By FT.com / September 19, 2005 02:52 AM

ANDREW CLARK

When the only available woman claims never to have been kissed, and then stops a mob from lynching the man she loves, you know you are in the land of operatic hokum. Yet Lafanciulla del West, Puccini's "American" opera, is scarcely more far-fetched than any other. What counts is the veracity of the character-archetypes and the drama quotient in the music. On that score Puccini knew what he was doing.

At least that was the impression left by Fanciulla at Covent Garden on Thursday night, the opening performance of London's opera season. In lesser hands it can indeed seem contrived. But the Royal Opera's production, first staged in 1977, is a classic - almost on a par with the Zeffirelli Tosca that has now inexplicably been dumped. It will be a long time before Fanciulla shares a similar fate, if only because it is not popular enough to withstand constant revivals: this was its first showing for 11 years.

Even without a starry cast, the show came across as good as new. In part that is a tribute to the flair and durability of Piero Faggioni's staging. But it is also a sign of an opera company firing on all cylinders. This is just as well: with English National Opera showing signs of recovery after three seasons of gloom, London's operatic landscape is again turning into a two-horse race. Covent Garden may have the money and the glamour, but at least on paper ENO has the artistic edge in its 2005-06 line-up.

ENO opened on Friday night with a world premiere of Gerald Barry's The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant (see review, right). The company has secured the services of film director Anthony Minghella (The English Patient) for a new Madam Butterfly in November. Later it will showcase Felicity Lott and Simon Keenlyside - singers you would expect to find at Covent Garden.

By contrast the Royal Opera seems to be drawing breath after the initial burst of energy fuelled by its workaholic music director, Antonio Pappano. At the halfway stage its Ring is mired in expense and stage clutter. There are some solid-looking revivals, plus a new Onegin with Dmitri Hvorostovsky and Rolando Villazon. But there is little sign of artistic "attitude", bar a US-style desire to keep the widest number of people happy.

Yet the most high-minded critic would find little to carp about in this Fanciulla. Based on David Belasco's play The Girl of the Golden West, the opera can disorientate those who pigeonhole Puccini as a purveyor of big tunes and tragedy. This is his only through-composed work: it avoids cues for applause, its harmonies are edging into the 20th century. The confrontation and catharsis that are Puccini's trademark wield their powerful wand - especially in a staging as focused as this. Even the most sentimental scenes, such as Minnie's Bible lesson, add to the patina of tough-and-soft, harsh-and-tender - the epitome of which is Minnie herself.

Andrea Gruber understands this: she captures the clever-and-naive, brave-and-vulnerable contradictions in the character in a way that makes her perfectly human. There may be lingering signs of Puccini's little-girl syndrome (Butterfly, Mimi, Liu) beneath the gutsy exterior, and you would scarcely call Gruber's soprano melting. But she doesn't screech, and she shows us where the real gold lies - in Minnie's heart.

In José Cura she has a Dick Johnson worth dying for. This is the best performance Cura has given in London: the selfish outlaw comes good with a voice that rings out handsomely without milking the notes, with a style of acting that never stoops to melodrama. Mark Delavan's Jack Rance is undercooked: not enough colour in the voice, not enough breadth to the character.

Thanks to Pappano's wonderfully idiomatic conducting, there is never any doubt that Fanciulla is as Italian as the soil of Lucca - despite Puccini's would-be Americanisms and the comic inter-jections of English and Indian speech. Far from playing up any brash Broadway undertones in the music, as I feared he might, Pappano lets his native genes take command: he knows exactly when to hold on to a note (after "Whisky per tutti" in Act 1, for example) and how to "place" the Act 2 climax. On this form, who would not bet on the Royal Opera maintaining pole position?

 

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La Fanciulla del West

4 stars Royal Opera House, London

Andrew Clements
Saturday September 17, 2005
 

Piero Faggioni's 1977 staging of Puccini's spaghetti western, La Fanciulla del West (The Girl of the Golden West) hasn't been seen at Covent Garden for 10 years, but it has remained fondly regarded for the sheer monumentality of its sets by James Bond movie designer Ken Adam.

Refurbished for this revival it is the operatic equivalent of a listed building, handsome to look at, but not quite the last word in modern amenities. And there is a price to pay for the sheer scale of the spectacle: even with the ROH's modern stage machinery, the sets still take an age to change, the performance lasts well over three and a half hours, and the dramatic momentum seeps away.

But in any case it's the sort of show where fine-grained, psychologically penetrating drama would be out of place, and there is little suggestion of subtlety in any of the performances. Puccini's characters are mostly stereotypes, and don't gain much depth from this production - the gold-rush miners who throng Minnie's bar in the first act, and who are determined to lynch Dick Johnson in the third, are cartoonish (surely the blacking-up of the roving minstrel might have been discreetly dropped?), while the principals aren't given much perspective either.

As Johnson, José Cura has all the requisite swagger and testosterone-packed tone, and sings his arias in an effective, stand-and-deliver way, while Mark Delavan makes Jack Rance into a genuinely troubled character, if not an especially imposing one. Andrea Gruber's Minnie is more of a disappointment; she certainly has the vocal resources, but little of the presence that puts flesh on the bare dramatic bones.

Yet the score is glorious, and its bright, high-definition orchestral sound suits Antonio Pappano's conducting perfectly. He can't do much about the dramatic slack in the first act, but the rest of the opera is taut and luminously well played, and the production itself is certainly a collector's item.

A gold nugget

REVIEW - LA FANCIULLA DEL WEST
COVENT GARDEN By HELEN LAWRENCE

 

PUCCINI'S wild west melodrama, La Fanciulla del West (based on David Belasco’s play, The Girl of the Golden West) is one of his most interesting works, exploring new directions and responding to the musical ferment of the early 20th century.

Without the sweeping melodies of some of his other operas it is less popular and has not been heard at Covent Garden for 11 years.

Piero Faggioni has returned to revive his splendid 1977 production in the magnificent sets by Kenneth Adam, the James Bond film designer. Set in the Californian Gold Rush, the story is a love triangle between a gun-toting, saloon bar proprietress who has never been kissed, the bandit who is saved by her love and repents, and his rival the Sherriff.

