Intermezzo

Orphee et Euridice in Stuttgart

Orphée et Euridice - Staatsoper Stuttgart, 29 December 2009

With a world-famous ballet company on their doorstep, you might think Stuttgart Opera would be gagging to work with them but, no, Orphée et Euridice (sic) is their first ever co-production, and it premiered this summer to a generally positive reaction. There's enough of each to satisfy both opera and ballet fans, instantly doubling the potential audience, always a bonus in these difficult times. It looked sold out or thereabouts on the night I visited, with interval snacks plucked from a steaming cauldron of d1ldo sized boiled sausages in the first floor salon perhaps an additional temptation for some.

Choreographer/director Christian Spuck selected Gluck's longer, later and now rarely performed 1774 Paris version (though I think with some of the original orchestration retained) because there are more ballets in between the singing. But rather than than alternating the two, he's joined the ballet sequences to the musical drama and the singers to the dancers, creating a seamless sung/danced drama. The ballets accompany, expand and comment on the simple, direct narrative rather than interrupting it. The singers are choregraphed too - it took a while to tell corps and chorus apart until I clocked that the dancers have muscles where the singers have breath support. 

One of the difficulties of staging the Paris version is that Gluck's story ends conclusively with Eurydice revived and married to Orpheus - but then there's a 15 minute ballet to finish with. How to handle this? Spuck uses it to puncture Gluck's happy ending. His final ballet mirrors his opening one. In the middle of the wedding celebrations, Eurydice falls writhing to the floor - and once more Orpheus is mourning his lost love. It becomes clear the whole story was a dream, a journey of the mind, perhaps a way of coming to terms with grief. Unfortunately for Spuck, Gluck's relentlessly jolly music undermines a potentially interesting and structurally satisfying idea.

A spare, effective design sets all the action in a decrepit ballroom. Orpheus is surrounded by a mass of mourners in dark sparkling evening wear. They transform into furies for a spectacular whirling ballet, recostume in all-white for the Elysian scenes, then return to their party gear for the end. It looks beautiful but often cluttered, diffusing what should be the most emotionally penetrating moments by turning them into crowd scenes. The journey out of the underworld, where Orpheus is accompanied only by eight lookalike Eurydices, is the most simply staged scene and perhaps because of that is the most poignant and memorable. On the other hand, Amor's appearance as a burlesque queen surrounded by blindfolded ballet boys in sequinned hotpants is arresting for all the wrong reasons.

The standard of singing was very much what you'd expect from a German regional opera company, not exactly world-class but more than competent and often surprisingly good. This performance's Orpheus was Kenneth Tarver (though Luciano Botelho is the tenor shown in the production photos). His secure, even tone and superb breath control were ideally suited to the slow, wrenching music, less so to the single coloratura aria with its demands on quickfire accuracy.  Alla Kravchuk and Catriona Smith doubled as Eurydice, which as they sound and in costume even look very alike seemed inexplicably redundant. A few harsh notes didn't detract from the charm of Yuko Kakuta's bubbly Amor. The chorus looked good, moved well, and hit all the right notes, but I couldn't identify one single word they sang all night.

Nicholas Kok performed the remarkable task of keeping orchestra, dancers and singers together at a lively pace, though the number of intonation problems, phrasing variations and plain simple errors from the violins made me wonder if the regular orchestra was bolstered with unseasoned seasonal stand-ins.

*****   more photos plus video and audio on next page   *****

Stefan Herheim's dream Rosenkavalier in Stuttgart

Der Rosenkavalier - Staatsoper Stuttgart, 27 November 2009

You might think the last thing the lengthy Der Rosenkavalier needs is even more music, but Stefan Herheim cheekily pre-empts its prelude with disorientating electronica. In a star-pricked, lavishly draped boudoir, a fading Diana Dors figure contemplates her vanished looks in a dressing table mirror.

