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Celebrating Plácido Domingo

Just about forty years ago, Plácido Domingo made his debut at the Royal Opera House, and to mark the occasion, he was engaged to appear for two celebration concerts, featuring one act from each of three Verdi operas. I felt very fortunate to have secured tickets for both events, and although the seats were not where I would have chosen to sit if I had been able to pick my seat before anyone else, I just felt such immense gratitude to be there.

I initially approved of the choice of three entire acts, rather than, for example, a variety show of numbers by whichever guest artists happened to be available - enjoyable though such evenings can be. And then as the time grew near, I wondered, would it work, wouldn't it seem disjointed. Perhaps I was anxious what the 'free ticket' critics would write, twisting it and making it to be something it wasn't, or vice versa.

Everyone I spoke to before during and after, whether in person or via the internet said or implied they were there primarily for one reason - to enjoy an evening featuring Plácido Domingo. People who travel to all sorts of places to see him perform; someone whose first outing to ROH was coincidentally during the run of the Toscas that marked Plácido's house debut and sees Plácido as a thread that has run constantly through his opera-going life; people who would not consider him their favourite singer but respect the major contribution he has made to the world of opera throughout my lifetime; and opera lovers who could not resist a performance of three dramatic acts by Verdi.

The three Acts were the final, death, acts of Otello, Rigoletto and Simon Boccanegra, the title roles in each case being sung by Plácido. The first, a tenor role that was his signature role for over quarter of a century; the last two, baritone roles he has only recently taken on. 

On both occasions, the overall impression of each act was powerful dramatically and musically. I won't deny that there were flaws. Perhaps I imagined it, but the Otello seemed relatively under-rehearsed - this work hasn't been performed at Covent Garden since 2005, whereas Rigoletto crops up more or less every other season and I found the orchestra to be more at ease. The singing from the 'supporting cast' was not perfect: they're human beings and it was live. There were singers I may have preferred in some of the roles, even without straying into Fantasy Casting, but all of them were commendable.

I never saw Plácido perform Otello although, of course, I have several versions on DVD and audio-only recordings, too. I imagine these are only poor substitutes for what he sounded like live in the house. I felt privileged to hear his Act 4, at least, and even more importantly to see, and feel, Otello's Death Scene.

Marina Poplavskaya was Desdemona and was neither the best nor worst I have heard. I know she tends to divide opinions; I like her voice very much, even when I hear approximations to pitch - the tone and colour delight me, and I welcome the absence of squawking/screeching. She is not the most convincing of stage actors, but comes across adequately well for an opera singer.

But I was waiting for that dramatic double-bass accompanied entrance by Otello, and I was not disappointed. (And no, I wasn't even tempted to 'tweet #wheresplacido He's here'. Oh no, not at all!).

To be honest, I was surprised to hear his voice sounding so tenorial, with a bright sound I almost didn't recognise. There would be no use pretending that the physical quality of the voice was in the same shape as it was at his peak, and, yet, that didn't matter to me. An utterly compelling performance of Otello in his last scene. Obviously he knows the production inside out (it is the same as captured on the 1992 DVD with Kiri Te Kanawa under Georg Solti) and his physical acting was convincing, terrifying and sad. I delighted in the final moments as he crawls towards Desdemona's bed, for 'ancora un baccio', but equally I delighted in the anguish and torment in his voice. I had thought it would be good to hear Domingo sing at least part of Otello simply for stamp-collecting-style bragging rights, but it was worthwhile because it moved me.

Next act was Rigoletto, using the long-running and current David McVicar production (available on DVD with Paolo Gavanelli, Marcelo Alvarez, Christine Schäfer under Edward Downes). I like the production overall, but did feel, from my seats several rows back in the central Amphitheatre that this act in particular is remarkably dark, making it difficult to see the principals from a distance.

The rest of the cast were of a reasonable standard. I especially liked Francesco Meli, a bright voiced youngish tenor playing the Duke, and was very impressed by Justina Gringyte as Maddalena. As for Plácido as Rigoletto? He was touching, and especially in the final scene, deeply moving. I'm not entirely convinced by Plácido in this role; at the same time, I have encountered a good few for whom the role sits more naturally in the voice but simply don't inhabit the character in the same way.

One of the most laughable comments I have ever seen written by those determined to denigrate Plácido is that he always plays the same character regardless of the role. Whilst I will acknowledge that, like most actors, he will draw on the same techniques and emotions to portray similar characters in similar circumstances, there was nothing about this Rigoletto that resembled Otello, other than grief at the death of a loved wife/daughter he murdered/inadvertently caused to be murdered.

His pathos in the final scene could not be described as mellifluous but it was beautiful and penetrating; projecting despair and regret. His voice was robust and unshaking whilst conveying emotional vulnerability. This is not a singer who needs to retire just yet.

My only hesitation is that Rigoletto as an opera has a habit of reducing me to tears, and this didn't happen. Not through any shortcoming in what was offered but because I had not experienced the emotional 'journey' of the preceding acts. But that was what was offered, and what I accepted, so not really a quibble, merely an observation.

The final act of the trilogy of Final Acts was Simon Boccanegra. I was privileged enough to see all performances - bar the Open Rehearsal - last summer and two further performances live from New York and Milan in the cinema. I was surprised that the production was different from last year. Better costumes; I needed to be reminded by others that it was the 'other' ROH Simon Boccangera production, that I had seen the previous year (but preferred to forget for various reasons). However, there was very little scenery, and almost no personenregie, so, in some ways a concert performance would have sufficed. There were several supporting members of cast - Poplavskaya and Meli as Amelia and Gabriel - but, Simon Boccanegra aside, the main supporting role was Paata Burchuladze (previously Lodovico and Sparafucile). He sounded better on Thursday than Sunday, and in truth, was adequate, but was the only role that left me actively wishing for a specific alternative singer.

But the star was, of course, Simon Boccanegra, and that was the highlight of my entire evening, from the faltering limping entry of a dying man to the final spectacular and lithe characteristic crashing to the ground in the final throes of death (how does he do it?). A strong physical interpretation of a pirate-turned Doge humble in death. More even than the physical performance was the vocal performance. I accept that although my seats were indifferent in terms of view they were in a good place acoustically, but, nevertheless I had to pinch myself to remember that this was live un-amplified singing with a fairly large orchestra into a sizable house. A firm secure warm voice, full of colour. Across the three acts I heard the chocolate and treacle tones, and maybe some Marmite too.

A fabulous and memorable performance of exactly what was billed - three single acts from three Verdi operas. So much more enjoyable than Puccini's Il Trittico I had witnessed last month. No doubt partly because I admire Plácido so very much, but also because Verdi's music conveys profoundly and sensitively human emotions that, irrespective of the time they were set (several centuries ago) are real and raw, surely, to anyone who has loved and has reason to regret. 

On both nights the applause at the final curtain call was enthusiastic, even boisterous, and, by normal ROH standards long (though very short compared to applause I have witnessed in Barcelona and Paris). there was stamping of feet, repeated calls for Plácido to return, and most startling was the visual cacophony of camera flashes bouncing round the auditorium.

Because of where I was sitting, my photos of the curtain calls were not great by any stretch of the imagination. Far better to direct you to lots of official photos on ROH's   Flickr page! 

PS I needed no prompting from others to find irritating the seemingly incessant coughing from various people all around the auditorium. I felt that at least some of it was psychological, seeming to crescendo just before important bits, such as just before Otello's entrance. And especially in the quiet orchestral bits, following the old adage - there can't be anything important going on because the orchestra playing quietly AND NO ONE'S SINGING. However, I also felt that otherwise I was surrounded on both nights by considerate people who knew how to behave. No talking, no messing with phones, no leaning forward to obstruct others' views. Even the unfortunate man behind me on Thursday night who dropped his walking sticks with a clatter did so before the music began, and the couple from the row in front who accidentally took mine and my neighbour's seat at the end of the second interval relinquished them with apologies. Most noticeable of all was that not one person 'bravoed' or applauded prematurely before the music ended, despite the falling of the curtain.

PPS After Sunday's performance I joined several dozen other people in narrow dark Floral Street to wait in hope of a fleeting encounter with Plácido. My feet were aching, standing there until about an hour and a half after leaving the auditorium. But the wait was worthwhile because, like many others, I got the chance to thank him for a wonderful performance and to have him sign a photo for my friend (I don't collect autographs). He thanked me! (What a sweetie!). I am profoundly grateful to Plácido for being so generous with his time after a long performance in which he spent a fair amount of time on the stage. To meet him, however fleetingly, is the icing on the cake and I never take for granted that he is patient beyond all reasonable expectations.

Reviews of Plácido Domingo celebration at Royal Opera House

I was there on Thursday night. I thoroughly enjoyed it, and will write it up in due course. I am also going again on Sunday!

I shall update this post if more (worthwhile) reviews are published!

A homage to a great who still gives it his all - Independent

Thankfully, the Royal Opera House chose to celebrate his career not with an evening of arias, duets and endless applause but with three acts from Verdi's most powerful works in which Domingo could – and did – show his commanding stage presence both as a tenor, in 'Otello', and as a baritone in 'Rigoletto' and 'Simon Boccanegro'.

He doesn't do tantrums and last minute illnesses. What he does do is totally committed performance. Last night he did it again. An evening as much of Verdi's music as the singing, driven (we are lucky to have him) by Antonio Pappano's tremendous feel for drama in music as conductor. But, in the end, the occasion was an act of homage to a man who, even at 70, still gives us his all.

Placido Domingo Celebration, Covent Garden - review (Evening Standard)

Domingo could have come on and recited the Royal Opera's health & safety regulations and still commanded the standing ovation he received last night.

Plácido Domingo Celebration – review - Guardian

Plácido Domingo Celebration - The Stage

Vocally he is a marvel for his 70 years, though this particular selection gave him little chance to prove it

 Slideshow from Reuters

Plácido Domingo Celebration, Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, October 2011 By markronan

 Your Plácido Domingo highlights

Placido Domingo - thrice - Intermezzo

Express Review

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!

Simon Boccanegra: What Twitter said

Placido Domingo....you opera god :) PhoebeKirrage

Watching Opera on bbc2 Placido Domingo is amazing! donnapanda

There's something called 'Placido Domingo in Simon Boccanegra' on BBC2 now. Sounds like a Latin American porno. littlemark_83

Not saying the world cup is not enthralling but I am watching Placido Domingo in Simon Boccanegra on BBC 2. Great voice but I no comprende! keithmullingspt

I am watching Placido Domingo in Simon Boccanegra on BBC 2. Fabulous! psweetman

watching Simon Boccanegra with Placido Domingo. Didn't imagine for a second quite how fantastic it is northbriton45

No football for me. Simon Boccanegra with the one and only Placido Domingo for me EileenAllen55

Anyone see this on bbc2 tonight? "Placido Domingo in Simon Boccanegra" - that's 2 and half hours of pure loving. Domingo got mad stamina yo adamprincebilly

Watching Placido Domingo singing opera at age of 69. lucky if i can stand when get to that age. Fantastic! darkmagician

Placido Domingo in Simon Boccanegra *sniff* brendadada

More of the same please, Simon Bocannegra with a superb cast headed by Placido Domingo. Now that's entertainment of a high calibre. Bravo Polstan

Am listening to dreamboat Placido Domingo, on BBC 2. Too muggy to do anything else. Amalari

Verdi's Simon Boccanegra on BBC2. Most complicated story in opera. Half the plot takes place before it starts & some characters change names parkavenueguy

Not sure if I fully understand Simon Boccanegra's plot so far but am enjoying the singing and music. Wonderful manipillai

this verdi opera simon boccanegra is beautiful and so is domingo. highheeledlady

Just got home from work to discover Simon Boccanegra on TV. Hurrah! modernmalcolm

'Restore my faith in your innocence' line from Simon Boccanegra reminds me of Sita returning to Rama after the Ravaana episode. manipillai

Watching Simon Boccanegra on BBC2 - stunning. Not heard it before completely blown away by it. crofty

Simon Boccanegra had made me well up. *sniff* MahlerMad

I loved the televised Boccanegra, Domingo was excellent! leonora1

Boccanegra superb! Can't wait to see it live! CurzonProduct

Antonio Pappano beguilingly enthusiastic presenter & conducter of Simon Boccanegra tv bcast 2nght not to mention fab cast, Domingo et al! JoannaLazarov

And

RT @Gert: TV ALERT TV ALERT. Today BBC2 1930 (2100 in Scotland) Plácido Domingo is Simon Boccanegra http://bit.ly/buMcaX I highly recommend this erwin_schrott (yeah, Erwin Schrott, RT'ing me!)

Some more Simon Boccanegra links

Lots and lots of photos, albeit watermarked of the production (if the link doesn't work, search 'Simon Boccanegra')

Picture Perfect — Plácido Domingo as Simon Boccanegra, Royal Opera (from Opera Today)

Domingo’s authority is all the more impressive because there aren’t any florid, crowd pleasing arias in the part... Indeed the tension in Domingo’s voice at some points enhances his characterization of Boccanegra as a man ravaged by fruitless struggle.

Domingo was convincingly tender in the reconciliation scene with Amelia, but reached true heights later. His monologue “Ah! ch’io respiri l’aura beata del libero cielo!”was exceptional. Acting skills grow with experience, so even if a voice ages, a true artist like Domingo can bring out aspects in the character deeper than words alone. 

Wonderful wonderful opinion piece: James Naughtie: why Placido Domingo has been the best opera singer of his time

It may be a curious word to use, but that feeling of determination has always characterised Domingo and set him apart from some others who roost near the top of the tree. There are relatively few who have been willing to take so many risks for so long. Perhaps the reason why that side of him has been underestimated is that most of them have come off...

...These human characteristics, of course, shouldn’t be remarkable: but they are, because something about the pace, the physical pressures and the emotional atmosphere of opera tends to work against them. It sometimes seems easier to be a pain.

Calleja triumphs alongside Placido Domingo (from Times of Malta)

“Placido arrived a couple of days late for rehearsals, and during the first rehearsals without him I often wondered how his approach towards this role would be, given his gargantuan experience and megastar status. Once he arrived , he came straight from the airport where he had just landed from LA and I was flabbergasted to realise that he was actually looking forward to rehearse and go through the role with the rest of the cast there. His approach still fresh and unscathed from over 45 years of rehearsing and performing."

The serious business of football has played a part too, even if the Maltese tenor managed to annoy the grand old man a little on that score . “During the first week of rehearsals he requested that no one would tell him the scores of the ongoing football matches. For some reason this ‘request’ didn’t reach me and I kept telling him. He politely didn’t tell me not to

(I was supplying Joseph with updates in the final matches of England's group, during rehearsals...!)

