The Hungarian Post Office, Magyar Posta, has released 'audible' postage stamps to mark the 200th anniversary of the birth of Richard
Wagner and Giuseppe Verdi.
No, they won't sing to you. But with a smartphone you can read the QR code printed on the stamps. This takes you through to a special section on the Hungarian State Opera House’s web site containing information and recordings.
Snap the QR codes below if you want to listen in without shelling out.
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In the league table of 2013 composer anniversary CD box sets, Wagner and Britten seem to have taken an early lead, with poor old Verdi languishing below in third. There was nothing in the coveted pre-Christmas release slot, but of course now nobody's got any money left the digital tributes are coming thick and fast.
The 4kg box-busting behemoth is Verdi: The Complete Works
For the more pocket-friendly sum of £44, EMI's Verdi - The Great Operas offers his sixteen best-known works, again with first class artists. An economical way to acquire a decent instant Verdi collection should that be your desire, though not everything in there would be my first choice of recording.
A more exotic option is the £22 Flieg Gedanke (Verdi auf Deutsch)
All release dates are January/February 2013 (depending on location). Full tracklistings of all three below.
Alternatively, for zero £££ and no waiting, you could listen to Verdi's entire output - all 90 hours of it - on Spotify. A selective listing here.
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How soon will we all be sick of the bi-bicententennial I wonder? Opera is of course a peripheral activity for the LSO, but they're still doing their bit to celebrate Wagner and Verdi's joint 200th birthday.
Their 2013/14 season opens on 15 September with a concert performance of Rigoletto, conducted by Gianandrea Noseda. The underrated Dimitri Platanias takes the title role, with Desirée Rancatore as Gilda and Giuseppe Filianoti as the Duke.
On 28 November, Schubert's Unfinished Symphony is paired with the second act of Tristan und Isolde. Daniel Harding conducts Katarina Dalayman, Peter Seiffert and Christianne Stotijn. A major influence on Wagner's work was Roméo et Juliette. which turns up on 6 and 13 November with soloists Olga Borodina and Ildar Abdrazakov. Gergiev conducts as part of a Berlioz series running throughout the season.
The LSO's year is otherwise, as you might expect, light on opera, though Mark Elder's extracts from Der Rosenkavalier sung by Anne Schwanewilms, Sarah Connolly and Lucy Crowe should not be missed (8 May 2014).
Full season details to be released later this month.
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La forza del destino - Opera Holland Park, 6 August 2010
Destiny? It's coincidence and misunderstanding that motor this credulity-testing plot. Martin Duncan has opted for a barely-there approach, perhaps hoping to spotlight the personal drama and skim over the rest. The otherwise empty stage is populated with scores of paint-splattered chairs, helpful in delineating the space as chapel or inn where required, a mystifying intrusion elsewhere, especially when suspended jiggling from the roof.
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Don Carlo - National Theatre Munich, 22 July 2010
A sound production, a spectacular cast, a few roast heretics for supper - this could have been the greatest Don Carlo ever. If only they'd rehearsed it. Following an airing in January, Jürgen Rose's ten year old production was revived for just two nights. Some critics complain that Munich's summer opera festival is not imaginative enough, that it doesn't have new productions coming out of its ears like Salzburg's does. But for out-of-towners like me, one of the main attractions is well-cast revivals of old favourites.
However when the most convincing actor on stage is Ramón Vargas, you know you've got problems. The singing was uniformly terrific, but the cast, to a (wo)man, looked as if they'd been shoved on stage and told to get on with it. It didn't help that the temperature outdoors was a muggy 80-plus degrees, and worse inside. In their heavy period costumes, sweat running down their faces, running around the stage was probably the last thing any of them wanted to do.
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Simon Boccanegra - Royal Opera House, 29 June 2010
With Berlin, Milan and New York under his belt, Placido Domingo’s now done enough Boccanegras for everyone to realise that him turning into a true baritone was always about as likely as England getting anywhere in the World Cup. True, he has all the notes, but the tenorial burnish is as it ever was. Interestingly, he only strained (a teeny bit) at the very top of his range - a studied attempt at baritonal authenticity, I wonder?
But this is academic territory. What matters is that regardless of theoretical vocal fit, he gave a truly monumental performance by any standard in the opening night of the Royal Opera House's latest run.
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Continue reading "Simon Boccanegra with Placido Domingo at the Royal Opera House" »
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La Traviata - Royal Opera House, 11 May 2010 (first night)
One big star - step forward Dmitri Hvorostovsky - wasn't quite enough to give make this umpteenth showing of Richard Eyre's gracefully ageing production twinkle quite as brightly as its last two revivals.
Continue reading "La traviata resuscitated at Royal Opera House " »
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Otello - LSO / Davis - Barbican, 3 December 2009
You sneeze, you lose. With Torsten Kerl off sick, the pages of lastminutetenor.com yielded Simon O'Neill. Not the most obvious choice of Otello, even for a concert performance like this one. Indeed you could scour the big Wagnerian's resume and find no mention of Verdi whatsoever. But his bright, hard edged voice proved an excellent fit, and his unfamiliarity with the score was barely noticeable. Now that the role is associated more with darker baritonal tenors like Domingo, the clarity and ease of O'Neill's thrilling top notes hinted at a long-gone golden age. The short-fused Moor's temper flashes perhaps didn't spark quickly enough, but it was impossible not to be moved by Otello's final agonised moments.
