Opera Reviews and Interviews

Baritone Johan Reuter who portrayed Wozzeck with the Philharmonia in LA. Courtesy of MSM Music Ltd.

Review by David Gregson, Friday, November 17

With the advent of Regietheatre — and even before that, or so it seems to me — staged opera productions of major operatic masterpieces have confronted us with so many visual distractions that it becomes virtually impossible to listen to the music — and by that I mean specifically the music being played in the orchestra. Alban Berg’s Wozzeck, not everybody’s cup of tea I am aware, seems particularly vulnerable to this problem — but let us not forget that poor old Wagner today is always competing with the staging of some self-important director who hijacks the piece for his own malicious pleasure.

The LA Opera’s disastrous Achim Freyer ‘Ring Cycle’ (“a garish piece of performance art with incidental music by Wagner” as I have called it) is a perfect case in point. In this expensively self-indulgent production which virtually broke the budget of the LA Opera, the stage action, packed with half-baked Jungian symbolism, had almost nothing to do whatsoever with the composer’s intentions. Yes, I am aware that Freyer’s ‘Ring’ has its powerful advocates, among them Mark Swed of the Los Angeles Times, but for me Freyer’s puppet show of so-called Brechtian alienation was the last thing an emotionally profound composer like Wagner needs. Wagner never wished to alienate but to draw his audience into his creations.

So, thank God for concert performances of opera like the one heard last night in Disney Hall, with the U.K.’s superb Philharmonia under the direction of the brilliant Esa-Pekka Salonen. Among my many experiences of Berg’s masterpiece, I have seen two superb staged presentations of Wozzeck in my life, both in Santa Fe (and both utilizing the same production — that is to say, sets and costumes and director’s concept), but very often the opera’s magnificent orchestral score is overwhelmed by everything else. In San Diego, Berg’s all-important between-scene transitions were destroyed as the elaborately clever and clumsy sets were noisily moved about. In Barcelona, the egregious Calixto Bieito placed the action in a gigantic factory and utterly obfuscated the play’s action. It’s a special thrill, then, for Berg’s incredible score to get its moment in the sun.

Frankly, Wozzeck is a very tough musical experience for anyone hearing it for the first time. Each scene is composed within a rigidly neoclassical framework (sonata form, passacaglia, waltz, march, theme and variations, etc.), and a concert performance helps one become more aware of these structures — as well as of the abundant use of leitmotivs and musical onomonopoia, sounds that portray things. It is certainly true, however, that when the opera is well staged, the listener can largely ignore these things and become lost in the drama.

I find Wozzeck a terribly sympathetic character. He is ruthlessly maniuplated, mocked and ridiculed by everyone. The opera, based on an 1837 play by Georg Bückner, is one of the great works about alienation and madness.

Esa-Pekka Salonen, who has known and loved this score from the very start of his career, is certainly the ideal conductor, and it seems Britain’s august Philharmonia is the ideal orchestra. Tuesday’s single performance offering (attended by a remarkably attentive and appreciative audience in Disney Hall) was a thrill I will long remember. Last night (Thursday, November 15) here in San Diego, the same conductor and orchestra doubled the not-to-be forgotten thrills with a flawless Mahler Ninth here in Copley Symphony Hall, but that is another story — certainly one of the greatest Mahler performances I have ever heard.

The cast (listed below) was uniformly excellent and moved about the apron of the stage freely, and they seemingly had invented their own ideas of what to do. No director’s concept intruded. There were no chairs, no music stands and no bottles of water — and all the men wore basic black. Only Kevin Burdette, who was superb as the demented Doctor who uses Wozzeck for his experiments, was partially burdened with carrying his score around; he was a last-minute replacement. Dutch baritone Johan Reuter sang the title role of the poor tormented soldier with a very special beauty of tone and sensitivity to the text, a criticism that might also apply to German soprano Angela Denoke as Wozzeck’s unfaithful but deeply religious wife, Marie. The part of Marie is a voice killer, but she managed it with ease and generated tremendous sympathy for her character. And Reuter really is ideal the ideal singer/actor for the part of the long-suffering, delusional and ultimately murderous Wozzeck. Left to his own devices as an actor and singer, he was more interesting to watch and listen to than almost any other singer I have heard in this role.

The part of Wozzeck’s friend, Andres was given a spirited interpretation by lyric tenor Joshua Ellicott, and I thought that “buffo” tenor Peter Hoare was especially good as the annoying Captain, another one of Wozzeck’s nagging headaches. Anyone would go mad and want to murder someone with these characters around. Really, the Drum Major, wonderfully impersonated and sung by tenor Hubert Francis, should be the one that gets killed — but, no. It’s poor Marie that gets it as the moon turns blood red and Wozzeck wanders off into the swamp to drown whilst trying to retrieve the murder weapon.

Mezzo-soprano Anna Burford was both voluptuous and scary as Margaret whose observations about blood are chilling in Berg’s treatment. Tenor Harry Nicoll also chilled one’s spine as the Idiot, the perfect fillip to the expressionistic mix of horror.

And — oh that orchestra and that conductor. Passionate, polished — overwhelming.

Notable and surprising offstage contributions were made by members of the UC Berkeley Symphony Orchestra (David Milnes, director), and various chorus duties were expertly performed by the UC Berkeley Chamber Chorus (Marika Kuzma, director) and members of Piedmont East Bay Children’s Choir, Robert Geary, director.

And so — Disney Hall’s “opera season” continues to top what’s going on at the LA Opera next door!

Artists
Philharmonia Orchestra
Esa-Pekka Salonen, conductor
Johan Reuter, Wozzeck
Angela Denoke, Marie
Hubert Francis, the Drum-Major
Joshua Ellicott, Andres
Peter Hoare, the Captain
Kevin Burdette, the Doctor
Henry Waddington, First Apprentice
Eddie Wade, Second Apprentice
Harry Nicoll, an Idiot
Anna Burford, Margret
Zachary Mamis, Marie’s Child
Members of the UC Berkeley Symphony Orchestra, David Milnes, director
UC Berkeley Chamber Chorus, Marika Kuzma, director
Members of Piedmont East Bay Children’s Choir, Robert Geary, director

Esa-Pekka Salonen. Photo by Clive Barda.

Los Angeles Philharmonic; Rafael Frühbeck de Burgos, conductor; Núria Pomares, bailarina. Manuel de Falla’s ‘La vida breve.’ Photo courtesy of LA Phil PR department.

Review by David Gregson, November 12, 2012

I have managed to make it to the ripe old age of 71 without ever having experienced a live performance of Manuel de Falla’s two-act lyric drama, La vida breve (premiered in 1913), but I have at long last had that pleasure thanks to a highly exciting concert version of the work just presented by the Los Angeles Philharmonic led by the famous Spanish conductor Rafael Frühbeck de Burgos, still going strong at age 79 — and one of the foremost interpreters of Falla’s music. His recording of La vida breve with soprano Victoria de los Angeles is a part of EMI’s Great Recordings of Century series,

Set to a libretto by Carlos Fernàndez Shaw, the story is simplicity itself, and certainly very, very Spanish. The whole plot might be the lyrics to a sad folk song. Salud, a young gypsy (a soprano role lusciously sung here in Disney Hall by mezzo-soprano Nancy Fabiola Herrera) is courted by a two-timing cad, Paco (the somewhat underpowered tenor Vicente Ombuena), and poor Salud dies at the sight of his getting married to another girl, the daughter of a prosperous Granada family. Well, she had been warned by her grandmother (wonderful mezzo-soprano Daniela Mack) — and then there was that odd Tío Sarvaor (bass-baritone Alfredo Garcia) wandering around. The whole sordid tale, such as it us, unfolds in about 70 minutes.