Dave Reinstein's blog

Did this fabled Spanish-Mexican superstar manage it? Musically, and in Boccanegra’s tricky psychological journey, yes in all respects. Yet perversely his timbre remains firmly that of a tenor, glowing best at the radiant top, with a tendency to thinness at the bottom, the precise opposite of baritone instinct. But as long as he can make an utterance called singing, displaying frailties as well as magnificent treasures, this artist will always give pleasure. His Boccanegra is a monument to an incomparable career. Watch the broadcast on BBC2 next Saturday, 7.30pm or, better still, catch the big-screen live relay on Tuesday 13 July in London, Bradford, Bristol, Ipswich, Leicester, Manchester, Plymouth or Portsmouth.

And just for good measure, some photos from the Gala in Vienna a week ago Saturday

Plácido Domingo is Simon Boccanegra

It is so very difficult to write a personal review of a performance when you have read so many reviews by others, and participated in so many conversations.

On Friday I decided that I would write a personal appreciation of the performance by Plácido Domingo as Simon Boccanegra. That's also pretty difficult to do because I still haven't managed entirely to assimilate all the details of the plot of the opera!

I am actually quite surprised at how people are describing this as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to experience something historic. Quite contrary to my judgement that this would be wonderful to see, but significantly less meaningful than, say, Plácido Domingo as Otello, Plácido Domingo as Siegmund, Plácido Domingo as  Cavaradossi.

At the moment, these may well be his final singing performances at the Royal Opera House, and the Prom his final in London, because there is nothing else publicly announced - although Jim Naughtie has dropped a heavy hint of something big planned for his 40th anniversary in late 2011. So that's important, too.

If I have to single out one aspect of his entire performance, I must point to the closing moments, when he flings himself to the floor, dying of poison. I know I joke about him rolling on the floor and indeed, I did ask him whether he enjoys rolling around on the floor off-stage, which he mischievously deliberately misinterpreted!  But he has no need to. There are other ways to portray the death. If he just slumped in a chair, no-one would complain, nor indeed if he spent the entire opera rooted to a spot merely singing. It's something he clearly enjoys doing - because he can - but it also symbolises his total approach to the role.

In the prologue, which happens 25 years before the main action, he wears a wig and has his beard dyed. It's not that great a look, to be honest; he looks so much better when he's back to his natural grey look. But I do notice that he seems physically different - much more agile and lithe. In Acts 1 and 2 he is sparer in his movements, having assumed the dignitas of office as the Doge; in Act 3 he is splendidly infirm, stooped and lame, supported by two sticks, and visibly failing.

Vocally, I am yet to be convinced. I am perfectly satisfied at the appropriateness of a tenor singing the role. No, it doesn't mean it should *always* be sung by a tenor, but all roles are open to interpretation; this is a valid interpretation, and one assumes that in future the role will generally be sung by a baritone.

I think it's worth noting that he is vocally secure throughout. It's too easy to take that for granted. I admire and like the colouring and other dramatic use of the voice to portray the character and tell the tale, and I appreciate the absence of showboating and histrionic circus-tricks, which may be the sine qua non for some so-called opera fans, but are often the desperate signs of a mediocre talent.

But I miss the characteristic Domingo sound, perhaps even more because once it really shone. I love it when he pus his head back, totally relaxes and this gorgeous velvety almost purring sound comes out. If I recall correctly, this was in the Council chamber scene, but there is so much to take in and so much to remember I may well be wrong. Part of me thinks I should be taking notes as I go along, perhaps I will when it is televised!

Talking of televising, Friday's performance was filmed for TV, as will be tonight's (Monday). This will be shown on BBC2 on Saturday and later made available on DVD. At the end, during the curtain call, I stood up, largely to take photos, and only subsequently realised that a TV camera was focused entirely on me. I assume they were filming several audience shots and will maybe cut in or two fleeting moments, but if they keep that shot, I will be pretty conspicuous! Eventually nearly everyone was on their feet.

Simon Boccanegra the First

 

I shall write more after the weekend, when I've enjoyed the luxury of a second performance.

A review by bullet points.

A thoroughly enjoyable evening, where everything seemed to work. Naturally, not perfect, but if I nitpicked the fine details, I would diminish my appreciation of a compelling story, and descriptive music performed by top class musicians.

I was surprised at how much I liked a traditional, dated, staid production. There are numerous ways it could have been done entirely differently but I thought it worked as a frame within which the principals did their thing.

The music is beginning to wash over me. I am struggling to become familiar with this work, which hasn't got the instant appeal - for me - of several of Verdi's other works. I couldn't say for certain how the orchestra under Tony Pappano rated, but it sounded good to me, at times - when the music painted a picture - quite exquisite.  (Get back to me in the 3rd week of July when I shall blog more about the actual opera itself).

Vocally, Joseph Calleja was outstanding. From the first moment, his voice hit my 'T' spot; frequently I gasped as I heard yet another sound of beauty. I thought the love duet with Marina Poplavskaya was especially poignant. I've kind of liked Joseph for a good few years, and have a couple of CDs, but I've never really heard him in a role that has made me go wow! This time, yes, definitely, wow! I want more!

I'm a big Ferruccio Furlanetto fan, partly as a result of him being the sole stand-out in 2008 (in the other production). A very understated low-key performance, perhaps all the more powerful for being so.

I am tremendously fond of Marina Poplavskaya, although I can also see why some people don't like her. I was a bit surprised when the unpleasant vicious woman sitting next to me (of whom, more anon) described her as being 'screechy'. I just wouldn't go with that. Perhaps uneven is better.

At the Insight evening, she had reflected that her first outing as Elizabetta hadn't been a total success. I thought it took courage to admit that, although perhaps made easier by the knowledge that eighteen months it won widespread acclaim. I think her Amelia is better than her first Elizabetta, and  I look forward to seeing future outings of it. That isn't intended as a euphemistic criticism, far from it, I enjoyed her portrayal , and although I don't think she could ever be accused of being absolutely true to pitch, there is something attractive in that.

 

However, even though the other principals were enticing and thrilling in their own right, I would not have booked for so many performances, and I doubt there would have been the media attention without Himself, Plácido Domingo, well-known tenor singing the baritone role of Simon Boccanegra. I've heard him on two live broadcasts to cinema, but that isn't the same as live.

You know, there are people on the internet who criticise Plácido for being Plácido. I really do get weary of this. I know everyone's taste differ, and everyone's entitled to express that. But when he gets criticised for not obeying the arbitrary precedent of some random now-dead singer, I don't really care.

When people purse their lips and pronounce prissily that a tenor singing Boccanegra was not what Verdi had intended, I think maybe, just maybe, Verdi would have wished to hear Plácido Domingo, no ordinary tenor, singing the role. Not as the definitive textbook example - he's not singing it as a baritone, but as a tenor - but for its own sake. (And in any case, it seems the naysayers would rather hear a theoretical performance from a longtime retired or even dead baritone. I prefer actual real live performances in my presence than some trainspotter's list of what might possibly be. Call me fussy).

Anyway! I thought he started slowly. I don't especially like the Prologue, although I see it as necessary dramaturgically, and if I'd had to judge after that I would have found it hard to say what the fuss was about. But once he'd warmed up!

One of the many virtues of Plácido is his musicality. It's hard to cite instances of where that was apparent, because it isn't overt and clunky, but instead imbues the entire performance and overall interpretation. I think what I like most about his voice is the complexities of undertones and overtones, and a very distinct timbre. It has actually changed very little (from recordings) from forty-odd years ago. But singing this baritone role, albeit as a tenor, but with a more baritonal colouring, doesn't actually showcase his voice at his brilliant best.

The absolute highlight of the performance was Plácido's dramatic portrayal of the Doge and most particularly in the final act, when he was superbly abetted by a strong Furlanetto performance. When Placido entered as the dying SB, frail and on crutches, a fleeting thought passed through my mind "Tee hee he's practising to be Rigoletto in the ROH production", but I soon got over that.

Another fleeting memory was the poignant and delightfully melodramatic final act from Cyrano de Bergerac, and, of course there are similarities, how can there not  be. But this was a singular portrayal and incredibly moving. Perhaps too much for me fully to appreciate as a one-off. Fortunately, this will be shown on BBC TV on 10 July, and therefore, whetehr formally or informally, will be preserved for posterity and for all to see, one way or another.

After the performance I went to the Stage Door along with many other people. I knew Plácido had gone, he was off to Vienna for Wednesday's Parsifal, but well, whatever, I still hung around. Joseph Calleja came out and of course was surrounded by adoring fans. I hung back, because I do. Then he spotted me and exclaimed "Now I recognise you!" causing me to blush like a school-girl. I think maybe one or two people may have wondered about the context. Yeah, like I'm going to explain on the internet! I am most definitely a Joseph Calleja fan!

PS This blogpost ought to be adorned with pictures for some reason I can't upload them due to the antiquated and restricted functionality of the PC I am currently using, which is not my home laptop.

Simon Boccanegra reviews

 UPDATE: Further links added 3/7/10:

From the Telegraph, where Rupert moans and nitpicks, damns with faint praise, then awards five stars!

From Music OMH

Domingo is perfect both in his paternal role and that of the tormented ruler, his scenes with Amelia on an emotional par with anything you might experience at the RSC, and his singing, whilst it may not please those who prefer a deeper, darker tone, burns with commitment and pathos. ‘Figlia!' of course tugged at the heartstrings, ‘Plebe! Patrizi!' gave us a stirring reminder of just how to dominate a stage, and his death scene was ample proof of the fact that Domingo did not want to sing this role because he wants to become a baritone, but because it is one of the greatest in the repertoire.

Placido Domingo digs deep to return to his roots (From Daily Mail)

his gloriously burnished tones have always had a darkly glinting edge. And it is that lower register that he now explores in this Lear-like journey of self-discovery.

From the youthfully dashing pirate of the opening to the tottering, poisoned old Doge of the immensely moving final scene, Domingo inhabits the role with awesome nobility and majestic power.

And he inspires a terrific Royal Opera cast to rise magnificently to this onceina-lifetime occasion.

From the Guardian

only Domingo could inspire those around him to the point that his personal achievement seems only one part of a memorable ensemble performance.

Domingo projects Boccanegra's music into the audience with a tenor's glinting edge rather than a true baritone's heft, and the Doge is a different man as a result.So this Boccanegra is not really what Verdi had in mind. But does that matter? Not this time. Once again, Domingo creates a convincing character on his own terms. At the end of the first act, as the Council Chamber descends into chaos around him, Domingo does little but stand and sing, but the effect is riveting.

Crowning glory for triumphant Domingo (Independent)

As the plot winds towards its terrible denouement – of retribution, reconciliation, and the passing on of the torch – it is clear that there are three heroes in this production: Calleja, Furlannetto and Domingo – with Domingo wearing the crown. Stumbling and struggling to breathe as the poison in his veins takes hold, his leave-taking wrings the heart, with his last words sounding like a benediction from the grave. Long may he continue to triumph.

From the Financial Times

he bestowed on the Genoese Doge a tragic stature that had nothing to do with vocal categorisation and everything to do with vocal acting, posture, stage presence and Verdian grandezza.

It may indeed be a vanity project for an ageing tenor to prolong his career by singing roles never meant for a tenor. And yes, it was frustrating to listen to Domingo’s caged voice, knowing it was not going to climb those meltingly romantic heights that were for so long his domain.

But if operatic singing is 50 per cent characterisation, I’ll gladly accept Domingo’s Doge. He brings more histrionic intensity to the part than any true baritone. He has aged handsomely, though in his appearance as the young buccaneer, I could have sworn I was watching a singer half Domingo’s 70-plus years (strange innumeracy from the Financial Times...)

Placido’s warm baritone has the tenor of his thrilling past in Simon Boccanegra  (Evening Standard)

From What's on Stage

Domingo doesn’t fully convince as a baritone.  As we’re accustomed to a distinctly  baritonal quality to his voice, for much of the time he sounds little different from his other Verdi roles and when he does force the voice down there’s a slight constriction of his usual expressiveness.  While there’s nothing essentially wrong with the sound, it produces a discomforting effect and moments of tenorial flow come as something of a relief.

What we get, of course, is the singer’s magnificent and irreplaceable stage presence.  As with Olivier’s late, late TV appearance as King Lear, we get a lifetime of experience from the greatest performer of a generation poured into the character; true stateliness, grace and depths of suffering that no-one else can bring to muster.  What Domingo still has, which Olivier had lost by the time of an otherwise heart-wrenching performance, is sheer power.

From The Stage

decently rehearsed

From Musical Criticism

It was as the older Boccanegra that he truly excelled, however. To play the father is something that suits Domingo's appearance now. No longer the dashing lover or young poet, he's able to explore new emotions and aspects to his acting by adopting a parental persona – one which is contrasted with his responsibilities as the Doge, of course. Domingo was absolutely in his element in the Council Chamber Scene: the centre of attention is where he likes to be, and his communication of the character's courage in dealing with the plebeians and patricians in the midst of their violence was impressively compelling. Still, the death scene was (perhaps inevitably) his real tour de force. Here, the portrayal of Boccanegra's physical weakening as the poison takes over his body was subtly done, matched with a high level of expressive nuance in the voice and his unending musicality.

From Intermezzo

What matters is that regardless of theoretical vocal fit, he gave a truly monumental performance by any standard...Burdened by public duty and private regrets, the aging Doge’s wearied yet inexorable progress to his final end was magnetically charted. Cosmetically rejuvenated for the Prologue, his forced sprightliness hinted tellingly at his eventual fate.

Mark Ronan's Theatre Reviews

Placido Domingo as Boccanegra, and Feruccio Furlanetto as Fiesco, formed a powerfully opposing duo, whose meetings in the Prologue and again at the end of the opera remain etched in my memory.

The acting of Domingo, Furlanetto and Poplavskaya was simply wonderful — I cannot imagine better. Add to that the singing of Joseph Calleja as Amelia’s beloved Gabriele Adorno, and this was a terrific cast — Calleja sang like a god.

Curtain call and post-performance photos (thanks to commenter Vera!)

Video (from Reuters): Domingo hits new lows

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.

 

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!

Traviata

A very quick and almost instant review of Tuesday evening performance at the Royal Opera house

Basicaly, a routine revival with a largely unstarry cast. I had a thoroughly enjoyable evening, luxuriating in this great great work. Because the tunes are so familiar and so hummable, it's so easy to dismiss it as fluffy. An opera you'd suggest as a possible 'First' for a newbie. Being familiar and accessible does not diminish its greatness.

The conductor Yves Abel led the orchestra in an unusually intimate interpretation. His pacing was relaxed, never quite falling into langour, with passages of light, and some delicate touches and beautiful arching phrases.

Dmitri Hvorostovsky was as expected as Giorgio Germont, exemplary as a performer and delightfully stiff and stuffy as a character. He sounded a bit gruff to begin with, but he soon warmed up and settled in, and at times sounded utterly gorgeous. He is, of course, a superstar name, so I'm not quite right in saying it wasn't a starry cast. And 70-year old Robert Lloyd was luxury cast in the tiny role of Doctor Grenvil.

