Andrea Chénier

Music Web International

Göran Forsling

This is not the only DVD version of what nowadays seems to be the only surviving Giordano opera – there is at least one with Domingo and Tomova-Sintow, which I haven’t seen, apart from a couple of snippets on a Domingo portrait DVD. In sound only format I have long treasured a Decca recording from the 1950s under Gavazzeni, more for Tebaldi’s deeply-felt Maddalena and Bastianini’s gloriously sung Carlo Gérard than for Mario Del Monaco’s unquestionably thrilling but stentorian Chenier. The best version – and I haven’t forgotten the Pavarotti/Caballé effort on a more modern Decca – is for my money the Levine RCA set from the 1970s with the glorious trio Domingo-Scotto-Milnes audibly inspired and involved.
 
The Chenier on this new set, filmed as recently as at the beginning of this year, José Cura, reminds me of Domingo, not only for his looks and natural stage appearance but also for the whole-hearted identification and the generous outpouring of golden tone. Domingo functioned as a mentor for Cura in the beginning of his career and was the conductor for what I believe was Cura’s debut recording, a thrilling Erato disc comprising every tenor aria Puccini ever wrote. Passion was a keyword for that disc and passion is what he emits in this role from the very first appearance, with a glowing Un di all’azzurro spazio. He sings the furious Si fu soldato in the trial scene (act III) with no safety net. The sad Come un bel di di maggio in the last act is begun almost as a dream, lightly sung with some embellishments to the line before he opens out to a heartfelt, glorious climax, greeted with ovations from the audience. By his side, just as in the La Scala Manon Lescaut, he has the charming, expressive, warm Maria Guleghina, whose vibrant voice is a perfect foil for Cura’s impassioned Chenier. She sings a deeply felt La mamma morta in act III, almost in the Tebaldi mould and both singers rise to ecstatic heights in the final scene. Carlo Guelfi as Carlo Gérard may pale a bit beside these two volcanoes but his is still an authoritative portrait of the servant-turned-revolutionary leader. Although a somewhat stiff actor he delivers an intensely captivating Nemico della patria in the third act. He also has the looks for the character, who seems to be a forerunner to Scarpia but with a heart.
 
Costumes and sets are period, all the nobles white-powdered and made-up, lending a feeling of authenticity to the proceedings. Some of the sets are more symbolic, especially the giant bars that are lowered when the death sentence of Chenier is being pronounced at the end of act III and which remains as the only prop – maybe it could be entitled front-drop – during the short final act.
 
There are several good actors and singers in the long list of secondary roles. There’s a lively Bersi, a powerful Roucher, an impressive Mathieu and a strong Madelon standing out. Carlo Rizzi draws impassioned playing from the orchestra and paces the drama convincingly. Not being musically on a par with Puccini’s contemporaneous creations this work has to rely even more on conviction from the performers. This rendering managed to get a firm hold on at least this viewer. The well-known set pieces naturally stand out from the surrounding music where some local colour is provided by the quotations from the Marseillaise.
 
With such obviously involved and visually engaging singing actors, the video director Paola Longobardo has wisely chosen to present many of the key moments in close-up, thus bringing the viewer palpably into the action. Sound and pictures are state-of-the-art and with 44 cue-points it is easy to pick and choose among one’s favourite moments. While I am not going to separate from the Gavazzeni and Levine sets, the present one will occupy a place of honour alongside the oldies and with the added visual impact it may often in the future be a first choice.

 

 

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Otello in Barcelona

 

 

Cura es Otelo


JAVIER PÉREZ SENZ

EL PAÍS  -  Espectáculos - 11-02-2006

To speak of Otello is to speak of voice. José Cura has the vocal coloring, the power and strength, but above all the dramatic temperament that this colossal Verdi character demands. His best weapon, over and above technique and style, is his stage presence. In his visceral interpretation, the Argentine tenor strips the character of all nobility and puts himself into his skin and tortured psychology in such a way that he fills the stage and tirelessly maintains the dramatic tension until the anguished finale. Cura is Otello. It’s as simple as that.

His was not the only triumph.  At his side the Bulgarian soprano Krassimira Stoyanova captivated with her sensational Desdemona.  Hers is a lyrical voice of great beauty, with sufficient volume used with taste and transmitted with both sweetness and firmness.  From the most delicate song through the most agitated, from the loving yearning of the first duet to the chill of death in the voice, Cura and Stoyanova communicated the feelings of their characters with great dramatic veracity.  Vocally, the Georgian baritone Lade Atanelli shone but his interpretation of the evil Iago did not work.  Wonderful performances by the Italian tenor Vittoria Gigolo, a Casio with a voice of great quality, and the Georgian mezzo soprano Ketevan Kemoklidze as Emilia.

Attentive and efficient in control of the dynamics, Antoni Ros Marbà directed Otello with more attention to the balance of the orchestra than to details of the dramatic tension.  The chorus did what they could, confined to a narrow space that did not favor the expansion of voices.

