Richard Wagner - Tannhäuser
Bayerische Staatsoper, 2017
Kirill Petrenko, Romeo Castellucci, Klaus Florian Vogt, Christian Gerhaher, Anja Harteros, Elena Pankratova, Georg Zeppenfeld, Dean Power, Peter Lobert, Ulrich Reß, Ralf Lukas, Elsa Benoit
ARTE Concert - 9th July 2017
There's a stunning display of imagery and evidence of a unique perspective in Romeo Castellucci's Munich opera festival production of Tannhäuser. Musically too the performance of the Bayerisches Staatsorchester conducted by Kirill Petrenko is lushly gorgeous and the singing from an impressive cast is jaw-droppingly good. It's everything we've come to expect from the Bavarian State Opera over the course of this current season. If there was something missing from the Tannhäuser production however, it's that indefinable quality that can be described broadly as coherence.
And perhaps it's not so difficult to pinpoint where the lack of coherence comes from, since that's the job really of the director. Romeo Castellucci's account of Wagner's opera however doesn't strictly hold to its traditional imagery or themes, but tends to revisit them from a more abstract perspective. As is often the case with Castellucci it's probably a mistake to try and think too deeply about the imagery or try to connect up all the dots and references into a coherent whole. On its own terms his visual representation of the opera is quite striking and unexpected. This is definitely not a case of a director nailing his ideas firmly to a single recognisable concept, but rather one that opens it up for the audience to apply their own interpretation.
It's hard for example to understand just what kind of statement the director is making upfront when a legion of topless Amazonian archers take to the stage during the overture and embark upon a synchronised ritual of target practice onto the projected image of a eye, which then becomes an ear. In Castellucci's mind, they are cupids, straight out of the libretto's description of Venusberg, their arrows representing love and the wounds it creates, but there's more of a Leni Riefenstahl Olympia character here and in other imagery that is reminiscent of propaganda art of the Third Reich. It could also be seen to relate to the ancient mythology of Diana, goddess of the hunt and nature.
It's an idealised image of perfection however that is ultimately shown to be corrupting to Heinrich, and Castellucci finds equally extreme imagery to represent this with the goddess Venus bubbling out of a mound of heaving forms melded together in pool of rippling flesh. As unconventional as the imagery is, it can be related to or seen as a response to the broad character of Tannhäuser, albeit with a little more sinister edge to it. That's certainly the character also of Wartburg when Heinrich returns there, with the Landgrave and his entourage shown out hunting in red robes, ritually washing themselves in the blood of a felled deer rather like a cult to Diana.
Thus far you can relate the imagery, albeit tenuously, to themes in Tannhäuser. Heinrich, having seen more of the world, is reluctant to rejoin Hermann's order, which can be seen to be a perversion of nature - a slaughter and a circle of blood that is regarded with horror by the young shepherd boy. Elisabeth - Anja Harteros wearing a nude-print dress - represents a vision of purity that the singers aspire to but which is too unworldly to be capable of attaining. The imagery turns ever more bizarre in an attempt perhaps to relate this to the ideal of a pure kingdom or nation, with flawless bodies moving behind a white veil in perfect synchronisation, suggesting some kind of body fascism that is just as disturbing as the fleshy imagery of Venusberg.
Sequence after sequence moves ever more distant not only from any conventional symbolism but any kind of consistent rationale that you could apply. Disembodied feet litter the stage; a lightbox that presents the themes of the singers is obliterated from the inside by frenzied spraying of black paint; pilgrims carry a huge gold boulder and return with smaller sized gold rocks; monumental bases hold the rotting, disintegrating corpses of Heinrich and Elisabeth, as hundreds of thousands of millions of years pass and they turn to ash, but they are emblazoned with the names of 'Klaus' and 'Anja'. The image of the arrow is present throughout, but its symbolism changes according to the scene, representing wounding love one moment, the hunting of Tannhäuser the next, but primarily and significantly as the final image seen on the stage, it represents the flight of time.
It all looks beautiful and is visually engaging, but without extensive programme notes and explanations it would be hard to follow just what the director is reading from Tannhäuser. According to Castellucci, Heinrich is a figure who is doomed to never attain the perfection he seeks in either realm (Venusberg/Wartburg), but rather the quasi-religious perfection represented by Elisabeth/Maria can only be found in a dimension outside space and time. Even with that explanation it's a very unique perspective that hardly illuminates nor illustrates the opera in any conventional fashion. And, despite the apparent desecration of the work's high-minded ideals, it doesn't entirely overcome the sanctimonious tone that you sometimes find at the work's conclusion.
There are however rare pleasures to be found elsewhere. In terms of singing, Christian Gerhaher's warm, lyrical Wolfram steals the show and it's not often you can say that in Tannhäuser, and that's no mean feat either when up against singers of the class of Vogt, Harteros, Zeppenfeld and Pankratova in the major roles. It does make for an odd but interesting imbalance, since it makes Wolfram's ode to Grace ('Anmut') in the singing competition a persuasive and appealing vision against which Heinrich's reaction seem churlish. That's through no fault of Klaus Florian Vogt, who sings as purely and beautifully as ever here, although not quite with the same commanding conviction for this role as he can provide as Lohengrin, von Stolzing or even as Parsifal.
