Gertsamtkunstwerk

Reviews of Il Postino

Anne Midgette demonstrates the art of writing a review of a new opera:

Il Postino delivers in LA

same article, different headline/link

Domingo's tenor lifts respectable, but too literal, 'Il Postino' by Daniel Catán

As an opera, it does tolerably well. Catán’s strength is beautiful music...and he offers plenty of it here -- sometimes in odd counterpoint to the laconic words of the dialogue it’s supporting... the opera succeeds best at traditionally operatic moments, like the full-bore, Pucciniesque wedding septet. Its weakness was a dogged fixation on the overblown...The weight of the opera score crushed some of the details beneath it...Il Postino takes refuge, too often, in generalities, poetry, and lovely music. Still, there are worse things to hide in -- and worse criticisms to make than to say that Catán has written a very lovely opera

Not having heard the work, I haven't a clue whether I would agree with her, but this gives me a real sense of the work.

Although she employs the standard tick-list approach to ensure she praises everyone who needs praising, she does with subtlety, avoiding clunking truck-drivers' gear-changes.

She writes the essential paragraph aimed at readers like me who simply wouldn't be reading the article otherwise

The music showcased Domingo’s ringing tone, tapped into an unexpected tender streak with a few high pianissimos, and never carried him too far above the staff. This opera would, in fact, be destined to live forever simply as a meaty role for an aging tenor, if only star tenors, these days, didn’t tend to burn out faster than they age. Domingo, more and more, is a miraculous exception.

And just for the reader's entertainment, and to demonstrate that she is a human being rather than a dessicated musicologist, she states:

It’s certainly a grateful role for Domingo. The exiled Chilean poet Pablo Neruda,  is an ageing but still-sexy artist pondering life and art and his legacy, with world renown and magnetic charisma. Sound familiar?

I'm not in the habit of reviewing reviews, but this really is an exemplar of how it should be done. She doesn't attempt to show how clever she is musically or in her ability to use arcane polysyllabic verbiage. It's not so long that you fall asleep halfway through, but long enough to contain several paragraphs of substance.

And even though she had reservations about the music, she does not trample over someone else's right to have enjoyed a night that they probably paid for themself (which I assume she didn't, but who could begrudge free tickets to a writer of this calibre!)

It will be a long time before we read such a well-written review  - which is not to diminish the quality of the several I link to below, which in general seem above the curve!

Daniel Catan's `Il Postino' the opera, starring Placido Domingo, delivers movie's magical mood

With Catan writing for the strongest part of Domingo's voice and avoiding the very upper register, Domingo is a marvel of standout singing and suave acting. This is his 134th role, easily unequaled by other star tenors, and because he chooses his repertoire carefully, he shows no sign of slowing down...Domingo lent an educated elegance to Neruda. His voice was strong, showing no signs of the cold that afflicted him during the dress rehearsal.

Il Postino in world premiere at LA Opera: Domingo’s enduring, endearing dominion

Catán’s Postino is a well-crafted, old-fashioned romantic opera, a crowd-pleaser in a conservative but genuinely expressive musical vocabulary. The score's post-Puccinian style is augmented with devices from Ravel, Britten, and Richard Strauss.

Any worries that the Spanish-born, Mexican-reared Domingo had lost his mojo as a lyric-dramatic tenor were soon allayed. With a voice the envy of many a tenor thirty years his junior, he triumphed as the Chilean poet and social crusader, Pablo Neruda. His ring was clarion and the voice of even tone through the register, an occasional glottal low note of little consequence. Domingo’s acting was pared down from the usual opera melodramatics to a nuanced wistfulness as the brooding, later regretful poet-leader of national struggle.

World Premiere of Il Postino at LA Opera

Domingo. The latter sang with vigor and youth, despite having not sung in the final dress rehearsal because of a sore throat. His audio recording of "Comprendo" was used several times in this opera as well.

Opera review: L.A. Opera premieres 'Il Postino'

The piece may not be particularly new or inventive, but it is undeniably beautiful, and it packs an emotional punch. Best of all, it provides a role superbly tailored to the great Plácido Domingo, who delivers it magnificently...

Like Domingo himself, Neruda embodies a fascinating combination of youthful romanticism and the canniness and authority of middle age...Neruda's vocal lines here have all the passion associated with a traditional operatic tenor, and Domingo sings them with astonishing freshness and clarity.

And a review of the audio-only experience from one of the few insightful posters on Opera-L

(if the link doesn't work, it's Il Postino: World Premiere Broadcast by G. Paul Padillo)

At 69,and only having recently come back from his controversial "baritone" tour 'round the world, Placido Domingo's poet Neruda was about as beautiful a bit of singing as I've heard from this - or any tenor - in many a year - frequently so gorgeous as to give me the ol goose flesh, Act 2 found Domingo spinning out rich mezzo piano notes at the upper end of his range that were so ravishing they'd be the envy of a tenor half his age. Sure, the high notes are minimal in the score - almost to the point of being almost non-existant, but THIS is the sort of thing this man should be devoting his time to, not Boccanegra or Rigoletto (or god knows what else). Onstage for most of the opera, Domingo never seemed to tire, the voice as fresh and lovely at the end as it had been three hours before. His ensemble work with other cast members, particularly Christina Gallardo Domas (who sounded better than she has in several seasons) and Charles Castronovo was often ravishing.

He blogs at pArts though this piece isn't on there as I write.

Il Postino

(from Variety)

Poesía en ópera: ‘Il Postino’ da dimensión musicala la película, con ayudade Neruda

Sorprendentemente, el primero entre Neruda y su esposa Matilde —la soprano Cristina Gallardo-Domás — es sumamente erótico. Domingo (que físicamente proyecta la imagen perfecta de Neruda) asume con fineza pero mucha determinación una breve escena en la que Gallardo-Domás aparece parcialmente desnuda. Es una escena importante, que habla de la vitalidad del poeta maduro y de su capacidad para amar —y especialmente para escribir sobre el amor—.

And not to forget Out West Arts, first off the mark with review, and previously linked to.

When Postman and Poet Meet

From The Wall Street Journal

Mr. Domingo, still in astonishingly robust voice, dominated his scenes

Daniel Catan’s ‘Il Postino’ Opens with Placido Domingo (VIDEO)

Naked ambition in world premiere of new Placido Domingo opera

 This article could have been quite interesting, but in seriously flawed by its lack of fact-checking  - "Also, nudity, invariably female, is not unknown in opera, or to L.A. Opera." Erm, The Fly, much? - and concludes with something that strongly resembles a schoolboy snigger.

I have to confess that I would find it extremely difficult to watch this scene live, in public.

As this article's author points out, the nudity is contextual. In art, as in life, it normally is. I don't find a naked body per se to be sexual, and in art, as in life, I often find partly- or fully-clothed bodies often to have more erotic promise. So the thought of seeing the back view of Cristina Gallardo-Domâs, or any other soprano, topless leaves me entirely indifferent in itself.

No, what I wouldn't be able to cope with is what Anne Midgette describes prosaically

When Domingo sang Neruda's famous love sonnet "Mañana XXVII," a poetic evocation of his naked beloved, he disrobed Gallardo-Domas to the waist 

or as the Culture Monster writer puts it:

Especially riveting was that this moment unfolded slowly, and quite literally, in the hands of the world’s most celebrated living tenor.

Any other singer, I'd be, like, whatever, but him. Not him! No, I think I might possibly go to pieces and into bits.I would be thinking 'I wish that were me' (purely in a contextual way, of course), and it would be far too intimate and intense to experience in a theatre in the company of strangers and acquaintances, particularly when I would suspect that some of them might well be feeling the same way.

(and that is why I think that people object to nakedness and sexual inferences in live art. The dress it up in matters of 'good taste', 'morality' or 'think of the children', as smokescreens for their inability to deal with their own reactions! Just an opinion!)

