Gertsamtkunstwerk

Simon Boccanegra preview

Unfortunately, the Royal Opera House has been scrupulously rationing tickets for Simon Boccanegra, so I was unable to attend the Friends Open Rehearsal yesterday. Of course, it's fair that they did ration them, but, still...In any case it means that my preview round-up is not too late!

Placido Domingo: one of history's greatest

He may be pushing 70, but tenor Placido Domingo shows little sign of slowing down. Rupert Christiansen looks back over his extraordinary career as he prepares to sing baritone at Covent Garden for the first time

Placido Domingo's finest moments

The high points in the great tenor's career.

Placido Domingo: 'If I rest, I rust'

Placido Domingo is the best-known, and best-loved, tenor in the world. Next week he makes his Covent Garden debut as a baritone. He may sound different but he's still the hottest ticket in town, says Jessica Duchen

Contrary to what has been rumoured round the internet, he did not announce his intention to retire from singing before next January

An artist as complete as Domingo appears once in a generation. And a good part of it is about his personal charisma. Domingo has about him an exceptional atmosphere – call it an aura, if you like – that seems to affect the air of whatever stage or room he's in. It's not only that he looks taller than he really is (he does), or that you can't quite believe you're facing the real McCoy in person; everything near him begins to function with extra intensity and focus.

But with Domingo there's something extra: a warmth, generosity and solidity that suggests not only a great heart but a strong and sensible mind. You don't only admire him; you trust him. What comes first, the artistry or the man? I'd like to think that, indivisibly, they fuel one another.

Short clip from Floral Street yesterday after the Dress Rehearsal: Plácido Domingo's busy days.

Interview with Joseph Calleja, who sings Gabriele Adorno.

 

Siegmund in Los Angeles

Apologies for this very belated round-up of links. I have lots of excuses for being a lazy blogger, but, whatever!

'Die Walküre' and the shifting sands of dramatic restraint

Plácido Domingo’s Siegmund and Linda Watson’s Brünnhilde surged magnificently

OVERNIGHT REVIEW: Los Angeles Opera's "Die Walküre" at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion

For many in attendance last night, part of the attraction of this Die Walküre was that that the role of Siegmund was being sung by Plácido Domingo and he didn’t disappoint. Although there were a few moments of strain, he gave a remarkably sensitive and powerful portrayal, especially notable given that (a) he’s 69 years old and (b) less than three months ago underwent surgery for a localized malignant polyp in his colon. Domingo seemed to gather strength as the evening wore on; he was particularly impressive during the lengthy second act.

Whilst Los Angeles Opera was staging the Ring, they were also hosting the annual conference of 'Opera America'

Pearls from Placido

one of the general sessions at the Opera America Conference was "A Conversation with Placido Domingo."

On the future:

"I still feel that I can sing, so I don't want to retire." (This received hearty applause from the audience.)

The secret to longevity:

"Always searching for new roles...it has been the itch to keep searching that has made my career very interesting."

Photograph from El Museo del Barrio gala on 27 May

 

(I much prefer him with beard)

Brief report (in Spanish): Plácido Domingo homenajeado en Nueva York

Fete Accompli | El Museo del Barrio Gala

“Marta and I have been married 48 years now. When I ask her how it’s been, she says, ‘It was like 5 minutes … underwater.’ “  — Plácido Domingo deadpanned.

(Lovely though he is, he must be a nightmare to be married to!)

Simon Boccanegra Insight Evening

Insight evenings are really ace. They are a really good way to learn more about an opera you've booked to see. I must admit, when I first learned of their existence, I was sceptical as to whether they were for me. I have an aversion to formal learning these days, and often feel myself coming over all teenagery as soon as I'm cooped up in an overheated lecture theatre ballet studio. But I've been to a few now at the ROH, and have always come away feeling I have been entertained and educated. What really strikes me is the relaxed informal atmosphere, the evening punctuated by much laughter.