Willy Decker designed an exhausting and claustrophobic production, in which everything is sacrificed in service to a psychoanalytical reading of the drama, somewhat pedant in its eagerness for scenic purification: a unique staging, empty and steeply inclined with an omnipresent gigantic white cross. 

 

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Moros y cristianos en el Liceu

ROGER ALIER - 11/02/2006

The Liceu has done nice work in presenting ‘Otello’, vocally the most demanding opera of the mature Verdi, with one of the best teams possible at present. To start with, there is José Cura in the leading role, a role in which he succeeds Maestro Placido Domingo. If he couldn’t make us forget him, at least the level of his performance was excellent, as much in the vocal as in the dramatic sphere. Cura proved himself an excellent actor on stage, which, in this Shakespearean drama, is much to be thankful for. His powerful voice, moments of intensity and sense for the dramatic made for a role of great vibrancy.

 Another gem in the production is the magnificent Bulgarian soprano Krassimira Stoyanova.  Her portrayal of Desdemona was luxuriant, not only in the musicality and elegance of her phrasing but in her pure vocal timber and its capacity to transmit the humanity of the character to us; she was even able to make the tedious “Canción del sauce” fascinating, closing with an “Ave Maria” that richly deserved the ovation.

 […]

 But to narrate the story in an empty square, already a passé fashion, was poorly and insipidly done:  Desdemona dies not in bed, but across the wooden cross that was the torment of the staging:  brandished by Otello and Iago as weapons, thrown to the floor - - with the corresponding noise - - and broken in two by Otello himself (symbolizing his rejection of the Christian faith.)  The characters must sit on the ground: there is very little Shakespearean about it at all.

 But in short, we have seen worse things and also without furniture (Lucrezia Borgia, Don Carlo, and so on) and we will see more as long as the dictatorship of the present sort of artist prevails.

 

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Espectáculos

 

An Otello to Enjoy

 Gonzalo Alonso

Excerpts

Otello, by Giuseppe Verdi. Interpreters: J.Cura, L.Ataneli, K.Stoyanova, V.Grigolo, V.Esteve, G.Giuseppini, F.Santiago, K.Kemoklidze, etc. W.Decker, director. A.Ros Marbá, conductor. Production from del Gran Teatro de Geneva. Teatro del Liceo. Barcelona, IX-2-2006

 

The great Verdi opera, the favorite of music lovers if not musicians (for them it is ‘Falstaff’), has returned with a cast of singers that can perhaps be matched but not surpassed at this time. The truth is that at the Liceu, they know how to do this really well: from the three main characters to the last supporting one, they maintain a level of quality worthy of praise. José Cura can be a real ham--and he is--and he can blur some characters, but nowadays, there is simply no one else who knows how to make so much out of the Venetian Moor. He sustains the character vocally and dramatically without having to resort to baring his chest, because there is a much more athletic Cassio for that.

 He was stunning in an impressive ‘Esultate!’. He glossed over a few notes in the love duet in order to make it more accessible, but he was irreproachable in the duets with Iago and Desdemona as well as in his two great solo scenes. It is a pleasure to be able to listen to an Otello like that, one who doesn’t make the spectator suffer in the least, when there have been outstanding Otellos who have had difficulties in the second and third acts.

Lado Altaneli possesses one of the better baritone voices at this time but he does not enter into the character of Iago, walking through scenes without developing it and finishing as if he had made no great effort. Krassimira Stoyanova dominates the part of Desdemona, among others things because she had taken not of how Mirella Frena song the role.  The voice is pretty and sufficient….

 

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José Cura, Lado Ataneli y Krassimira Stoyanova in Verdi's Otello at the Liceu  

 Joaquín Fachado

Eighteen years after its last staging, Otello, if not the most popular than surely one of the most complete operas of the ‘farmer of Roncole,’ as Verdi called himself, returns to the Barcelona theater.

For such a demanding work, the Liceu managed to bring together a truly luxurious cast, including the first rate José Cura and Lado Ataneli in the main roles.  Nevertheless, based on listening alone—because there was so little to see—the great winner of the night was the Bulgarian soprano Krassimira Stoyanova, who managed to vocally outshine her co-stars by virtue of her lyrical singing…Incomprehensibly—probably due to exhaustion—she developed a light and uncomfortable vibrato during Ave Maria.  A true pity. 

In the title role, José Cura demonstrated that he is currently one of the best interpreters of Otello on the international stage. He relied on his middle voice and pianissimos, leaving for specific moments the vocal generosity required by the role.  He is prone to use vocal excess to disguise the fact that the singing line is not properly projected in some passages.  In spite of that, and thanks to his charisma and great theatrical gifts, Cura offered an exciting Otello.

Coming from Brussels and Geneva, the production by Willy Decker deserves a chapter aside.  Just as we indicated previously, we listened more than we saw, because the opera is set on a completely deserted stage, with the exception of only two decorative elements (a great multipurpose wood cross that even served as the deathbed for Desdémona,  and a gigantic mirror) and with the characters placed between four walls. For even greater glory, the floor of the stage was sloped. Simply lamentable.

