Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart - Die Zauberflöte
Glyndebourne, 2019
Ryan Wigglesworth, André Barbe, Renaud Doucet, David Portillo, Sofia Fomino, Brindley Sherratt, Björn Bürger, Caroline Wettergreen, Michael Kraus, Esther Dierkes, Marta Fontanals-Simmons, Katharina Magiera, Jörg Schneider, Alison Rose, Freddie Jemison, Aman De Silva, Stephan Dyakonov, Thomas Atkins, Martin Snell
Opus Arte - Blu-ray
Maybe it's the fact that it's Glyndebourne or maybe the popularity of Downton Abbey has made the idea of the English country estate more romantic and idealised, but there does seem to be a tendency to incorporate such old English period ideas into operas produced there. Some are perfectly appropriate and fit perfectly, such as Verdi's Falstaff, some such as Ariadne auf Naxos are a bit of a stretch but nonetheless wholly successful, and Barber's Vanessa seem perfectly at home there. Mozart's Die Zauberflöte is a work very much open to imaginative reinterpretation that can reveal new facets to the work - none more so than Romeo Castellucci's production for La Monnaie in Brussels - but even so Barbe and Doucet are undoubtedly going to have to take a few liberties to set The Magic Flute in an Edwardian hotel.
But ideas and imagination are exactly what you want for Mozart's delightful, sometimes enigmatic but most purely enjoyable opera. In Barbe and Doucet's hotel, the three ladies are all maids and Papageno seems to be an eccentric guest with a thing for feather pillows and duvets. Coming down into the lobby in his pyjamas, perhaps in the middle of a nightmare, Tamino is attacked by a monster serpent assembled out of new but still primitive technology. The Queen of the Night is the hotel owner who makes her grand appearance to lay down the law in a clanking lift. The three boys are suitably attired in bellhop uniforms. Sarastro is the head chef, his brotherhood the hotel's cooks. Monostatos down in the basement, below even the servants and maids, shovels coal (which accounts for his black skin) to keep the hotel heated, and it's there that he has dragged Pamina.
The theme of this production of is clear enough and the characters all have vaguely appropriate and recognisable roles in the hierarchy of the hotel, even if it doesn't quite match the stratification of Mozart's society. From the Age of Enlightenment to the Age of Progress however, it does at least correlate with a period of progress, the early twentieth century being on the cusp of the modern age, challenging outdated notions of tradition, which of course includes women's suffrage. That's perhaps not necessarily a development that the Age of Enlightenment libretto is quite ready for ("Women do little but chatter a lot", "Without the guidance of men, women tend to rise above their station"), nor perhaps the Masonic traditions and ceremonies celebrated in Mozart's opera. There is something here however that captures the wind of change and an awareness of class and social inequality that is at least partly consistent with the intentions of the opera.
Something else you expect with The Magic Flute is a magical colourful fairy tale or storybook character and you certainly get that in André Barbe's highly stylised Edwardian designs. The sets are all of the cardboard cut-out variety, using Barbe's hand-drawn sketches and blowing them up to give the impression of a set model expanded to life-size. The detail is impressive, creating a storybook-like background that the colourful characters all stand out against. It really looks stunning. Puppeteers provide the magical elements which fit as suitably old-fashioned theatrical effects. The puppetry is sometimes over-used and a little superfluous, but when used for effect - such as with the armoured men - it makes a great impression. The costumes are marvellous, Edwardian elegance with colourful stylistic cartoon flourishes. Unquestionably, the production design is a thing of beauty and style, the period chosen a useful one to explore some of the themes of the work.
Some, but not all. It doesn't really get to grips with the divisions of physical and spiritual needs of mankind, the struggle between enlightenment versus mysticism, on overcoming darkness and despair, the power of music as a transformative force that is open and accessible to everyone as demonstrated in Die Zauberflöte's wonderful blend of high art and comic pantomime. The elegance of the setting in a grand hotel also precludes any deeper commentary on the class struggle and the belief that all men are equal and can aspire to the betterment of individuals and society. Tamino and Pamina's success in the trial by fire and water for example is to become masters of kitchen skills, which is amusingly staged but doesn't really get to the heart of the work.
