Francesco Cavalli - Erismena
Festival d'Aix-en-Provence, 2017
Leonardo García Alarcón, Jean Bellorini, Francesca Aspromonte, Carlo Vistoli, Susanna Hurrell, Jakub Józef Orliński, Alexander Miminoshvili, Lea Desandre, Andrea Vincenzo Bonsignore, Stuart Jackson, Tai Oney, Jonathan Abernethy
ARTE Concert - 12th July 2017
There are times I'm convinced that there is a deliberate attempt to confuse the audience in some of these early baroque and opera seria works. It's not just that the plots are needlessly intricate and difficult to unravel, but the names often all sound the same. So in addition to Erismena in Cavalli's opera of that name we have Erimante and Erineo, with an Ercinia appearing out of the woodwork when we thought her name was Alcesta, all of those becoming mixed up with Orimeno and Aldimira. And who the heck are Arminda and Artamene?
If I didn't know better I'd think the librettist was trying to cover over any plot weaknesses or lack of credibility in the extraordinary events and coincidences that take place in such works, but you can hardly accuse Cavalli of fudging the issue here with his gorgeous melodies and precise delineation of mood and character. Even if you are a little confused in places as one identity dissolves into another, disguises are dropped and genders are switched, in the masterful hands of Cavalli the changes just reflect a rich set of individuals who come together to create complex connections and bonds.
Breaking down the plot to its essentials in an effort to simplify (I'll try anyway) and focus on its themes, the fates of all of the characters revolve essentially - and not unexpectedly - around a king. Erimante the King of Armenia is haunted by a vision of an unknown warrior who he dreams will take his throne from him. At the same time, a wounded warrior has been discovered by Orimeno. He leaves the warrior with his beloved Aldimira and her nurse Alcesta, who helps cure the man's injuries. When Orimeno brings him to the king however, Erimante recognises the feared warrior of his dreams and orders Erineo to kill him.
Erineo however fails to carry out this task, leaving the warrior to fall into the hands of Aldimira, who has fallen in love with him. The warrior reveals his mission is to seek vengeance against Idraspe, who abandoned the warrior's 'sister' Erismena, although obviously we know that the warrior is Erismena herself disguised in a soldier's armour. Romantic complications are added to the whole affair - most of them involving the flighty Aldimira it has to be said - but there are further surprises in store since - no big surprise this one - Erismena is not the only one living under an assumed name or identity. Alesta, who is really the nurse Ercinia, eventually reveals all, including the fact that Erismena is the daughter of Erimante and as such the rightful heir to the throne rather than a threat to the king. See what I mean about the names?
Anyhow, safe to say that there are a lot more complications, identities and characters involved in the affairs in Armenia (Arminda and Artamene incidentally are only mentioned in passing otherwise it really would be impossible to unravel this one). To similarly simplify the essential theme of Cavalli's opera - and the whole disguises and unknown origins question of such operas - it's all about the search for identity, for understanding one's true nature. This realisation of course only comes about through some hard-earned life lessons, but in the case of Cavalli's Erismena, the work is considerably enriched by the types of characters involved and by the musical treatment that the composer creates for them.
Leonardo García Alarcón's conducting from the harpsichord of the Cappella Mediterranea brings out all those characteristics and moods with a sparseness and directness of means that only a skilled period instrument ensemble can do. What the Aix-en-Provence production reveals however is that the purity of young voices also play just as vital a role in bringing the themes of the work to the surface. It's immediately apparent from the moment that Susanna Hurrell's Aldimira and Francesca Aspromonte's 'warrior' Erismena sing the duet 'Occhi belli', revealing not only the the beauty of the sentiments but the naivety behind them. It's an opera that is all about youth.
Aldimira is flirtatious, capricious, inconstant, and has many lovers - she herself exemplifies one facet of the changeable nature of love and the instability of trust and fidelity. Erismena represents another side of love, one that has solidity of reason and is constant in purpose. People come in all shapes and sizes, quite literally here, particularly in the case of the old nurse, showing that love and its torments are not the preserve of the young alone. Love is a complex business and changeable, and how better to illustrate that than the manner in which the twists and turns of Cavalli's opera and musical treatment covers it.
It's a much richer and more dynamic palette that is brought out here than the laments and single-emotion at a time expression of subsequent opera seria period. Arias and ariosos flit between one mood or emotion to another - as someone in love is wont to do - and the singers here are eminently capable of displaying the necessary range, where youth and purity of voice and sentiment is absolutely essential. It's through love that we recognise our true selves, the opera tells us, through the destiny and fate that bonds us to each other as family, and it's love in all its guises that gives life its depth, richness and quality. Cavalli recognises this and puts it all into his dynamically expressive music.
