Cilea - Adriana Lecouvreur (New York, 2019)

Francesco Cilea - Adriana Lecouvreur

Metropolitan Opera, 2019

Gianandrea Noseda, David McVicar, Anna Netrebko, Anita Rachvelishvili, Piotr Beczała, Carlo Bosi, Ambrogio Maestri, Maurizio Muraro

Met Live in HD - 12th January 2019

Personally, I didn't see much in the remainder of the Met's Live in HD series that would get me back to the cinema, although it might be interesting to see how Robert LePage's Die Walküre stands up in revival with a different cast. Cilea's Adriana Lecouvreur isn't an opera I've ever seen performed before, but despite being pleasantly surprised by some other more obscure works from the verismo period, this isn't one I would go out of my way to see. The trailer shown during the screening of Nico Muhly's Marnie however was promising, mainly for the casting. Anna Netrebko alone wouldn't have dragged me in, but as a singer's opera with Anita Rachvelishvili and Piotr Beczała on the bill, chances are you weren't going to see the opera done better than this. In the end, as good as the others were, it would have been worth it for Netrebko alone.

The opera itself I still didn't find wholly convincing or interesting. It's not verismo as such, but then verismo is a very fluid concept that for convenience bands together a group of post-Verdi Italian composers with little in common. In reality each of them was trying in their own way to follow Verdi by injecting or placing a greater emphasis on emotional realism, but only Puccini truly succeeded in establishing his own identity and extending on the Italian opera tradition. Despite there being some intrigue around it being based around real-life events, the romantic love-triangle plot of Adriana Lecouvreur doesn't really lend itself to inspired productions either.

Certainly not when it comes to Sir David McVicar who has certainly earned his place in the establishment with his knighthood by playing it very safe indeed, delivering the kind of stodgy 'authentic' traditional productions that are loved by the rather conservative Met Opera in New York. There's some potential in Adriana Lecouvreur being an actress, a diva on the stage of the Comédie-Française, and you would expect a director like McVicar to be able to make something of that, and indeed, if there's nothing spectacularly dramatic about Adriana Lecouvreur or exceptional about David McVicar's production, it is at least theatrical.

Leaving aside Charles Edwards' overly elaborate and literal sets, which are at least attractive and functional for dramatic purposes with its Comédie-Française theatre stage fitted onto the Met stage, McVicar's emphasis is on the theatrics of the piece, pushing each of the characters to the limits of expression, even permitting a fair amount of scenery chewing. It is after all how the roles are scored by Francesco Cilea, and when you've got a cast as exceptional as this, you're going to let them fly and show how far they can take it. Needless to say Anita Rachvelishvili brought fire to the proceedings and Piotr Beczała his usual earnestness an sophistication, but of course no-one was going to upstage the true diva, Anna Netrebko.

I don't want to indulge in hyperbole or try to judge her by the standards of other great sopranos who have sung this role - particularly as I haven't heard them sing this particular opera - but Netrebko really is something exceptional. I don't think there is any other soprano around at the moment who comes anywhere close in terms of charisma, looks, acting ability, professionalism, technique and the sheer quality of voice - the whole package basically; someone who is capable of taking on an opera as romantic and light as Adriana Lecouvreur in a production as unimaginative as this and transforming it into an event. It's not just that it makes you feel it was worthwhile travelling across town on a precious Saturday evening, but you get the impression that you've witnessed something truly special and unforgettable.

Sometimes I get the impression that despite the easy-going attitude, Netrebko can be a little too studious, over-rehearsed, overly-professional and clinical, failing to really find a human character in what are often larger-than-life roles, but not here. She lived the role of Adriana Lecouvreur in as much as it's a theatrical diva, played in character throughout, with little nuances, grimaces and gestures that brought a human realism, showing real feeling in her acting and her singing, investing it with truth and personality; personality that only someone of Anna Netrebko's stature can bring to this role.

