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[NQV] Opera reviews
L'Elisir d'Amore
Music: Gaetano Donizetti
Libretto: Felice Romani
230th MET performance (12/19/96)
Conductor: Carlo Rizzi
Production: John Copley
Giannetta: Carol Meyer
Nemorino: Richard Leech
Adina: Andrea Rost
Belcore: Gino Quilico
Dulcamara: Leo Nucci
Not unexpectedly, I had barely made it through days of lack of
sleep (as well as misguided heartache) to pay off at the last
possible minute just before school recess way-overdue academic
debts from years past as part of a bargain to gear myself up to
general exams next month, the belated hurdle before ABD status.
I had arranged to share a car ride down to New York on Thursday
12/19, and no thanks to the maddening New York traffic got into
town in the nick of time to unload my luggage at home in Queens
and dash off to Manhattan (still in jeans and sneakers! <gasp>)
to catch the last performance of L'Elisir d'Amore this season
at the MET. Predictably from the previous weekend's broadcast,
it turned out to be a pleasant but rather humdrum affair which
nonetheless made for a soothing soporific (in view of my half-
awake condition) thanks to the indefatigably delightful music.
In her MET debut season, the Romanian soprano Andrea Rost sang
Adina proficiently but rather facelessly, lacking in "personality",
be it the pesky pertness of the annoyingly coy Kathleen Battle
in the telecast of 4 seasons back (which I had seen on TV), or
the light-hearted and self-assured mischief and nonchalence of
the ever-so-dazzling Ruth Ann Swennson in the revival 2 seasons
back (which I had both seen in person and heard on radio), never
mind the goofily charming insouciance of the bubbly (and retired)
Judith Blegen in the old production of over a dozen or so years
back (which I had seen a video of the 1981 telecast). The minx-
like approach to the role wasn't invalid in theory, but not when
it turned out to be a bit too vixen-like in practice. Ms. Rost
apparently didn't get to play her strongest hand in this debut
season for she had reportedly made waves elsewhere as Violetta,
a role for which her warm but short-topped voice and overdriven
temperament might be better suited (at least for the latter acts).
(Inexplicably, the MET seems hell-bent on reviving La Traviata
every so often of late with the third-rate Veronica Villaroel in
it!) As Adina she simply failed to leave any distinctive mark
other than a generically pleasant voice.
Faceless though Andrea Rost was as Adina, at least she was not so
worrisomely miscast as my be^te-noir (and my ex-non-bf's matinee
idol) Richard Leech as Nemorino. Not that Mr. Leech couldn't come
across as a believable redneck country bumpkin as he seemed to have
chosen to portray, it's just that he didn't, or perhaps couldn't,
sing it that way! I was nearly jolted from my seat (in spite of
my half-awake condition) when he launched into his opening aria
"Quanto e bella": the voice sounded so completely shot and in such
ragged tatters that I couldn't believe my ears! Fortunately, he
warmed up considerably after that inauspicious beginning, and in
relief I could temporarily cast aside my sympathetic worries about
a ruined voice, but characteristically and most annoyingly the man
seemed unable or unwilling to sing below a forte -- well, he tried
and it didn't work at first, so he reverted back to the bad habits
of pushing the volume which came out loud and clear and ringing and
all so out of character for one of the most sweetly affecting roles
in the lyric tenor repertoire! And quite predictably the ever so
mindless MET audience clapped like crazy after a monotonously loud
and ringing "Una furtiva lagrime" as if it was no different than a
pot-boiling "La donna e mobile"! This invariably loud singing would
at least be more suitable for such a rake as Verdi's roguish Duke
of Mantua (or even Puccini's callous Pinkerton) but definitely not
Donizetti's gently shy and naive Nemorino! Impressed though I was
by Mr. Leech's healthy athleticism (both vocally when he bellowed
through the rest of the role after a shaky start, and dramatically
when he balanced himself on one foot while juggling oranges in the
air!), for that one moment I couldn't bring myself to join in the
mindless applause for his lack of musicality in butchering such a
beautiful aria of introspective tenderness.