The stage production at Aix isn't quite as rich and expressive, but it rightly defers to the music and the singing. The set design has a makeshift quality, dimly lit, with a wire mesh platform employed and canopy of light-bulbs. The costumes too are in that mix-and-don't-match style that nevertheless reflects characters who have many contradictory facets and might not don't really know who they are yet. Francesca Aspromonte sings Erismane in a way accentuates her essential beauty, firmness and brightness. Susanna Hurrell captures a sense of lightness and innocence in Aldimira that makes her character's inconstancy charming rather than flirtatious and damaging. Carlo Vistoli's Idraspe/Erineo is beautifully sung, reflecting his dual nature and identity and his desire to control his nature, but all of the roles are sung with bright youthful pureness and great skill, weaving around the Cappella Mediterranea's beautiful interpretation of Cavalli's melodies, to striking effect.
Links: Festival d'Aix-en-Provence, Culturebox
Claude Debussy - Pelléas et Mélisande
English Touring Opera, 2015
Jonathan Berman, Annelies van Parys, James Conway, Jonathan McGovern, Susanna Hurrell, Stephan Loges, Michael Druiett, Helen Johnson, Lauren Zolezzi
English Touring Opera, Buxton - 16 October 2015
Trying to pin down the symbolism and floating musical ambiguity of Pelléas et Mélisande to any one meaning or interpretation would seem to be a pointless exercise, yet it's a choice that any director who stages the work has to make. Even if one particular interpretation is settled on or a single theme is drawn upon, the work tends to remain elusive and take on an unintended meaning and mysterious direction of its own. If Pelléas et Mélisande can be pinned down to just one broad theme however, it's the one that James Conway develops here in the English Touring Opera's 2015 production in its most abstract form. It's all about love.
That's a strong theme, particularly when it's explored in terms of love inspired by unspeakable passions that drives one to unimaginable actions, and it links in well with the two other very different French operas in the ETO's Autumn 2015 touring programme, Tales of Hoffmann and Werther. The nature of that overpowering love is extreme in all of those works, but in the symbolic nature of Debussy's Pelléas et Mélisande it can be seen as all-encompassing. The sea, a fountain, water, a ship a cavern, a rock, a tower, a ring, a crown - all of these things can be used to express different facets and aspects of that single theme of love in all its manifestations and the feelings associated with it.
James Conway takes a holistic approach to the work, its themes, its symbols, its characters, its music and its language in a way that supports this theme as well as brings out the other more ambiguous and indefinable qualities of the work that can't quite be expressed in words. The words are suggestive but the intentions are hidden or kept suppressed, particularly in regard to the feelings that Pelléas and Mélisande have for each other, but directorial choices can be imposed on the reading of them. Conway doesn't attempt anything too radical, adopting a position certainly, but crucially allowing some of the ambiguity to remain.
Mélisande is, or appears to be, a total innocent here, but also a figure who has a hidden past that may prevent her from being totally open to her own feelings. Pelléas however knows that the games they play have more of an illicit edge, hesitatingly drawn by her mysterious allure but ultimately unable to resist. Whether he really believes them to be playing what he angrily and dismissively calls a 'jeux d'enfants', Golaud undoubtedly reads too much into it, his suspicions and jealousy fuelled by his own imagination. The key to establishing this or any interpretation successfully is in how it is projected onto the outside world.
The ETO's staging is uncomplicated and open to the symbolism of the drama, contrasting the interiors and exteriors of the castle with the internal emotional world of the characters and their external manifestations. A recessed room behind a gauze screen separates the formal superficial exchanges in the castle of Allemonde from the rather more abstract uncertainties of the mysterious light and colour of the world outside. The only real licence that Conway's production takes with the symbolism is what looks like an overturned filing cabinet that holds all those mysteries buried within it. What spills out of it in terms of where love takes us, is Golaud's inner world, his disturbed mentality coming to dominate and extend out into the world to colour everything else.
With regard to what is unexpressed and inexpressible, much of the mystery and ambiguity in Pelléas et Mélisande and everything that binds it together can be found in Debussy's musical score. Flitting between the worlds of the characters is difficult enough, but it can be hugely rewarding when it integrates and binds itself to the music. The musical interpretation can open up other levels, tones and suggestion far beyond what the words say and even what the actions show, and that is wholly the case here. Arranged by Annelies van Parys for a small chamber-sized orchestra, Debussy's score is still a thing of wonder, depth and mystery, and it's brought out wonderfully under the baton of Jonathan Berman.
The arrangement is familiar but the lightness of the touch dispels the more Wagnerian influences and highlights the power of the notes and the melodies themselves to mark the changes of mood. The tone slips between wonder, anger, sadness, melancholy, and allows them to co-exist. There are one or two minor adjustments, including the use of dialogue cut from the performing edition of the work, reinstated here unaccompanied to excellent effect. The use and flow of the French language is essential here too, and it was delivered with great clarity of diction and appropriate interpretation by all the performers.
Stephan Loges made the greatest impression as Golaud in a production that assumed his outlook as the dominant one, but Jonathan McGovern and Susanna Hurrell's softer, lyrical voices were also ideally suited to the personalities of Pelléas and Mélisande. Helen Johnson's fine singing made sure that the contribution of Geneviève also has relevance to the work as a whole, and Michael Druiett was suitably grave as the preoccupied Arkel, if not quite sonorous enough in the bass register. Yniold was sung wonderfully by Lauren Zolezzi, who also made a real contribution as Sophie in the ETO's Werther on this tour.