There's little to complain about in the singing, which is mostly good even if there's nothing to lift this to another level. Among the more notable performances, Björn Bürger's Papageno is strong and entertaining and Brindley Sherratt is superb, giving one of the most assured and controlled performances I've seen as Sarastro. Jörg Schneider's Monostatos is also well sung and played. There's always a risk that Tamino and Pamina can appear a little bland if insufficiently characterised and they can come across as rather bland. Tamino and Pamina are perhaps somewhat over-privileged because of their upbringing and need to experience the realities of the world in order to find the wisdom to mend the inequalities (perhaps not by great cookery though). Although we have two earnest performances from David Portillo and Sofia Fomino that suit the content and treatment here, neither of them are developed enough to compensate for these weaknesses in characterisation.
Conducted by Ryan Wigglesworth, there's a fullness of sound in the orchestration and no sign of any period or historically informed instrumentation. The delivery is a little cool in places, working better in the more buoyant and humorous scenes than in the more solemn and emotional scenes, but that could also be an impression informed by the staging, which can inevitably feel a little stuffy and mannered in places. You don't always get a sense of the varied parts of the work coming together in the way that should give Die Zauberflöte a greater sense of completeness and accomplishment, nor is it entirely successful consequently in getting across the deeper character of the work or the application of its many levels of meaning as they relate to all aspects of human nature.
It's a thoroughly entertaining an impressively designed Die Zauberflöte however and it comes across well on the High Definition presentation on the Opus Arte Blu-ray. The disc contains a short Making Of extra feature that focusses on Barbe and Doucet's creation for Glyndebourne, revealing that their Queen of the Night was inspired by a turn of the century lady owner of a Viennese hotel. The feature also covers the challenge of turning the André Barbe's wonderfully detailed sketches into sets. There's also a Cast Gallery and a very informative booklet essay by Nicholas Till on the creation of Die Zauberflöte and the influences that shaped it.
Links: Glyndebourne
Showing posts with label André Barbe. Show all posts
Showing posts with label André Barbe. Show all posts
Tuesday, 9 June 2020
Sunday, 28 October 2018
Mercadante - Il Bravo (Wexford, 2018)
Saverio Mercadante - Il Bravo
Wexford Festival Opera, 2018
Jonathan Brandani, André Barbe, Renaud Doucet, Rubens Pelizzari, Alessandro Luciano, Gustavo Castillo, Simon Mechlinski, Ekaterina Bakanova, Yasko Sato, José de Eça, Toni Nežić, Richard Shaffrey, Ioana Constantin-Pipelea
O'Reilly Theatre, National Opera House, Wexford - 24 October 2018
Wexford, if no-where else, continues to make a case for Saverio Mercadante. Falling somewhere between Rossini on one side and Verdi on the other, Mercadante has been overshadowed by two titans of Italian opera and that's a situation that is surely unjust. The world can unfortunately be unjust and essentially that is what Mercadante's Il Bravo is all about. The opera itself, pretty much obscure and forgotten, makes a good case for this sad reality.
The evidence so far in terms of the few opportunities we have had to see Mercadante staged, are that his 'hit rate' as the composer of around 60 operas surely couldn't have been lesser than that of Rossini or Verdi. Il Bravo in fact is musically much more adventurous than much of Rossini and certainly superior to early Verdi, Il Bravo coming in 1839 the same year as Verdi's debut opera Oberto. Or perhaps just a little more adventurous maybe, but certainly far enough away from the strict rules and expectations of the public to worry the critics and his audience of the time.