Before such narrowness and difficulty, the Chorus of the Liceu did what good they could do, as did all the singers who were so little added from the pit, where Maestro Ros Marbrá seemed more occupied with the musicians than the lingers, with a noticeable disconnect between the voices and the orchestra, primarily in the first act.  Fortunately, the only interval served to clarify concepts and from the third act the musical direction obviously improved.

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Otello at the Liceu, a Memorable Evening

Concert Classic

18 Feb 2006

 

François Lesueur

 

After Andrei Serban’s pointless ramblings and wild imaginings on the stage in Paris, it is nice to be able to savor a show that is successful in visual terms and coherent in its dramatic composition. Sticking to a single set, Decker and his set designer John Macfarlane enclose the action within a box, its walls red and its floor severely tilted, which is enough to make for an oppressive atmosphere and to render the slightest movement awkward and uncomfortable. Even the trees, whose branches ought to offer reassurance or soothing shade, strike poses that frighten and can in no way be taken to presage anything happy about that island. In this Venice, an artificial and arbitrary recreation on Cyprus, the stage director has retained only stereotyped images, which are all straight out of the carnival-like paintings of Tiepolo and in which the cheerful mood is deceptive, true feelings being masked.

 

In this hostile environment, Otello is no longer merely a hero of great appeal, respected as much as feared. Affected by an unknown ailment that weakens him, he suffers physically before he is put to the test psychologically and morally. It doesn’t take Iago long to perceive this, and he proceeds to take advantage of Otello’s vulnerability in order to bring about his downfall all the better. The Moor, wasted thus by illness, is an easy prey that is going to be brought to a tragic end by the doubt and jealousy instilled in him by this deceitful Iago. The mental destruction to which Otello falls victim is, therefore, irremediably linked to his physical decline. In the person of José Cura, Willy Decker has a truly first-rate artist at his disposal to portray this complex being that is under fire every which way. The tenor, at his peak in terms of his voice as well as his expressiveness, lives the role, and the way in which he takes over and fills the space (on stage) is exceptional. His metallic timbre with its burnished sparkle, his projection and the intensity of his accentuation are ideally suited to his character, with whom he seems to have become identified ever since he took on the role in 1997.

 

Of sensual charm and animal magnetism in the love duet, the actor later gives free reign to his uncertainties and to his pain in terrible epileptic fits, where he whimpers, moans, groans and twists down on the ground with confounding realism. Praying, uttering blasphemies, and clinging to a simple, omnipresent wooden cross that is like a fallen crucifix, Otello has come back to Cyprus to suffer, to humiliate and degrade himself, and to die under sinister Iago’s gaze of satisfaction and approval. Whatever admiration one has for Cura’s vocal stamina, good looks and naturalness, it is impossible to resist his commitment and his emotional investment, which gives rise to such a deeply felt performance. Galvanized by his presence, the Bulgarian soprano Krassimira Stoyanova, giving her debut at the Liceu, is a remarkable Desdemona. With her natural sensitivity and sweetness, she is marvelous in espousing the portrait of a woman of cruel fate who is made to die in spite of the purity of her sentiments. An accomplished musician, this singer possesses a voice of rich and subtly colored timbre, which soars above the ensembles and triumphs in a Willow Song that is as disconcerting as it is moving.

 

Lado Ataneli obviously knows his Iago down to his fingertips, giving us a solid and detailed interpretation, which is reassuring as far as the future of Verdian baritones is concerned. Vittorio Grigolo’s youthful and very physical Cassio, Vicenc Esteve Madrid’s honest Rodrigo, Giorgio Giuseppini’s elegant Lodovico and Ketevan Kemoklidze’s striking Emilia complete this choice roster. Lastly, the superlative conducting of Antoni Ros-Marbá at the helm of the Symphonic Orchestra of the Liceu is an additional asset:  overall balance, sharp tempi, and precise contrasts ensure relevance of purpose and work together to make the precipitation of the tragedy, which moves along as if on the wings of one breath, even more irrevocable. A memorable evening.

 

Francois Lesueur

Translation: M.B.

 

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BARCELONA – Otello, Gran Teatre del Liceu, 2/9/06

May  2006 , vol 70 , no.11

The Liceu’s Otello was one of the most eagerly awaited entries in the current Barcelona season because of the presence of José Cura, the Argentinian tenor that the media is presenting as “the” Otello for the twenty-first century. Three years ago, when Cura replaced José Carreras in a performance of Samson et Dalila at the Liceu, patrons who were able to catch a glimpse of this intense, original performer started spreading the word that those who cared for opera in the city should wait for his return. Last year, Cura shone in a concert performance of Verdi’s rather sketchy Il Corsaro, in which he gave ample evidence of his acting skills and dramatic tenor, but local fans have since been waiting for a look at this artist in a staged performance of a more demanding role.

