Aucoin - Eurydice (New York, 2021)

Matthew Aucoin - Eurydice

The Metropolitan Opera, New York - 2021

Yannick Nézet-Séguin, Mary Zimmerman, Erin Morley, Joshua Hopkins, Jakub Józef Orliński, Barry Banks, Nathan Berg, Stacey Tappan, Ronnita Miller, Chad Shelton, Lianne Coble-Dispensa

The Met: Live in HD - 4th December 2021

The Met have got off to a good start this year as far as the Live in HD series goes. The rest of the season doesn't seem quite as ambitious but the choice of casts, new productions and interesting directors mean that there is something of interest in most of the remainder of the season. They have chosen well and made some brave choices in the support of new music, seeking to keep opera alive and forging new ground, as seen in the last livestream of Terence Blanchard's brilliant Fire Shut Up In my Bones. I was keen then to see what Matthew Aucoin could deliver, despite having no previous familiarity with his music and despite expecting it to be a little more conventional. That turns out to be true to some extent, but musically and dramatically Eurydice does nonetheless manage to expand on one of the classic works of ancient mythology most closely associated with opera.

The title suggests a feminist reworking of the Orpheus myth, but rather than taking a revisionist spin, Eurydice is actually more of an extension of the myth; a look at it from a different personal, human and modern perspective. Not unlike the extension of Purcell's Dido and Aeneas in Errollyn Wallen's Dido's Ghost, it manages to deepen an understanding of the issues the work touches upon, making it more relevant to contemporary concerns without undermining the essence of what makes it universal, timeless and meaningful. There are many questions that the traditional myth provokes and directions to explore - some more relevant than others perhaps, and not all of them need explained  - but certainly it helps to consider how Eurydice might have felt about it all.

There's not a great deal gained however by the rather banal happy opening scene of Orpheus and Eurydice on a beach. It's an engagement scene, Orpheus however slightly distracted and detached from it all by his art. It's probably necessary for setting context and to provide a little more light and shade (unlike the benchmark Gluck version that launches straight into a scene of grief and mourning). But more than just giving Eurydice a life as opposed to being dead throughout, this version also takes time to round out the character and nature of Orpheus as a man of considerable sensitivity, even if his way of expressing his love for Eurydice is a little awkward, reliant upon, distracted by and pretty much secondary to his devotion - an apparently much greater devotion - to music.

That isn't perhaps the whole story and Aucoin finds an interesting way of exploring this for a little more nuance, using a double for Orpheus. The use of doubles is not uncommon in opera productions where there are characters of great complexity with different facets to their personality, conflicts of personal life and duty, facets that are often revealed only in the music. In a stage production that's usually done using a silent mirror actor or a dancer, but here in Eurydice, Orpheus is written as two singing voices. One of the most complex characters of semi-divine nature, Orpheus surely merits such an approach, his duality represented here by a shadow countertenor Orpheus with wings. Described only as a double in the cast list, he could be seen to be Orpheus's ever-present muse, or just simply a personification of his musicality.

This role is however so well-written and performed that it opens up a whole range of other interpretations and possibilities. For me, it seemed that rather than appear detached and distracted by his thoughts constantly turning towards music, that music is rather an expression of his love and that the two really are inseparable. Indeed the warning is frequently made - by the three stones in the Underworld and by Hades himself - that Singing is not welcome in Hell. There can be no better expression of the capacity of music and opera to express the deepest workings and sentiments of the human heart, elevating them into something greater, so it is no surprise that Love - in its personification or expression of Orpheus's music - is banned in Hell. That is brilliantly realised here.

But the opera is called Eurydice and indeed Eurydice is still the principal figure in this opera. The rather banal happy scene on the beach out of the way, Sarah Ruhl's libretto - adapted from her own original play - delves a little deeper into the psychology of Eurydice. That doesn't necessarily need to be represented in any dull naturalistic manner either and there are various imaginative representations evoked in the situation developed by Ruhl. Hades himself tries to lure Eurydice to the Underworld on her wedding day, but although she suspects his motives, the delivery of a from her dead father in the Underworld has turned her thoughts to him. The idea of speaking to him and seeing him once again weakens her resolve and leaves her vulnerable.

