On Sunday 2 October Daniel Barenboim will - for the first time ever in his long career - conduct an opera by Rossini.
Ruth Berghaus's ancient and much-loved production of Il barbiere di Siviglia prefaces the Berlin Staatsoper's season in a special show modelled on the anteprima (= remarketed dress rehearsal) successfully introduced at Barenboim's other house, La Scala. It's open only to members of the patrons society and under-35s, who can buy seats for just 7 euros.
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Tony Pappano's Opera Italia is the pick so far of the BBC's current opera season.
Here are some of the best bits.
Juan Diego discusses the finer points of Rossini over a bucket or two of vino rosso:
and his startling Cessa di piu resistere with rehearsal style piano - and vocal - accompaniment from the maestro:
more vocal accompaniment for the criminally underappreciated Pietro Spagnoli and Largo al factotum:
Do check out the whole thing on the iPlayer - there's a tip here about accessing it from outside the UK.
UPDATE - a few more clips:
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Il turco in Italia - Royal Opera House, 8 April
Il turco in Italia, it has to be said, is not Rossini's strongest work musically. There are endless yards of tiddly-pom, and even the arias are not his most melodic or memorable. The reason it's so widely-performed has to lie in the ingenious plot and superb dramatic pacing.
A strong production can paper over the weaknesses, and as they've demonstrated with their Covent Garden La Cenerentola and Il barbiere di Siviglia, Patrice Caurier and Moshe Leiser have a special affinity for Rossini's cruel wit. For Il turco in Italia, here on its second run, the broad-stroked humour is again echoed in the bold colours and sharp lines of the early sixties, where Aleksandra Kursak's gloved and girdled Fiorilla is fomenting her own sexual revolution, regardless of her hapless husband Alessandro Corbelli's protests.
Continue reading "Il turco in Italia returns to Royal Opera House" »
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Joyce DiDonato / David Zobel - Wigmore Hall, 26 January 2010
It's not often that Rossini trumps Beethoven. But the best-known piece on this programme, Rossini's haunting Willow Song from Otello, accompanied by the ravishing harp of Lucy Wakeford, touched the heart in a way Beethoven's neatly Mozartian and little-heard early song-studies couldn't.
Delightful though Joyce DiDonato's baroque and bel canto favourites are, there's a limit to the number of times anyone wants to hear the same songs yet again in recital. But Joyce's visits to London have become so frequent it's not surprising she's running short of fresh material. This recital, billed 'Three Centuries of Amore', delved deep into the Italian song book to dust off some rarely heard songs and a few more familiar ones. All, even the most obscure, were presented from memory with a studied ease that suggested Joyce had worked long and hard to pull the programme into shape. "That's OK, I'm excited to be here too!" she kindly offered a lone applauder after her first song, turning a potential irritant into a seal of her long-standing rapport with the Wigmore audience.
Though Joyce lavished equal care and commitment on every song, there was little in the rest of the material to suggest its obscurity was undeserved. The arie antiche of Durante, Caccini, Rossi, et al are no doubt better known to voice students than audiences and long may it remain so. Joyce's immaculate technique, intelligent phrasing and natural warmth gave them every chance, but it was all as wasted as singing lessons on Jimmy Osmond. They didn't seem to draw the best from her voice, either. Perhaps it was just an extended warming-up issue, but initially her usually liquid tone was unpleasantly harsh-edged, slow to respond and occasionally short-breathed. Rossini obviously weaved some kind of spell and she finished the first half in easy, honeyed style.
The second half though was technically flawless. Swapping the crystal-trimmed sky blue Grecian gown of the first half (above) for strapless teal and black taffeta (below), Joyce tackled the limp poetry and Puccini-esque pomp of four songs by the notorious Fascist apologist Francesco Santoliquido with a conviction that the commonplace sentiments and trivial writing didn't deserve. The Ballatella of Jewish-Italian Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco provided a political counterbalance at least, but along with a handful of other forgettable songs from composers of a similar vintage, failed to raise the musical standards much.
The cheese course was perhaps the most satisfying, with Buzzi-Peccia's Lolita (or Pavarotti's Lolita as I prefer to think of it) kicking off an exotic selection that included a French serenade from Leoncavallo and a Canto arabo by Barbara Giuranna. Many singers get develop an embarrassing stiff upper lip when Latin passion is called for, but not the uninhibited Joyce. Her rhythmic precision and sensitively-wielded dynamic shading allows her to approach the material with the playfulness it requires. David Zobel's generously understated accompaniment here as throughout the evening provided a sturdy backbone.
The best, as so often, came with the encores. Voi che sapete, for which Joyce donned a "necessary" bow tie and a rondo from La donna del lago finally provided Joyce with some clearly-drawn musical characterisation on which to work her magic.
Listen to Joyce discuss the music with Radio 3's In Tune (until Monday).