While Netrebko is the centre of attention and where the success of a production of this work will stand or fall, one of the secrets to any great opera production is how all the other elements almost invisibly support it. Yes, that certainly shows a good directorial hand, but the strength of each of the other singers can't be underestimated. Neither Anita Rachvelishvili's Princess of Bouillon as her love rival nor Piotr Beczała as Maurizio, the man caught between these feuding divas, were by any means overshadowed by Netrebko, and both give committed performances with exceptional singing that commanded attention. Ambrogio Maestri and Carlo Bosi contributed to the overall quality of the casting, McVicar pushing all of them as far as far as they could go to show Cilea's work for what it is; which isn't much, I still feel, but I can't imagine I'll see it done better.

There was one other example of Anna Netrebko being the consummate professional here in her response to an unfortunate costume malfunction mishap that occurred during the live performance, which becomes even more of a nightmare when it happens during a live worldwide streamed broadcast. It couldn't have come at a worse time either, during in the final emotional moments of Adriana's death by violets scene (I know, that's Adriana Lecouvreur for you). Helping Adriana up from the floor where she has collapsed after being poisoned by Princess de Bouillon, Ambrogio Maestri's cuff button caught in Netrebko's wig just as she is preparing for her big moment, and in a panic he struggled and tugged to get it out. Not only was Netrebko completely unfazed, she used the moment to energise those soaring final lines for an utterly stunning, show-stopping finale.

Links: Metropolitan Opera
Photos credit: Ken Howard 

Verdi - Il Trovatore (Royal Opera House, 2017)

Giuseppe Verdi - Il Trovatore

Royal Opera House, 2017

Richard Farnes, David Bösch, Anita Rachvelishvili, Gregory Kunde, Lianna Haroutounian, Vitaliy Bilyy, Francesca Chiejina, Samuel Sakker

Opus Arte - Blu-ray

The principal challenge for a director approaching Il Trovatore must be to find a way of making its notoriously implausible plot half-way intelligible and work around its operatic template of mannerisms and numbers. It's a tall order and the best you can do is just attempt to tone things down and let Verdi's overheated orchestration provide all the drama. The other approach is to just let fly, run with it, but you need exceptional Verdi singers to make that convincing. David Bösch's production for the Royal Opera House tries to do both, but the focus on mood doesn't quite make up for the static direction and not all the singing performances are quite good enough to carry it off either. There are however some good points to the production and the performances, certainly enough to ride on Verdi's music and bring this work to its breathless conclusion.

The set designs for David Bösch's production settle for the generic modern day setting of a dark barb-wired landscape of wartime devastation that is now unfortunately quite common at the Royal Opera House. As far as mood goes, the dark gothic minimalism works well to downplay some of the more extravagant drama, which is instead allowed to simmer in the recurring presence and imagery of fire. A simple gesture in the opening scene for example, where Ferrando having given his troops and himself the heebie-jeebies over the curse of the evil wicked witch burnt at the stake who still haunts the Count di Luna's family, tentatively kicks over the remnant of the burning camp fire, expecting it looks to find bone lying there.

There's a similar reliance on mood and suggestion elsewhere. Azucena's caravan at the gypsy camp is decorated with macabre looking dolls pinned to its outside, the scene eerily lit by the orange flames of the camp flickering brazier. In terms of direction however there's little thought or effort made to make the characters or the drama feel real of convincing. It's all rather static, the scenes remain a collection of disconnected dramas with no flow or follow-through that aren't resolved in any way until the conclusion. Like the ROH's controversial 2015 Guillaume Tell, it unimaginatively relies on generic groups of soldiers/thugs threatening captives in bleak war-torn landscapes and subjecting them to brutal beatings, torture and execution.

What counts here and ultimately determines the nature of the production is the quality of the Verdian musical and singing performances. In terms of the musical interpretation, the early indications were that Richard Farnes doesn't seem to have much to offer as far as arrangements and interpretation, but in reality it seems it's more just an indication of good pacing. The delivery matches the early setting of mood, building on the drama, letting Verdi's score for the opera take on its own momentum, and when those moments of thunderous impact are needed, it proves to be a full-blooded account.

