Intermezzo

Robin Ticciati's House of Gingerbread

Hänsel und Gretel - Royal Opera House, 11 December 2008 (first night of second cast)

Despite the fact that Hänsel und Gretel is nominally a children's opera, there were precious few kids in the auditorium for this second performance in the run. There weren't many at the first either. But with tickets at up to £110 it's perhaps not surprising.

Less privileged children will just have to wait for the TV screening - now confirmed as BBC2 at 3pm on 25 December.

So 25 year old conductor Robin Ticciati was, as usual, younger than 99% of his audience.  This was not just the first night for the second cast, but also Ticciati's Covent Garden debut. Alternating conducting duties with Sir Colin Davis was not quite a mighty leap into the unknown, as he's just finished conducting Glyndebourne's touring production.

His Hänsel und Gretel is quite different from the dark post-Wagnerian elegance of Sir Colin's. For a start, he set up a cracking pace, knocking at least five minutes off each half. The touch was lighter, he pulled tempos and dynamics around less. It was a playful interpretation that emphasised the shiny surfaces more and the dark undercurrents less.

The orchestra, horns especially, played beautifully for him. Overtures apart, his eyes were locked on the stage almost constantly, with barely a glance at the score, still less at the musicians.  Obviously he's telepathic as well as talented, because everything held together perfectly.

In Alice Coote's Hänsel and Camilla Tilling's Gretel we had a less intuitively-matched pairing than the first cast of Angelika Kirchschlager (enjoying herself in row B of tonight's audience) and Diana Damrau. The first cast were best of friends; the second were more like real siblings, with all the differences and discords that implies.

Alice Coote's Hänsel was the boisterous dimwit familiar from her Met performance earlier in the year and powerfully sung. Camilla Tilling's voice was underweight in the first act, but improved, and she had a childlike vulnerability that eluded Diana Damrau, for all her impressive technique. We all now know girls are smarter than boys, but it's also woven into the Hansel and Gretel storyline, as Coote and Tilling beautifully illustrated.

Irmgard Vilsmaier as Mother and Eike Wilm Schulte as Father got a head start on laughs - she's about twice his size in all directions. They sang more accurately and enunciated more clearly than the first cast, even if they lacked some of their dramatic confidence and presence.

Ann Murray's more governessy character terrified less than Anja Silja's definitive witch, though the voice is in better shape. As reader ljg pointed out, she may be the first singer to tackle a role previously performed by her husband (Philip Langridge at the Met).

Eri Nakamura's Sandman and Simona Mihai's Dew Fairy were both nicely done, though the rubber-masked Sandman costume still gives me the creeps  - far more so than the dead children strung up in the witch's freezer which have so perturbed 'children's campaigners'.  The Tiffin schoolchildren on the stage didn't seem to have the least problem with any of it.

Incidentally, Green & Blacks have been giving out their very yummy chocolate before selected shows for a while now, and I was pleased to find the Royal Opera House have recruited another  sponsor, this time Acqua di Parma, handing out cologne samples. One commercial intrusion I really don't mind.

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

No swan required - Lohengrin in concert, in Paris

Lohengrin - Salle Pleyel, Paris, 5 February 2008

Jaap van Zweden / Klaus Florian Vogt / Anne Schwanewilms / Netherlands Radio Choir / Nederlands Radio Filharmonisch Orkest

Wagner is no less popular in Paris than anywhere else, so it was a bit surprising to see a couple of hundred empty seats at this concert performance of Lohengrin. Of course the Nederlands Radio Filharmonisch Orkest is hardly a name to draw a crowd, and it was a wet, wet night.

But the 8pm start (or more accurately, the 12.30am finish) seemed to be the root of most grumbles on the night. Several people left (reluctantly) at the intervals, more (irritatingly) during the quietest parts of the last act, and there was a mad dash for the doors at the end.

The Salle Pleyel is a starchy, institutional-looking cavern with a correspondingly big, boomy acoustic. The empty seats must have accentuated this. The hall is noted for the projection it can bring to even the smallest of ensembles. Stick 200-odd musicians on stage and imagine how that effect is magnified. Not quite surround-sound, but I was in the middle of the stalls and could close my eyes and imagine I was in the centre of an orchestra pit. It made this the perfect venue to experience Lohengrin, which really benefits texturally more from the dense tapestry rather than the filgree web approach.