The programme:
Durante Danza, danza, fanciulla gentile Pergolesi Se tu m'ami Caccini Amarilli mia bella Rossi Mio ben, teco il tormento Paisiello Nel cor piu non mi sento Rontani Or ch'io non sequo più Beethoven Hoffnung Op. 82 No. 1, Liebes-Klage Op. 82 No. 2, L’amante impatiente Op. 82 No. 3, L’amante impatiente Op. 82 No. 4, La partenza WoO124 Rossini Willow Song from 'Otello' Santoliquido L'assiolo canta, Alba di luna sul bosco, Tristezza crepuscolare, L'incontro Pizzetti Ocsuro è il ciel Toselli Serentata Donaudy O del mio amato bene Castelnuovo-Tedesco La Pastorella Ballatella Buzzi-Peccia Lolita, Serenata Spagnola Leoncavallo Serenata Francese Giuranna Canto Arabo Di Chiara La Spagnola Encores: Rossini Giusto cielo from 'Maometto Secondo' Mozart Voi che sapete from 'Le Nozze di Figaro' Rossini Tanti affetti from 'La donna del lago'
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Il Barbiere di Siviglia Metropolitan Opera, 31 October 2009
Can the Met please everyone at once? Come to that, can it please anyone?
I found Bartlett Sher's Il Barbiere di Siviglia beyond conservative, sitting comfortably within the tradition of tradition the Met is famous for. Not just the generic theatrical-historical costumery but the unfunny, old-fashioned, overstated gesticulation and buffoonery. Barbiere is a comedy, but the characters are not in on the joke. When they act with anything less than deadly seriousness, the show simply falls flat, as this one did all too frequently. (Maurizio Benini's over-polished conducting didn't help on that score either.) A stage director (Kathleen Smith Belcher) was credited, but did she do anything more than shove the singers into the correct position?
But a 25-year Met veteran I spoke to found it "modern" and "trashy". "Where is Seville?" he asked. He expected to see a lavishly reproduced simulacrum of olde-Spain. Instead there was a platform tower, a few orange trees and a handful of freestanding doors, all wheeled around by costumed stagehands. And perhaps as a nod to the past, a reluctant donkey.
I'm not sure who the production is aimed at, but landing in-between intelligent musical theatre (like Covent Garden's Leiser and Caurier production) and the singing picture approach leaves few satisfied - a mistake apparently repeated with the Met's recent Tosca. It's not pulling the customers in either - there were a surprising number of empty seats for this Saturday matinee.
Of course this is above all a singers' opera, and there were no real complaints on that account. Franco Vassallo's rambunctious Figaro and John Del Carlo pompous Bartolo hit the button, though Roberto Scandiuzzi's Don Basilio was a caricature too far.
But Joyce DiDonato's perky Rosina was the predictable standout. Despite Benini's zippy tempos, her coloratura was effortless and precise, and she pinged out those top notes like pearls. Barry Banks, several distracting inches shorter than DiDonato in her piled up Bette Midler wig, never seemed the Almaviva of her dreams. His runs are smudgy at speed, but his bright, nasal, uningratiating tone cuts easily through the auditorium. He gets bonus points for not just tackling the fearsome cabaletta to Cessa di più resistere, but pretty much nailing it.
******* more photos on next page *******
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Il Signor Bruschino and La Scala di Seta - British Youth Opera - Peacock Theatre, 8 September 2009
The word 'youth' has its own special meaning in the world of classical music. Its upper boundaries often extend far beyond what any normal person would consider young. 30-ish? Try a 'youth' orchestra for size. Pushing 40? You can still pay 'youth' prices for concerts in Salzburg or Boston. And a 'young' tenor means anyone under 50. Basically if you've still got your own teeth, you're in.
British Youth Opera don't push it quite that far, but it's not packed with peachy-cheeked 19 year olds either. Most of the singers in this Rossini double-header were still students, but many, according to the programme bios, are on their second or third degree. And about as British as the average Chelsea player, too.
Spot on with the 'Opera' bit though.
When Rossini composed the two one-acters on show, he was younger than most of this cast. Both follow a plot Rossini was to return to time and again - threatened with an arranged marriage, the spunky heroine and her cunning lover outwit their bumbling elders and end up together, happy ever after. The music too shows all the signs of his mature style - no real showstoppers, but bags of wit and invention and sunny good humour. Only a terminal Rossini-hater could fail to come out smiling. It's a pity their awkward length (around 90 minutes a piece, no breaks) makes them difficult to package as a standard night at the opera.
They shared a low-budget set of plain white steps and drapes. This worked better for the drawing-room setting of Il Signor Bruschino than for La Scala di Seta, where the titular silken ladder leading to the heroine's bedroom was confusingly substituted by a red carpet - though hiding the multiple eavesdroppers behind empty picture frames was a genius touch.
Everything seemed fanatically well-prepared, packed with detail (though sometimes distractingly so) and the standard of performance was high. No new Pavarottis, but easily the equal of many regional or touring casts. The standout for me was Natalia Romaniw (the Welsh entrant in this summer's Cardiff Singer of the World contest). Despite being one of the youngest on stage, she was a confident, sassy heroine in La Scala di Seta.
Southbank Sinfonia provided able and equally youthful musical support - I particularly liked the sparing and inventive harpsichord continuo.
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Il barbiere di Siviglia - Royal Opera House, 4 July 2009 (first night)
What a night!