As an opera about love, about grief, bereavement and about the unseemly and dangerous transgression of indulging in grief to the neglect of the living, Eurydice hits all the key points, but it deepens and extends those ideas, making them a little more upfront and present to an audience. It does this as I've suggested, in an imaginative way while still holding close to the outline of the original myth, and in a way that touches on a greater range of emotions. With certain surreal elements like three speaking stones and a room made of string (we are dealing after all with experiences outside of normal human experience), and with humour in places, it shares a similar sensibility in its use of imagery and symbolism with Strauss's Die Frau ohne Schatten.

Musically the shadow of Richard Strauss isn't far away either, particularly evident in the beautiful aria at the close of Act II, 'This is what it means to love an artist'. On a first listen, and not being at all familiar with this relatively young composer, Aucoin's music seems to occupy a space somewhere between Richard Strauss and Philip Glass. There was however a much greater variety of musical styles and references in the use of melodies, themes and rhythms. It doesn't draw attention to itself but with little showiness or reliance on sweeping romanticism it still manages to find an appropriate way to give expression to those deep sentiments, indeed without unseemly indulgence.

You could say the same about the singing. Erin Morley is exceptionally good as Eurydice. Aucoin has developed strong, beautifully lyrical writing for the voice, making it a demanding role for the range and stamina required to be present on stage almost throughout. I loved Barry Banks's performance and singing as Hades, which is likewise challenging, even higher than his usual light tenor range. We had beautifully complementary Orpheuses in Joshua Hopkins and Jakub Józef Orliński as the double/music and a grave sympathetic father in Nathan Berg. Really there was much to enjoy in very performance, including Big Stone, Little Stone and Loud Stone. Yannick Nézet-Séguin clearly relished working with a new and interesting score and it came across exceptionally well in the livestream cinema broadcast. 

First staged by LA Opera in 2020, Mary Zimmerman's production transfers over for the Met's fine decision to bring this worthy work to a wider audience. The sets presented an imaginative response to the situations devised by Ruhl, keeping the Underworld dark, enclosed and detached from everyday reality in a simple and effective way, enhancing it where necessary a little box insert or elevator raised from below the stage for side scenes and as a creative way to evoke the river of forgetfulness Lethe, critical to the tragic conclusion. With superb costume design, the musical, singing, dramatic and visual aspects of the production ensured that this was a thoroughly engaging and thoughtful account of a fine new opera work.

Links: Metropolitan Opera, The Met: Live in HD 2021-22 season

Strauss - Der Rosenkavalier (Vienna, 2015 - Webcast)

Richard Strauss - Der Rosenkavalier

Wiener Staatsoper, 2015

Adam Fischer, Otto Schenk, Martina Serafin, Wolfgang Bankl, Elīna Garanča, Erin Morley, Jochen Schmeckenbecher, Caroline Wenborne, Thomas Ebenstein, Ulrike Helzel

Wiener Staatsoper Live at Home - 12 April 2015
 
There are some things to be said for Otto Schenk's old, traditional, somewhat stuffy, period realistic production of Der Rosenkavalier. Not much admittedly, and it's perhaps unintentional, but Act I at least fully indulges Strauss and Hofmannsthal's qualified nostalgia for an idealised Vienna of the past, a way of life that is on the point of change and never to be regained. And since this production is being played in Vienna itself, that is likely to hold some measure of recognition with the home audience. So it's not a stylised Vienna either, but one that looks and realistically reflects how things might indeed have looked and, to an extent, operated in the olden days.

The Vienna seen in Act I of Der Rosenkavalier, in the bed chamber of the Feldmarschallin, is one where the privilege of nobility permits all manner of abuses. These are presented in a saucy farcical manner by Strauss and Hoffmannsthal - with reference evidently to the music and operetta of the time - but there is a little bit of an edge here that shows attitudes, morals, social gatherings, behaviours and manners that are rather hidebound and out of step with the world we live in today. It's a world that is already starting to change with the arrival of the merchant class of nouveaux riches, seen in the second act. Unintentionally then, Otto Schenk's frumpy, old-fashioned set does reflect a world clinging to a past that is in conflict with social changes.

