Out West Arts: Performance at the end of the world

Act II from Palestrina
Photo: Wifried Hösl/Bayerische Staatsoper 2009

I get e-mailed questions all the time about opera. Take for instance this popular gem, “Brian, How come there has never been an operatic version of The Council of Trent?” Of course, it provides me great satisfaction to let those readers know that in fact there is just such an opera, and, as you may have already guessed, it’s in German. It’s the second Act of Hans Pfitzner’s Palestrina, a rather problematic work from a problematic composer that has lived on to this day in revivals primarily in the German-speaking world such as the one that has been running in Munich this year under the musical direction of Simone Young. And while Pfitzner milks more yucks than you can shake a stick at from inter-Cardinal conflict, this hour long scene is strangely out of place in the middle of a theater work that otherwise has nothing to do with the topic. The first and brief third act of Palestrina are, in fact, about the 16th-century Italian composer of the same name. This nearly separate narrative concerns a crisis of artistic inspiration and faith in Palestrina’s composition of the Missa Papae Marcelli, perhaps his most famous work and one that his supporters hope will the make the case for the continued approval of polyphonic music in the rites of the Catholic Church. Of course, Palestrina comes through in the opera—composing the mass, saving polyphony in the church, and getting the approval of Pope Pius IV, all with the intervention of an angelic host and the spirit of his dead wife. It’s actually very operatic stuff for something with a happy ending.

Christopher Ventris
Photo: Wifried Hösl/Bayerische Staatsoper 2009

It’s a deliberately romantic throwback and is firmly rooted in the musical language of Wagner, and Pfitzner’s contemporary, Richard Strauss. Young, the musical director of the Hamburg opera, seems very at home with the piece, even compared to the opera’s most recent advocate, Christian Thielemann, who led the work in the 90s in both London and New York. And Palestrina can be very beautiful especially in its depiction of Palestrina’s overcoming a perceived obsolescence with a major artistic achievement. The current Munich production, directed by Christian Stückl is a bracing vision of black and white with grabbing splashes of neon pink and green. When electric green angels arrive to inspire Palestrina to write a mass he is not interested in, it feels like a major intervention. Stückl’s vision owes more than a little to Achim Freyer including an interest in masks and kabuki-inspired make up. Certain elements are intentionally amateurish in their design to draw attention to their artifice as well, including cardboard cutout stretch limousines that herald in the Pope and others. I found the production consistently interesting, though, and luckily it was the third opera I saw in Munich this week being filmed for a later DVD release.

The Palestrina in this revival is British tenor Christopher Ventris, who sounded like a million bucks here and made the necessary acting commitment to this role. There were many, many other strong supporting voices in this huge cast including Peter Rose, Michael Volle, and Falk Struckmann. But perhaps the voice that most grabbed my attention was that of Christiane Karg who sang the role of Palestrina’s son Ighino. She had the thankless task of singing a part that provides little more than cheerleading and exposition with regards to the other characters on stage. But somehow, Karg made Ighino seem like the moral center of the work. Her lengthy scenes at the bookends of the opera were some of the strongest, and her clear and piercing tone was lovely.

Should Palestrina have a broader acceptance than it does already? Well, maybe not. It certainly was interesting to see in light of the "Recovered Voices" series of operas being produced here in L.A. under the auspices of James Conlon and the Los Angeles Opera precisely because it lies outside of that rubric. Pfitzner was a musically reactionary nationalist, who actually benefited from his, at times, positive relationship with the Third Reich and would certainly not fit into a group of artists whose work may have suffered under the Nazis. He's not shared the best reputation musically or otherwise since that time. However, his opera is an excellent example of late romanticism and provides some insight into the development of German music in the first half of the 20th century. Certainly this is a future DVD worth seeing.

Labels: Opera 09, Out of Town

Eva-Maria Westbroek and Pavel Cernoch
Photo: Wifried Hösl/Bayerische Staatsoper 2009

I hate to admit it, but if I’m being completely honest (not always my best quality) I was not jazzed by Thursday’s performance of Janacek’s Jenůfa here in Munich. It’s a new production from last April now revived as part of the summer opera festival. It got a super-enthusiastic reception from the crowd, the orchestra sounded great, and the soloists were more than adequate. So why am I so cold about the whole thing? It may be in part due to how attached I am to the Olivier Tambosi production most recently on view in the U.S. with Karita Mattila and Anja Silja. With something so superior, everything else may pale in comparison. But I really don’t want to be one of those people so attached to past performances that I can’t move on so it does upset me to think this.