Just when I wondered if I'd come on the wrong night by mistake, she furiously thrust her fist through its mirror and Strauss's music began. Horned and hairy priapic satyrs erupt from a giant frieze depicting the rape of Europa. One Pan-like creature fashions a silver rose from the broken mirror shards. They ravish the Marschallin to the famous brassy calls until an Apollonian Octavian descends from the skies to rescue her from the clutches of Dionysian abandon.

This is, needless to say, not the usual comedy of manners - the opulent rococo costuming is deceptive. Herheim's Rosenkavalier employs the primal forms of myth and symbol to explore the Freudian world of unconscious desire revealed by dreams. The unfulfilled Marschallin, tied by social etiquette, seeks satisfaction of her innermost desires in the unbound and illogical realm of fantasy. In this ideal world, she doesn't even have to choose between sex and chocolate - the page boy Mohammed, revealed as another randy satyr, takes her from behind as he delivers her breakfast.

The action is played out beneath a giant version of the Marschallin's blue crinoline, and just to make that clear it's doubled in miniature puppet form in the first act. Sophie is the Marschallin's younger self, and Mariandel yet another side. The bull-horned and horny Ochs (Ochs is German for ox/bull) wreaks Dionysian disruption with his satyr servants and their flapping rubber genitals. The court too have an animal side, establishing character instantly and brilliantly. Faninal and Sophie's maid are preening poultry, the notary a poodle, Valzacchi and Annina a cockroach and a moth, and the servants turn round to reveal sheep's heads behind. The only creature which doesn't quite work is the occasionally interposed pun-too-far of Strauss himself as a pantomime ostrich (Strauss is German for ostrich).

Of course the opera is about more than the Marschallin. Strauss and Hofmannsthal viewed a Europe at the end of an era, on the brink of decay, mirrored in Ochs's unbridled excesses. The painting of the Rape of Europa hanging behind is a constant reminder. Can his third act lesson teach Ochs anything?  Guillotined heads on poles and Annina's uniformed gas-masked children bear witness to the savageries of Europe's past and the still worse carnage yet to come. Ochs tries and fails to strangle 'Strauss' the panto ostrich like Rod Hull grappling with Emu (the mostly German audience sat straight faced, enraptured; I was dying). But he is ultimately defeated - the golden stars beneath the Marschallin's blue skirt are echoed in her triumphant final deus-ex-machina entry as the incarnation of Europa and the end of the panto nonsense. Ochs disappears into the skies, rocket-propelled, discharged to outer space.

As Sophie and Octavian are finally united, the Marschallin and Faninal join the audience in the boxes wearing everyday costume. Now it's Pan who's weeping as he stuffs his face with the mirror-rose he made, expiring bloody and writhing as the reactionary and sentimental emerge victorious. Herheim may love the opera, but he's disappointed in Strauss.

If all this makes it sound as if Herheim has replaced Strauss's Der Rosenkavalier with something of his own invention, nothing could be further from the truth. The action respects every turn of the music, and in many cases mimics it structurally. The most overt parody-waltzes are accompanied by knowing unison swaying. When it's time for the big numbers - the presentation of the rose, the final trio - he clears the stage and there's nothing to detract from clearly-presented motive and devastating emotional impact. The libretto may be used ingeniously, but it's never ignored. Neither is the emotional or physical direction that the music implies. Quite simply, it all rings true.

If there's one criticism which could be fairly levelled, it's that some of the smaller moments are not as touching as they might be. That's because Herheim chooses to expose the sentimentality rather than wallow in it - and it could be argued that because Strauss's sentimentality in Rosenkavalier is both conscious and intentional, it should be swallowed whole.

Manfred Honeck whipped up his excellent orchestra with an equal lack of saccharine fluff and a driving pace. Fantastically bold colouring, confidently varied dynamics and daring rubato complemented the hallucinatory visuals, detail swimming in and out of focus.

