Mozart - Le Nozze di Figaro (Munich, 2017)

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart - Le Nozze di Figaro

Bayerische Staatsoper, 2017

Constantinos Carydis, Christof Loy, Christian Gerhaher, Federica Lombardi, Solenn' Lavanant-Linke, Alex Esposito, Olga Kulchynska, Paolo Bordogna, Anne Sofie von Otter, Manuel Günther, Dean Power, Milan Siljanov, Anna El-Khashem, Paula Iancic, Niamh O’Sullivan

Staatsoper Live - 28th October 2017

Christof Loy really does have opera directing down to a fine art. Not everything he does is perfect, and there have been some rather abstract and minimalist productions where the set has been reduced down to nothing but a few chairs, but I've always found his approach to thought-provoking and fully engaged with the work in question, responsive to its themes and moods. Le Nozze di Figaro is a work of such perfection that it doesn't need a great deal of elaboration, and Loy manages to strike a good balance between hands-off in relation to the concept and hands-on with the characterisation in this new Bavarian State Opera production.

From the opening of the first act and most of the way through it, it certainly looks like Loy is rather short on ideas and reluctant to impose any radical intervention on the work. The chair is already in place with a drape over it for Cherubino to hide under, the doors are well placed for all the entrances and exits. You can pretty much see how the whole of the first half of the work is blocked out on the stage right from the opening of the curtains. Except it's not quite that simple, because the curtain-up is prefaced with a little puppet show on a miniature of the stage of the Munich opera house at Max-Joseph-Platz.

It's more than just suggesting that Figaro and Susanna are just puppets of Count Almaviva. The real Figaro emerges and starts measuring up the new room that he will soon share with his bride-to-be. The world that the servants occupy in this world is about to get a little bit bigger by the time we get to the conclusion of Mozart's opera and the influence and importance of the nobility will not go unchallenged. Beaumarchais's revolutionary play might have played its own small part in changing social attitudes of course, as events in France would subsequently show, but as you can imagine, Christof Loy is more interested in what Le Nozze di Figaro says now than what part it might or might not have played in its foreshadowing of the French revolution.

So while the first half of Munich's Figaro plays out very much along conventional lines, it's with a few more modern touches, or at least within a non-time specific context. The room with its stage/window backdrop is a view on the world where social attitudes are changing. The barriers go beyond class, although the aristocracy (Count and Countess Almaviva), the middle-classes (Bartolo and Marcellina), and the working classes (Figaro and Susanna) are all represented; there's also a greater emphasis on the freedom of expression of women, of the individual, and perhaps even in the freedom to choose one's sexual identity in Cherubino.

Loy in an interview states that he has other ideas for Cherubino, seeing him as representing something from a more innocent age. And it's true that Cherubino is the only figure who wears a period costume from Mozart's era. The spirit of Cherubino can be an essential element in Le Nozze di Figaro, a spirit that is part of the whole rich fabric of life and society as Mozart and Da Ponte saw it. Loy is certainly right to give Cherubino a meaningful role in this respect, and he is wonderfully played as such by Solenn' Lavanant-Linke, who also sings the role well and with some character.

Loy's interventions then are therefore subtle and minimal, finding a way to bring out the humanist sentiments of the work without disrupting the humour, character and essential fabric of the original too much. It doesn't always hit the mark - the familiar comic set-pieces occasionally feel a little laboured, with pauses losing the momentum that is very much a part of the magic of the composition - but Loy demonstrates a great awareness of the construction of the work as a whole, how its humour and social commentary play off one another, how it grips an audience and engages them in the important message it has to share about individual freedoms.

A considerable part of the genius of that construction is of course within Mozart's incredible music itself, and in the wonderful singing roles that he gifts each of the singers with as an expression of personality. Constantinos Carydis surprises by the fast tempo that he adopts for the work at the start, and much of the work fairly sprints along, buoyed by both harpsichord and forte-piano accompaniment that provide some beautiful textures to the music. It is however varied according to mood even if, it has to be said, it feels a bit inconsistent and drags in other places. The Countess's 'Porgi Amor' feels overly drawn-out, but it does seem to be very much an attempt to better relate to how the work itself is constructed, having fun exposing hypocrisy in the first half, but with a more serious reflection on events in the second half of the work. Has there ever been a more generous opera?