Gino Quillico's surprisingly gruff portrayal of the bumbling yet
gallant Sergeant Belcore was an even greater let-down than Richard
Leech's Nemorino. Vocally Quillico was rather uneven -- I simply
couldn't understand his juggling between an overparted Escamillo
in last month's Carmen, and an overdriven Belcore in this month's
L'Elisir: both were serious miscalculations, the former more on
vocal and the latter on dramatic terms, quite uncharacteristic of
this stylish baritone whom I had greatly enjoyed before -- but his
over-the-top caricaturization for cheap comic effects to make for
a silly and unsympathetic and therefore, most eggregiously IMHO,
unattractive Belcore, not to mention the inexplicably sadistic
treatment he gave to Nemorino, were rather misguided to say the
least! Leo Nucci, back from the dead after years of overreaching
himself, was surprisingly better than expected as the quack Doctor
Dulcamara, which he neither overplayed like a buffoon (a` la Enzo
Dara) nor got stuck out like a stiffly unfunny sore thumb (a` la
Paul Plishka). Vocally he seemed to be on the mend, which didn't
mean much for the once long overrated voice that he has, but at
least he managed to convey some element of style and humor utterly
lacking in the other leads. Surprisingly, and sad to say, the sole
bright spot in this lackluster (not to mention corny, no thanks to
the tastelessly cheesy production!) affair was the minor role of
Giannetta sung by Carol Meyer, who could conceivably make for a
more effective Adina than the richer-voiced Andrea Rost herself!
Carlo Rizzi's conducting was at best workman like, and the stage
directions were a bit much on the slap-stick. Sad to say, when
a comic work was misguidedly overplayed for easy comic effects it
simply ceased to be funny! It's a pity, since the cast didn't
sing all that poorly, miscast though it was and therefore didn't
click on the whole. And it was only Donizetti's delightful music
that saved the show from falling flat like champagne without
bubbles (oh well, this elixir of love was burgundy of a heavier
vintage after all!)
Tosca
Music: Giacommo Puccini
Libretto: Victorien Sardou, Luigi Illica, Giuseppe Giacosa
785th MET performance (12/20/96)
Conductor: Christian Badea
Production: Franco Zeffirelli
Angelotti: Richard Bernstein
Sacristan: David Evitts
Cavaradossi: Vincenzo La Scola
Tosca: Carol Vaness
Scarpia: Jean-Philippe Lafont
Spoletta: Charles Anthony
Sciarrone: Bradley Gavin
Shepherd: Andrew Jablon
Jailer: vaclovas Daunoras
I had approached this performance with some dread and was pleasantly
surprised. The characteristically overblown Zeffirelli treatment
didn't impressed me from the video of the inaugural telecast some
dozen years ago, but it worked impressively well in the theater, not
least in the stunning pageantry of the Te Deum at the close of Act I
whose full impact and grandeur couldn't be captured within the camera
frame. The somber red hues of Act II which made for an imposingly
intimidating atmosphere in the theater simply looked drab on video.
Act III was much more tastefully restrained than expected, but the
full impact of the movable two-tiered set (with Cavaradossi's jail
cell underneath the battlements) -- which allowed for a more logical
and believable staging of the action -- is simply lost in the smooth
transition of scenes on video. Now to the singing itself:
Callas' Tosca is hors-concours in terms of dramatic impact (to wit
the videos of Act II, especially the 1964 Covent Garden telecast,
even when Callas was in ragged voice). With the same provenance in
Zeffirelli's production, Vaness' obviously modeled much of Act II
after Callas' prototype, at least dramatically if not vocally! I
must confess to having been underwhelmed by Vaness' forrays beyond
Mozart in the past -- if not outright disappointed in a misguided
assumption of the three/four leads in Les Contes d'Hoffmann a few
seasons back at the MET -- but I was quite taken by this Tosca of
hers (I hadn't heard the 1992 recording under Muti, lukewarm were
the reviews upon its appearance). Such was her stage presence in
this glamorous diva-esque role (for which she more than looked the
part) that I found myself fixated on her characterization of Tosca
in which she proved to be so remarkably and persuasively attentive
to the nuances of the music, text, and dramatic pulse! (Quite a
contrast to the awkwardly miscast Hildergard Behrens in the video
telecast of this MET production!) Vaness' voice might be a size
or two small for the standard screaming Tosca, but she was vastly
superior and preferable to an Eva-Marton-clone Maria Spacagna who
sang a rather hammily dramatic Tosca for the Boston Lyric Opera
earlier this fall. (I will wait with baited breath to hear the
MET broadcast of Maria Guleghina's Tosca this weekend, before
deciding whether or not to regret copping out of the artic chill
on New Year's Day to attend the alternate cast of Guleghina/Larin/
Morris). Dramatically alert, a Vaness in good voice acquitted
herself quite well even in the hysterical moments of Act II (and
its high C's, as well as the climactic one in the Act III narrative),
and excelled in the more lyrical passages of Act I, not to mention
the showstopper "Vissi d'arte": limpid in tone and heart-rending
in effect. Well focused and projected (in the MET's cavernous
hall) her voice soared quite beautifully over the surging pulses
of the music, not least through the tricky bursts of fioriture
peppering the arching melodies of the Act I duet.
