The premiere of Munich's new Fidelio is broadcast live tonight on BR-Klassik radio, starting at 19:00 CET (6pm UK).
Daniele Gatti conducts, and the full cast is:
Don Fernando - Steven Humes
Don Pizarro - Wolfgang Koch
Florestan - Jonas Kaufmann
Leonore - Anja Kampe
Rocco - Franz-Josef Selig
Marzelline - Laura Tatulescu
Jaquino - Jussi Myllys
Calixto Bieito is notorious for squeezing as many bare botties as humanly possible into his productions -even Parsifal left his underpants behind.
But in his new Munich Fidelio (yes, the one we won't be seeing at ENO) Jonas Kaufmann (Florestan) and the rest of the cast keep their pants on. The exposure is purely psychological. No nudity - and incidentally no snakes and no chainsaws either.
(more on next page, including photos)
Continue reading "no butts for Jonas Kaufmann in Calixto Bieito's Fidelio" »
Fidelio - Bayerische Staatsoper, Nationaltheater, Munich, 30 July 2007
(Münchner Opernfestspiele 2007)
I was lucky enough to get good seats for the other operas I've seen this week in Munich. But when I booked at the end of April, only a ceiling-level standing place and a no-view seat were left for Fidelio. I snapped up both and took the standing place for the first half and the seat for the second.
From where I stood I could see only half of the stage. Unfortunately it wasn't the half where most of the action took place. Vision was further restricted by the setting of some scenes in a stage-within-a-stage box. But the ticket was 12 euros - you get what you pay for here.
What I could see revealed an austerely elegant mausoleum-like set in tones of blue-grey. Just offstage was a limestone bathroom with rainfall shower and Philippe Starck fittings-- j/k of course, but it did have that minimalist designer hotel feel. Costumes too were simple and subdued in neutral Armani-like tones. Unless Peter Mussbach had hidden a family of garden gnomes or something on my blind side, it seemed to me a neat concept - less is always more with Fidelio - and I wish I'd been able to get the full effect.
The opening overture was taken ponderously and not without the odd fluff. The orchestra's precision improved later, though conductor Christof Prick (I don't have any joke better than the old Prick in charge of the orchestra one there*) continued to favour taking things slowly.
Fidelio really hinges on the singing, even more so when you can't see the action, and it was a mixed bag here.
Waltraud Meier as Leonore had all the power and breath control of her younger days, but something went sadly awry. It took her three quarters of the opera to warm up, and her intonation was all over the place, sometimes completely obscuring the line she was supposed to be singing. She simply didn't have the high notes either - she shot a mile wide on every single one, and with a voice that powerful, it was a painful experience. There were a few boos at the end (the first ones I've heard all week). I suspect they were directed at her.
Robert Dean Smith was the oddest Florestan I've ever heard. He has that ringing metallic tone the role needs, but it was overlaid with a bleat that would do Andrea Bocelli proud. I couldn't figure out if he'd laid the acting stuff on a bit thick, or if he just does that all the time. Mostly, and in the context of the part, it worked, but it was definitely peculiar. Due to my no-sightline position for the second act, I didn't actually get to see him, but I was unhelpfully informed that (from the half-view standing position) he was on the tubby side for a starving prisoner, and that I wouldn't have fancied him.
Matti Salminen came fresh from his outstanding Daland last night, and as Rocco turned out yet another great performance. Rougher and tougher than Daland, it was a thoughtful and effective characterisation that was the vocal standout of the night.
Aga Miklolaj made a competent enough Marzelline, but none of the other performances made a very positive impression. Martin Gantner as Don Fernando in particular seemed miscast, unable to get down low enough to actually hit his bottom notes.
Despite the variable vocalising, there were a few great moments. Both the prisoners' chorus and the choral finale were beautifully done, with a simple heartfelt quality that mostly eluded the soloists. The high point of the evening came with the pre-finale overture we were thankfully treated to. At last this was Beethoven with some passion, not to mention an exquisitely beautiful flute solo in the middle.
This was the only Fidelio performance of the festival, probably the reason why it sold out so quickly, but in the wake of the high standards elsewhere over the last few days, it was rather a disappointment.
*(I've been told another one - Conducted by Prick? Did they run out of batons?)
A couple of curtain call pics:
and here's my lousy view from upstairs:
I think I got the horn player!
A rather frank interview with the lovely Karita Mattila on Radio 3, available online till Thursday, where she reveals some of the conductors she's worked with are 'total @$$holes' and 'totally unsupportive terrible monsters'. Though rather than sharing these sentiments with them, she prefers simply to feign other engagements if they're fool enough to call her back. Names are not named, but on the other hand there's always a place in her diary for Abbado, Pappano and Colin Davis.
She says how much she learned from an early tour with the wonderful Christa Ludwig, who at first seemed distant and scary, but she came to know as a gracious and wonderful lady, focussed and professional.
