Gertsamtkunstwerk

Die Walküre (Cycle 3) Act II

The lights went down and Antonio Pappano was cheered to the podium. The curtain opened to reveal John Tomlinson as Wotan performing an act very close to furniture abuse - rifling through a pile of books on the floor and flinging them away. I presume this is Valhalla,, although it bears an uncanny resemblance to The Hundings' place back on earth. I suppose this retrospectively underlines Hunding's religious devotion, perhaps this included careful perusal of the Ancient Norse Mythological version of Hello magazine. There was the same table, set exactly as it had been in Act I, with even the overturned chair in the same position. The chaise longue was also there, now upended. At the back we saw a smashed window, on the left hand wall at the back was a lopsided bookcase. Wotan's pile of books was in the centre of the stage, next to a hole in the ground, similar to that which had led from his old gaffe to Nibelheim, and perhaps most importantly, the double helix, its lowest horizontal being the roots of the ash tree of life. And there was red rope.

I proceeded to get an attack of the stupids in quite spectacularly brain-dead style. I was confused by the music, which sounded a bit like the Ride of the Valkyries, and there were various Valkyries dancing around. I actually thought for a moment that somehow I had missed Act II and we were actually in Act III. How likely was that to happen? Then Wotan addressed Brunnhilde - Lisa Gasteen - and told her to saddle her horse and ride off into battle to ensure the Wälsung wins. I snapped to, and realised that of course it was Act II. We see Brunnhilde  being playful and carefree, her 'Hojotoho's prompted by Wotan's playful goading with his spear.

Next,  the interminable scene between Wotan and Fricka. It's quite a difficult scene because it is extremely important dramatically, explaining why Wotan has to behave the way he does, the nature of the relationship between Wotan and Fricka, his wife and the goddess of marriage, and a discourse on free will. But nothing actually happens, the vocal writing is possibly the least interesting in the entire opera, and it was not especially beautiful listening.

Rosalind Plowright portrayed Fricka convincingly, but I just didn't find her voice particularly attractive. John T is dramatically and physically the incarnation of Wotan, but parts of his voice are totally shot to pieces. I did pause to consider that Bryn Terfel would have sounded like in the role (I have heard him sing it three times) and while I will concede that if he had been bothered to turn up he would have hit every note and on pitch and sounded beautiful, but Bryn Who? wasn't missed by the occupant of my seat. Sir John T did a marvellous job of covering up for the areas where his voice is past its best. In some passages, rather than sing, he declaimed in a way that was not speaking, not parlando, and certainly not singing, but, you know, it really worked. And throughout, his acting was total and intense.

Fricka left and Brunnhilde arrived for what seems like a very long scene. I have a very weird habit, or talent, or weakness of managing to be awake and asleep simultaneously. So, I can be fully aware of what is going on on stage and yet have absolutely no control over what is going on in my head, so I am watching the action, listening to the music, incapable of reading the surtitles and unable to intellectualise what I can sense, whilst totally unconnected thoughts, scenarios and hallucinations are flashing uncontrolled through my mind. It is different from when I am falling asleep and is different again from when I am actively day-dreaming or fantasising. So I can't tell you a great deal about that scene, although  reading  through the libretto tells me I didn't actually  miss any of it, never actually drifted away.

I came dramatically back to a state ofcompos mentis when Wotan dramatically issued the curse onto the son of the Nibelung, and was witness to the poignant dialogue when Wotan, against his own will, orders Brunnhilde to ensure the death of Siegmund, in accordance with Fricka's decree and against the will of Brunnhilde herself (but she has no free will, anyway).

Dramatic music heralds the return of Sieglinde and Siegmunde, hauling themselves though the wilds of the Rhineland and across the stage with only the red rope, which Brunnhilde had attached to the chaise longue, to guide them. The exchange between them is intimate and sad; the love between them is true, but wrong, and doomed.

The most amazing music of the evening creates a palpable frisson around the theatre as an orchestral interlude introduces the second great scene of the opera. I'm not sure whether it's quite correct to describe Brunnhilde's comment as a Chat-up Line, perhaps more of a come-on, indeed, literally, a summoning of Siegmund to accompany her Nur Todgeweihten taugt mein Anblick; wer mich erschaut der scheidet vom Lebenslicht., basically,whoever gazes on me is doomed to die...I can't quite remember the exact translation used in the surtitle, but it sends a chill through me every time, and definitely qualifies as one of the better invitations of the evening.

It's an extraordinary scene, one that is given poignancy by being acted with utter dignity, poise and restraint, the slow question and answer, that makes me well up with tears as I write about it, his hope that in Valhalla he will find his father (still not realising that his father Walse is in fact Wotan in disguise, that Brunnhilde is also his sister); and the dignity and heartbreak of  "So grüsse mir Walhall, grüsse mir Wotan..." Unfortunately, this was not the vocal highlight of the evening, and, with hysterical over-reaction being not just my forte but also my default mode, I actually thought for one ghastly moment "this is the end of a long and beautiful career". The next phrase was long and very beautiful, and I breathed again. He recovered well, and when he got to "Zwei Leben lachen dir hier: nimm sie, Notung" he was powerful, dramatic, amazing. But in that passage, one of my very favourite, he had sounded strained and struggling, a bit phlegmy, perhaps not helped by singing in a kneeling position.

After that scene the final scene is almost a let-down, as if it was almost an afterthought by Wotan - fling in a Mad Scene from Sieglinde, but a bit of a half-hearted one; oh, better make sure we kill off that Walsung Boy, who's now a dramatic inconvenience. As I wrote in a previous post, I do get a secret pleasure (okay, not so secret because I've written in on the internet on a blog that's getting a lot of search requests today for 'Die Walküre'  - patience, please...) from that death scene. A small dramatic device which speaks volumes is when Wotan pauses to look at the corpse of Siegmund, conveying regret, sorrow, knowledge that his own days are limited. Very clever...

Blinking again into the light, a dash to the Ladies, where I discover my mascara has streaked all down my face...hmm, how did that happen...and then outside onto Floral Street, which, to my surprise, is all dark. Damned clock changes.

Guess who I saw this afternoon...

Actually, that really doesn't work well as the heading for a blog post if I insist on using categories on said blog. The answer is obvious before you've even read the post title.

So all that remains is for me to tell you the circumstances in which I saw Plácido Domingo this afternoon. Do I make it seem that I was just going about my normal boring Saturday afternoon business and just happened, just by chance, to meet him.

Or do I tell the truth?

On balance I think it better to tell the truth, because otherwise it would actually seem that I was stalking him. And would I do that!

I suggested to some Ladies Who Like Opera that it would be a splendid idea to meet up for afternoon tea in a certain hotel in the West End of London. I like Afternoon Tea. It's a very civilised thing to do. Two of the Ladies had previously had Afternoon Tea there. I had previously had it in two other top London venues, but never there. The fourth is visiting from foreign parts. (They can identify themselves if they wish; I never feel entirely comfortable reporting the identities of my companions, because that becomes their lives, rather than mine, that I'm writing about). I could pretend that this was an entirely random decision, but I don't think you'd believe me. I chose that hotel, on this Saturday, because I had reason to believe he is probably staying there. But although I hoped - dreamed - that I might see him, I didn't realistically expect to, and would not have made any effort to try and make this happen (despite my light-hearted question as to whether anyone knew the internal layout of the hotel).

I had originally suggested 4pm, one had countered with a 3pm suggestion because she is on call from her office. In the event, the hotel could only offer us midday-ish, or 5.30pm. I chose 5.30, because midday is just too early for afternoon tea. We arranged to meet in the hotel reception, allowing a few minutes grace. Three of us were in there, one absorbed in responding to an on-call call vis a vis her office, the other two of us discussing a matter of recent news coverage.

