Out West Arts: Performance at the end of the world

Christian Franz and Katarina Dalayman
Photo: Marty Sohl/Met Opera 2009

I escaped from New York on Sunday following the final night of the Metropolitan Opera’s second complete Ring cycle for the season. And while my escape was nothing akin to, say, the Von Trapp family, I nonetheless feel I’ve emerged feeling slightly less transformed than oppressed. But there it was—Götterdämmerung in all its slow, methodical six hour glory. Now I’m not one to complain about slow and deliberate on most occasions, but I have to admit the James Levine approach had begun to wear on me a little by the end. At times I wanted to scream, “please can we just get on with it.” It’s a legitimate, well-reasoned and—at times—beautiful approach to Wagner, but honestly not one that’s to my taste. Most of the cast continued to prove that they could handle this material though stamina continued to be an issue at times. Christian Franz, the Siegfried, came off better here than Thursday with a little bit less on his plate and sounded believable throughout. Katarina Dalayman was back after the night off from Siegfried for more trouble in strife. I thought she sounded pretty damn good in Act II when it was all about the rage. However, she petered out by Act III creating a very lackluster immolation scene. I felt she was inaudible through some of this and was clearly in the position of being led by the orchestra than having it the other way around. She received at least one string of loud boos from somebody upstairs with something to prove. The most heroic figure was John Tomlinson as Hagen. He was menacing and somehow avoided looking too cartoonish amidst this large carnival attraction of a staging. Everyone else was just fine and dandy.

I think Act II may have been the single most successful act of the whole cycle. It seemed to be the one time where everyone was in quite reasonable voice, there was very little silliness for them to have to chew their way through on stage, and for one brief shining moment, there was enough light cast on the stage to see what was happening. Darkness was probably preferable in Act III as the Gibichung’s hall collapsed in the final moments of the opera in that rickety controlled way that things on stage do. Still, it was a Ring cycle and, all in all, Wagner’s masterpiece can’t be ignored in all of this. It is still a rather unique experience and even under these non-ideal circumstances, I can’t say that I didn’t enjoy it. Even if the world did end with a bit more whimper than bang.

Simon Rattle, Thomas Quasthoff, Magdalena Kozena and the Philadelphia Orchestra
Photo: mine 2009

Transfiguration could be had in New York over the weekend, however, and at decidedly lower rates than Wagner’s Ring cycle. It had to be brought up from Philadelphia, of all places, to Carnegie Hall where the Philadelphia Orchestra made one of their frequent guest appearances with a performance of Berlioz’ La Damnation de Faust. The real kicker here was a cast of guest performers to be envied by anyone – guest conductor Simon Rattle led Thomas Quasthoff, Eric Owens, Gregory Kunde, and Magdalena Kozena. Who needed La Cenerentola over at the Met on Friday night with that line-up? It was an excellent performance especially coming on the heels of the Met’s own excellently staged production of this work just last Fall. The Philadelphians have taken a lot of bruising in the press over the last few years, but you wouldn’t have known it on Friday. How much of this was Rattle’s guidance was unclear, but it was a bright, festive, and often urgent performance. Quasthoff proved as interesting a performer as ever giving a marauding and sly Mephistopheles. With a much smoother line overall, Kunde was a marked improvement over Marcello Giordani, who was the Met’s Faust. He did struggle with some of the high notes, but seemed less strained to my memory. Kozena has been sick this week and performed with a “please excuse me” announcement. Even though her illness was apparent on both the high and low ends, she still sounds better than half the mezzos I can think of in this part. The sheer intensity she mustered even in this state was evident to everyone in the room. It was a great evening of music and quite a nice bit of energy amidst a week of Wagnerian histrionics.

Labels: Carnegie Hall, Met opera reviews 08/09

Model for the Lepage Ring set
Photo: Met Opera 2009

I’ve done a lot of bitching here this week about the Otto Schenk production of Wagner’s Ring in it’s hopefully final revival here at the Metropolitan Opera. So it was a no-brainer for me to catch a Patron preview event on Friday afternoon hosted by Peter Gelb of the new Ring production that is in development apparently as we speak. The preview consisted of a short speech from the general director followed by some recently edited film footage looking at the new Ring cycle that will be rolled out starting in the Fall of 2010 with plans for full cycles as early as spring 2012. The director will be Robert Lepage who had a robust recent success here with a staging of Berlioz’ La Damnation de Faust and has a long history of technologically innovative theater work with his group ex machina. Based on the preview material, the production appears to be both intriguing and a huge step forward for the most dowdy of opera organizations. From what I can tell so far and based on Gelb’s own comments, the production will use a deceptively minimal unit set consisting of 24 giant planks that can be raised, lowered, and individually rotated from a set central axis. Singers, or more likely acrobats and others, can perform atop these planks that can be positioned at stage level or elevated, in order to form undulating waves, steep inclines, see saws or turning windmills. Of course, the full range of interactive video projection technology will also play a role for something that at this stage looks both colorful and full of movement.

