Intermezzo

Calixto Bieito's Stuttgart Parsifal will keep his pants on

Human flesh is on the menu and shirts are nowhere to be seen. Yes, details are emerging of Calixto Bieito's new production of Parsifal, which premieres on 28 March in Stuttgart.

"Apocalyptic sentiment and questions of meaning" are his main concerns.  The setting is a society in material and spiritual collapse, inspired by Cormac McCarthy's post-apocalyptic novel The Road. "Designer Susanne Gschwender creates a destroyed landscape covered by ash, where a ruined motorway bridge is the only evidence of a bygone civilisation. Mercè Paloma provides the characters with an existential basic outfit: protection from heat, cold and pollution".

That's the konzept, but what is the reality?

"I'm tied to a spit and Kundry is sniffing my armpit," is how the American tenor Andrew Richards, who will play Parsifal, describes one of the rehearsal scenes in his fabulous and revealing blog, Opera Rocks. Bieito's staging, which "promises to be a very controversial telling" includes cannibalism and a flower maiden scene that made Richards feel "nearly unclean". The physicality means he "can hardly move each morning I wake up".

He may be shirtless, but at least, Richards promises, his pants stay on. His one word for the production? "Intense".

LOL Boheme

La bohème - Royal Opera House, 23 December 2009

I was crying at the end of this Bohème alright. With laughter. Had Musetta sacrificed more than her earrings for Mimì? Let's just say the resemblance between the proffered fluffy white muff and her show-stealing Act 2 canine companion* was a striking one.
(*'Pickle' the German Spitz, per programme).

But it's the least of this dreadful old production's problems. Where do I start? The artist who can't afford to eat but can pay a nude model? The door which supposedly leads to a staircase placed in what is clearly an external wall ?  The wagon which rocks throughout the Act 3 prelude then spills out a flustered couple at its end (a 'colourful' addition unsupported by either music or libretto)? The vast distance between Rodolfo and Mimì as he sings of gazing on her face?  Even the welcome sight of Kostas Smoriginas in his underpants was, on mature and objective reflection, gratuitous, though it pains me to admit it. I won't go on. Cinematic style realism, which is this production's aim, relies on getting the details right - all of them. No amount of gasp-inducing fake snow can cover that up.

Some productions are traditional in a good sense. They respect the music and the words, and deal with both honestly if unimaginatively. But this one is simply tired, lazy and past it. I can only guess at what sort of internal politics keep it on the schedules.

The music was some compensation for the torture of the visuals. Andris Nelsons, on the third of his five nights, began brilliantly. The first two acts displayed a chamber-like grasp of colour and detail. Every single note mattered. His dynamic range was broad and bold, his daring luftpausen perfectly judged to highlight what followed without losing track of what had passed. The orchestra played beautifully for him, as well as they have for Pappano and Bychkov in recent months. Something changed after the interval though. The exuberance had faded, the lustrous detail was blurred. Still perfectly good, just not quite as emotionally gripping. I didn't, incidentally, notice any of the pit/stage co-ordination problems some of the first night reviewers commented on.

The cast too is a solid one. Although there was an air of routine to Piotr Beczala's Rodolfo, he stepped up a gear to project his big numbers with more ardour. Hibla Gerzmava was a strong Mimì, perhaps too robust to be entirely sympathetic. Gabriele Viviani (Marcello), Inna Dukach (Musetta), Jacques Imbrailo (Schaunard) and Kostas Smoriginas (Colline) completed the well-rounded central ensemble, the only small complaint being a certain similarity between the voices of Hibla Gerzmava and Inna Dukach. They deserve a better show.

Production photos here.

Bryn Terfel's underpants for hire

At least I assume they are. As Welsh National Opera open their costume archive for public hire, they tell Wales Online “The only thing we’re not planning on doing is boots. They’re not quite as easy to clean".

One of the most prized items is sure to be Bryn Terfel's costume from 1990’s Così fan tutte. The then-svelte 24 year old who has "always been very good humoured even when there are two women undressing and redressing him" made his operatic debut as Guglielmo in a toga-style costume.

More at Wales Online.

And more about sheep, leeks, opera west of Bristol - and underpants - in a new blog from occasional Intermezzo contributor HairMan - Hair Man at the Opera.

Ariadne auf Naxos mit Diana Damrau in München

Ariadne auf Naxos - Bayerische Staatsoper, Prinzregententheater, Munich, 16 July 2009

This Robert Carsen production was the big hit of last year's Munich Opera Festival. This year it was revived with the original cast for a final handful of dates at the intimate and acoustically spectacular Prinzregententheater before it transfers to the larger Nationaltheater in September with a new cast.