The rest of the casting was just as brave, and nearly as successful. The only authentic Italian in the cast was Eufemia Tufano, an understated Emilia. Desdemona's purity and incorruptibility were perfectly evoked in the unearthly silvery soprano of Anne Schwanewilms, even if her delivery was some distance north of Italianate. The London Symphony Chorus trumped her for sheer incomprehensibility though - I didn't catch one single word of their spirited singing all night.
Gerald Finley's intelligently drawn Iago schemed with devious charm. But ultimately he lacks the fundamental heft for this role, as even a golden voice spinning meticulously-crafted phrases cannot conceal. Bantamweight tenors Allan Clayton and Ben Johnson were effective as Cassio and Roderigo, and a trio of magnificent basses - Alexander Tsymbalyuk, Matthew Rose and Lukas Jakobski - rounded off the ensemble.
Sir Colin Davis, we were informed before the concert, has just been awarded the Queen's Medal for Music. Typically, he was keener to get on with the show than acknowledge the predictable ovation. His hard-driven first act lacked a degree of dramatic nuance - when everything's loud, fast and exciting, perversely, nothing is. But with the excess fuel burned off, a more measured approach proved infinitely more compelling. The second half in particular simmered and glowed, sweeping into blazing climaxes, yet eggshell-delicate beneath Desdemona's beautiful Willow Song. A rapturous intensity revealed so many details I'd never noticed before.
A recording will be stitched together from this performance and the repeat on 6 December. Not a purist's Otello perhaps but a vivid reminder that at 82, Sir Colin Davis is still on top of his game.
***** more photos on next page *****
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Don Carlo - Royal Opera House, 27 September 2009 and 18 September 2009
Every singer (except Plácido) gets sick now and again, and I got Jonas Kaufmann for two out of the three Don Carlo performances I went too, plus the rehearsal, so I can't complain too much. It was clear at the time of Kaufmann's restrained, mostly marked rehearsal performance that Don Carlo lies at the limits of his capacities. He was wise not to put his voice in jeopardy by attempting the part in anything less than 100% health.
But I can't deny it was a major disappointment to arrive at the Sunday matinee and find he'd been replaced by Alfred Kim, who'd played the part recently in Oslo. Kim is competent and likeable. He hits all the notes cleanly, projects well, acts industriously, and truth be told has a much more Italianate and objectively appropriate voice for the part than either Kaufmann or his predecessor Rolando Villazón.
But he just didn't possess that elusive factor that catches your eye when someone walks on stage and draws your ear to their every word. It's something to do with singing from inside the role rather than merely playing it, and it excuses all sorts of other issues. It's why every single major opera house rushes round chasing after the same 20 or so singers, why nothing (except the recent Barbiere - a miracle) is ever ideally cast.
Alfred Kim (top) and Jonas Kaufmann (below) with Ferruccio Furlanetto:
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Don Carlo - Royal Opera House, 15 September 2009
It’s little more than a year since the Royal Opera House premiered this production, but already the temperature has dropped a few degrees.
The main reason is Semyon Bychkov. Pappano was all heart; Bychkov is all head. Where Pappano offered untrammelled passion, Bychkov’s Don Carlo is thoughtfully structured, scrupulously detailed and immaculately performed (the last time the ROH played this well was in Lohengrin for – Semyon Bychkov). His weighty attentions serve the music well, the drama less so. The issue isn't the idiosyncratic tempos – sometimes super attenuated, sometimes dangerously pacy. At least these make you listen in a new way.The real problem is a lack of flexibility and dramatic response. The music feels superimposed on the drama, when it should be the other way round. The great Carlos/Posa freedom duet was more dutiful than ardent; Philip’s ruminative Act 4 monologue had the air of a prepared speech. There is much to admire – and to think about - but I rarely felt drawn in.
The other big change is in the title role. Rolando Villazon’s Carlos was an impetuous boy; Jonas Kaufmann’s is brooding, serious and totally grown-up. Kaufmann’s Carlos has no hesitation in placing his duty to Flanders above his personal desires. But this is the five act version, whose first act narrates the brief meeting of Carlos and Elisabetta. The first act does so much more than contextualise Carlos’s later moping. It changes the story. His joy (Elisabetta's too) is seen as real, but his later obsession as delusory, while her acceptance of her duty is the only pragmatic solution. Playing out the love story diminishes it. We see it ourselves for what it is, a moment of happiness, and not as Carlos presents it, the pivot of his destiny. And then we see the discrepancy between our view and his, and Carlos too is diminished in our eyes. He is merely evading his responsibilities, even if he doesn't realise it.
Jonas Kaufmann has chosen to emphasise the political and idealistic side of Carlos, and while that's right for the four act version, I don't think it works here (for one thing, it makes the first act into a tacked-on appendage). But having said that, and first act simpering aside, he follows through brilliantly. He is every inch the rebel prince, and his singing was out of this world. His ravishingly beautiful mezza voce was used to great effect, but he could turn up the power too. And who else could look that hawt in puffball shorts and pixie boots?