It's certainly generous for its melodies and arias, and they are all given due attention in the production, which has a very capable cast of singers. When I say due attention, it's consideration of the importance of the arias within the whole dramatic flow and fabric of the work and not as standalone pieces to show off the abilities of the singers, as some people like to view opera. Alex Esposito has been specialising in Mozart and Rossini baritone roles, but does have a tendency to over-play. Not so much here. His Figaro is lively, engaging and well-sung, if not quite fully rounded. Rising star Olga Kulchynska makes for a fine Susanna with a quality performance.

The other roles are all similarly well sung with a degree of character, although there's no real stand-out performances here. In the egalitarian context of The Marriage of Figaro, I think that's an advantage and, as such, Christian Gerhaher is an ideal Count Almaviva. All too often Almaviva can be a caricature, a comedy villain or a bit of an oaf, when there really needs to be a more sensitive side displayed as well. We get that here with Gerhaher, and consequently it interacts well with the other singing performances; with Federica Lombardi's capable Countess and with Solenn' Lavanant-Linke's Cherubino. It's perhaps not the most memorable, insightful or humorous Le Nozze di Figaro then, but Christof Loy's Munich production is balanced, coherent and entertaining, and Mozart's score is treated well by Constantinos Carydis.

The next streamed production from the Bayerische Staastoper will be Puccini's Il Trittico on the 23 December 2017; Conductor: Kirill Petrenko , Production: Lotte de Beer. With Wolfgang Koch, Eva-Maria Westbroek, Yonghoon Lee, Pavol Breslik, Ermonela Jaho, Michaela Schuster, Ambrogio Maestri, Rosa Feola.

Links: Bayerische Staatsoper, Staatsoper.TV

Cavalli - Elena

Francesco Cavalli - Elena

Festival d'Aix-en-Provence, 2013

Leonardo García Alarcón, Jean-Yves Ruf, Emőke Baráth, Valer Barna-Sabadus, Fernando Guimarães, Solenn' Lavanant Linke, Rodrigo Ferreira, Emiliano Gonzalez Toro, Anna Reinhold, Scott Conner, Mariana Flores, Majdouline Zerari, Brendan Tuohy, Christopher Lowrey, Job Tomé

Medici Live Internet Streaming - 11 July 2013

Cavalli operas present considerable difficulties at the best of times, but Elena, one of composer's rarest works, is perhaps one of the most challenging. Quite what tone to set for the work is complicated by the nature of the writing itself, its libretto finished by Nicolò Minato after the death of Cavalli's regular collaborator Giovanni Faustini in 1651. First performed in 1659, the work moreover hasn't been produced in full for over 350 years, and attitudes towards how opera is performed have changed a lot in that time. Is Elena meant to be played as a relatively straight account of the abduction of Helen of Troy or is it more of what the Aix programme describes as a "vaudeville mythologique" or indeed in reference to Offenbach, a "Baroque Belle Hélène"?

The 2013 Aix-en-Provence production, conducted by Leonardo García Alarcón and directed by Jean-Yves Ruf seems to be a little uncertain quite how to play Elena in this regard. When in doubt however, it seems that the best model for playing Cavalli is to look back at his master and mentor, Claudio Monteverdi and in particular at his masterpiece L'Incoronazione di Poppea. Following its innovative approach to mixing of the vulgar and the sublime, the human and the heavenly, Elena seems to assert its own tone quite successfully.

