Gioachino Rossini - Semiramide
L’Opéra national de Lorraine, Nancy - 2017
Domingo Hindoyan, Nicola Raab, Salome Jicia, Franco Fagioli, Matthew Grills, Nahuel Di Pierro, Fabrizio Beggi, Inna Jeskova, Ju In Yoon
Culturebox - 11 May 2017
What a difference a voice makes. If you've watched more than one production of any opera, you'll already know that's a self-evident truth, but it isn't often you get the opportunity to compare two different productions of Rossini's Semiramide in close succession to see how it applies. Even a single viewing however is enough to realise why the work isn't put on too often; if you haven't got a singer of the calibre of Joyce DiDonato to sing the role of the Babylonian Queen - as in the recent Bayerische Staatsoper production - there's always the danger of Rossini's opera seria falling completely flat. The Opéra National de Lorraine however have some other ideas of their own about how to stage this difficult work.
The production of Semiramide at Nancy does indeed show what a difference a voice makes, but surprisingly, it's not where you might think. The Opéra National de Lorraine production actually has a very capable mezzo-soprano in the shape of Salome Jicia, who proves to be quite impressive in the role even if she doesn't have the extra spark that is needed to truly bring this work to life. The stage design and the direction in this production don't really have a great deal to contribute either in that respect, and it's doubtful that the production would have the necessary impact but for its casting of another role. Where this production takes its chances in its staging of Semiramide is in the casting of a countertenor for the role of Arsace: and obviously not just any countertenor, but Franco Fagioli.
Countertenors and contraltos or mezzo-sopranos can be interchangeable of course in many other works, but those are usually older baroque works where a female takes on the role originally written for a castrato, which for obvious reasons are no longer available to an opera house. In the case of Semiramide, the role of Arsace is a trouser role written for a contralto, so it is certainly rare and unusual (in a work that itself is rarely performed) to transpose the role over to a countertenor. The rationale for this I can only guess - perhaps Franco Fagioli was looking to extend his range into later repertoire? - but the results are fascinating and do change the whole dynamic and adjust the emphasis on where the heart of the work lies.
Whether it was done to find a new challenge for Fagioli or whether it was done purely for reasons of meeting the vocal requirements (superstar contraltos are thinner on the ground these days than countertenors I suspect), Fagioli does indeed make quite an impression. The Bayerische Arsace wasn't lacking the necessary qualities with Daniela Barcellona in the role, but with Franco Fagioli you have star quality and a voice that proves to be far more flexible to meet the very distinctive tessitura of the role. Fagioli is better placed to meet the considerable demands on the lower end of the register as well as navigating those tricky fluttering Rossinian sprints. His delivery of Arsace's arias is utterly rivetting to behold, his voice blending beautifully with the arrangements and in the Act II duets with Salome Jicia's Semiramide. The true effectiveness of his performance however is in how Arsace's role comes to dominate the proceedings.
The challenges of performing Semiramide convincingly go beyond merely being a star turn for the best singers of the day - although on that level alone it has to be admitted that it is a joy to hear performed as well as it is here. With Semiramide, Rossini was moving away from a style of opera that still had its roots in the baroque opera seria, and was developing into the form of Grand Opéra, so there are specific dramatic and theatrical requirements or conventions that are expected to be met in one way or another. Spectacle and entertainment are another factor, and on this level the Nancy production doesn't deliver quite as inventively as David Alden's recent Munich production.
The production doesn't set the opera in ancient Babylon but seems to settle for a period closer to the time of composition of the opera with - as a French opera production - an eye perhaps on the intrigue and downfall of the French royal court. It also establishes something of the play-within-a-play setting or semi-staged dress rehearsal for no particular reason that can be easily determined. A smaller stage is positioned to one side of the stage, with a rope pulley system and its own curtain. lowering Egyptian pillars with hieroglyphs as the queen acts out her declamations and announcements. The intrigues of Assur, Oroe and Idreno are carried out in the wings and develop on the stage, with a large mirror used to highlight when the characters reflect on what they see in front of them in the mirror and how it measures up to the image they have of themselves.
The direction of the acting is at least a little more naturalistic, leading to convincing characterisation without the old-fashioned operatic mannerisms that a work like Semiramide might attract. The musical arrangements under Domingo Hindoyan, a graduate of the Venezuelan musical education programme El Sistema, are a little bloodless, but it's hard to fault the performance for accuracy and pacing. Aside from the two main leads, the production also benefits from an excellent Assur in Nahuel Di Pierro. His voice carries force and authority, the singing clear and commanding, making Assur feel like a proper villain and not a caricature of one. The other roles are also very well sung and played with Fabrizio Beggi's Oroe seeming to be the manipulator here in a dual role that takes up the part of the Ghost of Nino. Matthew Grills also makes a good impression as Idreno, and Azema is sung well by Inna Jeskova although her role in the drama seems reduced here.