They follow a fairly set formula although no two are alike. Lecture by an academic expert, a round-table of key personnel, singers, sometimes the conductor or the director, and a short demonstration of one musical motif.

Last night the lecturer was Sarah Lenton. She gave an excellent talk about the history behind the composition of Simon Boccanegra, or, rather, about its 1881 revision by Verdi. Actors read excerpts from letters of Verdi himself, Giuseppina Mrs Verdi and other important characters such as Boito and Ricordi. This was assisted by a slide show, including photographs. She rounded off the lecture by drawing some parallels with Shakespeare. To some extent I could see the point she was trying to make, but perhaps the less I say about my incapacity to embrace Shakespeare, the better. Nevertheless, my knowledge advanced.

The round-table is always a popular item. It can be a good opportunity to see the singers etc in a more informal setting, to hear about their understanding of their characters and how the production is developing in rehearsal. They don't announce in advance who is due to appear, obviously it depends who is available - for example, Tony Pappano, who'll be conducting Simon Boccanegra was otherwise engaged conducting the opening night of Manon.

A programme was handed out beforehand. I took a quick look and saw that the panel was due to consist of Elijah Moshinsky, the director, and singers Marina Poplavskaya, Ferruccio Furlanetto and Joseph Calleja (aka @MalteseTenor).

Okay, I have to admit it, I was a tad disappointed. I had hoped that possibly Plácido Doming might also be there, although of course I knew I had no right to expect him. I would be a very sad person to book these evenings solely on the off-chance that a favourite singer would appear. And in any case, look at that roll-call of names  - talk about star-studded! 

Once we were all settled in the Clore Studio Upstairs, the chap who was hosting/moderating explained that there would be a change in the usual running order, but he was sure that we would understand. He asked us to welcome the panel, listing them by name as I listed above. And then he said "And...Plácido Domingo..."

As you can imagine, several people in the room erupted with expressions of delight. I didn't, actually. I think I didn't quite believe my ears. And even when I saw him, I had to pinch myself that I wasn't dreaming! It took me a couple of minutes to really appreciate that he was there, sitting directly in front of me (I was in the third row but with clear uninterrupted view to the front).

The evening started at 7.30 pm and he left just after eight. Had to be somewhere, I assume.

I thought he was looking good. I've seen some photos recently when he didn't look so good, but there, in the flesh, in front of me, he looked rugged and relaxed. He seemed on good form, being expansive in his answers.

He started by saying that it was good to be back in London after two years - that he had intended to be here in March, "sorry". He explained that he had intended to sing Simon as a farewell role at the end of his career, and that he doesn't pretend to be a baritone - he is a tenor and sung Siegmund (on Sunday) in Los Angeles. And he made it perfectly clear he has no plans to retire just yet.

Much of the discussion was about What makes a good Verdi singer? and very much about the motivation behind the characters in the opera. Plácido was fulsome in his praise for his fellow cast members and for Tony Pappano, and Joseph Calleja was full of praise for Plácido, remarking that, as a tenor, when he was in Operalia, he never dreamed that he would perform alongside Plácido.

The discussion continued after Plácido left, and there were a few questions from the audience. One woman said that, after listening to a recording of Simon Boccanegra she found it impossible to sleep, and how did the singers switch off. Marina Poplavskaya said it was much the same for the singers, which is why they like to have the next day off. She then clarified "We drrrrink" (bear in mind she has a noticeable Russian accent), "and we go to bed at 7 and wake up at 1, unless we're Plácido, who'll be in New York by 3". To considerable laughter!

I have to say that, overall, it wasn't the most interesting Insight Evening I've been to. For me, the highlight was seeing Plácido. Even so, I don't think he said much I haven't heard or read him say before. He did explain that, as a tenor, the first thing he does in the morning is make sure his voice is sounding light, but because he's singing this role, he has to make sure he has the darker colours in the voice - and he demonstrated what he meant, by singing, briefly. So that was nice.