I had some minor reservations about Anja Harteros when she sang Elsa in the Salzburg Easter Festival Die Walküre but she is very impressive as Elisabeth here with some absolutely gorgeous singing, holding her line beautifully with a smooth legato. She seems at a bit of a loss what to make of Elisabeth and I suspect Castellucci didn't really give her a lot of direction here. It's a pity because Harteros is a fine singer/actor and could do a lot more, but her singing performance alone is good enough. Castellucci doesn't do Elena Pankratova any favours by burying her in a mound of prosthetic flesh, but the Russian soprano didn't let that deter her either from an excellent performance.
Links: Bayerische Staatsoper, ARTE Concert
Giuseppe Verdi - Aida
Salzburg Festival, 2017
Riccardo Muti, Shirin Neshat, Anna Netrebko, Francesco Meli, Ekaterina Semenchuk, Luca Salsi, Roberto Tagliavini, Dmitry Belosselskiy, Bror Magnus Tødenes, Benedetta Torre
ARTE Concert - 12 August 2017
It's hard to imagine that a production of Aida can miss its mark, or even worse, be boring, but it does seem to happen with increasing regularity. I'm sure it's a lot to do with the nature of the work itself, which much be fairly intimidating to approach, where there are exceptional demands placed on the singers and on the need to meet audience expectations for an opera spectacle of the highest order. There's merit in Riccardo Muti's belief that you don't have to go either the route of the full Zeffirelli or modern abstract but that you can find an in-between alternative, and the resulting 2017 Salzburg production certainly returns the focus on the musical qualities of the performance, but it has to be said that Shirin Neshat's incredibly static production misses the mark by a mile.
Although the director might have been an unknown quantity, expectations were nonetheless high for this Salzburg Festival Aida. The principal reason for that was of course for the opportunity to hear Anna Netrebko take on the famous role for the first time and as the consummate professional, it can't be denied she doesn't disappoint in the slightest. She might look and act more like an Egyptian Princess than an Ethiopian slave girl, but she's going to carry that aura in every role, no matter how good her acting performance. If you paid a fortune to see this production in Salzburg in person, you will certainly have got your money's worth. This is as good an Aida as you'll hear sung in your lifetime.
Netrebko's voice has matured into a fully rounded voice, secure in every register and impressive at the high end. Her assumption of the role - as always - is full of conviction. You can get lost in the presence of Netrebko singing a role, she just commands attention and is compelling to watch. That's to the benefit of at least giving the kind of strong focus the opera needs that is not provided by the decor or the direction, but it's no reflection on the rest of the cast assembled here. Francesco Meli, like many tenors before him, is faced with the intimidating challenge of 'Celeste Aida' with scarcely any time to warm up, but by the time we get to Act IV, he's firing on all cylinders, along with the rest of the cast.
Much of the musical strengths of Aida lie in the fact that it is a tour de force and a great ensemble work, that provides unparalleled opportunities for individual singers and chorus, but it's also a work that can really spark into life when all the individual characters work together and push each other to the heights required. Ekaterina Semenchuk on her own is just terrific, utterly compelling in Amneris's fury in that final act, but throughout she also works well off and alongside Netrebko and Meli. In any other production, Semenchuk would prove to be a formidable rival for Aida - and acceptably so - but well, it's hard to imagining anyone outshining Netrebko. Luca Salsi too provides a luxurious timbre for an Amonasro that complements Netrebko beautifully. With Muti conducting the impressive Vienna Philharmonic through a glorious account of the score, the work builds and coalesces through to a quite phenomenal final Act.
Musically at least, this is as good as it gets. Unfortunately it's held back and very nearly destroyed by an unimaginative and static stage production. Prior to this performance, the production stills held out some promise for a stylish spectacle that didn't rely on hokey middle-Eastern props, but its limitations become evident very quickly indeed. The set consists largely - very largely - of two huge blocks which revolve to alternately provide a wall on one side for background (and a screen for occasional projections) and a hollowed-out interior that essentially provides nothing more than a platform to arrange the cast and chorus for the big choral scenes to project oratorio-like towards the audience.
It really is as static as that. I don't think I've ever seen a Marche Triomphale quite as uneventful and underwhelming as this one. Everyone stands around looking outward and awkward, a few extras pretend to play trumpets and a group of dancers wearing animal skulls make some half-hearted moves. It's as if the opera has suddenly just stopped for a rest, breaking the momentum that has been built so far. The opera almost dies a death, and that is not the impression that this famous scene should make.
If the set-pieces were incompetently handled, there was no sign of any ideas or direction anywhere else. Netrebko, Meli, Semenchuk, Salsi and Tagliavini seemed to have been left to stand and sing, or if they were feeling particularly moved, to pace from one spot to another and project out to the audience. Netrebko, who has some ability as an actress or can at least inhabit a role well, makes a little more effort to actually engage with her lover, her rival and her father, and in the process brings more out of them. A few Syrian refugees are randomly projected onto the walls in a throwaway concession to contemporary relevance, but otherwise the director trusts in Verdi and Muti to do the bulk of the work, and fortunately that's managed very well. If you were listening to this on the radio it would undoubtedly have sounded very impressive, but as an opera performance it was sorely lacking.