The work is unique. Falla grafts the dramatic and musical influences of Puccini and Mascagni verismo onto a hugely colorful orchestral score, full of Spanish character — particularly the dances. Even more pointedly national in style is Falla’s use of a cantaor (the marvelous Pedro Sanz — sans a much- needed microphone) and guitar soloist (the impressive Sr. Pablo Sáinz-Villegas). A chorus of men and women enriches the mix, with passages of wordless oohs and aahs strikingly prefiguring similar choruses in Ravel’s ballet Daphnis and Chloe. Otherwise these choristers are supposed to be wedding guests and, at the beginning, workers singing about anvils and hammers in a nearby forge. We learn that it’s better to be a hammer than an anvil, a piece of wisdom repeated rather too much, I fear. The fatalism of the story reminds one of the plays and verses of García Lorca, but the poetry certainly does not. The weak libretto, however, is easily overlooked.

Mezzo-soprano Nancy Fabiola Herrera. Photo courtesy of LA Phil PR department.

While it might be said the superb leading ladies stole the show, one of the most memorable vocal performances of the evening came from the choir stalls, the “Voz de la fragua” (voice from the factory), sung with dazzling force by tenor Gustavo Peña. And a truly superb flamenco bailarina, Núria Pomares, thrilled the audience in two flamboyant dance passages. Never have so many musicians played so loudly for a single dancer moving about a thin sliver, stage-left of a conductor. And the LA Phil was at its very best. The five horns coming in during the first dance were hair-raising.

It’s difficult to call this opera a terribly moving one, but it overwhelms the listener with its rich orchestral textures and many moments of visceral excitement.

Disney Hall, unfortunately, is not ideal for these opera events. I had excellent seats, but the orchestra very often overwhelmed the soloists to the point they were inaudible — and, because of the hall’s basic configurations, sight-lines are a major problem. Reading the projected titles can be a literal pain in the neck from many seats, and a large part of the audience has to look at the backs of the soloists. It is very difficult — indeed almost impossible — hearing any singer whose head is facing away from the listener. These are problems someone will need to address if the LA Phil is to continue its welcome and very special opera presentations.

As for the Beethoven — very nice Maestro, but way too heavy on the tympani!

La vida breve. Opera by Manuel de Falla
Beethoven’s Symphony #8

Artists

Los Angeles Philharmonic
Rafael Frühbeck de Burgos, conductor
Nancy Fabiola Herrera, (Salud) mezzo-soprano
Cristina Faus, (Abuela) soprano
Daniela Mack, mezzo-soprano
Vicente Ombuena, (Paco) tenor
Alfredo García, (Tío Sarvaor) baritone
Josep Miquel Ramón, (Manuel) bass-baritone
Gustavo Peña, (Voz de la fragua) tenor
Núria Pomares, bailarina
Pedro Sanz, cantaor
Pablo Sáinz-Villegas, guitar
Los Angeles Master Chorale, Grant Gershon, music director

Walt Disney Hall
Thursday, November 8, 2012 – 7:00pm
Friday, November 9, 2012 – 7:00pm
Saturday, November 10, 2012 – 7:00pm

Los Angeles Philharmonic

Brandon Jovanovich (Lohengrin) and Camilla Nylund (Elsa von Brabant). Photo by Cory Weaver.

No review expected. My SFO correspondent had a conflict of interest.

Jovanovich will be singing Pinkerton in Los Angeles Opera‘s upcoming Madama Butterfly :

Saturday November 17, 2012 07:30 PM
Sunday November 25, 2012 02:00 PM
Wednesday November 28, 2012 07:30 PM
Saturday December 01, 2012 07:30 PM
Thursday December 06, 2012 07:30 PM
Sunday December 09, 2012 02:00 PM

Meanwhile, in San Francisco –

CAST
LOHENGRIN: BRANDON JOVANOVICH
ELSA VON BRABANT: CAMILLA NYLUND *
ORTRUD: PETRA LANG
FRIEDRICH VON TELRAMUND: GERD GROCHOWSKI
HEINRICH DER VOGLER: KRISTINN SIGMUNDSSON
KING’S HERALD: BRIAN MULLIGAN

PRODUCTION CREDITS
CONDUCTOR: NICOLA LUISOTTI
DIRECTOR: DANIEL SLATER
PRODUCTION DESIGNER: ROBERT INNES HOPKINS *
LIGHTING DESIGNER: SIMON MILLS
CHORUS DIRECTOR: IAN ROBERTSON
MOVEMENT DIRECTOR: LEAH HAUSMAN
* SAN FRANCISCO OPERA DEBUT

War Memorial Opera House
Sat 10/20/12 7:00pm
Wed 10/24/12 7:00pm *
Sun 10/28/12 1:00pm *
Wed 10/31/12 7:00pm *

Sat 11/3/12 7:00pm
Tue 11/6/12 7:00pm
Fri 11/9/12 7:00pm

Camilla Nylund (Elsa von Brabant). Photo by Cory Weaver.

Petra Lang (Ortrud) and Gerd Grochowski (Friedrich von Telramund). Photo by Cory Weaver.

Gerd Grochowski (Friedrich von Telramund) and Brandon Jovanovich (Lohengrin). Photo by Cory Weaver.

“Where the Wild Things Are” original drawings by Maurice Sendak, used with permission of the Los Angeles Philharmonic PR department. All rights reserved.

October 12, 2012: Review of Thursday night performance by David Gregson

Los Angeles Philharmonic at Disney Hall
MAURICE RAVEL: Mother Goose (with video)
OLIVER KNUSSEN: Where the Wild Things Are (with video)

Although I maintain this Opera West website and write here almost exclusively about opera, my personal tastes range widely into other music related areas — piano and organ recitals, as well as choral, chamber music and symphony concerts. I live in San Diego, but for years I have braved the Highway 5 to Highway 101 (heavy) traffic corridor, usually driving up and back on the same night, as a season subscriber to the Los Angeles Philharmonic.

And it may surprise someone living under that proverbial rock to discover that a very great deal of opera has been going on lately in the LA Phil’s Disney Hall home — with its great acoustics and increasing uncomfortable seats, now aging badly and the majority of them always having lacked comfortable leg room.

This 2012-2013 season we can expect several major offerings which can be legitimately discussed here at Opera West: Rafael Frühbeck de Burgos conducting a very rare performance of Manuel de Falla’s complete La Vida Breve; Gustavo Dudamel leading a semi-staged version of Mozart’s The Marriage of Figaro; the West Coast premiere of Peter Eötvös’s Angels in America as part of the Green Umbrella series; and a semi-staged version of John Adams’ The Gospel According to the Other Mary conducted by Dudamel.

Also, thanks to visitors like the UK’s Philharmonia, there will be one concert performance of Berg’s Wozzeck conducted by Esa-Pekka Salonen. And then there are semi-operatic things like the Handel and Haydn Society presentation of Handel’s oratorio Jeptha conducted by Harry Christophers — or the Los Angeles Master Chorale performing the Monteverdi Vespers with the Musica Angelica Baroque Orchestra. I would not want to miss any of these things — and I am certain I am forgetting to mention something.