This was Cura’s chance, and his Otello did not disappoint the Barcelona public. Cura’s Otello is a performance that the Liceu audiences will remember for a long time: a profoundly felt, well considered depiction of a man’s descent into madness, paired with a true vocal tour de force. Cura’s tenor is sometimes strained and the sound is not always pretty, but his technique and the communicative powers are astounding. The voice and the force are certainly closer to those of Jon Vickers — the great Otello of the 1960s and ‘70s — than of Plácido Domingo, the artist who has owned the role for the last quarter-century.

The Liceu production, which Willy Decker created for La Monnaie, is minimalist and symbolic. As the opera progresses its visual metaphors build a claustrophobic parallel reality that mirrors — one presumes — Otello’s disturbed mindscape. The only elements on stage are a slanted black box, closed on three sides and able to open in the back for dramatic images of a cloudy or starry sky; a huge white wooden cross; and a mirror that covers half the stage for the “fassoletto” scene in Act III.

The chorus – a well-trained, impressive body under the direction of José Luis Basso – found it hard to move in such a small space, notably during the initial storm and in the scene with the Venetian ambassadors. But when the three principals were left alone to unfold their tragedy, Decker’s precise choreography and the singers’ acting talents produced a most powerful performance.

Lado Ataneli created an evil Iago with a sympathetic, appealing edge, which made Otello’s trust in his lieutenant understandable. His voice sounded robust and grainy throughout, and his Credo was impressive. Kassimira Stoyanova was a noble, hurt and confused Desdemona with a soft, velvety and well focused instrument. Another asset in this strong cast was the matinée-idol creation of Cassio by Giorgio Giuseppini [ed:  Vittoria Grigolo played Cassion;  Giorgio Giuseppini was Lodovicio], a lyric tenor of sizeable voice and interesting acting skills. His Cassio was intelligent and dramatically savvy — very different from the usual interpretation of this character as an inoffensive fool.

Verdi’s wise, passionate score was served with precision, gusto and a keen ear for drama by maestro Antoni Ros-Marbà and the solid, malleable Liceu orchestra. 

ROBERTO HERRSCHER
 

 

 

 

 

Magic Charm of Famous Tenor and Our Mezzo-soprano

 Jutarnji List

18 July 2006

Branimir Pofuk

To all who ventured yesterday evening to windy Trsat it is now certainly clear how José Cura wins the hearts of audiences around the world. His charisma? Certainly. His wonderful and strong voice? Even more so. But above all, it is his complete absorption in the music that makes the characters he sings come alive.

We finally saw and heard the famous tenor in Croatia, but his singer’s abilities are currently as strong as his career, on the other hand his career still has many years to reach its zenith.

Apart from that we heard a very carefully chosen programme, without “O sole mio” and other similar “canzone,” that always and without any risks warm up the audience.

I have never had such a deep opera experience as I did during this concert performance.  It is impossible to find on our opera stages such dramatic feeling, in both singing and acting, as the famous Argentinean was able to achieve on the 1.5 square meter of the Trsat stage, without the use of any stage props; his partner, equally moving, was Croatian mezzo-soprano Dubravka Separovic-Musovic.

The concert began with key moments from Mascagni’s Cavalleria rusticana. After the overture Cura appeared as Turiddu singing the “Siciliana,” which he sang, as is the custom in opera performances, from behind the stage. After that our mezzo-soprano sang Santuzza’s aria “Voi lo sapete, o mamma,” followed by the passionate duet as the lovers quarrel.  “Intermezzo” was then performed by the HNK opera orchestra, conducted by Nada Matoshevic, to complete the brief excursion into this one-act opera, which Cura performs once more at Arena di Verona on Wednesday.

The concert then moved into the more dramatic repertoire: Cura introduced the very suggestive aria from Giordani’s opera Andrea Chenier, “Un di all’ azzurro spazio (Improvviso).”

The best moment of the first half of the evening came next.  As the orchestra played the Intermezzo from Leoncavallo’s Pagliacci Cura appeared, fully absorbed into the Canio’s character, crossing the stage with the heavy moves of a man affected by jealousy, bringing with him a chair on which he sang the touching “Recitar – Vesti la giubba.”

After the intermission Cura interpreted, one after the other, the two exceptional tenor arias from Puccini’s Tosca – the first from early in the opera and the next from its finale. Then excusing himself with “Scusi Padre Serafino” – directed to the smart host – Cura took the baton to direct and transmit, in front of the walls of the Trsat Franciscan cloister, his energy toward the orchestra, conducting the orgiastic Baccanale of Saint-Saens’ Samson and Dalila. Then the most magic moment of the night arrived.

Even as “Samson” remained on the podium, Dubravka Separovic-Musovic sang the charming love aria “Mon coeur…” to him and only him. Then came the miracle moment of great artistic power and the magic of chemistry between singers, when Cura, at the end of the aria and while still conducting with his right hand, stroked her cheek with his left hand and replied to her with his singing.

With the same emotional intensity both singers entered into the main characters of Bizet’s Carmen. Such a seductive and vocally confident Carmen as offered by Dubravka Separovic-Musovic doesn’t exist on Croatian opera stages. Cura replied with Don Jose’s love aria “Flower song.” The last scene, after which we were left again (like after Cavalleria rusticana) with the impression we had seen and heard the whole opera, brought us a finale with two strong personalities and two great singers.

