoke." But he didn't let that stop him from allowing Vilar to act as if he ran the place.
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Jonathan: "Renee Fleming is a disaster as Rodelinda. What the hell is going on? WHY does she sing this rep? It was like one big slur that lasted for four hours. I did not hear one consonant, and there was no sense whatsoever of where one note ended and another began. It was just this sort of formless, free-flowing sound that sort of skated over Handel's music--the music that was hiding somewhere under this drool-bag of vocal drivel . . . . Also, I resent that somehow people have convinced themselves that it is good--or even that it is vaguely acceptable. The crowd of deaf (evidently), bravo-screeching Renee devotees were really pissing me off."
Alex: ". . . she sounded like ass last night. It was like all of her most infuriating qualities on steroids. The most weak, contrived, covered sound you can imagine. Utter, baffling lack of precision (which is doubly inexcusable in Handel). Total sacrifice of any phrasing or larger line to trying, and failing, to make everything precious. Diction so wretched and lazy I spent the whole evening annoyed that I couldn't understand what she was saying. And I don't know a lick of Italian. And she seems to think the obligatory Beautiful Voice™ moment at the end of each aria makes up for the ten minutes of dreck that came before. I'm not buying it, lady."
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From an article on Teresa Berganza's website, "Teresa Berganza, canto as expression of a style":
She’s got black eyes and a white simile . . . .
Her voice, the subduing voice of Teresa Berganza is something like the invocation of a mystery made accomplice to the shinning of her gaze; a voice full of magic, that isn’t an intention of itself but natural meaning to the service of a sentiment. She insufflates on a song both the ideal lyric purity of a melody and the taking of an existentialist dramatic passion; a voice to and for every vowel; a voice for musical words, which she melts in a prodigious way.
Teresa Berganza enriches the sounds through inexorable phraseology; managing to send forth nitid words through a melody, her “legato” fuses rhythms and cadencies like a goldsmith.
In Teresa Berganza everything previously said gives an abundant argumentation to deduct an aesthetic synthesis, over which a sound personality lays a style . . . .
Undoubtedly Mozart, Händel, Purcell, Offenbach, Bizet and Massenet in the
immense space of their glory, would tremble in pleasure if they heard this
outstanding Madrid citizen unravel the mystery they left for us in their
arias.
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"Marilyn Horne has been diagnosed with localized pancreatic cancer, which, allowing for recent significant breakthroughs in treatment, offers an excellent prognosis for a full recovery.Ms. Horne, who turned 72 on Monday, is scheduled to participate in "The Song Continues... 2006" next week, including masterclasses on January 24 and 27.
"Marilyn Horne is known throughout the world for not only her magnificent voice, but also for her tremendous energy and human spirit, which will, along with the love of her family and friends, see her through this challenge."
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Roberto Alagna . . . sta male a causa di crisi ipoglicemiche e non potrà cantare per almeno tre mesi . . . . A dare la notizia lo stesso cantante accompagnato dalla moglie, il soprano Angela Gheorghiu, che ha annullato i suoi appuntamenti in giro per il mondo per i prossimi mesi pur di stargli vicino.
UPDATE: January 14 . . . A veteran diva close to Gheorghiu says this morning, "Angela will sing the Traviatas."
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Among the rumors La Cieca doesn't believe:
Now, La Cieca knows she would be a hypocrite to lecture other people on the perils of Schadenfreude; she recalls, for example, practically peeing herself with delight when she heard about the dogs yapping at Cours-la-Reine in Renaaay's previous Met Manon. However, she will say she just doesn't quite grasp the glee with which some of those online greet the news that an admired and important artists is not going to sing.
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