Thursday night marked the start of a three-performance run of Oliver Knussen’s remarkable Where the Wild Things Are, a stunning piece of 20th-century orchestral writing with voices (1979/1983) — and while it is supposed to be a one-act opera, I would prefer to hear the music with unmoving soloists placed simply in front of music stands. I found all the peripatetic performers and video projections extremely distracting, although more so in the Maurice Ravel Mother Goose that opened the program than in the Knussen opera. The “Wild Things,” inspired by the illustrations in the late Maurice Sendak’s popular children’s book, is often performed in tandem with Knussen’s other Sendak inspired work, Higglety Pigglety Pop!, but at this concert, it was paired with Ravel’s ravishing fairy tale suite, a work that exists in two different piano versions and was later scored by the composer for a ballet given first in 1912 by Serge Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes.

It occurred to me that the plot outline (such as it is) of “Wild Things” is so similar to Ravel’s one-act opera, L’enfant et les sortilèges, another story about a naughty child interacting with fantasy creatures before returning to Mama, that L’enfant would have made a more interesting pairing. But that would have been much more complicated and much more expensive too, I suspect. Many more singers are required for that wondrous Ravel score with a text by Colette.

Earlier this year I visited Berlin and, by an amazing coincidence, heard Dudamel conduct the Ravel Mother Goose with the Berlin Philharmonic. This performance, I am sorry to say, put the Los Angeles Philharmonic’s efforts last night to total shame. Perhaps Dudamel was as distracted by all the goings-on as I was. Stage left there was a family grouping with kids anxiously awaiting their mother (or was it a governess?) to read them stories. A giant screen that hung in front of the organ pipes displayed video projections, largely quasi-animated versions of famous Gustave Doré etchings of the best known Charles Perrault fairytales such as “Puss in Boots,” “Tom Thumb,” “Beauty and the Beast” and “Sleeping Beauty.” A much smaller screen was placed in the upper regions of the balcony, presumably so those people with the wrong sort of tickets (those not facing the big screen at all!) could see what was going on.

What are these allegedly brilliant creative artists thinking? Why offer concerts which discriminate utterly against certain ticket buyers? My subscription seats are wonderful in Row F of Orchestra West, but my neck almost killed me while screwing my head towards a view of the screen on the bias (as it were), and I mostly gave up watching. Apologies to Netia Jones, director, designer and video artist. Just make a DVD, please, and I can view it at home, thank you. I have a great TV and it does not break my neck to see it.

As for the orchestra’s playing — it was the sloppiest I have ever heard the LA Phil under Dudamel! In Berlin the piece was heavenly. I would hate to be forced to admit that Berlin has a better orchestra. Not possible! Right?

Fortunately, Where the Wild Things Are was brilliantly played by our very own Phil led by our Maestro, and the oddly composed part (for the character of the naughty boy, Max) was superbly carried off by soprano Claire Booth, who also had to run around the stage dressed in a “homemade,” loose fitting white wolf costume whilst interacting with the video projections. These projections, by the way, maintained the integrity of the original Sendak illustrations, simply adding an element of movement that, in an important sense, added nothing intrusively new. But here, as with the Ravel work, there were real humans moving about the stage and sometimes hiding behind a screen — singers who were providing Wild Thing noises and song.

With all the distractions, the evening put my nerves on edge — especially after a 3 1/2 hour car trip up to LA through torrential rain squalls and flooded freeway surfaces. Fortunately, the trip back was much easier. I would have taken a hotel — but Madonna was at the Staples Center, and every downtown room seemed to be booked.

As a final note, I find my love of Knussen’s complex scores quite intriguing, especially as I have never been a fan of the Sendak books and drawings. I guess I understand why naughty Max oscillates between a need for Mama’s “hot food” at home and his fantasy world with its edge of rebellion. Knussen’s music is an amazing adult overlay on a childish fantasy. No surprise, therefore, that the LA Phil warned parents against bringing their kids to this event. Knussen’s fantasy world is for sophisticated adults.

I might addd, Knussen’s sly references to works that he likes and that have influenced him are great fun to spot!

Artists

Los Angeles Philharmonic
Gustavo Dudamel, conductor
Netia Jones, Director, Designer and Video Artist

Claire Booth: Max
Susan Bickley, Mama and Tzippy’s: voice/Female Wild Thing
Christopher Lemmings: Moyshe/Wild Thing with Beard
Jonathan Gunthorpe: Aaron/Wild Thing with Horns
Graeme Broadbent: Emil/Rooster Wild Thing
Graeme Danby: Bernard/Bull Wild Thing
Charlotte McDougal

LOS ANGELES PHILHARMONIC

Moby-Dick: Jonathan Lemalu (Queegueg), Bradley Kynard (Daggoo), and Carmichael Blankenship (Tashtego) with Jay Hunter Morris (Captin Ahab). Photo by Cory Weaver.

San Francisco Opera, October 10, 2012
Jake Heggie, Moby-Dick

Review by JANOS GEREBEN

It took John Adams’ Nixon in China a 25-year-long voyage around the world to arrive at its birthplace for the first production in San Francisco. Jake Heggie’s Moby-Dick had a similar journey, but only two years’ worth.

The two operas share not only their place of origin; they are both contemporary works with grand, traditional musical values, and the rare promise of staying in the repertory for the foreseeable future. Beyond that, of course, their subjects and styles are vastly different, and Adams’ many musical innovations have no counterpart in Moby-Dick.

Moby-Dick: Morgan Smith (Starbuck). Photo by Cory Weaver.

Heggie’s work — with Gene Scheer’s libretto based on Herman Melville’s universally-known, rarely read book — is by far his biggest and best. It is gorgeous, romantic music, perhaps too much so. Ahab’s struggle with the “damn whale” is similar to the gut-wrenching ugly drama of Elektra’s revenge — with music to match Richard Strauss’s stunning listeners with a few brief, utterly beautiful passages lighting up the dark horror of a matricide-in-the-making.

In Heggie’s treatment of Ahab’s insane destruction of crew and ship, those proportions are reversed: 90 percent lyrical beauty, 10 percent stark drama, and even that isn’t exactly a punch in the stomach. It’s a wonderful soundtrack, but perhaps more fitting for another movie.

GREENHORN (ISHMAEL): STEPHEN COSTELLO. Photo by Cory Weaver.

What almost makes up for the relative lack of unambiguous tragedy is a great physical production (Leonard Foglia’s direction, Robert Brill’s sets, Elaine J. McCarthy’s projections), Patrick Summers’ masterful direction of an orchestra on fire (woodwinds excelling above all), and a dynamite cast. Without such excellence of execution, the work itself would show more dramatic weakness.

The first act flows well, the second act stalls at times as arias and duets create resting points in the forward motion. But the finale, Greenhorn’s survival and transformation into Ishmael, is close to perfection.

Even with other important roles, the opera basically is a duet between Jay Hunter Morris’ Ahab and Morgan Smith’s Starbuck — and the two performances are superb. Morris handles the high-tessitura role effortlessly, Smith — heard here before only as Prince Yamadori — is vocally and dramatically striking, very impressive.

Moby Dick: Whaling boats. Photo by Cory Weaver.

In two welcome local debuts, Jonathan Lemalu’s Queequeg and Stephen Costello’s Greenhorn sing and act memorably, individually and together, in believable bonding. Another debut, Talise Trevigne as Pip the cabin boy, is also excellent, she rules the stage, even as doing a Peter-Pan flying act by way of swimming/drowning.

Adler Fellow Joo Won Kang is the commander of the Rachel, his voice booms from offstage apparently without amplification as it’s not noted in the program. Every one of the dozen named roles deserve individual mention as there is no weak link in the cast. Similarly, it would be right and proper to name every member of the chorus and orchestra — a performance to treasure even more than the work itself.