Inevitably this Carlos has more chemistry with Posa than with Marina Poplavskaya’s Elisabetta. She is much improved from last year's outing. Perhaps she really was indisposed all those times she claimed. Her steel-coated power was complemented this time round by smooth grained tone and accurate (if hard earned) top notes, lending Elisabetta's dutiful sacrifice a noble cast.
Simon Keenlyside sounded better than I have heard him for some time. Evidently a summer's rest has done him good. He is not and never will be a Verdi baritone - the heft and depth simply aren't there. Pairing him with the baritonal tenor of Jonas Kaufmann unfortunately emphasises this. But he compensates intelligently and with unquestionable commitment.
Marianne Cornetti is definitely a Verdi singer, but I doubt if Eboli is her best role. She wobbled gamely through the Veil Song, but her voice is simply too weighty to navigate it with the required agility. O don fatale was quite lovely though, and she has the warmth to generate sympathy. Couldn't the make up department have glammed her up a bit more though? - the revelation that Carlos has mistaken her for Elisabetta raised an understandable laugh from the audience.
The most satisfying performance came of course from Ferruccio Furlanetto as Philip. Near-perfect. Every note, every gesture conveys absolute authority. He perhaps more than anyone suffered from Bychkov's counter-intuitive pacing though. Unable to linger or rush where the emotions demanded, he was sometimes less convincing than I know he can be. And his showdown with John Tomlinson's unscary Grand Inquisitor didn't pack the wallop it should have done.
Amongst the smaller parts, Robert Anthony Gardiner as the Conte di Lerma really stood out. His singing, most of it terrifyingly exposed, was bright, accurate and rock-solid, and his presence aristocratically relaxed.
I'm going to see a couple more performances, and I'll write more about the production itself then. But suffice to say for now I was surprised at the stagey gesticulation of some of the principals, and at how much fussy micro-managed movement had been imposed on crowd scenes (the auto-da-fé scene was the most egregious example of extraneous chat, clatter and fidgeting). A case of the director working with what was available perhaps, but not quite what you'd expect from Nicholas Hytner.
***** more photos over page *****
Continue reading "Royal Opera House's Don Carlo faces the Inquisition" »
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Rumours that the first revival of the Royal Opera House's Don Carlo was in even better shape than the original were given some weight by yesterday's dress rehearsal. Half the original cast return - Ferruccio Furlanetto as Philip, Marina Poplavskaya as Elisabetta and Simon Keenlyside as Posa. The new additions are Jonas Kaufmann (Carlos), Marianne Cornetti (Eboli) and John Tomlinson (the Inquisitor).
But it's the new conductor, Semyon Bychkov, who has the most impact. Some of his tempos are unique to say the least - the great third act ensemble is taken at such a clip the singers struggle to keep up. But it's a probing, intelligent perspective, at times revelatory - I suspect it will be controversial. Jonas Kaufmann's performance may be too. I had some reservations, but they can wait given this was only a rehearsal, things may change, etc.
Poplavskaya and Keenlyside bring a greater depth to their characterisations this time round. (Ferruccio Furlanetto is of course unimprovable). Poplavskaya in particular has matured astonishingly in just a year. Her range has extended upwards so she can now actually sing all the notes, and with what power. When she sings, she changes the temperature of the room.
Marianne Cornetti is a lovely sympathetic Eboli, and although John Tomlinson isn't quite as scary-looking as Eric Halvarson was, he sings with the authority of absolute power.
The sets seemed uglier than I remembered them, the lighting brasher and less forgiving - just a concession to the official photographers snapping away? I hope so.
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Un ballo in maschera - Opera Holland Park, 21 July 2009
Amanda Echalaz inspects Rafael Rojas's teh conductor's imaginary weapon
I've occasionally spotted some funny things in the undergrowth in Holland Park. But there's no grassy knoll, and nothing that could pass for a book suppository. Nevertheless, JFK's assassination is the reference point for Martin Lloyd Evans's contemporary update of Un ballo in maschera.
It should satisfy those who complained that the recent Royal Opera House production skimmed over the story's political aspect in favour of the lurve triangle. In fact the romance is so underplayed as to be almost non-existent.
Instead the 'herb' Amelia seeks via the fortune-teller Ulrica (here the victim/guest in a savagely parodied TV reality show) is the sort that carries a custodial sentence. The gallows scene is transplanted to an urban wasteland where a shadowy hoodie supplies Amelia with her fix - brazenly injected centre stage. Riccardo finds her slumped in post-score coma. The sordid secret she wants to hide is not being caught alone with another man (no longer a faux pas of course - in fact practically compulsory in modern political circles) - but her desperate addiction.
The staging was unclear in places - why were the conspirators taking pictures of her, did Renato agree to assassinate Riccardo only because he feared a spot of Drugs Shame blackmail, and what was the point of the Bugs Bunny cartoon? And the hesitant movement suggested a couple more rehearsals wouldn't have gone amiss. But although I had a little sympathy with the lone booer at the end of the first scene, by the end it had all knitted together into far more than gratuitous sensationalism - and the warm applause and interval chat suggested that even the more conservative operagoers were convinced.
The bold twist threw Amelia right to the centre of the story throughout. And Amanda Echalaz was absolutely stunning. Her lean, thrilling soprano is nimble but powerful, and as accurate as a laser-guided missile. It may not be the most beautiful voice, but when you hear it in this music, you realise it's exactly what Verdi wanted. The desperation of a woman on the edge of breakdown was palpable. Just brilliant.