The Nederlands Radio Filharmonisch may not be the most refined of orchestras, but their energy and enthusiasm go a long way, and they were focussed and attentive towards conductor Jaap von Zweden, a small purposeful-looking man resembling a stray Nibelung.

They tore into the Vorspiel like wild dogs on a rabbit, an indication of what was to come. Shimmeringly radiant strings be damned, brute strength seemed to be the template. Like many in the audience, I was taken aback by the sheer force of their delivery, magnified by Jaap von Zweden's megadecibel Motorhead dynamics. This was one night when I wouldn't have noticed if any mobile phones went off. My neighbours' conversations were completely inaudible beneath the wall of sound. 

But it was a power harnessed with great discipline, not an uncontrolled rampage. He was attentive to the demands of the score, and could turn the volume right down too. Crucially, he controlled the orchestral balance, and never drowned out the singers, even the delicate-voiced Anne Schwanewilms.

The exceptional all-round quality of the singing was the real highlight of this concert though. No Wagnerian elephants bellowing at each other across the vast plains of the stage tonight. Their classic concert positioning in front of the orchestra permitted greater subtlety for one thing.

Klaus Florian Vogt's unusual combination of strength and purity makes him surely the greatest Lohengrin around right now. It's a role he's so familiar with that he was the only one of tonight's cast who performed without a score.

His charismatic performance, unwaveringly direct and honest, flawlessly precise, was simply astounding, and the stadium-sized cheer he got at the end was no surprise. Definitely worth a visit to Vienna for in May.

Anne Schwanewilms gave me some doubts to begin with. It took her a long, long time to settle in and stop pecking cautiously at notes before landing on them. But she has a sweet, silvery innocence to her voice that makes her a delightfully girlish Elsa, even if her diction is not as clear as it might be.

Her deep red velvet frock lent a bit of medieval flavour amongst all the tailcoats, but what was with the 1€ plastic butterfly clip in her hair? Why do so many singers wear these gorgeous, pricy dresses, then go and pluck their hair accessories from the bargain bin at Douglas?

Eike Wilm Schulte and Marianne Cornetti were the bad guys, Telramund and Ortrud, and a very effective couple they made. Physically as well as vocally they were perfectly (mis)matched - I would love to see these two together on stage.

Schulte was a bit shouty, which at times rather obscured otherwise very fine singing. Maybe he thought he needed to throw his voice over the orchestra, but Zweden was in fact hugely considerate of his singers, and I didn't notice any overwhelming orchestral waves.

With her Cruella de Vil dip-dyed hair - blonde at the front, flaming red at the back - and her swirling black velvet cloak, Cornetti looked more sinister than she sounded.

A wide vibrato took a while to settle, but it was her Italianate delivery, unexpected in this part and initially jarring, which proved one of the most inspired and revelatory aspects of her casting. Richly dramatic, powerful yet polished to a dark sheen, it was stunningly effective laid next to Anne Schwanewilms' ethereal lustre.

Ronnie Johansen as King Heinrich and Geert Smits as the Herald proved competent and reliable, if not as dazzling as the rest of the cast. And the Netherlands Radio Choir, all 100-ish of them, provided an incredibly high standard of support all round, with a power to match the orchestra's and an assured, accurate delivery. Presumably they had a five hour road trip straight after the concert; there was a fleet of Dutch coaches with engines running outside the Salle Pleyel when I emerged at half past midnight.

As mentioned earlier, there's a full video recording available here of the same concert as given in Amsterdam a couple of days earlier. It doesn't have the overwhelming visceral force of the live experience that makes me soooooooo glad I got to see the real thing, but at least it gives a good idea of how incredible the singing was.

 

    

Sometimes it's the background that makes the picture.....^ and v .....