Moby-Dick: Morgan Smith (Starbuck) and Jay Hunter Morris (Captain Ahab). Photo by Cory Weaver.

See David Gregson’s review of the San Diego production.

Review of opera when Ben Heppner was replaced by Jay Hunter Morris.

CAST
CAPTAIN AHAB: JAY HUNTER MORRIS
STARBUCK: MORGAN SMITH
QUEEQUEG: JONATHAN LEMALU *
PIP: TALISE TREVIGNE *
FLASK: MATTHEW O’NEILL
STUBB: ROBERT ORTH

PRODUCTION CREDITS
COMPOSER: JAKE HEGGIE
LIBRETTIST: GENE SCHEER
CONDUCTOR: PATRICK SUMMERS
DIRECTOR: LEONARD FOGLIA
SET DESIGNER: ROBERT BRILL
COSTUME DESIGNER: JANE GREENWOOD
LIGHTING DESIGNER: DON HOLDER
PROJECTION DESIGNER: ELAINE J. MCCARTHY *
CHORUS DIRECTOR: IAN ROBERTSON
CHOREOGRAPHER / MOVEMENT DIRECTOR: KETURAH STICKANN
* SAN FRANCISO OPERA DEBUT

Wed 10/10/12 7:30pm
Sat 10/13/12 8:00pm *
Thu 10/18/12 7:30pm *
Sun 10/21/12 2:00pm *
Tue 10/23/12 8:00pm
Fri 10/26/12 8:00pm
Tue 10/30/12 7:30pm
Fri 11/2/12 8:00pm

Ildebrando D’Arcangelo as Don Giovanni reclining on the prompter’s box. Photo by Robert Millard.

Review by David Gregson

Intelligently stage directed for maximum humor, logic and sense by Gregory A. Fortner, wonderfully conducted by James Conlon at the head of his well-honed orchestra, and for the most part extremely well sung by an international cast including the dashing Italian and dark sounding bass-baritone, Ildebrando D’Arcangelo in the title role, Los Angeles Opera’s new Don Giovanni is much, much better than it looks.

The production utilizes the least interesting sets for this piece that I have ever seen in over 55 years of opera-going, and it is most certainly the dullest looking Don Giovanni ever mounted by the LA Opera — but, quite frankly, that did not bother me one iota personally. I was more concerned with what the first-time audience was thinking: “Hey, I thought we were gonna to see something’! Isn’t this supposed to grand opera?”

“Well — this certainly IS a minimalist production,” remarked my seat companion. “The company must have run out of money.”

At least everything is sunny looking, just like the real Seville, I thought. All stage directors should be required to travel to Seville and see  just what it actually looks like before transforming this sunniest of all Spanish cities into Gloomsville. Don Giovanni, The Marriage of Figaro, Fidelio, and even Carmen and The Barber of Seville are usually dark and dreary so the audience can better appreciate the deep dreadful seriousness of the plots as interpreted by Regietheater geniuses who know better than we do.

Roxana Constantinescu as Zerlina and Ildebrando D’Arcangelo as Don Giovanni. Photo by Robert Millard.

This delightfully bright “minimalist” stage design had one central door; adobe colored wall units that moved about and represented the streets and interiors; a klutzy malfunctioning fore-curtain (was it dark blue?); some windows dropped in from nowhere for one scene; a dining table that immolated in red-paper flames the end; and Duane Schuler’s lovely lighting on certain blue and orange aspects of the mise en scene (not to mention his sun-bright peasant scenes). It all worked well for me. If I am not mistaken, this is the first Don Giovanni in decades NOT to receive an aggressive Regietheater interpretation. One almost might say, it was just what Mozart and his librettist Lorenzo da Ponte had intended if they had had to work on a budget. And what’s more, when everything came to its conclusion, the audience seemed to love it. In fact, there was a great deal of merry laughter just where merry laughter is asked for.

David Bizic as Leperello and Ildebrando D’Arcangelo as Don Giovanni. Photo by Robert Millard.

Whether they will love it enough to recommend it to their friends is another question. A great masterpiece like this one really doesn’t need sets or costumes (as fine as the latter by Moidele Bickel are) — and that’s the truth. I hope people will go.

Another problem, surely temporary: the night I saw the opera (Friday), there were many mysterious and alarming bangs and crashes, and one had the sense of stagehands running around trying to prevent some impending disaster. Curtains wouldn’t close and flats flew away at the wrong time. It was like amateur hour at the LA Opera.

But the performance was quite another matter. Don Giovanni‘s eponymous anti-hero was as genuinely masculine and dashing as anyone could desire, and he is a superb singer and stage performer. By an amazing coincidence (hmm!), a brand-new Deutsche Grammophon CD release of “Don Giovanni” has hit the market, an astounding all-star affair recorded in 2011 at the Baden-Baden Festival. So, you can make up your own mind how good this man is. I have yet to hear the disc (and, since everybody on it is so good looking, am truly astounded it is not a Blu-ray DVD). The set features Luca Pisaroni (Leporello), Diana Damrau (Donna Anna), Joyce DiDonato (Donna Elvira), Rolando Villazón (Don Ottavio), Konstantin Wolff (Masetto), Mojca Erdmann (Zerlina), and Vitalij Kowlowjow (Il Commdetore), all under the baton of the (to me) fabulous young Yannick Nézet-Séguin.

No, I am not paid by Amazon for this “plugola,” but DG’s PR people did send me a lovely copy of the CD the other day. Can’t wait to hear it.

LA’s cast is first rate. California soprano Julianna Di Giacomo has the power and finesse to bring off every important scene and aria, and she grew in strength the Friday night I saw her. When the final moralizing chorus arrives (after Don Giovanni’s demise), I could not take my eyes and ears off her and her “boyfriend,” Don Ottavio, the simply superb Russian tenor Andrej Dunaev, who had earlier carried off the two difficult arias (feared by most tenors), “Dalla sua pace” and “Il mil tesoro.” For her part, Di Giacomo brought off an exemplary “Or sai chi l’onore” and a gorgeous “Non mi dir.” Pathos and anger work well for her.

I wish I could say the same for the Donna Elvira of Finnish soprano Soile Isokoski, possessor of what seemed to me a very sweet, very pretty voice, but not an especially large one. Perhaps she was ill. She tired noticeably Friday, and by the time of the very important “Mi tradi” her flowing tone had slowed to a trickle. It was like a candle flickering out. I wanted more oomph all the way through in this very meaty role. It’s fun to be furious all night long and run around intruding yourself angrily on everybody’s business, but this Elvira did not seem quite up to it all.

Julianna Di Giacomo as Donna Anna and Ievgen Orlov as the freshly murdered Commendatore. Photo by Robert Millard.

The world abounds in wonderful Leporellos, but I would count Serbian bass-baritone David Bizic among the best. He brought a special lightness of touch to the part, and his body movements had a unique dance-like quality with which he seemed to be having a great deal of fun. He must make an interesting and original Don Giovanni, a role he will most certainly be singing soon if he hasn’t already. One was scheduled in his bio online.