The singing however is a mixed bag as far as the division between the male and female roles goes. Although there are some impressive moments in the performances of Lianna Haroutounian's Leonora and Vitaliy Bilyy's Conte di Luna, they aren't totally convincing or always secure in their delivery. Both are a little static and their characters lack personality and direction - a fault as much with Verdi and Cammarano's writing as much as the director's failure to bring them to life. Haroutounian is certainly capable, her 'Tu vedrai che amore in terra' quite impressive in its own right, if still not having a good flow or connection to character and situation.

Anita Rachvelishvili and Gregory Kunde are much better equipped to handle the technical and dramatic challenges of Verdi's writing for the voice, and as Azucena and Manrico, their voices and performances ultimately hold more sway over the outcome and effectiveness of the production. Rachvelishvili comes out on top, taking the role of Azucena with relish, matching Verdi's intensity but not overselling it. Kunde is always a joy to hear, a dramatic rather than a belcanto Rossinian, and that kind of dramatic lyricism serves him well for Verdi. He brings real character and personality to Manrico in his stage presence and singing. When these two are in alignment with the thunderous performance of the Royal Opera Orchestra under Richard Farnes, it's enough to carry this Il Trovatore over the line. That's no mean feat.

The Opus Arte Blu-ray presents the recording of the opera on its dark stage very well throughout to such an extent that you can almost feel the heat of the conflagration in the closing scene. The High Resolution audio stereo and surround mixes are superb, giving clear presence to the voices, and if you can listen to it loud (on headphones maybe) the impact of the Anvil Chorus and the more thunderous parts of the score is just amazing. The extra features are not plentiful, just a snappy 3-minute introduction with soundbites from cast and the creatives and a 3-minute look at the set designs. The booklet however contains a very interesting essay by Flora Willson on the history of the writing of the opera and the working relationship between Verdi and Cammarano revealed in their correspondence.

Links: Royal Opera House

Saint-Saëns - Samson et Dalila (Paris, 2016)

Camille Saint-Saëns - Samson et Dalila

L'Opéra de Paris, 2016

Philippe Jordan, Damiano Michieletto, Anita Rachvelishvili, Aleksandrs Antonenko, Egils Silins, Nicolas Testé, Nicolas Cavallier, John Bernard, Luca Sannai, Jian-Hong Zhao 

ARTE Concert - 13 October 2016

Originally conceived as an oratorio Samson et Dalila was, soon after a visit to see Das Rheingold at Bayreuth, developed by Camille Saint-Saëns into something more operatic. If there's little suggestion of Wagnerian influence, the unconventional method of opera composition led to Samson et Dalila having a unique and blend of music and drama elements that were perfect for the composer's strengths. It has Biblical drama, lyrical Romantic passions, lush Eastern musical arrangements and choral fervour that manage to express the contrasting sentiments at the heart of the work. If you like that sort of thing - and it's only slightly less extravagant in its exoticism than Aida - Samson et Dalila can be something fabulous, particularly when the Paris Opera get behind it the way they do in this 2016 production.

Like many other French composers around the end of the nineteenth century, Camille Saint-Saëns shared a fascination for all things oriental, travelling extensively in these exotic places and soaking up more than just a flavour of these new sounds. Mélodies persanes (1870), La Princess Jaune (1872) and Samson et Dalila (1877) are not just influenced by oriental rhythms and melodies, but positively seeped in them. There might be a tendency to regard such borrowings as kitsch or, in the parlance of our times, "cultural appropriation", but they really are what make these works distinctively beautiful.

While there might be a tendency to downplay such elements and attempt to find a middle-ground that is a little acceptable to modern tastes and sensibilities, that's not the strategy adopted by Philippe Jordan for Samson et Dalila. Quite rightly, Jordan conducts the orchestra of the Paris Opera in a manner that emphasises the true merits of the work. It's not only there that you find the sheer beauty of the composer's extravagant orchestration for the piece, but the heart of its drama. With two great singers in the principal roles and attention paid to the choral aspects of the work musically, I found this to be one of the finest and most persuasive performances of Samson et Dalila that I've come across.