Having charmingly communicated with the audience in Italian, Cura offered as his first encore a love song from his homeland, accompanied by only a harp, and finished the performance showcasing his magnificent heroic voice with the famous tenor aria “Nessun dorma” from Puccini’s Turandot that brought the audience from their chairs to their feet.

From Verona, where they had seen performances of Cavalleria rusticana and Pagliacci, to Rijeka had come several Cura admirers from various countries for this concert.

 

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An unforgettable concert by the star Argentinean tenor at Marijin Perivoj – Trsat

 

Rijeka Summer Nights:  World's Top Tenor 

 Vecernji list

 18.07.2006

Denis Derk 

 Not only was Mani Gotovac successful in bringing the great opera superstar José Cura to “Rijecke ljetne noci”(Rijeka Summer Nights), but she also didn’t exaggerate tickets prices so that regular people and not just celebrities could come to Marijin Perivoj on Trsat. And it was really something to hear and see.

The Argentinean tenor (and conductor, composer and soon perhaps also director) is in his prime singing years and in top form.

Under windy and chilly skies (Cura constantly remarked on the cold weather) he sang seven famous tenor arias (including both Cavaradossi arias), several duets and an intimate Argentinean love song about the ideal woman.

He finished the extremely demanding concert for any tenor with Calaf’s aria “Nessun dorma,” triumphantly interpreted in such a way that one can hear only in an exceptional live performance.

Brilliant Acting

Cura showed that he is as dangerous as a panther for his partner, because he sings impulsively, almost unpredictably, and acts gloriously, and it doesn’t matter if it is concert performance, for he fully controls and dominates on stage, as when he used a nearby chair to sit on for Canio’s aria “Vesti la giubba.” Cura had wisely chosen a programme in cooperation with conductor Nada Matosevic, who very gently and carefully led the orchestra of the Rijeka opera house. He also had a very good supporting partner in outstanding mezzo-soprano Dubravka Separovic-Musovic, who was a big surprise for the audience in Rijeka.

She didn’t overwhelm Cura, but she equally “fought” as a seductive Dalila, a vicious, defiant Carmen and a desperate Santuzza. Their deeply passionate duets, especially Dalila’s love aria “Mon coeur,” during which Samson only briefly expresses his love and desire, could perhaps be considered the high point in the concert as a great example of complete singers’ and actors’ feelings, during which the audience nearly became indecent voyeurs. Cura kept hold of his baton as he sang during this duet.

I n fact Cura was able in a very short time to get into the spirit and the very friendly atmosphere of the place that prevail in Trsat, as he demonstrated when he asked Padre Serafino to excuse him when he was going to conduct Saint-Saens’ Baccanale, which he graciously mentioned means orgy, so near the wall of the cloister.

 

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Don Carlo

Vienna - 8 December 2006

 M. Lehnert, Opernglas, Jan 2007

 

What other house in the world can offer anything comparable? The evening before the premiere of “Arabella” at the Vienna State Opera one could experience a memorable “Don Carlo,” which was remarkable on several levels. A picture-perfect singing cast did credit to their names and performed the four act Italian version of the opera under the competent and prudent direction of Marco Armiliato.  That it had been excellently rehearsed became clear in the numerous duets, trios, and quartets.  It  was also clear with Simon Keenlyside, in his role debut at the Vienna house as Marquis Pose, who sang so synchronically and stylistically perfectly, harmonizing ‘not only in the timbre’ with José Cura, that the musical level immediately electrified. Rarely does one hear such interesting, refined, and otherwise perfect vocals from two such equal singers….

Overall, the Argentinian has a shattering interpretative presence and his highly disciplined vocal style, effortless production, and virile tenor timbre hit the nail on the head in his musical interpretation; so much so that it overshadowed most of his colleagues.  That obviously means a certain danger for other prominent names, particularly as this character is an important mosaic stone in the documentation of role versatility (and makes) the name of “Cura” stands stronger today than ever before.  

The market value of  Marco Armiliato might also have risen, since he managed to lend Verdi´s Don Carlo, which is plunged in dark colors, transparency and perfect acceleration. This culminated in a great moment of choir, orchestra and singers – the whole Viennese state opera.

 

 

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Miami Concert

 

`ORQUESTRA' SHINES, BUT TENOR LEAVES AUDIENCE WANTING MORE
LAWRENCE BUDMEN

November 11, 2006

Tenor José Cura and Brazil's Orquestra de Sao Paulo were the combustible combination at the Concert Association's first program at the Carnival Center's John S. and James L. Knight Concert Hall on Thursday. With conductor John Neschling firing up the Latin-accented musical offerings, the energy level never flagged.

The Sao Paulo ensemble is an orchestral powerhouse that can hold its own on the world stage. Antonio Carlos Gomes' Overture to Il Guarany showcased the group's crisp winds and thunderous brass. Neschling played this Verdi imitation to the hilt.