Particularly in its attitudes towards women. Octavian, a young boy sung by a mezzo-soprano in a trouser role who is to be our optimistic hope for a new future, dresses as a maid in Act I and soon finds out what it's like to be on the receiving end of male attentions. The behaviour of Baron Ochs towards Mariandel is not surprising however, nor are the allusions to servants bearing illegitimate offspring of the nobility without those children having the same rights and privileges, but it's mostly played for laughs in the opera. What makes Der Rosenkavalier a little more pertinent however, is the attitute and contemplation of the situation of the Marschallin. 

Marschallin has enjoyed the privilege of having a prominent position in nobility, but she - "ordered into wedlock straight from the convent" - has never enjoyed the same kind of freedom that men of rank and position hold. Baron Ochs can chase her "maid" around the room, probably "get the money and the young girl" from a rich family that he is engaged to and boast of there being probably more than one other little bastard Lerchenau in the servant's quarters that he doesn't even know about. Marschallin however, as a woman, has to be very careful to hide her illicit although perhaps not entirely guilt-free (abusing her position as a wealthy and beautiful woman?) affair with her young cousin Octavian. "That's the way of the world".

But the Marschallin's contemplative melancholy goes beyond the inequalities in how the sexual behaviour of men and women is perceived. She also feels "the fragility of all temporal things" as only a woman can, and knows time is more cruel to women than to men. But more than just fearing the approach of old age and the diminishment of her charms, there's an awareness - its implications perhaps not entirely grasped - that the times are changing too. "Don't be like all other men!", she warns Octavian, even as she has the premonition that their time together is approaching an end, and that society will leave her kind behind just as Octavian will, sooner or later, leave her for Sophie. He must take advantage of these new opportunities and offer Sophie, and women as a whole, a different world from the one she has known.

All this is laid out in Act I, and there's not much Otto Schenk's production can do to take away from the beauty of what Strauss and Hofmannsthal have created here. It's a scene that carries resonance all the way through the longeurs of Act II and particularly Act III, right up until the moment that the Marschallin reappears and brings all the lovely melancholy of time and change with her once again. The production however has nothing much to contribute to any of this, Act II at the residence of the Faninals scarcely looking any brighter or more modern than Act I, Act III's dark interior of the inn looking exactly as you might expect a den of iniquity to appear, played plainly as a farce without any of the work's satirical tone.

The production values however are high, as you might expect, Octavian in particular cutting a fine figure against this backdrop in his period costume and wig. That's Elīna Garanča, looking terrific if not in the least bit manly, singing the role beautfully. She sings one of the best Octavians I've heard recently, but her movements, performance and delivery are a little stiff, not really seeming to engage with the production or as well with the other characters as you might like. And yet, the performances of each of the other singers Octavian plays off is also outstanding in his or her role. Martina Serafin is a perfect Marschallin, Wolfgang Bankl a well-characterised Ochs auf Lerchenau, but it's Erin Morley's Sophie who really gives the production that freshness and vitality that is unfortunately lacking elsewhere.

Der Rosenkavalier was broadcast from the Vienna State Opera as part of their Live at Home programme. The next broadcast is L'ITALIANA IN ALGERI on the 30th April. May sees Juan Diego Flórez in DON PASQUALE, Plácido Domingo in NABUCCO and the beginning of Sven-Eric Bechtolf's production of DER RING DES NIBELUNGEN, conducted by Simon Rattle. Details of how to view these productions live at home can be found in the links below.


Links: Wiener Staatsoper Live Streaming programme; Staatsoper Live at Home video

Verdi - Rigoletto (Wiener Staatsoper, 2014 - ORF2 TV)

Giuseppe Verdi - Rigoletto

Wiener Staatsoper, 2014

Myung-Whun Chung, Pierre Audi, Piotr Beczala, Simon Keenlyside, Paolo Rumetz, Erin Morley, Ryan Speedo Green, Elena Maximova, Donna Ellen, Sorin Coliban, Mihail Dogotari, James Kryshak, Marcus Pelz, Lydia Rathkolb, Hila Fahima