As the heroine Minnie, Andrea Gruber’s voice has all the notes but is not ideally focussed. A tremolo somewhat obscures pitch, especially in the important middle register which carries the burden of the role. However, she succeeds in portraying the character with sympathy. José Cura cuts a dash as the bandit Ramirez, with handsome appearance and burnished tone. Mark Delavan brought authentic American swagger to Jack Rance, the Sheriff, but was somewhat underpowered vocally.

The minor characters were all superbly drawn, with, among others, veterans Robert Lloyd, bringing authority and sonorous tone to Ashby the Wells Fargo agent, and Francis Egerton recreating his touching cameo as Nick.

The chorus (director Renato Balsadonna), play a vital part in the story and they are quite outstanding, both musically and in the teamwork of their highly skilled and responsive stage craft. A wonderful display of ensemble work at its finest.

Completing a most enjoyable performance, music director Antonio Pappano draws wonderfully warm and passionate playing of this rich score from the orchestra, which is in top form.

 

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La Fanciulla Del West, Royal Opera House, London

 

 

Gunfight at the ROH corral

By Edward Seckerson

Published: 19 September 2005

 

You wouldn't expect too much of an entrance from someone called Minnie, but, at the sound of gunshots, Puccini's "girl of the golden West" sweeps into the Polka Saloon to a thrilling deployment of one of the composer's most sumptuous tunes. This original spaghetti western is full of them. But there's only one Minnie - a woman alone in a world of men - and Puccini, that most natural of all musical dramatists, made certain that her entrance would be one we'd remember.

And yet La Fanciulla del West has always been the big sleeper among Puccini operas. It doesn't parade big numbers like the others in his canon but rather presents an integrated, through-composed musical melodrama of exciting richness and virtuosity. It's a company piece, full of tiny but telling cameo roles in a "cast of thousands". Perhaps for that reason, few have it in their repertoire. Even fewer can boast a production like this.

The Royal Opera has jealously hung on to it since 1977 when the designer Ken ("James Bond") Adams's gigantic, wide-screen, movie-ready sets first took our breath away. They still do. The Polka Saloon looks solid enough to have survived the Gold Rush itself. Never mind that the intervals are longer than at least one of the acts - sets like this weren't built (or rebuilt) for quick-change, but they were built to last.

The director Piero Faggioni has returned to brush up all the detail of his famous production. It's the kind of work that beautifully complements Puccini's brave attempts at all-out naturalism. In act one, especially, it's very filmic, very busy, very fluid.

In the pit Antonio Pappano and the Royal Opera Orchestra set down a magnificent soundtrack. The dynamic, sharply observant Pappano is as alive to the score's myriad intricacies as to its blockbusting melodramatics. And there can be no bigger compliment to the chorus and small-part principals that it is simply impossible to distinguish between them. They are as one ensemble.

So what of those "above the title" in the opening credits? Well, Andrea Gruber's Minnie is certainly robust. The American soprano looks and sounds like she could pack a six-shooter and break up a bar-brawl. But there is more to Minnie than first meets the eye and ear and Gruber doesn't give us a huge amount beyond strapping determination and big notes. And some of those are a little unruly above the stave - her laugh of triumph as she throws down the winning poker hand in act two might work better with the sound turned down - or off.

It's a paradox that an American soprano should lack the requisite Italian style for this piece. But it is a spaghetti western and I wanted more enticement and beauty from Gruber. I wasn't touched by her back-story in act one and only moved by the final scene because Puccini makes so damn sure of it.

As the wily sheriff Jack Rance, the American baritone Mark Delavan is physically and vocally pretty formidable. His moment of defeat in the crucial poker game is full of silent pent-up fury, though I've never really believed that he wouldn't see through Minnie's blatant cheating. It would take more than a couple of aces tucked under her garter to get one over on this lecher.

But the "prize", of course, is Dick Johnson, alias the bandit Ramerrez - and Jose Cura, looking as though he'd been built specifically for this role, is the best he has ever been. His animal magnetism counts for a lot here and, since the vocal requirements are all about swarthy, full-on, heroics, he was in his element, being resoundingly butch.

This is a smashing show, then. And Minnie does get her man - even if they walk, rather than ride, into the dawn, rather than into the sunset.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Seen and Heard Opera Review

Bill Kenny

Puccini, La Fanciulla del West, soloists, Chorus and Orchestra of the Royal Opera House, Antonio Pappano, Royal Opera, 1.10.2005 (BK)

Kenneth Adam's refurbished sets for Royal Opera's seventh revival of their 1977 production of La Fanciulla, wear very well after almost thirty years; they're elaborate, naturalistic and still take ages to change between the opera's three acts. Pietro Faggioni's direction, costumes and lighting plot feel quite fresh too, even though his reading is straightforward and fairly one-dimensional by today's reckoning. There's no tricksy deconstruction or multi-layered meaning here: this is a feel-good story about love and redemption.

Despite its lack of traditional show-stoppers, Puccini considered Fanciulla to be his new Bohème and recommended seeing it more than once to appreciate its subtleties. Thanks to Warner's DVD of the original ROH production (with Carol Neblett and Placido Domingo) that's much easier these days than it used to be, although comparisons between singers do become inevitable as a consequence. Domingo as Johnson / Ramerrez and Neblett (in her heyday then as Minnie ) were hard acts to follow and Nello Santi's conducting was very stylish too. After repeated playings of the disc though, it does turn out that Puccini was right: there's more to this score than first meets the ear.

So far as singing goes, no-one need worry much about the soloists in the current revival. José Cura might still not be Domingo (who could?) but he was in top form on Saturday, easily fulfilling the early promise that he showed in the 1990's. He looked the part, sounded splendidly manly and simpatico throughout the whole thing and had all the notes necessary even for Act III's ' Che'lla mi creda libero..' His early training as a baritone still shows through though, now and again (there's a depth to his lower register which is decidedly untenor-like occasionally) but if anything this simply added to his performance as Johnson: this was the kind of singing we go to Royal Opera to hear.

Andrea Gruber was in good fettle too, but always at her best when raising a fair head of steam. Hers is a big voice, easily robust enough to cope with the not-inconsiderable demands of her role and if there were faults in her characterisation, they were more to do with the direction which (with the best will in the world) no-one could say is over-burdened with subtlety. Ms Gruber's Minnie was feisty right enough, but she didn't switch easily into being head over heels in love.