With city centre traffic totally snarled up in the Merkel/Medvedev summit motorcade, it was a long hot (32°C)  walk to the theatre. Never have I been so grateful to sit on cold hard seats for two hours - this production is played, controversially, without a break. As the prologue ended, the Komponist (Munich's reigning Queen of Pants, Daniela Sindram) handed the score down to Bertrand de Billy in the pit, then strolled to the front of the stalls to watch the whole opera section - in character of course:

Carsen so successfully integrates the two sections that this doesn't seem gimmicky - it's just another one of the identity games that are played throughout. Transformation is everywhere. As we entered the theatre, a ballet troupe were rehearsing on stage, surrounded by mirrors that reflected and replayed their every move. Later the dancers reappeared in the opera section, clad in Carsen's frequently-favoured Tanztheater aesthetic with long black dresses and flowing hair.

There was a brief glimpse of another of his trademarks in the Prologue (was gentle self-parody the aim?) as some of the cast appeared in caricature mask heads. Things were never quite what they first seemed - some of the elegantly robed and tressed dancers turned out to be big hairy men - the acting troupe (look carefully):

Prom 18: Glyndebourne's Poppaea flashes her bits at the Proms

Prom 18: The Coronation of Poppaea - Glyndebourne Festival Opera - Royal Albert Hall, 18 July 2008

Having decided I'd rather spend four hours in a comfy(ish) seat with a decent view than straining my stilettos to peer through the crowd, I forked out £21 for a choir stalls seat, behind the stage. This isn't always a great place to sit for big orchestral concerts, right on top of timps and tubas which can drown out every other sound.

But for this semi-staged performance of Monteverdi's Coronation of Poppaea (yes, the English title despite being sung in Italian) I ended up mere inches from the action, and what's more, the orchestra were behind the singers. The best seats in the house? For one night only, possibly.

Robert Carsen's original Glyndebourne staging was swagged top to toe in red velvet. The Royal Albert Hall couldn't quite stretch to that, so instead we got a few draped objects scattered strategically around the stage >>>>>

Normally when Glyndebourne visits the Proms, it brings a full sized orchestra with it, so the singers end up squeezed on to a sort of landing strip in the middle.

But with the 20-odd musicians of Emmanuelle Haïm's tiny band shoehorned on to the front of the stage, there was plenty of space left for what turned out to be one of the most complete operatic stagings I've seen at the Proms, not much 'semi' about it at all.

It opened with a cringemaking and redundant bit of comedy 'business': Virtue (got up as a nun see left) and Fortune (glamorously evening-gowned) arguing in the front row of the Arena - from where they were invisible and inaudible to most of the audience (except us lot in the choir, nah).  Did the director not realise the audience would be standing?

Equally irritating was the way Cupid - written into only a couple of scenes - loitered around the stage throughout  like a wasp at a picnic. It may have made sense in the Glyndebourne staging, but it didn't transfer to the Proms. I shall now remember Amy Freston for her annoying arrow-waving intrusion rather than her brief but excellent singing.

Emmanuelle Haïm directed the pared-down Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment from the keyboard, in thinly-scored, unfussy and beautifully translucent arrangements.

Although she'd trimmed the score here and there, only one full scene was sacrificed. I wished she'd pruned more ruthlessly - or at least upped the consistently stately pace here and there. It was a hot fuggy night, half the audience hadn't heard of deodorant, and there there several moments I just wanted her to get on with it.

Vocally, the main draw was Alice Coote, and she didn't disappoint as the coolly psychopathic Nero, a butcher in a dinner suit. An opaque and less intense performance than Coote often gives, but just as enthralling.

Danielle de Niese made a surprisingly good job of Poppea, given that her career seems to be headed down the Katherine Jenkins route.

While her idea of acting secksy is as subtle as a stag party strippergram, the voice had more colour and gleam than previous exposure had suggested. As she pouted and squirmed and ground her sturdy thighs into the prone Nero, the difference between the two performances became painfully obvious though. Coote wants you to believe in her, utterly; De Niese just wants to be admired. Poppea is more than a firecrotched party girl; she's a schemer who uses her body as a tool to pursue her broader ambitions. De Niese's dramatic skills didn't stretch this far. But otherwise, the role didn't tax her limitations, and she was one of the best things about the evening.