Links: Salzburger Festspiele, ARTE Concert
Richard Wagner - Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg
Bayreuther Festspiele, 2017
Philippe Jordan, Barrie Kosky, Michael Volle, Klaus Florian Vogt, Johannes Martin Kränzle, Daniel Behle, Anne Schwanewilms, Wiebke Lehmkuhl, Georg Zeppenfeld, Günther Groissböck, Tansel Akzeybek, Armin Kolarczyk, Daniel Schmutzhard, Paul Kaufmann, Christopher Kaplan, Stefan Heibach, Raimund Nolte, Andreas Hörl, Timo Riihonen
BR-Klassik - 25th July 2017
Barrie Kosky tones down his usual visual extravagances for his Bayreuth debut, but there's no shortage of spectacle, imagination and controversy in his production of Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg premiered at the 2017 festival. The reason for the taking a little more of a low-key approach is that Kosky, as a Jewish director, has decided to tackle a rather difficult subject, and that's the longstanding question of Wagner's antisemitism and the alleged expression of it in this opera. You can hardly accuse Kosky then of reigning in his excesses out of reverence for the composer on his home turf, so to speak.
There's a case for challenging Wagner's beliefs around the questions of art, race and nationalism in his works, and certainly over the last decade Bayreuth has been at the forefront in addressing the difficult and troubling nationalistic elements in his works, particularly in Lohengrin and Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg. Effectively putting the composer's great late masterpiece on trial for alleged antisemitism, there are initially some doubts about whether such an emphasis should be allowed to dominate over the whole of a work that has considerably more warmth, humanity and humour to it.
It certainly looks like Kosky is about to over-complicate and muddy the waters by inserting Wagner directly into the production, creating a tangled web around the work's composition, history, tradition and legacy. Act I recreates Wagner's Bayreuth mansion Haus Wahnfried, where the composer is showing off his latest creation to his family and friends. Franz Lizst, who evolves into Pogner, is there with his daughter Cosima, Wagner's wife, who in turn will transform into Eva in the opera. Wagner himself will of course transform into the wise Hans Sachs, but he also models a youthful version of himself as the spirit of Walther von Stolzing.
Perhaps most controversially, Hermann Levi, the Jewish conductor of the first performance of Parsifal, transforms into Beckmesser, who it has been said (but hardly definitively) is a Jewish caricature in the opera. In the traditional German craft of the Meistersingers, Beckmesser is the one who might aspire to compose great art, but he can never be truly German, and in the end is shown to imitate and steal the ideas of others to little authentic effect from one who is in closer contact with the nature of the land and has noble pure German blood running through his veins. And, of course, the people rise up and reject Beckmesser's poor and inauthentic efforts at German art, giving him a good kicking for his troubles in Act II.
Is this all that Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg is about? It is really an antisemitic work? The question is one worth addressing, particularly by the time you come to Act III and IV of the work, with its problematic concluding speech. Barrie Kosky fortunately proves to be more than capable of tackling some of those more troubling questions without neglecting all the other essential elements of the work. It might appear to be somewhat provocatively over-emphasising the matter, not to mention making a lazy reference to the Nuremberg by placing the medieval citizens in a courtroom during war crime trials that took place in the city in 1945, but the validity of exploring the legacy of Meistersinger far beyond its own time is borne out by the almost prophetic words of Wagner's libretto.
"How peacefully with its staunch customs, contented in deed and work, lies in the middle of Germany my dear Nuremberg", sings Hans Sachs about a place that embodies the spiritual heartland of Germany. And yet Wagner recognises that the same essential German qualities also contain within them an element of old madness that could come under the thrall of "a goblin" who could unravel the thread of madness that lies within it, and it's the role of a Hans Sachs "to guide the madness so as to perform a nobler work"; towards art. The Nuremberg trials setting is not arbitrary or gratuitous then, but it gives real meaning and force to Wagner's words and to the sentiments at the heart of Meistersinger.
Whether you agree with the premise and is execution, Kosky at least makes a meaningful connection between life and art by looking at the work through the prism of Wagner's own life and composition, a much more meaningful exploration than Stefan Herheim's half-hearted placement of Wagner into the opera in his 2013 Salzburg production of the same work. At the very least, Kosky keeps the stage interesting, full of movement, ideas and occasional eccentric little touches (the little phials of colour representing the chemistry of composition), but never going in the direction of campness or irreverence which this director is capable of but clearly finds inappropriate for this major work.
Thanks to Philippe Jordan's conducting and supporting the idea from the orchestra pit - the performance filled with warmth and a complementary of blending of the complex moods and colours of Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg - it's possible to enjoy the production without having to grasp all the historical references and controversies that have dogged the work throughout its lifetime. The singing, from an absolute A-list of Wagnerian singers, also truly brings out all the musical qualities of the work. It's a sheer delight to see them all combining to such remarkable effect on this great work.
The singing is exemplary, but it's more than just technical prowess being exhibited here. There's evidently a strong directorial hand in the characterisation which brings in full individual engagement and collaborative interaction between the performers. I don't think I've ever seen Klaus Florian Vogt perform better anywhere than he does with this Walther von Stolzing. His distinctive light youthfully lyrical tone is perfectly suited to the role, but in performance too he seems totally involved with the character, the drama, and in reaction to the figures around him. Judging by the mixed reception at the curtain call, the casting of Anne Schwanewilms as Eva was a little more divisive, but personally I thought her performance was exceptionally good, her voice as distinctive as Vogt's, full of character and with extraordinary swoops and expressive detail.