Model for the Lepage Ring set
Photo: Met Opera 2009

Of course, the audience for this little dog and pony show was far from the forward thinking variety. Needless to say, it remains true that frequently money and taste do not go hand in hand. (We can't all be Betty Freeman now can we?) The knives were out in the crowd and it was during the extended question and answer part of the show that things really got going. The program was an apology of sorts, intended as a reassurance to the most reactionary elements of the audience. It's the the kind of thing San Francisco audiences have become accustomed to in recent years with the arrival there of David Gockley. But, ironically, while that house is sinking in an artistic quagmire of star-studded left-overs, Gelb is valiantly trying to pull this august New York institution into the something approximating the present. He spent much of the time reassuring the gray-haired moneybags in the room that the music and story of Wagner’s work would be respected and that nothing is going to change even though, in fact, it will look different. Taking no reassurance, the audience responded like a room full of fear-mongering CNN anchors by trotting out all of the usual opera bogeymen it could think of – regietheater, Cirque de Soleil, Los Angeles, etc. All of this wrapped in the kind of pseudo-intellectual garbage you'd expect. (Q: What experience does Lepage have in directing Wagner prior to this? A: None. Neither did Chereau or Schenk prior to their legendary Ring cycles.) And as usual, the organization tried to walk the fine line of saying, I feel just like you do, but trust me, this is for the best. There was an inordinate amount of attention spent on the issue of what will happen to the sets from the current Schenk production and whether they would be lovingly kept is a sock drawer somewhere or burnt in hellfire. Gelb reassured them that the supposedly universally loved production would not be destroyed, but I suspect that fact may have more to do with the likelihood that these constructions are so old they are comprised of significant amounts of hazardous carcinogenic materials that will end up requiring unusually expensive means of disposal. It’s obviously cheaper to keep her.

However, it appears that the die is wisely cast on this one. And, even though the Met is actively soliciting funds to support this and other endeavors, Gelb himself announced the good news is that the new Lepage-directed Ring is already paid for based on other prior major gifts. So, though I may be in a minority, at least among this group of supporters, I say more power to you Mr. Gelb. Keep fighting the good fight.

Labels: Met opera reviews 08/09

Robert Brubaker and Christian Franz
Photo: Beatriz Schiller/Met Opera 2009

So here we are at the problematic third opera of Wagner’s Ring cycle, Siegfried. It is the most comedic of the series, or at least Wagner’s version of comedic, and there was a smattering of laughter on Thursday, though probably not often at the points Wagner intended. Of course, the guy in the bear suit and the dirty laundry pile Siegfried kills in Act II to obtain the Ring didn’t help matters. But besides feeling like I was riding on a Disneyland attraction badly in need of repair, it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant evening. There was more great conducting from Levine and a very reasonable cast on the whole that made the difference. There was some hectoring about the brass section among the audience where I was sitting, but I felt things were improved over Tuesday. Musically, the Metropolitan Opera continues to set the standard for quality musical performances of opera in this country. Now if we could just do something about that pesky theater bit.

Vocally, the cast was filled with folks getting their hands on this material with the Met for the first time. Christian Franz was Siegfried and a participant in virtually every title fight of the evening. He won (or at least took the decision) in all but that thorny last scene. He was heroic, bright-toned, and eminently watchable. The only issue was stamina. By the time our boy Elroy recognizes he could have had a V8 on the mountain top, it was all over but the shouting. Linda Watson, the second replacement for Brünnhilde in this performance, arrived fresh from a run of Walküre in L.A. to wake up in a very different, and much less interesting ring of fire. As I’ve noted before, I’m much more fond of her Brünnhilde than her Isolde, and she was enjoyable to listen to. Her acting tended toward the hammy, but amongst these ruins, it was hard to blame her. Robert Brubaker’s Mime had much the same issue, but vocally there was little to complain about. Albert Dohmen completed the Wotan series in this cycle with real flair, and after all these hours of music, I was rather won over by his portrayal as well.

The best news is that after three operas, I'm actually starting to look forward to how this ends. Of course, I already know. But the things that's been most lacking for me in this cycle thus far is that urge to see the next segment despite its familiarity. I felt that kick in to an extent on Thursday, which is good news. This may be the last hurrah for a very lackluster production from Otto Schenk, but even at this point, this cycle can be a potent reminder of what James Levine was able to achieve in this house over the last several decades when it comes to Wagner. And that is something to admire indeed.

Labels: Met opera reviews 08/09

Now you're in trouble, Act III of Die Walküre
Photo: Ken Howard/Met Opera 2009

And on the second day there was Die Walküre. It occurs to me that there may be nothing more difficult to do on stage than look girlish while drinking mead from an animal horn. (Or perhaps mixing a mickey into the mead by swishing the horn around in big circles before putting the big sleep on your hunter hubby could be a close second.) In any event, I’m not going to belabor the point about the hopefully soon to be incinerated Otto Schenk production of the Ring. Instead let’s talk about something positive like Placido Domingo. He’s simply electrifying. Here he was again doing Siegmund as no one else can in the world right now, creating far more flames than all the red lights, smoke and paper in Act III. The audience is wild for him and I must admit, despite the ridiculous wig, he was mighty, mighty impressive singing circles around everyone else. It's the fourth time I've heard him sing the part this month, and it's still amazing. He’s unrestrained here, able to expressively act his heart out, which he does. He’s onstage with Adrianne Pieczonka as Sieglinde most of the time who is a reasonable foil if lacking in some of his warmth. Even the magnificent René Pape is relegated to second fiddle in his presence, but I’m sure we’ll hear much more from him in the Wagner part of the repertory as time goes by.