Damiano Michieletto's direction of the work at the Bastille doesn't perhaps contribute quite as much as the musical performance to the success of the production, but it functions well enough to give a strong visual and dramatic context for the work. It is a typical Paris production in that, unlike the musical performance, it does tend to settle for a middle-ground. The period lies somewhere between modern and Biblical, with guns and togas (albeit used in an 'ironic' kind of way) and nothing much that adds up to any real conceptual or thematic coherence. Good vertical use is made of the stage, the Hebrew slaves confined to the darker lower levels, the misery of their captivity contrasted with the golden glow of the luxurious decadence of Delilah's bedroom above it.

It's in such contrasts however that Samson et Dalila thrives as a work of music drama, and those contrasts are well reflected also in the complementary casting of Aleksandrs Antonenko and Anita Rachvelishvili. Both artists are regulars at the Paris Opera, and their development there is paying dividends for French opera. While she is capable of great dramatic delivery and an impressive range, Rachvelishvili shows here just how versatile her voice is and how capable she is of expressing the kind of delicacy and tenderness that are vital to Delilah's allure. Evidently it's Delilah's beautiful 'Mon coeur s'ouvre à ta voix' aria that demonstrates what she is capable of, and her delivery of the line 'Réponds à ma tendresse!' is enough to send shivers down the spine.

It's a love/betrayal aria that turns into a duet of course, shared with Samson, and Antonenko blends perfectly. Antonenko is a tenor who is strong right across the range, but only really shines in certain roles. Verdi roles can be testing, and his voice can have a certain steeliness that doesn't open up and bloom as you might like, but here he complements Rachvelishvili well, providing the contrast that is necessary, giving the aria the edge of hesitancy and danger it needs before the recognition of betrayal that comes with the cry of 'Trahison!'. With Jordan and the Paris orchestra right behind this, the swooning loveliness exploding into rage, you have everything that is musically and dramatically great about this work all summed up the closing duet of Act II.

If much of Act III can feel rather kitsch with its soft choruses and oriental dance music, there similarly should be an underlying suggestion of anguish and menace for the coming fate of Samson and Delilah. The costumes don't quite manage this, the Philistines dressing up in praise of Dagon as if for a Roman orgy, all in glittering dresses and togas, with gold laurel crowns, throwing money down from Delilah's balcony onto the revellers, the downtrodden Hebrew slaves and the tormented Samson. If it studiously goes out of its way to deny the audience the expected toppling of the marble pillars conclusion - one of the few scenes of dramatic action that there is in the opera - the self-immolation scene carried out with a repentant Delilah's compliance nonetheless delivers the kind of bang the opera needs to end on.

Not providing the expected famous pay-off is a bit of a risk and it's not as if it is for the sake of any additional edge or to make some concession to a contemporary reality, but in its own way probably Damiano Michieletto's middle-ground production does more or less find an equivalent level of where Saint-Saëns's Samson et Dalila lies. More importantly however the work is given its due where it really counts; in the music and singing performances. And with this kind of account of one of the highlights of French opera of the Belle Époque, the Paris opera make the case that those merits are not inconsiderable.

Links: L'Opéra de Paris, ARTE Concert

Mussorgsky - Khovanshchina (DNO, 2016 - Amsterdam)

Modest Mussorgsky - Khovanshchina

Dutch National Opera, 2016

Ingo Metzmacher, Christof Loy, Dmitry Ivaschenko, Maxim Aksenov, Kurt Streit, Gábor Bretz, Orlin Anastassov, Anita Rachvelishvili, Olga Savova, Andrei Popov, Svetlana Ignatovitch, Roger Smeets, Vasily Efimov, Morschi Franz, Vitali Rozynko, Sulkhan Jaiani, Richard Prada

Nationale Opera & Ballet, Amsterdam - 16 March 2016

With its complex view of Russian history and society, Khovanshchina must be one of the most overreachingly ambitious works of opera ever undertaken, the piece worked on by Mussorgsky for nine years before being left still in an unfinished state after the composer's death. Pulling the work together into something more coherent has been a challenge for other composers including Rimsky-Korsakov and Shostakovitch, but Khovanshchina is still an enormous challenge to stage. The Dutch National Opera's new production directed by Christof Loy bravely takes on the challenge, but almost inevitably it's not entirely successful.