Also, prosaically, the Paris performances are too close to the Barcelona performances of Tamerlano, which are booked and paid for and may be combined with a beach holiday on a nearby Costa.

Il Postino in Los Angeles

Currently in rep at Los Angeles Opera, and due later this season in Vienna and Paris . The first night was last night (Thursday), following a Dress Rehearsal on Tuesday. At the Dress Rehearsal, it was announced that Plácido had a cold, and, in order to preserve his voice for the opening night, his cover would sing from the wings, although Plácido would act. Not any reason for panic, and, indeed, he sang at last night's opening. It's too early yet to get a decent selection of reports, and OutWest Arts the exception, there's little chance of reportage form blogs in LA

It was being streamed on the web, but I could see little attraction in staying up. I have no doubt it will be available to download from the internet within days, if not sooner. I'm afraid the attractions of listening to an unfamiliar opera with breaks in the streaming and without the visuals are few. To do so between 2am and 5am my time is even less attractive. Did it for The First Emperor but at least I'd had the advantage of an alcohol-fuelled opera nap post obligatory work Christmas lunch. I'm torn about whether I want to see it in Paris. Well, actually, I do, just not sure I want to fork out for train fare and hotel or actually be in Paris...! (No matinée).

(And let's be honest, Los Angeles Opera doesn't have a stunning track record on new commissions!).

An interesting article on the background to the opera:

Going Postino: L.A. Opera and Plácido Domingo Bring Neruda to the Stage in World Premiere Work

“It is phenomenal poetry, but it is very complicated,” Domingo said, “When he talks about how beautiful his wife is naked, he says, ‘You are as simple as one of your hands. You are round. You are yellow. You are enormous, like summer.’ It’s all about metaphors. It’s not like the poetry of Garcia Lorca, which is very straightforward. Of course I have known the poetry of Neruda since childhood, but you don’t really understand it until you grow up.”

L.A. Opera to deliver 'Il Postino' premiere on Thursday - from the LA Times

Interview with Charles Castronovo, who plays the postman, by Outwest Arts.

Outwest Arts has been busy, attending both the Dress Rehearsal - Know Before You Go  and the premiere - You've Got Mail (the comments box in the earlier post contains a link to the now notorious picture of Cristina Gallardo-Domas naked, though not actually of nekkid norkage - or as someone posted on Twitter

Last night I saw "Il Postino," my first opera. There's a whole scene where Placido Domingo sings to a pair of naked breasts.

(to which I replied: I bet he hated that!)

The review of the first night includes an embed of this LA Opera YouTube clip

Ovación en el estreno de "Il Postino", con Placido Domingo como Pablo Neruda

and video clip , including of curtain calls etc

Meantime, and presumably in between rehearsals, after he had finished Rigoletto in Mantua, he got into the swing of the Los Angeles celebration of the bicentenary of the start of Mexican independence (from Spain!).

Plácido Domingo festeja el Bicentenario

(he's seen here with his grand-daughter Nicole)

Walking on people

When you live in a crowded city, an essential life skill is the ability to negotiate crowded places. During the rush hour in London, it is remarkable how well most people manage to get smoothly from A to B without impeding the ability of others to do similarly.

I also have this belief in life which can be summarised as 'steam gives way to sail'. In other words, make way for the weaker, whether they be physically frailer or merely impeded by luggage, pushchair etc.

On Wednesday morning, I used the busy pelican crossing outside the busy Brixton underground station. I felt someone next to me, trying to edge me out of the way. I refused to give way, because there was nothing impeding her ability to walk straight ahead. Because I didn't stop to let her continue her diagonal walk - across a busy pelican - she decided to cross in front of me anyway, putting her sling-backed foot precisely where my booted foot was descending.

Oh damn, my DM boot scraped the back of her ankle. She turned round; I suggested she walked in a straight line. She then said "It's not your fault, it's not your fault".

You cannot imagine how this irritated me. It was pretty patronising. I knew it wasn't my fault, I had made no attempt to apologise. It had never crossed my mind it was my fault. And I told her: "I know it's not my bloody fault. Walk straight across the road". I even used my hands to indicate straight. I thought - I know your type: you see some overweight middle-aged woman, quite possibly limping, and you think 'Weak! Pushover!" Maybe I'm paranoid, but I really couldn't imagine she'd have tried that with a 6'2" muscular youngish black man. So why me?

I head into the station and realise I'm walking directly at a 30-something man walking in the opposite direction. He realises at precisely the same time. We both edge to our respective lefts, pass closely, not too close, and exchange a small smile of acknowledgement. Neither of us has broken our stride, we've accorded each other respect. It's actually very normal!

I get down to the platform, busy but not crowded. The train is full enough to be nearly ready to go; the next train is already in the other platform*; the platform is not yet clear of people who have arrived. A man appears at my right shoulder and tries to shove me aside (not violent, not an assault, but a jostle for position). I push him back, he turns and glares at me.

One of those days, I think.

He walks into someone coming from the opposite direction,  effecting a shoulder barge, and is glared at. He crosses the path of someone who has to break her stride and stop, to avoid bumping into him. He looked respectable, fit, strong. What gives him the right to impede other's passage so that he gets this Victoria Line train, rather than the next one that will leave in, ooh, 90 seconds.

I walk down the edge of the platform and as I approach the door to my favoured carriage, a man crosses in front of me. He clearly hasn't looked, he has no idea that I'm there, it hasn't crossed his mind he may not be alone. Again my foot comes down precisely where his has landed. He scowls at me.

I I did have a serious think: is it me - three incidents in such a short space of time? I examined the sequence of events and analysed what I did and what I could alternatively have done. I concluded my only alternative choice of action would have been to stop, defer, make way, surrender, be bullied by people younger, fitter and stronger than me. And I won't stand for it. I crafted a battle cry "My only crime is to grow old!"

Then I remembered, I'm not halfway through my expected lifespan yet.  I did amuse myself by thinking: I bet the statistics dictate that at least one of those people will succumb prematurely or suddenly to some accident or illness that makes them weak, at the mercy of the kindness of strangers. And one day, someone strong will bully them to move out of the way - and they'll probably yield, because they know no better!

* end of the line station, with two platforms, train go into alternate platforms, all trains are northbound, if you miss one, you cross over to the other platform

Salome @ Royal Opera House 6 July

 A bit late, yeah, well!

The only directly relevant tweet I produced was

At Salome curtain I had perfect tweet using 'grotesque', 'extreme frottage' 'psychologically/' 'fucked-up', 'bloody' & 'ace'. Gone now

Although before curtain up I had been a bit surprised to see a Primary School-aged child on the terrace. I'm as liberal as the next person, and think, for child is able to sit still that long, an outing to Carmen or Eugene Onegin is excellent.

But I doubt the judgement of the parent who takes their child to Salome. Even while I make allowances for an exceptional child, for one with an unusual love of Strauss dating from days in the pram, I still find it disturbing. It crosses my mind that maybe that the whole point of the drama has gone completely over the parents' head.

That wouldn't surprise me, it depresses me that there are people who consider opera to be exclusively about pretty - relaxing - tunes in pretty dresses. Or maybe they thought that it would be full of Viennese Waltzes in the style of Johann, Joseph etc Strauss. But there is no excuse for not doing at least some research when taking a small child into a fundamentally adult space. I do note that last time I saw it I commended it as an excellent first opera for teens. Teens very different from barely-out-of-Infant-school.

I feel that no 8 year old child needs to be confronted with the darkness of this story; conversely, I do not wish to live in a word where everything is wiped clean to 'protect the children'. I'm an adult, and I want to see disturbing and unsettling operas (and plays and Fine Art). I need to see art that challenges my complacency and settled view about the world and our interactions within it. By making me feel uncomfortable throughout, it holds my attention absolutely.

