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Fedora - 1995
Love the Revival
London Evening Standard
20 November 1995
Alexander Waugh
With clockwork predictability all those people who cannot even say the world “love” without feeling the need to pronounce it satirically (and there are millions of them in this country) dismiss Umberto Giordano and all his works as gushing trash.
Fedora, it is true, wears it hear on its sleeve, it is an opera quite devoid of intellectual pretension, a work which gushes with sentimental passion whose principal characters are burning themselves up with the white-hot anxiety of lerve.
The simple plot revolves around a young lady’s determination to avenge the murder of her fiancé, focusing with verve on the levre she feels for the murderer once she catches up with him.
In the end it is she who poisons herself, leaving her adoring Count Ipanov to ruminate on matters alone as the curtain descends to the crashing strains of Giordano’s unashamed verismo ardour.
If the performance is bad then embarrassment prevails, but when Fedora really works, as it does so perfectly in the current revival at Covent Garden, the it succeeds as one of the most moving and bracing operas of its kind.
Argentinean tenor José Cura (Ipanov) has a voice which is a decidedly acquired taste, reedy, sometimes even duck-like, but a sound which nonetheless registers as uniquely beautiful to those who have decided to accept it. He is a superb actor, a convincing-looking hero and an intelligent, spontaneous and gifted musician. The talk nowadays is all of Roberto Alagna as the great hope among young world-class tenors and Alagna will no-doubt assert himself as the people’s hero in years to come, but I have no doubt that Cura, with his unusually distinctive sound and equally abundant talent, will also rise to the dreaded supertenor status as special hero by appointment to the cognoscenti.
His touching portrait of Ipanov is matched all the way in this lavishly hypnotic revival by the superb performance of Maria Guleghina in the title role. Like many Russian sopranos, her Italian diction might do with a little polish, but that is a small matter when set against the blazing trail of her dramatic convictions. She is a singer who has but to open her mouth to persuade the audience of her point of view and her cleverly paced advance through the technical exigencies of this role is just as enthralling as the actual brilliance of tone she is so effortlessly able to produce. (until 2 December)
A Tip of the Hat to the Tenor
The Times
November 1995
Ian Brunskill
Not everybody likes Fedora. Rodney Milnes, for instance, who reviewed the production in The Time when it was new to Covent Garden last year, thinks it is the worst opera ever written—a conviction shaken only by exposure to Mascagni’s Iris. Yet Giordano’s verismo melodrama retains a firm place on the fringes of the repertory, enjoying lavish revivals in major international houses while more deserving rarities make do (at best) with the odd small-scale performance at some enterprising specialist festival.
Fedora’s appeal is certainly not dramatic. The plot—love, assassination and foreign travel, against a dim background of revolutionary intrigue—has little to commend it, as even Giordano may have realized, to judge by the way he belts through its twists and turns. Nor are the musical attractions compelling, although the score is atmospheric enough, with emotive effects often skillfully deployed.
The credit, such as it is, for Fedora’s survival must go to the singers who continue to be drawn to its two principal roles. Unlikely as it may seem, this is one of opera’s star vehicles.
The star in the current Covent Garden revival of Limberto Puggelli’s stylish, mainly monochrome production—and the justification for some starry ticket prices—is Placido Domingo, who gives the first of four performances tonight.
But on Saturday, for the opening night of the run, prices were lower and the tenor was the young Argentinian José Cura, who made his Royal Opera debut in similar circumstances in June, alternating with Domingo in Stiffelio. He has a vivid stage presence and shrewd dramatic intelligence, which he used to add convincing dignity and warmth to an essentially two-dimensional character. He also has a voice of real distinction—dry, slightly metallic, not always refined but ardent and authentically heroic, with ringing top notes. He returns for the last night of the run on December 2.
His ardor was matched by the Fedora of the Russian soprano Maria Guleghina, making a welcome and overdue Covent Garden debut. Passionate, intense, with lustrous tone and impressive power, she too brought to her role a conviction and credibility it hardly deserves. The same commitment was evident in nicely detailed cameos from a large supporting cast—a tribute to the efforts of the revival director, David Edwards, and to the poised, persuasive conducting of Edward Downes.