I just glanced beyond the Lady with whom I was conversing, and, to my surprise I saw this man I recognised. He smiled at me even before I went through that the split second process of thinking 'Oh my god, it's him!" . I said Hello, he said Hello, and he continued on his way, back into the body of the hotel. I leaped out of my seat and ran after him yelling "Plácido be mine!".

I actually can't remember how I then reacted except I was feeling pretty gob-smacked. No doubt he now thinks I am stalking him, with a group of friends, which, I suppose, I am, although, I stress, we did have a booking for Afternoon Tea, and I have a not inconsiderable bill to prove the fact. One Lady and I were exclaiming over the fact that we had just seen him, then and there; the Lady with the phone was annoyed that she had totally missed him. And then our fourth Lady arrived, almost as if choreographed, and I felt bad (but not very bad), breaking the news to her that he had walked through Reception just moments before.

Of course, I realise that this must read as very silly to some people, and I am fully prepared to hold my hands up to being a bit like a starstruck teenager. But I do know there is a line to be drawn. I don't have any intention ever of hanging around his hotel for hours on end on the off-chance. I jest about racing after him, but I would just never do that, I think it's an ill-mannered intrusion. And tomorrow, I shall hear and see him perform one of his signature roles, and I have every confidence it will be a wonderful performance, because that's the main reason I like him. The fact that he also happens to be an extremely lovely person, too, is a delightful bonus.

Hunkentenor Stalking Part II

The second interval found me drawn irresistibly to Floral Street and dragging Mandy with me. Various people were queuing outside the Stage Door. We lingered back (I like being at the back of a queue). I made Mandy come in with me. We stood patiently and obediently in a queue, allowing all the people in front of us to go and meet Plácido before us. Well, actually, Mandy wasn't going to, but I made her, I bullied her!

He was standing behind the desk beyond the Stage Door, which is a very sensible place to meet fans. Far more sensible than out in the street where everybody tends to jostle a bit. He had requested 'no photos', which, obviously, is a bit disappointing, but I do think that it's very very good of him to be so kind as to let us meet him in this way, and I am immeasurably grateful for opportunities such as this. I think quite a lot of people, like my mother, like some colleagues etc, can hardly believe how easy it is to meet him, how approachable he is. Nor can I, for that matter. I really don't think he's under any obligation, he could play the big superstar divo and be remote and unobtainable. But he's not like that

He was still in costume, and looking lovely. I decided I would ask him for his autograph. I was very nervous, which is silly, because he is not that sort of person. And then I asked him a question, which seemed like a good idea at the time, but I'm not so sure in retrospect...I asked him - pointing out that he does a lot of rolling around on the floor on stage - whether he does the same off-stage. He just smiled at me mischievously. I may have misinterpreted but, you know, I think, that was a yes! And I narrowly avoided walking into the door this time! We had debated whether we should ask whether he wanted a beer (the back door of the Nag's Head is just across the road) but in the end, we didn't.

And then I went home, to savour my memories of a thrilling performance and to enjoy my memory of meeting Plácido. A fleeting meeting, a pleasant memory. I realise it's a bit silly wanting to meet one's pin-up hero in such a way. Ultimately, it's meaningless. I suspect that there are people who hang round Stage Doors and so on, who think that their fleeting encounters with celebrities equals friendship, or hope that somehow, in some way, it will lead to something more meaningful. It isn't and it doesn't. And, at the end of the day, what makes the experience special is the act that it comes after a sensational and memorable performance of a wonderful wonderful opera!

Die Walküre Cycle 2

I have to confess up front that I did not stay for Act III. I realise that this is heretical and hypocritical, and completely wrong, but, in my defence, I will say I was sitting next to the second smelliest man who has ever walked into the Royal Opera House and by the end of Act II he was deteriorating badly. Also, and more importantly, I have been warned by diverse and numerous people of the need to pace myself and not 'overdo it' for the Ring, and for perhaps the first time in my life I am actually listening to sensible advice. (I am on a warning about sickness absence at work) So my 'review' can only be of Acts I and II.

Die Walküre, the first day of the Tetralogy, following the prelude that is Das Rheingold. The Ring as a whole is among my very favourite operas; Act 1 of Die Walküre is without doubt my single favourite act of any opera, and over the past few days I have played about six different versions, some of them more than once, and each time I am disappointed when it ends - at little over an hour it is way too short. Short, but perfect.

It starts with a storm scene in the orchestra. I was so busy watching the strobe lighting effect that I didn't consciously register the amazing double timpani that comes about halfway through the vorspiel, quite possibly the best few instrumental bars in the whole of the Ring Cycle - except for the first 130+ of Rheingold, obviously. Oh heck, my Ring reviews are going to see me go through a raft of definite absolutes...!

And then the singing starts! At which point I realise that my binoculars, slung round my neck, are still in their case, and I have to, micron by micron, unfasten the velcro and discard the case. Then I realise that through the binoculars the stage looks very far away...yeah, I'm using them upside down. Then I realise that the four pieces of glass are grubby; the lower ones from sticky finger prints, the higher ones from make-up that comes off from around my eyes. So I have to set to and clear them, whilst never taking my eyes off the stage or my ears off the music, especially the singing, especially the singing of Siegmund. The seats in the Amphitheatre at Covent Garden are very closely packed, and any excess arm movements are very annoying to one's neighbours. Fortunately, I am blessed with permanently erect nipples which are very handy for cleaning binoculars. And I'm sure that's way too much information.

I expect the story is familiar to all those who have read thus far but if not, a brief synopsis. Musically, it is very familiar to me. Most of the different recorded versions I possess feature the  same singer as Siegmund. And suddenly, my ears tell me that there he is down there on stage. I can see him, which is wonderful enough. Even better, I can hear him! At this point I get very confused about my feelings. This man, whom I hero-worship and thus think about a lot, and find rather attractive. This very nice person I met briefly an hour and a half previously. This Voice which I hear so frequently on CDs and DVDs and mp3s - he's there. I'm scrutinising him closely through my binoculars, thinking how lovely he looks. Watching as he moves round stage, gazing with lust at his lovely thighs. Then I pull myself together. concentrate on the opera. And I then kind of forget all that meta stuff and sit back to enjoy a splendid performance.

I don't think that where I was sitting (P52 of the Amphi) is at all good acoustically. Sadly, I'm in a similar position for my Complete Cycle; however, I soon adjusted to that. I think if you are far back in the Amphi, the sound gets muffled by the overhang and the distance; if you are going to be far back, you are better off on the sides because - I think, I might be talking total rubbish - the sound reflects off the walls. But when I got this ticket a few weeks ago, it was the only one available on the website. For example, the orchestra sounded relatively muffled, which is not how Wagner should sound. That having been said, it's important to note that much of this Act is not heavily orchestrated - it's a kitchen sink drama.

I have seen the production twice before as well as on the TV, and can't really add much to what I previously wrote, except the noir aspect did not bother me this time around. At the time I wrote that, I was unfamiliar with the term 'Furniture Abuse' although I had seen it plenty of time in action. Hunding is responsible for it all in Act I, I think, the most spectacular being the bit where he comes home and flings his axe into the kitchen table. He also knocked over at least one chair. I thought Stephen Milling was well scary as Hunding, I also liked his voice.

I have ambiguous feelings about Sieglinde. Like Mostly Opera, I am very much a fan of Waltraud Meier in this role (and just to clarify, I posted this fact to a newsgroup on Friday night!). So Eva Maria Westbroek was fine in the role. 'Fine' seems like damning with faint praise and isn't meant to be. Again no specific criticisms, vocally pleasant, convincing acting; she acquitted herself well.