Michael Volle and Johannes Martin Kränzle of course have a well-honed double act as Sachs and Beckmesser, but they adapt that well to the requirements of the production bringing even more depth to the interpretation and the characterisation. There is never a moment when they don't have you entirely in their spell, bringing nuance and complexity to the soul-searching explorations. Volle in particular gives a mighty performance, again the best I've ever seen from him or indeed from anyone in this role. When his Wagner/Sachs addresses the charges laid against him and fervently pleads his case from the Nuremberg witness stand asking "how can the art be unworthy which embraces such prizes?", there's not a jury in the land that would convict him.
Links: Bayreuther Festspiele, BR-Klassik
Carl Maria von Weber - Oberon, König der Elfen
Bayerische Staatsoper, 2017
Ivor Bolton, Nikolaus Habjan, Julian Prégardien, Alyona Abramowa, Annette Dasch, Brenden Gunnell, Rachael Wilson, Johannes Kammler, Anna El-Khashem, Manuela Linshalm, Daniel Frantisek Kamen, Sebastian Mock
Staatsoper.TV - 30th July 2017
The spirit and influence of Mozart's The Magic Flute weighs heavily upon Carl Maria von Weber's Oberon, König der Elfen, although it has more of a mythological quality and less of the masonic rituals. To bring it a little more down to earth in terms of human feelings and away from the fairies, the opera also borrows from the romantic complications of Mozart's Die Entführung aus dem Serail, where the constancy of love is put to the test. It's a kind of experiment then, and this aspect is very much taken up in the Bavarian State Opera's entertaining production for their 2017 summer festival.
Oberon and Titania, like Sarastro and the Queen of the Night, are unable to reconcile their views on mankind, specifically on their capacity to love and remain constant and faithful in such matters, and they decide to conduct an experiment. Oberon selects a brave knight, Huon von Bordeaux to be his champion, his Tamino, with Scherasmin his valet as his Papageno. He is given a vision of a beautiful young maiden, Rezia, the daughter of the Caliph of Baghdad and the young knight is immediately enchanted, singing a Tamino-like 'Dies Bildnis ist bezaubernd schön' style aria.
The Magic Flute parallels continue to come with not one but three Pucks being in service to Oberon and the two adventurers being gifted with magical objects that will aid them on their quest: Huon, a horn, and Scherasmin a magic goblet. Immediately on their arrival in Baghdad, Huon is attacked by a fierce lion which he manages to overcome. Once in the caliph's court, where Huon helps Rezia escape from an unwelcome marriage to Prince, the opera becomes a little more Die Entführung aus dem Serail-like in its treatment.
Like The Magic Flute, and indeed Die Entführung aus dem Serail, the spirit in which the opera is played has a lot to do with how successfully it comes across. Nikolaus Habjan's production takes the 'experiment' side of the work at a little more literally, setting the production in a science laboratory where 'Oberon' and 'Titania' are scientists. The humans are not spirited away to Baghdad, but with a few puppet props (and a very large one for Oberon), and with the assistance of a 'magic spell' (delivered via hypodermic needle), the ordinary humans are led to believe that they have been transformed into knights on a noble quest to win the love of a beautiful damsel and her maid.
The distancing effect of this framing from a fairy tale is by no means a way to allow the work to be looked on ironically or in an inappropriately serious deconstruction, but rather as a way of making it even more playful. And perhaps a little more human. At the same time however, it's important to retain some of the magic and wonder of the fairy tale, and the Austrian director does that wonderfully by drawing on the traditional puppet shows that he grew up watching. Here they are full-sized puppets, used mainly for the Arabian characters and operated by technicians in the laboratory, and they do successfully inject a larger-than-life quality to the work.
It's a simple twist on the story, but one that is enough to lift it out of an antique fairy tale structure into the realm of the modern day without losing the essential magic spirit and the colourful character of the original work. Still, there aren't too many challenges faced by our 'heroes' in the first half of the story. As they make their escape on a ship to Greece in the second part of the work, Titania thinks that things need shook-up a little, and - in full Queen of the Night mode - she sends a huge storm to see how constant the couples remain when some turbulence is thrown their way.
And a few challenges are exactly what the opera itself needs, having coasted along fairly easily on the tails of Mozart for the first half. Weber rises to the challenge with some lovely choruses and a huge dose of Romanticism that provides plenty of opportunity for spectacle with musical and singing fireworks to match. The production, the singing and the musical performance from Ivor Bolton all live up to those requirements as well. Brenden Gunnell is excellent as Huon, exhibiting a fine lyrical Tamino-like tenor and fully entering into the spirit of the piece. Annette Dasch is no less committed as Rezia, bringing considerable character to the role, even if she doesn't always land well when she launches at those high notes.
Oberon, König der Elfen is certainly less well known than Weber's classic Der Freischütz, but it's an enchanting piece. It's less ambitious than Mozart in sentiment and execution and certainly doesn't have the same musical genius or memorable pieces, but it has considerable character of its own, particularly when a good production like this shows its merits.