The biggest problem with tonight’s Walküre is that there is only so much opera for Domingo to sing in this part. The other half of the evening is primarily occupied by a much less illustrious pair. Albert Dohmen was Wotan again tonight, but I often felt he was holding back a little. Throughout much of Act II, he seemed to lose the overall line to staccato bursts of phrasing. He would often get run over by the orchestra, which was not having the best of all possible nights either. There were several mishaps in the horn section over the course of these 4 or five hours, which, granted, is not unheard of either in this particular marathon. Then there is the matter of Katarina Dalayman, the official third or fourth choice for tonight's Brünnhilde after at least two other cancellations. I found her voice a little low for the part overall and the middle seemed to be absent altogether. She could hit the high notes and had a fair amount of power behind them, but could get screamy on her way there. Act III pretty much unraveled, but not to the point that things were painful, just a little boring. Let’s put it this way, the real wonder of Wagner is that you can leave Die Walküre after 5 hours wanting to immediately go back in for more of the story. Tonight, I’m just glad to have a day off.


Back to Domingo… You may want to pick up his latest DVD release as Bajazet in Handel’s Tamerlano. It’s a role he’s been doing around the world and will reprise in a production originaly from Washington in L.A. later in the fall. This time it’s a Graham Vick staging in Madrid recorded for Opus Arte. Check it out.

Labels: Met opera reviews 08/09

Richard Paul Fink and the Rhinemaidens
Photo: Beatriz Schiller/Met Opera 2009

The focus of my New York trip this week is a visit to the Metropolitan Opera, which is wrapping up their 125th season over the next two weeks with the 6th and reportedly final revival of Otto Schenk’s production of Der Ring Des Nibelungen. It’s been a busy and tough season here, as it has been everywhere for arts organizations. But the company is continuing to gain ground in finding new ways to connect with potential audiences. This weekend, in fact, the house will offer up a free trial of their online Met Player service, which means you can watch one of several dozen videotaped performances from either the company’s HD series or historic broadcast archives as well as many more audio broadcasts, all for free. (Parterre Box is taking a poll of the best of these for those of you who might be interested, but there’s no contest – it’s the Karita Mattila Salome performance from last fall.) If you've missed any of these great performances, this is an excellent chance to catch them online at no cost between Friday at 5pm eastern time and midnight Sunday.

But a filmed performance and a live performance are very different animals. And, while I'm here, there’s a lot of live Wagner to attend to, which I started on Monday with Das Rheingold. The casting has been super slippery around here lately with various and sundry illnesses, so I was quite surprised how well sung the whole evening was with the cast that did show up in the end. Albert Dohmen appeared as a stentorian Wotan in a house that has had virtually no one besides James Morris sing this part in the past two decades. Morris may be a crowd favorite here, but Dohmen provided some needed new energy to the part. Kim Begley was Loge and Richard Paul Fink continued his very well received run as Alberich. Both were exemplary. René Pape made a warmly welcomed Fasolt, of all things, to John Tomlinson’s Fafner. Yvonne Naef sounded much less brittle as Fricka than I remember, based on my last couple of brushes with her. All in all a good showing considering that outside of the singing, there was little else for this cast to do.

The conclusion of Das Rheingold
Photo: Beatriz Schiller/Met Opera 2009

Then of course there’s that James Levine touch. Despite his slower than molasses Wagner idiosyncrasies, he does deliver remarkable performances from this world-class orchestra. Granted, this pacing plays out better in Tristan and Parsifal, but it's not completely unreasonable here. In fact its amazing how things don’t sound more plodding than they could given this deliberate pace. And following Levine's sick day last week, there continues to be a lot of love flowing towards the stage. But how do you solve a problem like that horrendous Otto Schenk staging. It’s almost the steam-punk equivalent of an opera – except less cool. The amount of technical wizardry that goes into something that looks as drab and out-of-date as this is astounding. It's clearly time to move on, and wisely the Met appears to be doing so. No matter what the Robert Lepage staging looks like when it is first rolled out this fall, it will certainly be better than this.

Das Rheingold did get me to thinking a lot about this whole notion of what makes a “static” production, however. Following the premieres of Achim Freyer’s take on Das Rheingold and Die Walküre in Los Angeles recently, I heard a lot of people complain that parts of the productions were “too static.” And while it’s true that his scenes can be marked by little person-to-person interaction, I think there’s little static about them. There is almost constant motion from one of a variety of elements on stage, even if it’s not the primary vocalizing characters in the scene. This activity is nearly always either furthering the narrative or commenting on it in some way. Sort of Freyer's own leitmotif system. In almost direct contrast is the Schenk production, where a very ornate and beautiful room is set for a scene that the cast is placed in. There is plenty of interpersonal contact, but virtually nothing happens. There’s a lot of hand wringing and arm waving, but in the end it’s really just stand-and-deliver performance amidst kitschy scenery. Everything is exactly what it is and no more or less. And while sometimes a cigar, is just a cigar, I can't help but want something much more.

Of course, with so little going on, this might be the ideal staging to watch on video. Sometimes the necessity of changing camera angles can fill a visually dead production with life that isn't there in the flesh. And luckily with the free Met Player weekend, this might just be your chance to take in these operas in a format likely to spice them up a little so check it out while you have the chance.