I won't dwell on Joyce DiDonato's painful accident (see here for the gruesome details). But I will again marvel at her incredible willpower and determination to forge on and deliver an amazing performance, worthy of Rosina herself. She sang just as brilliantly as she did at the final rehearsal, with guts and panache. Moshe Leiser and Patrice Caurier's rigorously choreographed direction placed her every single note in dramatic context - each one of those trills and turns is linked to the action. And she didn't let them down, even in the tempesta scene where she had to swipe all the furniture to the floor in anger - not easy with a crutch in hand.
But it wasn't just Joyce who made the evening so special. It was an incredible performance all round, one of the greatest I can remember at Covent Garden. Perfectly cast, brilliantly sung from top to bottom, played with freshness and precision - and a production which for all its crayon-bright buffoonery digs intelligently right to the heart of the work. And thigh boots too! What more can a girl ask?
Juan Diego Flórez was perfection itself, his Ecco ridente just meltingly delicious, his comic timing superb. And he - deservedly - got the longest ovation I've ever heard for that snake-pit of fiendish coloratura, Cessa di più resistere. Five minutes? I didn't count. So long that Alessandro Corbelli, staying in character as Bartolo, got a few more laughs by checking his watch.
In any other cast, Corbelli and the great Ferruccio Furlanetto would have stolen the show. Corbelli's unbelievably precise patter in Un dottor della mia sorte and his brilliantly-detailed faux-bad singing lesson aria were a masterclass in buffo technique. And his bumbling avuncular characterisation had the great advantage of making the ending far more credible.
It makes me happier to see the name of Ferruccio Furlanetto on a cast list than any number of overpaid divas. His Don Basilio was an awe-inspiring and utterly original creation, bizarre and faintly sinister, sure to give any children lucky enough to attend the show a few bad dreams. His La calunnia - a brilliantly choreographed assault on Bartolo's person and sanity that ended with the lanky Furlanetto's twisted round Corbelli's humpty-dumpty form - was simply one of the greatest performances I've ever seen on stage.
The late sub Pietro Spagnoli was an able and amiable Figaro. The voice is not particularly refined, but it's big and warm, and he held his own amongst his starry colleagues.
His finest moment came early on in the evening. Entering from the back of the auditorium, he made his way down the aisle singing Largo al factotum, pausing here and there to menace the expensively-seated customers with his tools, eliciting a mixture of genuine amusement and nervous smiles. Then - golazo! Was it coincidence, a wager, or is he really chasing that one-star review? - he waved his scissors in the face of Britain's grumpiest opera critic - who is clearly no fan of audience participation. Talk about an f-off glare - I thought I'd die laughing.
Even the smaller parts were brilliantly taken. The prosthetically-enhanced Jennifer Rhys-Davies was hilarious as Berta, though the ending of her aria shouldn't be nearly as funny as the directors make it. She is after all singing about how love has passed her by, one of the few moments where emotional truth pierces through the rigid stylisation the opera owes to its French origins in the drama of Beaumarchais. And Changhan Lim really made a mark as Fiorello - he can sing (a strong, warm baritone), he can act, and, importantly, he didn't look outclassed sharing a stage with Juan Diego Flórez.
Finally, Tony Pappano, managing both the orchestra and the harpsichord continuo (how did he find the time to rehearse with everything he's been doing recently?) practically reinvented the score. Light, witty, fresh, perfectly balanced, and as minutely detailed as the production itself. It's one of the finest things he's ever done at Covent Garden. At last we could hear what Beethoven raved about.
***** MANY more photos on the next page ******
Continue reading "Il barbiere di Siviglia at the Royal Opera House - opening night report" »
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There were tears all round when Simon Keenlyside pulled out of the Royal Opera House's forthcoming Il barbiere di Siviglia. But on the showing of today's dress rehearsal, I don't think many will be disappointed by his replacement, Pietro Spagnoli.
His Figaro is a broad-brush portrayal, in keeping with Leiser and Caurier's cartoony production. Spagnoli is a generous performer with a big voice and great comic timing. He's a less than central presence most of the time, but who wouldn't be when sharing the stage with Joyce DiDonato, Juan Diego Flórez, Alessandro Corbelli and the great Ferruccio Furlanetto (an alarmingly creepy Don Basilio)? All on top form I should add.
JDF especially. His singing has a range of colour and expression I haven't heard from him before - if he can manage another Cessa di più resistere like today's, he won't be allowed home without an encore. And he has blossomed into a fine comic actor, at last playing to his colleagues instead of the audience. He didn't put a foot wrong. His drunken soldier and upright singing teacher were beautifully detailed.
Detail was a hallmark of the production this time round. Leiser and Caurier have clearly thought and rehearsed every move through. Comedy needs serious preparation. I seem to recall a few longueurs and some over-the-top caricaturing when this production first appeared. All gone. It is simply funnier than it has any right to be.
Pappano, playing the harpsichord continuo as well as conducting, is completely on their wavelength - light, nuanced, alert.
Even better than La traviata. Yes, really.
