Otello with Bergonzi - a sad event indeed.

Carnegie Hall

Wednesday 3rd May 2000

A sad event indeed. Carlo Bergonzi's late return to the stage as the Moor in Otello was unedifying. This may be the first serious error of judgement for the wonderful Eve Queller whose 'risk taking' is legendary as leader of the Opera Orchestra of New York.

Having sung pitiably in Acts I and II, which were run together, the 75 year old hopeful retired 'indisposed'. Bergonzi's voice had some pleasant middle register notes but highs and lows were not comfortable and in some cases completely inaudible. The 'Esultate ..' was flawed only because he chose to sing the final ornament which simply did not come off. Another high note cracked in the next scene while one long, held high note was almost a whole semi-tone flat. Several notes in 'Ora e per sempre addio..' were then simply sung an octave lower to avoid the high parts. As if using a 'crystal set', he clutched his left ear before each high note or phrase, only then to sing most of them quite flat. It was undignified and painful.

After an over-long intermission, Carlo Bergonzi was replaced by Antonio Barasorda who sang beautifully. He clearly knew the part, casting aside the music stand and just delivering Otello as the part should be sung. He had apparently sung in Tosca, Carmen and Turandot at the City Opera in the early 1990s according to a local I spoke to.

Kallen Esperian as Desdemona was simply impeccable. Her performance was stylish and graceful. Iago was to have been Leo Nucci but Alberto Gazale sang at short notice in his absence, singing well and possibly receiving the biggest ovation. Jianyi Zhang was also a fine Cassio. The supporting singers, chorus, children and orchestra were all 'first class'.

The orchestra played well and there were several innovations with the trumpets marking the return of the messenger from Venice played from the auditorium, left, right and rear. The rustic villagers' and children's chorus in honour of Desdemona was played to the accompaniment of 3 'strummed strings': a guitar and two other banjo or ukulele-type instruments.

But the night was auspicious in several other respects. All three of the 'three tenors' appeared for the event and occupied a box. Domingo had sung Sigmund the night before. They were all rehearsing a Met Gala of one act each from Carmen, Andrea Chenier and Turandot. Pavarotti sat at the back, chatting didactically to Carreras during the long intermission. After the announcement before act 3, they all left but Domingo returned to join his partner in their original seats. I was told that Licia Albanese, Aprile Millo, Anna Moffo and Lucine Amara were also in the audience.

I would commend this attempt, but suggest that the ends of careers often coincide with the beginnings of others. There will probably be more pluses than minuses from the night's debacle.

Comments by Andrew Byrne ..

La Clemenza di Tito at the NYCO - a magnificent evening in every respect

New York City Opera

Sat 15th April 2000

Role	Artist
Tito	Mark A. Thomsen
Sesto	Lorraine Hunt Lieberson
Vitellia	Marie Plette
Publio	Jake Gardner
Servilia	Tracy Dahl
Annio	Laura Tucker

La Clemenza di Tito at the NYCO was a magnificent evening in every respect. The voices and orchestra did the piece justice, while the production was at once sympathetic and æsthetic.

The set was a typical fenestrated Roman red-brick wall 'ruin' as back-drop with a full-width raised walkway behind a well trodden lawn and prominent paved podium. The costumes and (very) few props were European 18th century.

How Titus got his reputation for mercy is a mystery. He reigned for only 2 years and was previously notorious for his cruelty in the war with the Jews, killing up to 500 hostages every day in the siege of Jerusalem, according to Christopher Jones in the program notes. His reign also saw the eruption of Vesuvius (hardly of his doing!) and a huge fire on the Capitol destroyed the Temple of Jupiter and other major buildings. There was also a major plague in Rome - from which Titus himself also succumbed.

It is said that Domitian, his younger brother and successor, was so despised during his 15 year reign that memories of ANY previous emperor would have been held fonder. Needless to say, Jewish historians was not as kind to Titus, having destroyed the Second Temple.

'La Clemenza' has a surfeit of soprano voices with both Sesto and Annio being written for castrati. Titus is a challenging, high tenor role. It has more demands and fewer rewards than Don Ottavio, for instance. For other male voices, there is only one aria and short concerted pieces for Publio, the sole baritone.

