Let's be clear here, they're not really reviews of Cyrano. I'm sure neither the New York times nor the New York Post would normally bother sending staff along to a performance towards the end of a run.
That Big Nose Is Back, and So Is the Voice That Goes With It
That Big Nose Is Back, and So Is the Voice That Goes With It
The hole in the middle of the Metropolitan Opera's recent revival of "Cyrano de Bergerac" has been filled. Franco Alfano's opera in Francesca Zambello's production was created last season as a vehicle meant to carry Plácido Domingo farther along his amazing route of twilight stardom. The title role sits well on his deepening tenor voice, and here was a chance to be a dashing swordsman, wear a long nose and act up a storm. A rarely performed piece with lovely music received exposure it is not used to.
But by opening night in January, Mr. Domingo had lost his voice. Evidently feeling unwell, he had been singing, it is said, when he shouldn't have. The rest of his body seemed to work acceptably, and he honored his conducting commitments for Verdi's "Rigoletto." Mr. Domingo returned to "Cyrano" as a singer on Wednesday evening.
Antonio Barasorda had replaced him at the first performance: an acceptable substitute in a difficult situation. The rush job visited on Mr. Barasorda was apparent, and the comparisons between him and the intended Cyrano were perhaps unfair, but unavoidable. As to Mr. Domingo on Wednesday, the deathwatch can disband. He sounded pretty much the singer and musician he continues to be at 65 (at least by his count).
There was little indication of apprehension or overcarefulness. The voice is full when it needs to be and subtle when it chooses. If we remember the Domingo sound with a little more shine and glow, we also remember his age and his still heavy schedule and can only wonder that he sounds as good as he does. He had a new Roxane opposite him, new at least to this season's revival. Cynthia Lawrence was a strong, sure soprano, if a little removed from the erotic passions of the piece.
Strong-Voiced Domingo Still Nose His Stuff
THERE was an unsung question hanging over the Metropolitan Opera House Wednesday night when Placido Domingo returned to give the first of three performances in Franco Alfano's "Cyrano de Bergerac."
Earlier, a throat ailment had forced him to cancel performances of both "Cyrano" and "Samson and Delilah." Would he still sound vocally under the weather?
No worries. The superstar tenor, looking and sounding far younger than his 65 years, was effortlessly at the top of his game, singing with a robust tone and that infinitude of emotional shadings we have over the years come to admire and expect.
The performance also showed another important aspect of Domingo's reign among opera's most-wanted: his willingness to use his clout to expand the operatic repertory, often moving away from the hack-worn and taking his audience to world premieres and lesser-known territory, such as Verdi's "Stiffelo."
Interestingly, although Domingo returns to the Met as a conductor next season, the only role he is due to sing is the Emperor in the world premiere of Tan Dun's "The First Emperor" in December.
Alfano's opera itself is certainly a rarity, but wonderfully worth hearing. Composed by the man best-known for completing the last act of Puccini's "Turandot" - and often maligned for that - its French libretto clings closely to Edmund Rostand's play.
It's a well-known story: Cyrano, a soldier/poet with the legendary huge nose, woos his beloved Roxane (a full-voiced and passionate Cynthia Lawrence) on behalf of his dimwitted but handsome friend Christian (the perhaps appropriately dull Fernando de la Mora).
The score, alertly and sensitively conducted by Marco Armiliato, is almost unexpectedly beautiful, with its underlying sense of full-blooded, 20th-century verismo Italian opera shot through with a shimmer of French impressionism that is both moving and beguiling.
Director Francesca Zambello, responsible for this season's over-fancified "An American Tragedy" and, more than a decade ago, an unforgettably awful "Lucia di Lammermoor," redeems herself here, with a delightfully unaffected production, featuring handsome sets by Peter J. Davison and costumes by Anita Yavich.
But face it: The audience had come for Domingo, and the tenor gave full value. He had in abundance - what was that Cyrano called it? - ah, yes: panache.
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