It's hard to pick a standout amongst the excellent cast, most of whom surpassed their bigger-name counterparts in the recent Covent Garden production. Mojca Erdmann was the only name I recognised. Her Sophie was beautifully-voiced though lacking in colour. Christiane Iven's blowsy Marschallin wasn't quite as elegant but she really held the stage, with even the second act scented by her presence. Marina Prudenskaja's darkly poised mezzo complemented a frighteningly convincing physical portrayal of Octavian, and she wasn't afraid to let rip and squawk her way through Mariandel. Lars Woldt's Ochs was strangely likeable despite his oafish excesses, and clearly a bumpkin (as the directions suggest) rather than a boor (as we usually get).

What a pity there were such a large number of technical problems on the night I visited. Curtains that wouldn't close, curtains that wouldn't open, drapes that snagged on ladders, failing lights, and assorted bumps, bangs and crashes all evening. It's a busy production that must make a lot of technical demands but these were basic issues.

*****   more photos on next page   *****

LOL Boheme

La bohème - Royal Opera House, 23 December 2009

I was crying at the end of this Bohème alright. With laughter. Had Musetta sacrificed more than her earrings for Mimì? Let's just say the resemblance between the proffered fluffy white muff and her show-stealing Act 2 canine companion* was a striking one.
(*'Pickle' the German Spitz, per programme).

But it's the least of this dreadful old production's problems. Where do I start? The artist who can't afford to eat but can pay a nude model? The door which supposedly leads to a staircase placed in what is clearly an external wall ?  The wagon which rocks throughout the Act 3 prelude then spills out a flustered couple at its end (a 'colourful' addition unsupported by either music or libretto)? The vast distance between Rodolfo and Mimì as he sings of gazing on her face?  Even the welcome sight of Kostas Smoriginas in his underpants was, on mature and objective reflection, gratuitous, though it pains me to admit it. I won't go on. Cinematic style realism, which is this production's aim, relies on getting the details right - all of them. No amount of gasp-inducing fake snow can cover that up.

Some productions are traditional in a good sense. They respect the music and the words, and deal with both honestly if unimaginatively. But this one is simply tired, lazy and past it. I can only guess at what sort of internal politics keep it on the schedules.

The music was some compensation for the torture of the visuals. Andris Nelsons, on the third of his five nights, began brilliantly. The first two acts displayed a chamber-like grasp of colour and detail. Every single note mattered. His dynamic range was broad and bold, his daring luftpausen perfectly judged to highlight what followed without losing track of what had passed. The orchestra played beautifully for him, as well as they have for Pappano and Bychkov in recent months. Something changed after the interval though. The exuberance had faded, the lustrous detail was blurred. Still perfectly good, just not quite as emotionally gripping. I didn't, incidentally, notice any of the pit/stage co-ordination problems some of the first night reviewers commented on.

The cast too is a solid one. Although there was an air of routine to Piotr Beczala's Rodolfo, he stepped up a gear to project his big numbers with more ardour. Hibla Gerzmava was a strong Mimì, perhaps too robust to be entirely sympathetic. Gabriele Viviani (Marcello), Inna Dukach (Musetta), Jacques Imbrailo (Schaunard) and Kostas Smoriginas (Colline) completed the well-rounded central ensemble, the only small complaint being a certain similarity between the voices of Hibla Gerzmava and Inna Dukach. They deserve a better show.

Production photos here.

Julius Drake's 50th Birthday Concert

Julius Drake Birthday Gala - Wigmore Hall, 22 December 2009

Musicians' birthday concerts can be smugly self-congratulatory or so featherweight they're meaningless to anyone outside the enchanted circle. But Julius Drake's fiftieth was hardcore. Just like any regular recital, he was at the piano throughout, serious and attentive to detail. The only difference was the regular change of partner.

The uncelebratory tone was set early on with Derek Lee Ragin singing Purcell's Lord, what is man, followed by Ian Bostridge and the three darkest songs from Britten's Who are these Children?. Songs of blood and death, explored with frightening intensity by Bostridge, whose voice has darkened and gained power recently. There was a welcome return to form by Mark Padmore too, lyrically flowing in Schubert's Auf dem Strom with Richard Watkins on sensitively judged horn.