Vaness had a worthy partner in Vincenzo La Scola who seemed to be
coming into vocal and artistic maturity after his mixed recording
debuts of several years back. He stole the show -- over Vanness'
Tosca at that -- with his magnificent solos, and deservingly won
the most rapturous ovations at the end curtain calls. The voice
was warm and glowingly sweet, more lyrical than spinto in quality,
smooth through the passagio and consistent in color throughout the
registers, well-focused and ringing through with a nice ping on top
(albeit very slightly pushed now and then on the high Bb's, but not
too noticeably, and not out of character with the dramatic moment).
"Recondita armonia" came across quite self-assuredly, if a bit too
extrovertly! "E luce van le stelle" was meltingly sung, at times
intoxicating in introspective reverie and nostalgia, at times urgent
and desperate in passion, its nuances beautifully judged and executed
within a persuasive structure and without vocal self-indulgence.
Jean-Philippe Lafont didn't have a rich and juicy baritone for a
suave Scarpia, and seemed to be playing it straight rather than
insinuating in projecting a sense of intimidation and menace rather
than eliciting fearsome awe. Imposing though a figure he cut, the
Act I entrance was lacking in impact (no thanks to the massive
grandeur of the set and the wild distractions on stage). The Act
II dramatic give-and-take wasn't so much memorable on his part as
effective in providing foil and support for Vaness' Callas-like
dramatization of Tosca (similar down to the last-resort desperate
lunge at the knife, but only after having taken notice of it and
put it aside back down on the table). Her vocalization rather than
declamation of "E avanti a lui ...," however, was a bit too placid
to sustain the dramatic tension beyond Scarpia's death, and what
a surprisingly violent and dramatic death it was, as the writhing
Lafont sudenly arched up on his back and fell down in a resounding
thud on stage!
Solid performance from the three leads, and excellent support from
the comprimarios (best of whom was David Evitts' Sacristan), and
sensitive conducting from the pit, they all contributed to quite a
satisfying evening for a "shabby little shocker" of an opera!
As an aside poscript to this Tosca review: one of the delightful
rarities/oddities I snatched up at Tower Records on West 4, was a
2-CD French-language anthology of Puccini excerpts from La Boheme,
Madama Butterfly, and Tosca. These Tosca excerpts were not new to
CD, but I had refrained from investing in the 4-CD set of Regine
Crespin: Un Portrait, and so this compilation is much more useful
and attractive. Not that I haven't heard Tosca in French before
(I had a CD of excerpts with Jane Rhodes in the title role) but
this performance was simply revelatory, and surely ranks with the
best IMHO among the two dozen plus recorded/video/broadcast Toscas
I own and/or have heard! Highly recommended, and not just as a
curiosity item to those who like to explore opera in the "wrong
language"! Regine Crespin was simply in glorious voice in 1961,
and it's a pity that she didn't record the role complete in these
French-language excerpts (much of Act II was cut, and the end of
Act III as well!) AFAIK, she didn't record the role in Italian
either; I don't know whether she ever performed it on stage and
about undergrounds though (even though she did talk about it in
the none-too-interesting documentary about Tosca hosted by Robert
Merrill). Oh well, these French-language excertps are magnifique!