The scheduled tenor, Rafael Rojas, wasn't well, so he mimed while his eleventh hour replacement David Rendall sang with creditable power from the pit. What could have turned out a disaster was, save for an inevitable lack of ensemble precision, a barely-noticeable drawback.
Olafur Sigurdarson sang Renato strongly and fluidly, only succumbing to a bit of blustering at the end. Gail Pearson's voice is a bit on the heavy side for Oscar (here a female office aide), but it projects well, and with her brisk secretarial manner the character was less cloying than usual. Carole Wilson was a terrific Ulrica, properly sung not wobbled through. And Benedict Nelson made an arresting (almost scene-stealing) appearance as Silvano, an embittered wheelchair-bound vet, strongly and expressively sung.
A bit more power from the chorus and tightness from the orchestra wouldn't have gone amiss, but with OHP's limited rehearsal time, it's a risk you take with the first show in any run.
Continue reading "Opera Holland Park's Un ballo in maschera" »
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Un ballo in maschera - Royal Opera House, 26 June 2009 (first night)
Although there's not much actively wrong with this show, very little of it really hit the nail either. It made for an unusually yawny evening by Covent Garden standards. I even toyed with the idea of walking out after the first act. Then I remembered how much I'd paid for the ticket.
Most of the problem is Mario Martone's production itself, starting with Sergio Tramonti's sets. They look like entries in a theatrical design contest. Attractive enough, but it's as if each was designed by a different person. The story doesn't have chance to get going and flow smoothly.
And although we're supposed to be in civil-war era Boston, the sense of time and place isn't clearly communicated. A room in Riccardo's house is bare, and as literally interpreted as the olde historical costumery. But it's followed by stacked scaffolding representing Ulrica's house which could have come straight out of a dodgy continental Ring cycle (not helped by Elena Manistina's timid Ulrica) . And why is the gallows scene set in what looks like a bombed-out church? Where are we supposed to be? If Martone's making a statement, it's not in a language I understand.
The direction doesn't offer many clues either. It looks as if all of the cast are just doing their own thing. Ramón Vargas comes out of it best. Riccardo is a great role for him. It capitalises his strengths - that firm, ringing tone, his innate likeability - but his weak point, dramatic rigidity, comes across here as elevated nobility. Some of his top notes were a bit thin, but otherwise he had a great night.
The audience favourite though was Anna Christy's puckish Oscar. After a nervous start, she ripped through the coloratura with ease, and impressively trod the line between irritating the rest of the cast and irritating the audience.
Angela Marambio's Amelia was more problematic. She had the ideas, but not the execution. Her phrasing was intelligent and her colouring appropriate, but they couldn't hide some unpleasantly screechy noises and a vibrato bordering on wobble. Perhaps she'll improve as the run continues, but I wouldn't count on it.
Changhan Lim in the small role of the sailor Silvano was surprisingly more impressive - strong, firm singing and a confident stage presence.
Good job I didn't leave early - the best bit of this production is the final scene. The mirrored back wall is raised and angled to reflect a second pit upstage, where the 'offstage' band play for the ball. It's almost too ingenious and fascinating - I barely noticed Renato stabbing Riccardo to death. Time to applaud the scenery?
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Continue reading "Un ballo in maschera at the Royal Opera House" »
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La traviata - Royal Opera House, 17 June 2009 (first night)
For all the prodigious technical gifts of Covent Garden's Coughing Cougar of the Camellias©, I left this show unconvinced that La traviata is the best place to display them. The steely edge that shapes Renee Fleming's luxuriantly creamy tone here becomes a coat of armour. Not a chink of vulnerability peeping through.
Every Violetta needs backbone - it is after all her iron resolve and strength of character that so impress Germont. But this becomes the defining characteristic of Renee's Violetta. It makes her proclamations of love hollow and her tragic end self-regarding. The key weapon of the courtesan - making the man believe he's in charge - is never displayed. And the act around which the whole plot pivots - Violetta's sacrifice - is rendered simply unbelievable. Why would this feisty Scarlett O'Hara give up the man she loves if there's nothing in it for her?
In her Sempre libera, Renee pauses to deliver a cheeky arse-slap to the naked lady ice sculpture (one of this production's delightfully subtle references to the evanescence of beauty). The way she lined up to the sculpture, pausing before administering the immaculately-judged tap, robbing the moment of all spontaneity, exemplified everything about her approach. I bet she irons her knickers.
The little-known Ermonela Jaho, who stepped into the part last year, has nothing like Renee's technical prowess, but her portrayal was an infinitely more touching one. That said, it was impossible to remain unimpressed by Renee's craft, her magnificent breath control, effortless trills and artfully-considered nuances of tone. A croaky start and her habitually mushy diction aside, she was a living, breathing singing lesson - impossible to imagine anyone improving on her musical choices, or executing them with greater skill.
She looks splendid too. She may be 50, but Restylane and Pilates belie the fact. When Germont sings of her youth and beauty, you believe him. The age difference is gracefully set aside in her relationship with Joseph Calleja, who is in reality young enough to be her son. It's more of a seasoned Sarandon/Robbins pairing than a cradle-snatching Madonna'n'Jesus - no suspension of disbelief required.