There's a lot to get up on the stage in Khovanshchina, both physically and conceptually. Mussorgsky's great unfinished work is layered not only with the various political factions competing for power or even simply survival under the reign of the new ruler Peter the Great, but it also takes in the wider strata of society that is comprised of nobles, soldiers, religious factions and the common worker. All those various entities are further boiled down into the form of individual people with personal lives that are greatly affected by the uncertainty and the brutality of the times. It's a huge slice of Russian history up there on the stage in a fragmentary drama. No wonder Mussorgsky tried and failed to finish such a work.

It's no wonder too that Khovanshschina often fails on the stage. The recent Vienna production was heavily criticised for its static nature - this is a work that surely should be anything but static - but its vertical staging there did at least succeed in establishing the hierarchical nature of the Russian society and the attempts by each to climb its heights and end up falling low. Christof Loy's new production of the opera for the DNO similarly attempts to establish a construct that puts the work into context by connecting it to the present day, but in a work that already gives you a lot to take in, it's perhaps an unnecessary complication that doesn't really yield any greater insights into the Russia of the past or the present.

It wouldn't be the first time I haven't followed exactly what Loy is attempting to get across in his productions and yet have still been impressed at how he still gets the essence and full impact of the work across. The initial idea and inspiration behind the DNO's Khovanshchina is at least transparent, the curtain rising to reveal a tableau vivant of Vasily Surikov's 1881 painting 'Morning of the Streltsy's Execution', the epic scene of the painting reproduced in large scale behind the figures on the stage. One notable difference between the painting and the stage is the overturned cart and the dead white horse, both of which adorn the stage throughout most of the five acts. It's symbolism writ large, to which you can apply whatever meaning that comes to mind as you listen to the equally epic music that accompanies the unfolding horror of the events that lead up to the scene depicted in the painting.

Once the first act gets underway however we get the more familiar Christof Loy touches. The characters, or some of them at least, strip out of their period costumes and into modern-day suits. There remains a mix of period and modern dress that is evidently intended to draw a connection to how the past has influenced the present, but it's hard to see any direct link, particularly as there is enough to take in and remain focussed on just working out who the various historical factions are and where their allegiances lie. That actually is established fairly well, but whatever commentary is being made about the present regime, or whether there even is a direct commentary here, is less easy to discern.

More than just stripping off period historical baggage that might mean little to a modern audience, Loy's minimalism also serves to de-clutter the stage for those key scenes where Mussorgsky's epic drama has perhaps its greatest impact. Many of those scenes involve filling the stage for the huge choral pieces and crowd scenes that make such an impression and are such a vital part of a work that is about the Russian people, but Loy's quirky approach also achieves impact and results in other scenes of high drama such as the murder of Ivan Khovansky that precipitates the fall of the Streltsy. The dance of the Persian slaves for the Prince is performed by very young girls in shiny dresses (to the background of a glitter curtain) and it's superbly choreographed and performed, creating a suitably sinister environment even before Khovansky is stabbed by a little girl standing innocently alongside him.

Loy employs many such touches, large and small, including a marching brass band on the stage and, by no means least since he has a tremendous resource at his disposal, making good use of the chorus. This is my first live experience of the famous DNO chorus, although I have seen and heard them many times on DVD and on Dutch radio NTR4, and you couldn't ask for another work that would display their talents more fully than Khovanshchina. Their input was simply phenomenal. If it's hard to say that Loy succeeded in putting all of Russia on the stage, the chorus nonetheless contributed greatly towards it, and it helped also that there was also a cast of fine Russian principal singers in this production.