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Ermione - Royal Festival Hall, 28 March 2009
Ermione is not quite the rarity that this concert's publicity suggested. Scattered recordings and the odd staging prove that.
But it wasn't hard to see why it's usually passed over in favour of Rossini's better-known works. Innovations like the choral overture have novelty on their side but not much else. Amongst the formulaic chirruping there lurk a few good tunes, but no great ones. The plot is strong (it's lifted from Racine's Andromaque), but Rossini doesn't manage to wrestle it to the ground and pummel it into shape. So the first act huffs and puffs without going anywhere, and the abrupt ending in death and madness feels like a cop-out.
So, like Matilde di Shabran, it's one of those works that needs staggeringly good singers to bring it alive.
Well, it got one, anyway - Colin Lee. He still looks like the chartered accountant he once was, but his vocal agility and phenomenal accuracy put him up there with Juan Diego Flórez. As Ermione's spurned lover, Oreste, driven to murder by her impossible demands, he gave it everything in a truly impassioned performance. Outstanding, and the packed, enthusiastic audience gave him the lengthy ovation he deserved.
Bülent Bezdüz provided the JDF (pre-rhinoplasty) looks and some stylish, ardent singing in the small role of Pilade. Like Colin Lee, he made it all sound easy.
Carmen Giannattasio's Ermione was pretty good too. The dramatic part of the role gave her no problems - gelosia and vendetta spat out in every syllable. But the voice is a little heavy for the rapid coloratura, which sounded effortful and sometimes even panicky. It was a problem shared by the all-too-stolid Paul Nilon as Pirro, too - every note was accurate, but hauled laboriously into place.
Patricia Bardon was an odd choice for Andromaca, the target of Ermione's spite and envy. There's no question about her abilities, but the voice is simply too deep and sultry, and again, too slow-moving to sparkle in this repertoire.
The London Philharmonic were clearly well-rehearsed, but David Parry's spun-out phrasing and thick vibrato left the music earth-bound where it should have soared. The Geoffrey Mitchell Choir though were excellent, really alert and co-ordinated, and their diction was faultless.
There seems to be a ready market for second-string Rossini, so I suspect more is on its way. But as with any music, the less polish there is in the writing, the more there needs to be in the performance, and this one didn't quite get all the way there.
Paul Nilon and Carmen Giannattasio:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~flip page for more photos~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Continue reading "Rossini's Ermione - medium rare or well-done?" »
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Cecilia Bartoli / Sergio Ciomei "Soirée Rossiniana" - Barbican, 17 December 2008
Rossini La regata veneziana - Three songs in Venetian dialect; Bellini L’Abbandono, Il fervido desiderio, Vaga Luna, La Farfalletta, Dolente immagine, Malinconia, ninfa gentile, Ma rendi pur contento; Rossini Or che di fiori adorno, Beltà crudele, Canzonetta spagnuola, La danza; Donizetti Il barcaiolo, Amore e morte, La conocchia, Me voglio fà‘na casa; Rossini Ariette à l’ancienne, L’Orpheline du Tyrol, La grande coquette; Viardot Havanaise, Hai luli!; García Yo que soy contrabandista; Malibran Rataplan
Encores: Ernesto de Curtis Ti voglio tanto bene; Montsalvatge Canto Negro; Ernesto de Curtis Non ti scordar di me
This is fast becoming a regular annual date. If it's December, it must be Cecilia Bartoli time at the Barbican.
With no new album to promote this year, she chose instead a selection of salon music that she's sung for years. Her frocks too were old favourites - for the second half the thrifty Ceci wore the same red dress as last year, and before the break the same design in blue. And why not? Getting more from ur couture is a lesson every diva should learn in these creditcrunchy times.
Her accompaniment was economical as well - just the sweet cuddly pianist Sergio Ciomei. Did she bring her own sandwiches too? A flourish of twinkly diamonds proved she's hardly down to her last pennies though.
The songs were drawn largely from Rossini's Péchés de vieillesse, a huge collection of piano and vocal music he wrote after retiring from opera. (The piano works too will surprise anyone who thinks they 'know' Rossini - many have moments of greater 'orchestral' invention than the often hurriedly-written operas). Mr and Mrs Rossini hosted sparkling soirées where they would regale lucky guests with this music in a convivial atmosphere of food, drink and song.
The songs may not be of the very first rank: as with bel canto opera, the texts often let them down and the harmonic progression can be pedestrian. But La Ceci treated every one like a favourite child, with love and tenderness, its character proudly displayed, its flaws utterly denied. Beaming at the audience, sensitive to every slight lapse in attention, every degree of response, she radiated the sheer joy of performing.
The electrifying coloratura of songs like La farfalletta and the tarantella La danza predictably generated the most ecstatic audience response. Cecilia Bartoli still has no peer in this - the grace, the agility, the effortlessness are beyond mere mortals.
But in dramatic narrative like the three songs of La regata veneziana, where a gondolier's girlfriend urges him to race victory, she did more - totally inhabiting the songs - she was that girl at the canalside, egging him on. And all without any unmusical effects - the line was beautiful and musically shaped.