That's a tribute to the stature of Calleja's Alfredo as well. He's a little too easily flattened by Hurricane Renee - the second act denunciation comes off as a brave attempt to stand up for himself. But especially in his scenes with Germont, there is a growing maturity and confidence about his performance. But he's never too knowing - Alfredo's weakness and impetuousness are effectively conveyed as he cowers before his father. Calleja's singing is old-fashioned in the best possible sense - a big, powerful masculine voice with a touching lyrical side.
He was one of the best things about the evening, alongside Thomas Hampson's Germont. Hampson's voice sounded less fresh than the last time I heard him. Whether it's an artfully-created effect for this role, or simply the toll of time, who knows, but it conveyed Germont's patrician demeanour to perfection. Hampson has never been a 'Verdi baritone', but he's a terrific singer and actor, so who cares?
One of the most gratifying aspects of this revival was the care and attention to detail taken with the smaller roles, perhaps an effect of Richard Eyre's return as director. Sarah Pring as Annina, Kostas Smoriginas as the Marquis D'Obigny and Haoyin Xue as Gastone were particularly impressive, and the chorus were well-deployed, though never fussily so.
I was pleased to see Eyre hadn't changed much. Bob Crowley's mostly tightly-packed boxy sets not only look good, they provide those all-important hard reverberent surfaces to bounce the singers' voices off. The decor may look busy, but it's mostly deceptively achieved with surface pattern and lighting.
Only the last act, which should be the emptiest, looks over-cluttered, with too many bits'n'bobs for the singers to bash into and knock over, and too much of the action forced into the central space. I love the dressmaker's dummy with its skeletal skirt frame though, a reminder of Violetta's parties past.
The action is grippingly choreographed - I think everyone in the theatre gasped as Germont shoved Alfredo to the ground in the second act. The only failing remains Violetta's much-debated speed-lap round the bed moments before her death. The comedy is only piled on when, instead of expiring wiltingly in Alfredo's arms, Renee rams at full speed into his 'ample middle range' (thank you Edward Seckerson) like a quarterback hitting a blocker five yards from touchdown. Does she die of consumption or concussion?
The Royal Opera House orchestra have been playing splendidly recently, and this night was no exception. Pappano caressed them through the preludes like a tiny newborn kitten, as if he were trying to compensate for Renee's lack of fragility. Precious moments of introspection before red-blooded passion and champagne sparkle took over. Traviata is not generally reckoned the best of Verdi's scores, but Pappano makes you realise it's anything but routine.
Performances of this level of all-round quality don't come around often. It's a reminder that the problem with most traditional stagings of familiar operas is not the traditionalism or the familiarity, but simply that they're done without the love and care and skill and thought lavished upon this one.
******** Click over to see Renee Fleming senza makeup and more! ********
Continue reading "La traviata at the Royal Opera House - Renee Fleming coughs up" »
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Thomas Hampson may not be everyone's idea of a Verdi baritone, but on the showing of today's dress rehearsal, he may turn out to be the best thing about the Royal Opera House's forthcoming La traviata revival. At least he fully inhabited his role, and he sang unarguably well. Renee Fleming and Joseph Calleja both made predictably lovely sounds, but she overplayed and he underplayed, and neither convinced me of any passion for each other. Still, they've got two days to sort it out. The orchestra, at least, sound quite ravishing, and Pappano has introduced a few daring little tricks that prove he understands this score as much as he loves it.
Unlike most of the critics, I really quite like Richard Eyre's 1994 production - it has a traditional look, but there's more to it than comfortingly sumptuous decor. Much has been made of his return to Covent Garden to personally direct it (last year's revival and others were left to underlings). Thankfully, he doesn't seemed to have messed with much. But I was disappointed by the accumulation of stage clutter and pointless action in Act 3, which used to make an eloquent point about the price of freedom with its vast emptiness.
A couple of comic additions had my whole row shuddering with suppressed giggles. Perhaps they were one-off experiments/cock-ups rather than misjudgements, but I will explain no further at this stage in case it spoils anyone's opening night surprise. Just keep your eyes peeled at the end.
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Here first! - a full list of all the Royal Opera House's main stage productions for the 2009/10 season.
The 2009/10 Covent Garden season opens with neither bang nor whimper but with a credit-crunching concert performance on 7 September (repeated on 14 September). Makes a change from last year's Sun readers' special I suppose.
The opera in question is Donizetti's Linda di Chamounix, and the conductor is bel canto genius Mark Elder. The cast includes potential Next Big Things Stephen Costello, Eglise Gutierrez and Luciano Botelho, plus the incomparable Alessandro Corbelli, the first of several welcome appearances this season.
The first staged opera of the season is Nicholas Hytner's lego-loving Don Carlo, with - OMG!- Jonas Kaufmann !!! in the title role. John Tomlinson joins him as the Grand Inquisitor, and the rest of the cast is lifted straight from the first run - Marina Poplavskaya, Simon Keenlyside, fans' favourite Ferruccio Furlanetto, Sonia Ganassi and Pumeza Matshikiza.The conductor is Semyon Bychkov.
