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José Cura at the Classic Open Air Concert in Berlin

 

MAGRITTE AND THE GNAT

Montserrat Caballé and José Cura at the “Classic Open Air” on the Gendarmenmarkt Square in Berlin

 

Berlin Morgenpost

By Elmar Krekeler/ translated by Monica B.

 

One swallow does not make a summer.* But five, five swallows ought to do the trick, actually. And that’s why, since Tuesday evening, there is still hope for warmer weather in the coming weeks. Flying in formation, a feathered quintet came swooping down across the Gendarmenmarkt—and didn’t give a hoot about Verdi, Rossini or Puccini. High into the sky the birds rose and screeched brightly, holding their high notes. A bashful white cloud had been lingering somewhat to the left over the concert house--but only at the beginning; then it had scooted on. It remained the only emissary of that extensive low, which had rained- or rather hailed- on the parade of this year’s “Classic Open Air” night after night.

This time, the weather cooperated and behaved according to the forecasts by meteorologists: it remained dry. Actually, there was nothing but sunshine for the closing performance of the festival, for sure after the Argentine tenor José Cura had gotten rid of those last left-over areas of precipitation which were still nestled in his vocal chords at the outset.

An absolutely magical evening fell slowly across the bone-chillingly cold but probably most beautiful square in Central Europe. Magritte must have had a hand in arranging the details of the scenic background. People became patient, grew peaceful, calm, prepared –and willing- to enjoy.

Indeed, they had just as well. You see, Golo Berg, who was conducting the Anhalt Philharmonic, was at first obstinate in refusing to open the customary classic-radio box of treats from the Verdi, Puccini and Co., Inc. praline factory; instead, he dished out a memorably frayed overture of Verdi’s ‘Forza del destino’.

Only some fifteen or more minutes later did Berg, Cura and Monserrat Caballé indeed put the first block of classical sweets in front of the 7,400 who were assembled at the Gendarmenmarkt. With the exception of some strays like the ‘Traviata’ duet at the end and the firework of encores that didn’t want to come to a close, it was to remain the final excursion into the upper reaches of the hit parade of classics.

They could have made it easier for themselves. They embraced the middle range bravura pieces and took their own sweet time celebrating. On this evening, no one had any intention of setting speed records. Even a gnat that had gotten lost in Cura’s throat during Cilea’s ‘L’anima ho stanca’ (“Tastes horrible without mayonnaise”, Cura remarked, coughing hard), even that could not jeopardize the leisurely rhythmic workings of this spa treatment of orchestral and vocal sound. Golo Berg had decided that he wanted to relish every minute on the steps of the concert house as he conducted his orchestra from Dessau, whose accompaniment of the two celebrated vocal heroes was more than solid.

In this manner, the colors and rhythms melted away gradually, softly. The singers were free to sob and love and smooch and smack and suffer and implore the Virgin in heaven in this atmosphere of heartrendingly genial leisure. With his dark timbre, Cura was altogether the tenor pop star; behind her music stand, Monserrat Caballé lifted her soprano into treble spheres. In the end, the little Spanish “grande dame” among international coloratura sopranos and the mighty Argentinean star tenor (meanwhile also a conductor) were lying in each other’s arms. By then, the adoring crowd had already been lying at their feet for a long time--nothing unexpected here.

It was going on midnight, when the unequal pair stepped down for this time. The swallows had long since vanished. A few shooting stars flashed across the square—it could also have been lightning bugs.

It might be best if we started to set up candles now, so that no one has to get wet next year. Perhaps it would also be helpful if José Cura and Monserrat Caballé made their appearance right at the beginning of the festival. When angels sing, the weather will get better…but then, that’s only a farmer’s adage we’ve made up just now.

More Acclaim for José Cura as Samson

Opera Japanica

Maria Nockin

"José Cura as Samson is effective from the dramatic point of view: as a warrior and a prophet he has his entrance in a modest way and then incites his people with fervour and dignity (what dignity permitted him by the short tunic he dresses in during all three acts). From the dramatic viewpoint, his highlight is not the intimate second act, where Olga Borodina as Dalila dominates, but the third act, where the tragic and pathetic vein of this singer finds a vent in the lament "Vois ma misère” and then in the pressing rise towards the final invocation to God and the destruction of the temple." (L’Opera, Marta Tonegutti)  Translated by Cicci

 

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"The Lyric Opera of Chicago is one of the few companies that offers premieres on weeknights. On Tuesday, December 16, it presented Camille Saint-Saëns' Samson et Dalila as a setting for spectacular singing by Russian mezzo-soprano, Olga Borodina and Argentine tenor, José Cura. Borodina was an exciting Dalila with all the vocal and physical attributes that the role demands, a perfect temptress whose captivating seduction made it easy for the legendary warrior lay down his weapons. She gave a 'golden age' performance.

Cura sang with powerful dark tones, impressing the audience with his stagecraft and athletic physique. In his interpretation he showed that he was aware of his weakness for Dalila, but totally unable to resist. He had not been heard at the Lyric Opera in nine years and he received a warm welcome. Jean Philippe Lafont was an evil high priest who sang with an acid tone, Tigran Martirossian a mocking, acerbic Abimelech and Raymond Aceto a touching Old Hebrew. The chorus, led by Donald Palumbo, performed well throughout and conductor, Emmanuel Villaume, drew sensuous sonorities from the fine orchestra. Special kudos go to the woodwinds for their exquisite work in the love scene.