Links: English Touring Opera
Claudio Monteverdi - Orfeo
Royal Opera House at The Roundhouse, 2015
Christopher Moulds, Michael Boyd, Gyula Orendt, Mary Bevan, Susanna Hurrell, Rachel Kelly, Callum Thorpe, James Platt, Susan Bickley, Anthony Gregory, Alexander Sprague, Christopher Lowrey
Royal Opera House Youtube - 21 January 2015
Monteverdi and the early Baroque composers believed that there were ancient precedents for setting drama to music, and their subjects were accordingly almost invariably those of Greek drama. If those views proved to be unfounded, the earliest proponents of this new art form at least discovered a highly expressive means of presenting the dramatic action, the personalities and the underlying themes. They invented opera.
Monteverdi's L'Orfeo (1609) is one of the first works that developed the music-drama into the form that is closest to what we are familiar with in the opera tradition of today, a fact that accounts for it still being performed regularly over 400 years later. Even long sections of accompanied recitative in L'Orfeo are melodic and wholly musical, flowing, expressive of the dramatic situations, sentiments and emotions of the characters involved. As a subject too, the musicianship of L'Orfeo is one worthy to act as a standard bearer for the artform, for the ingenuity and creativity of humans, for their ability to not only endure outrageous fortune, but emerge stronger from it and to create art from it.
Monteverdi was just the composer to exploit all the possibilities of the Orpheus myth. When Gluck set to work on a reformist agenda for opera some 150 years later, he too chose to work with the same myth, but stripped the work back to an exploration of human sentiments around grief, bereavement and coming through it in its forced happy ending. Monteverdi's version, benefitting from a beautifully poetic and incisive libretto, has a much wider range of human sentiments to work with. Where Gluck opens with a funeral, Monteverdi opens with a celebration of love, of nature, of marriage and community. It's more too than just working with mythology, or just a cautionary tale about the powers of the gods and the limitations of man. Monteverdi makes much of Orpheus as a musician, celebrating the power of music to elevate humanity and through it express their aspiration to approach divinity.
That's part of what Monteverdi's L'Orfeo is about, and it's part of what opera itself is all about. Monteverdi's work also recognises and takes advantage of the dramatic nature of this new artform and the possibilities this offers. L'Orfeo has a number of highly dramatic scenes that push human sentiments and endurance to its limits, and the staging needs to match and support the lengths to which these themes are developed. What greater way, and what more visually splendid way, than showing a man descend to the depths of Hades, negotiate with the god of the Underworld himself, and then later transcend to Heaven itself? That still needs to be exploited on the stage as much as in the music in any modern production and that's the challenge that Michael Boyd would have had to address for this Royal Opera House production at the Roundhouse.
The Roundhouse is an interesting venue for a Baroque opera, much more appropriate one feels than a large opera house. Or at least that's the impression given even when viewed via a web broadcast. Simplicity and intimacy is however also clearly the intent of the production design, in the smart modern-classical costumes and in the performances themselves. Avoiding the danger of being stiff and static in playing and delivery, it never feels like a stuffy Baroque work, but one that is in the here and now, dealing with real emotions and sentiments. It's achieved with a minimum of stage effects, Michael Boyd's direction allowing dancers to give a further sense of flow and momentum, as well as being representative of scenes in the Underworld. Some 'circus' acrobatic effects are used well however in those critical scenes that needs an extra bit of a 'lift'.
Performed in the round, the musicians also are not hidden in a pit, but are there in the background. If not a actual part of the production, it nonetheless contributes to the connection between the musicians and the drama, where some degree of improvisation and elaboration are a vital component. There is a more evident interaction between the voices and the individual in Baroque opera, with distinct instruments often being used to define and colour character. The arrangement here allows the tone and the quality of the period instruments to be fully expressed and heard, plucking harsh notes or beautiful string accompaniments that comes across well at least in the streamed broadcast, and I'm sure even more effectively live in the theatre.
As ever much in this work depends on the quality of the voices used, particularly for how Orpheus uses his voice to sway even the dark heart of Pluto with his music and singing. Casting of Orpheus can vary from the deeper Georg Nigl tenor to the light and lyrical John Mark Ainsley, but here we have baritone Gyula Orendt with a wonderful clarity and power in his expression that is undoubtedly enhanced by the venue and the arrangements. The key scene where Orfeo tries to persuade Pluto is one of the greatest moments in all opera - is practically the definition of opera, the power of human expression enveloped in music and the singing voice - and it's sung and staged spectacularly well here. Orfeo is well-matched with the clear enunciation and flowing ornamentation of Mary Bevan's Eurydice.
It's incredible that Monteverdi's L'Orfeo, four-hundred years old, and one of the earliest if not the very first opera, still stands as one of the greatest works and showcases for the artform. The Roundhouse production, testifying to the power of the work on just about every level of musicianship and stage craft, reminds you exactly why that is.
Links: YouTube, Roundhouse