Another factor, of course, may be Barbara Frey’s quite reasonable if unassuming production. It’s a modern dress update, but otherwise hews as closely to the original as you could ask. (Although the chorus members all had on weird metallic partial face make-up as if they were cyborgs or the undead for some reason I haven’t quite figured out yet.) Jenufa lives in a sad little hovel somewhere in Eastern Europe with a wind turbine in her front yard and a whole truckload of frustrated expectations. It’s very gray and very, very plain—which seems completely in line with the opera, but I couldn’t help wanting just a little flash of theater dazzle in there somewhere. It just all seemed so pedestrian. Again I hate being one of those people who go to the opera for “magic” or to be “transported” somewhere, but apparently for tonight I was one of them, because despite many strengths in this production, I wasn’t feeling it.

Of these many assets, I’d like to draw particular attention to perhaps the most convincing and beautifully sung Laca I’ve ever seen from Stefan Margita. Often it’s not really clear why Steva is the catch and Laca isn’t in Jenufa, but here Laca was perfect: costumed to be clearly the less attractive option but with a voice so beautiful that it was heartbreaking at times. Of course, the big stars were Eva-Maria Westbroek and Deborah Polaski. Both benefited from stage direction that emphasized the dowdy, loser sides of their characters' personae as opposed to the primal emotive ones like anger, rage, or fear. Westbroek was completely believable acting-wise and gave a bright, pretty vocal performance. I can't wait to see more of her in the U.S. and, given the frequency with which Strauss and Wagner have been entering her repertoire lately, there is a great deal to look forward to. Polaski’s voice is strong and often piercing, but this was a decidedly non-regal Kostelnička. Again I wanted a little more menace than this most domestic of takes on things, but it was vocally an enticing performance. The evening was conducted by Kirill Petrenko, a new face to me, but one who handled the many beautiful moments in Janacek’s score with clear aptitude. I look forward to seeing him again somewhere soon.

So don’t listen to me. What do I know? Munich's Jenůfa was great and it was my own hang-ups that prevented me from getting behind it 100%.

Labels: Opera 09, Out of Town

Anja Harteros, Wolfgang Koch, and Jonas Kaufmann
Photo: Wilfried Hösl/Bayerische Staatsoper 2009

It’s Wednesday, so it must be Wagner. Specifically, it’s Lohengrin in Munich with a whole crop of positives on paper - music director Kent Nagano conducting, directed by Richard Jones, and starring Anja Harteros as Elsa and Jonas Kaufmann in his first go at the title role. As with the premiere on Sunday, Wednesday’s second performance was met with numerous lusty boos clearly directed at the production. And while I’m aware that this is a de rigeur response to new opera productions in this part of the world, you’d think that at this point the disgust threshold would have been raised amongst the audience by now. But I must admit that by the end of the evening I had some sympathy for the booers given that Richard Jones has created a production that may be interesting and thought provoking, but is fairly difficult to actually like.

The primary tactic is to remove virtually all sense of spectacle and magic from the opera in favor of a domestic drama that revolves around faith. In fact, one might argue that Jones views the Lohengrin story as one about religious fanaticism at its core. When we meet Elsa, she is dressed in work clothes and rabidly going about her own business building a house. Despite the drama and accusations flying around her in Brabant, she barely gives anyone a look as she crosses back and forth through the crowd with bricks and other materials. It turns out, of course, this is all part of her dream about a knight-savior coming to defend and then marry her. She is building their house because that is her dream and the rest will take care of itself. She is upset about her vanished brother as we are reminded by the numerous vermisst posters plastered about the stage and handed out in the theater lobby.