The ensemble's lush strings shone resplendently in the opening movement of Heitor Villa-Lobos' Bachianas Brasileiras No. 4. Neschling brought coherence to this unwieldy mixture of Bach, Tchaikovsky, Hollywood, and indigenous Brazilian music. A pupil of renowned Viennese pedagogue Hans Swarowsky (who also taught Zubin Mehta and Claudio Abbado), Neschling is a superb orchestra builder and musical colorist who brings subtle musicality to the flashiest of scores.

The orchestra's final tour de force was Ginastera's Estancia Ballet Suite. Ravishing duos of flute and strings captured the languorous sentimentality of the Wheat Dance. A high-voltage rendition of the concluding Malambo brought the audience to its feet.

Cura, however, was the concert's real draw. At a time when the opera world is searching for replacements for the beloved Three Tenors, Cura has the vocal resources and charisma to make his presence felt.

This tenor's vocal ardor and darkly burnished lower and middle registers have the allure of Plácido Domingo but his singing can be uneven. Vesti la giubba from Leoncavallo's Pagliacci was emotionally over the top, sung at an unrelenting forte. In two arias from Puccini's Tosca, Cura's impassioned vocalism and sensuous, dulcet soft tones held the house enthralled.

In two boleros (Somos novios and Esta tarde vi llover), Cura sang with the casual ease of Frank Sinatra or Tony Bennett. But three arias and two pop songs was rather paltry for the audience of approximately 1,700 that paid $75.00 and $125.00 for top seats in the 2,400 seat hall.

For encores Cura offered a lovely, surprisingly understated Spanish love song (with exquisite harp accompaniment) and a ringing, stentorian version of Nessun dorma from Turandot. By sheer force of voice and personality, Cura came and conquered, but vocal lovers deserved to hear more of this powerhouse tenor in the operatic oeuvre for which his voice is so well suited.

 

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Tenor's powerful presence marks opening at Carnival Center

By David Fleshler
South Florida Sun-Sentinel
Posted November 13 2006

 

Argentine tenor José Cura's dramatic flair showed up early in his performance Thursday at the new Carnival Center for the Performing Arts.

As the Orquestra de São Paulo played the prelude to the famous Vesti la giubba from Pagliacci, an imposing, dark-haired man entered (through a door marked Exit), carrying an ordinary black chair over his shoulder, unsmiling and ignoring the audience. He held up a hand to quiet the trickle of applause, set the chair by the conductor, sat down and put a hand over his eyes as the orchestra finished the introduction.

"Recitar!" he began, and launched into a dramatic and powerful expression of the clown Canio's grief over the betrayal by his wife.

The concert, which began at the weird hour of 9 p.m., marked opening night for the Concert Association of Florida in its new home at the Carnival Center's Knight Concert Hall in downtown Miami. The glittering crowd was wowed by Cura's performance and the superb playing of the Brazilian orchestra.

Cura, who just sang Tosca at the Metropolitan Opera, has a powerful voice, although it lacks the brilliance and spine-tingling high notes of some of the great tenors. His tone and phrasing weren't always polished. But like Maria Callas, who also possessed uneven vocal equipment, he moved the audience through the sheer dramatic force of his voice and manner.

In E lucevan la stelle from Tosca, he let a sob creep into his voice without doing too much violence to the vocal line, to express Cavaradossi's love and grief on the eve of his execution. He possessed complete freedom on the stage. He dared to turn his back on the audience to sing to the second violins and cellos. He picked up a microphone and softened his voice to a croon for a pair of dusky Boleros by Armando Manzanero.

The orchestra, which once tottered on the verge of extinction, now has ample government support, an international roster of musicians, and a clear, rich sound. The brass played with power and not a hint of rawness, with fine work particularly from the French horns. The strings shimmered and sang, playing with impressive unity of attack, under the genial but firm direction of conductor John Neschling.

Their performances of Villa-Lobos's Bachianas Brasileiras No. 4 and Ginastera's Suite from the ballet Estancia displayed the freedom and expressiveness that comes from careful preparation and intimate knowledge of the music.

The wildly applauding audience was rewarded with three encores, although about a third of the crowd missed the last one by rushing to their cars.

"Last time I was here, the hall was full," Cura observed. "So for you who stayed..."

He then launched into what's probably the second-most-famous aria in opera (after Vesti la giubba), Puccini's Nessun dorma, literally ending on a high note as the roar of approval from the audience drowned out the orchestra.

 

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 TOSCA
Metropolitan Opera House

A few things were supposed to be newsworthy about the Metropolitan Opera’s first “Tosca” of the season on Saturday night. It was to be the first Tosca of the American soprano Andrea Gruber, and she was to wear the stage jewels Swarovski made for Maria Callas’s first Met Tosca in 1956.

But illness forced Ms. Gruber to cancel the performance. (She is to sing her next scheduled “Tosca” on Wednesday.) It was left to Maria Guleghina, a figure familiar to Met audiences, to assume the (literal) crown. The crystals seemed to symbolize the weight of past tradition this role represents: glittering and heavy, with a clunky tiara.