Christopher Maltman slotted in four of Wolf's Mörike Lieder with great composure before dashing for a train, and Birgid Steinberger's fragile soprano flitted from Mendelssohn, Schumann and Strauss to Mahler. Gerald Finley wrapped his handsome voice around a couple of Tchaikovsky songs before slotting the names of Drake's daughters into the final line of Ives's Two little flowers - the only overt acknowledgement of the recital's purpose all night.  

Alice Coote made a mini-opera of Der Zwerg, the expressionist highlight of a Schubert selection that left everyone wanting more. Sophie Daneman's cool Fauré and Joyce DiDonato's immaculately poised Spanish songs offered a contrast in perspective - one of the fruits of gathering this diverse bunch of singers together in one place, and a reminder that whatever the composer, whatever the singer, Drake could adapt his skills subtly and effectively.

It wasn't all singing - Nicholas Daniel joined Drake for three Schumann canons. I'm not convinced that a rearrangement for piano and oboe really works, but the warmth and easy empathy of the performance compensated.

A grand finale saw everyone back on stage together with pairings including Bostridge and Daneman in Schubert's Licht und Liebe and DiDonato and Finley in Fauré's Pleurs d'or. But one of the evening's most special moments was the only one where Julius Drake sat back, as Mark Padmore was accompanied only by Nicholas Daniel for Britten's I wonder as I wander.

Three hours after it began, the evening ended with what everyone had been waiting for, all Julius Drake's guests singing together. The fitting choice? Brahms's Zum Schluss ('in conclusion').

 
 

flatscreen, flatscreen on the wall, what's the favouritest opera of all?

Earlier in the year, viewers of the German TV channels 3sat, ZDFtheaterkanal and CLASSICA voted for their favourite opera.

Over 30,000 votes were cast and a shortlist of the ten favourites was compiled for a second and final voting round, now in progress. The ten are Aida, La Bohème, Carmen, Don Giovanni, Fidelio, Lohengrin, Der Rosenkavalier, Tosca, La Traviata and Die Zauberflöte. (Go here if you're itching to cast a vote - you don't have to be German).

Before a final winner, 'The Most Beautiful Opera of All', is selected, each of the participating channels will now show full productions of all ten over a short period in December and January, together with supporting documentaries. It's being billed by the organisers as the most intensive opera-focused TV series ever. And who am I to argue? Can you imagine the BBC - ever - showing 100-odd hours of opera in a year, let alone four weeks? Refreshingly, they say it's ultimately not that important who wins, the main thing is just to enjoy the operas.

Interestingly, the list of the most popular operas in terms of bums on seats;(based on German Theatre Association statistics) is quite different. Here, Die Zauberflöte is the runaway winner, with more than twice as many viewings as its nearest rival over the ten year period covered by the statistics. La Bohème, Carmen, Don Giovanni, Tosca and La Traviata join this top ten as well, with Hänsel und Gretel, Nozze di Figaro, Die Entführung and Madama Butterfly also making the cut. Most of the other voter favourites appear further down the statistical list, but Lohengrin is nowhere to be seen in the top 30 - presumably the staging difficulties mean it's not produced frequently enough to register.

happy gothmas

Toby Spence rolls another one

"I loathe Bizet’s Carmen. Yes, it is wellcrafted and, yes, it has famous tunes. It is in those universally recognised melodies that the merits of the piece end and my hatred begins. They have been mauled and bent out of shape so much by countless TV ads, arrangements for solo flute with marching band and other Muzak versions that I can only hear the popera as a hit parade.

And then there is the story. As Don José blithely ignores the demure and hopeless passes made at him by Micaela in favour of Carmen, the desire to stand up and scream: “Go and live your life with the nice girl from the village, and tell that Gypsy slapper to sod off” is too much for me. And then there’s the hideous thigh slapping and unnatural cigarette smoking that all Carmens hope passes for hussy behaviour in Seville. It is unbelievable what people think translates as sexy when it comes to staging this long, dull, yet commercial melodrama."