Among a consistently strong line-up, Anita Rachvelishvili was most impressive as Marfa and Dmitry Ivaschenko an authoritative Khovansky, but Kurt Streit also held his own among all those Russian voices with a fine performance as Prince Golitsin. Ingo Metzmacher conducted the orchestra through the Shostakovitch edition of the work, which might not have the same epic quality and refinement of the Rimsky-Korsakov's version, but in line with the production, the singing and the acting performances, the emphasis was on the importance of the individual human stories caught up in the vast scope of the historical period drama. On that level at least, this was certainly a successful account of the work.

Links: Nationale Opera & Ballet, NTR4 Radio Broadcast

Rimsky-Korsakov - The Tsar's Bride (Berlin 2013 - Webcast)

Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov - The Tsar's Bride

Staatsoper im Schiller Theater - Berlin, 2013

Daniel Barenboim, Dmitri Tcherniakov, Anatoli Kotscherga, Olga Peretyatko, Johannes Martin Kränzle, Tobias Schabel, Pavel Cernoch, Anita Rachvelishvili, Stephan Rügamer, Anna Tomowa-Sintow, Anna Lapkovskaja, Carola Höhn

ARTE Live Web Internet Streaming - October 2013

It was fairly evident from the Metropolitan Opera's recent revelatory production of Borodin's Prince Igor that director Dmitri Tcherniakov not only wants to introduce rarely performed Russian opera works to western audiences, but he also wants to make them fresh, modern and relevant in the transition. That view is confirmed by the Berlin Staatsoper's production of Rimsky-Korsakov's The Tsar's Bride (from October 2013), where it doesn't take too long for the facade showing a winter street scene from the period of Ivan the Terrible to fall and reveal a very different behind the scenes contemporary setting in a TV studio.

References to a Tsar are never going to fit comfortably into any modern production of Rimsky-Korsakov's The Tsar's Bride, least of all a Dmitri Tcherniakov one. The director's idea here then is to cast Tsar Ivan's oprichniks as television executives, exercising their control over the public and obedience to the government through the broadcast of propaganda messages. The so-called 'tsar' that they serve however is only a virtual creation mocked up on computer software, his on-screen appearances in the broadcasts put together with an actor and motion capture technology. This whole background scene-setting sequence - far from the original work - is played out as a series of projections and e-mail chats exchanged between Grigory Gryaznoy and his staff, searching for a suitable bride for their tsar.

It's a typical Tcherniakov setting then, one where the public face and the reality beneath the surface and behind the scenes is contrasted and compartmentalised. This is reflected in the stage designs of Act I which have the director's familiar divisions into separate rooms, one showing a green-screen backed television studio filled with cameras where the recordings are made under bright studio lights. This backs onto a production office where the broadcasts are monitored, and a third section presents a conference room for the oprichnik executives to make their policy decisions and carouse in revelry of their power. On a revolving stage, the ingenious design is allowed to flow freely from one scene to the next, retaining in the process the wonderful flow of Rimsky-Korsakov's score.

The more 'public' scenes of Act II, and the opening of Act III take place in the living room of the Sobakin's house which is depicted in the boxed-in style of Tcherniakov's Paris Opera Macbeth. Marfa and her family can be seen through large windows in a big room with a flatscreen TV. As well as bringing the broadcasts of the "tsar" to the public, it also proves to be a strong way to depict the jealousy of Lyubasha as she looks in on the happy household and her love rival. So while we don't have the any mysterious monks appearing wearing a black oprichnik cassock, the television broadcasts of the computer generated virtual Tsar have perhaps a more sinister and insidious aspect. As always with this director then, it doesn't always work on a strictly literal level, but the intentions and meaning come through well.

Whatever you make of the concept, there's no denying that the rich dramatic vitality of The Tsar's Bride is all there in the performances. Whether that's because of Tcherniakov's direction or despite his intervention is a matter of judgement, but certainly the musical strengths of Rimsky-Korsakov's score are in evidence in the rousing account of the work conducted under the baton of Daniel Barenboim. Reflecting the richness of the work, with romantic rivalry, fantasy elements and love potions, the raging passions are all played out in a typical bold Russian character with big declaimed arias and roaring choruses, and Barenboim directs it all brilliantly, in a production that is bursting with life and vigour.