I had very mixed feelings about Ermonela Jaho. When she was good she was very good, and was physically convincing as Violetta. When she wasn't so good she squawked. She seemed vulnerable when she had those wonderful solo passages with minimal orchestration that Verdi so lovingly gave to singers, but she flourished against the heavier orchestration and in ensemble. Never a beautiful voice, she seems to have made a career out of singing Violetta when it is quite possible that she would be a much better Tosca.

In an unusual Albanian double (these Eastern Europeans, where are they flocking from?) Saimir Pirgu was a sensational Alfredo. He's been on my radar for a while - I loved him in the one-aria tenor role in Gianni Schicchi, three years ago, and last year he didn't disappoint as Christian in Cyrano de Bergerac in Paris, despite it being a thankless part.

And frankly, as soon as he caressed the word 'palpito' soon after his entrance in Act 1, he was mine. And he just got better and better. A bit wayward of pitch once or twice, but not in some painful straining way - in exuberance and passion. Still in his 20s, he was a credible and sympathetic Alfredo, and, actually, young enough to be Dima's son (!).

What a voice! I love him. I love him so much I would go and see Boheme if he was in it. His voice moved me to tears. It also worked so well with Dima's in ensemble; I have never realised before how emotional the finale of Act II is, how complex and expressive the music. I hope that he 's got someone looking after his interests, not persuading him into roles too heavy too soon - I suspect he will emerge as a  very exciting spinto in time. 

He looked good on stage and moved with confidence. Through the binoculars, he looked very easy on the eye, too, which is no bad thing for a romantic tenor: not entirely sure how impressive he'd look on TV.

It was Traviata, which every opera fan knows well, and it was the old old Richard Eyre production which every London opera fan knows (and was immortalised on DVD with Angela Gheorghiu). No point in analaysing the story or the production, enough to say it didn't nnoy me too much. There were elements in it I didn't recognise; whether they're new or I've just not noticed them before, I can't say!

My most favourite moment is when Violetta is singing Sempre Libera and Alfredo's voice is heard from off-stage. So, I'd just like to say to the stupid laughing woman behind me - that was one of the occasions when you shouldn't have laughed. How completely stupid or hard do you have to be to think that that is funny? How many clues do you need, such as over 2,000 other people aren't laughing?

Simon Boccanegra, Milano - in the cinema

It's such a splendid idea of having live performances transmitted (live or otherwise) into cinemas. I would also quite like a TV-Channel (Pay Per View if necessary) that did similar. But it's rather nice to treat an evening at the cinema as a bit of a night out, walking into the foyer and spotting so many familiar faces (it's not actually true that I knew everybody in the cinema, but I did recognise about two-thirds of faces!)

First of all, I must talk about the production. It wasn't the direst production I have seen but it was pretty lame. That having been said, I have seen at least four different production of Simon Boccanegra and have found them all a bit risible. Perhaps there is something inherent in the work - it doesn't lend itself to updating, and there isn't a lot of scope for anything but confrontations within tableaux.

Some aspects of the camera work were a bit dubious; perhaps worse was the direction that seemed to introduce transitions in the style of Powerpoint presentations circa 1996, often at the most poignant moments.

My greatest criticism was for the ludicrous decision to have a corps of ballet boys being sailors. I could see the point, but the way they were choreographed as a bad borderline-homophobic 1970s mincing joke. I also could not understand why a crowd of men in 19th century coats and hats suddenly emerged as background in the final scene, when the whole of the rest of the opera had been costumed in generic 'old' costumes (the opera is supposedly set in the 14th century).

Some of the scenery was very stupid. Not least in the garden scene, where there was a heap of rubble in the background. It was basically a pile of slabs arranged in a triangular or pyramidical pile; this was later reflected in a painting in the Council Chamber of rocks at sea in the pile. Why, who knows? But in among the almost plausible pile of slabs was something that strongly resembled a section of track from a model railway. Shrug. Three trees were suspended above the stage and I just kept looking at them thinking 'Why?' I would have been prepared to believe it was an attempt at perspective and distance except that they had a mass of roots clearly visible at the bottom. At some point they descended to ground level; instead of highly visible roots we had conspicuous wires holding them up.

I don't think there was much production except for scenery and crowd scenes. Very unimaginative. I felt that the singers were basically told to get on with it and act. Which was largely fine for these principals but I'm not sure it would work with singers less able to act.

I have to admit that I like the story and characters of Simon Boccanegra much more than I like the music. I don't dislike the music but for some reason it refuses to lodge in my sub-conscious, in the way that many Verdi operas do so easily (And I don't just mean the obviously hummable ones like Rig and Trav). But even with that caveat I don't really understand the booing of Daniel Barenboim (the live coverage stopped strategically before he took a bow). I don't actually rate Barenboim as that great a conductor, but I have heard a lot worse. I suspect this booing lark is as much about disturbed or insecure wankers needing the attention as an informed rational objective music judgement. My feelings about the music was that there were some good bits - most notably the sound of the sea - no obviously dreadful bits, and it seemed reasonably sympathetic an accompaniment of the singers.

Ah, the singers! What a splendid cast! Really first class. It comes into my category of operas with 'too many indistinguishable men in comprimario roles' but the leading players were excellent. Massimo Cavalletti as Paolo and Fabio Sartori as Gabriele Adorni were more than satisfactory. 

But the real luxury lay in the three main roles. Ferruccio Furlanetto was superb as Fiesco. He must be my favourite bass, admittedly just on the basis of three fabulous Verdi roles. I love his voice and I love his stage presence.

I was really impressed by Anja Harteros as Amelia.I don't think I've ever heard her live. I made the mistake a couple of years ago of going to a Boccanegra at Covent Garden in which she wasn't Amelia. She's a bit odd-looking, and the camera close-ups of her rather odd facial expressions doesn't do her any favours. But vocally she was superb and I was happy at her portrayal.

But as you know full well, the only reason I was actually at the cinema as opposed to, say, watching The Leaders' Debate live on the TV was for Simon Boccanegra, the man himself - a sixty-nine year old tenor doing a passable impression of a fifty year old baritone!

I know the debate goes on: does he has the right voice for this role? My answer, no, probably not. But I actually can't think of any baritone singing now who'd I really wish to hear in this role, except for Dmitri Hvorostovsky, about whom it has also be said is vocally unsuitable! And the next question - should Plácido have retired as a consequence of his recent surgery? On this evidence, no absolutely not.

He was a bit shaky in the Prologue, but after that he was absolutely fine. I had been prepared for him being less active on the stage, mentally preparing myself for a lack of dramatic falling to the ground. Again, no problem there. He wasn't exactly leaping around the stage - the sword fight in the Prologue was pathetic (maybe because of the 'direction'?) and he looked quite awkward towards the end - but that might have been because he was playing the role of someone dying from slow-working poison. His final deathly collapse was suitably dramatic: not his finest example of falling-to-and-rolling-around-the-ground, but more than satisfactory.

Vocally, he was superb. I'm not sure there's a lot more to say. His voice never fails to thrill me. He is convincing and sympathetic in the role, especially in the one-to-one interactions with Amelia. I have no problem taking him for a baritone, although I concede that in another baritone role that I'm more instinctively familiar with, say Rigoletto, I may be better placed to notice the difference. He certainly didn't sound like a tenor.

And for the most part he looked good. Ruggedly handsome as ever, of course, even though there were odd moments when I thought 'he's looking old'. I guess when he's tired he tends to look older than when he's bouncing around, there again, refer back to my earlier comments on 'character affected by slow-working poison'

I doubt that I shall ever love Simon Boccanegra as an opera, even though I find the Garden recognition scene and the final death scene intensely moving. I am looking forward tremendously to seeing it in London  - so far, only two performances booked:-(, and I salivate at the all round superbly good cast assembled.  I enjoyed it in the cinema but other than it being the best cast I've seen in it, I don't think it will otherwise figure as a 'best ever'.

There were no sub-titles on the transmission. I don't know whether there was supposed to be, even though they were promised on the cast-list/synopsis sheet handed out beforehand. On the way out the manager handed each of us a complimentary ticket for a future performance of anything in any Odeon, which I consider a gracious gesture. 

Simon Boccanegra in the cinema

So many people have said to me how lucky I am that I was able to spend my birthday evening watching a live broadcast of Simon Boccanegra live from New York beamed into my local cinema - a performance of Simon Boccanegra starring my hero, Plácido Domingo.

I don't feel lucky. I ended up having my birthday meal at 4pm, and it was a bit rushed, and not necessarily in a place I would have chosen for a special birthday meal, but moaning about that would be churlish.

Put it simply, I drunk before, during and after. I was never steaming drunk, and wasn't even particularly drunk until much later. I was squiffy. I was able to concentrate on the performance, appreciate what was worth appreciating, and criticise that which needed criticising, but by the next day I was suffering memory loss.

In some ways I am kicking myself, but I am trying also to be wise. Better to have this amnesia now than in relation to a live performance. I know that I thoroughly enjoyed the performance (and myself), and in my 'live for the minute' philosophy that's what matters. Ultimately, it doesn't matter than I can't remember sufficient detail to write intelligently about it. It will appear on TV and/or DVD at some point, so it is not lost for ever; perhaps when I watch it again I will have my memory refreshed, or else I will be able to savour it anew. Either way, I have a future win!

I realise I don't know the opera as well as many other Verdi works, but I have seen it live and on TV. So I can't plead total unfamiliarity. The plot is a bit convoluted to explain, and I did realise I have misunderstood a few small details - for example, I thought somehow that Fiesco's daughter, Boccanegra's lover, and Amelia/Maria's mother died in childbirth. But I don't think that my mistaken assumption or the seemingly complicated nature of the plot is an excuse. Indeed, there are elements to the story that are absolutely compelling; the father/daughter recognition scene is one that people refer to constantly when discussing this opera, and I find it amazing every time I see it!

I do not advocate that all good operas need a tune to hum on the way out. When they do have a tune to hum, they aren't  necessarily operas (think of the number of rarely performed operas that have produced one memorable aria or duet!).

But I do think it's worth persevering with and getting to know better. I think it's on at Covent Garden this summer, so I suppose I might as well try and get a ticket for a performance or two. Although, dear reader, it will be shown on BBC TV, so I don't feel that you need bother getting tickets to see it live, when you can enjoy it from the comfort of your own home.

I found the supporting cast (ie all but the lead role) a bit ordinary. People had written that James Morris is past it, part of the voice gone, forcing him to speak the role. I noticed that and it didn't bother me greatly; he had impressive gravitas in the role . Adrianne Pieczonka was so-so. I thought her very squawky, especially when she was first singing in the garden. She got less squawky and did a decent job, but I can't see myself rushing to hear her again. Her facial acting was non-existent, her physical acting was largely a case of going through rehearsed roles.

I was pleasantly surprised by Marcello Giordani. I have never heard him live, and don't especially wish to. This was the best I have heard him in televised etc productions; I was a bit shocked to read that many people thought that this was one of his best performances ever. It was, just, okay. He hit the right notes with the right tone and dynamics, and I guess the core of the voice is essentially beautiful. But it's forgettable, and lacks subtlety, nuance, any real attempt to colour it or to project any sort of character.But I did find his diction clear and easy to follow (yes, I know he's Italian, but I don't always find Italians easy to follow in Italian any more than I find English-speakers necessarily easy to follow in English).

I thought the production was as dull as dishwater and flatter. I did like the garden scenery, but one decent set doesn't a production make. I can't really pull it apart and say - this was wrong, this was wrong, because there was no 'this' there. It was in effect a cast of characters in rather risible gowns moving fairly meaninglessly around the set, except for when they stood still. To some extent it was little more than a concert performance with scenery and costumes. (But I don't think the ROH production is any better).

I thought the Council Chamber was spectacularly tacky. In fairness, it was designed to be seen from afar within the house, rather than close up in HD on a cinema screen, but I was a bit gobsmacked when the audience applauded. I can kind of see the point of applauding the scenery on the first night of a new production, when the designers are in the house to hear it, but after so many years, such ill-timed applause simply drowns out the music which is supposed to be making an impact at the time.

I haven't much to say about the orchestral playing, and thus conducting. I had a very favourable impression at the time, but, in actual fact, notwithstanding my general memory loss, the most forgettable aspect was the music. In any case, I think this is where the cinema does fall down. Jimmy remarked, without my prompting,  that he missed the sound of a live orchestra, it sounded muffled; I had already decided that the resonance of the timpani was killed.

But of course, the highlight for me was Plácido singing Simon Boccanegra. I am very much looking forward to hearing and seeing him perform this live in London - which seems a long way off. He's also doing it in Berlin (again), Zurich, Milan and Madrid, but, with regret, I decided not to book for any of these, largely for financial reasons!

There has been criticism of the idea of him taking on the role, and some criticism, mainly from 'the usual suspects' of his actual performance, but overall the intelligent comment has been very positive. I do wonder why there is such a big deal about the difference between a tenor and a baritone: sopranos become mezzos and vice-versa, and take on each other's roles. There are roles that are performed by light baritones, 'Verdi' baritones, and bass-baritones. I do accept that there is a difference in tone and even colour between what one would expect from a baritone and hear from a tenor.

I suppose if I was mostly interested in the sounds that singers make, I would have grounds for criticising. But I don't ever see opera as being a display of sounds.

What was very striking about Plácido's performance was how he gets the basics absolutely right. The right notes in the right order, on pitch, without wobble, scoop, swoop or compromise and in delightful phrasing that is intrinsically musical. And it builds from there, vocally, yes, with lots of expression and variety, but also physically.

I felt he was a natural in the role. He did joke in the interview after the Prologue - apropos the rest of the opera being set twenty-five years later - that he would be getting closer to his real age. And, obviously, that helped. I didn't think much of the Act 1 sword fight, on the other hand, the final death scene was glorious. I am in awe of the way Plácido just falls to the floor. In contrast, the rolling is easy.

So, as I say, I enjoyed it while I was there, but there's no use me trying to make out I remember more than I did, when I didn't! I wish there was a 'replay' in the UK but as far as I can tell from the web, there isn't. I'm hoping it will be on SkyArts eventually, but that won't be for months.

Do check out remarks by commenter P-Dingo on the 25 January performance live in the house.

Round up of the reviews of Otello at the Barbican

Otello stile inglese (Intermezzo)

the clarity and ease of O'Neill's thrilling top notes hinted at a long-gone golden age.

Gerald Finley's intelligently drawn Iago schemed with devious charm. But ultimately he lacks the fundamental heft for this role, as even a golden voice spinning meticulously-crafted phrases cannot conceal.