And the main character of Act I is Siegmund. This is the point where I get hyper-critical. Plácido Domingo was not perfect.  I adored his performance, and yet, I felt compelled to dwell on the minor flaws. This might be partly a function of my acoustically poor seat, and a result of absorbing myself in so many recordings in such a short time. So it's like I can spot each note that is less than perfect. Which is an unfair way to write a review. I think his voice does take some time to warm up; the first twenty minutes or so contain a lot of recitative (I know that that isn't the right technical phrase but whatever...). But those minute criticisms aside, I just loved him so much. Such a beautiful voice, I could have happily listened with my eyes shut. I spent a lot of time with my binoculars to eyes, watching him. Watching him move about stage like an impetuous troubled young man, expressing the anguish and loneliness of this young man called Woeful. At one point I did ponder the athleticism of someone who is rumoured to be 66 years old, bounding around stage, and then I thought - don't dwell on it, that's what he does.

If Act I is my favourite part of the entire Ring Cycle, Scene III is probably my 'Desert Island Bleeding Chunk'. The pinnacle of great operatic writing. Everything works so well. The orchestra is gorgeous, the use of the different instruments to make different sounds, to create mood. The libretto is moving, as Siegmund describes his need for the sword and his emerging love for this woman Sieglinde. I felt privileged to be in that place, listening to this very great singer performing one of his greatest roles, and revelling in the gorgeousness of his voice.

The scene builds musically and dramatically to Winterstürme - I read the other day that Wagner knows exactly when an aria is called for - and this becomes the most gorgeous love story between two lovely characters. During  the opening descending arpeggios of Winterstürme, when my heart is racing, I manage noisily to depress the plastic on my water bottle. A depressed water bottle has to un-depress, again noisily, and I was convinced the two 'cracks' rang round the auditorium; certainly interrupted my focus on the aria, requiring a metaphorical self-flagellation. This is I think the sixth time I have heard him sing it live, I can't possibly calculate how many times I have heard him sing it on record, and it surely must be a signature aria

And from Winterstürme, the scene moves on relentlessly, the most amazing music, fantastic interpretation, leading up to the point where Siegmund leaps onto the kitchen table to take down Nothung. I couldn't actually hear the line 'Braut und Schwester bist du dem Bruder' and for a fraction of a nano-second my heart stopped and was in my mouth, and then the most amazing 'So blühe denn, Wälsungen-Blut!' pinned me back in my seat - wow!!! And suddenly Act I was over. Over an hour and it seemed like minutes. Minutes where my attention was focused on what was happening in front of me, and I didn't get the slightest nicotine craving (whereas for, say Boheme, I'm wanting a cigarette after the overture...).  My mind and emotions overwhelmed, intelligent thought not possible.

Half an hour and a stiff gin not sufficient to let me pull myself together for Act II, but soon it was time for it to begin. The confrontation between Wotan and Fricka. I was disappointed in Rosalind Plowright; having thought her glorious in this role two years back, I was not so taken this time. John Tomlinson as Wotan was bloody good. Of course, this was the Cycle he was down to do anyway, so I was not in a position to think 'he's not Bryn'. I don't think John has a particularly beautiful voice, and as everybody said after Cycle 1, it's not what it was, quite a lot of strain at the top. And yet, the dramatic portrayal was so total - not just the fact that he was Wotan in his physical and stage acting, but somehow, despite the vocal flaws arising from age, he was, vocally, Wotan to me, so I'm now seriously looking forward to seeing him in Rheingold, Walküre (again), Siegfried and Parsifal.

We had stand-in Brunnhilde, Susan Bullock, on account of Lisa Gasteen having a severe cold. Susan had flown in from (strike-ridden) Paris, arriving at lunch time, and, obviously not having had time to rehearse (that having been said, I refuse to accept that the ROH has no contingency plan for the indisposition of a singer in a major role. Susan Bullock has - reportedly - made quite a name singing Brunnhilde in lesser houses, so I expect that she was probably officially on standby and had walked through the role). Last minute substitute, saving the show, should always get a bit of leeway (for example, when I saw Das Rheingold in January 2005, the very ageing and wobbly Donald McIntyre sang magnificently from the pit whilst Bryn mimed on stage; Cycle 1 Walküre had Stephen Milling miming whilst Clive Bayley sang with a broken arm from side stage). But I can safely say no leeway was required for Susan Bullock. In the opening of Act II she was splendid as the frisky teenaged Brunnhilde. She did more than enough to impress me in the opening scene with Wotan. In the second scene, she was splendid, an excellent foil to John Tomlinson's excellent Wotan.

And there was more to come!

I can't say I care very much for the staging in Act II. It seems that what I assume is Valhalla is an exact replica of Hunding's House in Act I - how likely is that - even with identical furniture and an identical smashed window at the back. I did fall to pondering about the various props - the red rope is deeply significant, as is the model aeroplane. Significant of what I can't quite remember, but I'm sure it will all become a lot clearer when I do my full cycle. Especially when I manage to identify the 'crashed aeroplane' and 'red string' leitmotifs. In any case, I can usually overloook silly sets (as long as they don't obscure the action) if the personenregie is credible, and if the cast - as well as being good singers - are credible actors. We got all that!

Scene 3 sees the return of the twins, and is incredibly moving, Sieglinde in her delirium, the tenderness between them, as they take rest in front of the upturned sofa in Valhalla. I mock that slightly, but despite the apparent silliness, the sofa acting as a windbreak creates this incredible intimacy as they lie together on the floor, with some rolling.  If you're not crying by now, you've got a heart of steel (or your binoculars pinned close to your eyes).

The music leading into Act 4 is amazing. Quiet, and you can hear a pin drop in the absorbed auditorium, People forget to cough, we all know what is coming. This music moves us onto a different place, a higher plane. With the stage almost in darkness, we hear Brunnhilde sing "Siegmund! Sieh auf mich! Ich bin's, der bald du folgst." At which point I am destroyed emotionally by such poignant beauty. What follows is so imbued with emotion and was for me the highlight of the entire evening - the  Todesverkuendigung, which will be a musical memory that stays with me for ever. Dignity and love vs dignity and duty - extraordinary in every respect. The music is incomparable; it was sung perfectly and portrayed indescribably. It just doesn't get any better than that. And Plácido and Susan were just amazing together. I would pay good money for an illicit in-house recording of that!

And the final scene. Almost an anti-climax after Scene 4, although culminating in a very spectacular death-scene, exemplifying the fine art of tenorial rolling on the ground by its finest exponent, rolling onto the helix-ash tree and rolling off again, and rolling across the stage. Makes it looks so easy! An hour and a half has passed so quickly and I'm wrung out! There had been other instances of tenorial rolling on the ground. (And, for the record, chest hair was also visible), but I can't quite recall sufficiently well to catalogue here.

Fabulous. Bring it on again, I can't wait! I've got Walküre next Sunday, and before that I've got Rheingold, which I love the tone of the entire work. I am so so so excited.

And quite apart from the music and drama, it's great to be with people. As well as Mandy, who I hung round with, I also met Simon, who I often bump into at events, and I was delighted to meet for the first time Mo, with whom I have communicated over the months. Also,  a lady whose name sounds like 'View'. It's nice to go alone to an opera but know you're surrounded by friends!