It's a work then that demands equally passionate Russian singing, and there are few disappointments on that score. The real stand-out performance came surprisingly from Anita Rachvelishvili, who is really showing that she is by far and away strongest as a singer in the Russian repertoire. As Lyubasha, she has a showcase a capella song in Act I which she handles admirably, but there's depth of character and passion here as well. Her expression of jealousy of Marfa and anger at Gryaznoy's betrayal really holds the emotional heart of the work together and allows the viewer to sympathise with Lyubasha as she is driven to the extreme of plotting Marfa's downfall. That culminates in an outstanding and chilling expression of anger at her rival at the close of Act II.

Olga Peretyatko has a voice of marvellous depth and character, capable of tackling the most demanding of Rossinian coloratura heroines with no thinning of the voice across the range. In Russian opera, and in a role like Marfa, there is however an extra force and stamina required and Peretyatko's voice isn't quite right for it. Her timbre is so bright and beautiful however that it's still delightful to hear her sing such a role. Where it really comes into its own is in Marfa's final 'mad scene' of poison delirium, which has to be credible enough to move even Gryaznoy to repent, and it is. Even if he is not Russian, the German baritone Johannes Martin Kränzle sings like one, boldly declarative and passionate, bringing a measure of the kind of characterisation that is also required to make the role of Gryaznoy real.

The Berlin Staatsoper's production of The Tsar's Bride was recorded for broadcast in October 2013 and played for a limited time only on the German version of the ARTE Live Web/ARTE Concert web site. It's no longer available for on-line viewing.

Gluck - Orfeo ed Euridice

Christoph Willibald Gluck - Orfeo ed Euridice

Festival Castell de Peralada, 2011

Gordon Nikolić, Carlus Padrissa, La Fura dels Baus, Anita Rachvelishvili, Maite Alberola, Auxiliadora Toledano, Aline Vincent

Unitel Classica - C-Major

As an avant-garde experimental theatre group, continually expanding their techniques using the modern technology available, La Fura dels Baus don’t exactly do opera in a way that is respectful of tradition. With modern works that are less than respectful of the opera tradition itself - Weill’s anti-opera Rise and Fall of the City of Mahagonny or Ligeti’s anti-antiopera Le Grand Macabre - this can be a good thing, but it’s more questionable when applied to the works of reformist composers who had very specific ideas and theories about the nature of opera as drama. With the grand works of Wagner, on the Ring cycle and even with something like Tristan und Isolde, there is perhaps more scope for a more ambitious conceptual approach, but can the extravagant modern techniques and projections employed by La Fura dels Baus really be appropriate to a work as intimate and intentionally stripped-back to basics as Gluck’s Orfeo ed Euridice?

Orfeo ed Euridice was indeed the first of Gluck’s reformist works, but it would only really be in its later French incarnation Orphée et Eurydice (alongside the composer’s other important French operas Alceste and Iphigenie en Tauride), that many of the mannerisms of the Baroque opera seria were dropped. Gradually, Gluck’s works would forego the use of the harpsichord, ballet music, mechanical stage effects, recitativo secco, extravagant aria da capo singing or indeed any decorative effects that didn’t serve the progression and meaning of the drama alone, but some of these elements still remain in this first version of Orfeo et Euridice, the Vienna version from 1762. Still, it would seem to go against the spirit of a work that only has three principal roles - and the majority of it sung by only one person - to stage it as extravagantly, colourfully and spectacularly as it’s done here, using every technological tool available - projections, computer generated lighting effects, singers hanging from cables above the stage - as well as making every effort to fill the ample outdoor stage of the Castell de Peralada not only with chorus and supernumeraries, but even putting the orchestra up there on the stage as well. This surely wasn’t what Gluck intended.