Edward Seckerson in the Independent shows here how to paint a picture with words:

piccolo-flecked lightening strafing the horizon

O’Neill has a real trumpet-toned top to his voice and like all true warriors he is fearless...it was refreshing, no thrilling, to hear a young singer really nail those crazed top notes. His martial outburst in act two had splendid rigour. For sure O’Neill lacked the middle-voice heft and shrouded darkness for the harrowing third act monologue but he was not found wanting in any other respect, indeed his sensitive and expressive way with text truly brought a lump to the throat in the great final scene.

Gerald Finley’s sonorous and charismatic Iago was more gracious, more mellifluous, with the musical line, his deceits positively slipping off the tongue, his “covered” ingratiations veiling the evil intent. A tremendous performance, a whiff of theatricality in every line.

Guardian

O'Neill sang tirelessly, with wonderful freedom and sustained intensity, even if purists might regard his sound as not an authentically Verdian one.Alongside him, Gerald Finley's Jago was horribly plausible too, honey-toned yet unsettlingly amoral in the second-act credo, while beauty of tone was also the hallmark of Allan Clayton's Cassio. All of them projected the text with great clarity

Financial Times

With minimal rehearsal O’Neill took command: it is basically a tightly focused tenor with a heroic upper extension, which he controls with clean confidence and natural musicality. He may not be a Moor in the burnished Domingo mould, but his steely core is impressive and he fines it down where necessary.

The most Italianate singing – and by far the best diction – came from Gerald Finley, not a singer hitherto known as a Verdi baritone. His Iago prompts a full reassessment: it had colour, character, credibility. Among a fine group of comprimarios, Allan Clayton’s Cassio showed most promise.

Two nights, one disturbing theme. These Verdi productions were world-class accounts of Shakepeare’s critique on identity (Times)

Gerald Finley was superb as Iago: insidiously sinister, yet sustaining a wonderfully suave line. A host of rising singers — Allan Clayton, Matthew Rose and Ben Johnson among them — took minor parts with distinction. And the New Zealand tenor Simon O’Neill, stepping in at 24 hours’ notice to tackle the title role for the first time in his life, gave an immense performance. If he can cultivate more tonal lustre to go with his typhoon-force top notes, he will make the Moor his own.

What's on Stage

everything came together in the second half. The Act 3 ensemble was ravishing and Act 4 was simply sublime... O’Neill’s “Niun me tema” was almost unbearably moving, showing that he has a great Otello in him and it’s not too far out of reach. Support was strong throughout the evening. If one is tempted to liken Ben Johnson’s Rodrigo and Allan Clayton’s Cassio to Ant and Dec, it didn’t detract from the beauty of their singing

MusicOMH

Simon O’Neill ... his performance of the title role was a triumph.

Gerald Finley sang with his usual musicianship, but by no stretch of the imagination is he a Verdi baritone

O’Neill delivered. His voice is not particularly beautiful or distinctive but by goodness he certainly knows how to give a performance. From his no-holds barred entrance, through to the sublime love duet which closes the first act, his voice was superbly controlled and where many more famous exponents of the role often resort to crooning, falsetto and other tricks to hide their vocal failings, O’Neill hit every note squarely, and his phrasing was faultless. He was tireless and still had plenty of mezza voce left for a quite heart-rending death scene. Watching him grow into the role over the next few years is a mouth-watering prospect as currently I can’t think of an Otello to touch him.

A new Otello is born!

Thrilled at the prospect of hearing Gerald Finley's first performance as Iago,  I booked my ticket for this months ago.  Having heard Ben Heppner's vocal collapse at Covent Garden, I was concerned at how any tenor would shape up in the title role.  I feel that's there only two singers around today I want to hear in this role. One's given it up and the other has not yet embraced the role*.

I heard the scheduled tenor Torsten Kerl in Die Tote Stadt, which somewhat allayed my fears, but I had no great expectations; I was very much focusing on this being Iago the Opera.

On Wednesday my blackberry vibrated with the news that Torsten Kerl had to withdraw,  being replaced by Simon O'Neill. With all due respect to Torsten, this was like booking Easy Jet and being forcibly upgraded to First Class on a flag-carrier.

I heard Simon's Florestan at the Proms and knew he has been quite wrongly missing from my life ('didn't you see him as Siegmund a couple of years ago?' someone asked me, and then laughed realising what a ridiculous question that was!).

I wasn't aware that Simon actually had Otello in his repertoire, although I subsequently discovered that he had planned to sing it last year at Salzburg but withdrew, because it was too soon to take on the role.

So, the scene is set. A role debutant as Otello - that role, where nothing is good enough for me, where everything will be compared to El Maestro. A role debutant who was called in at two days notice. It is customary to make allowances for a cover, and especially in such dramatic circumstances. I knew I should be grateful if he merely got through the role without doing a Heppner.

I take my seat, at ground level, right in front of the stage, close to the back row of the first violins, and really not very far from the tam-tam and the rest of the percussion. A woman makes the customary cancellitis announcement from the side, and then a man walks onto the platform who bears an uncanny resemblance to Nicholas Kenyon. I realise it is Nicholas Kenyon, who is there to announce that Colin Davis has just been announced recipient of the Queen's Medal for Music 2009. Colin came on, to rapturous applause, some of it standing, but he was having none of that - it was down to business.

Like all great operas (except Nozze), Otello begins with a storm scene. I only have to hear the tam-tam and my adrenaline is soaring. I marvelled in wonder at the gloriousness of the London Symphony Chorus and I sat back in my seat, ready to take in the proceedings.

I love being at the front, surrounded by the sound of the orchestra, but it has its disadvantages. In this concert performance, the singers retained the same position on stage all night (if they were needed; if not they were off stage).

It's very unlike a Handel opera in concert, where the Baroque orchestra allows for plenty of moving around, and the constant entering-and-leaving. This was the LSO, backed by the LSC, in all their 19th century grandeur, for a very grand 19th century opera, the soloists squeezed in at the front - Otello and Desdemona on my side and all the rest on the far side of the conductor.

This was the major downside of my evening: I never really got a proper view of Gerald Finley; I missed his stage presence and vitality; it was not until the final 'curtain' calls that I could be sure that he was indeed bearded. I also believe that I did not hear his singing properly, which was a shame. Also, I couldn't see the surtitle board, but, believe me, I really can live without it in Otello (although I'm not quite sure of the significance of 'fazzoletto').

I saw Simon preparing for his big entrance, his eyes firmly on the score but never buried in them. And then, Esultate. Never jump to conclusions, but I felt this surge of excitement: someone who sings Esultate like that is likely to be an acceptable Otello. I was entirely won over by the Gia nella notte densa.

I believe I will remember this evening for a long time, and it will certainly go down as one of my 2009 highlights. It's not the first time this year I have gone to hear Gerald Finley and had him outdone in my affections by an Antipodean tenor. That these operas were Peter Grimes and Otello makes this perfectly acceptable and does not diminish Gerald's sterling performance, and, of course, his Dr Atomic was of immense significance at the start of the year.

Sometimes, you come away from a performance with a feeling of 'yeah it was okay but there were all these faults'. Tonight was a night where you know that the details won't  stand up to microscopic analysis, but the overall effect was so tremendous that you really don't care.

There was probably more bombast than subtlety coming from the orchestra, which I don't think was purely a result of my lowly seat. There was some exquisite string playing in the second act, and the cor anglais was plangent in the opening to Act 4. It seemed like a good idea to position the trumpets for Act 3 to my left (in Door 1, I think it is, the one next to the door to backstage), and acoustically it worked, but it served only to expose the dodgy notes. I was startled by the boom of the bass drum (is it imitating cannon fire, or the anchor being lowered?).

Of course, I arrived with a lot of baggage and pre-conceived notions of how an Otello 'should' sound. It was surprisingly pleasant to hear a very different vocal interpretation of the role. Some half-time discussion about the timbre of Simon's voice, especially towards the upper end of the range elicited suggestions of 'reedy' and 'sweet', neither of which suffice but are better than any adjective I could find. I finally settled for 'counterheldentenor'. But hey, let's not worry about word pictures; suffice to say he was wonderful.

However much one tries to be objective, it is impossible not to be influenced by the knowledge of the circumstances. I am sure that when I hear the CD I will be more aware of flaws - there has been some speculation about the CD, with Torsten Kerl originally set to do Sunday night's performance despite Thursday's cancellations. But Simon also did Sunday's, according to the Barbican website, so they will have one performance and one spare (which is considered necessary, for patching).

The flaws were not significant. The biggest weakness was the lack of characterisation - this was never a scary Otello in quite the way you expect when watching on DVD. Understandable in a concert performance, with little preparation, with the hall lights on bright. The final act demands darkness.

In the great numbers, it was vocally superb. I writhed in pleasure during Ora e sempre addio; the Sangue sangue sangue Si Pel Ciel Marmoreo Giuro was sublime, two fabulous voices soaring above the orchestra; when I emerged for the interval I wanted to hear it again, maybe just the duet, but, preferably the entire act! As for Nium me tema - oh wow, that was goooood!

I was in a poor position to get the full benefit of the Gerald Finley experience, but it certainly came across as exquisite. I am most familiar with Sergei Leiferkus in this role, who lends a snidey steely quality to the role, which I never expected from Gerald. I have skimmed through several reviews that have asserted that he is no Verdi baritone. As I have never found a satisfactory definition of 'Verdi baritone', I don't really care. He sounded glorious, every note and , every nuance of the libretto and character perfect.

I was undecided about Anne Schwanewilms as Desdemona. It is an attractive and expressive voice with some glorious ringing notes. But, and this is a big but, she sounded spectacularly Wagnerian. Granted, Otello is Verdi's most obviously post-Wagner opera, and that there were some suspiciously Wagner sounding sounds emanating from the orchestra. But her style of singing, which I'm sure is superb in Strauss, in which she is pre-eminent, simply doesn't fit with Verdi. Technically it was excellent, but the legato, the phrasing, the tone were so very Germanic that it seemed strange. I don't suppose it's any weirder than Italianate Wagner, and it's possibly a valid interpretation, but I would have to get used to it before I could properly opine.

There was luxury in depth in the lesser roles. Matthew Rose was his usual dependable self, and stand-out as Cassio was Allan Clayton (the inaugural recipient of the Sir Elton John scholarship at RAM). Allan is dubbed as 'one to watch'. I hadn't even heard of him until I booked next week's Messiah, but on the strength of a well sung, well-characterised Cassio (with some facial expressions which suggested an easy acting ability) I would definitely concur: my anticipation has added 'exciting young tenor' to the excellent Lucy Crowe and Patricia Bardon (unfortunately, Matthew Rose has had to withdraw; I hope James Rutherford performs better than he did last time saw him, in an overall very disappointing Beethoven 9 at The Proms.

But the story of the night, and the justification for Twitter's desperate search for tickets for Sunday's repeat, was Simon O'Neill. A glorious voice who tackled this role with seeming ease. If someone had stepped up as Alfredo at short notice, there would have been shrugs all round, but Otello, the mountain of a role that requires a dramatic tenor and a musician. Many have tried, few have succeeded.

Afterwards I was sitting with friends having a drink in the basement bar and saw Simon walking through with several other people (entourage, I guess, but not in an entourage way). I approached him and thanked him for a wonderful performance. I hope my face showed that I wasn't just sycophantic. I really meant it. Neither of my companions are the types to praise where it isn't due, but they were both full of praise for a remarkable performance (but they don't do star-struckness like I do!). He seems a nice guy, certainly approachable, and down-to-earth. I suspect in years to come, when I'm in my anecdotage, it will be one of those nights where I can say 'I was there!'

I will buy the CD from LSO Live when it released and I shall also buy Simon O'Neill: Father and Son: Wagner Scenes and Arias

This is a few months old but definitely worth a read: Interview with Simon O'Neill

* I do hear that Jonas Kaufmann has offered his first Otello to the Royal Opera House, on the condition he gets a new production.

Rigoletto Mafia-style

Jonathan Miller's classic production of Rigoletto is a perfect example of how to re-imagine an opera, change its setting and deliver a honest interpretation of the work.

Originally conceived in 1982, it retains its freshness with some small details altered to reflect that it is now the 21st century - smokers standing in the street outside the bar rather than indoors. I did not notice the absence of mobile phones and other modern gadgetry during the performance and was content that it retained its broadly 1950s setting.

The production ticks several boxes in how to do it correctly. The sets are pleasing without being the raison d'etre of the show. Each set was closely linked to the others. Act 1 Scene 1 and Act II took place in Ceprano's bar. In Act 1 Scene 2 took place outside Rigoletto's house, which was across the street from the frontage of that bar. The final act took place in Sparafucile's bar, clearly in another part of town, and quite different: Ceprano's was a glamorous town-centre meeting place, Sparafucile's a Spartan worn-out back street place that relied on casual passing traffic. But yet, one could see that they were inspired by the same fashions. All sets were in proportion to each other, and all sets filled the stage.

The composition of the crowd scenes was carefully calibrated to be just right. Just enough people so they are no longer individuals, not so many as to over-run and dominate to the detriment of the principles. I have no lasting memory of the costumes, which means, to me, that they served the action well, and were not intended to convey some spurious meaning.

Importantly, as far as I could tell, all the action took place where it was visible from all around. I had a good seat in the fourth row of the Upper Circle, next to one on the inner aisles. Nevertheless a small part of the front side of the stage was obscured, but that did not matter because nothing happened there. There was realistic interaction between all the characters. Although no singer gave a definitive interpretation of the role, the absence of hamminess and the ease of movement was welcome (except, of course, for Rigoletto the hunchback whose lameness was understated and better for not lapsing into caricature).

The orchestra under Stephen Lord delivered an adequate but somewhat routine and unenlightening performance. I did not notice any duff notes or perverse tempi, but I missed the caressing of phrases or the drawing out of significant passages I have enjoyed with more sensitive interpretations.

At times the orchestra was too loud, drowning out the singers or seeking to dominate in those ensemble numbers which are about the different vocal lines - the most obvious being Bella figlia dell'amore. In general, the playing failed to move me intensely compared say to the superb interpretation of Renato Palumbo at Covent Garden a couple of years back.

Anthony Michaels-Moore had flu and was replaced as Rigoletto by Charles Johnston. His biography says that he is a regular understudy for roles at ENO; it was clear that he was familiar and comfortable with the staging. Not a beautiful voice and one that lacks the dramatic colour and nuances that distinguishes a star. Nevertheless a rewarding performance and one of the best stand-ins I have heard this year.

I was perplexed at how his sung words (clearly enunciated) deviated so frequently from the text of the surtitles, never changing the meaning. I don't know whether this means that the text has undergone subtle but major re-writing and he had learned the old version, perhaps having understudied it before. I didn't see such deviation from the other singers.

Michael Fabiano was a fresh and pleasant voiced 'Duke', lyrical but perhaps lacking passion. I noticed an absence of characterisation in his interpretation, rendering the Duke as a two-dimensional cypher, a cad at worst, rather than a brutal rapist and user. After a hesitant start with some strain he settled down to sing the role decently.