Fellow Finn and composer Kaija Saariho is another woman who impressed with her professionalism. She came to many of Mattila's performances before writing for her, and even finished the work in time. Although Mattila finds Saariho's work 'very difficult' technically, she is delighted that Saariho is going to write more for her.
She relishes the Leonore she's currently playing in the ROH Fidelio and wishes she could be more like the character herself. She has 'a certain ruthlessness' which Mattila sees as the 'absolute truth'. Playing her as 'a wimp' would be conventional and boring, and she wouldn't want to waste her time doing that.
Enthusing about Tony Pappano's conducting, she says 'I couldn't believe he's doing it for the first time'. A belief not shared by many of the audience for the first performance I would imagine, though things of course can only get better.
Jessica Duchen reveals the extraordinary excuse for the ROH orchestra's botch of yesterday's Fidelio premiere.
According to conductor Tony Pappano, the fiasco occurred because 'the first horn had hurt his lip'. (And then, with the ghastly inevitability of a gentle breeze at the world domino championships, the entire band played cr@p for 3 hours?) I checked the plausibility of this story with a violinist, who informed me that most orchestras actually play *better* when you take one of the horn players out of the equation.
Tony Pappano is a fine conductor and a very nice man - why can't he just admit they had a bit of an off day? May we suggest that when Tony is offered the inevitable peerage for his otherwise sterling efforts, he adopts the title Lord Lamest of Excuses?
Fidelio - Royal Opera House, 26 May 2007
yes it's really Karita Mattila
As I wasn't lucky enough to be in the centre stalls for this matinee premiere, I missed a lot of the action. Most of the the first act is played almost in the wings or right at the back of the set. I was unlucky enough to be sitting (expensively, mind) on the right side, so I had no idea the set on that side incorporated a suite of prison cells key to the action until I was told so at the interval by a friend who happened to have been sitting on the left. He in his turn was unhappy he'd missed most of the Fidelio/Rocco/Marzelline scenes which took place on the left. And there was enough taking place deep or high on stage to make the upper levels a poor choice too. Isn't somebody supposed to check out sightlines before they put shows out? Even simply narrowing the set would have helped.
Perhaps spreading the action around the stage was intended to compensate for the visual side of the production being static, unimaginative and tediously literal. The opportunity offered by the dramatic difficulties of the second act prison cell scene, supposedly too dark for Florestan to recognise Leonore, is partially met by the clever choice of a raised trapdoor to separate Leonore and Florestan. Underlighting the scene to a point where the audience can't see what's happening is a pointless additional touch.
and again
This production comes from the Met where its lack of corsets and pantaloons apparently riled the traditionalists. Unfortunately the indeterminate '40's-ish dress code is the only modern thing about it. (Click here for more information if you'd like to know about the Royal Opera House's own dress code). Sidestepping the gifted opportunity to pursue any of the broader political themes in the work, producer Flimm gowns his perky prisoners in sparkling white, as if they'd popped out from a health farm, and a robust Florestan is tethered in his immaculate cell with nothing more substantial than a clothesline. This apolitical approach to Fidelio eventually fails artistically too - not a small part of Beethoven's genius was to ensure that this is the only approach which can glue its disparate elements together. Flimm leaves us with a series of tableaux and demi-formed inexplicably-motivated characters.
At least there are some high points on the musical side. The best was Karita Mattila's Leonore, splendidly bold and impassioned, not to mention bravely deglamourised. It's a production worth seeing for her alone. Ailish Tynan's beautiful voice gave Marzelline just the right amount of sweetness and light, while avoiding a simpering or cloying portrayal. Endrik Wottrich as Florestan struggled to convey any notion of the physical rigours of imprisonment, but delivered sensitively in his clear metallic tone. Eric Halfvarson had bundles of energy but struggled dramatically with Rocco's political/humanitarian awakening. Terje Stensvold's Don Pizarro simply wasn't nasty enough to negotiate the gaping dramaturgical hole in Act I, where his planned murder of Florestan (who, crucially, we haven't met) comes across as the righteous revenge of a wronged man rather than a vicious abuse of power.
Unfortunately, it was clear from the opening bars that the orchestra was on less than top form, with some particularly approximate brass playing, and an uncharacteristically thin tinny sound. A general impression of tiredness, lack of power, and under-rehearsal persisted throughout. To be fair, most of the the second act was a lot more polished than the first, with a fuller sound which suggested that the anaemic timbres of the first may have been intentional - if so, Pappano's aim was completely unclear to me. Things fell apart again in the final chorus though, and if I hadn't been able to see Pappano from my seat, I would have guessed he'd fainted or something.
Maybe I've been spoilt by Glyndebourne's recent terrific Fidelio, and the even better concert version by the LSO last year, but this production simply didn't come up to scratch.
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