From its short introductory piece to its amazing and rhythmic ending this opera is full of innovation. I once disliked opera seria, but now I hear things that make me believe that Wagner, Rossini and others took cues from this consummate example. Although Clemenza has fallen from an early favour with the public, it clearly brought some new blood to the composers who followed. It is as though Mozart knew he would soon be dead within months and 'more of the same' would simply not do.

Listen to the woodwinds! Hear the 'syncopation' effect of the last moments of the opera. Marvel at the what might be the orchestral precursors of the Rossinian patters. Listen to the range of voice required for the rôles. Despite a generally low tessitura, Vitellia has notes up to a D. Witness the staggering dramatic effects of frustration, indecision and conflicts of love, friendship and duty which are so reflected in the music.

But I digress. People know 'Parto, parto ..' and the first act duet but this opera is full of other melodies to take home, some being very complex and 'long line', the more so in Act II. This may have allowed Bellini and Rossini to make the melodic innovations they did.

Marie Plette sang a suitably schizophrenic Vitellia and Sesto was played with panache by Lorraine Hunt Lieberson. Mark Thomsen was a commanding emperor, if imperfect vocally. Tracy Dahl and Laura Tucker also sang well. Jake Gardner as Publio was also good, but he just did not have enough music to sing.

The orchestra was small as befits the period, with the benefit (one assumes) of the newly installed State Theater "enhancement" (is it amplification?) which was not obtrusive to my ear. In place of a harpsichord there appeared to be a grand piano. The volume was more than adequate with sympathetic tempi from mæstro Harry Bicket.

There was then the biggest ovation I have heard in NYC for quite some time with repeated bravos and even standing ovations from some. Remarkable too, was the appearance in the curtain calls of a production representative (was it Stephen Wadsworth the director?). I have never seen this done before at the END of a season!

comments by Andrew Byrne ..

PS - after I posted a shortened version of this 'review' on a popular internet list to my surprise, I received by reply the following note from the director: "Hi there Dr. Byrne, City Opera passed on your internet report of LA CLEMENZA DI TITO to me last night, and I thought I'd let you know that yes, indeed, that WAS Stephen Wadsworth who took a bow with the company. And we are glad you enjoyed it. Best, Stephen Wadsworth"

Idomeneo, an opera seria by WA Mozart

Sydney Opera House

Fri 11 Feb 2000

Dear Colleagues,

I have a confession to make. I walked out at half time. Yes, despite a competent orchestra, a world-class conductor (Christopher Hogwood), a world famous opera which does not need my approval (Idomeneo), excellent principal roles and a 'lovely' traditional production, I just had to go.

The audience included Joan Sutherland (a one-time Elettra), Richard Bonynge, their fine friend Chester, Bronwyn Bishop our minister for the Queen's Navy, Donald McDonald, Olympics festival organizer, Adrian Colette, opera general manager as well as a coterie of hangers-on. But I could not bear another minute.

It started at 7pm and was diabolical. Even with a large papered audience it was still 3/4 full on a Friday night which not a good sign for the budget. I sat next to a young English tourist for whom it was his first exposure to opera. He may never return to the opera house so long and 'difficult' was the night. What a pity he could not see the beautiful Pearlfishers for which there were no seats to be had this week.

I used to classify Idomeneo with Clemenza di Tito but they are chalk and chinoiserie. One is Mozart's debt to the past and the other is his gift to the future. And I am the first to admit that my patience ends at archaeology. Those who stayed for the rest of the performance deserved everything they got (and I am sure it was fine).

[Outside the theatre tonight was the opening salvo of the Sydney Mardi Gras, held on the steps of the opera house, quite a contrast to what was going on within. A free drag show, à la belle étoile!]

At least in act one, I can report that Deborah Riedel sang Elettra well, as did Emma Matthews and Kirsti Harms as Ilia and Idamante. John Mark Ainsley was an elegant Idomeneo. Jaewoo Kim sang Arbace with conviction. The chorus, Trojans and Cretans, were excellent, yet the night did not catch on for me so I hastened to our local Italian restaurant for consolation and sustenance.

By 9.30pm I was enjoying a bowl of sweet potato gnocchi with chicken and Gorgonzola washed down with a fine Vernaccia in Victoria Street.