Katherine Whyte was engaging as Gilda and again, save for one or two screeched higher notes and some audibility issues against the too heavy orchestra, turned in a pleasant engaging and convincing interpretation.

The ever-reliable Brindley Sherratt excelled as Sparafucile, and Iain Paterson nearly stole the show as Monterone, one of those small parts that is best done with a very good singer - it perplexes me that Iain doesn't get bigger parts because, oozing Stage Presence, he was in a different league from  his colleagues. Madeleine Shaw sounded wonderful in the small role of Maddalena and acted the slut convincingly.

Altogether an enjoyable night at the opera, although not an evening that will feature in my highlights of 2009. I would strongly recommend this to anyone who is relatively inexperienced with opera and is looking for an enjoyable night out. A colleague and his girlfriend seem to have enjoyed it as did another colleague who saw it last week. None of them is a 'newbie' but it's fair to say they aren't at operas week in week out like some people I could mention

NB I paid for my ticket myself. I did it not receive it, or anything else, from ENO or anyone associated with them

Don Carlo - thoughts upon the opera

Don Carlo is Grand Opera in every sense. Verdi called it an opera of ideas. To do justice to these ideas he wrote big music. An opera which uses Leitmotifs to tell the story, to create atmosphere and to reflect the complexity of characters - and an opera that was first performed - in French, as Don Carlos - before Wagner released his Ring.

It is an opera that requires excellent singers in several roles, and a conductor who knows the overall arch of the masterful piece: not enough merely to accompany the singers in oompahpah. It is impossible to review succinctly without omitting so much that is important.

The production, by Nicholas Hytner of National Theatre fame. I saw it twice fifteen months ago; with the Dress Rehearsal and Thursday's performance, I have seen it twice more. When the cast is 'on' the production does not interfere too much. It is far too traditional for my liking but feel sure it will be regarded in New York, where it will eventually appear, as being too avant-garde.

It is easy to confuse 'production' with 'scenery' and 'costumes', and I have several criticisms of both. I hate the First Act (Fontainebleu) scenery, which consists of several unrealistic trees and two white walls perched on a white sheet. I don't advocate the dreadful - and dangerous - mound of snow from Francesca Zambello's Pikova Dama, but I think the Royal Opera House can manage a more convincing depiction of snow than what I would expect from a typical Primary School.

I also hate the infamous 'Lego' scenery where the Veil Song and subsequent exchanges take place. I can see the attempt to capture the colours and lights of a Moorish setting but it is too obvious and it fails.

I very much like the scenery for the crypt at St Juste, the focus on the tomb that holds Carlo V. It conveys a bigness, which is deliberately awe-inspiring. I like the spareness of the King's chamber, furnished only with a desk and chair, and a prie-dieu and gold monstrance; I am pleased they resisted the temptation to fill the vast space with bed, couches and other soft furnishings.

On the whole I dislike the costumes. I concede that setting it in the correct period historically* requires doublet-and-hose for the men. I can see why there was so much black, in order to provide a contrast with the sparse use of red. But, other than the young Elizabeth's Fontainebleau outfit, none of them was particularly attractive. This photo doesn't show that this is an ankle length coat over trousers in similar material. I was puzzled by the Queen's Ladies all wearing black - surely the colour of mourning, yet none of them covered their heads.

There was more personenregie than in 2008 and more of a sense of the singers responding to each other. There were delightful touches, such as when Posa and Carlo hugged as blood brothers, but rather than being manly hug (perhaps as exemplified by rugger buggers) it was as if Carlo, the weaker of the two, was putting his head on Posa's shoulder, despite the height differences.

The performance brought out well the very different relationships and emotional dependencies. It was not played as a doomed love affair between Carlo and Elizabetta;  that is the golden thread that dictates the linear narrative but it is not the subject of the work.

I think the most important relationship was that between Posa and Carlo, or perhaps between Posa and Flanders. I am searching my memory for some anecdote about some singer or critic enquiring 'what's all this with Flanders anyway?' along the lines of the tenor who was sacked from a recording of Otello for enquiring about the point of the handkerchief. Posa was obsessed by freedom for Flanders, and his love for Carlo led him misguidedly to believe that Carlo could become the leader of the movement for Emancipation. Carlo just wanted to escape Spain, his infatuation with his step-mother and his dysfunctional relationship with his father.

Posa was like a surrogate son to Philip, who could depend upon nobody, being the most powerful man in the world. And yet the King was also dependent upon the Church, personified as the Grand Inquisitor (leader of the Spanish Inquisition, with all that that entails). Verdi was evangelical in his anti-clericism, his dislike of Organised Religion, a theme no less potent today as it was at the time of writing. They may not burn heretics at the stake any more, but their need to meddle destructively in civic life to the detriment of the ordinary people, especially the most vulnerable is undiminished. But the 'Auto-da-fé scene, the climax of everything Verdi wanted to portray regarding the corruption of Church and absolute rule was ruined by extraneous detail. I can only hope that for the next revival they get the message that nobody likes the unscripted shouting during the music and they do away with it.

Eboli came over quite differently from how I have seen her before. For example, Grace Bumbry on DVD portrays her as haughty, but just that. This portrayal showed her to be desperate, verging on the cariacature of the woman who chases anything in doublet-and-hose, and revealing her inner insecurity. It is telling that when Elizabetta banishes her from court for betraying her (to exile or a convent), despite having been the King's mistress, despite having thought Carlo in love with her, despite having the hots for Posa, she exclaims that she will never see her Queen again. I've never seen any reference to this, except in the subtitles/libretto (translation).

Elizabetta's plight is the most pitiable. Even though she was brought up to expect it, and even though she had the partial compensation of living in material comfort, what can be more harrowing than to have leave the place and country of her birth and travel to live in a foreign land. No chance of visits back, no communication except letters. An arranged, or in effect, forced marriage to a 'much older man with grey hair' ** She was a very clear example of Double Standards, her supposed adultery with Carlo being driver of this story; his adultery with Eboli (and others) being accepted and unchallenged. I don't believe that she was really in love with Carlo, but as a teenager she was inevitably attracted to someone of her own age, who wasn't making sexual demands.

But the most chilling aspect was the role of the Grand Inquisitor. I have little sympathy for the King being dependent on him. Both of them were unelected and unaccountable usurpers of power of oppressors of people. But somewhere in the King was a glimpse of humanity; the Grand Inquisitor simply believed that anybody who stood in the way of his grand project should be liquidated. He declared that the King should have no confidant; he declared that Posa must die. Power crazy and merciless, his weapons had such diverse elements as fear, surprise, ruthless efficiency, an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope, and nice red uniforms***

What makes Don Carlo ultimately one of the greatest in the operatic canon is the music. This is where blogging - or any other form of writing falls down. Great music defies words. I can say which bits I like, and why; I can highlight where the use of leitmotifs reinforces the plot, especially in their repeat. The brass in particular were outstanding, in their playing of the G.I. motif, and when Posa's body is borne away, in a passage which surely influenced Wagner's writing for Gotterdammerung,  or the strings in Philip II's great great aria Ella giammai m'amò. There was also a passage where the flutes and piccolo made me catch my breath.

But those who know the work better than me don't need lectures from me; for those for whom the work is relatively unfamiliar, I would strongly advocate listening over and again. I am not a great fan of opera by radio, but I would advocate tuning into Radio 3 on Saturday 17 October (two weeks time) to listen in - check listings nearer the time, I have seen various start times eg 6pm, 7pm. The broadcast won't be of the performance I attended; if it were I would definitely say it was one to keep. Without wishing to dredge up perennial slanging matches, it is a great example of how opera isn't just about 'singing' as some would aver. This would be nothing without the orchestra, but the orchestra writing would never happened without the drama and the characters.

Greatness!

NB I bought my ticket for this performance myself. I did not receive it compliments of ROH or anyone associated with them.

* The historic Don Carlos was the son of Philip II of Spain whose second wife was Mary I of England. . This opera surrounds Phillip's marriage in 1559 to Elizabeth of Valois, the year after the death of Mary (and succession of Elizabeth I of England), when Carlos was 14 and Elizabeth deV 15.  Both Carlos and Elizabeth deV died quite separately in 1568, in their early/mid 20s. The opera, out of Schiller,  has no further historical accuracy.

** in actual fact a 32 year old, but never mind!

*** oh damn, I mentioned the Spanish Inquisition

Don Carlo Insight evening

I went along this evening to the Linbury Theatre in the Royal Opera House to get educated about Verdi's Don Carlo...well, that's my story and I'm sticking to it, because, as it happens, I did get educated.

The first hour was a lecture, followed by questions and answers, by Professor Roger Parker from Kings College, London. It was a serious lecture, talking briefly about the background to the opera, then tackling each Act in turn, before briefly describing each of the main characters and outlining their musical highlights.

I won't try even to summarise what he said. However, although I am going to the Friends' rehearsal on Saturday, I shan't be going to an actual performance until I return from holiday. I shall re-read my notes beforehand, sensibly with a recording playing, and hopefully that will influence my viewing/listening experience, and thus, inevitably, my report.

He mentioned that Verdi referred to it as an opera of ideas, liking the contrast of the spectacle of the big historic scenes and the fraught personal problems and the ensuing confrontations between people. He did also mention several times that it is very very long and complicated, and particularly singled out Act II as being especially long and complicated.

It's important to reflect on that idea of the personal conflicts played out against the big scenes, because they provide the inspiration and motivation for the music. Compared with  Traviata, Rigoletto and Trovatore , there is less use of arias and much more reliance on duets and ensemble pieces. It is particularly important that Verdi himself called it an opera of ideas - as Paul Wynne Griffiths later remarked, it is a bridge between bel canto and verismo; the characters sing what they feel but not for so long as to interrupt the arch of the piece.

Prof Parker played an excerpt from a 1948 recording, in German, which, he commented, really highlighted how much Verdi was a Wagnerist at that stage, using the orchestra to tell the story. Indeed, later on Jonas Kaufmann commented that it has beautiful music, quite different from the oomtata that is typical of Verdi.

The second half of the evening was mainly a panel discussion. Ferruccio Furlanetto (Philip II), Jonas Kaufmann (Don Carlos) and Marianne Cornetti, who is already a replacement Eboli for the pregnant Sonia Ganassi, and this evening was replacement for the indisposed Marina Poplavskaya, (Elizabeth of Valois). The panel was rounded off by Paul Wynne Griffiths, cover conductor.

That was an interesting session, with each of them being asked why they like the opera. Ferruccio says his role  is 50% voice and 50% acting; Philip was the most powerful man on earth at the time but yet under the power of the church - one of the most incredible roles. Marianne said that Eboli is one of the greatest mezzo soprano roles, but also one of the most difficult. Her veil aria must be lyric, and in the garden scene she must be more dramatic, but not go too heavy in order to allow for contrast with O don fatale, which is much heavier.

Jonas picked up the point Prof had made about the absence of big arias for the tenor, but says he loves it very much, and seemed enthusiastic about Schiller's very interesting drama (on which it is based. It's a very demanding role. He said that it has both soft intimate light singing and heldish heavy, depending on the mood and situation;  this is is typical of French operas of that period.

They talked at some length about Semyon Bychkov, who is conducting. They were discussing how he uses a metronome in rehearsal, which was quite a shock - Marianne claimed to still be in shock. Ferruccio said he had worked previously with Bychkov and his metronome and although it was very difficult at first it actually made it easier after the first few days. And they were at pains to emphasise that while he is keen to reflect Verdi's metronomic markings, he also adopts a pragmatic approach when it's not working for the singers. Paul mentioned that Semyon has been working a lot on orchestral colour and balance, remarking that Ferruccio is a thunderbolt (he and John Tomlinson were rehearsing their duet at 10.30 this morning!) whereas Jonas has the quietest yet penetrating mezza voce. Marianne told an amusing anecdote about having rehearsed Ulrica in Ballo with an unnamed conductor who used the metronome. Of course, Ulrica appears only in one scene; when she had finished on opening night, the conductor remarked that she had been a little behind the beat, she said she felt she wasn't, and nameless conductor said she was, he knew, because he had the metronome in the pit. Laughter all round.

They were asked whether they prefer it in French or Italian. Ferruccio was adamant about Italian, because it is a more beautiful language; that the nasal quality of French affect the sound and is uncomfortable. There was a certain amount of laughter, because he would prefer Italian, wouldn't he,  so he said that his favourite role of all is Massenet's Don Quichotte, and that must be in French - all the problems that exist with Don Carlos simply disappear.

The evening finished with Paul Wynne Griffiths giving a short presentation on the importance of semitones in this work, and Jette Parker Young Artist Changan Lim sang Posa's death aria.

The rules of events such as Insight evenings are strictly no photography or recording; they state that to do so may jeopardize future events, so I took no photographs. But for those that need to know, Jonas was dressed in a light brown leather jacket and an off-white polo shirt.

My friend Simon interviewed Jonas. I was glad to see he used a couple of questions I suggested to him - although I am certain he would have thought them for up himself without prompting (future roles, such as Otello and Tristan, and crossover, or the lack of!).

NB I purchased the ticket to this event myself; it was not provided free by the Royal Opera House or any organisation or individual associated with it

this or a similar footnote will appear regularly on reports from performances

Un ballo in maschera at Holland Park

Another review several weeks late. I really need to get disciplined, sooner rather than later! (After this I will still have two outstanding...)

I was filled with apprehension, having endured a rather poor performance of this at Royal Opera House, and even though the reviews suggested that I would be better off at Opera Holland Park, I was still a bit nervous. I can't say I was filled with confidence with the news that the scheduled tenor Rafael Rojas would be miming while David Randall would sing from the pit. I don't know anything about Rafael (except he is the third Mexican tenor to cancel on me this summer), but miming/pit singing never quite works.

I took my seat and then stood up to survey the crowd to find a couple of friends who had said they were sitting in a row several behind mine. Initially, I didn't spot them, but did spot John Major, who, presumably, was playing the role of long-suffering opera husband to Norma.

I always held the view that John Major was probably a perfectly pleasant bloke, but that doesn't alter the fact that he was a Tory Prime Minister, the one who privatised the railways, and generally ran down the NHS. Besides, two disgraced former Lambeth Councillors is one too many at a small opera house. Still, I did think it was very brave of the man who referred to the bastards in his cabinet to attend an opera about a political assassination.

Before the opera started, the people behind me were lamenting the fact that it had been 'updated' and talking of a friend of theirs; for him, opera is everything but he absolutely refuses to go to any updated production.

I think this is such a stupid attitude, because avoiding a particular type of production may mean you miss a glorious vocal performance. There is always the possibility that you might get a better, or different, insight into the story, or you might just be entertained (admittedly, not always in the way the director might have intended). In any case, it strikes me as being totally bizarre to be into a totally unnaturalistic and somewhat unrealistic art-form, and then to demand naturalistic or realistic performances.