Sandra Bernhard's production was effective without being overdone. Set designer, Douglas Schmidt, made Dalila's Act II boudoir visually piquant with diaphanous draperies and it provided a wonderful background for seduction. The finale worked perfectly, too, with the coordinated collapse of the temple barely preceding the falling curtain. Costumer, Carrie Robbins, had attractive singers to dress and she decked them out in an aura of beauty: Samson in a short robe and Dalila in flowing garments. The only weak point in the whole production was the rather lack-luster ballet which did not seem in keeping with the sinuous rhythms of the Baccanale."  

 

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Chicago 'Samson' a don't-miss affair     

       
By Erik Eriksson
News-Chronicle

Lyric Opera of Chicago begins the New Year just as it ended the old one - and that's welcome news. Lyric Opera's opulent production of Saint-Saëns' "Samson et Dalila" is an absorbing example of opera at its best and shakes loose any residing notions that this work is too oratoriolike, too static.

With two principals who bring large voices, exemplary physical appearance and incandescent histrionic gifts, "Samson et Dalila" flames up as it rarely has in its century-and-a-quarter lifespan. Opera enthusiasts have six more opportunities to hear and view this production (resuming Friday, Jan. 9), one we deem a "don't miss" affair.

Beyond the luminescence of the two title artists, the production is what Wagner called "Gesamtkunstwerk" come to life. It holds accomplished singing, spectacular scenic design, costuming both lavish and honest, powerful theater and superb choral work. Such a well-balanced enterprise underscores opera's ability to engage and move audiences on multiple levels.

The Samson, Argentinean tenor Jose Cura, began roughly, the tone in his upper middle voice curdling to a near yodel. Bottom and top registers sounded intact, but this unsteadiness around the "passaggio" is unsettling from one who just six years ago offered a suave, smooth integration of registers and a trim, thrilling vibrato. Notwithstanding this problem (one we hope he will address with a first-class vocal pedagogue), Cura was a powerful, subtle, ultimately profoundly moving leader of the Israelites. He has the volume, the dark good looks, the sense of stagecraft and the massive physique of a body-builder.

After ranting a bit in the first act, he settled down to singing of nuance and purpose. In the first scene of the final act, pushing a millstone, he made Samson's anguish heartbreaking and he lifted himself in the temple scene to the final note that brings down the house - literally. A noble, courageous portrayal.

No reservations whatever apply to his Dalila, Russian mezzo-soprano Olga Borodina. This beautiful artist has a lustrous instrument of such range and exquisite dark hues, of such volume (as to set loose torrents of sound in the big moments), of such overwhelming sensuality - that she occupies a realm apart from all other exponents of Dalila in the past 50 or 60 years. Before that, no one comes to mind who might outrank her.

Borodina was resolute in her perceived duty to the Philistines, despite residual feelings toward her former lover. In her seduction of Samson, she was the most dangerous of women. Borodina's is one of the truly great voices of the present age and, here, it was displayed in a role its owner commands absolutely.

Among the rest of a strong cast, Tigran Martirossian was a haughty, handsome-toned Abillech, his firm bass establishing all necessary authority. Baritone Jean-Phillipe Lafont was an imposing High Priest of Dagon with a menacing voice now beginning to fray a little. Bringing gravity and pathos to the Old Hebrew, bass Raymond Aceto had the granitic timbre and full low notes to make the most of his role.

Patrick Miller and Christopher Dickerson were fine as the First and Second Philistines and Green Bay tenor Scott Ramsay made a cameo of the Philistine messenger, singing with lovely, plangent tone and acting with fevered urgency.

The Lyric Opera chorus, for years one of the world's best, sang with such full, gleaming, finely tuned sound and acted with such intensity that it claimed a leading part in the production. Choral singing of such splendor can never be taken for granted.

Douglas W. Schmidt's sets were luxuriant, with special attractions in Dalila's pavilion and the massive temple which collapsed at the end with striking verisimilitude. Christine Binder's lighting was always apposite and frequently breathtaking. The Lyric Opera Ballet executed a bacchanal of utmost sensuality, avoiding all suggestions of overheated kitsch.

Finally, in the pit before Lyric Opera's extraordinary orchestra, was a Frenchman of uncommon eloquence. Conductor Emmanuel Villaume made the most of his players' virtuosity in pressing moments that benefit from propulsion, yet lingering when Borodina wished to prolong her act one aria ("Printemps qui commence") with suggestive languor.

Not for a moment does this "Samson et Dalila" flag; rather, the full measure of its decadence, sensuality, betrayal and triumph resounds with clarion call.

Eriksson writes about classical music and jazz for The News-Chronicle.

 

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Lyric cast delivers powerful, guileful 'Sampson et Dalila'


By John von Rhein
Tribune music critic

December 15, 2003

Talk about your weapons of mass seduction. Olga Borodina, as the Philistine uber-temptress Delilah in "Samson et Dalila," has them all, and they're hidden in plain sight.

When we first behold her, singing of the amorous delights of spring in Lyric Opera's handsome revival of the Saint-Saëns opera, she is so ravishing to the eyes and ears as to turn any stout-hearted Samson to marshmallow. Listen to Borodina's soft phrases that curl as sinuously as Delilah's motives. This siren knows Samson's strength and faith cannot withstand her sensuous wiles. No wonder Jose Cura, as the biblical strongman she loves to hate, succumbs without much of a struggle.

The extraordinary Russian mezzo-soprano finally made her Lyric debut in her signature role Saturday at the Civic Opera House, and if Borodina's performance towered over everyone else's, much else reminded us how good Lyric Opera can be when the stars are in proper alignment. The singing, conducting, playing and production values all were first-rate, and there was that spectacular temple collapse at the end for those needing a theatrical frisson to tide them over until "Phantom of the Opera" returns in March.