It's a taut work, about 100 minutes, through composed without an interval. It's also noticeable that there is - not to mince words - a better class of audience member, everyone seemingly absorbed, not there on a 'Romantic date' or behaving like a coach-party-member-at-Oliver, or there to preen and be seen. I imagine there were coughs, knocked over water bottles and rattles of sweet papers, but if so, they were not intrusive.

I described the set in some detail previously, and also to some extent the production. What really stayed me was an excruciating feeling of inappropriateness, claustrophobia, of silences pregnant with unspoken knowledge of dreadful deeds.

The relationship between Salome and Herod chilled me to the marrow. Never directly alluded to, but the dynamics and chemistry were all wrong. This culminated in his insistence that she danced for him, not taking no as an answer, not accepting a pretty little number she'd practiced in her ballet class. She had to dance the Dance of the Seven Veils, or, as realised here, the Seven Rooms. Each room depicted a stage in her development, from infanthood to where she was now, a too-knowing psychologically damaged young woman. Never directly said, but the implications were frightening.

And in return, she demanded the head of John the Baptist. Herod was powerless to refuse. Why? What hold did she have over him that made him, so seemingly powerful, unable to refuse this grotesque demand?

I recall studying the Bible Story at Primary School. Violent death in stories was commonplace, and, barely a decade after the Abolition of Capital Punishment perhaps not so shocking. But the death of a living breathing actual person who had appeared on the stage, preaching and singing, someone she knew, that was too much. I had imagined she saw his head on the plate and went 'Yeah, well, sorted' and went back to playing with her toys.

The culmination of the shock was the grotesque display of out-of-control public sexuality. One can debate for ever society's perceptions of public displays of autonomous female sexuality. I just think that using a freshly severed head as a masturbatory aid breaks every taboo and every commonly held standard of acceptable behaviour. And in front of one's parents, too.

It is difficult to imagine a more shocking display of depravity, especially when it was clear that she was not doing it for show, but as a physical and psychological necessity, an elusive search for expiation. As the final note sounded, the audience was silent with palpable shock.

I barely spared a thought to marking the singers nor attempting objective comment upon the orchestra playing: it was a superb example of Gesamtkuntswerk.

I suppose the most obvious comparison must be made between Angela Denoke who sang Salome this time, and Nadja Michael who sang the role when this production premièred in 2008. I like Nadja's voice a lot, for many of the reasons that other people don't, but nevertheless it was clear to me that Angela's vocal performance was significantly better.

However, I found her physical performance somewhat lacking. I am surprised to read she is nearly fifty, for she played Salome as a fully mature but young woman, whereas I think the role demands an absolutely perverted mirror of youthful innocence. Her sexual exhibitionism was more the experienced seductress and less than the anguished abused damaged child.

The rest of the cast was magnificent in aggregation, Gerhard Siegel particularly memorable as Herod. And I do recall thinking the orchestra, under Hartmut Haenchen, was splendid. Though I do not consider myself a Straussian, I could go back to this opera again and again.

But like Rupert, I was a bit disappointed that, given the executioner was absolutely naked, we didn't see anything of his 'dangly bits'. This isn't some pathetic frustrated desire for clandestine sightings of cock (I speak for myself, not necessarily for Rupert), but more a puzzlement at why the coyness, given the context - the discrete cover-up reeks of suburban propriety and jars with the setting. Perhaps there was an artistic dilemma - should the executioner be aroused by the act, but what angle of dangle would be acceptable to the obscenity police? Would a resting member be equally jarring and out-of-place?

The original run of the production is available on DVD

Manon @ ROH Brief and very late review

Selected tweets from 1 July 2010

• 19:53 #manon God, the music is dire, the story is dragging (Puccini'd have them halfway to New Orleans by now).
• 19:55 #manon Anna Netrebko & @VittorioGrigolo sound absoutely gorgeous. I'd rather they be singing the Argos catalogue, though.
• 19:56 #manon The scenery's quite nice. I guess they'd applaud it in lesser venues. 
• 21:20 Now, that's a lot better - Cours de la Reine & St. Sulpice are chocca with gorgeous music and two lovely (ie familiar!) arias #manon
• 22:49 I really enjoyed #manon. Would love to hear it again, with or without interpolated aria de catalogue d'Argos.

These tend to sum up how I felt at the time. I am not a big fan of Massenet:I'm surprised I have a category on the blog - albeit spelt wrong (oops!) - because I didn't think I cared for him.

I booked for this because of vague reasons. One, being that I might as well over-do the fabulous ROH season finale in its entirety. Another being that I have heard this work two or three times and didn't actively dislike it. And it had Anna Netrebko in it. I'm not a huge fan, but, whatever. It was supposed to have Rolando Villazón in it, although he withdrew long before the tickets went on sale, to be replaced by Vittorio Grigolo. So, a mish-mash of reasons, none of them strong enough to make this essential, but no reason to stay away.

This was on the Thursday when I had already been to Simon Boccanegra and the Brixton Labour Leadership Hustings...crikey, I know how to have a good time, one night Plácido Domingo, the next Ed Balls... Also, it was a ridiculously early curtain, which meant me leaving work earlier than usual. And the reason for me not writing a timely blogpost - the next night I was out again, to Simon Boccanegra.

I oughtn't to have been in the right frame of mind to enjoy an opera I barely knew. One I barely knew because it had failed to seize me on the few but several occasions I had attempted it. I only really know the story from Puccini's version, Manon Lescaut.

I found Acts 1 and 2, those before the first interval, to be dire beyond belief. I was disengaged from the story and cared little for the music. The music sounded nice but only if you like a huge gollop of over-Romantic strings (and stuff). I considered going at the interval, but persuaded myself to stay. There would be another interval, which would be my opportunity to escape and salvage something from the evening. In the interim I would listen to the glorious sounds coming from Anna Netrebko and Vittorio Grigolo, and look at, and silently applaud, the scenery.

At this distance it is impossible fully to capture the lack of interest and  ennui that came over me in Act I. It compared so poorly to Puccini's take on the same story - I'm a bit weird, I care little for Butterfly, Boheme and Turandot, but give me a Manon Lescaut, a Fanciulla del West and of, course, Tosca, and I'm a big Puccini fan! I didn't care about the characters, I didn't care how the story played out. And I only decided to stay because Anna Netrebko and Vittorio Grigolo were sounding so gorgeous.

The eagle-eyed reader will have noticed that I don't go gaga over sopranos, or female opera/classical singers in general, but I guess Anna Netrebko is one that I favour above most others, although with reservations.

I feel a slight proprietorial claim on Vittorio Grigolo. About five years ago, he released an album of forgettable crooned dated pop-style songs that did exceptionally well in the commercial pop charts. This caused me and many others to assume that he was a poor man's Bocelli. In May 2006 I attended the Classical Brits which turned out to be a feast of tenors. Plácido Domingo, Rolando Villazón...and Vittorio Grigolo. Vittorio sang Maria from West Side Story and Una furtiva lagrima, and even given the electronic amplification/distortion, it was pretty clear that he was for real.

For a couple of years subsequently, his name popped up occasionally on English language news groups, and the consensus seemed to be 'he's another over-marketed crossover singer'. Later 'what's that over-marketed crossover singer doing singing in  opera houses in America'? When I could, I described my experience, and pointed to his CV, a good set of large roles in small houses and small roles in large houses - probably a good grounding for someone who is now 33. Gradually people began to realise that he should be taken seriously as a bona fide opera singer.

This was my first time hearing him actually in an opera and without the distortion of amplification, and he didn't disappoint vocally.I found his voice to be clear and sweet. Perhaps open to accusations of loud, and not very subtle. Good pitch and tone, often beautiful. Not outstanding as an actor, but I've seen worse. Let's be honest, I'd seen worse just that in week (and no, I don't mean Ed Balls**). I was just reading over some professional reviews, one highlighting that this was house debut. I would definitely agree it was an outstanding house debut. He seems to have chosen his roles carefully, and I look forward to many more appearances.