The chap did ask the question - why do these companies have to update it? My reaction, thought but not spoken, was that, for a small company like OHP, I bet it means they save a fortune on the costuming budget; probably also on scenery and sets (although OHP don't do sets and scenery in a big way, anyway). Also, and conversely, by allowing the singers to be more naturalistic, it probably allows them to be truer to the characters.

Sometimes people mention that Un ballo is based - very loosely - on historical facts and therefore doesn't stand up to modernisation. To be honest, I think the story is just a great opportunity for emotional outpourings. The story is just 'backstory', the reason why these outpourings are happening, so it doesn't ultimately matter whether it's set in old Sweden, not-so-old Boston, or modern day Washington DC. If anything, it's about power and intrigue.

It was partly set in the Oval Office at the White House: one of the major props/scenery was the seal of the President of the United States. It did cross my mind that there was actually an audience member who had been to the White House, then I remembered that I have, too, and, no doubt, several other people. Although, admittedly, not the Oval Office.

A lot of the events took place under surveillance. There were prominent video cameras, perhaps recording for a fly-on-the-wall type documentary.

One of the most amusing/entertaining bits came in the 'Gallows-field' scene, where Amelia was portrayed as a junkie visiting the ghetto for a fix. Yeah, it didn't follow the logic of the original libretto, but it was not inherently illogical, and didn't interrupt or corrupt the forward momentum of the narrative. For the masked ball scene, they all wore Cristiano Ronaldo masks, which I found far more convincing than those silly Venetian velvet things that just surround the eyes, which are usually used. It would be difficult to identify anyone if they are all wearing Cristiano 'Traitor' Ronaldo masks.

Performance-wise, the orchestra, under Peter Robinson, weren't up to the ROH, but, that having been said, I have no real complaints. Of course, it is much smaller, (but they have a smaller house to fill and they aren't submerged in a pit) and they did just fine.

I thought overall, the cast was vastly superior to the one put out at ROH. OHP's replacement guy was much better than his ROH equivalent. David Randall's voice isn't especially attractive, and there were holes in it. I suspect I noticed these because I am so in love with the tenor role in this opera; I don't think I would have been so picky in a role I didn't know so well. Considering the circumstances, I was pleased at and grateful for his performance. I thought that Rafael Rojas acted the role convincingly. I wouldn't call him a handsome man but he clearly has stage presence and authority, which is essential for this role.

Olafur Sigurdarson was competent as Renato/Ankarstrom/main bastard of the Cabinet. I don't think he put a foot wrong, nor, more importantly, sang a duff note. I think overall his performance was better than the ROH Renato, although, in contrast his Eri Tu was disappointing (although Ballo is primarily a tenor's opera, I will concede that the baritone's Eri Tu is a major highlight - and for the rest of the week my earworm was Di Provenza, the baritone aria from Verdi's Traviata).

Gail Pearson was entertaining as Oscar. I was thrown by the fact that the role was portrayed as female - traditionally, a soprano sings it as a travesti role. If done well, there can be delightfully ambiguous sexual frisson between Riccardo/Gustavo and Oscar. A few reviews said in praise that she made the role less annoying than usual, but I have to confess that I love the annoyingness of a traditional Oscar.

The star was, undoubtedly, Amanda Echalaz as Amelia. To be honest, she's probably just about outgrown OHP - she made an emergency appearance in Tosca at ROH and is headlining at ENO next season.

It was a pleasure to hear a soprano in the role who, in the love duet, didn't sound as though she was in the extremes of period pain. I am sure that the writing is deliberate to bring out her tortured feelings, but there's a fine line between anguish and screeching. She's obviously a star in the making, and I offer criticism of her being far from finished and polished in recognition of the higher standards by which she will be judged. She was excellent by Holland Park standards, and that is no criticism of them, just an acceptance that they don't get the biggest names - but have been shrewd enough to engage Amanda while they can.

All told, it was a highly enjoyable evening that seemed to pass so quickly. A deluge began as the interval was ending; the production was blocked that the chorus processed in twos from the mansion to the stage to arrive for the masked ball. The weather demanded prosaic umbrellas; umbrellas would have ruined a twee Merchant-Ivory frocked production. I didn't find them incongruous or jarring, just a reflection of the reality of attending any sort of swanky social event.

I see that OHP have the list of works for next season up on the website. I'll give Pelleas et Melisande a miss, but the others just entice me in: Carmen, Don Giovanni, Fidelio ('revival of the stunning 2003 Olivia Fuchs production'), Forza and Francesca da Rimini. Unfortunately, they will to a large extent coincide with the time I shall be going crazy over Simon Boccanegra at the Big House at the other end of town. I suspect I shall prioritise the Fs, and see what the casting is for the other two.

All photos: Fritz Curzon, Opera Holland Park website

Un ballo in maschera

Last Thursday.

Casting. How does it work?

Bear in mind that the Royal Opera House is one of the very top opera houses in the world. All the top singers sing there, not necessarily every season, but frequently.

Of course, none of the top houses can fill the casts for all the different productions with the dozen or score of top top top singers, but one would think they would choose singers who could actually manage to sing the roles.

So, we had a Renato (Dalibor Jenis) and an Oscar who only really sounded good in comparison to the rest, and probably would have sounded just ordinary alongside decent singers. We had an Amelia, Angela Marambio with an ugly voice. I heard her squawk, the man in front of me moved his arm up and down like a piston every time she missed a note, two blokes on the terrace in the interval were cruelly but amusingly mimicing her. Other people heard the same on different nights. But yet no one in the actual Royal Opera House noticed? We had an Ulrica, Elena Manistina who was all over the place.

And, finally, we had Mr Stand-In Tenor, Roberto Aronica. Ramón Vargas had called in sick, and, frankly, who wants to be near a Mexican with a cold. So Aronica was flown in that morning to substitute. I am very forgiving of Mr (or Ms) Stand-In. They haven't been to rehearsals of that particular production, so can be forgiven for not knowing the blocking. They may never have met their co-principal, so can be forgiven for an absence of chemistry and spontaneity. They may be unfamiliar with that theatre and almost certainly have no recent knowledge, so may take time to acclimatise.

But, I do expect them to be able to sing the part. Ultimately I don't care if they do so from the wings or the pit, reading from a score on a music stand. And he was poor.

I am not sure what the ROH does regarding covers. They must expect that any one of the cast could go off sick, at short notice, on any given occasion. It's easier if they're running two casts, or at least, have someone who is already scheduled for a couple of performances.

The New York Met retains singers to 'cover' every role, just in case. I think they more or less have to in New York because of the distances involved in flying someone decent in from elsewhere, so I suppose it works there (although management there seems still to want to use a 'name' who may be in rehearsal or passing through or whatever, if possible).

I can't say I would like that system in London; who wants to hear someone who isn't judged good enough even to get a couple of performances scheduled, or to be engaged by a provincial house. And, yet, they can't keep decent singers on stand-by, just in case. So I appreciate that it isn't an easy problem to solve.

Maybe I would have been more forgiving of the tenor if there had been someone in the cast whose singing had been worth the price of the ticket - Dalibor Jenis's Eri Tu was gorgeous, and Anna Christy was chirpy and tuneful throughout.

But it's one of my favourite operas. It wasn't even like I was hoping or expecting it to be as gorgeous as the two versions on DVD (ROH 1975 and Salzburg 1990), I mean, come on. But I had seen this production in its initial run with Alvarez, Mattila, Hampson et al, and its early revival with Margison, Stemme and Hvorostovsky, both of which were all round good casts. Whereas this, it was provincial and aurally painful.

Fortunately, the conductor, Maurizio Benini,  was sensitive to the score and the orchestra was on good form, so I did enjoy the evening, on balance. Gorgeous music.

There were a lot of early departures, and I did consider being one, but I did feel that I had paid a lot for my seat (although only half the price of the seat I eventually sat in!). I was glad I stayed until the end (although I was out the door as soon as the curtain came down).

With an influx of visitors from overseas, it was amusing irritating to witness applause before the end of an aria (note: that comes after the singer finishes), applause for the curtain descending, and, of course, applause for the scenery. Thankfully, as there weren't any stars in it, I didn't also have to endure the applause of the star(s)' entrance(s).

Combatting Cabin Fever

Actually, there are few people in the world less likely to suffer cabin fever. It's not that I'm agoraphobic, just agora-can't-be-arsed. I am ever resourceful in amusing myself and savouring my own company. And it's not like I could ever be bored, with infinite riches of housework to occupy me.

But desperate times call for desperate measures. There is nothing wrong in being a drama queen from time to time. And when there are no buses running and my satellite dish refuses to receive a signal, and cycling seems a less then attractive prospect, I will be as dramatic as I wish!

So Cabin Fever needs to be averted. I have a collection of DVDs which have been somewhat neglected of late. Being that I am half-woman half-anorak, I have a system for playing them which seems to have stalled on 'Figaro'. So I went to the shelf and picked one randomly.

Oh my God! Turn off the lights, cancel the porn!

I have a habit (sometimes good sometimes bad) of multi-tasking. Hey, I'm a woman, I'm can! (insert big smiley)

So during the overture and opening chorus I was drafting an email and not actually looking at the TV. Then I heard this extraordinarily gorgeous voice singing Esultate! and desire shimmered through my body. I looked up and, if anything, my desire increased.

I finished off my email during the drinking and fighting chorus and again, was drawn by Abbasso le spade! Be still, my pounding heart! A prime example of why it's not advisable to meet one's hero! The reason I say this is because meeting Plácido face-to-face as a fan,  he is very sweet, kind, patient, humorous, courteous. Seeing him on this DVD, with his gorgeous eyes flashing with anger and authority and looking somewhat frightening, it can seem a bit strange. Not that I am unable to separate the off-stage persona from the character on stage.

This is, of course, followed by Già nella notte densa. 

Seeing and hearing him sing Già nella notte densa has a much more marked effect on me that any erotica or porn. It's like having the arousal with someting more added. I suppose like the difference between different sorts of sex.

This is, anyway, one of the most erotic duets in music, and of course, much of that can be attributed to Verdi, Boito and Shakespeare, but I have heard lesser tenors sing it with less thrill. It can be enjoyed on several levels: music and words, the foreshadowing of what is to come, the delicate but profound love between Otello and Desdemona, including the 'Ancora un baccio' and the leitmotif which both occur at the end of Act IV, and for me, the way that Plácido performs this. Live, it can take me right to the edge. I don't imagine I am alone in finding this fantasy-provoking. I don't fantasise that I'm Desdemona, nor do I fantasise that I'm Kiri Te Kanawa (or whoever is the supporting soprano). He has this wonderful way of acting these love duets which has me convinced. Tenderness, desire, and staying just this side of a line. I think if I were to list my favourite Domingo scenes, a disproportionate number of them would be duets, which may seem strange - some woman (or, indeed, later, in Sì, pel ciel marmoreo giuro, a man) sharing the limelight. But maybe it just demonstrates how well he reacts to the other person. There is one particular phrase, where she sings Tarda è la notte just before he sings Vien. . .Venere splende - the look on his face. OMG.

Sometimes I go through phases when I don't listen to a lot of music. Sometimes I go through phases when I don't listen to Plácido's voice every day. And it's been a while since I actually sat down to watch an entire opera DVD. So, sometimes I think 'Am I going off him?'. 'Going off' is a relative concept. Sometimes I go off football, or photography, or chocolate. Nevertheless, I occasionally question the ardency of my fervour, the totality of my obsession.

But it only takes one act of this DVD to remind me that I will never go off him. Just superb.

And there are three acts to go yet!

Don Carlo revisited

I returned last night to Covent Garden to see Don Carlo again. Last time, I was well back in the Amphitheatre, this time I was in a Balcony Box on the Left, on an imaginary line that runs behind the conductor.

In almost all respects, it was a much better performance than two weeks ago, for a variety of reasons. In one significant respect it wasn't. Unfortunately, Marina Poplavskaya had called in sick, and was replaced by Victoria Nava. Victoria was nothing special, and although she got through the role adequately, albeit at times with evidence of strain and tiring, and I wouldn't especially avoid her in the future, there was nothing about her voice or dramatic interpretation that grabbed me.

I had been disappointed with Rolando Villazón a couple of weeks ago. I am such an admirer of him as a singer, and I like him a lot as a person, and he was warm and friendly in his greeting. If last time had been my first time hearing him, I would have thought 'what's all the fuss about'. Last night he was stupendous. As soon as he started with 'O Fontainebleu', I just knew he was on fire, and he just got better and better. I could pinpoint a couple of notes that was less than ideal, but you know, a couple of notes in a major part in a long opera, I only mention it to highlight how gorgeous I found his performance. So many times I was 'oh, that's beautiful'!

Although it's called Don Carlo and I'm a tenor nut, one of the great things about this opera is that it has great writing for many voice types. A major major highlight was the confrontation between Philip II and The Grand Inquisitor, Ferruccio Furlanetto and Eric Halfvarson - two basses! Not just vocally - although I found that I 'got' other people's fascination with basses* - but also dramatically, historically, politically, the confrontation between Church and State.

Tangentially, I have been reading a few Philippa Gregory books recently (which are inspiring me to read further about the Tudor era) and It was interesting reflecting on the parallels at a very similar period of history (Philip II had recently been widowed by Mary Tudor).

Indeed, I found Ferruccio Furlanetto to be splendid throughout, as I had found previously, and I also very much liked his Fiesco earlier this spring, and a couple of years back, in  a rather forgettable Forza he had been superb as Padre Guardiano, so it's probably fair to say he's my favourite Verdian bass. I enjoyed Eric Halfvarson as The Grand Inquisitor and Robert Lloyd as the Monk.

I have nothing but praise for Simon Keenlyside as Posa. A dignified and restrained interpretation and vocally gorgeous. I was reduced to tears early in the scene where he visits Carlo in prison, a nervous wreck, his 'Per me giunto è il di supreme...Ah! io morro, ma lieto in core', sounded even more thrilling than on his album Tales of Opera.  Even though I was expecting the gun shot that killed him, I was shaken and bowled over.  And a major highlight was the scene in the crypt at San Giusto, with that amazing duet Dio, che nell'alma infondere, sung brilliantly by both Eyebrows and Shirtless, who were so convincing in their portrayal of blood brothers.

I was more convinced than before by Sonia Ganassi's performance, certainly vocally, although I still didn't warm to her dramatics. And again I was impressed by the strength in depth, especially Pumeza Matshikiza as Tebaldo and Anita Watson, the Voice from heaven (or actually, the Dome of the Opera House)

I thoroughly enjoyed the orchestral performance, and particularly, the orchestral writing. There's some idiot who writes on opera newsgroups and claims fraudulently to be an orchestral musician, who says that Verdi never wrote properly for the orchestra. The man is either an idiot or has never actually heard Don Carlo (or many others of his great operas). Again and again throughout, I was struck by magical passages. Too many to mention them all, but I particularly adored the cellos accompanying and enhancing Ella giammai m'amo, the naive writing for the brass during the auto da fé, and the frequent use of leitmotifs, especially whenever The Grand Inquisitor was mentioned.