2009 poked over and reheated

2009 isn't quite over yet - I still have four operas, two concerts and a couple of TV specials to go. But now seems as good a time as any to look back at the past year.

Most memorable performance - the opening night of Il barbiere di Siviglia at Covent Garden. And not just because Joyce DiDonato soldiered on with what turned out to be a broken leg. A perfect constellation of production, cast and - most importantly - brilliant conductor created something unforgettable from an opera usually dismissed as trivial. The Met's comparatively disappointing attempt demonstrated how tough this opera is to get right even with promising ingredients. The simple joys of Jordi Savall's Wigmore Hall appearance and a Barenboim-led liedmatinee in Berlin will also linger in the memory. And what about the Hallé's two-night Götterdämmerung in Manchester?

Most controversial opera production - Christof Loy's Covent Garden Tristan comfortably edged out his Lulu in the heated debate stakes, with Rupert Goold's ENO Turandot bringing up the rear. As always, the attacks were grounded in logic, the defences in emotion, and the perspectives irreconcilable. But controversy, as Germany's vital and forward-looking operatic culture demonstrated with productions like Stefan Herheim's Lohengrin and Calixto Bieito's Armida, is essential for the life and growth of the art form. The real tragedy of many of the Royal Opera's older productions is not that they're bad or out of date, but simply that no-one cares less one way or the other.

CD of the Year - Regular readers will know I don't really do CDs. And if I could have shared or even downloaded this recording, I would have. But after its spectacular and belated London debut I couldn't resist my only CD purchase of the year: George Benjamin's opera Into The Little Hill .

Comeback (sorta) of the year - after the disappointing news that Grigory Sokolov has indefinitely suspended further UK visits due to visa problems, the return to London of the divinely-touched Radu Lupu with a massive (by Lupu standards) three appearances in 2009 was more than welcome.

Most brilliant stupid idea - who would have thought that a little opera company like English Touring Opera could pull off five obscure Handel operas in a row then take them round the country to great acclaim? They aimed high, and a minimal budget proved no obstacle to their top notch Handelfest.

Guilty pleasure - although every cell in my brain and every bone in my body tells me Gergiev's Mariinsky Ring was an indefensible crime against Wagner,indeed against all opera, it grew on me as it progressed. In retrospect I, er, actually quite liked it. And would go back again. Paying money. So there. {{{ducks}}}

Tip for 2010 - amongst a crop of young conductors who've sprung into the public eye recently, one stands head and shoulders above the rest. Andris Nelsons doesn't just have promise like Ticciati or infectious enthusiasm like Dudamel or energy like Nézet-Séguin - he has the lot, plus musical insight, and he has it already. And he can only get better as he gets older.

The Tsarina's Slippers on xmas eve TV

Here's something to do while you're stuffing the turkey. A reminder that BBC2 will be broadcasting the Royal Opera House's recent Tsarina's Slippers on 24 December at 2.20pm.

It should be available on the iPlayer shortly afterwards - here.

Ewa Podles at Wigmore Hall

Ewa Podles / Garrick Ohlsson - Wigmore Hall, 21 December 2009

While many of her contemporaries have switched to character roles or drifted quietly into retirement, Ewa Podleś, at nearly 60, continues to amaze with the barely dimmed power and vitality of her unique voice. A true contralto ('the only one', she claims), her smoky, air-cushioned timbre has acquired a velvety patina up top, but it remains secure and accurate. And what a rare pleasure to hear such dead-on pitch - every note hits bullseye. A scarlet caftan and matching heels hint at glamour. They're countered by a mumsy demeanour and no-nonsense roller set. In the context of her profession it's a bold, brave image that throws all the attention back on the voice.

Nothing about Podleś is ordinary, and that includes her Wigmore programme. When were Mieczysław Karłowicz's songs last performed in London? The nine Podleś chose shared a folk-tinged simplicity. Poems of love and loss, Podleś gave them her emotive all, but it was hard not to feel a first-rate talent was being expended on less than first-rate material. 