By the way, I heard the Pearlfishers again this week and American tenor David Miller again sang and acted to the highest calibre. He made an intriguing change at the very end of 'Je crois ententre' in which he left out the final highest phrase, replacing it with one single legato note which seemed to go on to eternity. He must not have felt confident with the written notes, although his opening night had been flawless. It must be one of the most difficult arias ever written for the tenor voice. This ending was in no way inferior and it was just one change in a tighter and more held-together performance of this rarely heard opera.

Is my prejudice (or petticoat) showing? See you at the Met Ring in April.

Comments by Andrew Byrne ..

Met Lucia in the original key plays to empty seats.

Lucia di Lammermoor. 5 Oct 1999, Lincoln Center.

Lucia di Lammermoor. 'Original 1835 version'.

Ashton - Roberto Frontali
Raimondo - Paul Plishka
Lucia - Andrea Rost
Edgardo - Frank Lepardo
Arturo - Matthew Polenzani
c. - Charles Mackerras

There were no bagpipes but this 'authentic' Lucia might have been improved by the addition of a helping of haggis. This version was inspired by years of research by Charles Mackerras, 'American born of Australian parents' according to the program notes. I suspect the decision was born of a disdain for the New York opera audience, a fatal flaw in a person of the theatre. And there were LOTS of empty seats - in every section. Not as bad as Moses und Aron, though. I wonder if Ruth Anne Swenson will sing to empty seats in her 'regular rendition' in November with 'incorrect' keys?

The opera was a continuing disappointment with every high note for soprano omitted. While the harpist had found some extra ornamentation and some music I had not heard before, she omitted the last and most difficult final bars of Lucia's entrance to the fountain scene. So much for 'originality'! The 'triple cadenza' at the end of the fountain scene was included in both Sutherland recordings although she rarely did it all on stage.

Reams were written in the New York Times and the night's program about the justification for performing Lucia without the high notes. Mackerras writes that the traditional cadenza in the Mad Scene was 'completely anachronistic' and that the original 'dying fall' is much more 'touching and appropriate'. It was stated that the flute obbligato would be replaced by the rarely heard 'glass harmonica' but it sure sounded like a flute to me. I could not hear any glass harmonica although I sat in row 3 of the orchestra. It was said that these were Donizetti's original keys and that the arias would sound much more immediate and exciting. They did sound good, but all the more getting us ready for the climax which, of course, never came. It reminded me of the last dress rehearsal I ever went to, Sutherland's last Sydney Lucia in which she also omitted the high notes (to conserve the voice for opening night, on which she gave us, as always, the full magilla).

There were fine performances however. Frank Lepardo, American tenor who I first heard over a decade ago in Cosi fan Tutte in Florence (with Bartoli and Mehta), saved this show from total embarrassment. He sang with confidence, power, accuracy and great beauty. His tomb scene was deservedly cheered. There were shades of Jan Peerce who I only heard on 78s.

Roberto Frontali also proved to be an excellent singer, taking risks, complex turns and accidentals at times. Mercifully, the fabulous storm scene had been reinstated and the duet for baritone and tenor was about as good as opera gets. No omitted notes here, and the tympani sounded like an earthquake.
Matthew Polenzani sang well as the ill-fated groom. He fulfilled that promise from his Almaviva at NYCO last year. He has a crisp, confident ringing tenor which should go a long way.

It was almost disappointing that Miss Rost sang so well since, after ornamented, tuneful music that we all know so well, she consistently faded away, even turned around and departing the stage while we were still expecting a thrilling high D or E flat. Try to imagine the end of the Mad Scene with no applause from the Met audience! The music just went on after an embarrassing pause. A devastated and 'winded' audience tried to cope with this calculated let-down. We were then served 'Spargi d'amoro ...' which, though well, or even excitingly sung, ended on an absent note swallowed somewhere instead of the E flat (or D flat) that we have always been used to.

Rost has a capable and piercing voice as also shown by her recordings. She can project a high tessitura into this vast Met house with ease. Her E flats on recording sound full and crisp. She acts tolerably although she is still light years away from the Callas/Sutherland legacy.