I returned to my seat for the second part of the opera, for Act 3, at the races and the St Sulpice scene. And suddenly, it happened I was bowled over. Everything seemed to come together in a melange of gorgeousness. A truly lovely set and reasonably intelligent direction, which led to it being a memorable production. Anna Netrebko was stunning, managing to portray an understated brittle vulnerability - Manon was behaving like a 'good-time girl' but it was surface show. And the music - just lovely. It's too long ago to pretend to remember the precise phrases that got to me, all of it held together by the notable arias Je marche sur tous les chemins (Manon) and Ah! Fuyez, douce image (Des Grieux).

Overall, it was a lovely evening. Arena Pal and their web-hosts have failed to have a Disaster Recovery Plan (which doesn't impress this auditor one bit) but assuming they manage to get their act together, I daresay they'll have loads of watermarked pictures. Meantime Intermezzo has sufficient to convey the gorgeousness of the design and of Anna and Vittorio.

There were other members of the cast, all of whom were at least adequate and many were better than. But I think, really, it's a vehicle for the soprano and tenor. I did wonder whether I would go again? I decided that it would depend very much on who was in these roles. Both would have to be vocally hot and to my taste; it could end up being a bit disastrous with one or the other being unpalatable. And it's definitely worth seeing for the production.

As for the opera, I think it probably deserve its place in a lower drawer of the repertoire. It has some splendid numbers, but they are rather held together by long passages of saccharine 19th Century string-heavy schmaltz. This and the Puccini counterpart shine a light on the corruption of 18th century society mores, but this one in particular (and I don't exempt Puccini) treat it all as if it's a bit of a hoot.

Manon is made to look trivial and capricious; the far more interesting story would be about how she schemed and fought to escape to be free. I expect it's supposed to be a morality story - woman gets uppity and then dies - but I admire Manon for her spirit and for trying.

One thing that does linger is how utterly unintelligible both leads were. Even with the surtitles, and knowing some of the arias, and being able to understand spoken French (up to a point...) I failed to detect more than the odd word. This has to be noted as a minus point, but shouldn't ultimately detract from their gorgeousness.

*Interestingly, most of my favourite pop singers are women, and that is very much the case when I'm considering voice alone. I like the songs and performance by male artists as diverse as Billy Bragg and Adam Ant, but when it comes to wallowing in vocal gorgeousness give me kd lang or Dolores O'Riordan anytime

** For avoidance of misunderstanding, I don't dislike Ed Balls, and think he will be a brilliant Shadow Chancellor, job-share or otherwise. I just like making cheap, irrelevant jokes)

Don Pasquale @ ROH

I attended this last night, my third time of seeing it, and with the third entirely different cast. 2006 and 2004.I must be getting old, I thought it was more recent than that.

I thought I loved Donizetti. Not to the extent of loving Wagner or Verdi, but certainly enjoying his tunes. But I've had a bad run of Donizetti*. So I was determined to enjoy last night's Don Pasquale.

You may have noticed I am a bit of a tenor nut. It's not unusual for my appreciation to depend upon the tenor, even in an opera like this where the curtain calls show the tenor to be ranked third behind basso (or in this case baritone) and soprano. And I was greatly looking forward to the vastly under-rated Barry Banks as Ernesto.

As a side issue, I had thought that Don Pasquale is a basso buffo role, and Paolo Gavanelli a baritone. It seems strange that this obviously inconsistent casting has gone unremarked. So baritones and basses, as sopranos and mezzos, are interchangeable, but for a tenor to take on baritone roles is The End of Opera As We Know It™. Get a grip people.

Barry from Stoke (see interview ) is obviously not how you'd imagine a top-class Italianate tenor, and, sadly, Our Barry is not the tallest of men. I've never met him, so can't judge, but doubt that he's much taller than 5 foot.

Which is such a shame, because Barry from Stoke ought to be a star. He has a gorgeous voice. The most obvious comparison is with Juan Diego Florez, acknowledged as the leading singer in that fach. JDF has that elusive 'star-quality', but Barry has tremendous stage presence, and is fine as an operatic actor. Probably not as crystal clear at the top of the range as Our Juandi, he also lacks the beat/bleat that I know puts several people off the Peruvian.

I thought that the rest of the cast were fine without being stunning. Jacques Imbrailo has the potential to be an extremely good singer but I found him underpowered in this role. I was in a seat I know to be acoustically sweet, and, in any case, I had no problem with the other singers.

I don't want to be the person who dismisses a singer because they are not as good as previous singers in that role, and at times, Paolo Gavanelli was outstanding. I just don't think he did the patter to my satisfaction and I found his portrayal of Don P a bit lacking either in initial outrageousness or subsequent pathos.

Iride Martinez did nothing to upset me and at times was delightfully vapid, as the character demanded, but there were no vocal thrills. All in all, it was a routine revival with a routine revival cast.

It had been scheduled to be conducted by Sir Charles Mackerras, who sadly died at a grand old age in July. Instead, Evelino Pidò conducted, and I can't say I was impressed. It was pedestrian and uninspiring.

I do like Don Pasquale as an opera, and unlike other people, I like the Dolls House production. I did conclude, though, that the first two acts, run together as if one act, do rather drag. There's an awful lot of scene setting for one rather lame joky story line. And an awful lot of recititative leading to the musical highlight of the thankfully short third act: - the tenor's gorgeous aria, Com'è gentil ' and the Ernesto/Norina love duet.

The worst aspect of light fluffy operas such as this is that they are billed as 'comedy'. In truth, they are mildly amusing, at most. I don't have a problem with mildly amusing, not everything has to be split-your-sides-laughing. I just find it perplexing that so many people feel driven to chuckle seemingly unstoppably at stuff that is barely amusing.

It's not that I lack of sense of humour, but it just worries how they manage to control themselves when it comes to the downright hilarious. I may be totally wrong, but I think for many of them most of the time, they are laughing deliberately to show 'everyone else' that they 'get' the joke and are, thus, intellectually superior. At least I didn't have the problems a friend did, with the people behind him rustling sweet papers throughout. Though I did hear the sound of rustling also from the other side of the house (different people, different sweet papers).

Some people feel uncomfortable about this opera because it depicts cruel exploitation of an old but rich man. I don't.

I doubt that Donizetti or his librettists conceived it as an analysis of a patriarchal society, but it provides revealing observation of what counted for 'normal' back then in Italy: threatening Ernesto with disinheritance unless he entered into a forced marriage; a young woman finding it necessary to enter into an arranged loveless marriage for economic reasons; and the impersonated Soferina being locked away in a convent, no doubt either because of some previous sexual sin (like being raped) or merely to ensure that she didn't live a full life as an autonomous individual.

So, I don't have any great sympathy for Don Pasquale, who is the least exploited and oppressed of the lot of them. (This of course is the sort of marriage the religious nutters would like to defend against attack from people who love each other and want to be together!)

A nice pleasant start to the season, but an opera that failed to move me either in music or story, and one that really offers no insight into the human condition, even when accidentally providing a historical glimpse into the arrangements of society. A good solid 6/10, but no danger of it being a season or calendar-year highlight!

* Walked out of Fille this summer, thought it irritatingly light-hearted and the second choice tenor, Colin Lee, nothing special, endured a Lucia di Lammermoor with the world's worst tenor Jaewoo Kim as stand-in man, and I was bored by ROH's L'elisir last year with a sub-standard tenor Giuseppe Filianoti. And yet, I saw a wonderful and fabulous Elixir of Love at ENO last year, and didn't even blog it. #gertfail!

On blogging

During late June and July, almost immediately after my return from holiday, I had, for me, an incredibly busy diary. My main focus was Simon Boccanegra. Well, let's be absolutely honest here, my main interest was Plácido.

But in that time, there were many other unmissable opera performances in London, plus Labour Leadership hustings, a fullday course at work on my non-working day, the World Cup, a sprained ankle, and so on. Just at a time I was taking on a new role at work with a line manager I barely previously knew.