Labels: Met opera reviews 08/09

How'd Renée get up in that tree?
Photo: Ken Howard/Met Opera 2009

If Mary Zimmerman’s recent production of La Sonnambula for the Metropolitan Opera in New York was a slap in the audience's face, then their recent revival of Otto Schenk’s staging of Rusalka is not unlike being urinated on in public. And while some may not view this as entirely a bad thing, in this instance, it's not. Talk about kitsch. Dvorák’s dark and somber fairy-tale opera gets an overly whimsical treatment in this star vehicle for Renée Fleming. But star she does, in a work that started her career and has become her calling card. She’s toured this opera all over the world, and hearing it again with such a superb cast in this run under Jiri Belohlávek's baton is undoubtedly a wonder. Rusalka fits Fleming like a glove, creating the ideal environment for her warm, glowing voice. The supporting cast was no less worthy with Stephanie Blythe as Ježibaba and Aleksanders Antonenko as the Prince. Even Kristinn Sigmundsson is able to make quite a mark despite a ridiculous "Sigmund the Sea Monster" outfit.

Sadly, he is not alone in being burdened with a ridiculous costume in a sadly overreaching staging. The child-like aspects of the piece are thrust so front and center, it borders on the humorous. When the set becomes all about impressing the audience with architecture as it does here, you know you’re in trouble. Luckily, Fleming stays above much of the fray firmly keeping her performance in a mythical Melisande territory which is flattering to her. Otherwise Schenk has done little more than create his own Little Mermaid, complete with wicked witch and a handsome prince. Why he doesn’t believe in this piece as much as Fleming does, giving it’s darker elements full reign is a mystery. And seeing his revival, which is less than 20 years old, in the context of such great stagings as Robert Carsen’s for Paris National Opera is a crying shame. To have something so lovely as Fleming's performance wraped in something so miserable was exasperating.

Labels: Met opera reviews 08/09

Natalie Dessay (r) and JDF (l)
Photo: Ken Howard/Met Opera 2009

So, on Saturday while in New York, I was in the audience for the much-reviled Mary Zimmerman production of Bellini’s La Sonnambula featured as part of the Metropolitan Opera’s HD broadcast series. I must say that I don’t get it. Not the production, I'm fine with that and found it clever and rather enjoyable. But I don't know why everybody got their panties in such a bunch over this one. As you may recall, the production team was met with vociferous boos on opening night, as widely reported across the Internets. Sure this production probably won’t make my top 10 list or anything, but it was hardly the slap in the face to the audience that some critics have made it out to be. And frankly as masochistic as the general Met audience is, I hardly think that would be much of a criticism anyway. (They'll happily sit through that dessicated Cav/Pag countless times for instance.) For those of you not up to speed, director Mary Zimmerman moved the action of the story from a quaint Swiss village, to a rehearsal studio where the cast is actually rehearsing a production of the opera itself with all of the primary relationships in the opera replicated among the "actors" in the production. Much of the standard critique is that the concept falls apart after awhile and it is unclear when the cast is "rehearsing" the opera and when they are not. Furthermore, many writers were taken aback by the close of Act I when the chorus, having found Amina in the count’s bed, begins tearing up their scripts and trashing the rehearsal studio. Later at the conclusion of the piece, when all is forgiven, the cast dons kitschy Swiss costumes and performs the conclusion of the work as a sort of self-referential parody.

This is what the fuss is about? So it isn’t reverent towards Bellini’s original. Who cares? Yes, it doesn’t always make sense. But when has that ever been a criterion for any opera much less an individual production. Traditional Met audiences have been weened on so many crappy ersatz "European" fantasies over the years that a mild tweak of a frankly flimsy opera comes along and you’d think somebody died. I actually enjoyed the whole thing a fair amount. Natalie Dessay is engaging as Amina, and I felt for her in a situation where she’s rejected by her lover and demonized by the townsfolk. (Perhaps, they were wrecking the studio over their anger at her and the fear that the break up between their two leading performers meant the end of the project and loss of their jobs.) There are more than a couple of wonderful moments. The first is when Dessay enters from the back of the auditorium performing Amina’s first sleepwalking aria from the aisles. For the Act II showpiece, she is thrust forward over the orchestra pit on a plank jutting from the stage. Maybe it wasn't logical or respectful, but it was pretty and engaging if you can let go and take the production on its own terms.

The singing was good all around, and Juan Diego Flórez continues to rock the house. If there was any major criticism of the evening in my mind, it rests with conductor Evelino Pidò whose glacialy slow pacing dragged everything down, making some of the action seem much more methodical than necessary. But I must commend Zimmerman, Dessay, and general director Peter Gelb for moving on despite the beating they’ve taken in the press and elsewhere over this. Mary Zimmerman’s La Sonnambula is exactly the kind of production the Metropolitan Opera needs. In fact it probably needs a dozen more like it. The idea may not be original and this production may ultimately not be ideal, but if America’s premiere house ever intends to get back on top of the artistic heap it long ago ceded to other shores, it’s going to have to keep taking some risks. Many of these are not going to work. But they’re playing catch up right now and thank goodness Mary Zimmerman’s got a pair to actually do something a little more interesting than say the "new" warmed-over David McVicar Il Trovatore or a dozen other ancient dinosaurs that roam those hollowed aisles. The world's best music and singing aren't going to do it all by themselves or they wouldn't be where they are to begin with. There are three more performances of La Sonnambula, and there are still a few tickets floating around for it.