Paul Plishka deserves comment. It would be unfair not to start by acknowledging the 33 years of unbroken service this marvellous big baritone (sometime bass) has given the Met. But as Raimondo he only approached greatness occasionally. He looks like a Halloween monster with black holes for eyes. The voice has developed a wide wobble which he commendably controls where possible. On exposed notes, however, it is just ugly and it may be time for him to step aside for a younger artist. It must be said that he has the only voice at the Met that I have ever heard with an echo repeat.

It was a strange manoeuvre of this conductor to draw attention to himself and reduce one of the great operas almost to the banal in the process. I believe in musical archaeology but it does not belong in the mainstream theatre at our expense. My sympathy went to young folk in the theatre hearing the opera for the first time. They may never bother with Lucia again - and just wonder at why people go wild over this show.
The production used combinations of two set designs appropriate to Scotland. A massive rough sedimentary rock escarpment contrasted well with gilded Gothic 'Tudor' interiors including massive stained glass windows. The costumes were traditional style.


Lucia will always remain one of my favourite pieces, despite its detractors' claims of kitsch; formulae; high notes and orchestral simplicity ... it will ever be a vehicle for great artists.


Charles Mackerras has lost points in my little book for his killjoy actions.
　

comments by Andrew Byrne ..
currently visiting New York, on usual email.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dr Andrew Byrne,
General Practitioner, Drug and Alcohol,
75 Redfern Street,
Redfern,
New South Wales, 2016,
Australia
Tel (61 - 2) 9319 5524 Fax 9318 0631
Email ajbyrne@ozemail.com.au
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author of: "Methadone in the Treatment of
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Cenerentola with Cecelia Bartoli

Review the Metropolitan Opera premiere of La Cenerentola (Cinderella) by Rossini. Thursday 16th October, 1997.

The Met has pulled out all the stops for this one. And it is the first time they have done the opera. The New York Times had a two page article describing the Bartoli phenomenon and warning of regular cancellations, limited repertoire and limited size of the voice.

A fabulous cast was mustered and a new production/design team who had not worked at the Metropolitan previously. And the night did not disappoint.

The show had been marketed heavily as the only night of the season which was more expensive, being billed as a 'Gala benefit'. Even Pavarotti in Turandot is regular price ($US24 - $125). Every ticket had its face value plus a 'contribution'. For enthusiasts with the really big money, $700 allowed one to sit in the best 'orchestra' seats and to attend a fully catered sit-down supper with the cast in the circle foyer facing Broadway. I was told that the flower arrangements on each table cost over $200. They certainly looked spectacular, the tables all set with cutlery, crockery and glassware and hundreds of matching reproduction gilded Chippendale chinoiserie chairs looked very at home in this temple of 1960s taste.

That the interval audience was compressed into half the usual space mattered not to the management. You pay for the opera, not the intervals!

The orchestra is always well received here and with James Levine at the helm there is a veritable fan club in evidence. He took the overture (a typical rollicking Rossini jewel) andante until the accelerando came at such a pace it was hard to imagine how everyone would keep up. But they did and it was quite extraordinary at such a cracking pace. The synfonia contains tricks of the instruments, tempi and melodies galore, yielding a round of delight from the audience.

The production's design was based on a vertical thick stripe decor coloured bright blue. The curtains, backdrop, walls and hangings were in a similar vein. A pervading decay was most evident in a smashed mirror, peeling wall-paper, cracked walls and especially effective in a leaking ceiling during the second act storm scene. Bartoli as Cinderella, the disgraced daughter cum servant, ran from place to place with buckets and bowls, finally handing the master an umbrella which was then struck by lightning. Clever stage effects had flames shoot up from several other parts of the interiors simultaneously. The smoking remnants of the umbrella offered little protection to a deflated and soggy Don Magnifico.

Two features of the old Cinderella story are not to be found in the opera libretto. But this is New York and anything and everything goes. In front of the curtain was a line of party shoes, à la Mrs Marcos. These were skillfully scattered by Cenerentola on the Prince's arrival. [It is actually a bracelet which the prince matches to identify his sweetheat in the opera.] The end of the first act party scene saw numerous huge gilded clockfaces showing midnight through doorways - and these were featured on the (free) programmes for the entire Fall season. There were no pumpkins but this was pantomime fantasy at its best.