Musorgsky's seven Detskaya (Nursery) songs followed, an opportunity for Podleś to exercise her comedy chops with a little infantile humour. Her delivery was whole-hearted yet unforced. So why, a few onomatopoeiac lines aside, weren't they funny? I suspect the humour is too text-based to be grasped unless you understand Russian well, and I don't. Timing is everything, and even with the translation on my lap, I couldn't identify exactly where the laughs were located.

A Chopin Impromptu and Fantaisie from her genial and empathetic piano sidekick Garrick Ohlsson introduced the second half with understated elegance, if not quite the spoiling, transporting experience Ingrid Fliter had offered just a few days before.

Haydn's lengthy and dramatic cantata Arianna a Naxos was the stirring finale, displaying Podleś at her elemental best. Wringing desire and torment from the notes with increasing abandon, her final, shocking, bellowed barbaro! seemed to erupt spontaneously from deep within.

If there's one thing the programme lacked, it was the laser-cut coloratura Podleś is perhaps best known for. Problem sorted with her two rousing Rossini encores, Cruda sorte! Amor tiranno! from L'Italiana in Algeri (with a backing chorus of Ohlsson and his page turner) and Canzonetta Spagnuola.

Here they both are, recorded in Poland in 1998:

DIARY DATE - Ewa Podleś makes a long overdue return to Covent Garden in July 2011 as Madame de la Haltière in Massenet's Cendrillon.

Gergiev's French dances

LSO / Gergiev - Barbican, 18 December 2009

Valery Gergiev's Dutilleux season is a creditable attempt to air some underexposed music, but this performance of the Symphony no.2 for two orchestras did the composer few favours.  Though the positioning of the smaller second orchestra to the right of rather than in front of the main ensemble may have interfered with the spatial effect Dutilleux was after, the first movement was delicately handled. But the pace sagged fatally in the slow second movement and Gergiev never regained momentum.

The two flanking ballets were much more successful, a cinematically-coloured Debussy Jeux just trumping an effervescent if overfinessed Stravinsky Jeu des cartes.   

Ravel opened and closed the programme. Both works demonstrated the limitations of Gergiev's batonless, air-massaging technique. An uncoordinated first bar entry was the first of several to mar his funereally-paced Pavane pour une infante défunte. And Gergiev's psychic powers alone weren't enough to maintain a flowing upward dynamic in the closing Boléro. Instead the LSO lurched unguided from one volume setting to the next, with overpowering saxophone solos striking an unduly brash note. It was all a bit of an unholy mess by the end, winning out only with the sheer exuberance of the playing.

To be broadcast on Radio 3 at 7pm on Monday 21 December.

 

Covent Garden La Boheme in photos

Rehearsal pics featuring the first cast of the current revival - Piotr Beczala (Rodolfo), Hibla Gerzmava (Mimì),  Gabriele Viviani (Marcello), Jacques Imbrailo (Schaunard) and Kostas Smoriginas (Colline).

Listen to director John Copley and conductor Andris Nelsons discuss the production on Radio 3's InTune here.

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LSO 2010/11 season revealed

My first reaction to the London Symphony Orchestra's 2010/11 Barbican schedule is disappointment that it includes not one opera (unless you count Candide with Kristjan Järvi in June 2011). The LSO's operas in concert have been a real highlight of recent seasons, and I have to suspect that cost is a barrier.

But there are at least a few choral concerts, with Janáček's Glagolitic Mass from Sir Colin in October, Elgar's The Kingdom from Mark Elder in January 2011, and most intriguingly, a screening of Eisenstein's masterpiece Ivan the Terrible accompanied with Prokofiev's score conducted by Xian Zhang in April 2011.

Sir Colin returns with Mitsuko Uchida for a series combining Beethoven's piano concertos with Nielsen's symphonies; this runs from May to December 2011. There's not much else piano-wise, though Lang Lang's attempt on Liszt's first piano concerto in November with Daniel Harding is likely to be a popular draw.