As the “innocent”peasant girl Zerlina who seems quite open to dangerous flirting, Romanian mezzo-soprano Roxana Constantinescu was delightful and excellent in her exchanges with Don G and her beau Masetto — but it’s a role one tends to forget just a little, no matter how good the singer. For my generation the singer most often recalled was Spanish mezzo-soprano Teresa Berganza. In any event, poor Constantinescu will be replaced as Zerlina (October 10 and 14) by the attractive American soprano Micaëla Oeste. Rising superstar diva, soprano Angela Meade, by the way, replaces Julianna Di Giacomo as Donna Anna on those same dates, but I would be surprised if Meade amounts to a substantial upgrade in vocal and dramatic quality. In any event, I will not be hearing those October performances. It would require another drive up to LA from San Diego — even though the great Domingo will be taking over conducting duties on those dates as well. Conlon, I suspect, is the better of the two conductors; I think Domingo may be taking over to boost attendance (but I am only speculating on this.)

Australian basso Joshua Bloom has a lot of fans in these Western parts, although he is making a smash success as Zerlina’s frustrated lover, Masetto, in his LA Opera debut. He is partly a product of San Francisco’s Merola program, and I have enjoyed his work before in Santa Fe and with the LA Philharmonic. He is a joy to watch and listen to and brings a totally believable and sympathetic character to the stage. He is far more than a source of comic fun. He is both the boyish lover and the mature male.

I like Il Commendatore coming to dinner and dragging Don Giovanni down to hell — a simple but rarely simply accomplished stage action thanks to Regietheater these days. Ukranian bass Iebgen Orlov would seem to be the perfect choice for this part, but Friday he seemed slightly underpowered. Once again, perhaps he was not feeling his best — and yet I would count him an excellent Commendatore. The cemetery scene, by the way, had more stuff in it (monuments and memorials and such) than the entire rest of the opera — and the Commendatore was recumbant on his slab, something I have in fact NOT seen before. But this set was frustrating in that a sort of low partition rose up several feet in front of the audience’s view, making it necessary for the singers to jump on top of it if more than just their torsos were to be seen.

To indulge in an odious comparison of leading Giovannis, I think the deeper voiced Ildebrando D’Arcangelo has an edge way over baritone Mariusz Kwiecień, an artist whom I admire greatly, but not in this part. Both men know how to be sweet, seductive, gentle, harsh, cruel, ironic and nimbly athletic, but I find D’Arcangelo more convincing. There are certainly a bunch of baritonal types in competition for the Giovanni Crown these days — all of them good in their different ways. I would say Gerard Finley, Bryn Terfel, Simon Keenlyside and Christopher Maltman are the chief contenders.

When all is said and done, this Don Giovanni, costumes and all, was better than the highly touted Dudamel/Frank Gehry/Rodarte version done only last May (!) just across the street at Disney Hall and reviewed here at Opera West.  But it’s a shame that the very same Mozart masterpiece has to be in a sort of timeframe competition with itself. More coordinated planning is needed between the LA Phil and the LA Opera.

Oh — well OK. The Kate and Laura Mulleavy of Rodarte costume designs (at least for the women, if not the men) were truly memorable in that LA Phil Giovanni. A little last-minute walking back. Very fashionable this election year.

Soile Isokoski as Elira, with Don G (D’Arcangelo) and Leporello (David Bizic) around the corner. Photo by Robert Millard

CAST
Don Giovanni: Ildebrando D’Arcangelo
Donna Anna: Julianna Di Giacomo*
Donna Anna (Oct. 10, 14): Angela Meade*
Donna Elvira Soile Isokoski
Don Ottavio: Andrej Dunaev*
Leporello: David Bizic*
Zerlina: Roxana Constantinescu
Zerlina (Oct. 10, 14): Micaëla Oeste*
Masetto: Joshua Bloom*
Commendatore: Ievgen Orlov

CREATIVE TEAM
Conductor: James Conlon
Conductor (Oct. 10, 14): Plácido Domingo
Production: Peter Stein*
Director: Gregory A. Fortner
Scenic Designer: Ferdinand Wögerbauer*
Costume Designer: Moidele Bickel*
Lighting Designer: Duane Schuler
Choreographer: Peggy Hickey
Fight Choreographer: Ed Douglas

Los Angeles Opera

Saturday September 22, 2012 07:30 PM
Friday September 28, 2012 07:30 PM
Sunday September 30, 2012 02:00 PM
Wednesday October 03, 2012 07:30 PM
Saturday October 06, 2012 07:30 PM
Wednesday October 10, 2012 07:30 PM
Sunday October 14, 2012 02:00 PM
RUNNING TIME

Three hours and 25 minutes, including one intermission.
Evening performances: 7:30-10:55 p.m. (approximately)
Matinee performances: 2:00-5:25 p.m. (approximately

I Capuleti e i Montecchi. Joyce DiDonato (Romeo). Photo by Cory Weaver.

San Francisco Opera
September 29, 2012

Review by JANOS GEREBEN

Forget Shakespeare. Vincenzo Bellini and his hapless librettist, Felice Romani, came up with their own static, nonsensical version of Romeo and Juliet in the 1830 The Capulets and the Montagues – so called by the San Francisco Opera instead of I Capuleti e I Montecchi.

The visual offering of tonight’s premiere of the Bavarian State Opera-San Francisco co-production in the War Memorial was a bewildering combination of Vincent Boussard’s bizarre direction, Vincent Lemaire’s disorienting sets, and Christian Lacroix’s phantasmagorical costumes.

I Capuleti e i Montecchi. Nicole Cabell (Giulietta). Photo by Cory Weaver.

From the opening scene of the Capulets milling about (and blocking the view of soloists) in stovepipe hats, under a cloud of suspended saddles, to the final scene of poor Juliet standing motionless to portray her in death, distractions and self-indulgent “director’s opera” bits piled on one another.

(One interesting variation from Boussard on the old theater convention defined by Chekhov, “If in the first act you have hung a pistol on the wall…”, is “If in the first scene saddles float in the air, they will be carried to battle in the second act.”)

And yet, none of this mattered. Vocally-musically, this is wonderful production. Joyce DiDonato’s Romeo and and Nicole Cabell’s Juliet go right into the record of great performances. They sing radiantly, joyously separately, and — even more — together. DiDonato is well-known and much treasured in these parts, but Cabell is making her debut here, a striking, memorable one.

In addition to the vocal challenges of the Bellini score, Cabell also had to put up with the director’s harebrained instructions to climb up on a narrow shelf to sing one aria, then balance on the edge of a barrier for the next, and then there was that living-statue-while-dead shtick — and through it all, Cabell sang like an angel, the voice soaring through the big hall effortlessly.

I Capuleti e i Montecchi. Ao Li (Lorenzo) and Joyce DiDonato (Romeo). Photo by Cory Weaver.

Riccardo Frizza conducted the orchestra in an exciting, splendid performance. Ian Robertson’s Opera Chorus had another triumph, top hats and convoluted (but picturesque) costumes notwithstanding.

Eric Owens breezed through the role of Juliet’s father, Adler Fellow Ao Li made a strong impression as Doctor (not Friar) Lorenzo. Saimir Pirgu’s debut here, as Tybalt, didn’t measure up to reviews he has been receiving in Europe. The young Albanian shouted in the first act, and there were miscalculations and small breaks on high notes, but improved by the duet in the crypt with Romeo near the end. There must be some roles better suited for Pirgu than this.

Major and confusing diversions from Shakespeare include Romeo’s previous killing of Juliet’s brother, and cousin Tybalt wanting to marry Juliet (instead of the non-existent Paris), and Juliet’s completely different character from the one in the play. She is more like Donizetti’s Lucia here, conflicted, hesitating, resisting, going mad. From the director: consistent distance between the two alleged lovers.