Links: L’Opéra national de Lorraine, Culturebox
Sergei Rachmaninoff - Francesca da Rimini
L'Opéra National de Lorraine, Nancy - 2015
Rani Calderon, Silviu Purcărete, Igor Gnidii, Suren Maksutov, Alexander Vinogradov, Gelena Gaskarova, Evgeny Liberman
Culturebox - 15 February 2015
Francesca da Rimini was composed over a decade after Rachmaninoff's first one-act opera Aleko, but although the composer's approach to opera changed during that period, it still remains more of a lyric-drama than a work driven by narrative or dialogue. Called a 'symphonic opera' by the composer himself, Francesca da Rimini is still very much a mood-oriented piece then, and adapted from an episode from Dante's Inferno, it's very different from the Zandonai opera of the same name based on Gabriele D'Annunzio's play.
Almost a third of the length of the whole work is filled with an extended mood-setting symphonic introduction of low notes and lamenting choruses with only a few lines of singing. The dialogue here too is only to set the scene, Dante led by the ghost of Virgil into the Second Circle of Hell, a place reserved for those who have let lust override reason, whose passion has led them to deceit and murder. Among the souls twisting and writhing in infinite agony are Paolo Malatesta and Francesca da Rimini, both murdered by Lancelotto, brother of Paolo, husband of Francesca, after being betrayed by both of them.
Depicting Hell is a challenge as much for the stage director as the composer, but it's one that Silviu Purcărete does just as well as Rachmaninoff. Whether the story of Francesca da Rimini is told in flashback or is actually played out for eternity in Hell, Rachmaninoff's approach is (in contrast to Zandonai) clearly to emphasise the horror rather than the romance, and Purcãrete works according to what can be heard in the highly descriptive and evocative music. There in the Second Circle of Hell, black-robed monk-like figures with full-length skeletons draped over their backs writhe and swirl to the rumbling, crashing percussion and the swirling music score.
Out of the number of the condemned appear Paolo Malatesta and Francesca da Rimini, both clutching their own skeletons. Following the opening scene setting, and continuing with a distinct structure of its own, the second part of Rachmaninoff's symphonic opera features an extended monologue by Lancelotto Malatesta who bitterly recounts how he came to murder his wife and brother, correcting the wrong that had been done by both of them. In this monologue we get all the familiar backstory of Francesca's mistake, falling for Paolo's beauty and her shock at the realisation that it is Lancelotto, the deformed Malatesta brother, who is the man she is meant to marry.
The third part of the opera then depicts Francesco and Paolo's downfall, which we already know is going to be duet of death. If you weren't familiar with the story, the music alone would be enough to tell you of the likely outcome, but the sense of menace is further heightened by Paolo's account of the tale of Lancelot and Guinevere to Francesca in Modest Tchaikovsky's libretto. Silviu Purcãrete's direction, taking place in Hell, with skeletons looking on from the surrounding darkness is strikingly effective in this respect too. The romantic tension as Francesca attempts to resists the attraction she feels and her inability to resist Paolo's advances has a distinctly menacing edge then that is further enhanced in this strong production design.
Another reason why you might be forewarned of the outcome comes though the work's usual presentation alongside Rachmaninoff's earlier one-act opera Aleko. The themes are closely related - an unfaithful wife who takes a lover and is killed when the jealous husband discovers the infidelity. Inevitably, a director can make connections between the two works when they are performed together, particularly when the wife and the jealous husband are sung by the same soprano and baritone. That works well here, Alexander Vinogradov strong in both roles as Aleko/Lancelotto, although as with her Zemfira, Francesca is a testing role for Gelena Gaskarova.
Less effective are the direct visual links that the director uses to connect the two works. The hints are there earlier on, Gelena Gaskarova seen initially in the same modern dress as Zemfira, transforming into period costume as Francesca. It works to remind the viewer that the story is an age-old one, that relations between man and woman were ever thus (ensuring a steady stream of penitents in the Second Circle of Hell). Less necessary is the dancing bear (or man in the bear suit) from this production's Aleko (quite what sin of Lust he has committed to end up there is a mystery), and it's not a great surprise to see Aleko's car crash in to this realm at the end as well. The consistency of the approach to the musical performances by conductor Rani Calderon is matched however by Silviu Purcărete's striking visual representation, making this a fine production of these two rarely performed works.