This season's contribution to the 2013 Wagnerversary is a new Christof Loy production of Tristan und Isolde. Antonio Pappano conducts Ben Heppner, Nina Stemme, Matti Salminen, Michael Volle and Sophie Koch.
Neigh! Francesco Zambello's ghastly Carmen returns in October, with the latest Covent Garden favourite Elina Garanca back for the title role, fighting off Roberto Alagna, Ildebrando d'Arcangelo, and a farmyard full of furry friends. Bertrand de Billy conducts. It's resuscitated again in June 2010 with a distinctly 'B' cast.
October also sees one of Richard Jones's more subtle and effective efforts back on stage - and attractively cast. The shouldn't-work-but-it-does double bill of Ravel's L'Heure Espagnole (Christine Rice, Yann Beuron, Christopher Maltman, Andrew Shore and Bonaventura Bottone) and Puccini's Gianni Schicchi (Thomas Allen, Maria Bengtsson and Stephen Costello) is conducted by Pappano.
Francesco Zambello steps into Tchaikovsky's The Slippers in November. The new production will be conducted by Alexander Polianichko and features some serious talent fresh from the Mariinsky - Olga Guryakova, Vsevolod Grivnov, Larissa Diadkova, Vladimir Matorin and Maxim Mikhailov.
John Schlesinger's elderly Der Rosenkavalier is dusted off in December. Kirill Petrenko conducts and the cast includes Soile Isokoski, Sophie Koch, Thomas Allen and Lucy Crowe.
Littering the December and January schedules is the inevitable La Bohème. This time Andris Nelsons conducts most of the double-cast performances, which begin with Piotr Beczala and Hibla Gerzmava and end with not a few tbc's.
Robert Lepage's intermittently effective Rake's Progress returns in January 2010. Ingo Metzmacher, Toby Spence (a Tom Rakewell tdf), Kate Royal, Kyle Ketelsen and Stephanie Blythe promise much on the musical side.
Female conductor alert! Top Lisboan Julia Jones wields the baton over Jonathan Miller's Cosi fan Tutte in January. The cast includes Charles Castronovo and Sally Matthews.
A new Richard Jones production of Prokofiev's The Gambler in February is conducted by Pappano, with a cast including Roberto Sacca, Angela Denoke, John Tomlinson and Jurgita Adamonyte.
Plácido Domingo's first appearance of the season is as a tenor. Graham Vick's acclaimed production of Handel's Tamerlano (recorded in Madrid and available on DVD con Plácido)
Bill Bryden's family-friendly The Cunning Little Vixen returns in March with Emma Matthews, Christopher Maltman and Emma Bell, though the presence of Charles Mackerras on the podium has to be the main draw.
Caurier and Leiser's lovely Il Turco in Italia is back in April, with Maurizio Benini conducting, and Aleksandra Kursak, Colin Lee, Alessandro Corbelli, Thomas Allen and Ildebrando d'Arcangelo in the cast.
Aida is subjected to the David McVicar magic in April. His new production is conducted by Nicola Luisotti and features Micaela Carosi, Marcelo Alvarez and Luciana D'Intino. Bare naked elephants?
The last of the Big Three, Richard Eyre's subtly intelligent La Traviata, makes its annual appearance in May and July. This time her name's in the programme - Our first Lady of the Camellias is the fabulous former Netrebko sub Ermonela Jaho. Joining her in her long-awaited return to Covent Garden in May are Saimir Pirgu and Dmitri Hvorostovsky. July's 'B' Violetta is Angela Gheorghiu, who makes do with James Valenti and Zeljko Lucic. Yves Abel conducts.
Laurent Pelly's now-legendary La Fille du Régiment returns in May with the unbeatable original cast of Juan Diego Flórez, Natalie Dessay, Alessandro Corbelli and Felicity Palmer back in place. Bruno Campanella conducts.
What would tempt Sir Colin Davis back into the pit? How about David McVicar's Le Nozze di Figaro? Erwin Schrott, Camilla Tilling, Maruisz Kwiecen. Annette Dasch, Soile Isokoski and Christine Schäfer head the strong cast.
Antonio Pappano conducts Laurent Pelly's new Manon, coming to Covent Garden in June with the announced cast including Anna Netrebko and Rolando Villazón. Anyone fancy a bet?
In one of those rare operatic fairy stories, June sees a baritone with less than a year's experience thrust into a leading role at Covent Garden. Yes, it's Plácido Domingo again, and this time he's Simon Boccanegra. Antonio Pappano conducts a strong cast including Marina Poplavskaya, Ferruccio Furlanetto and Joseph Calleja. It's the 1991 Elijah Moshinsky production by the way, not the Ian Judge one seen last year.
The season ends in July 2010 with the first revival of David McVicar's controversial Salome. Angela Denoke takes the central role, with Johan Reuter as Jokanaan. Hartmut Haenchen conducts.
No link yet, but more details expected on the Royal Opera House website sometime next week.
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*******UPDATE 22/4*******
The Royal Opera House's press releases are now available on their website. Go here for the summary, here for the opera details and here for the ballet.
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Il trovatore - Royal Opera House, 13 April 2009 (first night)
If the first night singing didn't quite hit dress rehearsal standards (I wonder why?) it was still the high point of this otherwise dismal production. A stop-start narrative and half-cooked characters make Il trovatore not the easiest opera to stage. Nevertheless, it's musically strong, truly inventive and a production that steers the audience away from too much left-brain analysis can capitalise on the thrills buried not too far beneath the surface.