Back after 14 years was the opulently kitschy production -- sets by Douglas W. Schmidt, costumes by Carrie Robbins, lighting by Christine Binder -- Lyric has been sharing with the San Francisco Opera since 1991. It still looks terrific.  Nicolas Joel's name is no longer on the production credits, but the new director, Sandra Bernhard, has focused the show's dramatic energies in such a way that no one can accuse Saint-Saens' one-hit wonder of being a staged oratorio.

Borodina reminded one why Saint-Saens toyed briefly with the idea of calling his opera "Dalila." A mesmerizing singing actress can bring down the house with the role, and she did.

Delilah stands between Samson, whose power is vulnerable through his strength, and the High Priest of the Philistines, whose strength lies only in the power he wields over the oppressed Hebrews. Each of her three arias made slightly different use of Borodina's mezzo-soprano, with its dark, velvety, voluptuous timbre. Indeed, the subtle inflections of her singing and her dramatic skills gave the seductress far more complexity than one usually finds.

"Printemps qui commence" was a slow, soft reverie floating on a ravishing cushion of sound. In "Amour, viens aider ma faiblesse," Delilah called for strength; in "Mon coeur s'ouvre a ta voix," she summoned everything she had to learn the source of Samson's power. Her Act 2 scene with baritone Jean-Philippe Lafont as they plotted the Israelite hero's downfall was gripping music drama.

Borodina delivered as lusciously sung and cannily portrayed a Delilah as you will hear in any opera house today. It's good to have this important artist singing at Lyric, at long last.

Cura certainly looked the part of the brawny Samson and, once past the hectoring tone with which he oversang the hero's opening scene, the Argentine tenor mustered the heroic timbre and dramatic declamation needed to get him through this demanding French tenor role. He aptly conveyed Samson's Tannhauser-like struggle between faith and the flesh. His most intense and poignant singing came in "Vois ma misere," when the blinded, shackled captive despairingly cried out to God. At quieter dynamic levels, however, the music needed more elegance and a smoother legato line.

Lafont may be rather rough of timbre but, as the only Francophone in the cast, he sang the fanatical High Priest with idiomatic style, attack and diction, fully inside the character's ferocity and cruelty. Bass Tigran Martirossian introduced an Abimelech of grave, sonorous impact, while bass Raymond Aceto made sure we paid attention to the Old Hebrew's brief scene, which normally is barely noticed.

The Lyric Opera Orchestra is having one of its best seasons ever, and Emmanuel Villaume, making a welcome debut in the pit, is one of the reasons. The Strasbourg-born conductor has great idiomatic feeling for the score, and it showed in scene after scene: from the atmospheric way he built tension and release, to his flexible regard for the singers' needs, to the wealth of color and rhythmic élan he brought to the orgiastic Bacchanale. The dancers executed this ballet with bare-chested bravado. Kenneth von Heidecke was the choreographer.

 

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LOC Samson Review from Opera News

Critical opinion of Saint-Saens’s one hit, Samson et Dalila, often veer toward self-conscious patronization, as though learned men were embarrassed to admit they really like it.  In truth, the opera is hardly a masterpiece.  A certain dramatic rigidity, particularly in Act 1, betrays the work’s original oratorio concept, and design excess has tended to render it as glitzy, quasi-Biblical kitsch.  However, when Samson et Dalila is as intelligently produced as it was in Lyric Opera of Chicago’s stunning revival (seen Dec. 18), it can be a terrific night at the opera.

Smoldering at the center of the Lyric production were José Cura and Olga Borodina, in her long-awaited Lyric debut.  The Argentinean tenor was last seen here in 1994, a promising young talent subbing for Plácido Domingo in Fedora.  Cura returns an international star in what has become a signature role for him, and with good reason.  He unleashed torrents of ringing heroic tone within a dramatic conception that remained convincing, from the eroticism of the Dalila with the child in the final scenes.  His voice seemed to gain power through the evening, yet he maintained the necessary control for some delicate pianissimos in the opening of Act III.  Cura’s is not a refined sound, and there is a certain lack of French elegance; but this is an exciting performer who here provided a wealth of visceral thrill. 

Borodina was even better.  She has a gorgeous voice, with a chesty, throbbing quality that retains its roundness throughout the register, and she is capable of the rapid passagework required for the temple ensemble.  If her Act I demeanor was a trifle cool, the sensuality of the seduction scene was palpable, and her “Mon Coeur s’ouvre a ta voix” was one of the most beautiful in memory. 

Jean-Philippe Lafont’s High priest was a sneering demon of insinuating malevolence.  His vibrato has loosened somewhat, but the voice remains imposingly resonant, and his handling of the French text is a pleasure to hear.  Tigran Martirossian, in his Lyric debut as Abimelech, and Raymond Aceto as the Old Hebrew contributed sonorous bass voices to the timbral mix.  Lyric Opera Center’s Scott Ramsay, Christopher Dickerson and Patrick Miller did well by the spooked-out Philistines.  (Mark Thomas Ketterson)

 

José Cura Scores as Samson at ROH

The Stage

18 March 2004

Argentinian José Cura, arguably the most gifted spinto tenor of his generation...is sturdy and handsome as the Israelite champion

'Saint-Saëns's biblical epic makes a welcome return to Covent Garden with Elijah Moshinsky on hand to revive his 1981 production. Sir Sidney Nolan's designs ensure that the visuals largely avoid the trap of falling into Cecil B De Mille vulgarity, though the tricky Act III Bacchanale barely makes it.