Goodies and baddies, that's what we all want in opera, but Puccini and Belasco (his librettist) knew better. Yet if Johnson / Ramerrez is an honest chap who lapses and then repents, where does that leave Jack Rance, the firm but fair Sheriff smitten with Minnie? It's a difficult role dramatically - too bullying or sleazy and there's no contest for Minnie's affections - too kindly and he just ain't Heathcliffe enough, goldarnit. Marc Delavan (another big-voiced man) did everything that he could, but decided on rough, tough and a tad uncouth. He didn't get the girl of course, so settled for getting his man instead. Fine robust singing though.

It was gratifying to see two singers from the original production still holding their own wonderfully, Robert Lloyd as Ashby the Wells Fargo agent and Francis Egerton as Nick the Barkeep. Other fine sounds came from Jonathan Lemalu (Jake Wallace), Mark Stone (an imposing Sonora) and from former Young Artist, Grant Doyle (Bello). Anthony Pappano led his orchestra and chorus in performances that could hardly be bettered. This was a great night out all in all, so ' Whisky per Tutti' then.

 

 

 

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La Fanciulla del West

 

David Blewitt

Monday 19 September 2005

Piero Faggioni’s evocative staging of Puccini’s Wild West masterpiece is back after an absence of 11 years, with Bond movie designer Kenneth Adam’s elaborate settings handsomely refurbished. The Polka positively reeks of whisky, tobacco, sweat and tears, Minnie’s cabin is cosier than ever, while the wrinkles in the backcloth of mountains have been ironed out.

Two ROH stalwarts of the original 1977 production also return - Robert Lloyd as the Wells Fargo agent Ashby, and the indestructible Francis Egerton as Nick, whose delivery of Ve le giuro, sceriffo in Act III is heart-wrenching. Grant Doyle’s Bello, Adrian Clarke’s Sid and Robert Murray’s Harry are notable in support.

Inevitably, the main interest centres upon the three principals. Jack Rance disappoints, his over-parted baritone occluded in tone and weak in alt. The acting is polite. However, Andrea Gruber’s feisty Minnie is almost the genuine article. The voice may coarsen and spread under pressure, while she tends to play ‘girlish’, but she convinces completely as the object of the miners’ love.

As for José Cura, the role of Dick Johnson, alias the bandit Ramerrez, might have been written for him. He plays it to the hilt, his burnished, baritonal tenor shaping the vocal lines with a subtle regard for meaning and emotion. And he can’t half open up for the big moments like Ch’ella mi creda. Terrific stuff.

Antonio Pappano again disappoints. His brash and sentimentalised reading fails to realise the score’s architecture, while he sometimes overplays climaxes, thus drowning singers. Chorus and orchestra respond like thoroughbreds.

 

Opera Review

Fanciulla del west

Warwick Thompson

Piero Faggioni's 1974 production of La Fanciulla del west is something of a guilty pleasure.  You can't help but laugh at the terrible B-movie acting, cumbersome hyper-realistic sets and cheap melodramatic stage effects--but it's hard not to be swept along by all the campery.

Partly, this is because Puccini's score is so strong and the opera tells a rattling good yarn.  Minnie (Andrea Gruber) is a prim but brave woman who runs a saloon during the California gold rush.  She's horrified to learn that her lover, Dick Johnson (José Cura) is actually a bandit called Ramerrez, but in a thrilling climax to the piece, she still rushes in to try to rescue him from death at the scaffold.

Gruber can't seem to decide whether Minnie is a skittish young innocent or a tough-as-leather old spinster, so gives us an unlikely mixture of both.  With her hilarious silent-movie acting and  huge raw voice, the effect is rather wonderful in its own way.  Cura, meanwhile, adds smoldering Latin charisma and some thrilling top notes into the brew, while baritone Mark Delavan is full of authority as the sheriff who comes between them.  Add in Antonio Pappano's juicy conducting and the overall package is shamelessly good fun.

Ovations for the Argentinian

 Rachmaninov, lyricism and energy

15 December 2005

 Cura, crisp on the podium for the pianist virtuoso Albanese

  (excepts)

A work of vertical art, with drops of precious stones symbolizing notes on the staff and in a setting representing a scene from the river Po—this was the ‘City of Piacenza-Guiseppi Verdi’ prize, designed by Guilio Manfredi and presented in the Municipal Theater by mayor Robert Reggi to tenor and conductor José Cura.  The mayor, opening the evening by presenting Cura with the prize in recognition of the Argentine’s numerous artistic talents, may also have dropped a hint of a scoop:  the possibility of a future collaboration with the artist, though no name, date, or place of the production was offered.

L'orchestra della Fondazione Arturo Toscanini was conducted by Cura, employing the sort of “stage skill” that is perhaps more consistent (but this is a matter of personal taste) with his profession as singer rather than conductor, with such enjoyable extroversion that he earned ovations from the Piacenza audience.

Concerning the Rachmaninov piano concert….from this point of view, the determination and “hot blood” of José Cura were appropriate for the original spirit of the score.

Great energy was also present during the second half of the evening for the Sinfonia n. 2 in E minor op. 27 by the same composer.  Thanks to José Cura, the audience was able to experience sparkling conducting and the stage presence of a real and proper “personality.” The singer can boast, however, of a remarkable curriculum as a conductor, including a stint as principal guest conductor of the Sinfonia Varsovia and the release of several disks on the Cuibar Video Phono and Avie labels.  In Piacenza, where the maestro and pianist granted two encores, he received yet another confirmation (of his talent on the podium).

Four operas have all the ingredients, but one still falls

Premiere of OSUD by Leos Janacek and LE VILLI by Giacomo Puccini

 

Martin R Botz

Der Neue Merker

23 October 2005

 

Excerpts

The first musical drama written by the 25-year-old Puccini already clearly showed his melodic inventiveness and his unique orchestral voice. Of course, one finds hints of the natural style of Verismo, Puritani (in the aria of Guglielmo), even Tosca (the first aria of Anna). But the personal style of a genius quite clearly exists. The two-act work makes for a good hour [of entertainment].

The story corresponds roughly with that of Giselle. In the Black Forest, Roberto, who is engaged to Anna, travels to Mainz to claim a big inheritance.  Once there, he discovers   the "sweet" life and forgets his bride. She dies of a broken heart. When he finally returns, conscience-stricken, the Villis (spirits of brides who have died of abandonment and broken hearts) force him to dance to death.