As a PS, when I got home I watched Have I Got News For You, which had earlier recorded. One of the main stories was the resignation of Ming Campbell as leader of the Lib Dems. On age grounds, apparently. Although the Mirror helpfully rubbished that Who says you're too old at 66?, with a helpful list of people born in 1941

Susannah York and Joan Baez (Jan 9) Faye Dunaway (Jan 14) Placido Domingo (Jan 21) Neil Diamond (Jan 24) Paddy Ashdown (Feb 27) Vivienne Westwood (April 8) Ryan O'Neal (April 20) Bob Dylan (May 24) Delia Smith (June 18) Chubby Checker (Oct 3) and Jesse Jackson (Oct 8)

links for 2007-10-21

• Still the best Siegmund around...in a Walkure that RULED
  Review from 'mostly opera'
  (tags: wagner placi)
• Opera, Gardening, Politics, Cats.... - DIE WALKUERE, Rpyal Opera House, 19 October 2007
  (tags: wagner placi)
• boulezian: Die Walküre, Royal Opera, 19 October 2007
  I said the blogosphere would be out in force...
  (tags: wagner placi)

Hunkentenor Stalking Part 1

I like that word so much...

You would not believe the emails that were going around this week...

Anyway, I just found myself on Floral Street on Friday, and blimey, there was Mandy. And then, I thought, Anne Marie has texted me to say what she's wearing - okay that will be her over there. So the three of us stood on Floral Street. Like one does  on a sunny autumn's day in the middle of a Friday afternoon...But we were far from alone. Lots of familiar faces and also unfamiliar faces. Hello Unfamiliar Faces! Hello Familiar Faces! And especially hello Mandy and Anne Marie. This was the first time I had met Anne Marie after months of correspondence via blog. And, Anne Marie, yes, he did notice you!

Needless to say, I didn't even notice that Plácido was walking up the other side of Floral Street, but thankfully, Anne Marie noticed him. And so did a lot of other people, too. He was surrounded by quite a group of admirers as he walked to the Stage Door. He must know there's going to be a welcome party for him; if I were him, I would go in another entrance, avoid us. But he's nice like that.

I had been pretty excited all afternoon day week year...and suddenly, there he was, just feet away from me. Did I swoon? Inwardly, of course, I did, but on the outside I was coolcalmcollected just gazing adoringly at him. This man I admire so much, this man I hero worship, was there, in front of my eyes. A superstar, and yet so approachable. (There were a couple of women walking along Floral Street as a cut-through from Covent Garden to Bow Street, and they said 'who's that' so someone said and suddenly they're all "ooh, ooh' excited...)

I didn't get to speak to him, just listened as he answered questions that other people were asking. I think he must have been feeling the cold because he only had two buttons of his shirt unfastened; yet I still found myself drawn to gazing at his chest hair. And into his eyes.

He said that he would be at the Stage Door after Act II; also that he would be returning to Washington straight afterwards. Somebody helpfully told him that would be to conduct Don Giovanni. I expect he knew already.

I did manage to take one - one - photo but it's pretty rubbish...well, it's of his back view. Sigh So a very big thank you to Anne Marie who emailed me these photos - including one of me with Plácido...well, sort of (that's me in the pink cardigan, gazing intently)

Then there was the opera...I will write a full and reflective review tomorrow, I promise. and I want to stress that my hunkentenor stalking was secondary to the actual performance of Die Walküre; just that the stalking (Part 1) came first.

Last week in Puerto Rico

Some photos...

Anna Netrebko sings the famous aria 'Puppet on a String'

Having confessed in an interview that she would be in love with Plácido if he was younger, Anna realises that it's only the x-ray of the voice in the attic that is getting older

Dalilah Netrebko realises that getting Sansom Schrott to cut his hair means he can barely lift an empty water bottle. And there's a better tenor on stage. And she's no mezzo

Erwin explains how he came to have his locks shorn - Just Like That. Anna never wants to hear one of his bad jokes again

Okay, I can't do comedy captions. You have a try. More photos on Yahoo.

More coverage of the concert:

¡Noche de inmortales!

Una noche apasionada bajo la dirección de Plácido Domingo

Interview: Erwin Schrott abrazado al realismo en la época

My blogging my Ring countdown is failing dismally, but trust me, I have been far too busy flying my winged horse through the night sky. Three days to go...I may appear calm, but inside I'm fluttering with excitement

Homer of Seville

Online Videos by Veoh.com

Thanks to White Rabbit

Metroplitan opera opening night red carpet

Just some pictures picked up round the internet from Monday night

And just for the sheer heck of it, here's one of La Trebs

Homer of Seville

White Rabbit has kindly drawn my attention to this picture

I have this feeling there is something missing, but I can't quite work out what...

This episode airs this Sunday in the USA.

The Simpsons Archive is quite helpful in identifying when various episodes are shown in various other countries, for example the UK listing. The Episode number to search for is: JABF18

Five weeks to go

And I am so excited.

Until Die Walküre, that is. Rheingold, of course, precedes that, and believe you me, I am excited about Rheingold, but I am shaking with nerves at my excitement for Die Walküre.

I don't know how this is quite going to work, but I intend doing a sort of count-down to The Ring. Probably not every day, but intermittently. I suppose I could do serious study of the scores and the influencing mythology, but, it's not really my style.

So far, I have my horned helmet and breastplate lined up ready to be polished, my rams fed and waiting to pull my chariot. My sword is embedded in my ash tree in my kitchen and as we write, I am simultaneously gouging out my eye in return for ruling the world.

It's so exciting!!!!!!!

But you know, hero worship is a double-edged sword, although, hopefully, not by the name of Nothung.

Last week, oh I should have blogged this, bad me, I fired up my trusty laptop and tuned into the internet which was broadcasting a tribute concert to the late Beverly Sills live from the Lincoln Center in New York's downtown Manhattan - Photojournal

Included in the programme was Plácido singing Ombra mai fu. I suddenly realised that I hate hearing him sing live on the radio or internet. Not live in person of course, but live on the internet, because I get a) so nervous and b) so critical.

(You know how it is with some obsessed fangirls - and boys - that they honestly truly believe that their idol is utterly perfect and completely beyond criticism. I'm not like that, I can't be like that - actually I think it diminishes credibility. For me it's almost like - I've earned the right to criticise - you may disagree, and that's okay, it's just the way I kind of feel)

So there I am listening to him singing Ombra mai fu and thinking, hmm, I'm not sure about that note there, gosh, he's got a deep voice, blimey that's a high note, well above a High C. At the end I was thinking, yeah,that was nice, I've heard him better. You know, that's me being critical.

And then all over the internet is praise - one commentator wrote "...he also floated the prettiest little high F you've ever heard..." High F? That high. And, like, ordinary people who attended, not known as fans of his, were fulsome in praise.

In preparation for my mounting excitement five weeks today, I bring you a nice YouTube I stumbled upon earlier, presumably from the concert at the Alamo a few weeks ago. Paloma Querida.

Nothing to do with Wagner, of course, but what the heck...Just a shame it gets truncated prematurely.

My favourite mariachi singer

Some amateur footage on YouTube, and thank you to "Anonymous*" for drawing this to our attention

I'm still not sure about those trousers ;-)

* I respect anybody's right to be anonymous on the internet, but I would so love to have a name or pseudonym for Anonymous who so frequently leaves links. I can learn a tiny bit, mainly location, from my site stats, but would never divulge such info on the internet.

Reports from Guadalajara

Plácido Domingo celebra 50 años de carrera en México vestido de charro

Celebró 50 años en el canto ‘al estilo Jalisco’

Plácido Domingo inaugura el Auditorio Metropolitano

Plácido Domingo celebra en Guadalajara, 50 años de trayectoria artística

An interview: “Me pongo más nervioso cuando salgo a cantar”

And thanks to Anonymous for finding this photo of my favourite mariachi singer...

Fifty years (and still going strong)

Celebrará Plácido Domingo 50 años de carrera artística en Guadalajara

This site says that the concert is 3 September; his site says 1 September.