Labels: Met opera reviews 08/09

Sondra Radvanovsky and Macelo Álvarez
Photo: Ken Howard/Met Opera 2009

Unfortunately, the Metropolitan Opera’s current production of Il Trovatore is no inferno, disco or otherwise. In fact, despite probably some of the best singing you’ll hear, David McVicar’s imported production never generates much heat. Which is odd considering he’s a director who usually knows exactly what he’s doing. But this is not his best work. Despite all of its minimal burnt-out Goya visual aesthetic, more often than not things still boil down to good old stand-and-deliver operatic conventions. In fact it looks distressingly similar to a myriad of other decades old productions the Met turns out with disturbing frequency. But the large rotating set does come to life periodically, and things do look dire even if none of the character’s ever look more than a little disheveled while emoting amongst the ruins. Even by McVicar's standards, things can be rather tame here. Yes, a shirt is ripped open every now and then, but this rarely looks like life during wartime.

But let’s go back to those vocal performances. Sondra Radvanovsky gave her signature Leonora performance to very enthusiastic response. She still isn’t getting the glossy bus ad treatment here in New York, but she certainly should be. She handles everything from piercing to pianissimo with ease and has just enough edge in her voice for this kind of Verdi role. Manrico was handled by Marcelo Álvarez, who returned to the production after calling in sick earlier this week. He didn’t sound any worse for the wear, though his acting tended toward the hand-wringing side of things. Dimitri Hvorostovsky was a debonair and impressive Count di Luna. (Which always raises the question of why does Leonora want Manrico over him?) Azucena was taken over in this week’s performances by the wonderful Luciana D’Intino who gave a very robust and highly felt performance. She was so good in fact, I suspect that there were more than a few people in the audience who didn’t realize that she wasn’t Dolora Zajick who exited the production last week to head off for a series of Santuzzas in Chicago. D'Intino is no second string talent to be sure. Of course, she does have to spend the last Act chained in a huge burnt-out pit, but these are the duties of the glamorous opera life.

Gianandrea Noseda aptly conducted this enjoyable but essentially underwhelming performance before the show goes on hiatus for a few weeks. Il Trovatore will return at the very end of the season here late next month with a new cast that will luckily include D'Intino.

Labels: Met opera reviews 08/09

Roberto Alagna and Nuccia Focile
Photo: Marty Sohl/Met Opera 2009

At first, I was upset with the good folks at American Airlines and Newark Liberty Airport for screwing up my arrival and first night on this most recent trip to New York. A multi- hour delay resulted in my missing the opening curtain on a performance of Cavalleria Rusticana in its current revival at the Metropolitan Opera. Now as much as I appreciated getting to see Madagascar 2 and Four Christmases, I was a little bitter as I arrived about 10 minutes late only to be relegated to the penalty box of List Hall. Of course, after what I did see, the airline may have been acting in my best interest. I will withhold any full judgment about the Cavalleria considering that I neither saw nor heard it completely. But it did strike me that as much as I love Waltraud Meier, she lacked a certain warmth in her portrayal of Santuzza. Or it least it felt like that on the big screen.

However, it is clear that this horrific production is as worn and thread bare as carpet in a filthy nursing home. Even Roberto Alagna’s chest hair in the climactic scene of the evening failed to completely remove that odor of stale cat urine one senses in their Grandmother's home. Filling up a large empty stage with a multitude of choristers in period costumes does not make a worthwhile production. But the orchestra sounded great, as usual, under the leadership of Pietro
Rizzo, a new young face making his house debut. In fact there was another significant debut from Alberto Mastromarino who sang Tonio in Pagliacci and also filled in for an ailing Charles Taylor as Alfio before the intermission. He was strong and his performance was easily the vocal highlight of the evening in both a rueful and sly fashion. The big star though was Alagna, but chest hair aside, what he’s doing in this role is not clear to me. He sang Canio in Los Angeles a number of years ago and at the time I thought he was kind of light for this part, although he clearly can sing it. My opinion hasn’t really changed much on a second take years later. It’s hard to believe Nedda has lost affection for this seemingly pretty young man since it’s not clear how she would have ever cared for him in the first place. Speaking of Nedda, sung here by Nuccia Focile, she never seemed all that engaged. That on top of a minor wig mishap led to a less than stellar performance. When the whole opera revolves around people drmatically removing wigs at key points, it can be a bit of a drag when they tenaciously hold on to one's scalp. There are five more performances in the run with the last three featuring Jose Cura instead of Alagna.

Labels: Met opera reviews 08/09

Lorin Maazel, Deborah Polaski and the New York Philharmonic
Photo: mine 2008

Sometimes, it’s all about your expectations. Saturday’s a good example where two performances left me with very different impressions – each quite in contrast to what I thought they might. On the good news side was the New York Philharmonic’s last of four concert performances of Strauss’ Elektra. While I love Strauss, I do not love the orchestra’s music director Lorin Maazel and my prior experiences with him have been highly variable. The cast was first rate and very experienced in these roles including Deborah Polaski as Elektra, Jane Henschel as her mother Clytemnestra, and Anne Schwanewilms as Chrysothemis. But despite my reservations, it was a barn-burning performance from Maazel and the orchestra. Both detailed and urgent, the performance was mesmerizing, holding the audience rapt for the single act work. Polaski may not be the warmest voice, but like Waltraud Meier’s amazing Isolde from Friday night, there is a lot to be said for knowing a role so well that it feels lived in. Polaski is searing with rage throughout. Schwanewilms and Henschel matched her intensity creating a rich and wonderful evening.