ORF2 TV - 20 December 2014

Rigoletto is a cruel little opera. It's hard to tell whether it's genuinely cynical about love and family or whether, as the title of Victor Hugo's original work 'Le roi s'amuse' suggests, it's critical of how the nobility run roughshod over the ordinary citizen in their pursuit of self-interest. What can probably be said with a little more certainty is that the author at least intentionally exploits the sentiment and poignancy of his characters by putting them through moments of intense cruelty just to heighten the melodrama to make readers and audiences gasp. Whatever the original intentions might have been, Verdi's in his first great masterpiece where he firmly makes his own personal mark of genius upon the rigid format of the traditional opera template, recognises the full value of each moment, each situation and each character, and plays one off against the other with incredible skill.

Verdi of course does this, and in doing so advances upon the number opera format, by composing Rigoletto as a series of duets that use the same opposition of lofty ideals with cruel reality. The Duke sees it all as fun while Monterone suffers the abuse of his authority; Rigoletto believes himself a wit who strikes with the word, but he's prepared to consider the more satisfying immediacy of Sparafucile's sword; Rigoletto tries to spare his daughter Gilda from the harsh reality of the world, and in so doing leaves her naivety to be exploited so cruelly by the 'vil razza dannata' whose bidding he serves. Even the Duke's idea of the deal that has been struck between himself and Sparafucile's 'sister' differs from the reality of their transaction, although even this is twisted away in turn from what Rigoletto believes to be the case. The outcome, fate, or the curse that afflicts them would seem to be particularly cruel in this respect towards those with the most to lose.

In itself however, Verdi's music has no moral outlook on the different views and expresses no cynicism towards the characters, or at least he treats each of them with equanimity. He gives Gilda a sensitive and heartfelt aria in 'Caro nome' - even as we know the true nature of her beloved - and views the Duke's nature in 'Questa o quella' and 'La donna è mobile' not from an objective outside view, but as the Duke sees himself, as a cheeky and loveable rogue. At the same time, Verdi recognises the dark side of the nature of man and that simmers in the background throughout the heightened conflict of ideals, building in each act of the opera, finding full expression at the conclusions of each of those acts, and each of those acts in turn further increasing the stakes upon the previous one. It's masterful composition.

As the opera's tone darkens however towards the pitch black Act III, it becomes harder to reconcile those opposing views that lean towards melodrama, but Verdi still does it. Gilda's sacrifice in Act III would make no sense where it not for Verdi's music having indicated and convinced the listener to her innocence, nobility and purity throughout. It's not so much that this naivety is exploited, as far as Verdi is concerned, for the sake of torrid melodrama, as much as it is necessary to believe in some kind of redemption in such a dark world. This makes all the difference, and it's what also makes Rigoletto greater as an opera in comparison to the unmitigated darkness of earlier works like I Due Foscari, where the humanity is buried too deeply in the bleakness of the situations and the fates of the characters.

A production of Rigoletto ideally has to find a similar balance if it is to match Verdi's intentions, although there's no reason why a director can't put emphasis elsewhere, should it suit the purposes of the production. Verdi's art is not so restrictive that it doesn't allow other interpretations to work and be fully expressed. Pierre Audi's production - not terribly well received at its December 2014 première in Vienna - doesn't make a big deal of the period or the location, but is rather very much about setting mood. A revolving stage depicts the Duke's palace in golden hues of faded and peeling glitter and Rigoletto's residence as grey and shabby place, which probably reflects the reality that underlies the character of the owners of these respective places. The space that lies between them is a barren area of broken trees, but the skull-like ramshackle construction of the inn also goes some way towards expressing the increasing intensity of Verdi's score in the third Act. 'I see hell itself' says Gilda at the inn, and this at least looks like it.

All of this gives an impression of a fairly sordid world, one where innocence couldn't possibly exist, and as such one in which Gilda's sacrifice is all the more starkly contrasted. An additional directorial touch shows Monterone being executed in the barren wasteland, making his curse - la maledizone - that is such an important theme in the work, all the more vivid and terrible to Rigoletto. Myung-Whun Chung's measured conducting of the work however doesn't gel all that well with the production design and the directing. He tends to work on a slower-paced build-up in the duets that takes much of the pace and ferocity out of them, but the marks are hit at all the critical junctures, most notably in Gilda's entrance to the inn during the storm. There is no lack of impact from either the staging or the pit at the conclusion, which suggests that everything up to getting there has been successfully put in place as well.