In general, I enjoyed the direction of Karoline Gruber but what was missing from the staging was the dancing demise of the betrayer. The scenery, again by Johan Engels, was garish-colored and pseudo-folkloric. In the second act all becomes gray. The scenery: a coniferous forest intermingled with multiple images of a larger-than-life young man (who did not, however, look at all like Roberto).  In the opening of the opera, Guglielmo, deliciously played by Franz Grundheber, makes evident the hope and desperation of the father. Krassimira Stoyanova began with a wonderful aria “Se come voi.”  She created a touching mood with her pure and tender timbre and devoted singing.

José Cura is the unfaithful Roberto. He throws himself completely into his role – his strong presence makes itself felt even if he does not always sing "in accordance to the school." In his big second act aria “Ecco la casa,” he is simply great.

Ernst Dunshirn prepared the busy chorus for both pieces in exemplary fashion—high praise! Simone Young, already proven in Hamburg, showed mastery in the gradation of dynamism and volume, in the flow of the melody, in the nice accentuation and good support of the singer. The members of the Philharmonic Orchestra had an excellent evening.

The applause for both rare pieces, for the singers and the conductor, for choir and orchestra as well as the production team of Osud (boos for those of Le Villi, though to me not completely warranted) was very strong and prolonged.  If at all possible, plan to attend. 

 

Le Villi

Vienna Staatsoper

 

The interval….and then the Staatsoper was reduced to the level of municipal theater in a German province.  Not because of the musical quality: Simone Young conducted with some instinct, if occasional banality, and again the choir rehearsed by Ernst Dunshirn sang flawlessly.  And naturally the principle actors were different [from Osud].  Applauded wildly by the audience, José Cura (Roberto) sang the emotion-drenched music with bloom, Krassimira Stoyanova was miraculous as Anna, and Franz Grundheber managed to create the role of  Guglielmo in spite of the direction.  And with that we have arrived at the absolute low of the Staatsoper season.  Not because Karoline Grubers’ direction is overly provocative but because Karoline Grubers’ direction is neither particularly skillful nor  intelligent.  It is simply bad....

 

 

 

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Le Villi - Vienna

 

by Eduardo Benaroch
WIENER STAATSOPER - Viena 23 de Octubre de 2005 -

Puccini - LE VILLI - José Cura, Roberto; Krassimira Stoyanova, Anna; Franz Grundheber, Guglielmo. Conductor: Simone Young. Director: Karoline Gruber.
Orchestra and Chorus of the Vienna Opera.

 [….the evening ended] with the first opera of Puccini, a really interesting work. If the musical language contains many Wagnarian influences, there are also moments of great lyricism which already hint at the approach of the more mature Puccini.

The plot is a German fable, very rural and simple:  a young peasant falls in love with a nice young man.  When he leaves for a short business trip and is seduced while away, the mountain woman dies of sorrow and then reappears as a spirit to claim her husband.  Through all this, the father of the young woman is a good-natured man who ends up with a broken heart caused by the loss of his daughter.

It is an innocent work but one full of passion and of feeling and that's why the new production by Karoline Gruber caused so much frustration. 

Gruber decided to take a feminist approach and to use Anna, the protagonist, as her mouthpiece.  Anna is now a young woman who does not like domestic chores and who feels uncomfortable ironing or cooking or sweeping the flat.  Ah, does the reader wonder how we know this?   Because Gruber’s production plants us on the stage with a refrigerator, a washing machine and an ironing board. ...... all set in the middle of a rural scene of the 19^th century!   It is true that we are now being asked to use our imagination to see farther [than the composer intended] but this staging did not make sense.

Through the whole work we see poor Anna clumsily trying to satisfy the appetite of her husband—for food, not sex--without being able to do so or indeed even knowing how to do it.  And it is the young husband, Roberto, who with patience cooks and gets the beer....  

Where are those in the feminist movement to stop this type of triviality that does no good for anyone?

Also there is an unnecessary arbitrariness to Roberto's return to his home that goes beyond the license of the director.

What we are able to see through this jumble is the simple relationship between two young people who love each other and this love is total. But Gruber does not want to leave us alone with the music and the characters so Anna sings as Roberto eats,  enormous cuckoo clocks descend, and before departing for his trip, Roberto asks Anna to iron a shirt ...!

More artifice?  When Anna tells Roberto of her dark premonition he pulls a can of beer from the refrigerator.  During the orchestral interlude Gruber introduces all sorts of plot madness as Roberto returns his wedding ring to Anna. I do not have the desire to describe much more.

At least the singers were of good quality, especially Krassimira Stoyanova as a dreamy, frustrated young woman who was always convincing in spite of the obstacles created by the director.  Vocally, she is an excellent lyric soprano and made a very suitable match with the impetuous and manly Roberto of José Cura, who demonstrated virility and sweetness....

Cura has had excellent moments lately and his voice has become seamless between registers, the high notes sure; he has also become a convincing actor by keeping mannerisms to a minimum.

The final scene finds Anna sitting at a gray refrigerator (earlier it was brilliant blue) with the door opened but in this refrigerator there is no food but instead a black substance.  She finally attracts Roberto and hers father to the table in the remains of this colorless kitchen and the opera ends with three characters sitting at the table. Does this make sense?

Franz Grundheber completes the quality cast by singing a convincing Guglielmo, and though the tessitura does not set as well with him as other Verdian roles I have heard him in but he had little to do as an actor. 

The chorus sang well while wearing ridiculous blonde wings that must have been difficult to tolerate. 

Within this wasted opportunity, Simone Young conducted a skillful version of the score, underlining the drama that did not appear on stage, with the orchestra at least delivering the musical portion of the party.

 

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José Cura shines as Pagliaccio at the Deutsche Oper Berlin

F.A.Z

27 April 2005

by Eleonore Büning / translated by Martina

 

José Cura, who in addition to possessing an exquisitely controlled and big voice also has a breathtaking stage presence, shaped his "Vesti la giubba" with an intensity that went far beyond the usual macho-kitsch-sobbing caused by betrayal and jealousy, and lent to the character of Pagliaccio unexpected depth, significance, almost something "Faust-like".

 

 

Cura Shines in Opera Double Bill

Bloomberg

26 April 2005

April 26 (Bloomberg) -- José Cura and Peter Seiffert together on the same stage: this is as star-studded as a night at the opera in Berlin ever gets. The bankrupt capital's cultural budget seldom stretches to big-name singers. And it's rare to get a cast as excellent as that the Deutsche Oper has mustered for the double bill of ``Cavalleria Rusticana'' and ``Pagliacci.''