I was absolutely adamant that I was not going to get ill as a consequence of this madness. Certain things had to be sidelined. Namely, the blog. 

I know anyway, and learnt again, that it is very difficult to provide a good report of anything, such as an opera performance, if too much time elapses after the event. To a certain extent, making (near) contemporaneous notes can help, but I am never going to sit in an opera, or other performance, and make notes. (Insight evenings and Labour Leadership hustings are different - although I didn't, in the end).

I have a list of blogposts to write that goes: Manon, Salome, Semele, Meistersinger, omnibus post of Simon Boccanegra the opera; plus various posts about passing observations, or rants that must have been important at the time.

They're not going to get written.

I find that I often defer things - not just blogpost writing - if I think it's going to be too difficult. It's pathetic, yes, I know. And why do I find writing a blogpost about certain opera performances difficult (not, actually, the five mentioned above)?

Because, quite often, there is often very little to say, other than "Yeah, I enjoyed it, it was okay, nothing special". I really ought to do more of those, because they are of value.

Not least to act as ballast to the ones where I write "It was absolutely amazing. A superb orchestral performance, great singing from convincing stage performers, a compelling tale blah blah blah" or "It was so shit I couldn't wait to escape at the interval".

I am not a professional musician in any sense, can't sing to save my life, can't play any musical instrument to any decent standard, didn't study music beyond O-Level. I can only report on my impressions. In any case, I write for me, not for an audience. And, of course, except on the rare occasion I disclose, I pay for my own ticket.

Argue with lasers: on Popes, cunts and Nazis

There are broadly three reasons for arguing - to support those on your side; to persuade the waverers, undecideds, don't knows and don't cares; and to dent the confidence of the opponent (or 'get one over').

Obviously, there's also verbal sparring, mind games etc, but that's a different branch of arguing.

There are good and bad ways of arguing, and the current Papal Visit to Britain has provided a reminder of this, in much the same way as the illegal invasion of Iraq did.

Pope Benedict XVI personally and as head of the RC Church is the target of much criticism. The charge sheet is long. For as long as I can remember, people have campaigned tirelessly on many of those issues. I can't claim to have 'campaigned', tirelessly or otherwise, but frequently on this blog and far more frequently elsewhere I have made my position abundantly clear.

The only way to argue is to do so rationally. To present logical arguments - if you allow/forbid x, then y happens, or to present evidence, or, at least, credible/verifiable illustrations.

Then we have the Papal Visit. In certain parts of the internet, he is alternatively, or simultaneously, a cunt and a Nazi. I find it astounding that people, often professional wordsmiths, choose to use the word 'cunt' when there are so many other accurate descriptions. I find it astounding that people who claim to understand the meaning and impact of language choose the word 'cunt' as a scattergun insult.

I think there is an element of exhibitionism "Look.at.me! I am so edgy, I use the word cunt, against all social taboos". A bit like a four-year-old boy using 'bottom' or 'willy' to shock. People living in middle-class enclaves, confident in their edginess as they mix only with other semi-educated pseudo-intellectuals, unaware of the usage of 'cunt' as a scattergun insult by the most violent of misogynists.

So it makes it doubly ironic to describe the Pope or his side-kicks as 'cunts'. It's an old-fashioned misogyny linked absolutely to theirs. It's the same mentality that forbids menstruating women from the sanctuary. Exactly the same line of thought that has concluded that it is wrong for Catholic priests to possess or enter female genitalia. Because female genitalia are the worst possible object in existence and nothing can be worse that having female genitalia. Except, being the personification of female genitalia. Sounds familiar, chaps?

And the Nazi slur? Two wrongs don't make a right. Joseph Ratzinger is more guilty than the lazy journalists that call him a 'Nazi' to look clever.

As a child, he was a member of the Hitler Youth. By all accounts, he had no choice in the matter. Pretty much like how I was forced to be a member of his church when I was young. Only, I was forced only by my parents and the schools they chose, rather than the unimaginable brutality of Nazi Germany. He later deserted from the Wehrmacht, and no one has ever been able to find any evidence that he was a Nazi. So why call him that?

His labelling atheists as Nazis is even more loathsome. He, of all people, ought to know better. But that really isn't a justification for unintelligent tit-for-tat name calling.

The purpose of opposing Joseph Ratzinger should begin with the essential misogyny, his and his Church's unequivocal hatred of women. In brief, this forbids the use of contraception in the developing world, contributing and exacerbating poverty.

For centuries in 'Christendom' women have been relegated to non-people:  chattels, the property of fathers and husbands; victims of forced marriages and consequent rape; or imprisonment for the crime of sexual intercourse while fertile (often by being raped); denied legal rights, voices, education and autonomy.

Even today, in a more pluralist and post-Reformation age, the essential misogyny of the Catholic Church and its local offshoot dominate far too much of our constitution and our statutes as well as how we behave as a society.

Out of this misogyny comes the other hateful behaviour, the homophobia that destroys lives; forbidding the use of condoms for prevention of HIV/AIDS - especially in parts of Africa where women and girls raped within marriage or by strangers are condemned to death at the hands of Benedict XVI and his predecessor; the desire to regulate the personal emotional and sexual lives of people who do not subscribe to their views.

Some of the people who complain about the pope do so specifically on the grounds on the cover-up of the child abuse by his employees. They are right to do so, and I have done so.

Intelligent people recognise that the nub of the matter is the 'cover up', because, sadly, the acts occur in so many settings.

I can be cynical and say, also - and I blame the media for this - paedophilia is characterised as the sexual assault of under-age boys. It might be that in the case of the Catholic Church, most of the well-publicised cases have been on boys, because of structural and institutional issues.

But in wider society, certainly, in the West, most cases of adult-child sexual assault are on girls. Subconsciously, this is deemed less newsworthy. Perhaps because girls obviously reach physical maturity before the standard ages of consent, but just because they are seen, again, at a subconscious level, as being 'fair game', 'normal' objects of sexual predatory, the property of men - fathers, husbands, strangers, there to serve men.

These are extremely serious charges that have been dismissed by Joseph Ratzinger and his predecessor and their colleagues as trivial. They are far more serious than being a young conscript to Nazism, and they are totally morally wrong in a way that female genitalia are never wrong.

I don't suppose this blogpost will convert one Papist apologist. I hope it persuades some waverers or 'don't-knows'. I want to offer my support to the tireless campaigners against institutionalised misogyny and its evil impact. But for those jumping on the latest bandwaggon to sling out ill-judged insults, in order to look cool among their peers, meh.

links 09/13/2010

• Domingo revive a Neruda -

  He's shaved off the beard, presumably for this role. I prefer him with beard

  tags: placi

• Plácido Domingo encabeza en Los Ángeles el desfile por el Bicentenario de México

  tags: placi

• Mexican Bicentennial Independence Day Parade, in Los Angeles

  Grand Marshal, Spanish tenor and conductor Placido Domingo waves to the crowd with his granddaughter Nicole, during the East L.A. Mexican Bicentennial Independence Day Parade, in Los Angeles on Sunday Sept.12,2010

  tags: placi

• Domingo's LA Opera future still up in the air

  tags: placi

• Olivia de Havilland and Joan Fontaine: Their nine-decade feud | Mail Online

  I had no idea either of them was still alive!

  Terrible how parents fuck their children's lives up.