Humour is perhaps her greatest strength. Not many classical musicians can make songs funny - even when they're written with that purpose in mind. But La Ceci's naturally sunny personality combines with wit and timing to devastating effect. Could there be anything sillier than the rolled Rs of Malibran's Rataplan? And could anyone else make them sound like the crowning peak of comedic genius?
Although she (sweetly) checked her running order with a piano-top copy of the same programme that was handed out free to the audience, her preparation was immaculate, and made everything sound like the innovation of a moment. As Sir John Tomlinson once said about rehearsing, "get it right until you can't get it wrong" and anything is possible.
Anyone who's ever nit-picked her recordings needs to get out more. Heard live, her charisma and spontaneous joy and embedded musicality create an experience 1000% greater than any recording. She simply personifies the argument that in the face of CDs, DVDs, films, downloads, streaming, whatever - live performance will never die.
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Matilde di Shabran - Royal Opera House, 6 November 2008
My third and last visit to this production. And possibly - who knows? - the last time I'll ever see it. Until the trees start sprouting tenorinos, it's an opera that needs nothing less than Mr Rossini Pants himself, Juan Diego Flórez, not to mention the equally gifted soprano that Aleksandra Kurzak has provided here.
It's fascinating to see how performances change from night to night.
This was the eighth, and the acting, particularly from JDF, was so much more assured than it had been earlier. Just little things, an angry glance, a simpering smile, these made all the difference. Sadly he again sounded rather tired and weedy in the first act, just as he had on the opening night.
But Alfonso Antoniozzi (Isidoro) and Carlo Lepore (Ginardo) were more on the mark vocally than either of the previous performances I heard. Antoniozzi has had a rough ride from the critics. It's true his singing is far from spot-on, but in many ways he held the show together with his exquisitely-timed comedy. And it's only fair to point out he got a huge ovation from the audience each night.
Not that front row guest the inscrutable Mr Hytner seemed to care one way or the other. No expression whatsoever. And he never made it back for the second act - who knows why. Carlo Rizzi's conducting perhaps? It was the most disappointing part of the evening, seemingly careless more often than not, and frequently drowning out the singers. Perhaps the weeks of endless tiddlypom have finally taken their toll.
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Matilde di Shabran - Royal Opera House, 27 October 2008
Matilde di Shabran may not be a great opera, but the performances alone made it worth a second visit. When again will we get the chance to catch Juan Diego Flórez, unquestionably the world's finest tenore di grazia doing what he does best, and doing it for three hours no less?
And tonight JDF was firing on all cylinders. No trace of the illness or tiredness or whatever that had slightly flawed his first night performance. Just endless yards of scintillating fioritura and sky high top notes casually popped out, no effort at all. Even suspended from the rattling banisters with Carlo Rizzi's orchestra racing away a naughty half beat ahead, he made it look easy. Though with, again, a section of the audience applauding him simply for coming on stage, the crowd was never going to be that hard to please.
Aleksandra Kurzak and Vesselina Kasarova had another terrific night. Kasarova's idiosyncrasies are never going to be to everyone's taste, but Aleksandra Kurzak's charm had the audience eating from the palm of her hand. "I think I'm in love" sighed the gentleman behind me.
Marco Vinco's sonorous Aliprando aside, the rest of the cast weren't quite up to the mark vocally. But if any opera needs a little comic relief to leaven its dramatic improbabilities and economical scoring it's this one. Alfonso Antoniozzi's Isidoro provided most of the energy and nearly all the laughs on stage. OK, his coloratura was rarely even close to pitch, but parlando and speech were impeccable and, more importantly, funny.
Some reviewers were critical of the chorus streaming on stage via the front row aisles. But from my stage-side perch, all I could see on front row faces was delight. (OK, maybe a little fear too). But it was far more gracefully handled than a similar manoeuvre in the National Theatre's current Oedipus - and looked fresher too.
This may be a less than a perfect production of a less than perfect opera, but it's something more than a Juan Diego Flórez star vehicle.
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Matilde di Shabran - Royal Opera House, 23 October 2008 (opening night)
Matilde di Shabran isn't really top drawer Rossini. Dramatically, its three-plus hours alternately drag and baffle as Rossini dawdles through irrelevances and skips key points in the preposterous plot. And Johnny Ramone would have admired its economy of chordage. Although Rossini went back and partially rewrote it after its hurried debut, it's tempting to say he didn't go nearly far enough. No wonder it's such a rarity on the schedules. But, with the right cast, it has enough tonsil-bending coloratura and other vocal Everests to gratify those of us who like that sort of thing. A 'singers opera' in other words.
The star attraction of this production is Juan Diego Flórez, whose stock in London is so high that he got a round of applause simply for walking on stage. (And I do hope that won't become a habit here).
Now, I <3 JDF greatly, but I didn't feel he was on the toppest of form tonight. Not that he did anything wrong - it's just that I've heard him better. Perhaps he was simply, wisely, conserving his fire - Corradino, the comic villain-turned-hero of the piece, is a long, arduous part, and he has five more performances to go.