Principally in Rigoletto however, it's the voices that matter most in establishing individual character, and getting that right can make all the difference, particularly in how those roles play off one another in the duets. As essential as the Duke and Gilda are - and they are well performed here by Piotr Beczala's Pirates of the Caribbean-styled Duke and a determined knowing-her-own-mind Gilda in Erin Morley - Rigoletto is evidently central to nearly all those duets, his arrogance over the importance of his position as the Duke's fool, his fear of the curse and his over-protectiveness of Gilda preventing him from being able to stand up and make the necessary clear-headed decisions that are needed to survive in the ruthless court of the Duke. The Vienna production's Rigoletto was superbly cast in Simon Keenlyside to bring such characteristics out, but the première performance nonetheless ran into some unexpected problems.

Visibly unwell in the first act of the première Keenlyside's voice failed him and, according to reports, he was forced to withdraw following Act II's Cortigiani on the first night and was replaced by Paolo Rumetz for the remainder of the performance. Although this would have been broadcast live to TV and cinemas on the 20th Dec, the version I viewed on ORF's catch-up service on the 24th Dec showed Rumetz singing the whole of Act II and III. Keenlyside's Act I performance was retained however, without the footage of him breaking down in Act II, so presumably the complete Act II was inserted from the subsequent performance on the 23rd. Even though ill, there's enough here to see how different a performance this Rigoletto would have been with Keenlyside in the title role.

Act I shows a much more robust, distinctive performance, with Keenlyside's usual attention to character detail, expressing genuine feeling with an absence of the more 'operatic' mannerisms that can be found in Rumetz's version. On full form, Keenlyside's interaction with the cast in the remaining acts would undoubted have lifted this production significantly in how he plays off Beczala and Morley (reports have said as much about a blistering Act II duet with Gilda before his voice broke down). As it is, Rumetz is more than capable in the role, and considering the circumstances, even outstanding in taking over the role mid-performance. Only Elena Maximova seemed completely miscast and lost as Maddalena - strong enough as part of the quartet, but when singing solo her weakness in delivery and diction were very apparent. Keenlyside returned at the curtain call and was applauded, but despite the predictable booing in some sections for Audi's production team, this was a valiant effort that just unfortunately ran into some unavoidable problems.

Wagner - Götterdämmerung

Richard Wagner - Götterdämmerung

Metropolitan Opera, New York 2012

Fabio Luisi, Robert Lepage, Deborah Voigt, Wendy Bryn Harmer, Waltraud Meier, Jay Hunter Morris, Iain Paterson, Eric Owens, Hans-Peter König, Erin Morley, Jennifer Johnson Cano, Tamara Mumford, Maria Radner, Elizabeth Bishop, Heidi Melton

The Met: Live in HD, Feb 11th 2012

The evolution of the Metropolitan Opera’s Ring cycle has been gradual but noticeable through each of the four parts spread across its 2010/11 and 2011/12 seasons. Initially in the prologue, Das Rheingold, the spectacle of Robert Lepage’s Machine was clearly an impressive and revolutionary piece of stage technology, but its concept and purpose were not entirely proven. At the very least however, the opening section of the Met’s Ring cycle delighted with a stunning display of powerful singing. Neither the staging nor the singing were entirely consistent across Die Walküre nor Siegfried, but as James Levine’s illness forced him to gave way to Fabio Luisi on the conductor’s podium, a more equitable balance seemed to develop between the production and the performance that played to the strengths of Wagner’s masterwork, even if that meant a little less power in the vocal delivery. If Siegfried held out the promise that Lepage’s vision could end up being a memorable Ring production, that promise was satisfyingly achieved in its epic final evening. With Götterdämmerung, the Met’s Ring has come full circle.