Links: Culturebox, L'Opéra National de Lorraine
Sergei Rachmaninoff - Aleko
L'Opéra National de Lorraine, Nancy - 2015
Rani Calderon, Silviu Purcărete, Alexander Vinogradov, Suren Maksutov, Miklos Sebestyen, Gelena Gaskarova, Svetlana Lifar
Culturebox - 15 February 2015
Rachmaninoff composed three one-act operas, but it's rare to see any of them performed. The character of the works don't really make them suitable to pair with any other work than another Rachmaninoff, but the specific requirements of Russian singing means that even that occasion is rare when there are few enough Russian works in the popular repertoire. Rachmaninoff's operas are not in the same league as those of Tchaikovsky, Rimsky-Korsakov, Mussorgsky, Borodin or Glinka that are already largely neglected, so it's a delight then to have the opportunity to see two of the three Rachmaninoff's performed fully-staged at the Opéra National de Lorraine in Nancy.
But for the singing demands that have nothing in common with verismo opera, Aleko would fit thematically very well in a double-bill alongside Puccini's Il Tabarro, Leoncavallo's I Pagliacci or Mascagni's Cavalleria Rusticana. Based on a dramatic poem by Pushkin, 'The Gypsies', Aleko is a compact and intense little drama, filled with local colour, dark undercurrents and sudden violence. Rachmaninoff's music captures all that colour wonderfully, reminiscent of Tchaikovsky (Eugene Onegin in particular in those moments of nostalgic reminiscence), but softer and more soulful, less coolly calculated, with some elements of folk music.
The folk music is immediately apparent, used to set the gypsy colour of the work. Played around a campfire by musicians, the music evokes the past for one old man, the father of Zemfira, bringing back memories of his short-lived marriage to Mariula. At a similar camp on a night like this, Mariula took off with another band of gypsies camped nearby, leaving him and their daughter without a word. Zemfira has now grown up and is married to Aleko, but the marriage is in trouble, Zemfira secretly seeing her lover behind Aleko's back. Listening to the music and the old man's story, the jealous Aleko talks darkly about vengeance. Gypsies and jealous lovers, you can take a stab at how this one is going to end...
While the campfire music stirs up echoes of the past for the old man and anger in Aleko, the remainder of the camp - here a group of circus performers - celebrate youth, freedom and dance. In Silviu Purcărete's colourful setting - created in 2013 for the Teatro Colon in Buenos Aires alongside Francesca da Rimini - there's a dancing bear, clowns and acrobats, all working with the glorious beauty of Rachmaninoff's melodious and evocative scoring for a variety of moods. As far as dramatic underpinning goes for an opera, there's little that suggests situation or incident, certainly none of the underlying menace that you might find in the comparable situations in those aforementioned examples of one-act verismo opera.
Structurally however, Aleko is a compact and beautifully balanced little one-act work, giving each of its principals their moment in the spotlight. The arias are very much reflective monologues, not much that moves the action forward, but that's very much the nature of the piece. When you have strong Russian voices behind them, as in the case of Alexander Vinogradov's Aleko, and the deep lyrical bass of Miklos Sebestyen's Old Man, the real Russian folk character of the work and the writing comes though. Less secure in delivery, Gelena Gaskarova's Zemfira and Suren Maksutov as her lover do however also bring about the dramatic incident well.
Presented at the Opéra National de Lorraine alongside Rachmaninov's Francesca da Rimini, this is a real treat to hear and see these works performed so well, fully-staged and with authentic Russian character. Both are available to view on-line through the links below. There's another chance to see both works in different new productions this summer at La Monnaie in Brussels, in a Rachmaninov Trioka that includes his third one-act opera Skupoj Pytsar (The Miserly Knight).
Links: Culturebox, L'Opéra National de Lorraine
Leonardo Vinci - Artaserse
Opéra National de Lorraine, Nancy 2012
Diego Fasolis, Silviu Purcărete, Philippe Jaroussky, Franco Fagioli, Max Emanuel Cencic, Valer Barna-Sabadus, Yuriy Mynenko, Juan Sancho
Erato - DVD
There are good reasons why you probably don't often come across productions of Leonardo Vinci's Artaserse. Written in 1730, there are the usual musical questions to resolve in how to approach old music played on period instruments as well as the challenges in how to present and stage a rare piece in a way that gets the full impact of the work across. Vinci's Artaserse however is even more rarely performed since it requires no less than five countertenors to sing the extravagantly arranged castrato roles of the work. And not just any five countertenors (although it's not as if there are that many to pick and choose from), but you really need five of the best in the world to be able to do any kind of justice to this particular work.
Which is exactly what makes the Opéra National de Lorraine's 2012 production of Vinci's Artaserse such a unique and thrilling experience. Musically, it's in the hands of Diego Fasolis and the Concerto Köln, while the casting brings together the extraordinary cast of countertenors Philippe Jaroussky, Franco Fagioli, Max Emanuel Cencic, Valer Barna-Sabadus and Yuriy Mynenko, with the addition of tenor Juan Sancho in the work's only other singing role. It's such a rare gathering that this team toured the opera around France and Europe in concert performances, even making dates in the UK, but this performance recorded here at Nancy offers the opportunity to see the work in a full theatrical staging, and it really is something else.