Anyway, the sound didn't come out with its usual ease, and(surprisingly) lacked projection initially, though he did seem more relaxed and expansive in the second act. To be fair, there were far more pluses than minuses, and I am simply comparing his performance to my expectations of it. His technique is fabulous, and that steel diaphragm of his punched out every rapidfire note with precision.
Strangely (considering what his fame rests on) it was in the lyrical passages that he really convinced, displaying a greater conviction and breadth of palette than I've ever heard from him before.
Aleksandra Kurzak personified the flirtatious, cunning Matilde with charm and wit, skipping up and down double octaves with outrageous insouciance and deadly accuracy. Not hard to believe she could melt the flinty heart of the grouchy Corradino with a few bats of her eyelashes. Bar a couple of screamy moments at the top, this is the best singing I've heard in her several Covent Garden appearances. And she's somehow developed a real star presence, something that draws the eye even when there's competition for attention like Juan Diego Flórez.
Vesselina Kasarova too gave a standout performance. Edoardo is a bizarrely written part, roaming over three octaves, and Kasarova, with her pronounced register breaks and ripe, dusky sound made it seem even odder.
But she brought her own special brand of emotional conviction and outstanding technical control, and made a convincing teenage boy. Her two arias contain some of the opera's most attractive arrangements, including a beautifully-taken horn solo in the second, and one could almost sense the orchestra's relief at the break from the relentless rum-ti-tum.
But Matilde majors on ensemble pieces rather than arias, and it was clear that great attention had been paid to getting these perfectly co-ordinated and balanced. The singers in the minor parts may not have had Florez-standard finesse solo, but in ensemble they were perfect. The chorus too, always reliable anyway, seemed to have a special polish tonight.
Mario Martone's production, imported from the Rossini Festival in Pesaro, is unremarkable but inoffensive - in other words, exactly what's required for this opera.
Some of the performers, notably Alfonso Antoniozzi and his sketchily-sung but waggishly-acted Isidoro, clearly have the acting skillz in spades; others could perhaps have benefitted from more directorial attention in this area.
It seemed Martone's efforts had been focussed on careful blocking around the centrepiece, a (rather noisy) pair of metal spiral staircases - which incidentally had to be rebuilt for the Royal Opera House, as the Italian originals were so heavy they would have bust the ohso delicate English stage. Some of the performers enter the stage via the audience in the stalls - a tired idea in straight theatre perhaps, but something that's rarely done in opera, and it worked well from my perch in the amphitheatre. Some of those in stalls circle right got rather closer to the show than they expected though.
and here's a video from the first outing of this production, in Pesaro 2004 (with Juan Diego Flórez in top form):
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Jette Parker Young Artists Summer Concert - Royal Opera House 20 July 2008
The buffet table and french windows of the Nozze di Figaro set made their final outing of the season at this year's Jette Parker Young Artists Summer Concert. This gives the singers on the Royal Opera House's two year training programme the chance to display their talents in a more substantial way than the third-bloke-on-the-left type parts they get to play for the rest of the year.
The partly-staged programme (which must be a nightmare to concoct) cleverly balanced extracts from three operas to give each of the ten singers a reasonably equal opportunity to shine. The last act of Figaro was set as a modern country hotel wedding. Strauss's Capriccio became an oddly effective blend of Viennese salon and Robert Evans pool party, and the cantata from Rossini's Il viaggio a Reims was done as a concert piece, in the sometimes distracting Capriccio costumes.
Jacques Imbrailo really stood out. It wasn't just his rich, velvety baritone. His polish and assurance made him seem the only finished article amongst the varying degrees of work in progress displayed by the others.
In Figaro, his Count was every bit the masterful seigneur, and as Olivier in the Capriccio extract too, his assured presence dominated. Not a crack, not a flaw.
The warmth and charm of Kishani Jayasinghe's beautifully sung Susanna was another highlight. A few minutes on stage in a twenty minute extract is perhaps not long enough for even a seasoned professional to establish a rounded characterisation. So it remains to be seen whether she has more than a winning smile and a knowing wink in her arsenal - enough in other words to sustain interest for the entire length of an opera.
Pumeza Matshikiza's Barbarina on the other hand was a detailed and in many ways more convincing portrayal. It was a shame she was let down here and there by wayward vocals. The contrastingly cool poise of the Countess in Capriccio came as easily to her as Barbarina's vivacity, though again the voice wasn't always on a tight rein.
Monika-Evelin Liiv made the oddest Cherubino I have ever seen, and not just because of the Ali G costume. Threatening, physically aggressive and decidedly unsympathetic, it was a far cry from the sweet muddled boy of the typical production. She seemed more at home as the jaded actress of Capriccio, a better match too for her soaring mezzo.
Embryo barihunk Kostas Smoriginas explored a most welcome career direction, wandering around in his underpants as Capriccio's Count, then ripping his shirt open in gratuitous (and, sweetly, everso slightly embarrassed) fashion as Rossini's Spanish hottie Don Alvaro. Moar!!!
Haoyin Xue and Anita Watson got their best runout as the Italian singers in Capriccio, got up like a hipswinging Elvis impersonator and a boozy floozy Marilyn Monroe lookalike. Xue flashed out some impressive fioritura in the Rossini too.