Eventually her knight arrives in silver trainers, track pants, and a baby blue t-shirt. Carrying a stuffed swan from off stage. It’s a decidedly anti-climactic entrance, but soon he has shopping bags placed on the heads of the guards and he's won over enough of the crowd that everyone begins to jump in on building the life-size three-room house on stage. This is an activity that will reach its completion at the start of Act III and provides much of the background action throughout the opera. Meanwhile the pronouncements of the King's Herald, sung here by Evgeny Niktin, are made over a loud speaker with accompanying video on two small circular screens high above the stage enhancing the cultish feel of the staging. As Jones and Wagner enter the home stretch, everyone is won over and now sport similar baby blue tees despite Elsa's nagging questions now stoked by Ortrud and Friedrich von Telramund. Of course she finds out her husbands name and origin much to her chagrin. And as she catches on to what is about to transpire and that she, and to an extent the community, have failed this primary test of faith, she attempts to put her hand over Lohengrin’s mouth to prevent his speaking his name. She fails, and though she gets her brother back, the meeting hall curtain raises to reveal a stage full of cots with hand guns on them. All of the townspeople soon occupy these cots and prepare for a mass suicide as the lights go down, the leader of their cult having abandoned them for their lack of faith.

Anja Harteros and Jonas Kaufmann
Photo: Wilfried Hösl/Bayerische Staatsoper 2009

Or at least that’s my version of things. I’m sure there are others. The good news is that regardless of how daunting the staging was, the musical values of the production were superb. Let’s talk about how great Anja Harteros is. Is there anything she can’t sing? I’ve not heard it yet and she was clean and bright and brilliant here. Jonas Kaufmann wasn’t bad either. His voice is probably a little bit lower than you might choose for your dream Lohengrin, but he handles the part often beautifully and with real feeling. Nagano and the orchestra were in top form. I always admired his Wagner conducting when he was in L.A. and he really delivers here. The rest of the cast was strong with perhaps the exception of Michaela Schuster as Ortrud, who often seemed distanced and lost in the thrall of the orchestra. Otherwise there was no bellowing and the opera had a light quality one doesn't always associate with Wagner's music, though it really should be there. There are five more performances in July before a return run in October so for those in Munich there are plenty of chances to catch this first-rate performance even if it comes with a heavy dose of bitter medicine.

Labels: Opera 09, Out of Town

Edita Gruberova and Pavol Breslik in Lucrezia Borgia
Photo: Wilfried Hösl/Bayerische Staatsoper 2009

I must admit that Munich is one of my favorite opera towns. Especially during their festival month in July when you get to revisit the past season’s biggest hits anew, often in the same week or so. Plus it’s a beautiful town and still oh so less expensive than London. And opera-wise it’s a dream come true. You never know what to expect on stage – these are the folks that brought you the Planet of the Apes Rigoletto and the Brokeback Mountain Eugene Onegin, so things are almost guaranteed to be interesting. There are stars galore from everywhere onstage, but best of all are the Munich stable of stars who appear here frequently, including Vesselina Kassarova. Anja Harteros, and, of course, Edita Gruberova.

Gruberova has become a genre all her own in recent years here with one new bel canto production after another at a point in her career where many others are slowing down. Like Mr. Domingo, she keeps going and going with Norma, Roberto Devereux and, this year, Lucrezia Borgia, which she appeared in on Monday. She’s quite fun to watch. An excellent actress who maintains a large part of her vocal skills. She handles the trills and flourishes with ease, though she did have some trouble reaching for the lowest notes in the part. I’ll admit she seemed a little shakier to me than in recent outings. Still, it’s a turn one could easily hold up to Renée Flemings’ portrayal in her prior outings in this material. Fleming may have the warmth, but Gruberova can still manage the coloratura passages.

Even though it was clearly Gruberova’s show, there was plenty else going on. Pavol Breslik was Gennaro and came off as very commanding. Vocally he was strong except for the very top and with all of the shirtless hijinks called for here he does an admirable job. My favorite, though, was Alice Coote as Maffio Orsini. She was probably the most vocally controlled and on target throughout the whole evening and is a master of the pants role. I should also give a big shout out to fellow blogger Christian Van Horn who sounded great as Astolfo. He’s running the gamut in Munich these days so you’re likely to catch him in any of a number of things. Bertrand de Billy was in the pit for what seemed a bit of a lazy run through. Maybe it was just Monday, but I could have used a little more oomph from the orchestra myself.