Following on from Siegfried, Fabio Luisi again conducted a Wagner of Romantic sweep over the traditional heavy Germanic declamation, perhaps in favour of two leads who don’t have the full force that is usually demanded for the roles of Siegfried and Brünnhilde – Jay Hunter Morris and Deborah Voigt. The toning down of the dramatics and tone also worked fittingly with a subtlety in the stage design that belies the sheer weight and imposing presence of the Machine. Like Wagner’s score for Götterdämmerung, the underlying power of the tools at one’s disposal can be a temptation for overstatement, but it can be even more effective if that huge mass of force is suggested and used only sparingly. Clearly both Luisi and Lepage understand that. This is a Ring for the 2010s then, faithful to Wagner’s vision of the power of mythology and of the music drama as the highest expression of human artistic endeavour, taking it to a new level through the modern technology that is at the disposal of an imaginative director.

Lepage’s vision for the production didn’t appear to yield any grand conceptual theme other than how best to make Wagner’s daunting and problematic series of operas work in a modern context without all its accumulated history and tradition. Particularly in the earlier parts, the morphing planks and projections worked mainly on a literal basis to create the imposing presence of Valhalla, an impenetrable forest or a mountain cave housing a dragon, but as the cycle progressed, the emphasis shifted more towards the abstract conceptual. The polymorphous nature of the technology was still well-employed to give solidity to the physicality of the story – the riverside playground of the Rhinemaidens for example actually looking more realistic here than how it was projected during Das Rheingold – but the colours, lighting and abstract patterns elsewhere in Götterdämmerung seemed to be more attuned to mood.

It may seem like making excuses for slightly underpowered performances, but it was actually refreshing to find a Siegfried and a Brünnhilde playing not as mythical god-like figures, but as the human characters they essentially and necessarily are. No excuses however need to be made, even for the fact that both Jay Hunter Morris and Deborah Voigt were taking on enormous challenges way beyond anything they have ever done in their careers; on their own terms their performances were exceptionally good and fitting for the production. The chemistry that seemed to be there between them at the end of Siegfried didn’t extend however through to the first act of Götterdämmerung, both seeming a little overwhelmed, the lack of lower depth in both their voices even more noticeable when combined. Voigt however raised her game when paired with the formidable and experienced Wagernian mezzo-soprano Waltraud Meier as Brünnhilde’s sister Valkyrie, Waltraude. Their sequence together was simply magnificent. For his part Morris won through from sheer determination and stamina in a severely testing role that demands a concentrated effort for six hours, but he also had a down-to-earth personality and charm that made the final scenes of the opera intimate and touching as well as being epically apocalyptic.

If there were any misgivings about the appropriate Wagnerian tenor of the main roles not quite matching the earlier powerhouse performances of the likes of Bryn Terfel, Stephanie Blythe, Eric Owens and Jonas Kaufmann, there was again magnificent support here not only from Waltraud Meier, but Wendy Bryn Harmer proved to be a fine Gutrune, Hans-Peter König a formidable Hagen – blankly sinister in acting, but deeply menacing in tone of voice – and there was another impressive turn from Eric Owens who made the brief reappearance of Alberich more than memorable, particularly as his character is a vital link (and leitmotif) that sustains the overarching development and tone of the entire work. Only Iain Paterson failed to make his presence felt either as Gunther, but his weak-willed character was at least dramatically appropriate and fitting, and certainly not a weak element.

I can’t say what the experience would have been like in the theatre, but there was no evidence during the HD-Live broadcast of any noise from the stage equipment, or indeed any of the problematic breakdowns that have been the cause of complaints in some quarters. Everything on the stage flowed smoothly and impressively. On the big screen, Götterdämmerung was as grandly spectacular and as intimately moving as it ought to be, perfectly attuned to the score and the performances. The camerawork – directed a strong visual flair as usual by Gary Halvorson – was also well-judged to pick out the strengths in the performances and the production design, working with it, flowing with the mood of the piece. Although there are a few Ring productions still to come this year and next (the Munich one in particular should be interesting), when eventually viewed together as a full Ring cycle (it will be interesting to see if the first two are revised slightly to suit Luisi’s approach to the work) I think the full impact and consistency of this Met Ring will be better appreciated and it may even be regarded as one of the best of recent times.