Giacomo Rossini - Guillaume Tell
Royal Opera House, 2015
Antonio Pappano, Damiano Michieletto, Gerald Finley, John Osborn, Malin Byström, Alexander Vinogradov, Sofia Fomina, Enkelejda Shkosa, Nicolas Courjal, Eric Halfvarson, Michael Colvin, Samuel Dale Johnson, Enea Scala
Opus Arte - Blu-ray
The Royal Opera House production of William Tell caused a bit of an uproar over some explicit content that some thought had no place in Rossini's opera, specifically a scene depicting the rape of a young village woman by Gesler's soldiers. As is often the case, it appears that one scene has come in for undue attention, taken out of context of the production as a whole. While it is uncomfortably long it's meant to make the audience feel uncomfortable, and if so Damiano Michieletto succeeds in getting across the reality of military oppression and war crimes, which is surely what the legend of William Tell and Rossini's opera is all about. Or is it?
Well, there's an argument to be made on both sides. For a start, Michieletto is not recounting the legend of William Tell and the Swiss rebellion against the oppressive Austrian Habsburg regime in the 14th century, but rather updates it to a more modern setting that looks more like it takes place in one of the Balkan states, the Ukraine or Crimea. It's not just that the director wants to de-romanticise the William Tell legend, since it's apparent to anyone who listens closely to the score that Rossini by no means romanticises the subject of military oppression and genocide. All Michieletto is doing is bringing the underlying reality of that to the stage rather than hide it behind costume drama theatrics.
There's a case to be made however that Rossini's music - in that controversial scene certainly - doesn't depict that kind of brutal realism. And even if it has been toned down a little for this video recording, do we really want to see it acted out in this way on the stage? We wouldn't watch it if it was on the news and surely acting out a rape scene on the stage and choreographing it to Rossini's music risks cheapening the horror of the reality. Well, that's why we have directors to make decisions about how far to go in the visual staging of an opera and Damiano Michieletto takes sensitivities on both sides into account in the Royal Opera House production.
Rossini's music might indeed suggest more of mythological hero of the kind that Jemmy reads about in his comic books, while playing with his toy soldiers, as we see during the famous four-part overture that Rossini devises for the opera - an overture that is unlike any of his previous dashed-out-in-minutes-just-before-the-opening-night overtures for his earlier operas. The overture captures the sense of human suffering and endurance, buoyed by a sense of unquenchable spirit for heroic resistance, and finally acceptance of the human reality and the cost that must be paid for it. It's all there in Rossini's overture, it's expanded on (considerably) over the long opera, and all that is there in Michieletto's production as well.
The romantic image of the 14th century folk legend and what he stands for is there in Jemmy's imagination; a figure who steps off the comic book page in this production and gives the strength and inspiration of the ideal to those living with the reality. The Robin Hood-like figure tries to rouse the people of the little village of Bürglen with his arrow, but the despairing villagers are clearly too terrified having suffered at the hands of the brutal Austrian governor of the region, Gesler. William Tell, all too aware of the bitter reality that they have to live with on a daily basis, is himself is disgusted at his son's nonsense, and is reluctant to take up the quiver presented to him by the ghostly figure of legend.
But take it up he does. He first attempts passive resistance (refusing to bow before Gesler's hat) and appeasement (shooting the apple from his son's head), before realising that other more direct and violent means are necessary. It's not acceptable to just heroically storm in there and Rossini's opera, based on Friedrich Schiller's play, incorporates a variety of real human responses, not just through Tell and his family, but also the suffering endured by Arnold Melchtal through the murder of his father, and the compromised position he is in with regards to his post in the Austrian army and his relationship with Mathilde. Family, above all is what is important, and it's complicated. There's also a sense of the community as a family and it is in the realisation of the greater good being served for the sake of this family that the path to action becomes clearer.
Michieletto's production takes all of this into account, placing great emphasis on the family connections and the depth of feeling that Rossini's score gives them in the opera. He contrasts this - in sharp lighting with long shadows - with the devastation that had been done, the landscape a wasteland with uprooted trees featuring prominently. Nature has been defiled. At the same time, it's important that the turning point that is reached is one that justifies Tell's actions. The horror of Tell having to shoot an apple off the head of his own son is vividly depicted in the opera, but the folk legend is unlikely to have the same impact for a modern audience used to seeing worse horrors on the TV every night, and if Michieletto deems it necessary to elaborate on a scene that is discreetly alluded to in the libretto in order to make the work function dramatically, well, that's his job.
Obviously not everyone will agree with the means employed, but regardless of the merits of the production designs and the concept employed, the musical and singing performances make a convincing case for the brilliance of Rossini's masterpiece. The Royal Opera House orchestra under Antonio Pappano put in an outstanding performance, forceful, lyrical and dynamic, never over-playing or over-emphasising Rossini score into grand opera mannerisms, but remaining sensitive to the pace and varied moods of the piece. It's often dazzling, particularly with the uncompressed high quality audio mixing on the Blu-ray disc.
The casting too is of the highest order for what is undoubtedly an extremely challenging and a long work to sing for all its principals. I'm not sure why I never get terribly excited about Gerald Finley in a leading role, but perhaps it's because there are just never any airs or showiness attached to his performances. That doesn't mean that he is ever merely filling a role functionally; his William Tell here is faultlessly controlled and expressive in singing, his acting performance completely within character. John Osborn is one of the most underrated Rossini tenors out there, and one of the few who can really do justice to a role as challenging as Arnold. He's quite brilliant here. I've been hard on Malin Byström in the past, but she amply demonstrates how good she can be here and is simply extraordinary as Mathilde. Keeping the emphasis essentially on the family theme, Sofia Fomina presents a lively, spirited Jemmy and Enkelejda Shkosa a touching Hedwige. Nicolas Courjal is a force to be reckoned with, as you would expect Gesler to be. The chorus also play their important role in the opera exceptionally well.