But not this one. The monumental sets with their giant pillars and furnaces and gratings are handsome but randomly irrelevant - a palace patio, a railway station, an industrial pizzeria. And when a character really needs some help from the furniture, there's nothing there. How can Leonora mistake Luna for Manrico when they're both in plain view in front of her? Now if Roberto Alagna had been given a nice pillar to hide behind, we would all have sniggered less.
Not that there is much action. Characters barely engage with each other, movement is restricted to stock operatic gesture. It's as if they've all rehearsed on different continents from an Acting for Dummies video and come together for the first time tonight.
Add murky lighting, top off with thumb-twiddling set changes every twenty minutes, and what little momentum is built up in the turgid, static scenes evaporates. The final nail in this particular coffin is the unintentional comedy of the last scene, with everyone writhing on the floor like salted slugs.
Oh well, at least the sword fights (always a ROH strong point) provided a few seconds thrill.
Dmitri Hvorostovsky's dignified Luna provided the vocal highlight. Am I abusing my power? Luna asks himself as he realises there's only one way he's ever going to get the girl. This is no cartoon villain, as Hvorostovsky's noble military bearing emphasises, but a victim of his own desires.
Roberto Alagna's vocal production didn't have the ease of the rehearsal, and he often seemed disengaged - though he did manage to pull out his big numbers with a certain panache. And I was touched to see what a generous colleague he proved to Malgorzata Walewska, another singer whose form had dipped somewhat. At least she managed to whip up some gypsy passion (an emotion sorely lacking elsewhere). Her harsh, throaty vocals wouldn't pass muster in every role, but they added a certain dramatic integrity to her Azucena.
Sondra Radvanovsky was the clear audience favourite. She showed much more emotional involvement in her character than she had at the rehearsal, but at the expense of a degree of vocal control. It's a big, jolie-laide sort of a voice, and I'm not sure yet if I actually like it, but right now Radvanovsky's miles ahead of any other Leonora.
Mikhail Petrenko (Ferrando) and Monika-Evelin Liiv (Ines) were again strikingly impressive.
Not so Carlo Rizzi. Although the Royal Opera House orchestra played cleanly and accurately for him, he just could not keep them together with the singers, racing ahead for every cabaletta, dragging his heels behind whenever the pace slowed. But though he took a maximalist line, with changes of pace or scoring highlighted (often grotesquely so), nothing could compensate for the depressingly inert spectacle on stage. Time to throw this particular baby on the fire if you ask me.
I should perhaps point out that the majority of the tourist-heavy holiday audience were massively enthusiastic about the whole thing - there's clearly no accounting for drink taste.
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I don't usually write about rehearsals because you don't necessarily get 100%-honed performances, and its not really fair to make public comment in those circumstances. But yesterday's general rehearsal for the ROH's latest run of Trovatore was so superb I feel a duty to spread the word. (And just in case Monday's opening night doesn't reach the same heights - but let's not go there yet).
We all know what Caruso said - that all Il Trovatore needed was the four best singers in the world. And with this cast - Roberto Alagna, Dmitri Hvorostovsky, Sondra Radvanovsky and Malgorzata Walewska - it came as close as you could hope for.
Dmitri Hvorostovsky's Luna has been the highlight of previous runs of this production. Well, this time he's got stiff competition, but once again he sang with nobility and distinction. Just like he always does. And was it wishful thinking, or have his acting skills taken a dramatic (ha!) turn for the better? In recital, his natural exuberance is as memorable as his leather pants. But stick him in an opera, and he often looks as if he's reading from an autocue. Not in this show. Even the Egli era tuo fratello! at the end was, for once, not remotely tittersome - his quale orror! sent a jolt through the auditorium.
And here's my profound rumination of the week. Dima's snowy hair is absolutely perfect for every role he plays, whatever the character, whatever the period. So why do production designers neverever duplicate it for other singers? Does he have copyright hair or something?
The Angela-less Alagna seems back on top form. He sounds healthy, he even looks a bit slimmer. Manrico is a real test of his abilities, and while you never feel there's a millimetre to spare, ultimately there's no audible strain whatsoever. He just grabs every note and hurls it forth heroically. So much for his plans to chicken-out from half of the murderous Di quella pira, as the Daily Telegraph's recent interview claims. He belted out both verses like the champion of the tenor Olympics. If he naughtily slipped out of character to acknowledge the applause, who can blame him? And in the tender, lyrical moments that are more his home territory, wooing Leonora or soothing his dear old mum, the natural beauty of his voice shone through to heart-melting effect.
Sondra Radvanovsky wobbled a bit to begin with, but her supreme technical control soon became apparent. She spun her long lines out silkily and crested even the highest notes with liquid ease. Every note and every syllable was shaped and coloured in minutely-nuanced detail. Inevitably, it lacked the thrill of spontaneity - she's a sort of earthy Renee Fleming in that respect. I wasn't always convinced she was living the part either - her dedication to crafting the beautiful line often distanced her from the heart of the role. But I can't think of anyone right now who could sing Leonora better.
