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.
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.
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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'
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.
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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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