Otherwise it is a mixed evening from a cast that does not quite live up to its potential. Argentinian José Cura, arguably the most gifted spinto tenor of his generation, has some wonderful moments but a tendency to allow his voice practically to disappear for effects that don't quite come off. He is sturdy and handsome as the Israelite champion but at times a touch disengaged.

American mezzo Denyce Graves has a grand instrument that can flesh out Dalila's music superbly but again there is an impression that her concentration is patchy. One or two moments are sketchy and dramatically she paints with a broad brush.

Bruno Caproni's High Priest matches the central duo with plenty of voice but a lack of definition in his performance as a whole. There is a superb Abimelech from Armenian bass Tigran Martirossian – what a shame he gets killed off so early – and an outstanding Old Hebrew from Romanian bass Julian Rodescu.

The chorus has another excellent evening – they are on unbeatable form these days – and the orchestra plays well for Philippe Jordan, though he does not quite provide sufficient subtlety and finesse to ensure the piece registers as first-class.'  (George Hall)

 

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Samson et Dalila

 

Royal Opera House, London

Tim Ashley
Monday March 15, 2004
The Guardian

The issue of theatrical verisimilitude in opera continues to loom over Covent Garden. Early last week came Deborah Voigt's announcement that the Royal Opera had dropped her from its production of Ariadne auf Naxos on account of her weight - a decision taken two years ago, it now transpires. Now we have a revival of Samson and Delilah, in which Denyce Graves, playing the heroine, is rather obviously pregnant.

Some might consider this inappropriate for Saint-Saëns seductress, but in fact it matters not one jot in the light of Graves's mesmerising performance. She prowls the stage like some feral animal in heat. The smile, at once triumphant and seductive, that crosses her face each time she contemplates Jose Cura's equally sexy Samson, speaks volumes about Delilah's ambivalent motivations. Though her voice occasionally lacks power at the top, the opulence of her lower registers suggest both sexual voracity and infinite danger.

Cura, unsurprisingly, reacts to her as one spellbound, tracking her every move with his huge eyes, fondling her body at every opportunity. His Samson is at once a sensualist and a fanatic, a man in whom desire and spiritual conviction burn with equal, violent intensity. His voice is in better shape than when he sang the role in concert at the Barbican two years ago. There are still moments of rawness in the tone under pressure, though he responds to Graves's seductions with honeyed whispers and captures Samson's mental and physical agony with frightening vividness in the closing scenes.

Bruno Caproni's High Priest, though vocally less imposing, flutters round them like some malign insect, pruriently fascinated by Delilah's sexuality and drooling over Samson's mutilated body towards the end with indecent relish. Philippe Jordan, conducting, favours slower speeds than most, though his judgment of Saint-Saëns juxtaposition of the sensual and the religious is immaculate. Above all, however, he anchors the score in a sense of primordial ritual, a reminder that Samson et Dalila, despite its biblical subject, comes closer than any other 19th-century opera to the formal model of classical tragedy. Elijah Moshinsky's production, meanwhile, with its mixture of Judaic spirituality and orientalist languor, is still remarkably effective, though David Bintley's choreography for the orgy, deemed daring when it was new in 1981, has dated a bit. You could argue than the work has been done more subtly, but this is an engrossing evening - thrilling, visceral and very erotic.

 

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From the Independent:  'It has to be said that [Denyce Graves] and her Samson, José Cura, looked really comfortable with each other. The body language of their fateful tryst was the one great lie that the production made believable - her deceit, his desire. Cura looks great in the role - and he sounds pretty good, too. The swarthy complexion of the voice has always been his strong selling point. And that's what counts in this role - middle-voice masculinity.'  Edward Seckerson, 17 March 2004

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From The Telegraph:  '[From Cura]...out of nowhere comes a burst of splendidly heroic singing or the fine etching of a sensitive musical point.'  Rupert Christiansen, 16 March 2004

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From the Financial Times:  'José Cura makes a forthright tenor noise as Samson and judges his histrionics with taste.'  David Murray, 15 March 2004 

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From the Evening Standard:  'The Argentinian José Cura...now ranks as one of the world's top Samsons.

Large and muscular, he looks ready to topple any old temple and moves with the sass of one who knows as much…his remorseful Act III aria, when shorn and eyeless in Gaza he turns the mill, had real force.'  Fionna Maddocks, 15 March 2004

>

 

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It's all grist to his millstone

The Times
By John Allison
Opera: Samson et Dalila
Covent Garden

March 15, 2004

 

WHETHER by accident or design, the Royal Opera is in the middle of a mini Elijah Moshinsky festival. One night after the final performance of his staging of Simon Boccanegra, this revival of his 23-year-old production of Samson et Dalila has opened to allow Saint-Saëns’s biblical blockbuster a brief return to Covent Garden. Moshinsky’s Il trovatore is due back in May, but, given the new management’s avowed intention to modernise production values, this may be less of a fest than a last blast.

Yet where the Boccanegra is something of a classic with plenty of life left in it, this Samson et Dalila is now in need of retirement. No one should blame the Royal Opera’s music director, Antonio Pappano, for wanting to replace this sort of thing, but good stagings of the work are hard to find: despite its manifold musical attractions, this most popular of Saint-Saëns’s 13 operas is not helped by the hokum of its subject-matter, which, if it means anything, puts religion into perspective by reminding us that the first suicide bomber was a biblical hero.

Yet it is a pity that it comes across here with as much subtlety as a Cecil B. De Mille spectacular, for the staging does showcase some designs by the great Australian artist Sidney Nolan that will never date. His curtains are striking for their earthy reds, and it hardly matters that they are perhaps more evocative of the Outback than the Middle East.