And so they will more than do for now! :-)
Hansel and Gretel (sung in English translation)
Music: Engelbert Humperdinck
Libretto: Adelheid Wette
227th MET performance (12/23/96)
Conductor: Andrew Davis
Production: Nathaniel Merrill
Gretel: Dawn Upshaw
Hansel: Jennifer Larmore
Gertrude: Ruth Falcon
Peter: Timothy Noble
The Sandman: Margaret Latimore
The Dewfairy: Korliss Uecker
The Witch: Marilyn Zschau
Like Tosca, Hansel and Gretel turned out to be another pleasant
for me, but rather from underexposure to it in the past -- having
initially failed to warm up to the Unitel film of Sir Georg Solti's
Salzburg star-studded production of the late 1980s. The current
MET revival of the enchanting Merrill production (dated to 1967 at
that!) finally allowed me to appreciate the work as a little gem
of preciously beautiful music. And despite my initial reservation,
I have to admit that hearing the opera in English (rather than
German!) made quite a difference in my reception of the work,
purism or no purism, and snobbery or no snobbery! Having just
heard the Overture over a month ago in concert with Seiji Ozawa
conducting the Boston Symphony, I found it easier to get attuned
to its lovely music this time. Though not quite as lush overall,
but sporting a possibly richer brass section, the superb MET
orchestra played this rich score gloriously under the direction
of Andrew Davis. (The heavenly beautiful orchestral interlude
at the end of Act I struck me as quite a revelatory experience!)
The singing was strong on the whole. Much to my surprise, Dawn
Upshaw more than lived up to her overrated reputation! Perhaps
Gretel was a good role for her monochromatically bland smallish
voice, which nonetheless came across nice and clear in projection
and focus. The greater surprise is how much more flattering Ms.
Upshaw's voice compared to that of the much-touted mezzo-superstar-
wannabe Jennifer Larmore who sounded uncharacteristically spread
and hollow in the house on occasions! Maybe she was having an off
night, or that Hansel wasn't the best among her many trouser roles!
Nonetheless the voices complemented one another well and blended
beautifully in the ethereal evening prayer at the end of Act I.
Even more impressively, the two were dramatically on the mark to
make for a jovial and fetching pair of adolescent siblings, at
times childish and fun-loving, at times confused and frightened,
at times timid and thoughtful, but all the while pure of heart
and of mind as only children can. The diminutive and ever so
cutesie Ms. Upshaw made for an adorably petite and jumpy Gretel
who bubbled with bright-eyed excitement and insouciance, while
the sensuous Ms. Larmore transformed herself quite persuasively
into a jolly tomboy more perky than brash in demeanor.
As the parents, the bearish Timothy Noble sang a magnificent
good-natured father with his richly resonnant baritone, while
the screechy spinto of Ruth Falcon nearly went out of control
in a rather malevolent characterization of the stressed out
(and apparently not too loving or indulgent) mother. Marilyn
Zschau made for a hysterically and disgustingly funny rather
than menacing green-tongued (!) Witch, her hooty voice and
over-the-top antics might be of questionable taste to some
but made for quite a hoot, promting shrieks more of delightful
laughter than startled fear from young members of the audience!
(I had never seen so many children at an opera before!) The
comprimario roles were well-sung. The sets and costumes were
appropriately charming, not least the magnificent 14 angels
in the dream musical interlude at the end of Act I. The extra
stage businesses, particularly the insects dances (by a children
ballet corp), could be a bit distracting, but otherwise the
stage directions and choreography were nicely on the mark --
including angels desconding from heaven, and the witch ride
on a broomstick! And in a surprising, but understandable bit
of departure from traditional order of curtain calls, Marilyn
Zschau took over the last bow (over the joint leads) by flying
down literally on her broomstick upon the delightful cheers
of a cheering audience both on and off stage!
Sunset Boulevard
Music: Andrew Lloyd Weber
Book & Lyrics: Don Black & Christopher Hampton
Conductor: Kevin Stites
Director: Trevor Nunn
Production: John Napier
Norma Desmond: Elaine Paige
Joe Gillis: Alan Campbell
Max von Mayerling: George Hearn
Betty Schaeffer: Alice Ripley
Cecil B. DeMille: Rod Loomis
Artie Green: Jordan Leeds
I obligingly followed my sister, brother and his TWO Japanese
female friends (who were vacationing in New York and staying
at my parents), to a Broadway matinee show on Friday 12/27/96.
