Intermezzo

ENO cut prices again

Once again ENO have slashed prices on their slow-selling shows. Is is worth paying full price for anything at the Coliseum any more I wonder?

If their pig's ear of a Turandot appeals, TicketMaster are offering £74 tickets reduced to £25 each, or £59 tickets reduced to £15 (plus £2.50 handling fee). Book online here. Use the Ticketdeals Partner Offer section (not the main section above it), entering the password TMDEAL in the box.

For the infinitely more recommendable The Turn of the Screw, a promotion in Satan's bumwipe aka Metro newspaper reduces dress circle and upper circle tickets to £15 each (plus £1.50 transaction fee). Book online here, entering the code TURNMET in the discount box at the top of the booking confirmation page.

more booing at the Met?

Reader Thomas listened to the Sirius broadcast of the Met's first Turandot of the season - the same performance I attended last week. He asks why I didn't mention the "loud boos for Marcello Giordani" which were apparently audible on the broadcast.

The answer is that radio broadcasts can manipulate and distort the relative dynamics of live sound - singers who are inaudible in the house come across as hefty-voiced, and crystalline orchestration turns to mud. I've heard enough Proms broadcasts afer attending the live event to know that the two can be very different. What's more, misguided or sometimes just mistimed commentary can mislead too - I don' t know if that was the case here.

So while I don't doubt for a moment that Thomas heard loud booing for Giordani on Sirius, it didn't sound that way in the house.

Here's what actually went down. At the first act curtain call, Giordani, Poplavskaya and Ramey came out together, hand in hand. There was some isolated but vehement booing from somewhere at the back. I would guess maybe only two people, and close together. Booing, like heckling, takes minimal firepower to cut through applause. With big lungs, even a solitary booer can make his presence felt. I've heard widespread booing in the past (any new German production is an inevitable recipient) and it sounds quite different - it just fills the house.

I don't know who the shouting was targeted at, either. Giordani didn't give a particularly enthusiastic performance, and his low notes just disappeared. But then Poplavskaya and Ramey, who were more committed to their roles, had technical issues - tuning for her, vibrato for him. None of them were terrible, but none were perfect - the boos could have been directed at any or perhaps all of them.

I listened closely for boos at subsequent curtain calls, and didn't catch any. If there was more, it wasn't loud enough to reach my ears. I concluded that probably a pair of particularly exacting operagoers had a bad day and a couple of drinks too many before the show.

So no need for Mr Gelb to set up an inquisition this time round.

Turandot at the Met - Lise Lindstrom goes chopping

Turandot - Metropolitan Opera New York, 28 October 2009

I caught Lise Lindstrom's Met debut and you didn't. With the house's resident screamer Maria Guleghina out with a cold, 'B' cast Lindstrom was brought in to make her first Met appearance a few days earlier than scheduled. She's played Turandot to great acclaim around Europe recently; this was New York's chance to see what all the fuss was about.

Did she nail it - yes she did! One could quibble whether her voice is the biggest or the best or the most beautiful, but its silvered laser is perfect for the role. And it's accurately pitched without a hint of wobble, indecently flexible and never showed any sign of strain. Within the limits of the ancient Zeffirelli production, which seems to have been choreographed rather than directed, she gave a more than acceptable dramatic performance too, cold and brittle to begin with, melting at the end.

Points must be deducted for her reaction to the warm applause she received at the second act curtain call. In conduct unbecoming a diva, she acted like she'd gone through to the next round of American Idol.

The audience seemed to enjoy the gushing and arm-waving. But then they'd not only applauded the Act 2 scenery (like a gladiator bathhouse from a gay p0rno) but also prematurely ovated on several occasions, ejaculating all over bars and bars of Maestro Nelsons' lovingly detailed score. There was even one knob who yelled out "Viva Puccini" before the Alfano completion started up

What a change from Ed Gardner's rampant decibels at the ENO last week. Nelsons - another Met debutant tonight - never took an extreme path, but subtly highlighted the music's complex layering, teasing out lines I'd never really heard before. And he paced it beautifully, never losing momentum, but not tempted to race either. No conductor is ever remembered for the greatness of their Turandot, but still, it's a tough test. I could see his score from where I was sitting - carefully marked up, and heavily rumpled, as if it had been dropped in the bath then left to dry. Clearly he's been doing his homework.

Vulnerability and determination were convincingly combined in Marina Poplavskaya's Liù. Not easy to pull off but she did it. Pitching issues (worse than usual tonight) and a desperately thin top detract, but not as much as they might with some other singers. Her musicality and conviction and sheer charisma carry her a long way.

Good old reliable Marcello Giordani was the unexciting Calaf. Moving lumpishly as if he'd had no rehearsals whatsoever (which may of course be the case) and mumbling through his lower register, he nevertheless managed to pull together some impressively ringing top notes. Nessun dorma of course brought the house down - some classy Bs the trigger. But for me the effect was diminished by having heard Pavarotti tackle it in the Met shop before the show. There's efficiency and then there's magic.

 

more photos tomorrow...........maybe.......if I can be........zzzzzzz........

it's a Turandot sort of a week

Antony Hegarty does something peculiar to Nessun dorma at the request of an Italian coffee company. I'm not sure if it's better than Rupert Goold's Turandot - but it is at least shorter.  

ENO £10 ticket offer

In conjunction with the Evening Standard, ENO are once again offering tickets reduced to £10, this time for a revival of David McVicar's The Turn of the Screw (highly recommended) and Rupert Goold's new Turandot (for £10 and for curiosity value, worth a shot).