Unfortunately the crowd scenes suggest a collision with The King and I, and the  climactic Bacchanale is more Papua New Guinea than Gaza: the “primitive” choreography is surely a greater crime against political correctness than the Royal Opera’s much-publicised dropping of a large soprano.

Fortunately, musical values triumph here, thanks especially to the brilliant young Swiss conductor Philippe Jordan. The orchestra and chorus are on fine form. Under Jordan’s baton the sinewy opening scene, depicting the enslaved Israelites at prayer, comes across with masterful control. He supplies as much drama as possible in a work that sometimes veers closer to oratorio than opera.

José Cura is a very strong Samson: his dark tenor is in good shape with a ringing power, and he is an actor of fearless physicality. Denyce Graves sounds less glamorous than she looks; although her edgy mezzo-soprano becomes smoother as the evening progresses she lacks the seductive tone for Dalila’s famous love song. Bruno Caproni is an effective High Priest, Tigran Martirossian an imposing Abimelech, and Julian Rodescu’s Old Hebrew is the very voice of resonant authority.

 

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José Cura a 'Definitive' Samson at ROH

Anthony Holden
Sunday March 21, 2004
The Observer

He may be the most hirsute of heroes, but Samson is not necessarily the smartest. As Delilah piles on the wiles to seduce him, you'd think he might notice that she is heavily pregnant, perhaps even venture the odd question as to paternity. It's certainly an intriguing new twist on the old, familiar story.

 

And it's a tribute to Covent Garden's revival of Saint-Saëns's Samson et Dalila , especially six-months-gone Denyce Graves, that the heroine's visibly expectant condition does not, if she'll pardon the expression, get in the way of the action. Thanks to some ingenious improvisation in the costume department, the sultry American mezzo is as sexy a seductress as any, stalking the stage like a wild animal on heat, using her bewitching eyes as much as her velvet voice to ensnare José Cura's equally erotic Samson. The management that dumped a soprano for being too fat is to be congratulated on risking a mezzo temporarily ample for happier reasons.

But they must have shed pounds themselves as Cura rolled on top of her in the beautifully staged seduction scene ('Mon coeur s'ouvre à ta voix'), centrepiece of Elijah Moshinsky's 23-year-old production, which he is to be commended for returning to redirect himself. Only David Bintley's 1981 choreography for the final scene bacchanal is beginning to look its camp age in a sumptuous staging which can otherwise remain a Covent Garden standard for years yet, especially with conductors as simpatico as the masterful Philippe Jordan.

The last Samson I saw was Placido Domingo in New York. For all his vocal longevity, Domingo can no longer bring to this testing role the youthful vigour exuded by Cura, whose voice has steadied at both ends of the register since an overly histrionic concert performance at the Barbican 18 months ago.

The dashing Argentinian finally seems to be shedding his tendency to play shamelessly to the gallery, not least to his blue-rinse groupies. In this incarnation, with the magnificent Graves raising his game, Cura is wholly convincing, even moving during the treadmill scene, edging me reluctantly towards a rare use of that dodgy critical word 'definitive'.

Spectator

27 March 2004

The Royal Opera isn't having any trouble, I imagine, with its latest revival of Samson et Dalila.  I have read some notices that were highly critical of this 1981 staging, with designs by Sydney Nolan, though everyone agrees that his paintings and sets are so striking that they should be preserved in some form, though it's not easy to envisage which.  Elijah Moshinsky's traditional production has drawn critical contempt, but think what is most likely to replace it:  Samson is a terrorist, the secret of whose power it's essential  for the Philistines to discover, and no doubt there have already been several productions of the opera in which its contemporary significance is clearly spelled out. As it is, the production gives a fine collection of principals the opportunity to portray characters who are unarguably created in the line which led to the great Hollywood biblical epic.  Really any production of the work needs only a persuasively butch Samson and a Dalila who can come on very strong.  

 

José  Cura answers the first need to a T, and, furthermore, since I last saw him in the role he has developed an amazing capacity to sing quietly, so that his assurances to Dalila after she had opened her heart to his voice that 'Je t'aime' were positively murmured.  Mostly, though, he was singing at full throttle, and sounding superb.  Denyce Graves was not, this time round, quite worthy of him.  She moves, even in advanced pregnancy, well; but something is affecting her voice, and it was often gritty, with low notes detached from the vocal line.  She, too, managed the palpitating warmth of the duet well, and it was, as it must be, the climax of the opera.  It is wonderful to see these two veterans of this tale of lust and fanaticism behaving with such practised ease, the result of years of close acquaintance.  They would look odd in an interpretation of the opera that departed from stereotype, which they perfectly incarnate.  And Samson is not an opera which will ever profit from thoughtfulness on the side of its producers or performers.

 

Philippe Jordan conducted with flamboyant flair for the work, bringing out its orchestral colour and imparting to it plenty of rhythmic verve - he needed to, for, like so many conductors these days, he favours broad tempi.  It's reassuring, again, to see the Royal Opera keeping its elderly productions alive and writhing.

What's On

Michael Darvell

24 March 2004

Much has been said in the press about the Royal Opera's Samson et Dalila production by Elijah Moshinsky in which Dalila is played by an obviously pregnant Denyce Graves.  It doesn't, however, seem to have inhibited the singer from giving a brilliant performance.  It is a role she is quite at home with, having sung it at the Met. in Vienna and with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra.  She seems born to play the seductress, as anyone who has seen the lady as Carmen - her Royal Opera debut in 1993 - will remember how electrifying she can be.  Perhaps one day we might be able to see her as Salome, for as Dalila she is in the same mould, a scheming bitch on the prowl and determined to trap Samson and sap his strength.  She must be the prototype control freak of all time.  