But to repeat: Listen to DiDonato and Cabell, relish the performance of the orchestra and chorus, and admire Cabell’s Olympic athleticism.

I Capuleti e i Montecchi. Joyce DiDonato (Romeo) with Supernumeraries. Photo by Cory Weaver.

CAST
GIULIETTA: NICOLE CABELL *
ROMEO: JOYCE DIDONATO
TEBALDO: SAIMIR PIRGU *
LORENZO AO LI
CAPELLI: ERIC OWENS

PRODUCTION CREDITS
CONDUCTOR: RICCARDO FRIZZA
DIRECTOR: VINCENT BOUSSARD *
SET DESIGNER: VINCENT LEMAIRE *
COSTUME DESIGNER: CHRISTIAN LACROIX *
LIGHTING DESIGNER: GUIDO LEVI *
CHORUS DIRECTOR: IAN ROBERTSON
* SAN FRANCISCO OPERA DEBUT

I Capuleti e i Montecchi. Eric Owens (Capellio). Photo by Cory Weaver.

Remaining performances:
Wed 10/3/12 7:30pm
Thu 10/11/12 7:30pm
Sun 10/14/12 2:00pm
Tue 10/16/12 8:00pm
Fri 10/19/12 8:00pm

 SAN FRANCISCO OPERA

Tenor Francesco Meli as Jacopo Foscari. Photo by Robert Millard.

Los Angeles Opera
Verdi’s I Due Foscari (“The Two Foscari”)
Review by David Gregson, Monday, September 17.

Did you know that Verdi’s I Due Foscari (“The Two Foscari”) is the greatest opera Verdi ever wrote?

Well, if you believe it is so, you can make it so — which seems to be the attitude of conductor James Conlon along with everyone else involved with the Los Angeles Opera’s gala season opener Saturday evening at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion.

Conlon flung himself into this early Verdi piece with a thrilling ferocity that made the whole experience dramatically tense as well as an utter delight. The La Opera Chorus (choral director Grant Gershon’s crack platoon) and the LA Opera orchestra (sounding galvanized into action) and a roster of superb soloists gave this musty rarity all the respect in the world and jolted it into vibrant life. Early Verdi’s show-off style is great fun, and that great composer never seemed to be at a loss for a good tune. The drama is less convoluted than usual for early Verdi (although it’s quite confusing enough), and if an opera company gives it a great, thoroughly committed performance like this one — well, the audience is going to love it, which they did.

It would be wonderful, by the way, if we heard more of Verdi’s early works and his less performed later works, and perhaps we will — somewhere else in the world — during this upcoming 2013 centennial celebration of his birth. But Wagner’s birthday centennial coincides, complicating the issue, and the LA Opera seems to have discharged its Verdi rarity responsibility (if you can call it that) by giving us I Due Foscari, even if it was, in many ways, a slightly cynical vanity project cooked up by Domingo, the LAO’s general director, to show off his chops as a newly converted baritone and to use his name as an audience draw.

Domingo as the Doge in his last hours. Photo by Robert Millard.

I confess to be one of those Domingo admirers that goes to hear his baritone excursions with fear and trepidation, but this is definitely an occasion where the role might have been written just for him — almost as if Verdi had a 71-year-old former tenor in in mind. The Domingo voice is still beautiful, even if it is not the voice of his youth, and he is actually able to channel his age into the drama’s role of a somewhat ineffectual yet venerable Doge of Venice. In his very physical presence complemented by his experienced artistry, Domingo makes a highly sympathetic figure, especially in those famously Verdian scenes where the composer demands highly charged emotional exchanges between father and daughter, and, in this case, between father and son.

The opera’s story, taken from the 1822 play, The Two Foscari: An Historical Tragedy by Lord Byron, is set in Venice circa 1457 and revolves about events in the the troubled reign of the Doge Francesco Foscari (Domingo). Despite staying in power over a period of 34 contentious years and being rather good at his job, he has a rival, Loredano (the beautifully full-toned Ukrainian basso Ievgen Orlov) who has had something to do with Doge Francesco Foscari losing three of his four sons. Only Jacopo Foscari (the wonderfully Italian-sounding as well as actual Italian tenor, Francesco Meli) survives, but he has powerful enemies who manage to cook up tricky schemes to get Jacopo arrested and condemned for crimes against the state. He is caged and tortured. A Venetian senator, Barbarigo (the excellent tenor Ben Bliss) also has a function in all this unpleasantness, although I cannot say with any precision just what it is.

Meanwhile, Jacopo’s wife Lucrezia Contarini (fiery soprano Marina Poplavskaya at her best) frantically and furiously tries to save him. But somehow Jacopo’s own father (and a Doge to boot) is unable to do anything to rescue his son. It would violate a Venetian law for him to act. Much emotional turmoil ensues for an entire act or more. There are four of these acts, by the way, but they go by very quickly despite two long intermissions.

A Festival Scene. Photo by Robert Millard.

A festival scene alleviates the general gloom of the tale, although none of the jolly irresponsible citizens want to contemplate the old Doge Foscari’s problems. The restive mobs from Verdi’s “Simon Boccanegra” are conspicuously missing. Then, just at the last minute, authentic evidence that would exonerate Jacopo from exile and likely execution materializes. Unfortunately it’s too late. The Doge dies of shock and sorrow but not before Lucrezia gets a wild short scene in which to display emotional and vocal fireworks in the inimitable early Verdian manner. Despite some occasionally very weird sounding tones in quick passages, Poplavskaya was thrilling, and Meli showed that he is most definitely a top tenor we need to hear much more often.

Poplavskaya and Meli. Photo by Robert Millard.

Effectively directed by Thaddeus Strassberger, the opera’s mise en scene is a strange one. Scenic designer Kevin Knight, costume designer Mattie Ullrich, and lighting designer Bruno Poet have given us a weird world which in many ways evokes the art of Salvador Dali — while at the same time not looking in the least bit like that artist’s style. A decaying Venice is propped up by long metal cylinders (recalling Dali’s wooden crooks that often keep his surreal objects from falling down or that prop open flesh wounds). Puzzling utilitarian ramps run right and left both high and low, and the backdrop is an almost abstract blot of darkness. The prison cages, however, seem to quote the work of Piranesi.

I would say this production is a must for all fans of early Verdi in the area. There’s no more early Verdi in the works, not even in Long Beach. San Diego Opera will be doing the late-period not-at-all rare Aida in the upcoming season, and San Francisco has just done the middle period warhorse, Rigoletto — so that’s it. SFO did, however, perform Attila in the summer season just past, a review of which (by Janos Gereben) appears at this site.

CAST
Francesco Foscari: Plácido Domingo
Jacopo Foscari: Francesco Meli*
Lucrezia Contarini: Marina Poplavskaya
Loredano: Ievgen Orlov*
Barbarigo: Ben Bliss+
Pisana: Tracy Cox+
Servant of the Doge: Hunter Phillips+

CREATIVE TEAM
Conductor: James Conlon
Director: Thaddeus Strassberger*
Scenic Designer: Kevin Knight
Costume Designer: Mattie Ullrich*
Lighting Designer: Bruno Poet*
* LA Opera debut artist
+ Domingo-Thornton Young Artist Program member

SCHEDULE
Saturday September 15, 2012 07:30 PM
Thursday September 20, 2012 07:30 PM
Sunday September 23, 2012 02:00 PM
Saturday September 29, 2012 07:30 PM
Sunday October 07, 2012 02:00 PM
Tuesday October 09, 2012 07:30 PM

RUNNING TIME
Two hours and 35 minutes, including two intermissions.
Evening performances: 7:30-10:05 p.m. (approximately)
Matinee performances: 2:00-4:35 p.m. (approximately)

Plácido Domingo as Francesco Foscari, and Marina Poplavskaya as Lucrezia Contarini. Photo by Robert Millard.

