La bohème - Royal Opera House, 30 April 2012
Which performer in Covent Garden’s La bohème not only gets carried on and off stage, but even has a stand-in for rehearsals?
No, Angela’s not here yet. I’m talking about the adorable Puffin, who plays Musetta’s fluffy white Pomeranian.
Continue reading "La boheme - back again at the Royal Opera House" »
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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Joseph Calleja / Joyce DiDonato / Thomas Hampson / Vasko Vassilev / Antonio Pappano - Royal Opera House, 24 June 2009
Finally, after the cancellations of first Rolando Villazón, then just two days ago his replacement Dmitri Hvorostovsky, this recital got under way with Antonio Pappano at the piano, his concert master Vasko Vassilev, and three of the biggest names that could be arm-twisted into appearing.
The (scanned below) programme's eclecticism suggested the brief was "sing what you like, just don't throw a sickie". So Joyce DiDonato revealed her inner Judy Garland, Professor Thomas Hampson nourished our grey matter, Joseph Calleja auditioned for Malta's Got Talent - and Pappano took the whole lot in his stride, equally at home in Mahler and Arlen, as if he'd practising for weeks. Vasko Vassilev's Russian violin interlude was a bonus.
Like Arsenal's trophy cabinet, the stage was bare but for a mirrored backdrop (pinched from Un ballo in maschera, which opens later this week) - an unfortunate reminder that the house was not exactly packed.
Joseph Calleja is one of the big successes of the current La traviata, and set against the simple backdrop of the humble piano his voice is even more impressive. It's just such a gloriously big, open, honest instrument, so full of warmth and sincerity. It took talent to capture Rodrigue's aria from Le Cid so perfectly, but how much more to turn the slushy Because into a heartfelt utterance.
La regata veneziana is one of Joyce DiDonato's party pieces, and she tells the tale with such conviction ("row, Tonio!" she commanded with a wink to her sturdy pianist). She's got the jazz chops for Can't Help Lovin' Dat Man too - not the excruciating trial you might get from some opera-trained singers. But the Willow Song, where she softened that wiry edge that sometimes coarsens her tone, was the highlight. She looked stunning too, in a moss green satin gown with twinkly seaweed beading.
Thomas Hampson (known to cognoscenti as "The Hampster" due to his habit of secreting sunflower seeds in his capacious cheek pouches) just filled the stage from the first note he sang. What amazing presence.
And I was pleased to find the geriatric tone of his Germont in the current La traviata is no more than dramatic licence. He was in robustly healthy voice here for two of his great specialities, Mahler and American song. Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen was delivered with raw, unapologetic intimacy, as if we were all clustered right there on the stage with him. And it offered the chance, rare in this evening of bits and pieces, to be drawn in for more than a couple of minutes. A draining ride.
He spoke a few useful introductory words before launching into Burleigh's Ethiopia Saluting the Colors - a fascinating piece of folklore.
His Les pêcheurs de perles duet with Calleja wasn't the most delicately nuanced reading, but it underlined how well-paired they are as la famille Germont. Against the odds, a successful evening, and a fitting end to it.
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Continue reading "Calleja DiDonato and Hampson pass health inspection" »
First Dmitri kindly took over when Rolando cancelled his 24 June Royal Opera House recital with Antonio Pappano.
Now the saviour of the day is sick himself. According to the latest Royal Opera House press release:
"Unfortunately Dmitri Hvorostovsky is now also under doctors' orders to completely rest his voice and it is with great regret that he has had to cancel all his current engagements."
(UPDATE - he apparently caught a severe throat infection during his recent Russian tour).
The good news is that the concert goes ahead - with three for the price of one! Joyce DiDonato, Joseph Calleja and Thomas Hampson have stepped into the breach, with ROH concert master Vasko Vassilev providing further support.
Statistics indicate that at least one of them should still be standing by Wednesday night.
While Renee Fleming is off guzzling beer with her Czech mates, Malta's one and only operatic superstar, Joseph Calleja, will be returning to his native isle on July 19 to show his compatriots just what they're missing.
Joining Joseph in the Bryn-style musicfest is serial hair criminal Michael Bolton (OK so he's had the chop since, but can you EVER forgive the Tim Berners-Lee of the Mullet?)
Calleja himself used to sing in a hair metal band so the possibilities are --- quite frightening when you think about it.
Also featured is Eurovision contestant Chiara, and, bravely, a no-audition-required scratch choir of local children.
Something for everyone then.
More including video here.
Operatic opportunities in Malta are limited:
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! ********
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