It's also not that common to find famous opera singers slumming it beneath bridges. U.K. stage director David Pountney's new production sets all the action between the concrete pylons of a half-finished freeway overpass. As a modern translation of what 1890s audiences perceived as sordid realism, it makes sense.

Pietro Mascagni's ``Cavalleria Rusticana'' (1890) is set in a Sicilian village, and Robert Innes Hopkin's 1950s sets and costumes find a suitable metaphor for the institutional degradation of idyllic rural settings. These villagers continue their ancient rituals regardless.

Life-sized icons of Mary and Jesus, complete with flickering electric candles, are carried over the concrete with earnest reverence. Why the statues are abandoned on the tarmac for the duration of the Easter service is unclear, but no matter. The effect is gloriously innocent kitsch.

Grappa and Elvis

Mama Lucia (the formidable Claire Powell) runs a grimy takeout stand under the bridge, a glow-in-the-dark Virgin next to the grappa bottle. As her good-for-nothing son, Seiffert is a dead ringer for Elvis: big hair, gold chains and all. Seiffert makes a high-voltage Turiddu, forceful and persuasively Italianate. This is fervent, faithful singing.

He is matched in vehemence by Georgina Lukacs, teetering on heels too high for her as spurned lover Santuzza, plausibly desperate. Turiddu has traded her in for the thinner model, Ulrike Helzel's cheaply provocative Lola, whose husband Alfio (good- natured Alberto Mastromarino) drives a three-wheel vegetable truck. The production abounds in such gags, all of which could have been omitted.

Pountney aims for gritty naturalism, yet is hampered by a chorus that stands around with stiff self-consciousness and a stage weighed down by clutter. In what should be a heart-stopping moment, Turiddu's bloody corpse is hoisted over the freeway rail and tumbles to the road below. But the ``corpse'' is so obviously a feather-light straw puppet, the act so unlikely and the execution so amateurish that the moment fails.

Scorching Notes

Ruggero Leoncavallo's ``Pagliacci'' (1892) opens with Tonio addressing the audience directly, explaining that this is a story from real life. Pountney takes this as his point of departure for a deliberately anti-realistic examination of the opera business, with its glamorous stars, eager public and obsessive fans. The pylons of the previous opera are twirled around by stagehands, intentionally unmasking the illusions of the stage.

Enter José Cura in a vintage Renault, playing himself, the celebrated opera star, transposed to the 1950s. As the jealous clown Canio, Cura delivers his top notes with lingering relish, moves suavely and glosses over details in the score. He is scorchingly intense in the dressing-room aria, and a smoldering presence the rest of the time. His Nedda, Nuccia Focile, is the consummate diva, immaculately tailored and grandly melodious.

Markus Bruck's Silvio conveys the most emotion. Pountney has cast him as a hideously gawky fan who wears sandals with socks and clutches a plastic bag. But Bruck's singing is so lyrical and refined, the nuances so expressive and the tone so beautiful, that we care more about him than about anybody else on the stage.

Choral Aerobics

The chorus sings with gestures more suited to a step-aerobics class or a primary-school play. At this point, Pountney's concept falls to bits. Canio dispatches Silvio and then does in Nedda for good measure. Neither murder shocks.

In his quest for an intellectualism presumably pitched at a German audience accustomed to theater directors' excesses, Pountney misses the emotion of the work without making any major cognitive contributions.

Conductor Ion Marin leads the evening with heavy-handed vigor, aiming more, it seems, for velocity than for accuracy or polish. The singers, in the end, steal the show.

The double bill of ``Cavalleria Rusticana'' and ``Pagliacci'' is in repertory at Deutsche Oper, Berlin, through June 24.

 

Inseparable Pair

 

"Cavalleria rusticana" and "Bajazzo" at the Deutsche Oper Berlin

 

Deutschlandfunk

24 April 2005

 

By Georg Friedrich Kühn / translated by Monica B

 

At this new production of Berlin’s Deutsche Oper, there are some first-class singers to be admired...

 

Above all, there is José Cura as Canio, also known as Pagliaccio (the clown), a tenor who isn’t just a shining presence vocally but also has excellent stage presence as an actor. One can argue about his characterization of Canio, who turns from the initially brutal macho who steps out of an old Citroën into a sobbing weakling on account of the unfaithfulness of his wife Nedda.

 

 

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Return to the Fountainhead: To the Sources of Passion

 

Sicilian*  twilight at the Deutsche Oper. “Cavalleria Rusticana” and “I Pagliacci”

 

Berlin Zeitung

25 April 2005

 

by Klaus Georg Koch / translation Monica B.

 

[…..]

 

After the intermission (about 30 minutes) with refreshments in the foyers, we get to see the second act, “I Pagliacci” by Ruggero Leoncavallo (1892). “Der Bajazzo”, as the work is called in German, is merely the carbon copy of “Cavalleria Rusticana”. Stage director Pountney points that out relentlessly, unsparingly. While his staging of “Cavalleria” still sparkles and bubbles over with fresh images and creative ideas, clichés stake a claim on  “I Pagliacci”. Leoncavallo’s troupe comes on stage as a gang of Mafiosi. The enormous segments of the overpass structure begin to swivel and turn. Pure, unadulterated theater.

 

José Cura sings the part of Canio. Just like Alfio, Canio finds himself cuckolded. His wife, too, loves another man. Cura breaks the rule whereby all those deceived, cheated, victimized must love Pasta Alla Norma. But he too roars all over the place. The evening belongs to those neurotic couples. There is something about his vocal organ that surpasses, transcends the average, run-of-the-mill power voice. The way he takes the passaggio from middle to upper register in his desperation aria is as hard and fast as Schumacher stepping on the gas pedal of his red Ferrari in a curve. Cura would be the singer for a really big role. His portrayal of the jealous Canio is intimation of that. We witness this world-class tenor disdainfully making short shrift of the text of his role. Passion has many chairs fly across the stage. Ion Marin, hair flying, puts fire under the orchestra. The sound comes from the pit energetically, high pressure style--a broad stream whose flow the conductor knows how to regulate with sensitivity. In the grip of passion, the instruments melt into one like the smelt in a red-hot furnace. At the end, the script has Canio stab his wife Nedda (soprano Nuccia Focile) together with her lover. We will see: in that respect the evening has a surprise in store for us.