Iestyn Davies sang Ottone with remarkably secure tone and excellent projection  - definitely one of the few countertenors with the ability to fill a space the size of the Royal Albert Hall. He bravely sidestepped a cheap laugh, and didn't allow the female disguise he sported for Poppea's attempted murder to overshadow the implications of this desperate act.

Just as well really, because there were men in frocks to spare. Though neither could resist dipping into mannerism, some of the best vocal performances came from the character singers Wolfgang Ablinger-Sperrhacke as the Queen Motherly Amalta and Dominique Visse as the Mrs T-like Nurse.

Tamara Mumford as a Nepregko-lookalike Octavia and Marie Arnet as Drusilla also gave able performances, and only Paolo Battaglia's desiccated and uncomfortable-looking/sounding Seneca really disappointed. Cruelly costumed in a thick tweed suit, he must have been envious of the many other characters given dramatic licence to cavort in their underpants on this steamy night. Nero's, Ottone's, Amalta's, Lucan's - we saw 'em all.

The only evidence of airconditioning was the noise it made, like hobnailed elves dancing in the pipes. Now that's one area where the Arena really does score - for some reason it's noticeably cooler than the seated areas on the hottest days.

Listen to the whole concert for the next 7 days on Radio 3 here.

A few reverse-angle photos - the only real disadvantage of the choir seats:

 

 

Jette Parker Young Artists Summer Concert at the Royal Opera House

Jette Parker Young Artists Summer Concert - Royal Opera House 20 July 2008

The buffet table and french windows of the Nozze di Figaro set made their final outing of the season at this year's Jette Parker Young Artists Summer Concert. This gives the singers on the Royal Opera House's two year training programme the chance to display their talents in a more substantial way than the third-bloke-on-the-left type parts they get to play for the rest of the year.

The partly-staged programme (which must be a nightmare to concoct) cleverly balanced extracts from three operas to give each of the ten singers a reasonably equal opportunity to shine. The last act of Figaro was set as a modern country hotel wedding.  Strauss's Capriccio became an oddly effective blend of Viennese salon and Robert Evans pool party, and the cantata from Rossini's Il viaggio a Reims was done as a concert piece, in the sometimes distracting Capriccio costumes.

Jacques Imbrailo really stood out. It wasn't just his rich, velvety baritone. His polish and assurance made him seem the only finished article amongst the varying degrees of work in progress displayed by the others.

In Figaro, his Count was every bit the masterful seigneur, and as Olivier in the Capriccio extract too, his assured presence dominated. Not a crack, not a flaw.

The warmth and charm of Kishani Jayasinghe's beautifully sung Susanna was another highlight. A few minutes on stage in a twenty minute extract is perhaps not long enough for even a seasoned professional to establish a rounded characterisation. So it remains to be seen whether she has more than a winning smile and a knowing wink in her arsenal - enough in other words to sustain interest for the entire length of an opera.

Pumeza Matshikiza's Barbarina on the other hand was a detailed and in many ways more convincing portrayal. It was a shame she was let down here and there by wayward vocals. The contrastingly cool poise of the Countess in Capriccio came as easily to her as Barbarina's vivacity, though again the voice wasn't always on a tight rein.

Monika-Evelin Liiv made the oddest Cherubino I have ever seen, and not just because of the Ali G costume. Threatening, physically aggressive and decidedly unsympathetic, it was a far cry from the sweet muddled boy of the typical production. She seemed more at home as the jaded actress of Capriccio, a better match too for her soaring mezzo.

Embryo barihunk Kostas Smoriginas explored a most welcome career direction, wandering around in his underpants as Capriccio's Count, then ripping his shirt open in gratuitous (and, sweetly, everso slightly embarrassed) fashion as Rossini's Spanish hottie Don Alvaro. Moar!!!

Haoyin Xue and Anita Watson got their best runout as the Italian singers in Capriccio, got up like a hipswinging Elvis impersonator and a boozy floozy Marilyn Monroe lookalike. Xue flashed out some impressive fioritura in the Rossini too.

Krzysztof Szumanski was at his powerful best as Rossini's Baron, and Ji-Min Park's beautiful singing impressed throughout, but especially in the relatively small part of Figaro's Don Basilio.

One thing surprised me about this concert. With top price tickets 'only' £32 (cheap by ROH standards) I'm not surprised that many people decided they could afford the poshest seats, and these were pretty much 100% full. But the lowest priced seats, some as cheap as £2, remained virtually empty. Could it be that if the price is next-to-nothing, people think the value is negligible too?