The opera starts out light and humorous, with folk-like dance rhythms marked out on harpsichord, but it's given tremendous colour through Cavalli's writing for woodwind and trumpet, with the lute-like Theorbo used as well for more plaintive laments. The dominant tone however is established when the central relationship of Elena and Menelaus emerges from the complications that ensue when the colourful cast comes into contact with the face that launched a thousand ships, and probably just as many operas. Even the manner in which the situation arises here is a combination of the mythic and the comic, the Prologue being a familiar early Baroque one where the Gods are in dispute. It's an undignified affair to say the least, with Discordia (in disguise as Concordia), setting Juno, Venus and Pallas against one another in a dispute over who is most worthy of the Golden Apple. Discord sown (so to speak), it's determined that the fate of Helen to be joined with Menelaus is not going to be smooth sailing.

That meddling in the affairs of mortals leads, as it does in most Baroque operas, to great complications in the main part of Elena. It's Theseus who abducts Helen, having abandoned his intended Hippolyta (which will have repercussions later), but in doing so he also takes Elisa, an Amazonian slave who has been engaged by King Tyndareus of Sparta as a wrestling assistant for Helen. Elisa however is none other than Meneleas dressed in female clothing, but so good is his disguise that not only has Theseus's colleague Pirithous fallen in love with her, but so too has King Tyndareus. As much then to bring back Elisa as his abducted daughter, the King sends his jester Irus out to find them.

That's just a simplified version of what happens in Act I, but even without bringing in the other players - in disguise and cross-dressing - it's not too difficult to see how such a plot can seem a little bit ridiculous as it descends into bitterness, rivalry and misunderstandings. On the other hand, it also provides plenty of opportunity for a variety of situations and tones, all fuelled by overwhelming mad desires. If what ensues is almost farcical, the sentiments expressed are nonetheless heartfelt. Helen's maid, Astianassa for example, only wishes that someone cared enough to abduct her and sings a beautiful aria of sadness for her position. The same is the case for the spurned Hippolyta, for the Prince Menestheus, who falls in love with Helen on first sight, and for King Tyndareus. Their passions might seem silly to others, but they are real to them.

In its example of showing important historical figures like Nero, Seneca and Poppea to be humans with the same sentiments as everyone else, Monteverdi's L'Incoronazione di Poppea may indeed be the model to follow in terms of setting the variations of tone to be found in Elena. In many other respects however, Cavalli's writing goes beyond Monteverdi in the richness of the instrumentation, in the supplementation of the basso continuo, but particularly in the writing for voices. In addition to the expected solo laments, much of the plot and interaction between the characters is developed though beautiful duets, and it's used as well to express their compatibility and common accord. Often both voices sing the same words, one a beat behind the other, but the harmony of the voices and the expressions of lyrical beauty are quite extraordinary.

Despite the intervention of many characters and the expression of their desires towards them, it's the duets then between Menelaus and Helen that affirm the rightness of their union. Theseus and Hippolyta also put their differences aside (Theseus apologises to Castor and Pollux, "Sorry for abducting Helen", "That's ok, forgive and forget" they reply!), which also allows Concordia to reign again (temporarily) and the opera to end with a short but beautiful quartet of voices in union. The singing is excellent particularly from these main players - Emőke Baráth as Helen, Fernando Guimarães as Theseus, and Solenn' Lavanant Linke as Hippolyta, but the stand-out performance is undoubtedly that of countertenor Valer Barna-Sabadus as Menelaus.

The stage direction by Jean-Yves Ruf and the set designs by Laure Pichat keep things relatively simple. The stage is small and resembles an arena or a bullring, with a semi-circle of wood fencing behind the players. The period is not classical but closer to 17th century, the production even employing old-style special effects for wind and storms, with billowing sails for those sea journeys. It doesn't always sustain visual interest in what is a long 3-hour opera with a great deal of characters and repetitive situations, but the simplicity and intimacy of the setting is undoubtedly the best way to play a work of this type, and it frames the strengths of Cavalli's writing and supports the fine singing.

Elena at the Aix-en-Provence Festival is available for viewing on-line (with French subtitles) from the Medici and ARTE Live Web sites.