• Katherine Jenkins has a gusty Marilyn Monroe moment at boat show launch | Mail Online

  Increasingly desperate stunts for free publicity. Tacky tacky tacky

  tags: warbling-barbie

• Placido Domingo to lead L.A. Opera's 'Il Postino' while in talks to go on leading L.A. Opera | Culture Monster | Los Angeles Times

  I love the photo!

  tags: placi

• Latino celebs unite for All-Star charity single

  tags: placi

• Katherine Jenkins: 'I didn't think I could act' - Digital Spy

  "I've not done any acting before, so I wasn't sure if I even could" said self-styled opera singer Katherine Jenkins

  tags: warbling-barbie

• Latin Stars Unite For City Of Hope

  Plácido Domingo and Los Angeles mayor Antonio Villarraigosa were among the VIPs who attended the official launch of "La Gota de la Vida" (The Drop of Life), the song and video recorded by 46 Latin stars -- including Enrique Iglesias, Gloria Estefan, Luis Fonsi and Domingo -- to benefit the City of Hope and its outreach programs to the Latin community.

  tags: placi

• LSO Live to release first Otello on disc from Sir Colin Davis

  Excellent! I look forward to this recording of a memorable performance!

  tags: gerald verdi

Posted from Diigo. The rest of my favorite links are here.

Chloe, The Women and Not the Last Night of the Proms (Part 2)

Not being in the mood for the jingoistic Last Night of the Proms and being in the throes of an attack of CFS-induced-CBA, I needed something fairly mindless to watch on the TV. A filum, I thought, and found two that didn't include any of aliens, shootouts*, American soldiers saving the world from Moslems, thin-plot-barely-justified-by-CGI & all the other elements that make up most of the film content on TV.

I didn't have high expectations of either film, and they didn't disappoint. 

*SPOILER ALERT*

I actually enjoyed The Women more but know that Chloe was the better film, Chloe suffered from being aimed at a North American market. It has been described as sexually graphic - it wasn't, it carries a 15 classification in the UK - and erotically charged - only up to  a point.

The basic premise of the film was a good one but too thin to hang an entire film on. I wish there had been more exploration of the relationship between the two female characters. Perhaps that is just a bi-product of my own sexuality (I am totally happy to acknowledge my own partial bi-sexuality - I enjoy female-female erotica but have never sought a female-female sexual encounter or relationship). I just don't think that Julianne Moore could have had a one night stand with Amanda Seyfried and then just gone back to being entirely hetero. I also found Amanda Seyfried's character troublesome.

She was a sex worker and conveniently drop-dead gorgeous. There didn't seem to be any clear reason why she was a sex worker, no drug habit for example. They attempted to use her dishonesty and slight obsessiveness to hint at mental ill health, but that just seemed like the normal (ish) behaviour of a normal person consumed by a passing crush. There was no hints at emotional scarring or the characteristic brittleness of sex workers. So she was this female character who served a purpose in the plot but wasn't a whole person with a real life, as opposed to Julianne Moore and Liam Neeson who lived rounded lives with jobs, friends, a son, marital disharmony and so on. It was slightly odd that Neeson's character was ostensibly a professor of music, but the only diegetic music was so mainstream as to be ClassicFM-lite. And other than lecturing in music and attending a couple of concerts, music didn't seem to be of any importance to him.

The performances from the three main leads were convincing, the settings were obviously well chosen, and shot with some fairly good cinematography, but there were wasted opportunities for  some more self-consciously gorgeous lingering shots of scenery and interiors, perhaps combined with some thoughtful music.

I felt this was a reasonably good film with the potential to be very good. At times they captured well the erotic tension, often by understatement and by not making it particularly graphic. But it was obvious they were trying to avoid shots that would invoke the wrath of the censor, and that made it clumsy. It attempted to portray the psychology of the main protagonists but only succeeded partially. It has whetted my appetite to see the French film Nathalie from which it was adapted which I suspect will be more satisfying both erotically and psychologically.

Liam Neeson was his usual handsome self, Julianne Moore was satisfactory in her role, but the real star was Amanda Seyfried, whose understated acting create an irresistible aura around her.

This film is currently available in the UK on Sky Box Office, and, presumably also Pay Per view from other providers.

* actually several of my favourite films include shoot-outs: Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, Pulp Fiction, In Brussels, and Sound of Music. But they have to be done well!

Chloe, The Women and Not the Last Night of the Proms (Part 1)

I was in a spectacularly bad mood yesterday. Not angry, but unbelievably demotivated and de-energised. Or, unbelievable for non-spoonies, but hey!

There wasn't much on TV. An exception being the Last Night of the Proms. Ugh. For two months over the summer, the BBC sponsors a series of 80+ concerts covering a wide variety of non-commercial music. By non-commercial I mean music that isn't recorded, performed and marketed with the main purpose of producing profits for the record and other companies. Of course, these non-commercial forms of music have to provide a living for those who make it and cover the associated costs.

The Proms are funded largely from the television licence but few are shown on TV. All concerts are broadcast live on Radio 3; 3 or 4 concerts a week - barely a third -  are shown live, delayed or recorded on BBC2 or BBC4. For as long as I can remember, the second half of the Last Night has been broadcast on BBC1, traditionally between Casualty and News-followed-by-Match of the Day.

For some reason, even in this age of remote controls, and time shift and on-demand TV, it seems to matter which channel a programme is on. I find this attitude intensely paternalistic to the point of being patronising.The first half, which often contains some decent music, being shown on BBC2 and the second half, which never contains anything of musical value, being shown on BBC1, is just ugly.

The consequence of this is that the numerous people who more or less define "TV" as what's on BBC1 and ITV1 actually think 'The Proms' are entirely about the vomit-inducing Last Night*. One would have thought that the phrase 'Last Night' would have been a clue, but obviously not.

Of course, I realise that, as with most things, many people don't pursue the thought any further and so it doesn't matter. 

However, there are people who see the phrase 'Last Night of the Proms' and, rather than asking 'Are there other nights?' decide to go into an ill-informed, ignorant rant. It's a bit like when I decided to condemn the Edinburgh Festival as being a militaristic glorifying of slaughter that rode roughshod over the millions of people thrown into poverty by Thatcher. I was thirteen, so can be forgiven for thinking that the televised Edinburgh Military Tattoo was synonymous with the Edinburgh Festival.

I sometimes enjoy the LNoftP, generally the first half more than the second. It depends a lot on the programme, and to a large extent on the singing soloist. I wasn't drawn by the programme and as the week and the day wore on, so did the realisation that I don't actually like Renée Fleming. I didn't see her star turn before the interval, but I ended up catching her in all her awfulness screeching her way unmusically through Rule Britannia, which is awful enough to start with.

Ah, Rule Britannia...

Every year, the unimaginative right-wingers roll out some trite cliché about patriotism, without ever expanding on what patriotism means. Something about being proud to be British, without giving any reason why.

I think it may be something about being born somewhere in or near a geographical area whose temperate climate and helpful geology allowed people several hundred years ago to do more than just subsistence farming (same also goes for Northern France, much of Germany, the Low Countries and areas of Central Europe).

This freed up time to pursue other activities such as philosophy and engineering which contributed to the society which exists now for these non-philosophers/non-engineers to demonstrate their superiority to people in arid or cold climates whose ancestors struggled to eke out a living against the odds. Yeah, makes me well proud!

Even worse, is the caricature that is televised. The television cameras focus almost exclusively on a small number of people at the front of the arena and an even smaller number in the Grand Tier boxes. I don't have a clue who these people actually are or what they do with their lives, but the mind-numbingly dull repetitiveness of showing the same apparently upper-class twits year after year hammers a home a message that is clear to most non-attendants and is totally at odds with the purpose and reality of the Proms - *This is not for you*.

It doesn't matter how often Nicholas Kenyon/ Roger Wright or Uncle Tom Cobbley talk about the cheapness of tickets and 'accessibility', the one image that the BBC unleashes on the mass undiscriminating audience is 'This is for a small number of social inadequates whose parental money has bought them into a world we don't want you to share'.

I think it's truly horrible. It puts people off going to 'The Proms' because they get anxiety attacks about 'dress code'. For every other Prom, the Dress Code is...whatever. (I tend to favour light cotton trousers and an equally light cotton top, and usually take a cardigan for when I'm waiting at bus stops afterwards;  people in evening dress tend to stick out like sore thumbs). The perception is of a club, where admission is only if you fit the bill. The reality is far from that.