Go here to book.

(thanks Howard for the tip)

ENO's Turandot flamed, grilled and roasted

Turandot - English National Opera, 16 November 2009

Even the uniformly negative reviews didn't prepare me for the sheer amateurishness of Rupert Goold's new production.

Sure, the glossy Chinese gastropalace and its population of post-modern archetypes look good in pics. That's because the designs are imaginative and meticulously executed. Even if we’ve seen some of the ideas before – the last act’s tiled kitchen from Goold’s Macbeth, the animal masks and typeface projections from his Enron, to name a couple – they’re still original enough to constitute an aesthetic rather than a shortage of ideas.

The problem is they're nothing more than an artsy backdrop to some decidedly old-fashioned stand and deliver action. Goold is used to working with the likes of Michael Gambon and Patrick Stewart. Here he’s saddled with a genre of performers for whom acting skills are a helpful bonus, not than a job requirement. That’s not to say that this cast are bad actors, just that they’re typical singers, and they need more direction than they’ve received here to bring out their best. The principals are left pretty much to their own devices. Amanda Echalaz as Liù reprised the memorable drug-addled victim of her OHP Un ballo in maschera. Kirsten Blanck (Turandot) has clearly seen a few Siouxsie videos. Gwyn Hughes Jones (Calaf) just wanders round in his cheap mac like a lost tourist.

The individually-costumed and fussily-blocked chorus and the superfluous dancers are more of a distraction than a compensation. Perhaps he’s trying to say that even people who consider themselves individuals can become complicit in a murderous regime. Whatever. That’s a side dish – it’s not what Turandot is about. When it comes to telling the real story, what Goold serves up is a concert performance in cool frocks.

The only character Goold shows much interest in is one he's grafted on. 'The Writer' - presumably a reflection of Puccini - is an irritating silent witness and occasional participant. He scribbles away in a book until bloodily despatched at Turandot's command towards the end - not uncoincidentally, at the point Puccini stopped writing. His book is picked up by a pig-headed dancer who writes the last few pages. You couldn't offer a clearer opinion of Alfano’s completion than that, but did we really have to suffer the previous hour and half to get there? To most operagoers, whether they like Turandot or not, Puccini's failure to complete it is simply a footnote, but Goold's staging elevates it to the raison d'etre of the entire production.

Relief came only from a handful of sterling vocal performances in the central roles, chief among them Amanda Echalaz’s thrilling Liù.  Gwyn Hughes Jones offered a blank slate of a Calaf, unconvincing in his passion for the ice princess. At least he sang with some ardour and assurance. A more detailed portrayal would make him truly terrific in this part. Kirsten Blanck’s Turandot was heroically powerful, served up in a stern Marlene Dietrich accent with gale force top notes. Benedict Nelson’s Ping was the standout amongst the rest.

Edward Gardner hammered the score into submission as if he was repaying a grudge. It was a loud and dirty fight.

 

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What's on this winter at the Royal Opera House

Barely a week into the new season at Covent Garden, and already we're being asked to whip out our Amexes again, this time for November to March productions. Booking opens this week for those who've paid for the privilege, and next month for the common herd.

Rolando Villazón fights through miles of curtain fabric to reprise his Covent Garden debut role in Les Contes d'Hoffmann. Antonio Pappano conducts the elaborate John Schlesinger production, inching ever closer to its sell-by date. Ekaterina Lekhina (Olympia) is a new name to me, but Gidon Saks, Kristine Jepson and Christine Rice promise sturdy support (photo: Clive Barda).

Rolando also submits to a live interview on 10 November. Space is limited, so early booking advised.

The other star vehicle of the season is a new Tim Albery production of Der fliegende Holländer with (cancelitis permitting) Bryn Terfel in the title role. Anja Kampe makes an overdue ROH debut as Senta. Tickets will be restricted to two per customer for this one.

Britten's The Beggar's Opera pops up in the Linbury Studio. The new production by Justin Way (not by conductor Richard Hickox as the website currently claims - there are limits to his talents) is likely to be popular, so again, early booking advised. The excellent and underused Tom Randle is Macheath.

Also to the Linbury comes the long-overdue London debut of George Benjamin's highly-praised ("the most important new opera of the past 25 years") mini-opera Into the Little Hill , coupled with Harrison Birtwistle's Down by the Greenwood Side. The cast includes Susan Bickley and Claire Booth.

The brilliant Willy Decker production of Korngold's Die tote Stadt that I caught in Vienna finally makes its way to London.  Unfortunately Klaus Florian Vogt and Angela Denoke aren't coming with it, but Stephen Gould and Nadja Michael should be a more than passable substitute. And there's the bonus of Gerald Finley in the smaller role of Frank.

David McVicar's t1ts'n'todgers Rigoletto returns with indecent haste. Francesco Meli, Leo Nucci, Ekaterina Siurina and Kurt Rydl are amongst the few cast members who get to keep their clothes on.

Elektra isn't illuminated by Charles Edwards's jumbled production, but with Mark Elder in the pit and a cast that includes Susan Bullock, Anne Schwanewilms, Jane Henschel and Johan Reuter it should at least push some musical buttons.

Even I can't get excited about yet another Turandot revival, but include it for the sake of completeness.

On the ballet side, I have to recommend the triple bill The Seven Deadly Sins / Carmen / DGV: Danse à grande vitesse, especially for the first of these and its wonderful music. Chanteuse Martha Wainwright returns to sing Weill's evocative music, and Zenaida Yanowsky is her dancing doppelganger (photo: John Ross).