Meanwhile, a week on Sunday, he conducts the Verdi Requiem for LA Opera's opening night, and the blogosphere offers up an insider's account of rehearsals

How many people get to say hello and exchange hugs with Placido Domingo on a regular basis? Well, I do. I don't think he knows my name but he is warm and friendly and likes pretty ladies and is always happy to see familiar faces....Today we were surprised that he took (led) the rehearsal....Placido took us through the entire piece, giving us his tempi and phrasing... He personally sang many of the solo lines in between the chorus sections. What a voice! It is still rich and full and beautiful even though he's past 60*. Amazing. He brings the singer's sensibility to conducting, with extreme sensitivity to the musical line and the meaning of the words. I realize what a gift it is to simply be in the presence of this great and wonderful world-class artist. The man *is* music. It's what he's made of.

And his site has a picture of the new statue in Mexico City.

* and then some...

La Fanciulla del West

click image for more details

This probably has to be read in conjunction with my review of the same opera from La Scala. Although I am not very into Puccini I have two DVDs of this opera.

Overall, and in general, I much prefer the Covent Garden one to the La Scala one.

First of all, the sets are amongst the very best opera sets I have seen live or on DVD. Almost worthy of applause in themselves. Act I, the bar, Act II, Minnie's Log Cabin and Act III,  the gallows in the mining village. It is enjoyable to note hundreds of little details and the overall picture is splendid.

I find so much of the music very reminiscent of that which accompanies classic Western films, and then I remind myself that Puccini did it first.

I find the first half of Act I does drag a lot. I see its importance in setting the scene; for a first viewing it's quite interesting, but it sags on repeated viewing. It's very clear how the main characters are introduced one-by-one and the atmosphere is set - the miners pining for home,  the Wells Fargo man, and the camp minstrel (although I find the way he is blacked up Al Jolson style) very dodgy. The highlight of this opening 'boring bit' is the evocative miners' lament. (When I was making rough notes I wrote 'almost liturgical in its lachrimosity' - Pseuds' Corner, anyone?). And as the Minstrel the camera lingers on the "Wanted" poster for Ramirez, a bandit,  a Spaniard from Mexico.

The opera only really starts after 36 minutes with the grand entrance of 'Dick Johnson'. And it grips me for the remainder of the Act. The Love duet in particular, especially the bit, erm, I wrote it down in English from the subtitles "Waht you cannot say, your heart told me when we danced". I do have a bit of a problem with Carol Neblett in this role. For one, she looks a lot like Nurse G-g-g-gladys Emmanuel, but more to the point, she adopts that tactic of sopranos when the top notes are beyond them - screamingly squawk it.

I am not sure whether Fanciulla is a great opera or merely a good one with some great scenes. Whenever Iwatch it I find myself repeat-playing certain sections. On this DVD, we get Plácido at his very best. It's not a role that is particularly considered a signature role for him, but it's pretty clear that he enjoys it, and vocally it suits him very well. He obviously relishes the opportunity to strut around oozing machismo - it's easy to see how Minnie fell so completely for him.

Act II starts badly with what I noted in my notebook as a 'rather tedious and ethnically embarrassing scene with Wowkle and Billy looking like cartoon-character "Red Indians"'. But when that's over with, I enjoy the way that Minnie is getting ready for her big date - and then he - Dick Johnson - arrives, looking very sexy, in an ankle length leather coat and a rather fetching hat, although, obviously, being a gentleman bandit, he doesn't wear that indoors.

They engage in sweet-talk at the table, but the music tells us that passion is rising; his macho strutting is mixed with an awkward nervousness. And 'Un baccio, un baccio solo' is pure steaming lust. He actually smokes the cigar she hands him (and we know from Carmen that this is a man who knows how to handle a cigar...).

Next is Comedy Moment, when the door blows open and snow blows in so Dick Johnson bundles Wowkle and the baby into the snow with indecent haste. Then we have a B-movie style passionate clench as the door blows open-and-shut in the  blizzard. But the snow - and the sound of gunshots - is an excuse for Minnie, declaring everlasting love,  to make Dick stay, whilst the orchestra portrays carnality. Frankly, if he was over me like that I would also declare everlasting love and I would not curl up in a bearskin and offer him my bed.

Opera is foremostly about singing, and I love the way Plácido sings in this, contrasting the passages where there is steel in the voice with tender moments. The orchestra is important, too. In this work it never realy plays 'tunes' but its mood music acts as an accompanist, a very different tone than, say, Bohème or Tosca.

To be honest, although I really enjoy this opera, there are crazy nonsensical aspects to it. He is shot and bleeding. I accept that at the time it was set it wasn't possible to summon the air ambulance, but I would have thought that a bit of basic First Aid would have come in handy, instead she just bundles him into the loft. When he is discovered by the big Bad Sheriff Jack Rance, still no first aid is administered, instead he sits slumped over the kitchen table as Minnie and Rance play poker for his body. And magically, he is fully cured in Act III*

Act III is short and perfectly formed - with yet another fabulous set. It begins with a lamenting reminiscent with the miners' lament in Act I - this time it's Rance, and Nick the barman, yearning for life with Minnie, who's off doing her own thing with 'Dick Johnson' aka Ramirez the Bandit. I really love the scene when he arrives having being cornered by the Wells Fargo men, looking deliciously scruffy and with his shirt unfastened enough to reveal just a tantalising glimpse of chest hair. He delivers that wonderful aria "Ch'ella mi creda libero e lontano"and Minnie arrives to save him.

A thoroughly enjoyable and satisfying opera - albeit with a zero body count - but probably not a great opera!

*It's a bit like the otherwise superbly wonderful 'Rome' on TV, where Lucius Vorenus is mortally wounded and bleeding in Egypt but somehow manages to make it back to Rome. I don't believe either scenario would be possible now, with a much greater understanding of physiology and hygiene, let alone medical care and fast transport, let alone the Old Days

PS In the course of writing this, I googled for 'Ch'ella mi creda..." and to my horror the first hit was for Andrea Bocelli. I couldn't quite believe that Bocelli has recorded it, but I caught a short snippet, and it was even more horrendous than I imagined; then my computer seemed to have been taken over by the disembodied voice of Andrea Bocelli with no obvious means of killing it. Needless to say, I am traumatised as a result of infiltration by this dangerous cult.

A couple of videos...

Unveiling a wonderful new statue in Mexico City - also mentioned at Inmortalizan a Plácido Domingo, and talking about green stuff...great singer, great musician, thoroughly nice person, very handsome and sexy...

New York here I come

Oh god, I actually thought I was going to pass out I was hyperventilating so much. Sale of single tickets for the Metropolitan Opera started at midday NY time which I calculated to be 5pm my time, so I got onto the site at 4.30pm to find them already on sale. With. a. real---ll---y slow...server. Because I hadn't registered I got timed out and my ticket taken away from me and I had to start all over again. But I have a ticket. Problem is, it's gonna be held at the Box Office at Lincoln Center - which is fair enough - and I have to present Jimmy's credit card. He won't be going to New York. I wonder if I contact them and explain, they'll let me present my (non-photo but addressed) driving licence, passport, two utility bills, Audit Warrant and Official UK Government Pass. Hmm...

So, this Iphigenie en Tauride opera, is it any good? just kidding, I have heard an audio version, and I have a DVD on my to-do list, and I'm going to the Covent Garden baritone version in September

My next challenge is trying to get a ticket for Romeo and Juliette. I'm not going all the way to New York to end up taking a trip on the Long Island Railroad to see it at a cinema when I could do that on a 417 bus from home to Clapham Common.

I suppose now I'm going to the Met I shall have to relearn when to applaud. I understand it's a) at the scenery and b) when the star makes his first appearance on stage...