 

In he opposite corner José Cura also gives a performance of great power, so obviously the chemistry is just right between these two great singers.  It is not always so, but when it happens, it produces sparks of magic.  If the opera itself is a little overblown, the singers manage to dampen it down and make it halfway believable, although as it is now some 25 yeas old, it reeks of a schmaltziness, especially in the orgy where David Bintley's choreography reminds us of the campiness of Hedy Lamarr and Victor Mature in the 1950s film version, and when both Cura and Graves are lying on the floor singing their hearts out.  I'm also not too sure about Sidney Nolan's designs which are now much too painterly for today's tastes.  The royal Opera Orchestra play for all they are worth under the direction of Philippe Jordan who brings an European sensibility to the music.  The chorus under Terry Edwards are at their usual best and there are other fine performances, notably by Tigran Martirossian's Abimelech, Bruno Caproni's High Priest and Julian Rodescu's Old Hebrew.

Fan Commentary, from Marion:

José gave us another extraordinary performance last night. He looked fantastic, like a storybook biblical hero come to life, with lovely long curly hair topping his handsome bearded face. In Act 1 the scene with the old Hebrew was very effective: José wore a long Jewish prayer shawl over his head and wrapped around him while he knelt before the rabbi to be blessed. Being Jewish ourselves we were touched by this although we are not at all religious normally!  It was a pity the spell was broken when someone in the audience blew their nose noisily while the choir sang their beautiful but quiet chant and at the back of the stage something fell down making a clattering noise. These were just two of a few first night hiccups.

José and Denyce Graves were perfectly cast and their partnership in Act II just sizzled, not just in the duet but the whole lead up to it, with the tension of Dalila wondering if Samson was going to appear giving an almost electric charge. They sang Mon coeur s'ouvre a ta voix lying down together and it must have been one of the greatest performances of that aria ever, their voices blending perfectly, the acting realistic and sexy. In fact, José was so lovable as Samson it was quite hard to believe Dalila would want to betray him!  Unfortunately, this scene also contained another of the problems they had with the set. There were stairs covered with a loose fabric near the front of the stage and at the beginning of the Act the High Priest of Dagon caught his foot in it and fell down them having to be steadied momentarily by Dalila (who was very noticeably 5 months pregnant!), then later on poor Samson himself came to grief tripping on it and falling 'up' the stairs. Fortunately this was only for a split second and didn't interfere with the action at all. 

 José's performance of Vois ma misere, while he was chained to the grindstone, was absolutely brilliant, his singing and acting quite heart-rending. He put so much effort into it physically, falling heavily on to his knees and looking to be in real pain from the chains around his wrists. I cannot think who could perform this better amongst today's singers and just wish it could be filmed for a wider audience. Unfortunately his great effort was marred slightly at the end of the scene when the drop curtain landed on his head instead of in front of him and had to be lifted off manually by stagehands! He was also wonderful in the final Act while blind and being humiliated by Dalila and the Philistines. 

During the Bacchanale there was a sacrifice of a very cuddly looking stuffed goat and later on Dalila made Samson drink its blood that he thought was water. What a horrifying idea but it was effective. Samson tried to escape and José was very energetic at this point rolling across the stage and throwing himself off the main platform but he landed very heavily. I thought he'd hurt himself but he seemed OK after a while. Then came the moment when he asked the small boy to lead him up to the pillars and as always he looked and sounded as if he really had the strength to knock down a building. He was quite marvelous but the actual staging of the fall of the temple was not as spectacular as I have seen in other productions and I am not entirely sure the pillars came down as fully as they should have done. This didn't matter as José's performance alone was enough to make it exciting and once the curtain came up again which took some time he got loud applause and was very well received.

Good heavens, there he is: such an attractive and engaging appearance; a voice like that; a musical talent of this magnitude, this broad a scope; and above all, such a need to break down barriers. That kind of thing bears fruit which concert organizers are only too happy to gather. What better way to refute the progressive disinterest in the classics. The halls are overflowing.

 

With Cura, the music passes through all of its various states: singing, conducting, and a Beatles song-for which he accompanies himself on the guitar-as an encore. There isn’t a soul who can resist the impression that he has the privilege of taking part in a dialog, of being taken by the hand with warmth to be lead down the paths of all (the various) genres. Results guaranteed. Sunday afternoon, the tenor brought Victory Hall to its feet after having offered up an entire musical panoply.

 

On the vocal side, one is wrapped in this timbre that is half-metallic, half-wooden, brilliant and sharp. Baritonal yet lyrical and heroic, this tenor possesses the courage of conquerors. His Verdi, Ponchielli, Meyerbeer and Panizza arias all testify to this phenomenal, sonorous projection which keeps the listener glued to his seat.

 

With a gentleness that is more coaxing than disruptively overwhelming, Cura also knows how to lead, to guide the musicians with the baton.

 

His very physical version of Dvorak’s Symphony from the New World leaves no room for dillydallying. The ensemble is brought into shape with a solid hand; the brio passages are sustained with strength and power.

 

The Sinfonietta of Lausanne begins to look like a great symphonic formation in spite of some rare wavering. It was a shower of music from which the listeners left entirely reinvigorated, and some (women) capsized.

 

Sylvie Bonier/ translation by Monica B.