Krzysztof Szumanski was at his powerful best as Rossini's Baron, and Ji-Min Park's beautiful singing impressed throughout, but especially in the relatively small part of Figaro's Don Basilio.
One thing surprised me about this concert. With top price tickets 'only' £32 (cheap by ROH standards) I'm not surprised that many people decided they could afford the poshest seats, and these were pretty much 100% full. But the lowest priced seats, some as cheap as £2, remained virtually empty. Could it be that if the price is next-to-nothing, people think the value is negligible too?
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Juan Diego Flórez / Rizzi / Orchestra of Welsh National Opera - Barbican, 12 July 2008
Bellini Norma: Sinfonia
Bellini I Puritani: Ah te, o cara
Rossini Semiramide: Sinfonia
Rossini La Donna del lago: Tu sorda a miei lamenti
Rossini William Tell: Overture
Rossini William Tell: Asile héréditaire
Donizetti Lucrezia Borgia: Partir degg’io, T’amo qual s’ama un angelo
Donizetti Don Pasquale: Sinfonia
Donizetti La favorite : La maîtresse du roi
Donizetti La fille du régiment: Sinfonia
Donizetti La fille du régiment: Amici miei
Juan Diego Flórez - half man, half cheese, half toothpaste, and tonight, for one night only, half phlegm.
It all started off so well. The hall was packed to the rafters, with the audience including Barbican regular Dame Vivienne Westwood, resplendent in grey marl sack dress with matching knee socks and beanie over her long apricot hair.
JDF was in fine voice for the first half, with an ever-increasing range of colour now appearing in his laser-bright sound. The breath control was immaculate, the long final lines of Asile héréditaire floated out on an invisible support. Like the old skool, he seems to have gills for lungs. Nothing moves, nothing sounds, he just inhales as if by magic. Only a more contained posture and a faintly rough halo to his tone hinted at any problem - and even then, I assumed he was just being a bit slow to warm-up.
And with Carlo Rizzi's WNO Orchestra behind (JDF's backing band moves up a class each time I see him), even the usually grin'n'bear it inter-aria overtures were delivered with a style that would have outclassed a lesser tenor.
But he began to slip in earnest at the start of the all-Donizetti second half. When he clutched his throat at the end of Partir degg’io and looked up puppy-eyed at Rizzi, I assumed it was just penalty box theatrics to explain a little novelty intonation that cropped up here and there.
But when he failed to reappear on stage after the orchestra's Don Pasquale overture, it was clear that something more serious was up. Eventually Rizzi was called off the stage, and we sat waiting for a good five minutes wondering what was going on.
They reappeared eventually, and JDF explained that he had a frog in his throat, 'a little phlegm', but that he'd try and carry on without 'you know' (looking at the front row and making a spraying gesture, to much laughter).
As he soldiered on with La maîtresse du roi, the raspy edge and hollow lower notes proved the problem was serious. What's more, it seemed to drain Flórez of energy.
Part of the joy of any JDF performance is the enthusiasm and love of the music that radiates from him like sunbeams. But here, suddenly he looked as if he wanted to go home right now, not a minute later. He managed to struggle through somehow, and return for Amici miei - money notes intact, but understandably ragged in places elsewhere.
After that, I really didn't expect anything more, though I'm sure I wasn't the only person willing the poor sick lamb to belt out a few encores regardless of any medical issues.
So I was surprised when he returned on stage after a massive ovation to announce that they'd prepared something from L'Elisir d'Amore 'with lots of decorations, like the CD' but couldn't manage it - so instead they'd do the cabaletta of Cessa di più resistere from Il Barbiere di Siviglia - because it has 'lots of coloraturas' and we wouldn't notice any mistakes (!) - and maybe something else too later. JDF said he'd been in a hot shower, and apologised again to the front row for the 'various fluids' that might land (more lols). He tried hard, but it was far from his finest performance of this testing piece, so it was no surprise we never got the second encore.
I can't help but be disappointed that it wasn't quite the phenomenal recital I expected, but credit is due to Juan Diego Flórez for trying his best not to disappoint his audience. Meanwhile, here's hoping JDF wraps up warm and doesn't snog any germy sopranos before Matilde di Shabran opens at the Royal Opera House in October.
And here is a vid of JDF singing Cessa di più resistere in healthier times:
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La Cenerentola - Royal Opera House, 20 December 2007
I was privileged - or maybe not - for this performance to be seated right over the orchestra pit, at the side of the stage. So for once I could see not only what the orchestra was doing, but also what faces the conductor was pulling. It came of course at the expense of a clear view of the stage, and the orchestral sound was raw. But given that this production's action is concentrated centre stage, and the ensemble is small, these weren't huge disadvantages. I don't think I have ever seen a happier face on a podium than Evelino Pidò's. Even when orchestra and singers slipped momentarily apart, he maintained the manic joy of a cocker spaniel out for walkies, and was rewarded with a brisk and lively response from his players.
Although on this evidence Magdalena Kožená's acting skills hover somewhere around the Jessica Simpson mark, it's not clear to me why reviewers (example) have been so ruthlessly critical of her performance.