Felicity Palmer as the Countess
Photo: Ken Howard/Met 2008

Earlier in the afternoon, however, the Metropolitan Opera had a much harder time selling a work that may have looked better on paper. It was the final performance in the current run of Tchaikovsky’s The Queen of Spades under the baton of Seiji Ozawa making his first appearance at the Met in over a decade. At the center of this painfully dull production was a wellloved, but struggling Ben Heppner. He’s been plagued with health problems all year and after missing the majority of performances of Tristan in the spring here in New York, he successfully made all of his appearances as Ghermann. However, his absence may have been preferable under the circumstances. On Saturday he was again cracking and faltering throughout, though the audience did get a “please excuse my illness” announcement at the start of the second act. Set against this was Maria Guleghina who seems a bit vocally heavy and extreme for the role of Lisa. Nothing here ignited in any way and the dark, dull black and white production from Elijah Mushinsky only exacerbated these problems. There were a few bright spots though. Felicity Palmer continues to be a strong asset for this house (indeed, houses everywhere) and her Countess was chilling. Mark Delavan is always a pleasure to hear, and Saturday was no exception. Seiji Ozawa led the Met orchestra in a really beautiful performance, but the odds were against him with the cast on stage.

Labels: Met opera reviews 08/09, New York Philharmonic

Peter Seiffert as Tristan and Gerd Grochowski as Kurwenal
Photo: Marty Sohl/Met 2008

I can’t think of a prior opera performance I’ve attended where I’ve been excited by a replacement having to go on for an ill performer. But there’s a first time for everything, and my plans to attend Friday’s Tristan und Isolde performance at the Metropolitan Opera turned out to be fortuitous when the reportedly lackluster Isolde, Katarina Dalayman, called in sick only to be replaced by Waltraud Meier. Conductor Daniel Barenboim has been receiving rave reviews during this run for his debut performances here, and Ms. Meier, the current Isolde of choice throughout Europe, is a long standing favorite and colleague of his. So with apparently very little notice, Ms. Meier agreed to travel from Munich the night before and appear on stage less than 24 hours later in her first performance of Isolde at the Metropolitan. I will have to say she was absolutely riveting. All the hype is true. She is an amazing actress who seems to inhabit the part as much as sing it, which of course she also does exceptionally well. It may not have been note perfect, but Meier is easily the best Isolde I’ve heard with perhaps the exception of Christine Brewer. Her Liebestod was heart wrenching and really transcendent. The crowd received her with an ecstatic ovation at the end for her amazing pinch-hitting success.

Of course, this is Tristan at the Met, so the show had some notable unexpected mishaps. Meier failed to completely extinguish the torch in Act II leaving it to smolder atop the prompters box at the foot of the stage next to her just removed robe. As it continued to smoke and glow, a stage hand entered mid scene, crossed the front of the stage and removed the torch, preventing a fire and allowing the show to continue without interruption. Frankly, the show was going so well, I barely noticed. Peter Seiffert returned to the role of Tristan this evening after lukewarm reviews on opening night and two missed shows due to illness. He sounded quite good tonight and while he may have lacked somewhat in power, he cracked no more frequently than Ben Heppner had in the same role earlier this Spring. Above all, he was heroic, which is pretty much a good thing for Tristan to be. He held his own against Meier’s outstanding performance. Michelle DeYoung reprised her excellent performance from earlier this year and Kwangchul Youn proved to be an adequate if somewhat removed King Marke. Gerd Grochowski was Kurwenal and he sounded good despite a little histrionic acting. In fact, no one quite rose to Meier's level in the acting department.

I must admit that between Barenboim and Meier, this was probably one of the overall most satisfying Tristans I've seen. Dieter Dorn's minimalist, geometric set is still attractive and, though it could be a bit more involving, provides an appropriate ambiance. Some of the more meoldramatic red light flashes have been removed, and overall it works well. There are two more performances both of which Dalayman is scheduled to sing in. Even without Meier, the show is worth seeing for Barenboim's performance. Meier may unfortunately not be a part of them, but for one night, we here in the U.S. got to share in one great performance.

Labels: Met opera reviews 08/09

Alyson Cambridge, Thomas Hampson, and Ginger Costa-Jackson
Photo: Ken Howard/Met 2008

You know you’re in trouble during Act I of the Metropolitan Opera’s new production of Thaïs, when Thomas Hampson awakens from a dream of a seductive dancing Renée Fleming with shouts of horror. It’s difficult to suppress the laughter, but you do, persevering through the next three hours of perhaps one of the most unintentionally funny opera stagings I’ve seen in quite awhile. Later in Act II, Thaïs escapes with similarly umlauted Athanaël following a belly dance sequence that ends in a big wet lesbian kiss. Fleming has the good sense to steer clear of that particular moment. But what’s even crazier is that with all this kitsch and purported desire, John Cox’s production, which was imported from Lyric Opera of Chicago, is more tepid, cold, and unsexy than one would imagine for such a tale. The action is kind-of updated into a garish Lacroix-clad 20th-century version of Egypt, but not so much that you'd notice.