Well, that depends on whether what is up there on the stage enhances the work or detracts from it, and while Carlus Padrissa goes a little overboard on special effects - he’s rather too fond of hanging singers above the stage from cables for my liking - it seems to me (as someone who holds this work in its varied incarnations in very high regard as one of the greatest works in all of opera) that everything works nonetheless in perfect accord with the music, the singing and the dramatic intent of the original work. There’s no reason why spectacle and dramatic purpose can’t co-exist. While Cupid might swing down a cable to a position above the stage then (a stunt-double is used while Auxiliadora Toledano sings off-stage), it can be seen as appropriate to elevate the messenger of the gods above the mortals below. Perching Orpheus on top of Eurydice’s stone monument could also be seen as being a little over-the-top, but the use of the same block as a tombstone to chart his descent into Hades and his ascent out of it with Eurydice, is also a relatively simple but highly effective image. It’s in the depiction of the dark fiery landscapes of Hades, the assembled masses of Furies, shades and spectres, the serene beauty of the Elysian fields and the visions of the Blessed Spirits however that the director’s vision most impressively rises to the challenges in the score with some inventive techniques, projections and lighting effects that work hand-in-hand with what the music and the drama are telling us.

The orchestra, dressed in unflattering skin-tight body suits sitting in small individual pits on a stage that is tilted towards the audience, play their part in this too. Their position leaves only a diagonal space for the funeral procession of Eurydice in Act I, which makes it look like Padrissa is simply just trying to just fill the stage and keep it visually interesting, but they also get up and move around, playing at the same time, during Act II’s descent of Orpheus into Hades. It may not be what Gluck had in mind exactly when he set about making music serve a purely dramatic function, but one could argue that the music of Orpheus does indeed have a function in fending off the Furies, and highlighting that element in visual terms is a valid technique. It is at least not just some random concept that distracts from the meaning, but is clearly one that comes from paying close intention to the drama itself, and seeking to find the best way of illustrating it. Much like Gluck did when composing the work 250 years ago, La Fura dels Baus’ production represents the same kind of modernisation of stuffy theatricality and musical academicism that the composer was reacting against, showing that opera is capable of being the most invigorating of theatrical experiences.

Whether Gluck’s score really needs all this spectacle, or whether it isn’t more than capable of being perfectly expressive in purely musical and more traditional dramatic terms, is of course debatable. I’d be less inclined to look favourably on this production if the spectacle detracted from the musical and singing performances, or if it was weak in those areas, but fortunately this is a superb account of the 1762 Orfeo ed Euridice. It’s not ideal of course to have the conductor Gordon Nikolić wandering about on the stage, leading as the first violin, and there are some minor lapses in timing when the singers don’t have visual contact with the pit, but for the most part the music, the singing and the drama all come together marvellously to pure dramatic effect to express the full power of this remarkable work. Considering the challenges then, the singers perform admirably. Anita Rachvelishvili carries the burden of the work as Orpheus well, correctly focussing on the delivery of the singing here - which isn’t always easy - and letting the score and the staging carry the dramatic intent and nuance. Maite Alberola is a powerful Eurydice, working well with Rachvelishvili dramatically and musically in their combination of voices. Auxiliadora Toledano has a wonderful brightness of tone that serves well in her role as Cupid and messenger from the Gods.

I’ve been critical of Carlus Padrissa in the past (notably for the misguided concept in the La Fura production of Berlioz’s Les Troyens), but it’s evident here from the scale that this Festival Castell de Peralada production of Orfeo ed Euridice is intended - as it should be - principally for the audience in the theatre. This presents some difficulties for the video director Tiziano Mancini, who is forced to resort to some extreme angle post-production on-stage shots, editing effects and cross-cutting, but by and large, it gets the full impact and the dynamism of the stage production across well on this Blu-ray release. The HD video transfer is superb - colourful and pinpoint clear, with good sound reproduction in PCM stereo and DTS HD-Master Audio 5.1. The BD is all-region playable, with subtitles in Italian, German, English, French, Spanish, Chinese and Korean.