 

[…..]

 

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Deutsche Oper Registers a Hit with Cura, Seiffert, and Pountney

 

Die Welt

26 April 2005

 

By Manuel Brug / translation: Monica B.

 

Only two tenors. But boy, some more tenors they are! One looks like he moves furniture for a living and sings accordingly: Peter Seiffert, Turiddu in “Cavalleria Rusticana”, is direct, straight forward, penetratingly powerful, loud and passionate. The other, José Cura, has his Canio be a feisty Mafioso behind sunglasses—a macho always on the jump, neurotic and plagued by self-doubts; his top notes piercing the lush orchestral sound now and then like a laser knife. At the conclusion of this sumptuously rich evening of joyful sound and strong singing, Seiffert and Cura take their bows at Berlin’s Deutsche Oper, embracing and laughing: Look here, it’s me!

 

Opera—the real thing. In this self-doubting, dogged city, it has been a long time since one has been able to enjoy it quite as much as tonight. Once again now, things have worked extremely well with these two short verismo operas by Mascagni and Leoncavallo, which are usually presented together.

 

[…..]

 

Now the second tenor goes looking for his author. And finds an unfaithful wife who defies him, portrayed by the vocally glistening Noccia Focile. She has the hots for a sandal-wearing nincompoop instead of her egocentric husband. The duet with the disarmingly shy and bashful Markus Brück seems the only genuine moment in this evening of shattered illusion.

 

[…..]

 

  

 

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Whose Sobs Are the Most Beautiful?

 

Duel of the tenor giants: Peter Seiffert and José Cura at the Deutsche Oper in Berlin

 

Der Tagespiegel

25 April 2005

 

By Frederik Hanssen / translation: Monica B.

 

 

For the final curtain call, they came out onto the stage arm in arm: Peter Seiffert took his hand and ran it across the white make-up on José Cura’s cheek, then proceeded to paint the markings of a clown on his own face. Two of the world’s best tenors together on the same stage—that’s just like a final match between Germany and Argentina for the world championship. Different from soccer, however, is that in the opera, a duel of the giants is only possible in two successive finals. That’s the case here, for example, with the verismo double header “Cavalleria Rusticana” and “I Pagliacci” on the program. Both one act operas sport signature roles for tenors; in both, the topic is love, honor and jealousy in Southern Italy: under those circumstances, men turn into animals. In the new staging at the Deutsche Oper, Peter Seiffert’s Turiddu falls victim to the knife of the cuckolded Alfio, while José Cura’s Pagliaccio stabs not only his wife but also her lover to death. Parallel to the action on stage, the two male divas play out a duel--in successive time frames. The matter in dispute is quite bloodless: who sobs most beautifully, laments most loudly, and can sustain his top note the longest.

 

It is a fair contest because both singers are at the height of their game just now: Seiffert has the added bonus of the local matador, the hometown favorite, because he sang his way into the tenoral major league while he was a member of the Deutsche Oper ensemble from Tamino up to Lohengrin. And he makes a show of putting it out there, heaves the sound of his notes into the auditorium with the ease of a vocal heavyweight. Blow him away, Italian style! Immense jubilation. Halftime. Then it is José Cura’s turn--and he scores before he even opens his mouth. While the designer, Robert Innes Hopkins, forces the German into a gaudy showman’s Elvis costume, the Argentine-a cool, cigarillo smoking macho-is allowed to taxi onto the stage in a shiny black old-timer. Just like his South American soccer buddies, he starts to work magic immediately and moves around (hops, skips and jumps) that it's a joy to watch. From shrill laughter, he plunges into tears and lamentation, pulls himself up to soar with a tearjerker of a melody, and then tops that with-how could you miss it?-a brilliant, daringly sustained ‘firecracker’ of a high note. Bravo, Don José.

 

That must have been what the singers’ wars were like back then, around 1890, at the time when Mascagni and Leoncavallo brought out their short operas. When the word “staging” still had a totally different meaning. They were sporting events of highest entertainment value, joy fests for voice freaks. Small wonder that staging director David Pountney got hit with boos on Saturday night. He has put himself in the position of sitting between all chairs: the traditionalists find his view of these works too modern; the progressives much too conventional.

 

[…..]

 

By the way, as far as the power play Seiffert-Cura is concerned: It is sad to say, the fun will be short-lived. They are slated to face each other four more times still: on April 27 and May 1, 5 and 8. Then in June already, the Argentine will be replaced with Janez Lotric from the minors.

 

 

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Miracle Voice - Powerful Presence 

 

Leipziger Volkszeltung

April 2005

 

 

Tobias Wolff/translation: Monica B.

 

 

[…..]

 

Musically, the evening was not defined by (Ion) Marin but a divine team of singers: José Cura as Canio, a marvel of a voice with tremendous stage presence, who even in his aria did not go for a narcissistic vocal portrayal but integrated it –fast paced-completely into the action on stage. [….]

 

 

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Der Bajazzo Dazzles in Berlin

 

 

 

 

 

German Opera Berlin: “Cavalleria Rusticana” and “I Pagliacci”

 

Kulturradio

 

Kai Luehrs-Kaiser/ translation: Monica B.

2 May 2005

 

[…..]

 

This prominently staffed double premiere brings together two of the most famous tenors in the world today. José Cura is probably the best Pagliaccio at present. On the one hand, one cannot endorse or confirm the clichés that herald Cura as a ‘testosterone bombardero’ or worse, as the singing Argentinean bull; on the other hand, nuances are not his cup of tea. With the volume turned way up, he storms toward his goal, and produces tearful gargling sounds (during the famous ‘Ridi, Pagliaccio…’); his is a tenoral clean sweep even on an evening where he is actually holding back. Tenor show-offs may not be the last word of wisdom on this subject or the ideal solution. But they aren’t a bad match for the role of the raving mad clown.

 

[…..]

 

Kai Luehrs-Kaiser/ translation: Monica B.