I still don't like the production,although I was satisfied that from my seat nearer the front that it did serve the opera reasonably well. Just a shame that that didn't come over to my not-very-cheap-seat halfway back in the Amphi last time. I think it will look good on Big Screen next week (only Trafalgar Square, Canary Wharf and Liverpool ) and subsequently on DVD (which Marina Poplavskaya referred to on mmofm, and Rolando also mentioned last night). For all the attempts of slick scenery, lean acting and so on, the scene that still worked best for me was the splendidly over-the-top auto da fe. Must mention the always excellent chorus in this scene, in particular.

I attended with Jimmy. At the first interval he said he felt it was dragging, going nowhere, but subsequently he bucked up and really enjoyed it. Perhaps he didn't fully realise at the time, the long drawn out first two acts, taking an hour and a half without interval, are needed in order to build up the story for the various dramatic denouements that occur later on.

Also there were Miriam, Tony and Raff whom I know from various yahoo groups, and Janet from simonkeenlyside.info (which contains lots of info about this production - and much more!).

Don Carlo has to rate as one of my favourite operas. I don't wish to waste time rating very different operas into some league table of spurious precision, but I don't like it any less than Ballo or Rigoletto, and objectively it surpasses Otello in some respects (but subjectively, Otello is my favourite Verdi!). It is a profound story. Essentially a story of the loves and lives of individuals, a Big Theme in itself, and one played out against the Political tensions of the historical time (although this isn't a reliable source for the actual history). A couple of years ago I made a point of studying it in some detail - repeated listenings and watchings, and some reading round the subject. The insights I gained are not particularly reflected in the blogpost I wrote (which was never intended to be an essay!) but I would definitely say that the time and effort I afforded have paid dividends over and again. And CD set remains one of the highlights and treasures of my entire collection.

* I generally find it difficult to differentiate low notes as sung by basses, although, intriguingly perhaps, I often find the basses to be the most goose-pimple  part of choral singing.

Don Carlo @ ROH

As I am going again in two weeks, I will write only a 'hit-and-run' report. It's a massive opera, in its five Acts it's Wagnerian in length, although, sadly, without the Wagnerian supper interval.

Caveat: I was in row M of Amphi, too far away to be entirely satisfied

An opera full of glorious music from start to finish, a complex story involving personal relationships in a (quasi-) historical and political context.

I hated the production. Turgid and static, Met trash in a deceptive set. Oh, by the way, most of these comments don't apply to the "What a Day for an Auto da fé" scene.

The set was always dark. Too dark merely to give a noir mood. Just dark. Admittedly, I was more aware of the failings of the lighting having had someone (a reader) explain to me a few shortcomings in other productions. However, just to give one example, when Eboli started to park-and-bark sing 'O Don Fatale' (one of the great mezzo arias, one of the big 'numbers' of the work) she started off standing in the spotlight, raising the arm that signals despair, before clenching both fists, and going to sit down at the table to signify utter despair. Her former parking-space remained lit; her new sitting place was in complete darkness.

There was very little movement on stage at all. When there was movement, I presume it had been introduced by the singers themselves, in contradiction of the director rather than by instruction. A production built for singers such as Rolando Villazón and Simon Keenlyside should have had far more movement; they are both agile around stage and natural movers.

Actually, I lie: at various times in the production, various characters ran off or on stage. The chorus was blocked horrendously. Particularly noticeable when the Ladies were in the Queen's Garden and Eboli was entertaining with the Saracen Song. A lot of it was AmDram style. Particularly farcical was the scene just as Posa is killed and they realise there is a riot outside. Just before the back scrim rises to reveal the riotous mob, the line of soldiers do the campest most hilariously inappropriate dance. Oh dear.

The hype leading up has made a big deal of how it was set in the actual time it was set, 16th Century, so I wondered why the King (Philip II) was initially dressed as a 17th century Puritan. And why the Queen's Garden was in front of a wall straight out of a 1970s Habitat catalogue.

Most of the time I detested what was basically a concert performance in costume with cheap sets (mainly scrims).

But then, bizarrely, Act II scene ii, the auto da fé was Zefferelli-like in its vulgarity (although, perversely, I liked it), with its Cecil B de Mille cast of thousands, its overacting chorus/crowd of revolting peasants and its bright colours. Being high up in the theatre, I didn't see Vallodolid cathedral in all its glory,which is regrettable, but I don't think removed anything from the action.

Plenty of photos at Arena Pal

The costumes were as unremittingly dull as the production, the highlight being - and I am shocked that nobody else has picked up on this - Eric Halfvarson as the Grand Inquisitor made up to look like Joseph Ratzinger - who of course held this job immediately before becoming Pope. Oh, the biting satire (completely out of place in such a lame production).

The singers were variable. Much as I love Rolando, I was disappointed, particularly in the first two acts. It must be a nightmare role where the most important aria of the entire opera is right at the beginning, (when that man in row N, on the aisle is still actually talking to his wife) but, bluntly he didn't seem the Rolando I know and love from Hoffmann, Rigoletto and Eugene Onegin, and numerous recordings, live and studio. As the night progressed so did his vocal condition. I think the critics who are saying his career is over are wrong, but I don't think that this is really an ideal role for him. Such a beautiful voice in lyrical roles; please don't go the José Carreras/Roberto Alagna route of ruining a gorgeous instrument by choosing the wrong roles.

I found his acting subdued, as was Simon Keenlyside's. I blame the director, because they are so suitable for serious stage work. Simon sounded fabulous, probably the best I have heard him (on form in an opera I love). Rolando at least got over to me that Carlo was adolescent and stunted in his emotions, whereas Simon, I am afraid, conveyed merely that Posa was a gorgeous singer who winced when he was dying of being shot.

Marina Poplavskaya once again showed her vocal potential as Elizabetta. She is far from the finished article and I find her a bit wooden in her acting, but she is gorgeous vocally and physically.

Ferruccio Furlanetto was outstanding as Philip II. Extraordinary that me, not a bass-fancier by any stretch, has managed to be well impressed by two of them this summer! He managed to convey such dignity as the king.

I didn't mind Sonia Ganassi as Eboli, although she was nothing special. Particularly not in the acting which was 'emote by semaphore'.

Luxury casting for Eric Halfvarson as the Grand Inquisitor, and Robert Lloyd as the Monk/Charles V HRE. Also hon mensh to Anita Watson (Voice of Heaven) and Pumeza Matshikiza (Tebaldo), both of them Jette Parker Young Artists.

Tony Pappano waved the stick. A lot of critics have singled out the conductor and orchestra for multi-star rating, but, to be honest, they never fully set me on fire, even though the playing was always beautiful.

I did enjoy it, because it managed to be greater than the sum of its parts,and I am looking forward to seeing it again in a fortnight. I wonder if I will like the production any better then!

Simon Boccanegra

I approached Tuesday night's performance at Covent Garden with mixed expectations. I do not know the opera as well as I ought to, although what I know I love. The cast had no 'pull' factor for me, but I also knew that a cast of singers of international renown should be sufficient to make a Verdi opera an enjoyable experience.

And I did enjoy, despite rather than because of the cast, and certainly despite the production, which was superficially pretty to look at but really quite amateur in its Met Trash ineptitude. Moments of great emotion, such as when Simon and Amelia realise they are long-lost father-daughter, were destroyed by the casual lack of interaction - her reaction was to walk to the edge of the set and sit down with her back to him, while he did a good statue impression. There was far too much concentration on park-and-bark, with far too many arias and phrases delivered from the front of stage, as if in concert. Most of the time the chorus stood around in a semi-circle, except at one point when they injected excitement by lining up along the front of the stage like an Infant School Assembly. And, bizarrely, in the Council Chamber scene, they rushed in and set the carefully arranged stools tumbling down the stairs.

The set was pretty much the same in all acts, regardless of whether it was outside Fiesco's house in Act I, in the garden, or in the Council chamber. Changes were signified by adding a branch of a tree or a 2-D cardboard cut-out of a ship.

Simon was sung by Lucio Gallo. At first I thought he sounded dreadful, then I began to realise that he was in distress. He hung on until the final act, when Marco Vratogna, who had already impressed as Paolo, took over with music stand from where the front of stage meets the wings - a bizarre plot twist where Paolo not only administers slow poison to Simon but also usurps his role!

Nina Stemme had originally been scheduled to sing Maria/Amelia but decided not to take on the role, so Anja Harteros was brought in late. She couldn't make a couple of performances, so we had Natalia Ushakova instead, the third choice. She wasn't up to scratch, very squawky. One woman commented that we don't pay Covent Garden prices to hear students. There were departures at half time.

Marcus Haddock was acceptable as Gabriel Adorno, but only in the sense that he was a third-rate tenor outclassing the fourth rate around him. The star of the evening was Ferruccio Furlanetto. He was originally called in to replace Orlin Anastassov on the first night, because he was already in town for Don Carlo, and he remains for most of the run. I enjoyed him in Forza a couple of years back and am definitely looking forward to him as Philip II in Don Carlo. Hon mensh in the singing also to Jette-Parker Young Artist Krzysztof Szumanski.

I enjoyed the music, although subsequently I overheard someone commenting that she never really heard the sea come through; I concur. It does seem a bit strange to have John Eliot Gardiner conduct Verdi, and I suppose it was how you would expect JEG to conduct Verdi.

Quite separately, two different people remarked to me that they assumed I was looking forward to the 2010 revival; indeed I am, and I especially noted that in the final scene Simon Boccanegra does a lot of baritonal rolling around on the floor. However, one of those people, and a third, have remarked 'supposing we can get tickets...' which means two years of TASS (Ticket Acquisition Stress Syndrome). Sigh

Traviata round-up

From the Main Stream Media and blogs

Truly great performances of Verdi's La Traviata come along once in a generation, and this astonishing revival of Richard Eyre's 1994 Royal Opera production may well go down in history as one of the defining operatic experiences of our times. (Five stars)

La traviata: Ecstasy greets a rising star

Until last night sheer bad luck had shielded me from the full-on Anna Netrebko experience. But now that I’ve seen, heard, and inwardly drooled over the sensational 36-year-old Russian soprano at first hand, there’s no going back. (Four stars)

Be seduced by a superstar (Four stars)

The Violetta for our time

After an unpredictably drab first act, the Royal Opera's outing of La Traviata on Monday evening inexplicably transformed into a gripping and brilliant piece of theatre. Anna Netrebko and Jonas Kaufmann are a physically beautiful and musically sensational pairing as Violetta and Alfredo. (Four stars)

Verdi's La traviata (Four stars)

Brava Ermonela Jaho (Netrebko u can go home now) (with photos)

Seats? Overrated. and Piss

The opera was magic! Opera isn’t boring - no way!

Una diosa junto al Támesis

The Independent also has a review but their server seems to be down more than it's up. Amateurism.

I've added some photos to my entry below, which will be obvious to those actually reading the blog but not to those in a Feedreader (which, obviously, is the best way to read blogs if you have a lot to read!). I was a bit far away to get them any less grainy. Plus, those in front-of-curtain-calls are less well lit than full stage ones. 

Proper professional pictures at Arena Pal (if that link doesn't work try Arena Pal and search on 'Traviata'

Update: Managed to get the Independent working, and, guess what My week: Jonas Kaufmann
The Royal Opera House star on the week he sang opposite a leading lady he had only just met

Traviata at ROH

So, I went last night.

I arrived and saw that staff were handing out sheets of paper on letter-headed paper. "A very significant cancellation" said the woman handing them out. I had read that Jonas had a bit of a cold on Monday, and he is a bit of a habitual canceller, so I felt myself trembling. It was explained that Anna had cancelled. (They had sent out an email earlier in the day but I often don't check my home emails from work). I ought to have been disappointed but my emotional reaction was relief that it wasn't Jonas. Illogical, because the opera is called La Traviata and even though I am a tenor nut, I have never argued that it should be renamed. And when the season was originally announced, I was disappointed that this was all that Jonas (and Dmitri) was down for, and I am much happier that he's now also doing Cavaradossi in the summer.

The replacement was Ermonela Jaho. Who, you might ask. An Albanian soprano who debuted this role in Tirana aged 17. I overheard someone say that she has sing it in a lot of places and they're hardly second rate. They meant  that positively, as in, they are decent regional houses, while I thought 'hardly second rate, more like third rate'. I was puzzled - it's such a frequently performed role there must be no end of second rate sopranos perfectly capable of standing in, so why get a soprano that nobody has even heard of. Although I did pause to consider the fact that she was flown in from New York. Why was she in New York? Is she perhaps engaged as a cover? (The New York Metropolitan Opera engages covers for all its roles because, owing to geographical reasons, it cannot rely on flying in good quality singers from elsewhere, unlike Western and Central European houses where there are always decent singers an hour or two away, in rehearsal or working at home).

There was a bit of drama even before curtain up when a wedding party settled into one of the Grand Tier boxes. Bride in meringue and veil, sitting next to a bloke who was presumably the groom, and behind them an older couple, presumably some permutation of parents of the couple. Some people applauded. I didn't. I don't know, it seemed a bit ostentatious, wearing the full gown and all. Someone near me used her binoculars and announced bride to be about forty, like she disapproved...I do wonder about women of about forty playing 'the innocent virgin' - it all seems a bit demeaning and insincere. And it was a bit 'look at me look at me'. But they weren't interfering with anyone else's enjoyment, so what's the harm?

Anyway, the opera. Very familiar, of course. One of the most popular Verdi operas but not actually in my top five of Verdi. I don't dislike it in anyway whatsoever, but, despite the pretty tunes and nice dresses I prefer Otello, Ballo, Don Carlos, Rigoletto, Trovatore, Forza and so on. I probably prefer it to Stiffelio and Simon Boccanegra (but I think they have more profound and moving stories) and definitely to Aida and Falstaff.

An old production, made famous by the Solti/Gheorghiu DVD. A production that works without ever having a 'wow' factor. I have read a few comments this week about how the set for Violetta's opening party is claustrophobic. I thought about that and decided that that is apt. Violetta is a courtesan and thus well off financially, but she's definitely not aristocratic, so although her house may have a veneer of grandness, she wouldn't have expansive palatial rooms like an aristo, and so her party would be cramped. Throughout, the scenery is pretty and pleasant. The personenregie and blocking is basic, again functional, and dependent on the individual interpretation of the performers. So, a natural acting singer like Jonas Kaufmann comes over better than many second rate tenors would. The role of Germont pere suits Dmitri Hvorostovsky's stage demeanour - dignified, haughty and inscrutable (strange that he comes over this way when in role, whereas in concert he comes over as relaxed and fun-loving!). I found the 'bullfight scene' less dreadful than on the DVD where it encapsulates naffness. I thought the Flamenco dancers to be a bit pathetic, especially when contrasted with last season's Carmen, shown on TV over Christmas.