The real news about the evening began with Ms. Guleghina’s strong, passionate performance. After hearing her Santuzza in “Cavalleria Rusticana” on Thursday, it was striking to hear her voice so lightened for Tosca — a sign that she adjusts her vocal color and approach to fit a particular part. This speaks well for her artistry, and for her Tosca: the pitch problems that dogged her top notes as Santuzza had all but vanished.

Along with vocal freshness came a girlish exuberance that counterbalanced the raw passion of Act II with lighthearted flirtation in Act I and giddy, punchy elation in Act III.

Playing right along was José Cura’s bad-boy Cavaradossi. Mr. Cura has a strong, able voice but sings as if determined not to give anybody what he or she wants by doing anything obvious. He focused on understatement, singing darkly and with such a deliberately casual air that his phrasing was sometimes swallowed, and sometimes almost viscous in its reluctance to move from one note to another. The musical climaxes seemed torn out of him against his will, adding considerably to the drama.

But the biggest news may have been the company debut of Nicola Luisotti, a fast-rising young conductor whose name the rumor mill is currently linking to the post of music director at the San Francisco Opera. Evaluating him on this performance, an opera house would be lucky to have him. It wasn’t just his passion or his ability to bring out every detail of the score and deal with the singers’ sometimes willful phrasing; it was that he conducted “Tosca” as if it really mattered. Even James Morris, who has sometimes sung Scarpia as a growling caricature, picked up on the excitement and turned in a respectably dark villain.

“Tosca” seemed vital again. And in this venerable, twice-told production, that is news indeed. ANNE MIDGETTE

"José Cura is a Calaf without a large voice but one used with great style and one that earned an ovation after the famous aria Nessun dorma."   Oct 2006

 

"Interesting company, this one....with a prince Calaf in the person of José Cura who attacks notes without much color but with has a voice and presence of rare authority...." Lorenzo Arruga, Il Giornale, 16 October 2006

 

 

José Cura in Verona

 

 

After returning from Japan, where he starred in the title role of  Andrea Chénier, the Argentine tenor José Cura opened the opera season in the Arena di Verona last Saturday in a truly historic fashion, portraying both Canio and Turiddu in the respective operas of Pagliacci (Leoncavallo) and Cavalleria Rusticana (Mascagni), two masterpieces in the repertoire in which Cura stands among the best in the world and in which he has built the reputation as an outstanding interpreter. He is the first in more than thirty years to sing both roles in the Arena. The precedent goes back to 1975, when Placido Domingo performed the feat at the famous Verona theater.  Only two other names belong in the same musical company, no less than Mario del Monaco and Beniamino Gigli.  The opportunity arose as a result of  Vincenzo la Scola cancelling his participation for health reasons.

 

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Opening Night in Verona: The Ancient Stones are Alive

by Bernhard Doppler from Verona

25 June 2006

 

 

Alessandro Cammarano

Without question, the hero of the evening was José Cura, starring in the double role of Turiddu and Canio.  A treatise could be written on the Argentine tenor’s unorthodox vocal technique and lack of homogeneity of his timbre, but on this evening, his voice shone with power and was notable for long-held high notes.  And if we add two intense and first rate interpretations, especially in Canio, his stage presence and wise portrayal, all that is left for us to say is ‘Bravo Cura!”   

 Translated by Dana

After the sudden withdrawal of Vincenzo La Scola, José Cura took over the role of Turiddu in addition to that of Canio. Thus the common characteristics of both main tenor parts and the unity of staging created a situation which Cura, under the direction of [Gilbert] Deflos, used for two captivating and intelligent creations with distinct drama and vigour.  His Turiddu here was a less macho, more immature mummy's boy, uncertain and unhappy as only a man standing between two women can be.  Canio could perhaps be sung "more beautifully," but scarcely with greater intensity and metallic shine:  explosively brilliant and confident high notes distinguished the apparently endless “A ventitrè ore,” while in “Recitar!” and "No, Pagliaccio non son" the darkly-colored, baritonal middle voice was shown to great advantage. The other performers paled in comparison to Cura’s achievements.

 

 

The play of a play in a play

11. 04. 2006 / Werner Pfister

 Much expense spent on the staging and great applause at the final curtain:  the life-threatening play in which a princess murders her suitors turns out, in the end, to be only farce.

If to a piece an opera director can bring nothing genuine, there still exists a way to produce the piece as a dream—so recently at the Zurich Opera House with “La Favorita.” Giancarlo del Monaco now selects another—with just as much commitment—way.  He produces Puccini’s “Turandot” as a play within a play.

The audience was left confused and perhaps even nonplussed when Calaf, supposedly inflamed with love, approaches the riddle scene—one that is well known to concerns issues of life and death—with such nonchalance that he smokes a cigarette;  it seems he dislikes the delay.  He wants Turandot to ask him the three riddles.  He is sure to be an easy winner.  He unfolds a laptop computer (the audience laughs in amusement) and enters the mysterious questions into it:  Google knows everything.  In the end, the dark scenery of ancient China dissolves into the modern world:  in the background an urban center with skyscrapers becomes visible.  Turandot and Calaf sit down at a table covered with a white cloth and toasts with champagne—a private celebration, if you will.