Peabody Southwell, Suzan Hanson, Ashley Knight in "The Paper Nautilus." Photo by Keith Ian Polakoff.

Long Beach Opera works its magic on The Paper Nautilus by Gavin Bryars

Review of “The Paper Nautilus” by David Gregson as seen Saturday, September 8

A memorable passage in Marcel Proust’s monumental novel “In Search of Lost Time” (“À la recherche du temps perdu”) describes a beachside hotel dining room as “an immense and wonderful aquarium” stocked full of wealthy people who appear as a variegated assortment of strange fish and exotic mollusks. Only a glass panel separates these weird sea creatures from a crowd of amazed village folk peering in from outside. Proust (or more accurately, the book’s narrator) worries that one day this panel might shatter, letting in the gloating onlookers who just might hook some of these amazing aquatic beasts for their kitchen pots.

Such images flooded my mind Saturday as I took my front-row seat in Long Beach’s Aquarium of the Pacific for a performance of Gavin Bryar’s beautiful “The Paper Nautilus,” not an opera, really, but a sort of staged and choreographed song-cycle for soprano, mezzo-soprano, dancers, two pianos and a sizable percussion ensemble. I do not see myself as a “swell,” nor do Long Beach Opera’s loyal followers ever strike me as self-satisfied snobs congratulating themselves on supporting “high kultcha,” but who knows what the fish were thinking? Looming in front of us was the giant tank of the aquarium’s entrance hall — and even though our vast submarine view was kept dark throughout most of the 60-minute long performance, one sensed the fishes observing the odd human antics going on below them.

Sitting there in a room of mysteriously changing illumination (created by lighting designer Dan Weingarten and his associates) and gazing at the tank, partly obscured by a white curtain that slashed diagonally across my viewpoint, I also thought somewhat absurdly of one of my earliest movie-going experiences, Esther Williams’ “Million Dollar Mermaid” (1952), an MGM biopic about Australian swimming champion Annette Kellerman — coincidentally a one-time Long Beach resident who operated a health food store there. If the movie could be credited for accuracy (which it can’t), Kellerman was seriously injured at New York’s Hipppdrome when a giant glass tank in which she was performing an underwater ballet, suddenly cracked open, spilling her and eight thousand gallons of water on the spectators. As a child, I was hypnotized in horror as the crack began to sneak its way across the glass — and then the inevitable disaster.

Peabody Southwell. Photo by Keith Ian Polakoff

But, fortunately, my mental associations Saturday evening went in other more relevant directions as well. This Bryars piece, an irresistible reworking of material from “The CIVIL warS,” an aborted collaborative multimedia project that included composer Philip Glass and designer/director Robert Wilson, evoked for me the songs of Henri Duparc and other great French art song composers, while simultaneously exploring the more magical and lyrical aspects of that style somewhat incorrectly identified as “minimalist.” The program book credits the texts to Marie Curie, Ethel Adnan, Pope Leo XIII, the Vulgate, Jackie Kay and the English Bible — and a link to these works can be found right here:  The poems take one down, down, ever lower into the sea, and at the end of the work, the tank at last streams with light, revealing streams of bubbles and the denizens of the deep.

Although the poems are metaphysical in the extreme, Madame Curie brings a scientific eye to bear:

“I am among those who think that Science has great beauty. A scientist in his laboratory is not merely a technician: he is also a child placed before natural phenomena that impress him like a fairy tale. We should not allow ourselves to believe that all scientific progress can be reduced to mechanisms, machines, gears, which indeed have their own beauty. I do not believe either that in our world, the spirit of adventure is likely to disappear if I see something important around me, it is exactly this spirit of adventure that seems ineradicable and linked with curiosity.”

Then the texts envelope our bodies in water; they contemplate the physical self, the sun and the brain; they evoke the Lord; they explore loneliness in hidden pearls; they personify the ocean and the lives it holds, even the fishermen; they meditate on the moon and darkness; and at last plunge into oblivion and/or eternal life.

Ashley Knight and Peabody Southwell. Photo by Doris Koplik.

All in all, it was a mesmerizing performance that brought together two exceptionally beautiful voices and wonderful stage performers — soprano Ashley Knight and mezzo-soprano Peabody Southwell — as well as the elevated (literally) and imposing presence of Suzan Hanson in the speaking part of Madame Curie. Enormous credit is due to all the creative personalities listed below, especially conductor Benjamin Makino (who was invisible to me except via a small TV monitor I spied), and director/concept and production designer, Andreas Mitisek, the source from which all good things flow in Long Beach. I also found the work of choreographer Nannette Brodie and her dancers to be gorgeous in its simplicity, its fluid movement and in the pleasing architecture of its posed stage pictures. Bob Christian’s remarkable sound designs complemented the intriguing visual imagery of Adam Flemming’s lovely projections, most of which were fraught with obscure meaning relating to the poems. The percussion ensemble, so varied and interesting in the sounds it produced, featured the excellent players you will also find named at the bottom of this review.

When all was done, the entire audience was invited “backstage” into the aquarium to menace the sharks with the possibility of spilled glasses of wine or carelessly fumbled cheese cubes — but I think the fishes emerged totally unscathed and nobody fell into the pool with the giant black circular rays, although some petting of these fantastic creatures, seeming to me like floating panels of back velvet, did take place.

Production rehearsal. Note dark fish tank in photo by Keith Ian Polakoff. Madame Curie is on stage at left. You can see the layout for pianos and percussion.

Suzan Hanson: Madame Curie
Ashley Knight: Soprano
Peabody Southwell: mezzo-soprano

Conductor: Benjamin Makino
Concept/Director/Production Designer: Andreas Mitisek
Choreographer: Nannette Brodie
Projection Designer: Adam Flemming
Light Designer: Dan Weingarten
Sound Designer: Bob Christian
Costumer: Nicholas Pilapil

Musicians:
Pianists: Neda Kandimirova, Benjamin Makino
Percussion: The Los Angeles Percussion Quartet, featuring Dave Gerhart and T.J. Troy 
Marimba: Matthew Cook 
Bass Marimba: Justin DeHart – bass marimba
Marimba: Nick Terry – marimba
Vibraphone & Bass Drum: T.J. Troy 
Stell Drum & Glockenspiel: Dave Gerhart 
Timpani & Thai Gong: Eric Guinivan

Aquarium of The Pacific
100 Aquarium Way
Long Beach CA 90802

Fri. September 7 – 8PM
Sat. September 8 – 8PM
Sun. September 9 – 8PM

Long Beach Opera

Thomas Hampson as Scarpia and Amanda Echalaz as Tosca. Photo by Ken Howard.

Now playing in summer festival repertory.
Review by David Gregson of August 8 performance  – an plus update for the cast change in the August 11 performance.

As had been planned from the beginning of the season, famous American baritone Thomas Hampson took over the role of Scarpia Saturday night in Santa Fe Opera’s production of “Tosca.” Dramatically, Hampson was a great improvement over basso Raymond Aceto who had been performing the role since the production was first presented on June 29. Vocally — well, it’s a toss up.