After all, it had been rather anti-social of me to go off alone
to the opera all this time (for I had long given up on inviting
reluctant and unappreciative family members to the opera, thereby
sparing not only them of unnecessary aural-visual torture, but
also myself of the inordinate financial strain of buying multiple
tickets (as many as six rather than one on occasions!)) and this
time it was my brother who was paying for the tickets anyway! So
along we went to see ALW's most recent (albeit already 2-year old)
megahit Sunset Boulevard at the Minskoff Theater. Well, to put it
briefly and bluntly, it was at best kitsch of the most vacuous sort.
This was simply a far cry down the ladder from Phantom of the Opera,
which I could find something to like and enjoy, and not merely as
a fancy spectacle but possibly as a viable example of modernday
rock-opera (never mind the charge of plagiarism from Puccini's
La Fanciulla del West for the "Music of the Night" theme/motif).
By comparison Sunset Boulevard had little substance in either
plot/book/lyrics or music to redeem itself: the over-recycled
bits of catchy tunes and phrases -- such as "The greatest star
of all," "New ways to dream," "The perfect year" verged on the
banal; and even "As if we never said goodbye" falls rather flat
besides "Don't cry for me Argentina," "Think of me," and "Music
of the Night" among other ALW standards. Perversely, the best
bits of music and wit here came in the comic parodies "The lady's
paying" and its recycled reprise "Eternal youth is worth a little
suffering"!
Singing was so obviously miked, without much of any attempt to hide
the wiring down the actors' backs (most glaringly when Norma bared
her back on the massage table briefly in Act II!) Except for a few
full-voiced climactic moments, most of the singing is either soft
crooning or half-spoken declamation, especially for Norma Desmond,
an effective vehicle for Gleen Close (who obviously declaimed better
than she could sing) in the American premieres in the wake of Patti
Lupone's lukewarm success in London. Elaine Paige surely lacked
Glenn Close stage presence, and seemed all the more dwarfed in the
overblown set no thanks to her diminutive physical stature. She
sang well enough, but there was not much in the music to carry the
show in the first place, and she had to resort to some of the most
exaggerated and campy gestures to strive for dramatic effect, and
none too successfully at that: without the kind of authoritative
(and "authentic") star-presence of someone like Glenn Close, what
Elaine Paige attemped somehow came across as bad campy send-up of
a self-delusory starlet rather than an ageing diva whose time had
passed beyond her recognition. Alan Campbell acted a bit stiffly
but looked the part of a handsome toyboy, cutting a dashing figure
in tails. He didn't have much of a singing voice, and was therefore
more comfortable in the declamatory portions of his largely narrative
role. George Hearn displayed a few nice touches of pianissimi in
head voice, but couldn't do much more with the limited music and
characterization. Alice Ripley was more or less typecast as the
generic sour-voiced ingenue second female lead, and no more than
that. The same could be said about the other comprimarios, and
the ensemble were tenuously utilized in a few disjointed scenes.
Except for the glitteringly gold-lit mansion with a sweeping curve
of a grand staircase, the set was rather spartan and abstractly
evoked by photographic projections (from the 1951 film with Gloria
Swanson and William Holden) on scrims which were nonetheless rather
cleverly manipulated. All in all, the star of the show was the set,
and a rather static one at that; and the music, like the plotline,
seemed to be characterized by stagnation, to which the ending came
more as a relief rather than denouement.
Cosi Fan Tutte
Music: Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
Libretto: Lorenzo da Ponte
Conductor James Levine
Production: Lesley Koenig
MET telecast (12/30/96)
Ferrando: Jerry Hadley
Guglielmo: Dwayne Croft
Don Alfonso: Thomas Allen
Fiordiligi: Carol Vaness
Dorabella: Suzanne Mentzer
Despina: Cecilia Bartoli
147th MET performance (11/27/96)
148th MET performance (11/30/96)
Ferrando: Paul Groves
Guglielmo: Dwayne Croft
Don Alfonso: William Shimell
Fiordiligi: Renee Fleming
Dorabella: Suzanne Mentzer
Despina: Marie McLaughlin
Mozart's cutting comic masterpiece was televised earlier this week,
with the performance based on last season's new production of the
work. Since many of you might have seen it on TV and/or taped it
on video, I won't bother to review this performance per se, except
in comparison to the pair of performances of the revival I had seen
earlier this season over Thanksgiving break. These performances
were excellent in their own way, and I was glad to have seen more
than one of them, both in the house and on TV.