Malgorzata Walewska was a bit of a find as Azucena, with a rich lower register and a winning line in dramatic venom that more than compensated for some insecurities on top.
OK, that's your four best singers, but this production is immaculately cast top to toe. Mikhail Petrenko, a mahogany bass in the classic Russian style, has great presence as well as a fabulous voice - what a terrific Ferrando. Monika-Evelin Liiv's Ines more than held her own against Sondra Radvanovsky. And Haoyin Xue, who never made much of an impact on me when he was in the ROH's Young Artist programme, has matured into a fine, solid singer.
Despite the best casting it's ever had, and despite fine 19th century set and costume designs, the production is still as dire and inert as it ever was. It looks like some dredged-up '70's relic even though it can't be more than ten years old, and it makes the legendarily-'difficult' storyline even more incomprehensible and absurd. But more on that after the opening night.
And the audience weren't just the usual riff-raff. What a surprise to see sitting in a private box - Anna Netrebko and Erwin Schrott. She wore a loose beige geometric-patterned shift, chatted and signed autographs for her neighbours on either side, and applauded enthusiastically along with everyone else. A lousy phonecam shot:
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Verdi's Requiem - Royal Opera House, 13 March 2009
Antonio Pappano followed Verdi's opening instruction for his Requiem - il più piano possible - to the letter. The hushed voices of the chorus hovered barely audible above the muted strings. I held my breath. It was the only time in 90 straight minutes I needed to. From where I sat near the front of the stalls, the ear-bludgeoning loudness of what followed masked everything, including what appeared to be a full-blown conversation between the elderly couple in front of me.
I suppose too much noise is better than not enough, but the range of dynamic nuance between f and fff permitted little subtlety. Marked only by a slight shift in volume, the Dies Irae lost its terror. Each time Sir Colin Davis launched into it with the LSO a few weeks ago, I nearly leapt out of my seat. Here I simply shrunk back a little further. The acoustic reflecting panels boxed around the orchestra on stage may have been rather more effective than the ROH realised.
For a reading leaning firmly to the secular, theatrical side, there were surprisingly few dramatic moments, though the trumpets blaring from the side boxes on high in the Tuba Mirum certainly grabbed the attention.
But that said, it was accurately played, perfectly co-ordinated, and there were plenty of compensations in the singing.
Micaela Carosi, a late sub for Barbara Frittoli, looked understandably tentative. A few wobbles at the top aside, she sang confidently and firmly, though I couldn't find her any more engaging than I did in last year's Tosca.
It was almost enough that serial canceller Olga Borodina actually turned up for a change. Her voice was lush and firm, her manner coolly imposing. Worth the wait.
The otherwise reliable Piotr Beczala cracked on the opening note of the Hostias. (Quick, cue the career death announcement!) The most impressive solo singing came from the Russian bass Ildar Abdrazakov in his ROH debut, solid and dignified, but the immaculately prepared Royal Opera House chorus took home the vocal honours.
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Rigoletto - Royal Opera House, 10 February 2009
No wonder David McVicar likes to direct his own revivals. When it's left to someone else, as it was here, you can see just what McVicar adds. He turns mere singers into McKellens and Denchs, titans of the stage, living, breathing characters. Subtract that and what's left is stylish but conservative window-dressing, Zeffirelli with t1ts. Everyone in this Rigoletto stood in the correct place and pointed in the right direction. But blank what-do-I-do-next faces and stock gestures don't make for compelling drama.
Conductor Daniel Oren's turgid pacing didn't help. In a few places, like the final act's storm scene, the music really came alive. The rest was ponderous and drab, sucking the life out of this most vital of operas drip by drip.
There were at least a few decent individual performances, though none of them came in the bewb'n'botty-splattered first scene. Perhaps they were distracted by the bared flesh wobbling away in all directions. At any rate, only the ever-dependable Iain Paterson as Monterone could summon up a creditable performance. Francesco Meli yelped like the understudy of an understudy; Leo Nucci simply shouted his way through. Car-crash stuff.
But something must have happened in the two long minutes it took the huge revolving set to squeak its castle wall side around 180' and display the humble shack hidden behind. When they came back Francesco Meli displayed a firm metallic light tenor, like a sort of heavyweight JDF. the sound is thrilling, even if not every note's quite on target. But he was no master of the court, let alone a rampant testosterone-fuelled predator - more like the Duke's kid brother in fact. It's not easy to be secksy in striped pantaloons but better direction might have lent him some authority. Or he could just watch Kurt Rydl, whose Sparafucile was positively scary.
Leo Nucci was - well - Leo Nucci. Maybe no longer the finest Verdi baritone around in terms of strictly technical beauty. The voice is rubbed bare in rather too many patches for that. But full of colour and character, and still able to sustain a melting legato.
For a soprano with Olympia on her resume, Ekaterina Siurina's top notes were surprisingly tentative, and once or twice craftily dodged altogether. But she has a naturally beautiful, silvery tone (and the most unbelievable Slavic cheekbones) and her Gilda was sweet and affecting. Probably the best performance of the night, certainly the most consistent.
There was plenty of enthusiastic ovating, some of it over the top of the music, but more of the glitter drops off this production each time it's aired. It's obviously tempting for Covent Garden to bring back its guaranteed bankers time after time, but they need more care the older they get, not less.
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