Looking extremely slim, tall and handsome and sporting a dark beard, Hampson commanded the stage as Puccini’s infamous villain, one of the nastier ones in all opera. He notably rejected some of stage director Stephen Barlow’s more physically erotic stage directions. Unlike Aceto, Hampson did not give La Tosca an intimate TSA style pat down, nor did he pin the diva to the floor as if about to rape her before God and creation: after all, Spoletta and Company are running in and out of the office.

In the Act One “Te Deum,” Hampson was slightly underpowered for the scene’s vocal demands, and elsewhere he did not produce the ideally black vocal quality that makes for the most exciting sort of Scarpia. I confess to having predicted this in my own mind. Although I regard Hampson as a great artist, I have never thought this sort of role would be good for him. Am I unfair to feel this way? Perhaps the sound of Tito Gobbi is lodged forever in mind. His was the first Scarpia I ever heard, way back in high school.

What follows is my review of “Tosca” sans Hampson. Looking it over today, I can see I failed to mention the really excellent performance of the fugitive who opens the entire opera and gives impetus to the whole story. This was Cesare Angelotti as sung by impressive sounding Santa Fe apprentice baritone Zachary Nelson, for whom I predict a great career. I also enjoyed hammy bass-baritone Dale Travis who extracted virtually every comic possibility in the role of the Sacristin, even singing several times while scarfing down bits of food stolen from Cavardossi’s luncheon basket. I also thought tenor Dennis Peterson was excellent as Scarpia’s evil minion, Spoletta.

A second visit to this production also gave me a different impression of soprano Amanda Echalaz: she seemed much more The Diva in Act One than on first hearing. And as for the quasi-expressionist sets that gave us tilted views of almost everything, I actually enjoyed seeing the brilliant lighting of the colorful inner skin of the “cupcake-presser” church dome in Act One. (Lighting was by Duane Schuler.) Nothing, however, can convince me that Cavaradossi would be painting his Madonna on the church floor. I noticed Hampson took care not to step on her freshly painted face.

Thomas Hampson as Scarpia -- with lighting on the inside of the "cupcake dome". The "Te Deum" scene. Photo by Ken Howard.

++++The Review++++

One likes to come to Santa Fe Opera — or at least I do — for the unusual items: things like this season’s “King Roger” and “Maometto II,” and I would even put “Arabella” on the list. Perhaps, although more marginally offbeat, “The Pearl Fishers.”

But “Tosca”? That sounds like the annual “pop” item designed to sell lots of tickets to people who do not even care who’s singing. And, really, what jaded opera veteran wants to hear “Tosca” yet again (even if it is a masterpiece!) when the singers are relatively unknown and you have seen virtually every great diva on earth perform the title role over a life span of many years? This is not even taking into consideration tenors and baritones who have thrilled you as Cavaradossi and Scarpia.

RAYMOND ACETO (SCARPIA). Photo by Ken Howard.

So, it was a delightful surprise to encounter a genuinely exciting Floria Tosca, a very promising Mario Cavaradossi, and an imposing Scarpia singing in virtual silhouette before the desert sunsets over the distant Jemez Mountains.

South African soprano Amanda Echalaz is gifted with a large, sumptuous voice (she has already sung Salome at La Monnaie) and she can scale her vocal instrument from the girlish to the mature woman: she already has Cio-Cio San and Tatyana in her repertoire. Her first-act Tosca is girlish and alluring. She enters all in white, wearing a white veil — and instead of impersonating the oversized insanely jealous diva, she portrays a playful, charming young woman who toys with the idea of jealousy, smiling all the time. She knows it’s a game and a bit of joke. This makes her lovable from the get-go, and we feel her agony when Scarpia brings her latent and authentic jealousy to the surface.

In the second act, Echalaz gradually rises to a rage we can really believe in, and she performs her murder of Scarpia with tension-charged balletic movements and some wonderfully powerful singing. In short, she is going to make her mark with this role wherever she goes. She would have made a greater impression in the last act, by the way, had the staging (more on that to follow) been less inept.

Talented American tenor Brian Jadge, a handsome man (despite being a bit heavier than I had expected), has so much voice he can’t help showing it off, sometime to the detriment of the role. He does not need to sing so loudly so often: the voice spreads and loses some of its natural beauty. From instinct and training, he knows his way around a stage, and he can be perfectly charming — although some people complained to me that he did not seem to have “chemistry” with his leading lady. My impression of him was that he is a first-rate talent needing a little more discipline. I saw the great mezzo Susan Graham give a master class here in Santa Fe last Tuesday, and she was able to draw markedly improved performances out of her four apprentice students in the space of a mere 30 minutes each. Jadge might rocket to the top of his craft if he too spent 30 minutes heeding Graham’s brand of advice. As good as he is, Jadge is still in the promising category.

It will be interesting to see what Thomas Hampson does with the role of Scarpia when he takes over from American basso Raymond Aceto this coming Saturday. Aceto is not among the nastier, snarlier Scarpias I have ever seen, but he is a striking presence, nonetheless. The stage director, Stephen Barlow, requires Aceto to virtually rape Tosca on stage, and this Aceto does as if it were second nature to him. Scarpia clearly behaves this way on a regular basis, so Aceto conveys the villainy as instinctive and as natural as breathing. The voice is fine, if not among my favorites: quality-of-voice judgments are terribly subjective.

The sets of scenic designer Yannis Thavoris are a literally topsy-turvy representation of Rome, and any hint of the Castel Saint’Angelo from which our heroine famously leaps to her death is missing. She leaps, handcuffed (a novelty, to be sure) off of something somewhere with tilted church domes visible in the distance.

The venue where Cavaradossi is painting his Madonna (on the floor, by the way, as if he were Jackson Pollock) is supposed to be the church of Sant’Andrea della Valle. This looks like some giant cooking utensil that presses out cupcakes; and we see Santa Fe’s landscapes stretching away at the rear.

BRIAN JAGDE (CAVARADOSSI). Photo by Ken Howard.

Scarpia’s apartment in the Palazzo Farnese is dominated by a huge fresco in need of repair. Tosca picks up the fruit knife to murder Scarpia before the usual time indicated in the libretto, but she drops it and has to go searching for it again when the hour of Scarpia’s doom is struck. Tosca covers the corpse with a coat and then hauls it into another room, so Puccini’s music for the placement of candles and the cross takes on new illustrative meanings.

And, in the very height of absurdity, the Act Three shepherd boy becomes a janitor cleaning up Scarpia’s bloodied room with broom. Stage directors know so much better than the composer these days. Hey, this is a pretty scene usually: dawn in Rome, church bells ringing, and the shepherd boy singing as he guides his flocks into the new day.

Conductor Frédéric Chaslin led the excellent orchestra in an exciting and nuanced performance of the score.

Oh, singing “Vissi d’arte” while lying on the floor has become such a cliché that Barlow permits Amanda Echalaz to stand and deliver.

And deliver she did.

RAYMOND ACETO (SCARPIA) & AMANDA ECHALAZ (TOSCA). Photo by Ken Howard.

Cesare Angelotti – Zachary Nelson
Floria Tosca – Amanda Echalaz
A Sacristan – Dale Travis
Mario Cavaradossi – Brian Jagde
Scarpia: June 29 – Aug. 8 – Raymond Aceto
Scarpia: August 11 – 24 – Thomas Hampson
Spoletta – Dean Peterson

Conductor – Frédéric Chaslin
Director – Stephen Barlow
Scenic Designer – Yannis Thavoris
Costume Designer – Yannis Thavoris
Lighting Designer – Duane Schuler

For complete schedule and ticket information, please visit http://www.santafeopera.org/index.aspx