1998
The Argentine Tenor in Performance at Teatro Ghione in the Italian Capital
Clarins, 1998
Rome Applauds José Cura
With warm applause and unanimous murmurs of approval from the large audience, the Argentine tenor José Cura, one of the most notable young figures in the current opera field, appeared Sunday evening in the Theatre Ghione in Rome. Rising in the international sky after the success of his victory in the contest organized by the famous Hispanic tenor Plácido Domingo in Mexico City, José Cura has appeared since then in recitals and in venues of the first order with a repertoire that includes, among other big roles, Otello by Giuseppe Verdi and most of Giacomo Puccini’s works.
The CD that Cura recently recorded [of arias] from the same author of Tosca and La Bohéme has received the most laudatory comments from the international record critics, most notably for the expressive strength he brings to the main Puccini heroes, from Rodolfo and Cavaradossi through Pinkerton and Calaf. The album was directed, from the podium, by Plácido Domingo who in recent years has spent more time conducting, a profession he plans to devote himself to once he has stopped singing.
José Cura approached his successful Roman performance with a diverse program, with works of Argentine composers like Carlos Guastavino, Carlos Lopez Buchardo and songs of Maria Elena Walsh, Neapolitan songs by Paolo Tosti and lyrical pieces by Ottorino Respighi and Gabriel Fauré. In the second half of the concert, the part that, according to the Italian critics and reports from the main agencies, created delirium among the audience for a good part of the presentation, was dedicated to opera arias, listed in the paper, ‘Un dí all azzurro spazio,’ from the first act of the opera Andrea Chénier, by Umberto Giordano, ‘Donna non vidi mai,’ from Manon Lescaut by Puccini, and especially ‘Vesti la giubba,’ from Pagliacci, by Ruggiero Leoncavallo.
The articles reported that Cura communicated with the enthusiastic audience in the Italian capital up to the point of translating into Italian the texts of several songs, especially those of Argentine origin, and also in his interpretation of ‘Somewhere,’ from West Side Story from Leonard Bernstein, with which he had the audience eating out of his hand, in the graphical expression of one article as filled with enthusiasm as a good part of the fans.
The triumphant performance of José Cura culminated in an endless ovation.
1999
Stunning simplicity
(Filed: 19/05/1999)
SOMETIMES I wonder why opera bothers with stage production. For this enthralling concert performance of Verdi's Otello, the soloists simply lined up in front of the orchestra, wearing a variety of evening dress. For the most part, they faced the audience; occasionally they read from their scores. No sets, no lighting, no curtain-up.
But not for a moment did you doubt anyone's intense involvement in their characters, and rarely in a theatre have I felt the drama's emotional essence as powerfully communicated as it was here. Opera singers act so much better when they haven't been fed a lot of half-baked notions by pretentious directors and are allowed to let their interpretations infuse through the music and text unobstructed.
Interest at the Barbican focused on the Argentinian José Cura, taking the title role for the first time in London. He impressed me greatly. Although those of us with memories of Domingo and Vickers may miss the former's eloquent legato or the latter's howling anguish, Cura's young, bold and handsome Otello made its own mark.
His strong, dark, steady tenor lacks colour, but he uses it with musicality and intelligence. There was no recourse to bellowing, and the quiet intensity of Dio mi potevi and
was drawn with real sensibility. He should stop burying his head in his hands to convey despair: more of the finer, deeper points will come with experience.
Cura was fortunate in the cast that framed him. Carlos Alvarez made an impeccably crisp and urbane Iago, more top-hatted gentleman than disgruntled Sergeant-Major, and the pretty Bulgarian soprano Andrea Dankova was an ardent and vocally confident Desdemona - star potential here, I think.
Among the smaller roles only the British tenor John Daszak disappointed, with a tired-sounding Cassio. The London Symphony Chorus would have matched La Scala's in their stunning attack on the opening storm and the Act III ensemble.
Sir Colin Davis conducted. I had forgotten how fast he takes the piece. Detail is occasionally masked, but the dialogues never meander, the temperature never drops, and the climaxes were scorching. The LSO seemed invigorated by his demands and played superbly.