The direction by Silviu Purcărete plays on what is undoubtedly the unique selling point of this version of Artaserse as being possibly the greatest showcase for the divas of early opera, the castrato. With its extravagant costumes and five lighted theatre make-up mirrors placed to the sides of the stage, there's a lot of preening and posing on the part of all the leads, but there's more to this than just showmanship. It's always a challenge to make a Baroque opera lively and visually engaging, and this one does it by representing its extravagance and its heightened theatrical qualities. Naturalism is not an important factor here.
And nor should it be in a work based on a Metastasio libretto. Artaserse is a typical work of the poet, based around a ruler who has to do the right thing and put aside or reconcile his own feelings in relation to various dilemmas over love and duty. It's a work that has been adapted many times, but depending on whose version you listen to and who is adapting it, it can still be fairly dry material by today's standards. The music in Vinci's Artaserse is exquisite - and it's marvellously played here Diego Fasolis conducting the Concerto Köln from harpsichord - but perhaps not so much that it stands out from other settings of the work or indeed other opera seria works like it. What makes Vinci's version extraordinary is indeed its setting for five countertenors. That is what is so impressive about it, and when it has singers of sufficient calibre, it raises the work to another level entirely.
Despite the best efforts of the production team and singers here - and truly it's hard to imagine a better line-up - it can still be a struggle to engage the audience in the drama of Artaserse. It's certainly not a fault of the production, which achieves a good balance between simple theatricality and visual extravagance in the costumes. A simple revolving platform even saves the performers having to move around much, leaving them free to express the drama and emotional turmoil principally through the singing. There's recognition then that it's the singers and the singing that you're here to see, and that seems to be more than sufficient in this case.
The arias and ariosos are not long-winded or overly ornamented, but they are demanding nonetheless and really require virtuoso control. Each role moreover clearly has been composed for a specific type of countertenor voice. Whether the singers here have been cast in the right voice in musicological terms I couldn't say, but they seem perfectly fitted here for the roles they are in. Admittedly, it can be difficult to distinguish who is who with all the outlandish costume changes, wigs and face-paint - to say nothing of the difficulty of determining role gender - but every single countertenor voice here has their own unique sound and character, and each are outstanding within the role they play.
Some evidently have more demanding parts than others because of the emotional turmoil they undergo. Arbace has arguably the most traumatic dilemma, consumed with guilt over the fact that his father Artebano has killed the king, Serse. Accused of the murder himself, he's prepared to suffer the consequences in silence, without condemning the real culprit, and Franco Fagioli is outstanding in how he plays out this inner turmoil. It's Philippe Jaroussky as Artaserse however who has to balance the sense of friendship and fairness in dealing out justice with the shock of his father's violent death, knowing that much lies in the balance. The romantic complications of Semira and her conflicted sentiments would seem less important, but Valer Barna-Sabadus' astonishing delivery will convince you otherwise.
This is where the real quality of Metastasio's libretto shows, giving each characters the opportunity to express their sentiments in such a way that the listener is swayed between them and sympathetic to their plight. If you've the right singer in those parts, the effect is even more pronounced, and that's the case here with Max Emanuel Cencic's Mandane, with Yuriy Mynenko's Megabise and even with Juan Sancho's Artebano. Every role is superbly cast and exquisitely sung.
The theatricality of the staging is emphasised by the manner in which this performance is recorded. Aside from the dressing-room mirrors at the side of the stage, the camera occasionally follows character exits backstage, or shows them preparing for their entrance, adjusting costumes behind screens that are being wheeled across the stage by stage-hands. Some might find this distracting, but as I said, naturalism isn't really what Artaserse is about, and there's no attempt by the stage director to make it period or authentic either, so this just extends this concept further. Visually and conceptually however, it holds attention, and that's what is important in presenting Baroque opera.
In the absence of a Blu-ray release, the Erato DVD presents the work relatively well if all you are interested in are the basics of the performance. In terms of technical specifications however it's well below the standard of what is more commonly offered for opera on Blu-ray releases. The image quality is clear and stable, perfectly fine for Standard Definition with the performance spread across 2xDVD-9 discs. The audio mixes are LPCM Stereo and Dolby Digital 5.1 in 48kHz/16-bit, the sound clear and bright with natural stage echo preferred over pristine clarity. The DVD is region-free, the subtitles English, French, German and Italian. And that's about the best you can say about this release. There are no extra features, there's no booklet, there's no synopsis - nothing. For such a rare work as this, staged so well and unlikely to be revisited anytime soon, that's very disappointing.