While I'm there, I wouldn't mind visiting Pampano

Reports from...various places

Jane has very kindly emailed me a couple of pictures from Wiesbaden:

The view from her hotel room...!

And look who she bumped into outside the hotel: (I don't know if it's just me, but he looks very huggable in this photo!)

 

Thanks Jane!

Bravos for Ravinia gala

I can't say I care for the comparisons with Don Giovanni or the Duke of Mantua, obviously a so-called journalist who knows eff-all about the subject she writes about.

Some links from Salzburg coverage. not saying anything I haven't already linked to, but with added photos: Placido Domingo singt Zarzuelas in Salzburg; Bussis für die Zarzuelas; Plácido Domingo im Interview

And this made me laugh - Who can resist the tenor of his logic? (I think I would rather watch the Three Tenors play footie - although not Luciano now,obviously - than hear Beckham, Juninho and Zidane sing...)

Reports from Salzburg and Wiesbaden

Domingo the Spaniard

Mr. Domingo came out for his first number — and he looked like a million bucks. He sang that way, too. For about 10 years now — 15? — I have referred to him as "the ageless Spaniard," and that description still applies. Yes, he was miked, but he was in fine shape, and sang essentially the way he always has. I don't need to tell you how that is. His voice and style are maybe more familiar than your own.

And, last night, I received an email from Jane:

What an excellent time we had in Wiesbaden.By accident we had booked into the same hotel as Placido and Eugine Kohn, the conductor. With a room overlooking the concert venue. Having watched the rehearsal from our bedroom window, we waited for Placido to return to the hotel where we got great pics of him outside. As he departed into the hotel we followed, walking up the stairs to our room as Placido took the lift (shame we could not get in with him!).however, what a surprise to meet him on his landing. As he began his first aria he caught a tickle in his throat, possibly due to the night air, and so had to begin the aria once more. This happened on the next aria also, by now we were becoming nervous, wondering what would happen next. All went well for Placido but the orchestra was a bit rattled, and it caused Maestro Kohn to work hard to get them back together. From then on all got better and better with seven encores. On the morning of the concert my husband got a picture of Eugine Kohn in the reception area. The following morning he stopped by our table at breakfast to ask if we had enjoyed the concert. I told him it improved as it went on but finished well. I think he was taken aback by my honest comments, I asked him how Placido was and he said there was no problem with him he was fine. What a very nice guy he is, taking the trouble to come and speak to us. What a night, something to remember for a long time. We then moved on to opera by the lake in Bregenz where we saw a stunning performance of Tosca. The set was really something to see. The singing was also first class. Our next stop was Verona where we saw La Traviata at the arena. This was the most disappointing performance so far.The set was awful and the Italians thought so too and in their usual way vocalised their disapproval, however the singing was good. Here's hoping to get tickets for Cyrano in Milan next year.

Thank you for that Jane. It's always excellent to get first hand reports from real people. And a room overlooking the concert venue...! Hmm, I can just imagine my Other Half's reaction to that!

Reports from Salzburg and more from Ravinia

Of course, Plácido can do no wrong, having actually turned up to perform in Salzburg, unlike certain other stars.

There are various reports (in German) of the zarzuela concert with Ana Maria Martinez:

Domingo eilt federnd aufs Podium, sät formvollendet Handküsse auf die bleichen Arme seiner schönen Partnerin Ana Maria Martinez mit der spitzen Stimme. Er selbst singt mit dem betörenden Schmelz eines jungen Mannes, die Phrasen subtil gestaltend mit der Weisheit eines alten, die Stimme sitzt allezeit perfekt im Fokus, sie ist glänzend und klug geführt. Offiziell ist Domingo sechsundsechzig Jahre alt, seit 1975 bei den Salzburger Festspielen, insgesamt neunundvierzig Auftritte hat er seither absolviert.

And he got a medal, too:

Und wie natives Olivenöl dazu Plácido Domingo! So viel Charme, Charisma, im entscheidenden Moment tenorales Strahlen und insgesamt eine Performance, die ihresgleichen sucht. Nach dem Konzert, als ihm, der seit 32 Jahren in Salzburg auftritt und am Sonntag mit dem gleichen Programm seinen 50. Festspieltermin absolvieren wird, das Goldene Ehrenzeichen des Landes überreicht wurde, hat Domingo genau diese unschätzbare Berufserfahrung angesprochen, die jene gar nicht sammeln können, die früh verheizt werden. Die Festspielpräsidentin sprach von einem "Fixstern an einem sternschnuppenreichen Himmel".

Caramba bei iberischen Gusto-Stückerln!. This mentions that the concert will be shown  on ORF next Saturday, and also draws attention to an ORF documentary on Monday night.

Gert mutters Operashare and whistles trying not to draw attention to herself...

And  he announces his intention to be playing football next year in Salzburg. I thought he was supposed to have given up.

A couple of bloggers were at Ravinia last weekend:

I am not able to express how I felt hearing a voice like this.  I felt incredibly amazed that I was in the same room hearing it and, much like plane take offs, the intensity took away my ability to breath and sense of reason.

On another note, Domingo seemed completely charming.  He looks rather fit these days, wore a great black suit and shirt.  He kissed the hands of the head violinist and soprano Ana Maria Martinez and frequently clapped Chicago Symphony Orchestra conductor James Conlon on the back.  I don't care if he is older than my mother, he's quite dreamy and I should have liked to receive a kiss on the hand and to have a bottle of wine with that man.

Dressed all in black, he was regal, charismatic and in fine voice. As my mom said "He's still got it!" and indeed, he has. At over 60 years of age, the man can still work a crowd and hit those beautiful, soaring high notes. I wish we had seen more of him

I'm not sure why both bloggers refer to Winterstürme as "Spring Song". It's Winterstürme. Presumably he sang it in German, so why give it an English name?

And he's due to give a concert in Guadalajara in September to celebrate the 50th Anniversary of first appearing there - as a pianist.

Reports from Ravinia and Springfield

Placido charms fans at Ravinia - Supertenor shares light classics, even 'Granada' ...first time I've seen Winterstürme described as a 'light classic'. And I'm not sure why "conducting" is placed in quote marks!

Domingo glorious at Ravinia benefit

Domingo looked and sounded like a million bucks...Domingo sang gloriously, with all the warmth, style, intelligence and taste that have made him, at 66, the supreme lyric-dramatic tenor of the late 20th Century, and, now, the early 21st. The voice rang with such clarion power and passion

and a report from Bart Simpson's voice

Pop culture icon?

Tenor for our times

We don't want our Plácido to be a pop culture icon. I think he is above such things. When you are supremely talented, exceedingly cool, totally gorgeous, and rich beyond imagination, you really don't need to be a 'pop culture icon' whatever one of those is. And I do not think that Plácido is anyway concerned with such considerations. Okay, so he's going to be on The Simpsons, but I bet he's doing that as much for his grandchildren as for fans (and potential fans). I think he just wants to enjoy life; the fact that he creates joy for his very many fans is just a bonus.

And no, Domingo does not keep a portrait in the attic to assure eternal youth, as in Wilde's A Portrait of Dorian Gray, or possess a secret potion to prolong life, as does Emilia Marty in Janacek's "The Makropulos Case." On the persistent question of retirement, he remains elusive. "I don't want to predict anything," he said. "Because every time I say something [and then keep going], they say, 'Well, Placido, you said you would be retiring.' So I don't want to say anything. Some day of course I will retire [from singing] but until then ..."

I know like twenty years ago he did a lot of popular/light entertainment stuff, but I don't think he can be bothered nowadays, unless he actually wants to. Pop culture icons tend to be transitory; he's not.