There are numerous lesser roles, all of them sung/performed capably without being stand-out. The orchestra were mainly competent. I didn't notice anything going horribly wrong but nor did I have any moments where I marvelled. I enjoyed the pretty and familiar tunes.

I used my binoculars a lot, to enjoy the facial and physical beauty of our two leading men. I also noticed that Herr Hunkentenor is obviously thinning on top and at the back, and our Siberian Tiger has a noticeably receding hairline. Such is life! Both of them were a beauty to watch. And delightful to hear.

People say Dima isn't a "Verdi baritone". I don't really know what a Verdi baritone is but what did strike me was that he sounds a lot more gorgeous in the lower part of his range than towards the top where there was a strange tone. Not a strain. His Di Provenza il mar was wonderful and moving and well-deserved of sustained applause.

I was not sure what to make of Jonas. I went in with such high expectations even though I knew that this was not the work in which they would be fulfilled. I have read two separate people write that he can't be heard, which is not something that I would say. He doesn't belt out every phrase at full fortissimo, but tell me one decent tenor who does. I never felt he was drowned by the orchestra, and when he was singing quietly - yet audibly - it was musical and dramatic reasons. I really like the tone and timbre of his voice, and his sense of phrasing and so on. It didn't especially strike me as being beautiful, I think his beauty comes out in more meaty parts - Don José from last season, Florestan which I have on record, and I suspect in the future Cavaradossi and Don Carlo, as well as Wagner roles present and future. I think if I had gone in knowing nothing of him, I would have thought him marvellous, but this wasn't the performance to give him pole-position in the "MMOFM Best Tenor Under Sixtysomething Stakes", so the gauntlet is passed to Marcelo Alvarez in April. It's not like I could fault his performance but it just lacked that final coup de grace. There was a moment in Act III when Jonas and Dmitri were singing together and I thought 'I would love to hear them then in the Don Carlo/Posa duet.  Dmitri is Posa in Paris this summer, and it would be rather wonderful if he could be in the ROH revival next year.

And finally, what of Ermonela Jaho. I went into the performance thinking 'remember, she's a last minute fill-in, be grateful if she gets through without mishap". I came out believing in fairy tales. That is not to say she was superb, nor that people who had been knocked over by Anna Netrebko on Monday were fully satisfied. I tend to judge performances on the overall impact and on this basis I would say she came out well. Certainly after the first act. I didn't hear her sing anything wrong, but an acquaintance did point out something ropey in the Sempre Libera, a phrase going awry. In Act II, there was a point in the duet with Jonas that didn't sound right. I couldn't put my finger on it, other than a vague sense of discordance. I couldn't work out whether it was the singers being out of step  with each other, or with the orchestra or what (but I have read criticisms from Monday's opener of the orchestra losing its way under Maurizio Benini, so that might have been the cause. In any case I was not in a critical frame of mind, I think I had already decided to relax, sit back and indulge in a bit of pampering.

My opinions of her changed as the opera progressed. In Act I, I was very much of the view that this was a fill-in person. She seemed to know the production well, I can't lay my hand on the list of places to which this production has been lent, to compare it with the list of places she has done it. There were no clues that she was un(der)-rehearsed. Act II was impressive, in that I forgot that this was stand-in woman, and Act III was tremendous,  a really convincing portrayal and some gorgeous vocalism. At the top, she is slightly reminiscent of Angela Gheorghiu (which is not to crown her the second Gheorghiu, of course),  although her middle range can sound a bit muddy at times. She moves well around stage and seemed good at portrayed the internalised anguish of Violetta, although lacking the ability of Netrebko and Gheorghiu to reach beyond the footlights and ooze stage charisma.

At the end she took a solo curtain call to loud, raucous and enthusiastic applause. Naturally, some of that was the customary 'thank you for saving the show' but I am sure that if she had been scheduled from the start, she would have got enthusiastic applause and 'brava's on the strength of the performance. I doubt that she has anything scheduled at Covent Garden, but I would not be surprised to see her name crop up in future seasons perhaps for a routine revival or a B cast. I think she has certainly earned the right.

I went to the Stage Door afterwards, but there was a 'Sponsor's Reception' taking place and word came down (eventually) that it wasn't worth waiting.

Rigoletto at Covent Garden

Just a quick hit-and-run review because I need to go to bed.

It was fabulous!

A great great opera and a good, intelligent production - I'm even getting to like the sets! A superb orchestral rendition under the baton of Renato Palumbo.

And a wonderful cast. Not exactly star names, but every single singer from the comprimarii to the three main roles were superb and just about perfect for their roles. Patrizia Ciofi as Gilda - gorgeous; Franz Grundheber in the title role - compelling; and Wookyung Kim as the Duke of Mantua... oh my god, so unbelievably gorgeous, his singing made me cry and then scream in applause. And a natural for the part, acting wise. More later (but not before I've written up Lakme and Don Giovanni from last week).

Definitely my best performance of 2007 at Covent Garden. And I've just booked two tickets for the Saturday matinee - restricted view but Stalls Circle. Wey hey!

Falstaff

Verdi as you've never heard him before. His last opera, premiered in 1893 when he was almost 80 years old, six years after Otello, which itself came 16 years after Aida.

After Shakespeare. I know Falstaff from Henry IV Part I which was an O-Level set text, but I don't know Merry Wives of Windsor. Wikipedia

This is on Sky Arts quite often, a cast made up mainly of singers just below star status. And Juan Diego Florez, who wasn't as stellar then as he is now. Coincidentally, it was the first thing recorded onto my Sky+ Box and by alphabetical chance it happens to be the first video I have transferred to DVD.

The production is boringly traditional, costumes an approximation to Elizabethan clothes, the sets seemingly painted flats, much of the singing delivered by people standing static at the front of the stage facing forward, might as well be a concert performance. Or the Village G&S Society's annual Mikado. (I wrote that before I realised it was a recreation of a 1913 production; I just have to ask why!).

Story quite simple - John Falstaff has written almost identical letters to various married women in the village. They compare notes and conspire...Meanwhile, Fenton and Nannetta are courting illicitly. Their music is more lyrical and in a much brighter key than that of the older folk, whose music is more conversational, on the whole. The conspiracy consists of them arranging an assignation, getting various men of the village in on the conspiracy, putting Falstaff in a linen chest and throwing him in the Thames, and then meeting up later in the woods to really teach him a lesson.

I've not explained this particularly well but Wikipedia has a more detailed synopsis

This isn't a 'pretty tunes' opera where you can go away whistling the tunes. Some people emphasise the modernism, but it isn't 'modern' in a twelve-tone anti-melodic way.

I have seen it a few times and it has yet to make the same overwhelming impression as most of his middle and late operas do. I do recognise that it is regarded as less accessible, a deliberate change in style. One thing I will say for it is that it is infinitely better than Vaughan Williams' version, Sir John in Love, which I had the misfortune to endure at ENO last year. But that us damning with faint praise.

I have tried so hard to like it, I have watched it three times in just the past couple of weeks. I have tried so hard to concentrate but keep finding that my attention is drawn by other distractions. I know I should try harder, I know that rewards grow proportionate to the efforts made. But I just can't make myself go that extra distance. I know full well that Falstaff is different from all of Verdi's other operas. Liking Falstaff is the sign of a thinking person, dilettantes don't get it. So I'm a Philistine shrug. Maybe I'll get it one day, but I'm not going to beat myself up in the process. Perhaps if I were to see it live, with a top cast or a great production, I would like it more. And I certainly wouldn't avoid it, as such, although it would be at most Priority 2 in weighing up cost, time, energy etc.

I kind of understand that part of the attraction is the characters. The trouble is, I feel no empathy for them. I think we are supposed to really like Falstaff as an embodiment of so much of the human spirit, the self-delusion, the gluttony, the unprincipled behaviour. But I'm afraid I just don't get that either. Sure, there are loads of people out there like him, but so what shrugs

I'm sorry, I set off to blog about every opera I own in alphabetical order, attempting to study them with some care, and to try and convey my unique personal insight...not that I'm claiming any special insight, just that this is my blog, and it's just a place where I write, like a private diary that I happen to allow other people to read, and in writing reviews of things, my primary customer is me (I also hope that readers enjoy what I write, but I'm not writing with the intention of drawing attention). I have approximately 250 versions of 125 operas, and growing, so life is too short to get too worked up about one I don't get anything out of.

Stiffelio at Covent Garden

I went to this with quite low expectations. The critics, pro-and-am, had been underwhelmed and underwhelming. It is not a Verdi opera with which I am especially familiar. I do have a taped-off-the-telly video of this same production from 1993, with José Carreras and Catherine Malfitano, but it's not Josep at his best and Catherine, I can take or leave. I have also downloaded a 1995 Madrid performance, but as I am yet to teach my PC to play .avi files, I am yet to watch it. I would provide a link to the ROH website but that is out of order until Thursday...

The cast: Stiffelio – José Cura
Lina – Sondra Radvanovsky
Stankar – Roberto Frontali
Raffaele von Leuthold – Reinaldo Macias
Jorg – Alastair Miles
Federico di Frengel – Nikola Matišic
Dorotea – Liora Grodnikaite

Stick-waver - Mark Elder

My major gripe was that throughout, the directorial conceit was only partly to raise the front-drop, so that the surtitles were actually projected onto this. I know I had a cheap ticket, but when I bought it as restricted view, knowing that I would not be able to see the portion of the set under the overhang, I had expected to be able to see more than just the front of the stage. There was a (Croatian) couple sitting next to me; she said she will complain when she gets her feedback email; he had a wry sense of humour and suggested that we got a good impression of the church and churchyard.

There was a point in the first act when I questioned whether I would last beyond the interval, but I'm glad that I did, because it got a lot better.

Regarding the singers, I thought Sondra Radvanovsky was awful, but 80% of a random sample of strangers disagreed - although one suggested it was a voice you either love or hate: she 'loves' but can understand the 'hate'. In fairness, as far as I could tell, she had very good sense of pitch and a good sense of phrasing, and below about halfway down the staff she had a pleasant if unremarkable tone.

But as she moved up, the tone was increasingly unpleasant. I found that just about everything above the staff was screeched or squawked loudly. It was physically grating, almost painful, to hear, like a cat in heat: I almost ended up blocking my ears. And at times, it really jarred - especially at the start of the final scene, when the church congregation are singing completely gorgeously and devotionally and she keeps coming in with these incongruous yells. I think I will try and avoid her in future, or tolerate her only if co-stars and/or the opera are unmissable.

José Cura was curious. I am tempted to say a Curate's Egg, but that is too much alliteration, and, anyway, his role was pastor, not curate. A really amazing stage presence and intense believable acting; I was particularly impressed by his dramatic fall to the floor in despair on finding the truth of Lina's adultery. And, I have to confess that at one point I did have the thought 'I wouldn't kick him out of bed'. Vocally, I am not so sure. At times he sounded more baritonal than any tenor I have ever heard, which in itself is not a bad thing, but it did reveal many strains on higher notes. And in places I felt there was such an absence of lyricism in his voice that I just felt sad. But then, there was much to please: 'Ah sì, voliamo al tempio' was a thing of sheer beauty.

My favourite singer was Roberto Frontali as Stankar, although I would say he was not exactly top drawer. I found his legato exquisite but his passaggio was troublesome. Not a great actor but with considerable dignity. I ended up having considerable sympathy for his character against my better instinct. I think I would enjoy him tremendously as Germont pere and probably as Renato in Ballo. I also really liked Alastair Miles as the religious-extremist freak Jorg, although it was a relatively small role that did not showcase his ability very much.

But what made the evening worthwhile was the music and the story. The music is not as instantly hummable or memorable as that from Verdi's Middle Period, and not as dramatic as Don Carlo(s), Aida, Verdi etc. But it is a wonderful addition to the Verdi repertoire. I say that because its Covent Garden première was as recently as 1993, and the manuscript was found during my lifetime! Particularly memorable is the liturgical music; the graveyard scene is moving and gorgeous, with superb writing for off-stage chorus.

I have found myself purchasing the recommended recording - Verdi - Stiffelio and I shall work out how to watch .avi files!

The story is compelling and thought provoking. Basically, a story about adultery - Lina had an affair in her Pastor husband's absence, which was a dishonour to her father. Of course, with my 21st century sensibilities, I would take the view that these things are best forgotten and forgiven, or, at least swept under the carpet, which would lead to greater happiness.

And I was very angry about these men thinking with their dicks. It was as if, for Stiffelio, the thought of having to put it where another dick had been was more unbearable than the thought of losing the wife he claimed to love. And for the father, her shame in letting some man in was so great that he was morally justified in killing the man. Being entirely cynical, I would expect that Stiffelio had his end away with some naive innocent hero-worshipper when visiting his far-flung congregation. And Stankor was a retired great soldier. Hmm. But my 21st century reaction only serves to highlight the impossibility of the situation in a strict Protestant sect in the 19th century. Nothing was worse than a woman to 'be seduced'; the consequences were ruination, both economically and reputationally. Conveniently divorced from her husband (because he had married under a pseudonym) and outcast from her family. In the end Stiffelio forgave her, because a random passage in the bible instructed him to. This accords with both Verdi's and my view of religion - that the hypocrites running the organised church usually forget the real meaning of the Bible in their desire to be seen as devotional.

In conclusion, a worthwhile evening, but a qualified success.

Update: And then there's this...

Ernani

Romping through the operas-on-video alphabetically, we come to Ernani, a hidden gem, and a vastly underrated opera from 1844, early in his early period.   

The opening chorus tells you  it's going to be gloriously tuneful. Then this gorgeous tenor appears, and you just know who's side you're  going to be on! Even before he opens his mouth, you think: lie back on the sofa and purr with anticipation. Opening aria is just gorgeous! And leads into a first scene dominated by Ernani. The tessitura is quite high lying, and  I suppose for those who don't like Pláci, it's an example they would give of him straining for the high notes. But I don't hear it as straining, more as a vulnerability, which I find appealing. He's looking very sexy, in tight silky breeches that emphasise the loveliness of his thighs.

The next scene is Elvira's. She  is dressing in her chamber with her maids, pining for Ernani as she contemplates her pending Forced Marriage Against Her Will with her evil Guardian and Uncle, Don Ruy Gomez de Silva.

I suppose this illustrates the shortcomings of inexperienced Verdi. The systematic move from emphasising first one character then the other.  Not much of interest coming from "stand and bark" Freni. No, that's unfair. she's not barking, but she's not in the best vocal condition, and while it all sounds fine to my ears in terms of pitch, rhythm etc, it's just not a particularly beautiful sound and she doesn't really sound much like a girl poised on the brink of womanhood.