Violinists are the soloists of choice this season, with Viktoria Mullova, Anne-Sophie Mutter, Nikolaj Znaider, Midori, Janine Jansen, Leonidas Kavakos and Julia Fischer between them covering all the big violin concertos.

Valery Gergiev focuses on Tchaikovsky, Mahler, Shostakovich and Shchedrin. Carmen Suite (with which Gergiev opens the season) aside, Shchedrin is underexposed in London, so this is a particularly interesting choice, though the Mahler 9 in March 2011 may prove the popular favourite.

Simon Rattle conducts Bruckner's 9th in March 2011, and Bernard Haitink's two visits in June 2011 include Bruckner's 4th. Other visiting conductors include Intermezzo favourite Andris Nelsons, Antonio Pappano, John Eliot Gardiner and Andre Previn.

Kristjan Järvi's name meanwhile crops up a massive five times - that's more than official guest conductor Daniel Harding or emeritus conductor Sir Colin. Is some sort of official announcement imminent? Do they just really, really like him? Or does he, like the LSO themselves, offer a bulk-booking discount?

Full details expected on LSO and Barbican websites in January, with booking open soon afterwards.

Netrebko and Villazon in Xmas day TV Boheme

Get your hankies ready. Robert Dornhelm's exquisite film of La Bohème, starring Anna Netrebko and Rolando Villazón, is to be shown on BBC2 on Xmas day at 4.10pm.

Though shot in a studio, with the soundtrack's Marcello and Schaunard substituted by more camera-friendly faces, the movie has a truthfulness rarely found in stage productions. This is mostly down to the central performances - how wise (in retrospect) Dornhelm was to create this testament to the partnership at the height of their powers.

But it also helps that he has spared no expense to communicate poverty. The clothes are shabby, the apartment is a dump, possessions are few. The richness of the characters' inner lives is highlighted by contrast. We understand that their dreams are all they have to live for. And more depressingly we learn that love and art are as nothing if you don't have money. The camera is always pointed in the same direction as the music, and perfectly responsive to it. Dornhelm apparently has no operatic training but it's hard to believe. Possibly the greatest opera movie since Syberberg's Parsifal.

Bertrand de Billy conducts the great Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra and Vienna State Opera bigmouth Intendant Ioan Holender makes a cameo appearance as Alcindoro.

Here's a preview:

and here's an interview with Anna:

the magic baton of Mr Jansons

Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra of Amsterdam /Jansons - Barbican, 12 and 13 December 2009

Last weekend's flying Concertgebouw visit packed in two concerts in less than 24 hours. The better of the pair was Sunday afternoon's Mahler 2.

Mariss Jansons had me gripped right from the hovering, shimmering strings of the first bar. There's something magical, almost mystical about the way he balances architecture against details, form against texture, head against heart. I never felt any aspect of the music was being sacrificed in pursuit of insights elsewhere. His path was secure, unerring, and in a work that tempts theatrics from even the best, ultimately truthful. His music is the sort that doesn't need to shout to be heard. Quite overwhelming.

Saturday night's concert was more fragmented and ultimately less satisfying. The glowing strings, warm brass and sonorous woodwinds of the Concertgebouw are pretty much a given, so no complaints on that score. But where Jansons's restraint in the Mahler was revelatory, in Saturday's Brahms 4 it seemed more like a brake. There was an abundance of elegant craft, but I found myself longing for the do-or-die passion of Rattle, Barenboim (on a good day) or even Daniel Harding.

Smetana's Bartered Bride overture was energetic but inherently throwaway, and Martinu's Double Concerto for Two String Orchestras, Piano and Timpani I simply don't care for, never have, sorry. In some ways, the encores, a Dvorak Slavonic Dance and Brahms Hungarian Dance were the most effective elements of the evening.