Even more depressing is that it is the same music - more or less - year after year. Throw in a couple of pieces, and then go through the same old tired old routine. And this is basically the only music of any genre that gets performed on 'Prime Time' BBC1 nowadays (apart from lip-synching to a pre-recorded track for the chat shows and other commercial advertising slots that a small selection of mainstream commercial pop/rock artists are permitted to do).

Any suggestion by someone to change the format would be met with howls of outrage. As I don't go to the Last Night party, I have no right to intrude on other people's fun. It's a tradition that's been done for years so must continue to be done because it's a tradition that's been done for years. I'm ashamed to be British. I don't have to watch it. 

I am probably 'quite posh'. Both my parents are graduates and I grew up in one of the most prosperous areas of the country***. I went to a Grammar School and onto a 'Russell Group' University filled with Oxbridge rejects. I passed my twenties working for an organisation that characteristically recruited people of a remarkably similar background.  I don't feel the urge to adopt an artificial strained accent or dress in a certain way in order to project my imagined superiority, but, otherwise, I think I fit neatly into 'quite posh'. I find the image of the Last Night repulsive and alienating, a club to which I don't wish to belong, so I can only imagine how it comes across to many other people. 

This year I only watched about twenty minutes, which was really twenty minutes too much, in between some reasonably good but hardly memorable films.

*Back in July, a conversation with someone who had obtained tickets somewhat at the last minute for the Simon Boccanegra Prom inspired a comment form someone who said they 'always' go to 'Last Night of the Proms' of their local garden centre, or whatever. It was the wrong context for me to reply what I was thinking 'You think I care?' or to attempt a tedious explanation of the significance (for us) of Simon Boccanegra.

**I'm not even sure what bits of British I am. I clearly include Irish; there is a my bogus claim to Polynesian (because of my ancestor who was born the daughter of ex-convicts on Norfolk Island); and family myth and legend includes French Hugenots and Spanish Armada. Recent TV viewing has led me to wonder if there is traceable Norman or Anglo-Saxon. I would love to do a DNA test that can indicate whether this is so. Or indeed if they can actually identify any pre-Saxon or pre-Roman Britishness by DNA! It would help me determine whether or not I'm British and thus, how 'proud' I ought to be.

*** Altrincham & Sale West invariably features in the top ten of the most prosperous Parliamentary constituencies

Right Royal (Opera) Retraction

It is pleasing to note that The Royal Opera House has issued a statement regarding its bullying of Intermezzo. They have published it as a bit.ly, and being a .pdf, it opens on my PC without a full permalink. (It also seems I can't copy and paste without ending up with bizarre symbols, but that might just be my set-up).

I do note that they seem to announce a change of policy: they state they are 'happy to provide approved imagery to the media including blogs', which they never have been previously willing to do, so I shall be testing this after the weekend!

My re-reading of this is that their actual complaint was about publishing the set designs for forthcoming productions of Tannhauser and Adriana Lecouvreur, which I fully acknowledge raises a different set of questions from those posed by the publishing of slightly illicit curtain call photos permitted by custom and practice. However, the drafting of the correspondence did not make this at all clear.

Much more important is the high-handed and threatening way in which they handled this matter. There are too many examples of how the Royal Opera House treats many of its customers with disdain, or just in very unprofessionally - a comment on Intermezzo from someone who called the Friends' office

a very angry lady interrupted me 9 times in our conversation, shouted at me, and hung up....

Rather typical attitude from the Village Hall Flower Arranging Committee™ I feel.

I hope that the Royal Opera House learns from this episode, that the customer is never the enemy and for their sort of organisation is genuinely a friend, if not necessarily a 'Friend'. All publicly funded organisations are under threat of being slashed; Arts organisations in particular; now is not the time to annoy articulate and passionate customers. I reviewed my blog stats today, especially people visiting my main post on the matter, whether clicking through from Intermezzo or coming independently. I was struck by the wide range of universities, prestigious companies, and well-known charities. Behind the innocuous commercial and masked IP addresses are numerous individuals well able to form their own conclusions.

In breach of copyright

I posted this photo of Plácido Domingo, amongst others, on this blog about 6 weeks ago. It was taken within the Royal Opera House, from the front row of the Stalls. I took it at the curtain call at the end of the final performance of Simon Boccanegra.

The programme etc - though not the tickets - and public announcements say that photography is 'strictly forbidden'. Custom and practice, and unsolicited advice from door staff, is that it is strictly forbidden until the curtain calls. As this photo includes a costume designed and made by an ROH staff member or contractor, this photo falls within copyright law.

However, I published this and other photos at the time in good faith under the 'fair use' exemptions to copyright law. At the time I was criticising - in an almost entirely positive way, as it happens - the several performances of Simon Boccanegra which I attended this summer -  I am republishing as part of my commentary on what I see as harassment of my sister-in-blogging, Intermezzo

Furthermore, I have been publishing similar photos on this blog and its predecessor "Mad Musings of Me" since 2004, taken in the Royal Opera House, Hammersmith Apollo, the Barbican, Royal Festival Hall, Royal Albert Hall, English National Opera (although they state on their tickets it is forbidden and I was specifically asked by a steward to stop), The Point Dublin, Teatro Real Madrid, Liceu Barcelona,  Palau de les Arts Reina Sofia Valencia and Le Chatelet Paris. Many are collected in my photo album Performance (which needs updating).

I am publishing this blogpost in solidarity with Intermezzo and call on other bloggers to do likewise.

Quango-funded Arts Org bullies solitary blogger

Last night, Intermezzo posted the following on her blog

Without Prejudice - why all the Royal Opera House posts have disappeared

I was too tired last night to attempt a coherent analysis. 

In a nutshell, the Royal Opera House's somewhat illiterate legal bod has written to Intermezzo instructing her to remove from her blog photographs for which the Royal Opera House holds copyright, and threatening to bar her from the House and instruct her hosting provider to delete her blog.

I support copyright law and think it is extremely important that people get the credit and income for their work. I despise pirates who make money from selling illicit copies of products and thus depriving the artists and other workers of income from legitimate commercial routes.

But Intermezzo hasn't done that! Copyright law is very clear about 'fair use', specifying how much can be reproduced as criticism and comment, and as far as I can see, that is exactly what Intermezzo has done.

In my experience the Royal Opera House is slow (I'm being kind) about the personal internet. On the one hand it seems to give out free tickets willy-nilly to anyone happy to toe the party line  - and presumably will withhold them if their reviews are habitually insufficiently fawning - as long as they can prove they have a fanzine*. However, they won't co-operate with anyone who isn't in their club. Requests for Press Releases and authorised Press photos go unanswered. They clearly can't cope with people expressing opinions they cannot control!

Several people have left comments on the blogpost saying how her writings have encouraged them to go to the Royal Opera House or another similar venue. I think it is impossible to measure the impact that blogs and other 'social network' tools have on ticket sales.

Perhaps a lot of the impact is incremental: someone who was in two minds to go may be encouraged to go. Someone who would attend maybe 6 times a year yearning for more involvement, people turning virtual networking into Real Life plans to meet up and become friends. Of course, bad reviews may also deter the undecided, but I doubt that one bad review can be so influential; when a production gets many bad reviews it's probably wise not to blame the reviewers.

A great rule of thumb in life, and especially in anything legalistic is to consider the question of 'proportionality'. I cannot see any financial detriment to the ROH or financial gain** to Intermezzo from her blog nor specifically from casual use of ROH images.

They have threatened to have her blog shut down, which they probably can do if they have a sufficiently persuasive case - but that wouldn't prevent her re-starting it elsewhere, although I'm sure she has better things to do than play a tiresome game of cat-and-mouse, in her leisure time, against a multi-million pound organisation big enough to employ lawyers.