We were given the first hint of clever stagecraft when Don Magnifico describes his dream of a winged donkey landing on a church steeple. The set duly parts at one of the settlement cracks revealing a cartoon donkey settling onto a picture book bell tower.

It would take pages to tell of all the theatrical tricks at play here: a noose net for the family caught in Alidoro's web; a 2 metre high wedding cake; a collapsing couch, doors to nowhere; flying 'tardis' box to spirit Cinderella away; chorus appearing from floor-boards, chimney and false doors; very-bad-taste sisters' costumes to win prizes.

So how was the singing? Well, quite extraordinary, really. Though not being possessed of a huge voice, Cecilia Bartoli was able to husband her resources efficiently, focus her characterisation and project in a way which was remarkable. There was not a hint of bellow or strain and she connected with the whole audience of almost 4000.

Her colleagues - friends and foes - all sang with equal style and musicality. Alidoro, the master of ceremonies was played by Michele Pertusi, Don Magnifico by Simone Alaimo, Dandini by Alessandro Corbelli, Prince Ramira by Ramón Vargas. Vargas, with a facile if slightly dry tenor, was incomparable in the most florid passages and it is indeed remarkable that he can sing such diverse rôles as he does.

Despite the appearance of Lucia and Barber of Seville, it is claimed that James Levine has steered the Met away from the bel canto repertoire. The Bartoli factor steered him back. And here is complex, light but intense bel canto at its best, as Sydney audiences know.
This was a night to remember, and possibly even to write home about!

from: Andrew Byrne, presently visiting New York.

Madama Butterfly

Opera Australia, Sydney Opera House

Thurs 19th June 1997

Role	Artist
Pinkerton	Jay Hunter Morris
Sharpless	David McNicoll
Cio-cio-san	Cheryl Barker
Suzuki	Ingrid Silveus
Cond.	Patrick Summers

I personally disliked almost everything about this opera performance. The previous AO production was absolutely traditional, closely following the very detailed instructions given by Puccini and his librettist. It was highly regarded and had a very long run at the various Australian opera houses in which it played for over a decade. While fresh from a distance one could understand that parts of it were tattered and threadbare close-up.

So the new production had to be different. It had to suit the music and yet not distract.

It was certainly different. It contained almost nothing Japanese. There were no natural traditional Asian materials, fabrics, flowers, vistas or colours. No cane, bamboo or paper ornaments. Japanese do not insult easily, but the clumsy attempts at western impressions of the sunrise empire might have offended purists, just as the opera itself again puts America into a sorry light. Recycled staging ideas were aplenty.

Beginning from the top: the conductor commencing proceedings un-announced (cf. Otello), pond surrounding stage (cf. Tristan), paddling servants (Midsummer night's dream), draw-bridges (cf. Hoffmann), dressed, on-stage stage hands (cf. Bohème), silk ribbon dance (cf. Turandot), stars above set (cf. Tosca, and why did they move?), Tussaud-like framed figures (cf. Aida and others), vertical sliding screens (cf Ruddigore, Miss Saigon). Butterfly's entrance was no procession, except vocally. The death scene was also a major let down for me. The dagger did not seem to make its mark and Pinkerton, though heard, was not evidenced by anything but a nylon curtain blowing in the breeze (cf. Otello act III). Even Butterfly's flag was the post-war rising sun ensign.

The draining of the canals after the 'petal' diaspora misfired badly. Although there was nothing visible, much of the audience was reminded of the pissoir from the sound of the on-stage plumbing.

But what was new? The voices, or absence thereof in the case of the men. The visiting tenor had a big write up in the press. Like an alarm clock, his top was intact and exciting. What they did not tell us was that there was a weak mid-voice. Sharpless was also new to me - he sang quietly so as not to attract attention. I made a point of sitting in the front circle.

Only the ladies could really be heard from my position. Cheryl Barker's Butterfly was vocally superb. She took all the hard options, holding notes, avoiding breathes and injecting feeling and pathos into her hopeless state in this relentless plot.

Ingrid Silveus was equally moving as the ever-trusting handmaiden, Suzuki.