Perhaps my diminished enthusiasm has something to do with the seating though. I was, unusually, sitting in the balcony, where the view is perfect and the sound exquisitely blended. But the famously dry acoustic of the Barbican is a thousand times more apparent here than downstairs. The seats are fairly priced (a positive bargain in fact) to take account of tthe problem, but it's an economy I shan't make again in a hurry.

*****   more photos on next page   *****

Ingrid Fliter returns to Wigmore Hall

Ingrid Fliter - Wigmore Hall, 16 December 2009

photo: Dan Porges

Drama seems to pursue Ingrid Fliter, especially when she visits Wigmore Hall. Last time, she suddenly paused mid-recital when a key became stuck. A replacement piano had to be wheeled on before she could continue.

Last night there was a more prosaic excuse – flu – as Wigmore Hall’s director announced before she came on. But, he added, she had agreed to soldier on with a pruned version of her originally-planned and heroically lengthy all-Chopin programme.

At first it seemed like a mistake. Her opening Nocturne was dull and measured, the sort of thing you might expect from a competent student. Left and right hands played with little sense of having anything to say to each other. Smudgy pedalling failed to obscure basic fingering errors. The plunging fingers and tossed hair were it seemed, like Lang Lang’s, plastered on to the performance as a route into the music rather than an expression of it. She made it to the end, but I half expected her to get up and make her excuses.

Extraordinarily, the Barcarolle that followed just seconds later displayed an entirely different pianist, the one the packed hall had come to hear. Great Chopin performances fall on a cusp between expression and empty display. It is Fliter’s skill – sometimes - to locate that narrow groove. The lilting rhythms flowed from her fingertips effortlessly. The audience applauded spontaneously, and Fliter announced haltingly she would continue with the whole of the planned first half.

A Nocturne, a Mazurka, a Polonaise – Fliter located the heart of each unerringly. Her playing can be extraordinarily muscular, more ‘masculine’ than any man. But she is also capable of the most delicate touch, whisper-quiet yet firmly articulated. It’s this ability to explore the extremes, allied with a pronounced and sensitive rubato that seems to breathe with the work, that makes her Chopin so compelling. Every note is an event, the cumulative effect emotionally wrenching.

After the interval it was back to the truncated programme, eleven Waltzes in place of the promised seventeen. Fliter relaxed into a less intense but no less inspired performance, exploring the reflective introspection of these familiar ‘dances of the soul’ as much as their glittering brilliance. Medicine for body as well as the heart perhaps – by the end of the recital Fliter was sufficiently recovered to brave a CD signing.

Otello on ur telly

How do you get from this

to this?

Good news for those of us who haven't experienced Birmingham Opera Company's unique audience-participation Othello, currently playing in a disused city centre warehouse to rave reviews. 

A documentary to be shown on BBC2 in the spring follows the behind-the-scenes preparation.

The programme will also feature director Graham Vick's spectacular Bregenz Aida reports the Birmingham Post.

Berlin Philharmonic want your money and they want it now

Thought about what you're doing in 15 months time yet? Tickets for the Berlin Philharmonic's February 2011 London visit went on sale today.

The Berliner's four-night residency takes in both the Barbican and Southbank, and members of either can buy tickets now. Non-members will have to wait until 14 December.

Although the concerts are unlikely to sell out immediately, most tickets are at the spendy end of the scale (up to £75), and already the limited 'cheap' (£15) seats are thin on the ground - so early booking is advisable for these.

More details and ticket sales link here.

Mrs Prada kicks fatties out of Met

According to Peter Davis in Paper, Miuccia Prada took one look at the supersized supernumeraries she was due to dress for the new Met Attila and groaned: "I cannot clothe them! I need models!"

The kiss-a$$ Met has duly ordered an extra set of extras to please the surprisingly picky (yes, that *is* her above) designer.

how much is the Berlin Philharmonic?

About £120,000 according to Kenneth Walton in today's Scotsman. A mere common or garden "top-notch" orchestra on the other hand can be yours for £70,000.

(The rest of the article is a thought-provoking look at the provision of classical music in Scotland, and well worth reading).