Klaus Florian Vogt goes down well in Munich

Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg - Bayerische Staatsoper, Nationaltheater, Munich, 31 July 2007
(Münchner Opernfestspiele 2007)

This was Klaus Florian Vogt's night. The last time a performance took my breath away the way this one did was - last time I saw Klaus Florian Vogt actually. In Lohengrin at the Met last May he stunned with the choirboy purity of his voice, its simple beauty. Tonight, the voice was rather different - or maybe he'd adapted his performance to suit his role of Stolzing, which is generally a little lower-lying anyway. Whatever, it retains that remarkable clarity, but the innocent, otherworldly air is replaced by a more centred and inflected delivery. The power is incredible - the voice is so clean, but it slices through the orchestra even when he's not pushing it. When he ups the volume it's simply majestic. It wasn't an entirely perfect performance - he slipped out of focus now and again, but he didn't fail on the big arias.

The audience was a mixture of hardened Wagnerites and night-outers but I think everyone could feel how the atmosphere changed when he sang. He got the most enormous ovation at the curtain call - even he was surprised - the whole place shook with the cheering and stamping.

Ending the Munich Opera Festival with Die Meistersinger is a tradition going back many years. Only the one performance is given each year, so there's no opportunity for the cast to refine their technique. The current production was introduced in 2004. It's framed in simple, fairly literal sets. That's budget-simple, not chic-minimalist simple. Curved walls are turned round to become interiors, plain chairs and tables serve as furniture, props are few. It has a plain, timeless quality that should serve this production well for years to come.

Costumes are modern. Well, modern-ish. This production's Nuremberg is a town through which the winds of fashion have not blown since about 1987. Klaus Florian Vogt is given a ghastly winged and lacquered Lady Di blowdry, which thankfully collapses into waves by the last act. It is complemented by some criminal attire - an Alagna-fest of cuban heels, pleated pants, leather jerkin, and bolo tie. Suprisingly, his hawtness is only lightly compromised by these disasters. His Eva, Camilla Nylund, doesn't notice. She's got her own mullet, airhostess suit and Queen Mother shoes to worry about. The Meistersingers escape lightly with a variety of elegant suits, though David (Kevin Conners) must endure a few teenage styles.

On to the music. What can I say? For most it is not Wagner's finest moment, and there are a few longueurs, but the orchestra under Peter Schneider were magnificent and invested the whole five hours with remarkable purpose and energy.

There were no duds amongst the singers either. It must help that this production sets their characterisations very traditionally. A few modern props are introduced - the scoring of Stolzing's first try-out is done on a powerpoint presentation, Beckmesser accompanies himself for his contest song using a sort of portable beatbox round his neck - but these don't stray far from what was originally intended.

Kevin Conners is perhaps a little on the old side to play the apprentice David, but the voice is a perenially youthful one, and he has the physical lightness and dexterity to make the most of his comic moments.

The other great comedy role of the piece is of course Beckmesser. Here the short and stout Eike Wilm Schulte had us even before he opened his mouth with his strutting goggle-eyed physical characterisation. His full sonorous voice was a joy to the ear. His 'bad' singing was superbly nuanced - without missing a note or hamming it up he managed to be as exquisitely awful as the role demanded.

Matti Salminen was back for his third opera in as many nights, this time as Pogner. He did sound a little tired now and then, but generally it was a fine, dignified performance.

Jan-Hendrik Rootering as Sachs disappointed slightly. Sachs is of necessity the still, quiet centre of the piece, around whom the dramas rage. But he's also the motor for change in the community so the part needs a certain vitality. Rootering though went for virtual immobility. With a build that could stop a pig in a corridor, perhaps, like Pavarotti, this was something of a necessity. The vocal performance lacked colour too, though, not to mention reach and power. It wasn't a terrible performance, but next to the other principals, his star inevitably shone less brightly.

Camilla Nylund too lacked impact. Again there was nothing particularly wrong with her performance, but her voice is too shrill to be appealing, and she was frosty and uninvolved.

There are few experiences less pleasant than a long Wagner done badly. But done well, the hours just disappear without you noticing. Today's performance started at 4pm, and when we came out at 10, it was shock to see it was dark. That's how good it was. I practically had to mortgage my ovaries to get the great seat I had tonight, but it was more than worth it.

(More photos here.)