 

 

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Das Opernglas (June 2005, pp. 9-12)

 [...] As far as the production itself is concerned, one might have left the theater after the first part of the premiere [i.e. Cavalleria Rusticana] without any regrets. […]. However, this would have been a grave mistake, since Pagliacci – like Cavalleria – was superbly sung. And as if the Deutsche Oper Berlin were able to draw on star singers on end, yet another star tenor, José Cura, was engaged – and that in one of his best and most critically acclaimed roles. In addition to the sensual, unmistakable color of his voice, the sheer power of his delivery, and his radiant top notes, Cura once again impressed with the absolute ease of his vocal performance. It is a shame that this gifted actor was not really challenged in this production. His first entrance alone – sporting a mafioso outfit, complete with a cigar – was “Hollywood”-like. […] Ovations for the singers in the end, for Seiffert and Cura in particular; boos for the production team.

(U. Ehrensberger)

  

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Der Neue Merker (May 2005, pp. 53-54)

[...] Now what about the second tenor of the evening? José Cura does not only possess a phenomenal voice, he is also a media star (he may even have inspired director Pountney to this production). His first appearance on a Berlin stage was expected with great anticipation – and as is fit for a true star he enters the stage in style at the beginning of Pagliacci: in a black limousine – an elegant Beau who hurls out his greeting powerfully, while constantly attacking Tonio and maltreating his wife. He displays so much superiority that his despair later on seems surprising. But the way he expresses these feelings vocally is absolutely terrific. He used his warm-timbred voice, which can also shine on high notes, to great effect, particularly on the second night. Unfortunately he is singing no more than four nights in Berlin, and we will not hear him again before the fall of 2006 – hopefully in a better production then.

(Käthe Wegler-Heinze)

 

 

 

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Pagliacci in Berlin

Opera

Barry Emslie

 For [Director David] Pountney, Pagliacci is clearly a mesh of discourses where theatrical imagination and mundane reality flood into each other.  Even Leoncavallo’s title (that is the Italian plural – the singular German Der Bajazzo should be ditched) implies that the world of the theatre is not to be unproblematically limited either to Canio or even to the troupe as a whole.  In fact, from the moment Tonio introduces us to the drama, a solo which was not there in the first version and which succeeds in placing yet another frame on the receding reflections of plays within plays, it is only intellectual laziness that allows us to imagine that everything is unambiguous as to what is show and what is real.  Whatever Pountney is, he is definitely not intellectually lazy.  Here, employing a short work seldom admired for its depth, he has produced an intriguing and highly complex encounter between the imaginative world and what verismo as the theatrical concept might mean with respect to both that world and ‘real life’.  And this has all been accomplished without apparently interfering with a note of the score or a line (well, perhaps with one exception – see below) of the text.

But inevitably there has been a violation and deepening of the traditional characterizations.  The key figure is Silvio (Markus Bruck).  Although linked to the troupe, he has no actorly place in it.  In Pountney’s (re-) reading he is Nedda’s groupie, but so absolutely devoted to the diva that he is fixated on the theatrical image (that picture on the advertising poster) rather than the actor/woman.  He is thus the only unambivalent character in the work, the only one who – like many opera fans, actually – is so uncoupled from real life that he is unaware of the deeper contradictions of the theatre-world where he otherwise finds refuge.  As a result he is the one who is sacrificed at the end.

One of the principal pay-offs of this extraordinary interpretation is that the pain felt by characters aware of the dislocations of their ‘operatic’ worlds was unusually present on the stage.  Of course suffering has always been the defining quality ascribed to Canio, and here it was amazingly well realized by José Cura.  At first the voice sounded a little threadbare, but that soon disappeared and ‘Vesti la guibba’, central in every way to this production, was unusually brisk threnody sculpted by floods of secure, burnished sound.  But chief among Cura’s achievements was his ability to keep so much of the pain before us as he and Nedda negotiated the final burlesque.  In this Nuccia Focile’s fine physical and vocal acting was critical in that matters were never reduced to the simple trick of ‘real singer Nedda’ and ‘character Colombina’.  The emotional range of these figures, at least under Pountney’s direction, made such reductions impossible.  At the end, as the hopelessly unknowing Silvio had his throat cut, the famous question as to whom the last bitter line truly belongs was resolved by Pountney in the only appropriate manner – ambivalently.  Tonio began it then Canio interrupted him and finished it.

 

 

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Piacenza

 

José Cura Brings the House Down!

The Met's Samson Win Raves in Overseas Press

'Cura is not only an extraordinary vocalist but thanks to his experience as a conductor and a universal musician, he's a rare example of a thinking tenor.'

Written by Roman Markowicz. Translated by Iwona Pomes.

The mezzo-soprano Malgorzata Walewska has become another Polish artist who has had the privilege of performing at the Metropolitan Opera. This wasn't an ordinary debut, either--it was a leading role in Saint-Saëns’ Samson et Dalila. Unfortunately, it turned out to be Mrs Walewska's one and only performance in the US this season. She replaced Denyce Graves, who sang the role of Dalila in all other performances. The entire production was originally prepared in 1997-98 by Elijah Moshinsky, a favorite of Met's management. I'll talk about the production later. It seems Mrs. Walewska had limited chance to rehearse, though she might not have needed much, since she has sung the role of Dalila in European opera houses. Those listeners who don't know Samson et Dalila note by note might have thought that the conductor, Bertrand de Billy, didn't have any problems bringing the orchestra into the line with her concept. The famous Argentinean tenor José Cura was Walewska's vocal partner. He not only has a strong, sonorous, black-coloured voice, but he's built well enough to kill Philistines convincingly.  Nobody could doubt the sexual chemistry between the leading characters.

Walewska's mezzo-soprano sounded attractive, though it's not as strong as that of Denyce Graves or Marilyn Home or Fiorenza Cosotto. Sometimes I felt there was an insufficiency in the lower register. Comparing Walewska with Borodina (a famous Dalila) I would say that the Russian was like coffee with cream and the Pole more like coffee with fat-free milk.

But I don't want my readers to think this performance was anything less than a spectacular success. Mrs. Walewska was well prepared and convincing.  The entire second act was devoted to Dalila. Her famous aria “Mon coeur s'ouvre a ta voix” was so tempting that one could hardly think how Samson could resist Dalila's charms! An ovation was evidence of the audience's approval. What's more, Mrs. Walewska looked very sexy in her blue dress. Undoubtedly, the presence of some American opera houses directors in the audience was not accidental—it seems she will perform in America again soon.

Along with the baritone Mariusz Kwiecień and soprano Aleksandra Kurzak, Walewska continues a positive trend of representing Polish singers at the Met.