She certainly looked the part, all blonde curls and downcast glances. Her perpetual goggle eyed bafflement wasn't always the right fit dramatically, but at least it supplied the endearing charm that Cenerentola requires. And her singing was one liquid ribbon of exquisite silvery sound - too languid to be truly Italianate but beautiful all the same. Non piu mesta seemed like hard work, but she got through it cleanly, if rather coolly. She's told interviewers that Rossini is not a favourite of hers -- that much was obvious from the detachment of her performance -- but it was no disaster, and I suspect that supplied with more direction she could have delivered a more credible performance.
Toby Spence was more convincing as a rather earnest Don Ramiro. His voice has more muscle than flexibility, and the coloratura was effortful, but he did (just about) manage all the high C's in Si, ritrovarla io giuro.
Ranked against Covent Garden's last Don Ramiro, the phenomenal Juan Diego Flórez, of course he doesn't measure up, but then who would? The only part of Spence's performance which really didn't work was the opening to Zitto, zitto, piano, piano, taken so quietly that it was literally inaudible - and I was only a few feet away.
Simone Alberghini's Dandini, more of a confidant than a servant, was a splendid foil. His performance was all the more credible for the subtlety of distinction between his disguised and real personas. Considering he'd only joined as a late stand-in for the sick Stéphane Degout he slotted in remarkably well with the tricky vocal ensembles and this production's fussy blocking.
Alessandro Corbelli displayed immaculate comic timing and technique as the grasping Don Magnifico, though at times so manically underlined it was as if he'd wandered in from a different production. Elena Xanthoudakis and Leah-Marian Jones were endearingly repulsive as his daughters, and served up some of the best singing of the night.
The production's updating of the action to the 1950's is not simply an excuse for lurid costumery and a splendid Bugatti to serve as Cenerentola's coach. The outmoded notion of social advancement through marriage took on a more modern economic emphasis in Don Magnifico's dilapidated home. Don Ramiro managed his staff rather than ruling them, and Dandini was his master's quick-witted equal.
Frustratingly, the more controversial ideas, when the otherwise amiable buffoon Don Magnifico physically beats Cenerentola, then feels up the two sisters later, formed odd and uncomfortable punctuations rather than properly explored themes. The sparsely furnished sets, too, seemed unfinished rather than intentionally spare. It was as if time, money and inspiration had all fizzled out in the home straight. Only the eternal and unrelenting vitality of the music papered over the cracks.
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Il Turco in Italia - Bayerische Staatsoper, Prinzregententheater, Munich, 29 July 2007
(Münchner Opernfestspiele 2007)
This was the first time I'd been to an opera at 11 in the morning - and Sunday morning at that. The start time led to some dress code confusion. Quite a few were in their regular opera wear - which in Munich includes full evening dress. Elsewhere there were sports sandals and polo shirts.
Perhaps it wasn't so surprising the orchestra started rather sluggishly. As the production started to get the laughs it was seeking, things picked up musically.
Christof Loy's setting is contemporary, but other than that, there's no grand production concept. A series of detailed visual gags supplement the comedy of Rossini's opera. The best set piece was the opening one. It's set in a gypsy camp, here interpreted as a small modern caravan, which aided by a concealed trapdoor spilled out an endless stream of people.
Later on, the Turk of the title entered on a flying carpet. Doors opened in the painted landscape backdrop to reveal a cocktail cabinet. The burly male chorus pranced around the party scene in elegant ballgowns. Trousers were ripped off to reveal boxing shorts. It was that sort of production. And it was rounded off with some heavy-duty hamming from the cast.
The story is a simple one. A Turk arrives in Italy, and has to choose between the affections of the flirtatious housewife Fiorilla, and his former lover, now living with the gypsies, Zaida. It's complicated by competition for Fiorialla from her husband and her current lover, and by an interfering poet, Prosdocimo, who is trying to manipulate events so that he can write a play around them.
Fiorilla (Alexandrina Pendatchanska) gets some very tricky coloratura, which she dispatches competently enough, but mostly without the consonants which would make it intelligible. Her delivery is effortful, and her very wide vibrato grated after a while, but she went down well with the audience.
David Alegret as her lover Narciso was the sole tenor of the piece. He has a light, rather reedy sound well suited to the part, but unfortunately it didn't always carry well, even in the small Prinzregententheater.
Roberto De Candi as Prosdocimo was a Schubert lookalike with an agile bass, and a natural comic able to raise a laugh simply by the way he walked on to the stage.
The Turk, Selim, was played by one of the few Italians on the stage, Simone Alaimo. Like Carlos Chausson as Geronio, he wrung every drop of humour out of his part. They took advantage of their age and portliness with some ridiculous posturing in their squabbling over Fiorilla. Chausson's immaculate quickfire aria O sorte deplorabile deservedly got a huge ovation.
Despite being cruelly wrenched from my bed at an unearthly 9.30 (hey, it's Sunday), I was kept not only awake but smiling. And I didn't even realise I'd missed lunch till the show was over. Not a bad way to pass a Sunday morning.
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