I should also note this was a new production from director, and Munich favorite, Christoph Loy. So while it didn’t have a movie theme, it was about as far from traditional as you could get. It was unusually minimal, even by Loy’s standards, with nothing more than a large black sloped riser, and a gray wall behind with giant light box letters spelling out Lucrezia Borgia. (The "B" gets ripped off the wall and smashed to the floor when Gennaro goes to deface the family crest in Act I.) The wall slowly moves off stage right little by little over the next three hours until it is gone. The cast is dressed in upscale school boy outfits for most of the show with Gruberova appearing in a number of vamped up outfits from something you might expect Borgia to wear, to a men's suit complete with Marilyn Monroe wig. In the final act, she appears in a gothic dress and long blond fright wig which she removes once she realizes that she has (again) poisoned her son. It’s a gesture similar to the one Loy employed with Gruberova in Roberto Devereux, although I think the effect is somewhat different here. And while there are a number of visually interesting images that come out of this evening, I’ll admit that it isn’t quite as engaging as some of Loy’s other work. It’s a little too reliant on boys behaving badly for the course of its action. But you’ll be able to judge for yourself considering the performance was one of several being filmed for an upcoming DVD release.

Labels: Opera 09, Out of Town

Dalibor Jenis and Angela Marambio
Photo: Catherine Ashmore/ROH 2009

I hate thinking about opera as a sport. And by this I mean taking opera as a purely physical activity where the joy comes from watching performers complete certain acts with their body, in this case their vocal chords, in ways that border on the superhuman. There are those opera fans for whom the excitement of the physical singing process is the end-all-and-be-all of the experience – Did so-and-so hit the note exactly dead on? Did they accomplish it with the correct technique? Was their breathing appropriate? etc. I’m not expert about vocal technique, I’ll admit it. I have opinions, as uninformed as the next guy’s, and I do dislike some performer’s vocal mannerisms more than others. But as much as I may deplore the zealous attention to vocal performance in opera espoused by others, I must admit, sometimes, you just can’t get around it. Especially when it's completely missing or just plain bad.

Which leads me to the rest of my weekend in London and the Royal Opera House. After a thrilling against-all-odds performance from Joyce DiDonato as Rosina on Saturday, I was greeted with the ever familiar evidence of human failings on Sunday when I arrived for the matinee of Verdi’s Un Ballo in Maschera to find that Ramon Vargas, who was cast as Riccardo, had called in sick with a cold. (I just knew I should have taken those Glyndebourne Rusalka return tickets when I had the chance, but no….) Vargas’ replacement was Roberto Aronica whom I recall hearing around here and there over the years, but not having fond memories of. Within minutes of appearance, however, I knew it was going to be a long afternoon. He nearly completely fell apart. I don’t just mean cracking or a few missed notes, I mean teeth clenching out-of-control. Now in all fairness, the audience was informed at the start of Act II that Aronica was suffering from allergies and begged our indulgence. What the allergy was is unclear. (I know I had some of the same issues myself since arriving in London.) But, there was undoubtedly plenty more indulgence to be begged over the next two hours.

Things did get a little better. Especially after the focus shifted to his cast mates Dalibor Jenis, who sang Renato, and Angela Marambio, the evening’s Emelia. Jenis was solid and often exciting, and when he wasn’t shouting, he was fairly watchable. But this is not what you would call fun. And after the disastrous Barbiere staging from the night before, to see this 2005 Mario Martone production was only mildly relieving – kind of like going out of the fire and into the frying pan. Scenery was minimal, drab, and uninspired. The whole show is essentially a build up to a singly visual trick in the ball scene that is put to so little use in an opera with so many possibilities, it was puzzling at best. A giant mirror, which is initially honed in on the auditorium, was lifted to provide viewers a complete view of the stage floor, back to front. While ball goers in their purported colonial American gowns wandered about the black empty downstage area, the reflection offered a view of a sunken pit immediately behind them upstage with a red floor, several doors in and out of the area and two staircases on either side leading to the upstage area. Then Martone and his team promptly ignore the set up. All of the activity between the characters takes place downstage with short moments of supernumeraries running up steps from below. The point of it all is beyond me. Nice trick, but the action everyone is focused on in the climactic scene is happening elsewhere.