However, Samson is a real hero of this opera and José Cura was the main attraction in these performances. His Samson is a charismatic Israelite leader, a warrior as well as Dalila's former lover. The beginning of Act III was the most dramatic, impressive and convincing moment of this staging. The captured, betrayed, shorn and blinded Samson turns the millstone, shackled to it. Effective lights illuminate the tragic leader who betrayed his nation because of his love for Dalila. Samson asked God to save the Israelites and to punish only him. His aria “Vois ma misere, helas!” was one of the strongest moments in the opera. Cura is not only an extraordinary vocalist but thanks to his experience as a conductor and a universal musician, he's a rare example of a thinking tenor. That's something!

 

Back to the staging, it makes me feel uncertain about the level of its stage management, scenery and costumes, etc. They were absurd! According to Moshinsky's vision, the Israelites looked like characters from “Fiddler on the Roof.”  The Philistines resembled a gang of wild and uncouth African ape men carrying spears. It wasn't astonishing—it was embarrassing and ridiculous. Their Priest was carried to the stage on something that reminded me of a pseudo-raft. Three conical objects--probably meant to be trees--were the only decoration on stage during Act II, each stamped with branches that looked like a bigger version of a male beard usually seen on TV commercials. Disgusting!

The famous bacchanalia in Act III was the most tasteless of all. I don't know if Saint-Saëns was forced by French operatic conventions to put a ballet scene filled with frivolous, importunate and oriental motives. It looked like an orgy. Dancers simulated different ways of copulation. Perhaps due to my lack of imagination, I couldn't find any logic and cohesion of the dance with Samson's tragedy. Finally, due to composer's miscalculation the final scene lasted only a couple of seconds. Overall, I wouldn't have lost anything if I saw “Samson et Dalila” in concert version.

Bravo Cura and Walewska!

I'll tell you one thing more. My goal was to congratulate Mrs. Walewska in person backstage. For those who don't know, not everyone can get backstage at the Met for security reasons. Although I was on the list of people allowed to go back, my wife wasn't. The guard refused to let her in. He asked me to choose between the pleasure of being accompanied by my wife and congratulating Walewska. I decided to stay with my spouse. At the same time I realized that if anyone attacked NYC again, the cloakrooms at the Met would be the safest place in town. There's no way for a terrorist to attack Metropolitan Opera if his or her surname is not on the guest list...

Roman Markowicz is from New York City.     

 

Samson et Dalila

Opera News, 2/21/05

John W Freeman

 

Camille Saint-Saëns, who used to visit North Africa to savor its culture in depth, would have had trouble recognizing it in designer Richard Hudson and stage director Elijah Moshinsky’s 1997–98 Samson et Dalila, which returned to the Met stage on February 21. The only regular success among the French master’s dozen operas, Samson, first staged in 1877, set the tone for a spell of exoticism in turn-of-the-century opera, following the lead of Aida and Goldmark’s once popular Die Königin von Saba, offering hints for Massenet’s Thaïs, Strauss’s Salome, Rabaud’s Marouf and Schoenberg’s Moses und Aron. Moshinsky and choreographer Graeme Murphy tried to save Samson from its reputation for stodginess by layering on Las Vegas glitz, though the second scene of Act I profits from low-budget understatement. The current staging is supervised by Peter McClintock.

The performance was well rehearsed, and everyone onstage worked hard, especially the energetic dancers in the Act III bacchanal, a pseudo-sub-Saharan nightclub orgy quite alien to the Philistines of the Bible, a Mediterranean people. What Samson needs for sure is a pair of strong protagonists, and it had them: José Cura, returning to the Met for the first time in five years, and Denyce Graves, an old hand from the creation of the present production. Another pillar of strength was Bertrand de Billy on the podium, giving the reverent, grieving, oratorio-like choral pages of Act I the breadth they needed while keeping the texture open, bringing out the coloristic perfume of Act II, the stimulus of the bacchanal and the buildup of dramatic tension in all three acts. The orchestra responded with grace to Saint-Saëns’s clear, elegant scoring.

To his first Met Samson, Cura brought a portrayal in which spontaneous vocalism was tempered with earnest depth, both in the hero’s devout faith and in the conflict he suffered because of his weakness for Dalila. Given the physique du rôle and a voice of heroic strength, the Argentinian tenor could encompass both rueful piety and volcanic resources of energy. With his direct manner and unruly, almost experimental technique, Cura is an exciting singer who breathes both life and thought into a character. He immersed himself in the role, putting to expressive use the arresting rough edges of his full-throated sound. In Act I, he acted and sang with restraint before rising to eloquence as he exhorted his people. Faced with Dalila, he wrestled his inner demons, emotional turmoil revving like a dramatic engine. In Act III, only sincerity and fervor saved him from hamming it up as he played out Samson’s despair in defeat. When he rose at the last moment to find himself again, the resurgence of his strength was palpable.

Saint-Saëns seems to have had the legendary Pauline Viardot in mind as model for Dalila, and his vocal writing is full of register jumps within the contours of a phrase. In her years with the role, Graves has managed to etch her diction a little more sharply even while her voice, officially a mezzo-soprano, has deepened in contralto hue and richness. She looks splendid in the part, and in Scene 2 of Act I she joined the dancers in sinuous movement. (As if in tribute to the Christo gates then on view in Central Park, the girls wore flowing saffron-colored shifts.) Treading deliberately at first, Graves hit her stride in Act II, putting Dalila’s intent and skill to work on Samson so that an immovable force seemed to be meeting an irresistible object. She sang “Mon coeur s’ouvre à ta voix” recumbent on the floor, while Samson replied flat on his back — not the easiest feat for either of them, but most effective. Only in Act III, where Dalila’s lines suddenly lunge into the stratosphere, did her composure briefly falter.

Samson, like Gounod’s Roméo et Juliette, is a two-star event, yet the minor roles are major. Bass-baritone James Courtney proved this with his short but commanding stint as Abimélech, the haughty satrap whose taunts get him killed in the first scene. In the heftier, more pivotal role of the High Priest, baritone Jean-Philippe Lafont was announced as suffering from a cold, which held him back, vocally but not dramatically, from goading Dalila to do her worst with Samson. A still, strong voice of conscience and reason came from bass Vitalij Kowaljow as the Old Hebrew. Despite the B-movie ambience of this production, the conviction and high competence of the current revival made a hearteningly strong case for Saint-Saëns’s period piece.