Patrick Summers, much as we appreciate his returns to Australia, was over indulgent with the tempo. One by one on opening night, the principal singers struggled, and failed to keep up with his unrealistic pace. This is so unnecessary in an opera where accuracy and poise matter. Individual orchestra members are often exposed in intimate moments and they played well and with due deference to this important music.

The audience response was rapturous and I was not in the majority in my flat feeling at the end. So much the reviewer's lot!

This production will improve with time. For my money it would be hard to do anything which would be to its detriment. It is a great advertisement for the concert performance when you run out of original and pertinent ideas to support the opera libretto.

Comments by Andrew Byrne ..

The Dangerous Liaisons - San Francisco Opera

The Dangerous Liaisons: Opera by Conrad Susa, libretto by Philip Littell.

Review by Andrew Byrne

San Francisco is privileged to have an opera company of a standard higher than one might expect for the size of the city. In some years it vies for a place in the top few in the world. Despite reputed financial troubles the cast lists read like a who's who of world opera in the 1990s with an ambitious season heavily subscribed. This included the newly commissioned American opera, The Dangerous Liaisons, music by Conrad Susa, libretto by Philip Littell.

The world première production uses the book's French setting and period (c.1780), a time of decadence and excess for some. By contrast, the production shows none of this, everything having a purpose towards the finale's terrible humiliation. Though in English, surtitles ensured the 3000-plus audience kept abreast of the story's intricacies. The scenery was by back-projection of woods, cloisters, pavilions, rich interiors and other fantasies, augmented by large lateral mirrors, at times fenestrated with translucent hanging panels. This allowed smooth scene changes as well as clever conjoint scenes where parties dictate and receive correspondence simultaneously. The ornate period costumes are richly coloured and the few necessary props of chairs, writing tables, keys and most important, beds, are continental inspired.

The wicked weaver of the web of deceit is the Marquise de Merteuil, played with regal duplicity by Frederica von Stade. Her character development is as complex as her vocal lines and she was equal to both demands. Her final return is most moving. In pink and red, with mirrors now swung inwards, she has survived humiliation and smallpox and her punishment is to live. Her final declamation is most appropriate for a story revolving around inappropriate and excessive appetites: I'm hungry! reminiscent of Bernstein's Candide: Any questions?!

The evil Cassanova figure of Visconte de Valmont is most ably played by Thomas Hampson, now a much sought-after singer on several continents. Successively four women are seduced by him: complete with bedroom scenes for three! He is given some beautiful music, as well as some poetry of substance which he combines in a credible characterisation.

As Madame de Tourvel, the rejected but only real lover, Renée Fleming was most exciting singing her exacting vocal lines in a high tessitura.

The young music teacher and paramour, who is 'friend', rival and finally the successful dueller over de Valmont, is played by Australian, David Hobson, making his international debut. Although two-timing like everybody else, his yearnings and regrets had the sincere conviction called for. He had much worthwhile music to sing and did it ample justice. More use could perhaps have been made of his unique, seamless coloratura abilities considering the part was actually written for him.

Judith Frost, Johanna Meier, Mary Mills, Elizabeth Bishop and Laura Claycomb made up the coterie involved in this romantic blackmail.

The musical score was imaginative, sympathetic and often tuneful. There was a mix of modern with clever use of formal quasi-baroque passages when the story line required. In raucous and raunchy sections, Susa has the orchestra doing some unconventional but effective manoeuvres. The storm scene also employs original orchestration, culminating in a clever dripping rhythm as the chateau's drainage dominates the wind and rain. Under Donald Runnicles' baton, the orchestra is one of the most disciplined I have heard.

Dangerous Liaisons is an ideal vehicle for an opera, with great opportunities for emotional sentiment, both for solo and concerted pieces. Philip Littell, succeeds in getting the story across, though not always in the most beautiful English. In his choice of words, he often avoids French or Latin derivatives, preferring less sympathetic Teutonic forms which sound wrong in this setting. A joy of writing in English is its vast vocabulary. He also needs to rework some parts such as de Danceny's repeated refrain, I want to love your whole, earning a distracting giggle from those prone. Words such as superfluous are best avoided in song. All considered, the poet does create art from all these variables.

Is this a new opera for the repertoire? Perhaps. All may judge when the video and sound track are released later in the year.