Gluck - Telemaco, ossia L’isola di Circe

Christoph Willibald Gluck - Telemaco, ossia L’isola di Circe

Theater Basel

Anu Tali, Tobias Kratzer, Freiburger Barockorchester, Tomasz Zagorski, David DQ Lee, Agneta Eichenholz, Solenn’ Lananant-Linke, Maya Boog, Christopher Bolduc

Basel, Switzerland - 24 June 2011

Gluck’s Telemaco, ossia L’isola di Circe (Telemachus, or Circe’s Island, 1765) comes at an interesting point in the composer’s career that has historical significance as well as great musical interest for its place in the opera repertoire. Written during his Italian period, while the composer was still forming his ideas for the reform of opera, Telemaco (dramma per musica in two acts) sits between two important operas (Orfeo ed Eurydice and Alceste) that – in their later French revisions at least – would transform opera, taking it away from empty stylisations and displays of vocal virtuosity towards a more dramatic form of opera as we know it today. The groundwork towards this reform can already be clearly seen in the lesser-known Telemaco.

Even though it still adheres largely to the opera seria form, with drama played out in semi-recitative and fluid continuo (with no harpsichord), the traditional longer arias express the emotions felt with some repetition, but there is nonetheless a restrained simplicity to the arrangements and a clear focus on the drama, with no unnecessary da capo adornments. Most of all however, there is a sense in Telemaco of the wonderful humanism that Gluck is able to find in the human drama unfolding in this particular episode of Homer’s Odyssey and in how he brings it out through the music with a naturalness and fluidity. That’s wonderfully apparent in the playing of the Freiburger Barockorchester conducted by Anu Tali (a rarity seeing a female conductor in the pit) at this production for the Theatre Basel in Switzerland.

Tobias Kratzer’s staging for this production boldly went for a few modernising reforms of its own, seeing Odysseus as a WWII fighter pilot who has been brought down and is now held captive with his crew by Circe on a tropical Pacific island. The opening scene where Penelope receives and rejects her suitors in a late 1940s drawing room in Ithaca, Odysseus having been missing for six years, is then violently transformed into a jungle, vines bursting through the walls as Telemachus vows to go in search of his father and bring him home. Played as a dual role, Penelope quick-changes into Circe, the madame of an Asian brothel, Penelope’s ladies in waiting dropping their knitting and stripping down to sirens in slips that hold Odysseus and his men in their power.

Quite what the intentions were in the modernisation, in closely relating the two worlds and in the division of Penelope/Circe is difficult to judge (this is a very rare opera and I can find no recording of it in existence, or even an English synopsis of the original libretto – although the subject is a familiar mythological one, done many times in opera), but it certainly creates an interesting contrast to consider. What is less in doubt however is the ability of the music and the singing to draw the human drama out of the story.

As Odysseus, Tomasz Zagorski was a strong and commanding tenor, with clear Italian diction. In the alto-castrato role of Telemachus, Canadian countertenor David DQ Lee came into form wonderfully in Act II during his vision of the death of Penelope, bringing out the full extent of the nature of his character and his conflicted feelings. Agneta Eichenholz was a little inconsistent as Penelope and Circe, but the dual-role is clearly a challenging one. The heart of the opera however would seem to lie in the character of Asteria and in her relationship with Telemachus. It’s in her transformation from a nymph through her love for the son of Odysseus, and coming to be recognised as a sister by Merione that the most powerful and human moments are expressed in the opera, and Maya Boog captured that wonderfully, particularly in her heartbreaking Act II aria, but it was also evident in the fine ensemble work of the cast and the chorus as a whole.

Composed as a commission for the Hapsburg monarch and Holy Roman Emperor, Joseph II and his wife Maria Josepha of Bavaria, who had just come to power after the reign of his mother Maria Teresa and attempt to usher in modernising reforms, there are evidently parallels and guiding principles brought out in Gluck’s Telemaco (much in the way Mozart opera seria La Clemenza di Tito was written for Leopold II in 1791), but regardless of the setting in antiquity, in the time of Joseph II, or in post-WWII, the qualities and strengths of this rare opera are timeless and still relevant, as is Gluck’s prototypic al vision of the modern dramatic opera.