Links: Royal Opera House
Brett Dean - Hamlet
Glyndebourne 2017
Neil Armfield, Vladimir Jurowski, Allan Clayton, Barbara Hannigan, Sarah Connolly, Rod Gilfry, John Tomlinson, Kim Begley, David Butt Philip, Jacques Imbrailo, Rupert Enticknap, Christopher Lowrey
Medici - 6th July 2017
The creation of a new opera based on 'Hamlet' is no minor event in the opera calendar and with all eyes on Glyndebourne and a streamed live performance of the new works, there must be considerable pressure to do this Shakespeare work right and make an impact. All credit to the creators and performers involved then, since Brett Dean's Hamlet proves to be a not only a very good adaptation of Shakespeare but a strong operatic drama in its own right.
The challenge with making an opera out of 'Hamlet' would I imagine be much the same as any other many attempts to adapt Shakespeare, only more so. It involves keeping the essence and tone of the work intact, while having to make drastic cuts, and 'Hamlet' is one of Shakespeare's longest, most complex and surely difficult plays to work with, involving such difficult choices even for the dramatic stage.
As with Ambroise Thomas's Hamlet, it's essential to keep key scenes and speeches, but that alone is not enough - certainly not in the case of Thomas. Brett Dean and his librettist Matthew Jocelyn however have one major advantage over most other opera adaptations of Shakespeare in that they can retain much of the original English text and the rich poetry of the original. Dean's Hamlet then is not exactly word-for-word, but often close to the original, paying particularly attention to the delivery of the play's most famous and important lines.
The other critical factor in making it work as a dramatic piece which can't be underestimated (and again something that applies equally to any performance of the stage play), is finding capable performers with the ability to breathe life and personality into the characters. With an extraordinarily strong cast that includes Allan Clayton, Barbara Hannigan, Rod Gilfry,
Sarah Connolly and John Tomlinson, Glyndebourne's world premiere performances certainly have the strongest assembly of singers possible for these roles.
Allan Clayton gives it everything as Hamlet, but crucially finds that essential need to make the Prince's wilful madness sympathetic and not just morbidly obsessive or a raging madman. To do that, you also have to make Claudius and Gertrude convincing and - critically - establish those connections and contrasts of outlook in their interaction. This is something that is brought out not only through the medium of Ophelia (played with agonising sincerity and determination by the outstanding Barbara Hannigan who brings the mad scene back into modern opera in a spectacular fashion) and her father Polonious, but also by the supporting characters (in the fullest sense of supporting and character) by Horatio, by Laertes and even by Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.
Essentially then, there are no 'supporting characters' as such, as its the interaction between them all that creates a complex situation of conflicting purposes and personalities. And the Glyndebourne casts it as such with Rod Gilfry and Sarah Connolly stamping their personality all over Claudius and Gertrud with tremendous singing performances, but also with the likes of Jacques Imbrailo singing Horatio, Kim Begley as Polonious and John Tomlinson singing the ghost of Hamlet's father, one of the players and the gravedigger. All of these figures could easily be side-lined by the need to cut and condense, but it's to the credit of the opera that there is recognition that they are not just there to provide colour, but have a vital dramatic role to play in the work.
The question remains however whether Shakespeare gains anything from being adapted to the opera stage, and perhaps it never really does. The real question however is whether - again like any stage production of the play - it serves the work and can bring a certain character of its own to bear on a great work. Musically, Dean's music rarely calls attention to itself, and certainly doesn't over-assert itself over the inherent force of the drama and the language, but rather it controls mood and pacing, hinting at deeper tensions and stirring trouble, bringing some dramatic emphasis where necessary. It does well in the manner that the music and repetition can highlight certain words and phrases, overlaying them in a way that traditional theatre cannot to bring opposing views into even starker contrast.
Brett Dean's Hamlet can then be quite difficult to follow in a single viewing, even for those familiar with the play. Actually, familiarity with 'Hamlet' can even make things more difficult, since you find yourself looking for dramatic cuts and variances, looking for interpretation of familiar themes and considering how it measures up to the original. That can lead to the music not being given the same due attention for the role it plays that the singing performances receive, but together there is no question that Dean's Hamlet grips and holds attention and relates the story of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark with considerable fidelity as a good opera drama, as well as having something of its own to contribute to its telling. The finale, as good a measure of a 'Hamlet' as any other scene, is outstandingly staged and musically set. All the more for having Rosencrantz and Guildenstern die an on-stage death at this point along with almost everyone else.
The stage direction of Neil Armfield and the conducting of Vladimir Jurowski have no small part to play in the success of the endeavour. The set design is all tall panels from a rich mansion that shift and slide to reveal the darkness behind, the opera flowing seamlessly from one scene to the next. The costumes are modern-dress, the nobles wearing suits and formal dresses, the others a little shabbier, with Hamlet and Ophelia's descents into madness (whether feigned or real) reflected in the increasing disarray of their outfits. Everyone is pale pansticked white-faced. It's a thoroughly nightmarish 'Hamlet' world. Jurowski handles the complexities and lovely idiosyncrasies of the musical arrangements well, the score and the performances allowing the qualities of the libretto and the singing the fullest expression.