 

 

 

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Berne

 

 

'His humour was great, his performance stunning and the standing ovations would not end. He enjoyed the long lasting applauses so much and was deeply impressed by the warm welcome. He was also very happy that the performance was sold out.'  Graziella

 

Geneva

 

'I just return from Geneva where I saw yesterday the concert of José Cura: it was superb: he sang divinement and conducted the symphony in a marvellous way! And like always, he was generous and very nice at the time of autographs (and in the street before the concert!)'   Sandrine

 

José Cura Takes London

 You wait years for a nice young tenor...

...and then 10 come along at once. Sadly, though, they're not all as dashing and gifted as José Cura

Anthony Holden
Sunday November 7, 2004
The Observer

As if those Three Tenors were not enough, the London solicitor, opera fanatic and part-time promoter Ian Rosenblatt has now wheeled on 10. Together they made a heck of a noise in the drinking song from Cavalleria Rusticana ; individually, they strutted their nascent stuff in everything from Verdi and Puccini to Rimsky-Korsakov and Cilea.

With decidedly mixed results. There were times when the evening reminded me of the audition scene in The Producers, when the first toothbrush-moustached aspirant steps forward to strangle 'A wand'ring minstrel, I'. Striding on and off in rapid succession, as if in a penguin-suited, vocal version of Mr Universe, some of these young talents shone considerably brighter than others. Denied the chance to tell us their hobbies, or express a deep-seated desire for world peace, they could only let their voices do the talking.

As the evening began and ended with José Cura showing them how, in those flash tenor showcases 'Vesti la giubba' and 'E lucevan le stelle', all nine twentysomethings were up against it from the off. No fewer than five of them, moreover, were last-minute replacements; even the scheduled conductor, Tugan Sokhiev, dropped out amid apparent backstage tenorial carnage.

So the Philharmonia's leader, James Clark, had to step up to the podium as an unlikely emergency conductor while Cura made light work of the Leoncavallo and Puccini standards. The dashing Argentinian then proved himself a stylish and sympathetic master of ceremonies, giving all nine wannabes the time and space to display their wares in the shiniest possible light.

As Cura had elegantly demonstrated, the tenor's art is as much to do with expressiveness, communication skills and body language as with the voice. Only three young hopefuls stood out: Baku-born Dmitri Voropaev in Mozart and Rimsky-Korsakov, the Mexican Dante Alcalá in Verdi and Giordano and the Uruguayan Juan Carlos Valls in Verdi and Cilea. Despite impressive fortissimo top notes, there was little convincing characterisation from the South Korean Woo Kyung Kim as Verdi's Duke of Mantua and Bizet's Don José or the Odessa-born Kostyantyn Andreyev (a Domingo protégé) as Puccini's Rodolfo and Cavaradossi.

One of only two British participants, Adrian Dwyer showed more eloquence than personality as Mozart's Tamino and Puccini's Rinuccio. Otherwise, the man in front of me was quite right to shake his head sadly during several acts of suicidal miscasting. Given an audience so partisan as to clap, even cheer, before the orchestra stopped playing, the reception received by all 10 was wholly indiscriminate.

With Richard Desmond, Kelvin Mackenzie and sundry City tycoons among his corporate clients, Rosenblatt apparently spends £250,000 a year of his own money promoting these tenor bonanzas, which boast Carlos Alvarez and Juan Diego Flórez among recent graduates. It is to be hoped that his commendable championship leads to more such discoveries. On this occasion, however, my prime response was relief as much as amazement that, amid 20 arias from 10 tenors, no one attempted 'Nessun Dorma'.

 

 

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José Cura, Tenor and Conductor, in London

 

Ten Tenors Gala Concert, Royal Festival Hall, London

By Robert Maycock

08 November 2004

Fifteen, actually. The line-up of so many soloists sounded too good to be true and, in a promoter's nightmare of epic proportions, half of them failed to arrive. One was ill, two double-booked, nobody quite knew what happened to the others. Never mind: this was an event run by hard-core enthusiasts, so they went out and got five more. Mystified members of the audience were greeted with a sheet in which performers and no-shows alike were named and, if appropriate (they know who they are), shamed.

Some event it was, too. José Cura was the big draw, but he spent most of the time conducting. The spotlight fell, as intended, on the other nine. It was the latest wheeze of the solicitor Ian Rosenblatt, who is a connoisseur of singers and fanatical about the higher ranges of the male voice. Concerned to bring on the cream of the next generation, he gives them London recitals and this time stumped up for an improbable gathering that no commercial promoter could afford. He is well advised by Cura, who was his first beneficiary. You'd have been hard put to guess by listening alone who were the first choices and who were the last-minute substitutes.

The experience was riveting because of the strange, glorious variety of personal sounds and techniques. One after another, in a briskly managed succession, they sang short arias, most coming back later for a second. Enjoyment ruled, not least among players of the Philharmonia who accompanied them. Apart from normal male rivalry, it wasn't at all competitive, though a star of the night emerged in Woo-Kyung Kim, who brought the house down with excerpts from Macbeth and Carmen. Winner of two major competitions this year, he is very much the finished article, with superbly developed voice production and an electrifying ability to draw out long phrases.

At the opposite extreme, Dmitri Korchak had the skill of heightening emotion through intensely quiet delivery, as well as a vibrant, dynamic dimension. Kostyantyn Andreyev may have stuck to Puccini, but proved himself a better Italian stylist than the Latin contingent, and a more natural actor, too. Most impressive of the Latins was Juan Carlos Valls, especially in his searching performance of a rare number from Cilea's L'Arlesiana. Ronald Samm may have been the least experienced, but he showed fire and dramatic presence in the death aria from Otello.