Where Il Bravo is perhaps a little over-ambitious however is in the nature of the drama and the plotting itself, although perhaps no more so than an audience would be accustomed to from Rossini and Verdi. The plot is perhaps too convoluted to detail, but as it is necessary to understand the impact that Mercadante is striving for, I'll make use of the Wexford Festival Opera's admirably concise early outline summary rather than attempt a full synopsis:
Set in 16th-century Venice, the Bravo of the title is a tormented character who long ago killed his wife in a fit of jealousy; unjustly accused of plotting against the state, he has been forced by the Council of Ten to become their secret hired assassin, while his father is held hostage to compel his obedience. The story also involves Pisani, a young man under sentence of banishment, in love with a girl whom he believes to be immured in Venice; Violetta, the girl in question, who has been under the protection of the Bravo since the murder of her guardian by a would-be abductor; and Teodora, a wealthy foreigner living in Venice, who turns out to be not only Violetta’s mother but also the Bravo’s wife, whom he had not killed after all.
All of the characters in Il Bravo are fighting against injustice done to them, usually by a higher human power or corrupt agency rather than fate or outrageous fortune. They consequently try to put their belief in truth and natural justice and are prepared to stand up for it, but are unjustly rewarded for their efforts. Some of the twists that lead to those conclusions however don't quite adhere to the same sense of reality or human response to situations. The disappearance of Il Bravo/Carlo's wife Violetta and her reappearance as Teodora with a daughter called Violetta is not only confusing, it's not really fully explained either, nor are the motivations clear why she is so glad to be reunited with him.
Dramatic contrivances go with the territory however and there's no denying that they have a tremendous impact. The final twist of Carlo discovering that his father has died, freeing him of his obligations as an assassin comes hot on the heels of Teodora's sacrificial suicide to free Il Bravo from his final unthinkable commission, and it's a real kicker, particularly in its musical delivery. Il Bravo is restrained in its use of big number arias, Mercadante permitting no unnecessary vocal fireworks but remaining rather dramatically attuned to the action musically and in terms of singing, allowing the drama to direct impact, with a few thunderous choruses thrown in for good measure. Rubens Pelizzari certainly lives up to the challenges of the title role of the assassin.
There are no bel canto extravaganzas or melodic flourishes either in the singing, but that doesn't make it any less demanding. Mercadante doesn't waste a scene in the opera and doesn't waste any characters. In another opera of its time Act II could be filler crowd-pleasing material but Mercadante keeps up the tension, scoring each scene for full dramatic impact. Nearly all the performers, with the exception possibly of Ekaterina Bakanova's Violetta, took time to find their feet, either too hesitant or too forced, lacking fluidity and barking our words. Under Jonathan Brandani's musical direction however, they soon warm up and the momentum of the work itself seems to carry them thrillingly along. Sometimes a little over-zealously, as is the nature of the drama where there is a lot going on and a lot of characters competing for attention but Brandini does well to reign them in and manage the powerful dynamic that is impassioned but controlled and alive to the drama.
It's also vital that the stage production goes along with this dynamic and controlled passion to deliver the necessary impacts, and despite a few unnecessary touches, André Barbe's designs and Renaud Doucet's direction for Wexford is sympathetic and in touch with the heart of the work, and it's really quite impressive looking too. It's grand and spectacular in its creative abstraction of classical Venice, with all its pomp ceremonies and splendour. The setting is largely period, the dramatic action is 'operatic' in delivery, frequently in stand and deliver mode, but this may be the best way to present Mercadante, and it would be a mistake to try to make Il Bravo contemporary and 'relevant'.
There is a half-hearted effort made in this direction but it feels contrived and doesn't really add to the themes at all, consisting mainly of tourists walking along the same Venice locations, oblivious to the true history of the place and the nature of the kind of drama that once took place there, taking selfies with the Doge and buying souvenirs. Evidently Barbe and Doucet want to at least make a token effort to bring the drama closer to home in the present day, or at least a reminder of the idea of injustice persisting, which is certainly the case for the neglect of the operas of Saverio Mercadante. The performance on the 27th October was broadcast live and is well worth a view on YouTube or ARTE Concert.
Links: Wexford Festival Opera, RTE/YouTube
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