 

Oh and Placido Domingo endorses Saab 9-5 BioPower in Madrid

Two interviews with Plácido

Both in Spanish.

Plácido Domingo dice que 'en los próximos años, voy a tener bastante conexión con el teatro en Madrid'. I do like the way the writer mentions that he arrived alone at a Madrilenian hotel for the interview (although his grandson arrived at the end).

A longer interview in Elle. It says the full article is in the print edition but I couldn't find it in Smiths at Victoria Station yesterday :-(

Also contains a photo gallery

And a brief review of last Saturday's concert at the Teatro Real, including a couple of Baroque numbers.

Tuesday, Baden Baden. A week tomorrow Ravinia near Chicago. Then Salzburg. And then a couple of weeks off. In Acapulco I suppose.

My hero...

I seem to have accumulated links and photos in various parts of my computer that I really ought to have been blogging.

So here goes:

Plácido Domingo hizo todas las obras que soñó - he confirms that he intends to continue singing for some years more, although he has done all the roles he dreamed of doing but obviously there wasn't much Baroque around when he started off, requiring a change of career direction and a reassessment of dreams?

Report on a Big Screen Madama Butterfly in Madrid, conducted by Plácido: Miles de personas comparten con el Real una vibrante 'Madama Butterfly', although actually just a review of Madam Butterfly

The World's Greatest Singer gives an interview about...conducting - No creo en la tiranía del director de orquesta - somehow, I can't imagine him as a tyrannical conductor.

A great headline El irresistible carisma de Plácido Domingo

There's going to be a statue of him in Mexico City - Domingo inaugurará estatua con su imagen, because he is a great artist, a great singer and a great human being. More details Plácido Domingo, en bronce

No comment on this...

Update: A future appearance on The Simpsons

Homer becomes an opera star, and he has these groupies who are these middle-aged matrons that chase him around and Marge is really jealous.

Middle aged matrons? Oh, they're after Homer!

Bastille Day

I have no particular reason for celebrating Bastille Day. I do have a bit of French ancestry, allegedly, but I don't feel it. But I thought it would be a good excuse for playing the Marseillaise. Of course, if you are French, you never need an excuse. And if you live in a country visible from France that actually lacks a National Anthem, it's always worth playing the Marseillaise.

Oh, what the heck. It's almost nine minutes of stonking good music I found somewhere on t'internet and can't remember where...

Enjoy! this link from Rapidshare...

Plácido in Munich

A Wagner Gala to be precise:

This must be opera heaven! – Meier, Domingo and Pape in Munich Wagner Gala

Then after the break – what most had been waiting for – Placido Domingo as Siegmund in Walkure 1st act (with Meier and Pape). Despite having grown up with his recordings for 25 years I had never seen him live before, and wasn´t exactly sure what to expect (he is 66 years old). But he didn´t disappoint – he was absolutely convincing as Siegmund, no reason to step down in the near future! His voice may have lost some power in the top register (no problems with the Wälse cry though), but honestly, it didn´t matter at all. However, the pictures you see of Domingo in press releases are not exactly recent! But still, he makes for the most beautiful sung an believable Siegmund I have heard.

Source

Review: Meier, Pape shine at Wagner Gala

It was more - as perfect an operatic evening as even a finicky Munich audience could hope for. More than five minutes of thunderous applause ended a much-too-short performance, mixed with prolonged foot stomping, Bavarian style.

In the first act of "Die Walkuere," Placido Domingo was in full Wagnerian voice as Siegmund, his timbre brassy when called for, his phrasing extended, with little trace of the baritone drag that comes with age. He cleverly paced himself, so when the time came to pull out all stops he delivered with spine-tingling intensity.

Waltraud Meier was his match as Sieglinde, Siegmund's sister-turned-lover. Her voice was the ultimate instrument, perfect in pitch and phrasing, alternately full-bodied and subtle. And she outshone Domingo in expression, her facial and body language complementing the drama of the siblings' first encounter since childhood - an encounter that leads to love.

A spectacularly awful photo

More photos: mixed...

Next stop Madrid, but mainly for conducting (Madama Butterfly), plus one concert on 21 July.

Meanwhile, look who's on TV in Spain - the 'granddaughter-who-removes-her-clothes', as someone once dubbed her on this site, as a judge on a reality TVshow

and being interviewed - about her grandfather, of course. There's even videos if you can get them to work. I couldn't, but I didn't try very much...

And on this bulletin board is a discussion of her knockers. Hmm. Plus a link to a video showing her on the said reality TV show, 'Nadie es perfecto'. Can't say I approve of people putting their cleavage on display like that. 

Photos from Athens

Parsifal has some more photos from the rehearsal between Plácido and Warbling Barbie for the Athens concert in aid of a A Very Good CauseMás Plácido para todos!. And promises update with sound-clips.

Hollywood Bowl

I am now officially boycotting YouTube in a fit of pique, but notwithstanding the foregoing, I cannot resist posting this little ditty Kristin Chenoweth sang on Friday night at the Hollywood bowl.

The lyrics are...amusing...eg "I've heard his singing; it sours the milk."

The LA Times reported An eclectic kickoff for Hollywood Bowl season

It was here that the evening reached its peak, with Domingo's engaging remarks to the crowd, and an utterly entrancing duet between the veteran singer and perky, but musically adept Kristin Chenoweth, singing and obviously enjoying every minute of Jerome Kern's "Make Believe." Domingo, in powerful form, concluded his segment with a dramatic rendering of "Granada."

More:

Next stop Athens: Celebrated tenor in Athens to sing for Darfur

BTW, as a result of my almost complete inability to read Greek, I would be ever so grateful if anyone in Greece who happens to find a review of said Athens concert, especially with pictures, would draw my attention (and if anybody who happens to be attending the concert wishes to contribute to WLKJ....!)

Update: We have a report from the Rehearsal

La Fanciulla del West

One of the Puccini operas that I like.  In fact, I like it so much I have two different versions on DVD. This blogpost was originally intended to be about both, but because it got so long I decided just to publish the La Scala version for now!

For me, it takes a helluva long time to get started. Which is a shame. The first half hour or so is quite important for setting the scene, for letting us understand the context in which happens the drama about to unfold. I have read that the orchestral work in that first sequence is interesting and evocative, but it fails to engage me. I accept that every opera, even the greatest of operas, has passages that seem of lesser quality than the rest of the work. But this section is too long, and in too great a contrast with the remainder of the opera, and means that Fanciulla is a pretty good opera, rather than the 'approaching greatness' that the remainder suggests.

The synopsis is quite straightforward and can be found, for example at Wikipedia.

Puccini was very irritating giving his operas the wrong title. This title implies that the main role is the soprano, but it is so obviously a tenor's opera. Admittedly, one has to wait 38 minutes for the tenor's arrival, and that does drag a bit, but when he arrives with a flourish, it's worth it.

It will come as no surprise that both DVDs I have feature Plácido Domingo as Dick Johnson. It is one of my absolute favourite roles of his.  He plays the role of the Spaniard from Mexico who's travelled to California with such perfection, as if he inhabits the role. As soon as he walks in the bar it's obvious that Minnie has to fall in love with him. Just standing there, oozing Latino testosterone turns me on. and that's even before he opens his mouth! Vocally, the role is superb for him. I'm surprised it doesn't get mentioned more as one of his signature roles.

From the moment he walks into the bar, he is sultry seductive and sexy, absolutely compelling. I love his costume in the La Scala DVD, almost all in black (except for an off white polo neck, shame, no opportunity for chest hair fondling), knee high boots that serve to emphasise his long legs and delicious thighs. I love the way he struts round the bar, I love the way he looks at Minnie, and I love it when Minnie declares she would protect the miners' gold with her life, he falls for her hook, line and sinker. He looks absolutely irresistibly gorgeous, in one of his chubbier/cuddlier phases...