All the others impressed in one item or another. Cura restricted himself to three items, so that he did himself justice while managing not to upstage his colleagues. Conducting, he made a natural accompanist and shaped orchestral phrases persuasively on what must have been minimal rehearsal. Three Tenors fans had to wait for their fun and games until the encore gave them nine tenors in stirring unison, and sent them home buzzing and enlightened.

 

 

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The Ten Tenors

 Royal Festival Hall, London

Tim Ashley
Thursday November 4, 2004
The Guardian

This was a curious occasion. Billed as "The Ten Tenors gala", and initially promising a lineup of singers ranging from the starry to the little known, it seemingly went through multiple problems - including the withdrawal of conductor Tugan Sokhiev and no fewer than five of the projected 10 tenors - before reaching its final format.

What we wound up with was Argentinian heartthrob José Cura, his voice in excellent shape, singing the occasional aria, then taking over the baton while nine unknowns, all in their 20s, went through their paces. The result felt like a cross between a public audition and a talent contest, with many of the audience scribbling marks out of 10 in their programmes and groups of supporters vociferously - at times intrusively - cheering on their favourites.

If good singing can be defined as a combination of vocal beauty with sharpness of characterisation and communicative power, then two of the nine distinguished themselves. Dmitri Voropaev captured the complex mixture of self-deprecating shyness and assertiveness that characterises Mozart's Don Ottavio before seducing everyone with the Indian Guest's tales from Rimsky-Korsakov's Sadko. Dante Alcala, meanwhile, was every inch the charming cad as the Duke in Verdi's Rigoletto, before turning to the darker sexual obsessions of Loris from Giordano's Fedora.

Elsewhere, however, the ideal combination proved elusive. Juan Carlos Valls and Woo Kyung Kim revealed thrilling voices without, as yet, much interpretative depth. Adrian Dwyer, however, had a fine way with words, though, lacked ideal beauty of tone. Kostatyn Andreyev belted out a stupendous top C in Che Gelida Manina but was otherwise rhythmically too wayward for comfort. A couple did themselves no favours by choosing the wrong music: Ronald Samm is no Otello, I'm afraid, nor should Dmitri Korchak be singing Nadir's stratospheric aria from Bizet.

 

 

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Opera Review of Ten Tenors Gala Concert

(Excerpts)

 Rosenblatt Recital Series at the Royal Festival Hall, November 2

'...Cura conducted with consideration for all his singers....When [he] stepped down to sing, he kicked off with 'Vesti la giuba'...and then reminded us at the end that Otello can breathe fire in 'Dio mi potevi scagliar'.  As an encore he conducted all nine tenors in a communal 'Viva il vino' from Cav....[T]his was a hugely enjoyable evening.'   Patrick O'Connor

 

 

Photos by Sandra Ott

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CURA-FEST, PART 3

KURIER

December 3, 2004

Kultur page 33

The José-Cura-Festival at the Vienna State Opera continues. After Verdi’s “Stiffelio” and Canio in Leoncavallo’s ‘Pagliacci’, the tenor is now singing the role of Andrea Chenier in Umberto Giordano’s opera by the same name. Cura refines/enriches this worn Otto Schenk production as well, because he acts with a degree of passion and devotion that we know from few other singers. To be sure, there are greater and more elegant voices- but in the totality of his presence (appearance and performance), Cura is excellent, first-class.

At his side: Georgina Lukács as Maddalena with great expression, more modest contact factor and strong tremolo; Lado Ataneli- noble and phrasing magnificently- as Carlo Gérard; and Elina Garanca as enchanting Bersi. Again, conductor Marco Armiliato turned out to be a Verismo specialist.

GeKo/translation by Monica B.

 

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Only Death Might Yet Be Better

Wiener Zeitung

December 4, 2004

Christoph Irrgeher/translation by Monica B.

Even if the aged ‘Andrea Chenier’ production of the Vienna State Opera bubbled over with the revolutionary verve of a homely early Victorian (Biedermeier) salon: At this reprise on Wednesday as well, one could yearn, suffer, sob—and applaud euphorically, all thanks to dynamic interpretation.

Sniff, is this beautiful or what! One minute, this effervescent hormone hydrant named José Cura serenades the marvels of poetry with tenorial ardor and heart rending top notes; the next, he is tossed and carted off to the scaffold as Andrea Chenier, protagonist of the Verismo hit by the same name. And after a deeply emotional duet, his beloved jumps on and joins him of her own free will--because on the other side of the tooth-baringly threatening blade of the Paris Guillotine, a new and better world is awaiting both of them.

To tell the truth: A death for love which is that consummately emotional is the only thing that could possibly be more alluring and beautiful than the sense of relish imparted by this reprise of Giordano’s tear jerker at the State Opera--in spite of the meter-thick layer of dust which by now weighs heavily on Otto Schenk’s museum-like cloak-and-dagger production that dates from 1981. But that proverbial dust isn’t just blown away –acoustically speaking- by the title hero alone: a spirited Marco Armiliato is in charge of an orchestra whose play is saber-rattling or squeezes the tear ducts—as desired.

One floor above, Lado Ataneli has no difficulty coming to grips with the role of the ringleader Gérard. In her brilliant timbre, Elina Garanca portrays the wet nurse Bersi with superior ease and outdoes her mistress noticeably. At her role debut, Georgina Lukács as a subversively love-sick Maddalena infatuates mostly only with the piano passages, although she does sing those with masterful delicacy. The rest of the ensemble is also absolutely respectable as they sing their way to an emotional catharsis- which is why there are lots of floral bouquets being tossed toward the stage at the end.

 

José Cura Terrific in Vienna Pag

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