Renée Fleming as Thaïs
Photo: Ken Howard/Met 2008

Ms. Fleming is no doubt at the center of this entire revival. And perhaps the good news is that despite all of the silliness (wait until you see the altar she sits and dies on during the final scene), she delivers a very solid and enjoyable vocal performance. She was a little screechy at the top here, but there are so many other charms and it’s all done so prettily, that the other bits, like a desert made of unusually stiff sand, can be overlooked. Speaking of stiff, did I already mention Thomas Hampson? He’s the other key player, and in some ways has the more difficult part in that Athanaël is the pious and inflexible one right up to the end. But I never really believed him in this. He could have been signing Germont for all I could see, but those dreads do make a girly go wild don't they?

Jesús López-Cobos and his very own set of diacritical marks led the orchestra in a performance that heated up as he went along. By the end, the playing was light and quite beautiful, a lovely compliment to Ms. Fleming’s voice. So is it worth seeing? Of course. How often are you going to see Thaïs anyway and it is well sung. Just don’t expect any miracles. Oh, and if you really can’t get enough of Ms. Fleming, she’ll be at the Metropolitan Opera shop on Friday from 12:30 until 2:00 selling CDs and perfume (why not!).

PSS. Fate has turned my way a little with the Met’s recurring Tristan und Isolde surprise performer rotation. I’m apparently seeing Waltrud Meier covering for an ill Katarina Dalayman tonight. Go figure.

Labels: Met opera reviews 08/09

Gerald Finley and cast
Photo: Ken Howard/Met 2008

No matter whatever shortcomings exist with the Metropolitan Opera’s new production of John Adam’s Doctor Atomic, the fact that it made it to the stage here at all is undoubtedly a major achievement for this company. What effect recent financial woes will have on general director Peter Gelb’s intention to further move the company in this direction down the line remains to be seen, but I was still thrilled on Saturday to be in the New York audience for the performance that was simultaneously being broadcast to theaters around the world. All of this for an opera not even five year’s old and already with a second production, an achievement in this century shared by a very select set of composers. Adams was rightfully present for the curtain call and received probably the largest ovation of the afternoon.

However, despite this, I would say that I would generally agree with the position that while the opera is clearly a masterpiece, this staging does suffer greatly from the absence of Peter Sellars. Not electing to use the production of the librettist and original director was an error on several levels, and while Penny Woolcock’s approach is not without its merits, the new staging is more static and uninvolved than previously. She keens more toward the obvious and literal aspects of the work. And even though she latches on to the current spice-rack approach with the performers on stage, she is able to maintain more of an appropriate focus on the role that ordinary Americans working in Los Alamos played at the time on the development of the bomb. Woolcock shies away from the more hallucinatory elements of the second Act looking for narrative lines where they are clearly not the focus. Woolcock noted that she had originally based her ideas for the staging on Cornelia Parker’s piece Cold Dark Matter in the collection of the Tate Modern in London. She echoed the work throughout the piece by suspending fragments of rubble above the stage. But, while Parker’s work is chilling and provides numerous overtones about the action of destruction and war, the role of these pieces here seemed much more drowned out and insignificant.

Put the production aside, though, and there was much to love. The opera is an intensely moving and musically beautiful work fully realized by Alan Gilbert and the superb Met Opera Orchestra. That everything sounded so good and the amplification worked so well in this house was amazing given the difficulties that have cropped up with them elsewhere. The cast from the prior outings in San Francisco, Chicago, and Amsterdam is largely unchanged. Gerald Finley has grown in the role of J. Robert Oppenheimer to the point where it’s now hard to imagine anyone else singing it. The big Act I aria “Batter My Heart” continues to bring tears to my eyes. The part of Kitty Oppenheimer has been transposed down again after masterful turns in the role by soprano Jessica Rivera in Chicago and Amsterdam. Now back to it’s mezzo roots, Kitty is voiced by Sasha Cooke who admittedly won me over despite my initial reservations and continued preference for the Rivera performance, which has been preserved, thankfully, along with the Sellars production, on DVD from Amsterdam. Eric Owens as Gen. Leslie Groves, Thomas Glenn as Robert Wilson, Richard Paul Fink as Edward Teller, and Meredith Arwady as Pasquilita have all returned in wonderful reprisals of their roles.

While the reception of the opera here has generally been warm in the press, it's somewhat surprising how much bitching and moaning is still going on about the opera itself. But I suppose any composer with this much success and talent is bound to draw a significant number of detractors, so maybe I shouldn't be surprised by the continued grousing about the non-traditional libretto and Adams’ own disinterest with operatic convention. Get over it people. It is precisely these things that make the work so interesting, and change is good. Yes, the libretto is filled with the "trivial." That's pretty much the nature of poetry and exactly what people talk about when they are tense and nervous. Yes, there is amplification and pre-recorded sound. It all works well; the the opera is nothing if not a cohesive whole. Doctor Atomic is one of the first masterpieces of the 21st century, and the Metropolitan Opera has wisely decided not to ignore it for the usual 25 years while waiting for the chattering classes to begrudgingly come around to recognizing this. So, despite my misgivings about the production, I still thought the whole thing a huge success. There's only one performance left on Thursday the 13th of November and if I were in town I'd got see it again.