Actually, it should have been possible to anticipate everything.  Calaf appears in the beginning in sunglasses in the embodiment of the Latin lover and heartbreaker who has apparently gotten lost in the fairy tale China of mythology.  Much expensive machinery is operated, the sumptuous costumes are Chinese-inspired, and the actors—up to the entrance of a circus dwarf as executioner—are offered with typical Chinese presentation to please the eye.

Quite unencumbered by tradition in the Ping-Pang-Pong scene:  instead of conventional opera gestures the characters use Chinese shadow-boxing moves that have an edge of humor to them, running contrary to the melancholy seriousness of their homesickness song at the beginning of Act II.  Similar breaks in mood arise as a result of the staging:  walls go up, nothing on them, the choir stands on rows in the stance of spectators in an arena, and all this takes place in a sparse jade setting, perhaps even a dungeon.

In the program is a quote out of Sigmund Freud’s treatise “The Taboo of the Virgin” about male envy resulting in “hostility toward men by embittered women.” It is through the depth of this psychological theme that Turandot, in spite of its Chinese fairy-tale motive, is connected with contemporary times.  And, one would want to argue, it offers her as contemporary character to those of the same period, Elektra, Lulu, or Salome.  Yet on the stage, nothing of this appears.  It is a stretch…..

Paoletta Marrocu fights as Turandot for the high notes that come painfully and fights for the low notes which have too much vibrato.  These flaws lessen her impact so it becomes too easy for José Cura as Calaf to dominate the stage.  He takes advantage of it, as he sings “Nessun dorma” while lying outstretched on his back.  Although his darkly shaded tenor occasionally lives in a wild a marriage with the song phrases, he is convincing as an actor and his thrilling, daredevil approach.  He has class.

Elana Mosuc offers an attractive Liù, her singing wonderfully phrased but stingily directed.  Pavel Daniluk sings old Timur with immense bass ones and Gabriel Bermúdez, Andreas Winkler and Boguslaw Bidzinski are convincing as a Ping, Pang and Pong. The Zurich Opera chorus (and the additional choir and youth choir), directed by Jürg Hämmerli deserves great praise.

Conductor Alan Gilbert conducted with notable care for the score.  His power, but never garish gave the music not only luster but also poetry, and the orchestra of the Zurich Opera played with wholehearted instrumental opulence.  Much applause in the end, with storms of enthusiasm for everything - the audience liked the performance very much.

Opernhaus Zurich (Zurich, Suiza)
Turandot (Giacomo Puccini)
Conductor.: Alan Gilbert.
Director.: Giancarlo del Monaco.
Singers: Paoletta Marrocu (Turandot), Pavel Daniluk (Timur), José Cura (Calaf), Elena Mosuc (Liù), Gabriel Bermúdez (Ping).
9 de Abril de 2006

 

Hans Uli von Erlach / translated by Dana

The first performance [in Zurich] of this gigantic opera was a triumph for more than one reason.  The first was the music, which the young North American Alan Gilbert conducted in all its flamboyance and all its refinement, from those passages which affect us most emotionally to those that radiate pomposity and spectacle, all with proper tempi and shading. The second reason was named José Cura. His imposing presence made us think the opera should have been called Calaf, but much of his macho self-approval can be easily pardoned thanks to the charisma that characterizes this artist and the almost insulting brightness of his vocal projection. Less excusable was his tendency to emphasize pronunciation, more appropriate for a performance in a sport stadium.  The third reason’s name is Elena Mosuc, touching as Liù though not because of the power of her voice, since that was found in the basso Pavel Daniluk singing the role of Timur.  The final source of satisfaction was the choir, numerous and almost always on stage, badly dressed and condemned to immobility but nevertheless characterized by a big force and precision.

Paoletta Marrocu, a specialist in the Puccini repertoire, was debuting in the role of the Princess. In her first entrance we got the impression that her voice was lacking sufficient heroism or dramatic content but as soon as she stepped down the stairs her vocal presence became more distinctive, although her diction was not more comprehensible. Of the three ministers, the Ping of Gabriel Bermúdez excelled with his good baritone voice and in his stage virtuosity.

In his stage direction Giancarlo del Monaco wanted to combine the traditional stage vision of Turandot with the modernity of the West. When Calaf, in jeans and leather jacket, talks with the emperor while continuing to smoke or answers Turandot´s questions with the help of a laptop--surely he is consulting Google!--he displays western arrogance in opposition to the traditional ways of the Far East. And the final scene continues the theme: Turandot removes her oriental gown to appear in a cocktail dress and drinks champagne with her conqueror against the background of the night lights of modern Shanghai: the western consumer culture has triumphed over the ancestral traditions.

 In fact, the production is shared by Shanghai Opera House and the luxurious wardrobe of the protagonists has been created in China.

 

 

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Claudio Poloni

ConcertoNet

April 2006