Focus on Tenors
New York Post
29 September 1999
Shirley Fleming
(excerpts)
Cavalleria rusticana featured the debut of a heralded young Argentinian tenor José Cura, while Pagliacci marked Placido Domingo’s 18th opening night at the Met.
Both men dodged bouquets tossed during curtain calls; neither disappointed the packed house.
Cura, stocky and handsome at 37, presents a picture of swaggering masculinity and commands a voice to match—a clear, focused tenor that carries well, rings nicely at the top and generates considerable emotional heat. It is not overwhelming in sheer volume, but his Turiddu stood up to the weight of his powerhouse co-star, soprano Dolora Zajick, and even when he was required to dash about the stage during a very busy drinking song, he maintained his stamina.
Attractive tenors don’t come alone every day, and Cura promises to be around for a while….
In Review
Opera News
December 1999
Brian Kellow
(excerpt)
...Cura, a figure of distinct stage presence, seemed to have absorbed Turiddu’s character, feeling how such a macho youth would behave and express himself—his guilt tinted with bravado, and vice versa. The voice, dramatically shaded rather than generically displayed, has a nice burr to it, with overtones of both menace and sensuality, well suited to freewheeling verismo.
Send in the Clowns
New York Metro
18 October 1999
Peter Davis
(excerpt)
At some point early in the planning stages, the evening was apparently intended to be a celebration of tenors: Luciano Pavarotti as Canio in Leoncavallo’s shocker, José Cura in his Met debut as Mascagni’s Turiddu, and Plácido Domingo on the podium. No doubt late-career discretion persuaded Pavarotti not to risk such a taxing role, so Domingo went on in his stead, Carlo Rizzi took over the conducting duties, and Cura appeared as scheduled.
Turiddu may be too short a role to make a fair assessment of Cura, already in hot demand around the world. His basic vocal personality bears a strong resemblance to [Domingo’s]: a voice more lyric than dramatic, with an attractively burnished but covered tone….He also takes a rather nonchalant, even slapdash attitude toward the music, perhaps to emphasize the sleazy side of this spoiled Sicilian stud. That Cura can easily do—he is a born stage animal with build-in sex appeal.
Musical Diary
New York Press
30 September 1999
Jay Nordlinger
(excerpt)
As is the evening’s number-one star, José Cura, the Argentine heartthrob who is, incidentally, an excellent singer. He is thought of as ‘The Next Plácido” but merely as Cura he’ll do well enough. His big aria, “Addio alla madre,” which is so easy to make risible, is a jolting surprise: it is understated, strangely quiet, well-paced, unhysterical, almost subdued—making it all the more effective. What’s more, Cura is a competent actor, at times verging on mesmerizing, with a minimum of staginess. The operatic public is made for this tenor, and properly so.
Now, the Two Tenors
Domingo Reigns at the Met, but Cura is also Commanding
All Editions
29 September 1999
Justin Davidson
(excerpt)
Domingo’s own anointed is José Cura, the 36 year old Argentinian who arrived at stardom fully equipped with a pleasantly brawny voice, solid musicality and the sort of looks that might get a few magazines interested in opera. He made his Met debut Monday singing Turiddu.
Cura appeared in Mascagni’s Cavalleria rusticana, a big wet sponge of an opera in which spasmodic arias lurch from sob to sob. It’s difficult to gauge an artist’s finesse in such a rough-hewn score, but there was not question that Cura commanded the house. His dark, thickly sinewed tenor—a baritone in disguise—lent itself well too Mascagni’s hearty sentimentality and to the role of the brash philanderer. He had energy, power and—never underestimate this—a macho stride.
So, if he was a little too fond of the obvious catch in the throat, that, too could be chalked up to the style. If he had a tendency to use excessive force on a phrase, well, that’s the sort of man Turiddu is. If a few noticeable notes went a little wide, what is intonation when there’s a duel to be fought? Cura is too good, and too good-looking, for the visually demanding opera world to resist.
New York Harvests a Garden of Delights
USA Today
12 October 1999
David Patrick Stearns
(excerpt)
Few singers cut such a dashing stage presence or project the inner lives of their characters so precisely as Cura.
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