Labels: Met opera reviews 08/09, Out of Town

John Relyea and Marcello Giordani
Photo: Ken Howard/Met 2008

How do you solve a problem like Berlioz' La Damnation de Faust? Actually, after seeing the really enjoyable new production of this opera/oratorio at the Metropolitan Opera tonight, I think a better question is why more houses don't bite the bullet and stage it more often. This is the second time I’ve seen Berlioz' with a full work-up and, like before, it seems to work quite well on the stage. That prior Los Angeles production was directed by Achim Freyer with all of his trademark masks and white face paint. And while the Robert Lepage production here in New York is about as far away from Freyer’s vision as you could imagine, it shares a common approach in avoiding the temptation to play up or develop a more consistent narrative line and instead concentrates on a flow of phantasmagorical images. As has been widely reported already, Lepage and his Ex Machina cohorts make substantial use of interactive audio-visual technology in this regard. Video images suffuse all of the scenes throughout, projected on screens that appear and disappear on either side of a four-story scaffolding that fills the stage. Much of the video is interactive, responding to the movements of performers on stage. I know some people will grouse that this is all distracting gimmickry, but trust me it is far less painful to look at than half of what the Met still regularly puts on stage (e.g. last night's Traviata). Plus, the images are deliciously post-modern, often using the sets scaffolding to allow for repetition of smaller images with only slight variations between them.

It’s a clever trick that produces some amazing images: trees that wither and die in Mephistopholes' wake, curtains that sway in response to passing characters, and most of all a fantastic sequence where Susan Graham performs “D'Amour ardente flamme” while her own image is projected in gargantuan scale behind her bursting into flames. Lepage’s approach is intensely cinematic. But not in the way that say Woody Allen’s recent Il Trittico in Los Angeles was where certain filmed images are referenced in the staging. Instead, Lepage takes a more literal tactic creating a mise-en-scène that fits into a blocked off 1.85:1 aspect ratio complete with black boxes both below and above the action. It’s a letterboxed opera. In some ways this makes the images all the more powerful, but admittedly there is a lot going on here throughout. The chorus often appears on the floor below the scaffold with only their torsos and heads exposed even in the prominent tavern scene. I love this idea, though. It cuts away potential for whimsical bullshit and keeps the focus on the principal characters. There are also several dancers, acrobats and chesty rock climbers who scale the scaffolding dressed in a variety of red leather get-ups representing demons at various moments. This production is grand if not anything.

With so much to look at, it might be easy to overlook the incredible performance from the Met Orchestra under James Levine. The clarity and energy were stupendous, and I can’t recall when I’ve heard the Met Opera chorus sound so good. The principals are first-rate Met regulars and all give exemplary turns. Susan Graham is captivating as usual. John Relyea is a creepy and sexy Mephistopholes in a puckish red leather outfit complete with feathered hat. Marcello Giordani handles some amazingly high passages quite well. These are spectacular performances not only for their vocal quality, but also for some of the physicality of the production. Graham scales a huge ladder at the end of the show that made me dizzy just watching her. In any event, the Met seems to have a big hit on it's hands. I can't recall the last time I saw a director so warmly received at an opening night curtain call as Lepage was tonight, and hopefully this portends to be a good omen for the upcoming new production of the Ring cycle he will be delivering for the company here in coming seasons. The show runs through December 4th with an HD broadcast on November 29th.

Labels: Met opera reviews 08/09, Out of Town

Anja Harteros as Violetta
Photo: Marty Sohl/Met 2008

Regular readers may wonder why I even bothered attending one of this season’s performances of Verdi's La Traviata at The Metropolitan Opera while in New York. It is certainly not my kind of thing (though one of my favorite operas) and represents that odd combination of a significant number of pre-Gelb era productions in the house which simultaneously contain amazingly great and amazingly horrid elements at the same time.

The reason I went is simple. I love Anja Harteros—and have—since I first saw her in Handel’s Alcina in a brilliant Christof Loy production two years back. This big starring role in New York was too good for me to pass up while in town. She did not disappoint. In fact, I think that possibly outside of Gheorghiu she may be the best Violetta around today. She is a bit of an Act II Violetta as opposed to Gheorghiu’s supremacy in Act I. (I will admit that my favorite Act III performer is still Fleming despite her matronly manner in this role.) But Harteros succeeded on nearly all counts with strong acting that was neither matronly or histrionic to boot. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for the Alfredo, Massimo Giordano. I’ll admit that I was less irritated by him than others in the audience given the number of boos at his final curtain call, but he did spend most of his time gnashing around the stage in a manner that seemed particularly uninvolved with others in the cast.

Granted, Giordano, Harteros and the excellent Germont, Zeljko Lucic were weighted down with the immensely unpleasant and inert Zeffirelli production. Even the vocal glories of Harteros and Lucic failed to make this geriatric monstrosity take flight. I imagine the Sisyphean task of trying to inject passion into a Zeffirelli production is not unlike trying to imagine your grandmother’s current sex life – it may be possible, but you aren’t going to go there. Zeffirelli seemed even unable to please the real grandmas in the audience around me tonight, given that at least the naps of at least two of them commenced before the end of the overture. As irritating as their snoring was over the next three hours, it was blissful relief in comparison to the humming that followed each clapping-associated re-awakening. But this beloved staging lives on and nothing seems to stand in its way - not even the house curtain malfunction that ended up delaying the Act II ball scene by about 10 minutes after an aborted first attempt. But to each his own. And times are hard, sir, and the Met’s got tickets to sell even if on occasion they are the proverbial worse pies in London.

Labels: Met opera reviews 08/09, Out of Town