Act 2 is perhaps my favourite act in the whole of Puccini.  I can do without the appalling dialogue of the native Americans, Wowkle and Billy.  I am reading the pidgin English subtitles which are translations of the pidgin Italian. It's not unreasonable to assume that uneducated servant native Americans in California in the 1850s were not fluent in English or Spanish or whatever it was the incoming masters spoke. But it's probably reasonable to assume that when talking amongst themselves they spoke fluently in their native tongue. But once that scene's over, and Minnie starts anticipating Dick's arrival, it sizzles from start to finish. The librettist captured her pre-date anxiety superbly, worrying over whether her fanciest shoes were too tight, will he like them,  putting on her red roses, wanting to wear her Sunday best, spraying perfume. The initial awkward exchange of small talk is so recognisable. And the way he uses his charm on her (admittedly, this isn't really acting, this is him!)

There's a lot of recitative in this opera. Or sort of recitative, the 20th century version, where lines are sung in the natural rhythm of conversation, rather than in the unnatural form of the aria. His voice sounds so rich, , sweet and lyrical, which is a lovely contrast from when he expresses more passion eg when he sings that there are women in the world one would wish to have in one's life just for one hour and then die.

My major criticism of the La Scala DVD is the strange absence of chemistry. I don't like it when the leading lady seems to be avoiding looking at the leading man. There he is working his charm on her, and it's like she's impervious to it, avoiding looking at him most of the time. I was watching with Jimmy and he commented on this quite independently of me thinking it. He begs her for a kiss and she turns away uninterested. If it had been me, I would have been right in there; if it had been me playing Minnie I would have refused with my words and agreed with my eyes. And, indeed, she hastily bundles poor Wowkle out of the house and into the snow, and grants the kiss with an  almost orgasmic musical flurry "That would be you," said Jimmy. "No," I said, "I would have succumbed to much more much earlier." And then we have the least convincing stage kiss I have seen him give (what's wrong with this woman?).

He makes to leave and realises it is snowing. She begs him to stay; he refuses, but there's a knock on the door and he agrees to stay. Cue the most erotic music in Italian opera, when, fully clothed, they consummate their love. I said to Jimmy that there's sex in the music, he said he didn't notice, I said that was because you were too busy talking about how people don't listen to the actual music. He's doing well, shagging her when she's as frigid as anything. They sink to their knees as the music subsides (oh, to be overwhelmed like that!). His look of admiration is pure post-coital.

The Sheriff and posse arrive, and Johnson is alert, gun at the ready. Minnie tells him where to hide as the boys storm in, and reveal to Minnie that "Dick Johnson" is in fact America's Most Wanted Bandito, Ramerrez, as revealed by his lover Nina Micheltorena,a woman of low repute from nearby (whom he had denied knowing). And they know he's at Minnie's. When the posse has gone, she demands he comes out of hiding and confronts him with the truth, and angrily tells him to leave. He explains that he has no alternative but to be a thief; his father was, and on his father's death he had to take it up to support his mother and siblings.

There's a certain quality in Plácido's voice that I simply adore yet cannot describe in words. It's particularly noticeable in the lower part of his range, when he relaxes and these beautiful gorgeous sounds roll out caressingly. and complement perfectly the power of the high notes. Perfectly illustrated in Or son sei mesi.

Update: Should now be available here

He leaves, she laments it's over - (and I remember that there are some people who you would wish to have in your life for just one hour and die*) and he gets shot, so she drags him back inside and insists he stays and hides. He is staggering, she bundles him up the ladder and foregoes the opportunity to grope his thighs, never going above his knees. Sigh I wouldn't be so restrained.

A knock at the door, Evil Sheriff Jack Rance has returned, now completely convinced that Ramerrez is hiding there. He makes an advance on Minnie who spurns him and he's about to go when he discovers Ramerrez's blood dripping from the loft. (38:16, great shot). Somehow, Dick is half dragged and half falls out of the loft, falling to the floor and rolling into the position he maintains for the rest of the act. The remainder of the act is a poker game where the prize is Dick Johnson aka Ramerrez. Minnie cheats (at which point the timpani are fabulous!), and wins, which is good. But if it had been me, if I had a shot man bleeding in my loft and I was not  able to summon Emergency Services on account of it being the 1850s, I think I would have tried at least to administer basic first aid.

The final act is again an act of two parts. The first part is only really setting the scene for when a now recovered, cornered and arrested Ramerrez makes his entrance bound at the wrists, to the delight of the miners who want to hang him as a thief and murderer. Also to the delight of any red blooded woman watching, because he looks unbelievably drop-dead gorgeous. Now without the polo neck and revealing just a teasing hint of chest hair, made up to look as if he has designer stubble, his dark eyes flashing with proud anger, trying to dodge the blows and pushes of the miners (still with bound hands), falling to his knees and rising again, not once, but twice, with bound hands. Defiantly he says he cares nothing for death, if his hands were unbound he'd slit his own throat. He begs they never tell Minnie how he came to die and then breaks into the most fabulous aria Puccini wrote Ch'ella mi creda libero e lontano - still with bound hands (it must be incredibly difficult to sing with bound hands...). The audience like it, a lot! Rance knocks him violently to the floor, and he falls spectacularly and gets himself up - still with bound hands. With great dignity he walks to the scaffold and has the noose put around his neck just as Minnie arrives. Now, it would totally freak me out to have a noose around my neck, even if on stage. Jimmy says it wouldn't bother him on stage, and it's just because I can't bear anything round my neck. But it would be too much to take psychologically.

Video now here

To cut a long story short, Minnie pleads - successfully - for his release and it ends happily if anti-climatically with a body count of absolute zero and a homespun wisdom lecture on being nice. And they ride away into the sunset. As Minnie delivers the lecture, Ramerrez is looking at her with undisguised lust, she seems barely aware of his existence.

I just so love the best bits of this opera that I can happily overlook the less gripping bits. And although I have been critical of Mara Zampieri lack of passion for Dick, all other aspects of her performance are somewhere between good and excellent. She acts a convincing Minnie and is vocally and musically of a high standard, with just a few squawks in a punishing role.  Juan Pons is eminently adequate as Jack Rance. None of the other characters in a cast of thousands are significant enough to be described. The production is excellent, a traditional production but with attractive sets and a naturalistic and convincing personenregie.

The DVD inlay card has the complete libretto, which is an unexpected bonus.

There is another DVD I ought to get, which I remembered when Googling, and was perturbed to find that the cast included Daniels. One of the great advantages of a composer like Puccini is the complete absence of counter-tenors. I was relieved to find that it is actually a soprano called Barbara Daniels.

In due course I shall watch, blog, and maybe MyTube add to a video sharing site with balls the Covent Garden version.

* I take it to mean that if you could only have one hour, you would gladly take it even if it meant death, rather than - an hour's enough, now get lost.

Report from the Alamo

Shame that the reviewer had to leave early 'because of deadline pressures'. I would prefer a more comprehensive report, later.

Domingo rises above Alamodome restraints

The most memorable moments of this concert were not strictly vocal, however, but theatrical — the conviction Domingo brought to the prayer “O, Souverain” from Massenet's “Le Cid,” the intensity and desolation in Federico's Lament from Cilea's “L'Arlesiana.”

Domingo reached his expressive pinnacle in the love duet from Act I of Verdi's “Otello.” With his wide palette of vocal colorations, along with astute phrasing and rhythm, Domingo created a fully fleshed character — imperious but tormented, strong but insecure.

I've also found more photos from Sunday.