Links: Glyndebourne, Medici
George Frideric Handel - Acis and Galatea
Opera Theatre Company, Dublin - 2017
Peter Whelan, Tom Creed, Susanna Fairbairn, Eamonn Mulhall, Edward Grint, Andrew Gavin, Peter O'Reilly, Sinéad O'Kelly, Fearghal Curtis, Cormac Lawlor
Opera Platform - 11 April 2017
It certainly comes as a bit of a surprise and does initially seem a little jarring to find the mythological content of Handel's pastoral opera Acis and Galatea located in a little provincial Irish pub. In the Opera Theatre Company's 2017 production, Handel's fable opens with the nymphs and shepherds coming in from the fields for a quick half and then changing out of their work clothes to take part in a line-dance hoedown.
It's certainly not the first image that comes to mind when you think of nymphs and shepherds in the bucolic setting of a pastoral opera, but there's ample justification for it. Checking the definition on Google, it says that a pastoral is a work that portrays an idealised version of country life, and when you put it like that and apply it to an Irish setting, the connection not only seems obvious in an equivalent modern context, but the way that the tale plays out in this setting also serves to touch on the true spirit of the piece.
This is always a key point when it comes to bringing Handel to the modern opera stage, particularly in those pieces that are more choral or oratorio in format like Acis and Galatea. It's essential not to ironically poke fun at the easy target of its idealised sentiments, but it doesn't serve the works particularly well either to play them in some kind of kitsch notion of traditional period that a modern audience will find impossible to respond to in the way that they might have 300 years ago.
On the other hand, the idea of idealisation is at the heart of Acis and Galatea, but to make it meaningful, there has to be some basis for it in reality. Tom Creed's Irish setting isn't just modernisation for the sake of being clever, it finds a way to touch more deeply on the sentiments at the heart of the work and bring that across to the audiences on the Opera Theatre Company's Irish tour. It does it so well that there's every reason to believe that it can communicate that to a wider audience in its streamed broadcast on the Opera Platform.
Adjusting expectations, bringing a clear head to lofty ideals and rushes of emotions is very much what Acis and Galatea is about, but it's also about transforming reality or creating something greater out of it. For the nymphs and shepherds, it's about celebrating the end of the day in a song and a dance (and maybe a drink or two). The semi-divine nymph Galatea (here a barmaid, much the same thing after that transformative drink or two) is troubled by the far too lofty ideals she holds in her love for the shepherd Acis, and it needs some helpful intervention from Damon to caution both of them to have a little more restraint.
The same goes for the monstrous ogre Polyphemus (here a belligerent drunk), who thinks he can gain the love of Galatea by force. Again, Damon suggests that a more gentle approach might win a fair maid ("Would you gain the tender creature"). The reaction of Acis is perhaps over-solicitous ("Love sounds th' alarm") and again he is cautioned to be more moderate in his behaviour ("Consider, fond shepherd, how fleeting's the pleasure that flatters our hopes in pursuit of the fair"). It's to no avail, as an inebriated Polyphemus staggers in and clobbers him with a brick to the head ("crushed beneath a stone") in a barroom brawl.
Acis and Galatea is not just a morality tale that warns of giving excessive licence to the sentiments, it's more about recognising them - good and bad - and being able to transform them into something more noble. In this way, humans can aspire towards the divine, and even in death Acis is transformed into a fountain. Tom Creed's handling of this vital scene is critical to the success of the production and its overall message. The flashing lights of the emergency services outside the bar, the ambulance men working on the fatally injured man in the foreground all hit home the reality of the death of Acis, while the 'fountain' supplies his friends with a drink to his memory, the commemoration of which will hopefully serve to transform the lives of others.
Music and opera is also an essential element of the transformative experience, turning stories of love and tragedy into something instructive and ennobling, and that's where Handel comes in. Musically, Acis and Galatea is one of the composer's most beautiful works, all its richness compressed into a short work that if filled with memorable melodies and songs. In the context of the performance by the Irish Baroque Orchestra conducted by Peter Whelan, some of the flute playing even delightfully evokes a sense of traditional folk music, cementing the connection between the mythology and its relocation perfectly.
Paul O'Mahony's revolving set provides a lovingly detailed Irish pub interior, exterior and backroom for the cast to move about and give far more expression than you might expect from a work with little dramatic playing. The cast all take their roles well, with a soft gentleness of expression that is perfect for the overall sentiments of the work and its more down-to-earth reduction of the choral parts. Andrew Gavin's Damon is the gentle spirit of temperance that tries to moderate Edward Grint's Polyphemus - played perfectly as more of an awkward drunken fool than an evil monster. Susanna Fairbairn's Galatea and Eamonn Mulhall's Acis bring the same kind of measured dynamic to those roles, keeping them grounded in the realism that the production strives to achieve, while still matching the opera's aspirations to create something greater.
George Frideric Handel - Semele
Badisches Staatstheater, Karlsruhe - 2017
Christopher Moulds, Floris Visser, Jennifer France, Ed Lyon, Dilara Baştar, Katharine Tier, Terry Wey, Edward Gauntt, Hannah Bradbury, Yang Xu, Ilkin Alpay
Opera Platform - May 2017
If you consider it in simple dramatic terms, not a great deal happens in Semele. It's a tale of Jupiter up to his old tricks again, spiriting down to mingle with mortals and have his pick of whatever attractive lady takes his fancy, much to the displeasure of his long-suffering wife, Juno. Based on the classical legend from Ovid's Metamorphoses, there's a basic moral about Semele's pride in consorting with the gods and thinking herself their equal, but primarily it's a poetic subject, with any relatable human context submerged in flowery language and mythological matters of the gods.