It made me laugh, though, when they threatened to bar her. Of course they do and must retain the right to refuse admission to people, and I expect from time to time they exercise it. I would imagine that this is largely for anti-social threatening or violent behaviour, and that has to be a good thing. I don't think it gives them the moral right to threaten someone capriciously.

I don't know who Intermezzo is and no one I have mentioned her to does either. I use 'her' because I have a sense this is the correct pronoun, perhaps I have a vague memory of some comment about the Ladies loos. I have occasionally tried to work out which person at a venue might be her and then later looked at her photos to confirm my guess (I've been wrong every time).

I assume that she has good reason to remain anonymous, probably work-related. For all I know, she could be the Press contact for a charity, a head-teacher, or someone else who can't afford to mix her work and leisure personae. That's entirely understandable. I know the ROH could probably obtain her details from the blog hosts. I'm not sure whether they, being American, would know they are potentially committing a criminal offence by releasing it without good reason. But that wouldn't actually prevent her attending the Royal Opera House by buying tickets via a RL friend, or in cash, or whatever.

I hope that this incident doesn't stop Intermezzo from attending the ROH, because her love of opera should transcend the stupidity of one petty flunky. Unfortunately, the ROH admin seems riddled with people who think they are running the Village Hall Flower Arranging Committee™ rather than a multi-million pound global brand. But no one should let those bungling bureaucrats destroy their enjoyment of great great music performed by often amazing artists. In a time of Austerity, and during what my Union Branch Chair has dubbed the Comprehensive Sacking Review, publicly funded organisations should be actively working to maintain the goodwill of all their friends.

Further views:

Royal Opera House loses the plot (and some grammar and spelling)

Hunting Good Will, Not

In which the Whingers support 100% the Royal Opera House clamping down on copyright infringement

To be honest, we think that hanging would be too good for intermezzo. Broken Britain we say.

Digging a hole at Covent Garden

* My professional and ethics standards - I'm a member of CIPFA and contractually obliged to adhere to IIA's standards - forbid me from taking anything that could be perceived as compromising my independence. In practice, I'd be unlikely to be disciplined for something separate from my paid work, but it would be a technical breach of these standards to accept gifts from publicly-funded bodies. And I wouldn't wish people to think I was so easily bought.

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Rigoletto, Live from Mantua, on the TV

I enjoyed this tremendously. I really can't be bothered with the opinions of people who decided months ago it was a certain failure and have set out to prove that it was. Certainly not the half-witted self-appointed opera 'experts' who claim that the opera has 4 Acts.

I believe that opera is primarily an entertainment, and it entertained me greatly. Obviously, if one sits here and lists all the flaws - inevitable in a live performance, televised or otherwise - it will show one to be so very knowledgeable and on a higher intellectual plane than others.

That isn't to say I didn't have my doubts. I didn't especially enjoy Act I Scene 1, and I thought in general that in Act I there was a failure to utilise the no doubt sumptuous scenery. Far too many close-up shots: to have some is useful, but it might as well have been recorded in a bland studio, Act II I thought was outstanding, managing to highlight all the very best bits and thoroughly execute the idea. Act III I found a bit distracting, and judging by the tweets I later read, I wasn't alone. I was distracted by how they were going to stage the storm, and then found it slightly ludicrous to have unsubtle flashes periodically illuminating their faces. I thought the traditional exchange of the sacks was badly handled. I don't think they always matched up the volume mixing to the camera distance - for example, when the camera was outside Sparafucile's place filming a distant Duke, his voice sounded miked close-up.

I think a lot of people see something like this on TV and compare it to a theoretical performance combining singers from quite different eras. I can't say I have ever seen a 'perfect' cast n any opera, I think all we can hope for is some excellence and none below adequate.

I didn't sit & Tweet incessantly, because that would have been sad and I would have missed the opera, but here is a selection of what I did write:

  

I can't see the point of filming this in the *actual* locations in Mantua if all the visuals are extreme close-ups of the singers

Okay, I take that back - partly: nice long shot of Gilda in the garden!

Bravo @VittorioGrigolo

Ah, into the heart of Verdi's best singalonga oom-pah music! Love it:-)

What beautiful acoustics in that room! Placido's voice has such gorgeous resonance

RT @Lucrezia_G: CORRRRTIGIANI, VIL RRRAZZA DANNATA! http://yfrog.com/ngzuuvj

Really wonderful, ramping up the drama; some gorgeous scenery shots. Splendid ( - forgive Julia Novikova's scream at the end)

RT @mystic_cat: Placido, this is another awesome incarnation! We want to see you in this role on stage! <<< Agreed!

RT @jessicaduchen: Hooked on Rigoletto from Mantua. Domingo is amazing - a devastating performance...

Oh dear! I blubbered just a bit during #rigoletto Act III, though I thought that the staging/special effects were a bit contrived.

Though weird that it seemed *more* contrived than on stage #rigoletto. Overall, despite some drawbacks, I thought it splendid 

That chap who sang #rigoletto seemed pretty good! I'd like to see him in other roles, too...

RT @RestrictedView: @Gert Sadly I hear he has a really limited repertoire or something. Only knows like 2 baritone roles.

I thought that Plácido personified Rigoletto splendidly. I appreciated the change between the snarling, angry - frustrated - court jester and the tender over-protective father. I was moved by the ending of the final scene when he is so utterly in despair.

Vocally, I wasn't sure. I think there was a lot to praise, but I was also conscious of there being some aspects that weren't so. I could sit down and watch the video over and again and spot flaws. I'm also blessed with an extraordinary inability to hear someone sing a role and think "They don't sound like so-and-so singing it". It's not that I lack discernment but I tend to get into the moment and judge something on its own merits, as if I'm hearing it anew.
Also my TV is being a bit annoying at the moment; it may only need a new Scart, but I spent a lot of the time fiddling with the audio settings, and a few other people have commented on mixing levels, so I'm not sure whether I can draw meaningful conclusions from the evidence of my ears.

As I said about Simon Boccanegra, I love seeing and hearing Plácido in this, I believe he brings something very special to the role, but I miss the velvety chocolate sound of his voice, not just in his prime, but in his recent tenorial roles. I won't be upset if it doesn't bring this role to the stage, but if he does (locally), of course I'll go and see him - and don't really care if the naysayers don't - it's not like getting tickets for Plácido is easy. Stay away, be purists or prophets of doom, nobody else values your opinion.

As for the rest of the cast. I enjoyed Vittorio Grigolo, and do find him an exciting singer. He seemed a natural for the Duke, but although I have no specific criticisms of his performance I don't think he brought any great insights to a role that, admittedly, is not deep. I thought Julia Novakova was fine-ish. She looked like Gilda, I think, and for quite a lot of time she sounded okay, although there was never a wow moment. And although I said I'd forgive her the scream at the end of Act II, I'm not sure I will. I absolutely hate it when sopranos do that, and I don't tend to feel very disposed to them.

Nino Machaidze and Ruggero Raimondi were both class acts, although obviously in supporting roles. 

Also, I don't really know what to say about the orchestra/conducting. It would have been too much to expect great musical insights and delicacy, so I wasn't disappointed. It was perfectly adequate accompanying; if I'd heard it played like that in the opera house I would have been disappointed.

And, finally, the production. It was ultra ultra conservative, and offered no real insight into the inner psychology. I thought the opening scene was a joke, some tame country dance straight out of a pre-watershed Jane Austen dramatisation. There was no real hint of menace, no clue as to how debauched the Duke's court was, very vanilla and tame. I suppose the directorial conceit was using the 'actual' locations (although as several people have pointed out, Mantua was only adopted to escape the censor's wrath; the libretto was adapted from Victor Hugo's Le roi s'amuse, which I assume was set at Versailles, certainly in France, it's perhaps a conceit too far.

Still, it made for good TV, and, actually, that really is what matters!