But it's just a prelude to the performances, which I'm looking forward to, although I haven't managed to score tickets for every performance - for example, I have decided to take the attitude that attending the Friends' Rehearsal on Saturday would merely be slumming it!

On being patronised

I have a major bugbear. I hate being patronised. It's mildly irritating when it's done by someone who genuinely knows more about the subject than I do. It is very irritating when it comes from someone who mistakes levity/humour for seriousness of intent (obviously, I do question whether my humour actually comes over as funny as I thought it did).

But what really annoys me is when somebody with very little experience where I have some experience and/or expertise takes it upon themself to tell me what to do.

And I really want to get something off my chest that has been bugging me since Election Day.

In the evening, I'm going round 'knocking up' people who have previously said they are Labour supporters. It's an age-old election day practice of all parties. The main purpose is to persuade people to actually go out and cast their vote. Like all doorstep activity, it's important not to waste arguing the toss or pushing against an immoveable object. On the other hand, it's my time freely given, and it's something I'm doing to my neighbours, people I have to live alongside on a daily basis perhaps for many years. And it's a common courtesy not to be rude.

So I knocked up a man who had actually voted whilst I was on Polling station duty in the morning. He said he had voted Labour and was by habit a Labour supporter, but he hadn't been entirely happy by some aspects of the Labour Government, for example the Iraq War. I commented that he wasn't alone. Suddenly a 'comrade', young and wet behind the ears, appeared alongside me and produced a spiel of campaigning spin, ignoring what the man had actually said, and then took me to task for expressing my personal opinions with an elector.

A bit later, we were working one road (so close to my house we're in the same Resident's Association) and some bloke - half-cut or half-deranged - starts yelling out of an upstairs window how we're bullying people to vote, we ought to be ashamed etc. This young man again tells me what to do - ignore him, which is exactly what I was doing, because, like, I have some life experience in dealing with random street ranters.

I quietly explained to the said young man that I was pretty experienced at campaigning, even though I had not been active in recent years, I had even served for eight years as a councillor, and I enjoy engaging with voters ie my neighbours person to person. To give the young chap his due, he listened and apologised, and I admire him for what he said.

But it's illustrative of a bigger point. I fully understand that teenagers know 'everything' and I make full allowance for that. But past teens, I expect people to be more circumspect and open-minded. I particularly dislike being dismissed or assumed to be ignorant.

Sometimes it happens benignly but more often it comes across as a sort of arrogance. I feel like I am being judged and diminished. It seems particularly to come from younger men. Certainly not all younger men, not by any means. I think it is a curious mixture of sexism, ageism and sizeism. I have this annoying, impossible-to-shift layer of fat and retained water round my stomach which makes me look very fat from front and side view. Particularly when tired, I show lines below my eyes and from the edge of my mouth. I'm female and not very tall, and find it difficult to wear heeled shoes for a long time.

And it annoys me like hell when young men talk to me assuming I am a complete ditz when it comes to politics and IT in particular, without having any evidence to support that. 

I know we all make snap judgements based on appearance, and if it's just on a passer-by, there's no harm done. But when people make lazy assumptions it's bloody annoying. It would be arch in the extreme to say "Don't you know I have qualifications in this and experience in that?" It's like a poster I saw when I used to attend KCH Rheumatology. A picture of an elderly woman saying 'My students used to call me Professor, please don't call me 'Dear'" or some such. I'm only 42 and it's already getting to me. Can't imagine how I'll feel in 20, 30 or 40 years time. 

I suppose it's an age-old cry that the young don't appreciate the wisdom of older people. No doubt I was guilty when I was younger and still am to almost half the population who are older than me. But it's incredibly important for young men to learn that 'middle-aged women' are often mentally acute, highly intelligent and very knowledgeable. When they show lack of interest in matters that are greatly important to you it might just be because they have 'been there and done it', or have different interests and priorities and are really not obliged to follow an agenda set by others.