The range of sentiments and the manner in which they are couched however provide perfect material for Handel to demonstrate what he could achieve at this stage in his career. Semele's subject matter and treatment would make it more suitable for the English oratorio format than the Italian opera form that the composer had by this stage abandoned. The story's distinct scenes offer a variety of musical responses that Handel undertakes with grace, wit and invention. Producing the non-religious subject of Semele as an oratorio for the Lent season of 1744 stirred up some resentment and controversy, but Handel was never one to let tradition overrule musical imperatives and his own desire progress and develop the music-drama form.
Despite Handel's wonderful variety of musical moods - and a few famous arias - Semele can still be a little dry in its subject matter, in its repetition of banal statements and its delivery of solemn declamations, so it undoubtedly helps if you can enliven a dramatic presentation and bring the gods a little more down-to-earth. The Badisches Staatstheater Karlsruhe production directed by Floris Visser does that in a very clever manner that updates the context of the story of Semele while at the same time retaining near complete fidelity towards character and purpose. Just as importantly, the production fully captures the essential spirit and charm of Handel's musical arrangements for the work. It's not profound, but it's certainly clever, charming and - with Handel's music behind it all - enchanting.
A lovely little dramatic play over the intro sets the scene quite perfectly in the Karlsruhe production. Here Jupiter is a philandering American President with an eye for the ladies (take your pick - most of the costume designs and Ed Lyon's appearance suggest JFK era, but the use of technology and a Monica Lewinsky reference in the closing scene give it a more timeless application). Recently inaugurated, it's not long before the first lady Juno catches the President carrying on with his secretary Semele (daughter of Cadmus, the King of Thebes, who no doubt has the influence to get her a post at the White House as an intern). Furious, the President's wife arranges for the threat to be neutralised by arranging a marriage for the young woman to Athamas, a promising young military officer.
Act I of the oratorio/opera then opens with the familiar setting of the unfortunate playing out of those wedding arrangements, the somewhat drawn-out wedding situation at least engaging the interest in seeing how this modern twist can be made to fit in with the mythological content and whether any real-world message can as a consequence cut through the old-fashioned trappings of antiquity. With numerous inventive responses - I imagine that a certain amount of credit for that must go to the creative and meaningful development of the dramaturgy by Klaus Bertisch - the Karlsruhe production does that very well and makes it thoroughly entertaining into the bargain.
To cite just a few examples, the wedding of Act I has a timeless feel, with character types and situations that are much more recognisable in this context. In place of the thunderbolts that herald Jupiter's intervention, we see instead the President directing a SWAT operation that provides just as much storm and drama without the hokey imagery of gods descending on clouds and chariots. Nor are there dragons with a "thousand fiery eyes" that guard Semele's hidden mountain retreat, but a video of an armaments test of new helicopter technology by Juno's PA Iris achieves much the same impact and effect.
Aside from the clever technical solutions provided, Floris Visser also ensures that the characters also respond appropriately to this world view, without straying too far away from the essence of what the drama is striving to convey. Juno and Iris provide the most fun, knocking back a bottle of Jack Daniels as they plot revenge on Jupiter. Somnus, the God of Sleep who they engage/blackmail to help them storm Jupiter's hideaway, is a dozy porn-addicted computer geek who will hack the system in return for sexual favours. The magic mirror that Juno uses to appeals to Semele's vanity is a camera, and it's also at the hands of the press - flashbulbs replacing bolts of lightning - that Semele is undone and realises too late her mistake in consorting with the 'gods' who play by their own rules with little thought for the consequences it has for 'ordinary' people.
This all brings a welcome sense of fun and significance that is wholly appropriate for the work, but it doesn't neglect the greater variety of mood and emotions that Handel was able to develop outside the restrictions of the Italian opera format. There's tenderness in the situations of Athamas and Ino; there's a jaunty smugness to Juno and Iris at the success of their plotting and of course; there's considerable breadth of character to Semele and the experience she undergoes beyond the normal fluctuations between joy and despair. Visibly pregnant at the end of Act I, with a couple of fantasy dream sequences illustrating her illusions, her predicament is made rather more meaningful and clearer than their child mystically arising out of her ashes at the conclusion (the birth of Bacchus no doubt a boon for those two dipsos Juno and Iris).
Christopher Moulds conducts the score with the requisite attention to pacing, rhythm and mood, perhaps smoothing the edges out a little, but it's hard to determine that from a compressed audio stream. The singing too holds up its side of the deal that is required to make this production work so well, with engaging performances throughout. Jennifer France is a lively and assertive Semele, not just a floozy for the President, impressive in her characterisation of the role, which is sung wonderfully. Ed Lyon, more presidential than god-like, gives an engaging performance; Terry Wey's lovely alto countertenor brings a measure of sweetness and sympathy for Athamas; Katharine Tier and Hannah Bradbury make a great team and provide some of the most entertaining moments as Juno and Iris. The demands of the English diction are a challenge for Dilara Baştar and her Ino sounds overly harsh at first, but she comes into the role well.
Links: Badisches Staatstheater Karlsruhe, Opera Platform
