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Stunning simplicity
(Filed: 19/05/1999)
SOMETIMES I wonder why opera bothers with stage production. For this enthralling concert performance of Verdi's Otello, the soloists simply lined up in front of the orchestra, wearing a variety of evening dress. For the most part, they faced the audience; occasionally they read from their scores. No sets, no lighting, no curtain-up.
But not for a moment did you doubt anyone's intense involvement in their characters, and rarely in a theatre have I felt the drama's emotional essence as powerfully communicated as it was here. Opera singers act so much better when they haven't been fed a lot of half-baked notions by pretentious directors and are allowed to let their interpretations infuse through the music and text unobstructed.
Interest at the Barbican focused on the Argentinian José Cura, taking the title role for the first time in London. He impressed me greatly. Although those of us with memories of Domingo and Vickers may miss the former's eloquent legato or the latter's howling anguish, Cura's young, bold and handsome Otello made its own mark.
His strong, dark, steady tenor lacks colour, but he uses it with musicality and intelligence. There was no recourse to bellowing, and the quiet intensity of Dio mi potevi and
was drawn with real sensibility. He should stop burying his head in his hands to convey despair: more of the finer, deeper points will come with experience.
Cura was fortunate in the cast that framed him. Carlos Alvarez made an impeccably crisp and urbane Iago, more top-hatted gentleman than disgruntled Sergeant-Major, and the pretty Bulgarian soprano Andrea Dankova was an ardent and vocally confident Desdemona - star potential here, I think.
Among the smaller roles only the British tenor John Daszak disappointed, with a tired-sounding Cassio. The London Symphony Chorus would have matched La Scala's in their stunning attack on the opening storm and the Act III ensemble.
Sir Colin Davis conducted. I had forgotten how fast he takes the piece. Detail is occasionally masked, but the dialogues never meander, the temperature never drops, and the climaxes were scorching. The LSO seemed invigorated by his demands and played superbly.
*
Focus on Tenors
New York Post
29 September 1999
Shirley Fleming
(excerpts)
Cavalleria rusticana featured the debut of a heralded young Argentinian tenor José Cura, while Pagliacci marked Placido Domingo’s 18th opening night at the Met.
Both men dodged bouquets tossed during curtain calls; neither disappointed the packed house.
Cura, stocky and handsome at 37, presents a picture of swaggering masculinity and commands a voice to match—a clear, focused tenor that carries well, rings nicely at the top and generates considerable emotional heat. It is not overwhelming in sheer volume, but his Turiddu stood up to the weight of his powerhouse co-star, soprano Dolora Zajick, and even when he was required to dash about the stage during a very busy drinking song, he maintained his stamina.
Attractive tenors don’t come alone every day, and Cura promises to be around for a while….
In Review
Opera News
December 1999
Brian Kellow
(excerpt)
...Cura, a figure of distinct stage presence, seemed to have absorbed Turiddu’s character, feeling how such a macho youth would behave and express himself—his guilt tinted with bravado, and vice versa. The voice, dramatically shaded rather than generically displayed, has a nice burr to it, with overtones of both menace and sensuality, well suited to freewheeling verismo.
Send in the Clowns
New York Metro
18 October 1999
Peter Davis
(excerpt)
At some point early in the planning stages, the evening was apparently intended to be a celebration of tenors: Luciano Pavarotti as Canio in Leoncavallo’s shocker, José Cura in his Met debut as Mascagni’s Turiddu, and Plácido Domingo on the podium. No doubt late-career discretion persuaded Pavarotti not to risk such a taxing role, so Domingo went on in his stead, Carlo Rizzi took over the conducting duties, and Cura appeared as scheduled.
Turiddu may be too short a role to make a fair assessment of Cura, already in hot demand around the world. His basic vocal personality bears a strong resemblance to [Domingo’s]: a voice more lyric than dramatic, with an attractively burnished but covered tone….He also takes a rather nonchalant, even slapdash attitude toward the music, perhaps to emphasize the sleazy side of this spoiled Sicilian stud. That Cura can easily do—he is a born stage animal with build-in sex appeal.
Musical Diary
New York Press
30 September 1999
Jay Nordlinger
(excerpt)
As is the evening’s number-one star, José Cura, the Argentine heartthrob who is, incidentally, an excellent singer. He is thought of as ‘The Next Plácido” but merely as Cura he’ll do well enough. His big aria, “Addio alla madre,” which is so easy to make risible, is a jolting surprise: it is understated, strangely quiet, well-paced, unhysterical, almost subdued—making it all the more effective. What’s more, Cura is a competent actor, at times verging on mesmerizing, with a minimum of staginess. The operatic public is made for this tenor, and properly so.
Now, the Two Tenors
Domingo Reigns at the Met, but Cura is also Commanding
All Editions
29 September 1999
Justin Davidson
(excerpt)
Domingo’s own anointed is José Cura, the 36 year old Argentinian who arrived at stardom fully equipped with a pleasantly brawny voice, solid musicality and the sort of looks that might get a few magazines interested in opera. He made his Met debut Monday singing Turiddu.
Cura appeared in Mascagni’s Cavalleria rusticana, a big wet sponge of an opera in which spasmodic arias lurch from sob to sob. It’s difficult to gauge an artist’s finesse in such a rough-hewn score, but there was not question that Cura commanded the house. His dark, thickly sinewed tenor—a baritone in disguise—lent itself well too Mascagni’s hearty sentimentality and to the role of the brash philanderer. He had energy, power and—never underestimate this—a macho stride.
So, if he was a little too fond of the obvious catch in the throat, that, too could be chalked up to the style. If he had a tendency to use excessive force on a phrase, well, that’s the sort of man Turiddu is. If a few noticeable notes went a little wide, what is intonation when there’s a duel to be fought? Cura is too good, and too good-looking, for the visually demanding opera world to resist.
New York Harvests a Garden of Delights
USA Today
12 October 1999
David Patrick Stearns
(excerpt)
Few singers cut such a dashing stage presence or project the inner lives of their characters so precisely as Cura.
Last Updated: Saturday, August 12, 2006
© Copyright: Kira