As James Levine (conducting), Dwayne Croft and Suzanne Mentzer were
common to both seasons, I'll skip to the other principals for now.
Carol Vaness made a happy return to her best-known fach, and even
though forrays into heavier repertoire had undoubtedly taken their
toll, she still distinguished herself in Mozart, albeit a bit taxed
by Fiordiligi's fiendishly difficult register jumps (especially in
"Come scoglio") and coloratura fireworks (ditto, and "Per pieta").
Renee Fleming might lack Vaness' instinctually seasoned expertise
phrasings and style for Mozart (though she's still no louch at that!)
and came across as a bit studied and generic in her characterization
but her voice was intrinsically warmer (and more beautiful -- indeed
among the most beautiful of current sopranos -- and the same could/
should be said about her looks!) and her technique more secure (with
impeccable trills and runs, and breathtaking messa di voce and all,
in generous serving!) And her rapt attention to the music and text
and her transfixing immersion in the drama, all contributed to a most
compelling portrayal, and so compelling it was that I just had to
reexperience it a few days later when I still could! (Don't I sound
just like a Fleming-flapper here! :-)) Paul Groves had a somewhat
plangeantly bleating quality to his voice, and was strained by the
fioriture, but to his credit he lacked Hadley's fussy mannerisms of
late, and Hadley too was the weak link of an otherwise magnificent
cast. Thomas Allen had experience and style to spare, but little
voice left, alas; the opposite could be said about William Shimmel,
even though both of them were simply too light-voiced for the old
and worldly Don Alfonso which ideally calls for a bass-baritone with
appropriately aging looks. (If anything, William Shimell looked way
too young and dashing for the part: not surprisingly since he had
taken on Don Giovanni with some success not too long ago!) Indeed
both Allen and Shimell had been more aptly cast as Guglielmo elsewhere,
just that this production (and its revival) had already had such a
wonderful Guglielmo in Dwayne Croft! Marie McLaughlin was no match
for Cecilia Bartoli, the superstar debuttante of last season. But
it was a pleasant return of the role of Despina to a lighter-voiced
soubrette, and dramatically she's not as exaggerated as Bartoli.
Suzanne Mentzer was her reliably excellent self as Dorabella and
played off marginally better against partners in the revival cast.
The revival ran smoother in a number of details, especially during
the madcap ending: a particularly delicious touch was a lingering
moment of meaningful hesitation between the "wrong coupling" of
Ferrando and Fiordiligi (he even took her hand for a moment before
both of them looked away and withdrew in resignation to return to
the original pairing); and more persuasive was McLaughlin's defeated
and dejected Despina accepting Don Alfonso's remuneration in confused
resignation, in contrast to Bartoli's inexplicably defiant gestures
of protest.
The set looked rather spartan and abstract, with curious touches of
Japanese aesthetics, so it seemed (especially the sliding doors, and
gravelled yard/pier)! The costumes looked rather drab, no thanks to
the dull color scheme, especially on the principals, and not so much
on the ensemble of elegantly-dressed supernumeraries all in off-white.
But then, in welcome contrast to Zeffirelli's one-upmanship (overdone
most recently in the circus-like new production of Carmen), this kind
of understated production (as long as it doesn't get to such absurd
degree of post-modernist abstraction like the recent new production
of Midsummer Night's Dream!) served its purpose well enough and didn't
upstage the cast, and the singing which was its chief glory. And
that's another thing for which one should be grateful, I suppose.
All in all an excellent production and revival, and the main quibble
I want to make is that this season's radio broadcast will once again
feature Carol Vaness and won't preserve Fleming's Fiordiligi!
That's it for now, I've written more than a handful this time, so
I guess it's about time to give my fingers, not to mention your eyes,
some rest. :-)
Vinh Nguyen
<email>
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