It wasn’t a total loss, Maurizio Benini conducted the Royal Opera Orchestra with zing and real flair. But while they are quite worth hearing, I’d check about any cast cancellations if you’ve got tickets before heading to the theater in this run if I were you. All right, it's time for me to move on to Munich.

Labels: Opera 09, Out of Town

Joyce DiDonato before the leg break in Barbiere
Photo: Bill Cooper/ROH 2009

All right, Los Angeles. Consider this your fair warning. Fall is not that far away, and, if everything goes off as planned at Los Angeles Opera, there will be at least one show that is guaranteed to be a huge success. That particular production will be a revival of Rossini’s Il Barbiere di Siviglia which the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion hasn’t seen in awhile and will feature a super all-star cast including Joyce DiDonato as Rosina, Juan Diego Florez as Count Almaviva and Nathan Gunn as Figaro. How am I so sure? Well here in London, I got the chance to see a dry run with almost the same cast (minus Gunn) and I can tell you it was musical dynamite. I know big stars aren’t everything, but these two in this opera which they’ve sung so many times in so many places are simply superb. DiDonato’s Rosina is lively and controlled with beautiful top notes and dazzling runs. She can even perform it under the most incredible circumstances. DiDonato, the original Yankee Diva, broke her fibula during Act I. (You can check out her first hand report and photos on her own blog.) At the end of the fist act it was announced that she had an "ankle sprain", but she persevered above and beyond the call of duty in Act II with a limp, a crutch, and plenty of moxie. Vocally, you’d never have noticed a thing. Talk about an artist with unbelievable commitment. I don't think I'd have the wherewithal to carry on with a broken leg in my job. Here's to you Ms. DiDonato, and here's wishing you a very speedy recovery.

Juan Diego Florez and the cast of Barbiere
Photo: mine 2009

With such a great performance in the face of physical adversity, it might be easy to overlook the rest of this incredible cast. But then again, we're talking about Juan Diego Florez. He’s athletic, charming, and wonderfully solid throughout his range. He’s got great comic timing and when he’s up against the likes of Alessandro Corbelli’s Dr. Bartolo and Ferruccio Furlanetto’s Don Basilio that is an immense task. Yes, you read that right, Furlanetto and Corbelli were both present in a significant piece of luxury casting. The only wild card in the mix was the rather last minute replacement for Simon Keenlyside who was originally scheduled as Figaro but withdrew form the run at the last minute due to health reasons. Pietro Spagnoli wasn’t bad, and in fact still made for a funny and forceful Figaro entering from the rear of the auditorium and joking with audience members on his way toward the stage. There were celebrities in the pit as well as Royal Opera Music Director Antonio Pappano led this revival with incredible care and distinction. It was light and breezy, but detailed throughout in a first rate performance from the orchestra.

Ironically, an evening of such high musical quality and theatrical bravery occurred amidst perhaps the worst opera staging I can remember seeing in a long time. Moshe Leiser and Patrice Caurier's contributions to this Barbiere consist of little more than a lightly paneled box and a handful of commedia masks. It’s great for reflecting voices, but does almost nothing else. Panels occasionally move aside to reveal doors and windows when they are called for. Once in awhile a piece of furniture is wheeled in. Otherwise it’s nothing more than a concert performance with bright costumes. Except that is when things rev up at the end of Act I. The box in an effort to mirror the emotional frenzy of the cast on stage rises up and tilts back and forth on hydraulics to one side and another. Nothing says zany like a slow-motion 4.7 tumbler. The staging is neither attractive or insightful, and barely functions as a set at all. A huge disappointment even with the five or six heart-shaped balloons above the keystone cop chorus at the end. The good new in L.A. is that we won’t be burdened with this royally inept staging but get to keep some big portions of the great cast. Plan ahead now, you’ve been warned.

Labels: Opera 09, Out of Town

Acrobats in L'Amour de Loin at ENO
Photo: Johan Persson/ENO 2009

Kaija Saariaho’s L’Amour de Loin is an opera I hold near and dear to my heart. Especially so in the original Peter Sellars staging from the 2000 Salzburg Festival, which was later brought to Santa Fe and elsewhere and filmed for a wonderful DVD in Finland under the baton of Esa-Pekka Salonen. This being said, it may be hard for me to have a completely reasonable perspective on the UK premiere of the work at the English National Opera that opened on July 3. Despite these trepidations, though, I figured it was another chance to hear this darkly beautiful work live again, so no matter what, it couldn’t be that bad. Plus I'm a firm believer in not getting too stuck in one's ways or one's perceptions about what is and isn't "intended" or "appropriate" when it comes to opera. So, it wasn’t bad at all. In fact this production of L'Amour de Loin is quite good.

Photo: Johan Persson/ENO 2009

Now, let it be said that there is nothing in this production remotely as great as Dawn Upshaw supine and half submerged in a stage flooded with water, but it was filled with beautiful imagery from the mind of Daniele Finzi Pasca. Pasca is best known for his work with Cirque du Soleil, and, while I know that seems like anathema for more rigid opera fans, for an opera that is as ethereal as Tristan und Isolde to begin with, not being earthbound is a decided asset. The show is in fact populated by acrobats and aerialists. Each of the three primary characters, Jaufré Rudel, Clémence, and the Pilgrim have two doppelgangers or "spirits" who don’t necessarily always accompany them on stage, but do perform some highwire feats when the characters are around or referenced by others in their absence. The doubles are not acting out the action described by the vocalists, but are non-earthbound counterparts. The brightly colored stage is spare, often filled with more gossamer fabric than you can shake a stick at. Or should I saw more gossamer fabric than you can shake on a stick, or undulate, or send flying stageward from the upper balcony over the heads of the audience. It does give the whole thing a mystical feel and fits well with the North African and Middle Eastern references in the libretto. Light is another major motif, and in the final chorus, the performers are armed with mirrors to reflect intense beams from the stage out into the theater as Jaufré and his two "spirits" descend from above on cables. There are, of course, multiple references to the sea both in the fabric and in a series of video projections used in Act IV and elsewhere.

Some of that fabric in L'Amour de Loin
Photo: Johan Persson/ENO 2009

But all this airborne activity doesn’t always save the day. Some scenes seemed to bewilder the design team such as Rudel’s arrival in Tripoli near death. Here, his double is wheeled out on a table kept to the side of the stage and the principals encircle him in a way that breaks much of the dramatic tension over his impending death since its not really clear of the six or seven figures on stage, who is singing what to whom. Then there is the matter of the two carnival huskers who appear at the start of each act with a cart used to perform a shadow puppet show of their own, referencing events to follow. These two at times seem a throwback to a circus performance not directly related in tone to the rest of what’s going on. And despite all of the motion, the show more often than not is an essentially stand and deliver affair for the vocalists, which given the nature of the libretto is admittedly hard to avoid. But Pasca doesn't seem to know what to do with the singers unless they're being tossed about above the stage.

Joan Rodgers as Clémence with Rudel stand-in
Photo: Johan Persson/ENO 2009

Vocally things are more solid. Roderick Wiliams sings Rudel with strength and often a good amount of warmth. Faith Sherman's Pilgrim is clear and brightly toned and Joan Rodgers' Clémence is solid if not dark or haunting. Both of the women are burdened with odd costumes—the Pilgrim looking rather outer space-like and Clémence in a ridiculously matronly outfit when she first appears that can drive one to distraction. I like to think that most operas can stand translation into other languages, but I must admit, I felt L'Amour de Loin lost something in this transition from French to English, which made it seem less poetic and more pedestrian. All of this was under ENO’s very talented music director, Edward Gardner, who championed the four performances of this opera to be seen here over the next week as he has other 20th-century works including Ligeti's Le Grand Macabre, which will open the next ENO season. He has a good command of Saariaho's score, and, while I felt the ENO orchestra was a little circumspect at times, it was still one beautiful opera. So is it worth seeing? If you're in London you'd be foolish to miss it. It's a rare opportunity to see something remarkably beautiful. And even if it isn't in the original wrapper, any opera worth its salt must live on through alternate visions of its core attributes. And so L'Amour de Loin lives on.

Labels: Opera 09, Out of Town